#Dustie Hale

[stressedbaguette]

Rosalie was the best Cullen, and it would honestly have been very logical to get rid of Bella at the start of Twilight 🧘

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! HC how you first meet them pt.2

Slashers x f!reader

Includes Bubba Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Art The Clown, Stu Macher

Warnings: mentions of murder/violence, some stalking/harassment (not by slashers), ill intentions, pre-relationships, reader is a bit self deprecating, shitty friends

Bubba Sawyer

Of course you’d been dragged on a girls trip, and of course the minute the engine blew in you were shoved from the back seat onto the side of the dusty, gravel road, laughed at and told, “go find a mechanic”

God forbid your so called friends, which now you were rethinking the decision to even be here and with them, chose somewhere to travel where there was actual cell service

So here you now were, standing on an old porch that you weren’t even sure was properly attached to the house barely kept upright and covered in chipped paint

“Hello?”

A few more knocks on the creaky front door echoed out before your patience ran out, turning the handle and finding it to be unlocked

“Uh, hello? If I’m breaking and entering just let me know but this place seems abandoned”

You cupped your mouth and spoke, just to cover all your bases in case you were actually entering someone’s home, although the cobwebbed walls and moth bitten carpet spoke otherwise

“This isn’t creepy at all…”

Wandering aimlessly through the houses threshold, you searched for something that you help back on the road where all your friends were waiting

Or maybe you were just hoping this would buy you time before you had to walk 4 miles back to tell them you came up with nothing, no mechanic, no help

Your eyes glanced across the room, taking in all the items scattered about, some miscellaneous and some meticulously placed

Then your curious gaze landed on an ash tray sitting beside a moldy plate of what looked like some kind of meat

Although the fluffy possibly-poultry wasn’t what alarmed you, the smoke filtering from the end of a half smoked cigarette resting on it did

“Boys, we’ve got a fresh one”

A deep voice hollered, a rough palmed and smelly hand slapping over your mouth to muffle the hale scream that had popped from your lungs due to shock

Before you could even think to fight against the obviously strong body pinned to yours, you were being dragged towards an open basement door and thrown down the narrow, wooden staircase like a rag doll

“Take care of er’ will ya?”

The voice of your captor yelled down from the top step, slamming the door behind himself and surely locking it in the process

Disoriented and nurses a now slight headache, you mustered the energy to prop yourself up, hazy eyes bouncing about the room before they landed on what could only be described as a large, terrifying figure standing a few yards away

He wore a stained and tattered apron, brown stains you were hoping were dirt and not dried old blood

One hand gripped a cleaver, whatever he was chopping up before you entered the basement sat mutilated on a work bench, the stench of iron heavy in the air

Despite all that, the man seemed frozen, staring back at you through the eye holes in a poorly sew together mask

“I didn’t even wanna be here,”

You started before you I could stop yourself

“My so called friends dragged me out of my room a few days ago for a last minute road trip, and of course when one of them decided to bring their fuck ass car without checking it out first, it literally gave up on itself and then I get sent out to look for help but guess what! We’re in the middle of nowhere so I found this house and well it’s your house so that’s just my luck”

The man only blinked, body language clearly taken aback that you weren’t screaming bloody murder

“Just, if you’re gonna kill me, can you at least knock me out first so it doesn’t hurt?”

A loud knock at the door startled the two of you, followed by the man from earlier noisily coming down the stairs

“Why haven’t you taken care of er’ yet bubba?”

The man didn’t yell but he definitely sounded upset by this turn of events

The other man, who you now knew was called Bubba, shuffled awkwardly in his spot, rubbing the back of his head before robotically motioning to you, still sat on the floor

“You like er’ huh?

You watched the exchange quietly, although unable to contain the confusion set on you’d features

“Fine, but she’s yours to deal with, you remember what happened last time we took in a stray”

At that you pointedly turned around, staring up at the man that regarded you in terms like you were a dog

“Well I’m not a stray, technically you kidnapped me-“

Bo Sinclair

You weren’t entirely sure how you ended up in this seemingly abandoned town, one minute you were checking the map for your exit and then you missed it

Now you were here, coming to a stop as you realized you needed gas and weren’t anywhere near the hotel you had booked for the night

You definitely weren’t getting the rooms deposit back

Pulling into an empty parking lot, you pulled your phone from the passenger seat only to come up dry when the cell service was next to nothing

Then, before you could warn your heart not to jump out of your chest, a knock on your side window pulled a startled yelp from your throat

A man, not too old but not young either, stood on the other side of the car door, neutral expression morphing into a cheesy smile when your gaze met his and exchanged a few seconds of awkward, panicked staring

Brows raising in realization that the stranger, while sketchy and probably holstering a gun, could maybe help you figure out where you were and where to go

Opening the creaking door to your vehicle you pocketed your pepper spray just in case before hoping out of your seat and into the chilly night air

“You lost?”

