FurrandHormones

as our hearts started beating faster by iwillshutup

(created for the (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧ sciles reverse bang)

Here’s a pseudo-masterpost of Skittles tumblr ficlets I have written that recent followers may be interested in (or just for those of you who missed them):

Stiles is not a stripper, but god bless him he tries

The Winter Soldier AU idea nobody asked for

Hey, Teen Wolf fandom! I was thinking about getting Tyler Posey a nice gift for BiteCon in April, and was sort of stumped on what individual present to get him—but given all of the money he’s raised himself for Leukemia Lymphoma Society, I thought it would be amazing if we could pool our efforts to raise money on his behalf. 

LLS is a charity that’s close to my heart since my dad suffered from lymphoma and passed away a few years ago, and I was lucky enough to walk with Tyler and Seana at Light the Night in LA this past fall in my dad’s memory. A lot of you guys probably know that Tyler’s Serengetee line goes towards LLS, and at DOTW this past weekend he raised several thousand dollars for LLS by auctioning off Teen Wolf scripts. I had the chance to thank him for his work with them there, and he seemed so moved by the fans who have helped him raise money for the charity. 

He has such a kind heart and is one of the most down-to-earth, genuine celebrities I’ve ever met, and I think it would be wonderful if we could put money towards an amazing cause in his name to thank him for everything he’s done.

I’ve made a gofundme charity page, so all donations will go directly to LLS. Even if you can only donate a couple of dollars, any amount helps! And if you can’t donate, signal boosting this so that as many Teen Wolf fans as possible see it that would be amazing. I’d like to present him with some sort of certificate showing him how much we’ve raised in his honor at BiteCon, so we have a little under two months to raise money—I’ve set our goal at $5000—but I believe in you guys! Fandom’s always great about coming together for things like this. 

I’m not personally affiliated with LLS or with gofundme, so if you have specific questions about either of them, your best bet is to check out their websites/FAQs here:

http://www.gofundme.com/how-to-fundraise/

http://www.lls.org/

Thank you guys so much! I know this will mean the world to him and anyone who has been affected by blood cancers.

The page to donate is here, and please spread the word: http://www.gofundme.com/71vlkw

“We played with magnets today in class,” the kid says. His feet bounce off Derek’s chest, kicking him lightly. It doesn’t hurt or anything, so Derek doesn’t complain. “Turn them to side and they stick, another and they push away. Weird.”

He chatters on about magnets, and other things - glitter comes into it at some points - and it makes Derek’s thoughts disjointed, far-back memories of first grade and a time when safety meant looking both ways before crossing the road.

At the gate to the kid’s house, Derek lets him down. The kid pulls on the collar of Derek’s t-shirt, insistent, until Derek bends and lets the kid plant a smooch on his cheek, throw enthusiastic stick-thin arms around Derek’s neck. Kid’s an affectionate little thing; Derek allows it. Time enough for the world to punch the softness out of the kid.

Derek hangs back, watches the kid get into the house. He can see through the windows, if he tries, sees a father working at the kitchen table turning to hug his son as he walks in the door. The house is lit, and it’s turning dark outside. Easier to see them than it would for them to see him.

He takes his time walking back home.

Laura’s still asleep when he gets there. She sleeps a lot these days, nearly as much as uncle Peter. Derek nudges her, goes hunting when she doesn’t stir. There’s rabbit cooking over their hotplate when she gets up.

Her shoulder brushes Derek’s. “Good day at school?” Her voice is far off, but Derek thinks it’s nice she pretends to care.

Derek shrugs. Laura doesn’t push.

He comes with her after dinner, to sleep on the damp mattress and the pile of blankets they salvaged. Derek thinks, fleetingly, of the kid’s warm little body, the soft bundle of his clothes, the well-lit house he walked into. 

Laura clings close, like she can feel Derek’s thoughts. “Are you okay here?” Here, in the burnt down remains of their house, on the mattress that used to belong to their parents.

Naturally, it doesn’t help. “It was very nice of Derek to help you,” Stiles’ dad says. “But you know you shouldn’t go with strangers.”

