therightfulalpha:

Send me a prompt and I’ll write a 4-5 sentence drabble about it

For one split second, the alpha thought he’d walked into the wrong place, but the sight of the redhead bent over a brand new chair and swiping at absolutely nothing, he knew he wasn’t. 

There were pillows. On his couch. And a dining room set he’d most definitely not paid for.

“Take it all back,” he growled out, hands clutching the bag of groceries he’d run out to get.

therightfulalpha:

Send my muse one of the following to see how they react

Feeling as the blade as it sank into his chest, piercing his right lung, filling it with blood, Derek howled out in pain. 

This was wrong. A part of him knew that. The injury—-it shouldn’t have burned the way that it did. It shouldn’t have left him wanting to curl in on himself and lap at his wounds, trying to soothe the feel of fire, shouldn’t make him want to thrash and lash out, attacking anything and anyone who dared to come too close, including the teen.

With effort, the alpha lifted his head and met the boy’s gaze.

“Control it,” he’d gasped out before he slipped into unconsciousness, no longer capable of fighting the pain.

He knew the teen wasn’t in control of his body at the time he’d stabbed him and tortured him. He knew that it was the nogitsune possessing Stiles, and that he would—if he could, if he’d had control of his own body—have done anything to help him. They both did.

But knowing it and accepting it were two very different things, and Derek knew better than most that the guilt would stick with Stiles through the rest of his days.

He was healing from his wounds. Slowly, but at least he was healing. At the time, he couldn’t really tell anyone what had been done to him, body screaming in agonizing torture as the poison flowed through his veins, spreading its fiery destruction throughout his body, but afterwards, when he found himself waking up at Deaton’s and heard about the extensive damage done to him, he could only be surprised that he’d managed to hold on as long as he had.

And yet—-

And yet, despite all that had been done to him at Stiles’ hand, he never once held him responsible for the actions of the trickster spirit possessing him.

Derek met his eyes once more as he muttered the only thing that he could, the only thing that would be able to convey everything without having to open painful wounds for the both of them.

“I know.”

therightfulalpha:

Truth Serum

The question played over and over again in the alpha’s head, taunting him, tormenting him, reminding him of his past transgressions. He knew that listening to Peter was a bad idea, knew that it would lead nowhere good, but at the time, he was too afraid to lose Paige, and the idea offered possibilities and promises that were too good to pass up.

Would he have done it all over again? Knowing what he did now, could he do it? Could he really get Paige involved in all of this? It would mean death for her, but at the same time, for that brief, short period in his life, he’d truly known what love meant.

But was he that selfish?

Gritting his teeth, his claws grew and bit into the heels of his palms. He already knew the answer to that question.

“No.”

He’d already lost out on love before. Why not add another name to the list?

therightfulalpha:

‘I want the K’

Romantic Kiss

Cloudy gray blue eyes stared down at the half-asleep teen, drinking in every curve and plane of the now achingly familiar face. How they ended up at this point, Derek didn’t know. He couldn’t tell anyone  how he’d managed to get so lucky—-a chance to be happy, something he’d not felt in far too long, that’s what he was being offered—-but with Stuart lying there, contently dozing off every now and then in his bed, it made him grateful to his pack once more for introducing them. He’d not felt this way since Paige if he were being honest with himself, and he had to clamp down on any lingering fears that tried to take over, tried to have him push the other away for his own protection.

Seeing Stuart stirring, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks before his eyes met the alpha’s and that still half-asleep smile aimed at him—-it was all he needed to push those thoughts away and focus on the here and now rather than what might come at them next.

Lacing their fingers together, he leaned down, lips brushing over the smooth column of throat, to his jaw, to his sharp cheekbone. He drank in every little bit of the teen as he could, tongue darting out to taste, to mark and claim, letting their scents mingling in a way that he knew most couldn’t understand fully but had his inner ‘wolf rumbling in a pleased way.

Finally, though, he’d reached his destination and meeting Stuart’s gaze, Derek shot him an all-too rare flash of a smile—-here and gone in a second—-before he leaned forward and captured his lips in a slow, deep kiss.

Derek wasn’t a fool to think that good things lasted, especially not in the hectic life he lived, but for as long as he could have this, could have him, he would savor it.

therightfulalpha:

‘I want the K’

10. Neck Kiss

Derek never made it a habit to go around kissing strangers. In fact, he never really went around doing much that didn’t have anything to do with his art. So how Laura’d convinced him to come out with her and a few of her friends, he really didn’t understand it. If he’d had it his way, he’d have stayed locked up in his loft or, at the most, up on the rooftop of the apartment building, supplies in hand as he painted another piece that would be hidden away from the rest of the world, too personal—-too private—-to be seen by anyone but his alpha.