“No, I intentionally ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere”

The man chuckled, albeit seeming taken aback by the brash sarcasm about your current situation

“Well good thing you ran into me, little lady”

The man who still carried about like this predicament was the most normal in the world smiled wider when your face pinched up in confusion, placing an open palm out to you

“I’m Bo, and you are, darlin?”

“Someone who knows not to shake hands with a complete stranger”

“Feisty”

“Oh, I’m getting there”

Despite the night breeze tickling the hairs on the back of your neck, you couldn’t help but enjoy the slight banter you were getting into

Although probably dangerous and wildly crazy to be out so late just walking around, this Bo character as charming, and something about his stare was growing increasingly comforting

“You know people don’t usually show up here, especially at night, all alone”

“But do they at least have gas in their tank? Because that’s already one up on me”

Bo threw his head back, whipping his hat off to push back the hair that fell towards his forehead in the fit of deep chuckles

“I’m normally not too inclined towards outsiders, but if you’d like a room for the night, I’d be happy to oblige little lady”

Art the clown

You strode through an alleyway, hands in your jacket pockets as you made your way back home

It was just your luck that the last night plans your friends picked for Halloween happened to be a party at the house of a guy you don’t even know

Especially your luck when only 20 minutes in you were all already abandoned, you’d ride gone and with it your phone charger

Thus, you nursed a bruised ego in a pirate costume, clutching your phone with one hand even though the battery was lost past dead

“Hey you!”

A distinctly male baritone called out from behind, you sped up not bothering to turn and face whatever stranger wanted a late night chat in the middle of an empty, dark alley

“Well that’s not very nice!”

The man responded to himself, deep chuckle furrowing worry lines between your brows

Just your luck, just your damn luck

Turning the corner to what could be described as more favorable to due the abundance of street lights and open space, the lack of people still has your nerves on overdrive

That was until you nearly ran smack into a body around the corner

Although expecting a gasp in surprise or shout in anger, all you received was a shocked expression, one such as a mime would use

Whoever this man was, was clearly wearing a very intricate costume, clown makeup done to the 9’s and a fully tailored suit to match, with a hefty, tan bag slung over one shoulder

All of your courage of wanting to leave this awful situation, and fear of what would happen if you didn’t took hold, before you knew it you were panicked and leaning forward, watching with just as much curiosity as the clown eyed you

“Listen you don’t know me, but there’s this guy following me and if you could just pretend to be, I don’t know, a friend, I would appreciate it”

The clown seemed to understand immediately, bright grin tossed on his features as the stranger that had previously had your full attention came to a stuttering halt

“Lady, I was talking to you back there”

“Oh! Sorry I just was meeting with someone and well, here they are!”

You laughed nervously, awkwardly leaning into the clown and patting at his shoulder, gazing at the stranger, you saw a look of terror cross his face right as he stumbled back a bit

“Yeah, got it”

And then he was high tailing it back the way he came

Glancing back at the costumed man you stood alone with, you caught how his face held a look of something utterly terrifying before he caught your eye, cheesy grin returning

“Thanks..”

You questioned for his name, grinning softly at the way realization of your ask spread across his face

Hand motions went left and up, down and right, then he paused, pulling the bag from his shoulder to rummage through it, pulling out what could only be described as junk, metal and rusty and junk none the less

Although the way he motioned to the item, placed it in your open palms and played a scene before you, you took to guessing

“Metal?”

“Sculpture…?”

He moved his fingers like a painter would stroke a canvas

“Art?”

That single word had the clown clapping his hands, tucking his body with a faux bow like you’d discovered something only a genius could

Laughing something genuine for the first time that night, you pondered if you should just take your chances and leave for home, or stick around a bit more with this concerning but most definitely interesting person

“So.. what else do you have in that bag?”