“He’s not a stranger!” Stiles comes perilously close to stomping his foot. “And he’s not dangerous either, he’s been walking me home for ages and nothing bad’s happened yet!”

Stiles doesn’t know why, but it makes his dad’s face crumple. His dad goes to his knees, hugs Stiles close and strong. “Stiles,” his dad says, “I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Anything.”

Stiles swallows and nods. “I’ll stay safe,” he says in a small voice.

He means to be good, and mostly, he is. Stiles lets dad walk him home, doesn’t do more than glance at Derek as he heads in the opposite direction. He always thought Derek lived near them; it made no sense for him to walk Stiles home otherwise.

Then there is a snow day, and school lets out early. Stiles slips out amongst the throngs of happy kids, unnoticed. Determined.

It’s not like he goes back on his promise when he goes into the woods. Following Derek. Because Derek isn’t actually dangerous. Stiles will show his father, somehow. 

He doesn’t account, however, for the forest itself.

Stiles shouts when the ground collapses under his feet, tumbling into a pit in a mess of snow and dead vegetation. The wet gets under his coat and in his boots, and he squaks. Broken branches pin him in place; he tries to get away, but can’t find a purchase in the slick leaves.

It’s not so bad, though. Stiles is starting to feel warm again when something grabs him by the back of the neck.

“Kid,” someone says, frantic and hoarse. “Kid, you’re cold. Where’s your cellphone?”

Stiles fishes it out of his pocket. It takes a minute; his fingers are numb. He hears a tone being dialled, thinks he catches his father’s gruff voice on the other end.

“He’s in the woods. His hands are turning blue,” he hears that someone say.

Stiles frowns at his hands. They are. He must have lost his mittens. It’s kind of cool, but that voice sounds so scared. Stiles turns his face upwards, grinning to see Derek. He puts his hands on Derek’s face, trying to reassure, and Derek flinches before putting his hand over Stiles, chafing. That doesn’t feel nice, makes Stiles’ palm feel like pins and needles.

Derek says, “I can bring him over,” and then his face turns blank at what Stiles’ dad replies. He blinks, rapidly. “If you’re sure,” he says, and waits for answer before hanging up.

“C’mon,” Derek says, hauling Stiles up like a sack of potatoes. “You’re coming home with me. Your dad said getting you warm as fast as possible was the main thing.”

Derek’s house isn’t very warm - it’s drafty, because the walls have holes in them - but there’s a bed which is really more like a nest. Derek’s sister is in it, sleeping.

Derek takes off Stiles’ wet coat, gives him an old pair of pants that smells like mildew but is dry and nearly Stiles’ size. He helps hold Stiles up while he changes, looking away.

Then he puts Stiles into bed with his sister - “Laura,” Derek says softly, “company,” - and she just snuffles and puts and arm over Stiles. Derek slides in at Stiles’ other side, chafing his hands over Stiles’ back.

“Hurts,” Stiles complains. His entire body feels like it’s being stabbed repeatedly, now.

“Sorry,” Derek says, but when he takes his hands away it doesn’t help at all, so Stiles asks for them back.

He knows he must have slept, then, because he wakes up to his father’s frowning face. It’s not a bad frown, though. A considering frown.

It lets Stiles know he has a bargaining point. He clutches Derek’s shirt when he tries to stumble out of the bed.

“I never got hurt when Derek was around,” Stiles says, looking Derek clear in the eye. “I only got hurt when you made him stay away, and then he helped me better.”

Stiles’ dad still doesn’t look convinced.

That means Stiles has to sweeten the deal somehow. “What if both of you walk me home together?” Stiles bargains. “And maybe he could stay for lunch. I’ll eat my greens every day if he can stay for lunch.”

It’s like ice thawing when the sheriff cracks a smile. “Oh, kid.” He shakes his head. “What do you think, Derek?”

Close as he is, Stiles can feel Derek’s nod. Stiles shouldn’t grin at his victory - that might mean Stiles’ dad changing his mind - so he plants a smooch on Derek’s cheek.