He was in the middle of another project, one that would eventually be a gift to his sister. It was a painting of their family, back before the fire wiped almost everyone out, shifted into wolves on the night of the full moon, heads tipped back and howling. The more he thought about the work, the more he itched to finish it, to pick up his brush, mix the different paints to get the right shade of grey for Michael’s fur or the tawny color of his father’s coat, to watch as the picture bleed and came to life before his eyes, under his hands, and around him in his lonely place.

It was the itch that drove him to drinking in the first place. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get drunk on the stuff, but the burn of the whiskey as it went down was enough to distract him, to calm his frayed nerves. It grounded him in ways that nothing else besides from painting or sculpting ever really could. And it was the drink that drove him to socializing with the stranger.

She was gorgeous, he would admit. Aesthetically pleasing to the eye, definitely easy to talk to, especially for one as socially reclusive as him, and genuinely enjoyable company, unlike Laura’s coworkers and friends.

But how that all added up to them in the middle of a darkened alleyway that only had one flickering streetlamp to give them any light in New York City at this time of night, he didn’t know.

Hands gripping her hips, he rubbed his cheek against her pulse, enjoying the feel of his stubble dragging against the sensitive skin. Derek knew that most didn’t enjoy the feel of stubble rubbing against them, and so to make up for allowing his inner ‘wolf out enough to satisfy its need to mark the woman, he pressed a gentle kiss to the spot he’d just marked. He didn’t stop there, either. No, he continued to pepper a trail of kisses along the curve of her neck, down the bend and all the way to the hollow base of her throat. Eyes flicking up to meet her hooded gaze, he gave her a wicked smirk before flicking his tongue out, wanting to taste her, to see if she actually tasted as good as she smelt. And she did. Hearing the gasp that fell from her lips, his smirk grew, and he continued to kiss along her throat, making sure that he left her with a lasting memory of this strange night.

therightfulalpha:

I want the K

Kiss Along the Hips

Fingers danced along pale flesh, feeling the young man’s muscles tense and clench up beneath the pads of his fingertips. Stiles was spread out before him, gloriously naked, Peter holding him snuggly against his chest so that he couldn’t go anywhere. Not that either one of the ‘wolves thought that he actually would. Stiles was just as willing a participant in this little game of theirs as they were, and they both knew that he was more than enjoying this. From the way his lips parted, the way he sucked in a breath only to gasp softly when Derek’s fingers caressed the trail of hair just below his navel all the way to the top of his pubic hair, to the heavy scent of arousal filling the entire room, Derek knew that he wanted this just as much—-if not more—-than they did.

He met the whiskey-colored eyes, darkened and half-lidded,  and gave him a wolfish, predatory-like smile, teeth flashing for a moment before he dipped his head low, brushing his nose against the other’s inner hip, inhaling deeply.

Fuck. He didn’t think the other realized just how intoxicating his scent was. It drove him insane, made him want nothing more than to take him, claim him, mark him as his—-his and Peter’s—-so that all could see that this human was theirs as much as they were his.

Stiles might’ve thought he was the lucky one, what with him snatching up both the owner of Neckz ‘N Throats magazine and his top photographer, but Derek knew the truth. He and his uncle were the lucky ones. To be given the opportunity to see the other man like this, splayed out and on display for their every want and desire, there was no question in his mind who came out ahead in this.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he pressed his lips against the sharp curve of his hip, placing an open mouthed kiss there, enjoying the way Stiles hips arched upwards towards his mouth, silently asking for more. And Derek was nothing if not willing to give Stiles everything he wanted.

His hands curved around the pale man’s hips, gently pressing him back down onto the mattress, before he rained kisses along his hips, teeth grazing against the tender skin, nipping every now and then only to soothe the sting with a swipe of his tongue. He continued to shower Stiles in the attention he so deserved before finally pulling away, loving the sight of his mate’s head tossed back, cradled in the crook of his uncle’s neck, mouth slack from both the kisses that Derek paid him and the way Peter’s thumb brushed idly across his nipple.

therightfulalpha:

Haunted Memories

If only…

          If only…

                          If     o n l y…

“I’m sorry, Mama,” he cried, voice hoarse—-b r o k e n. “I’m sorry. It’s—‘s my fau—” He hiccoughed. “My fault that they got Daddy.”

Talia shushed him and ran a hand down the side of his face before pulling him in to a tight hug, pressing her cheek on top of the boy’s head and gently rubbing her scent on him, comforting him in ways that only ‘wolves would understand.

“Shhh…baby, no,” she told him. “No, it’s not your fault. Why would you think that?”

He flinched before burying his face in her neck, sniffling. He didn’t want to admit to his mom that he’d been talking to another boy about the family, about how they were better because they weren’t human like he was.

“It—” He clamped his mouth shut and forced himself to take a deep breath of his alpha’s scent, letting it linger and center him, clearing his mind and giving him enough courage to continue.

“I told someone,” he whispered, shrinking away from her, afraid that she would no longer love him. He’d just lost his dad, and now he was about to lose his mom, too. All because he was too proud. “I told him about—about us. And…and I know that I’m not supposed to. That it’s supposed to be a secret in case Hunters find us. And they did. They found Dad and they killed him.”

His voice cracked over the word ‘killed,’ and he bit down on his lip, steeling himself for what he was sure would be the worst punishment imaginable—banishment. From his home, from his family, from his pack.

Talia took one look at her son’s heartbroken and stricken face and sighed softly, only picked up due to his ‘wolf hearing, and tugged him into her embrace once more.

“Listen to me, pup.” Her voice took on the authoritative tone that she used only when needing to display her alpha status. “Your father’s death wasn’t your fault.”

Derek just nodded mechanically. It was expected of him. But a part of him, a part that would soon be a major part of who he was, couldn’t get over the fact that his dad was dead.

And it was his fault.

therightfulalpha:

Haunted Memories

Finding her broken body in the closet of the abandoned bank was a harsh reality check for the alpha. About a month after she and Boyd had ran from the everything, from the pack, he’d felt the sharp, startling snap! of their connection.

He’d tried to force himself to believe that it was simply because she was too far out of the normal range that packmates needed to stay in in order to feel one another. Or maybe she’d accepted another as Alpha, severing their tether.

But now—-

Now he couldn’t deny it any longer.

Erica was dead. His beta—his family—was dead, and it was his fault.

If only he’d been a better Alpha for her…

If only he could protect her, keep her safe like he’d wanted to, like he tried to do, then perhaps she would still be alive. Perhaps she’d have her license and would be pestering him to please, please, please let her drive the Camaro.

It didn’t matter now. There was no point in thinking about “what ifs.” All that mattered was that he was the death of an innocent girl who’d come to be family when all he ever wanted was to save her from her illness.

And now? Well, now he’d have one more death to weigh him down.

Holding her body close to him, he walked out of the closet, out of the bank, and went to give her a proper burial among the rest of the members of the Hale pack.

therightfulalpha:

Send “It’ll help if you talk about it,” and my character will confide in yours a memory or nightmare they’ve had that’s been bothering them.

There were times when Derek woke up, a thin sheen of sweat coating his body, where his heart thundered against his rib cage, beating so fast that it almost reminded him of the way a rabbit’s heart sounded when being hunted.

“I told her.”

It was muttered, his voice not quite managing its usual deep tones, coming out croaky, choked, like it was caught in his throat.

“I told her not to come back here, and she did it anyways.”

Why was he telling her all of this again? Pack. Lydia was pack, and even though he knew that they didn’t see eye to eye on most things, he knew that he could trust her. His wolf trusted her anyways.

“I told her not to come back, and she did, and now she’s dead.”

“It’s my fault.”

He didn’t think he’d spoken so much in front of the banshee as he had now, but he found couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. He knew Laura would haunt his ass if she found out just how much her death was weighing on him, would tell him that it wasn’t his fault, just like she had all those nights when she would place a comforting hand on the back of his neck and whisper that the fire wasn’t his fault. He never did tell her what happened, but he had a feeling that she knew, and that just made his stomach lurch all over again.

“She’s dead, and it’s my fault. Just like the rest of my family. They’re dead because of me.”

therightfulalpha:

Headcanon Meme

     Once upon a time, the answer would simply roll off his tongue, and the werewolf wouldn’t bat a single lash. He had known, even at a young age, that he preferred the cool autumn’s breeze to any other temperament, knew that the pull of the moon always felt stronger for him during those three months than any other time.

He’d loved the fall—-

                                                   But now——

     Those memories were tainted now. No longer was the pull of the moon a comfort. No longer was the cool breeze ruffling his hair something that he could be happy about.

Now—-

     Now those memories were filled with smoke and ash, tasted of bitterness and betrayal, sounded like screams and broken cries, and felt like agony and loss.

           ”None.”