Stu Macher

Being the new student in a town where everyone already had friends, or at least those they only socialized with, was difficult

You’d only been here a week or so and you already wanted to move again, alas, that wasn’t exactly up to you

All you could do was hold your head high, and suck up the annoying situation you’d been tossed into

Now, a new school was bad enough, imagine your surprise would you found out there had recently been a string of grisly murders, unsolved and rampaging

Which is why you’d been an outcast since you’d appeared, like they all assumed it must be you, the murders starting, you arriving, it all was too much of a coincidence, despite the fact that it was

“Look at her, I’m telling you that girl gives off crazy”

Off handed comments like those weren’t unusual, yet today, after switching to a new class because of this exact issue, you’d had enough

“I bet she’s the killer”

“Oh yeah? And what’s your evidence?”

The girl gossiping with her friend abruptly stopped her ‘private’ conversation when she heard your quip

“Excuse me?”

You stood, in fact you stood so fast it made the chair screech across the floor, catching the attention of the rest of class

Luckily the teacher had stepped out and you could finally say what you needed without worry of authority looming over

“You know, if I’m supposedly killing students, like you say I am, why so proudly speak about it around me?”

You strode up to her desk, arms crossed with a look of disdain

She seemed taken aback, lips moving like a fish and head bobbing as she glanced between you and her friend

“Well, I-“

“If you really think I’m doing all this, why would you piss me off?”

The girl was at a loss, face paling as you simply said what you needed, before turning and grabbing your bag right as the bell went off, students funneling out behind you

Opening your locker, you startled when a body came crashing into the locker beside yours, arms crossed and looking at you with squinted eyes yet a wide grin

“So you’re the new girl?”

He wasn’t half bad looking, in fact, you found yourself heating up the longer he gazed down at you

He had this odd air about him, like someone holding too many secrets and hiding them far too out in the open, something that only seemed to allure you further

“And a murderer, haven’t you heard?”

You joked, taking out your next classes books before shutting the locker, the look on this guys face was utter curiosity, something you hadn’t received yet while being here

“Of course, just let me know what days you spree so I can avoid staying in”

Not gonna lie to y’all, I was so focused on getting this posted I haven’t spell checked or done a once over, there will and most likely are errors!

[specialagentlokitty]

Peter Hale x reader - as long as I’m not alone

Bolting up in bed, sweat poured down your forehead, your heart raced in your chest, and your breathing was ragged and you frantically searched the room for anything.

You found nothing out of place, and you slowly drew a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as you tossed the cover from off you.

Setting your feet on the cold floor, you slowly stood up and shaky legs and left your bedroom, making your way down the stairs of the loft and over to the couch where Derek was sat reading.

“Again?”

You simply nodded and he sighed, reaching out he wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you sat down, pulling you into his side.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), I really am. But we had no other choice, you know that.”

You simply nodded, because it was true and you knew that.

Derek had no choice when he killed Peter in front of you, for years you visited Peter, watching him just a shell of himself, then to find out he was the alpha killed people?

It hurt like hell, and then you lost him for the second time, this time for good, right in front of you.

“I can’t… I can’t stay here…” you whispered.

“I know, it’s why I packed your bags in your car when you went to bed…”

You nodded and he sighed heavily.

“Will you at least stay here tonight?”

You nodded, and Derek stayed up the whole night with you, watching crappy TV, and comforting you the best he could but he couldn’t do much.

Derek knew you understood why he did what he did, but he also knew that somewhere deep down part of you resented him for what he did, and he understood why.

When morning came, the gentle rays of sunshine hitting the window, you went upstairs to change and came back downstairs ti find Derek holding your keys.

“I’ll walk you out.”

“Thank you Derek, honestly. I’ve put the loft in your name, it’s yours now, okay?”

“Thank you.”

He walked out to you car, and you paused, turning back around to face his sad smile.

“I know you blame me (Y/N), and I understand.”

Reaching out, you gently hugged Derek, letting him rest his chin on your shoulder. Taking a deep breath, your closed your eyes for a second.

“I don’t blame you Derek, okay? You did what you had to do… it’s just.. I can’t… my whole life I’ve known you both…”

“I know… I know…”

You pulled away, wiping your tears with the back of your hand as you took a deep breath, smiling at him.

“You’ll come back, right?”

“I’m time, yes.” You nodded.

He nodded and watched sadly as you climbed into your car, he stood there, giving a small wave as you drive away.

He knew instantly where you were going first, you wouldn’t leave town without saying a proper goodbye to him.

You drove to the hale house, and slowly walked in, placing some white roses your brought along the way down on the floorboards.

Sitting on the dusty floor, you, placed your hand against the wood boards, fighting back the emotions that were trying to break free.

“I’m loosing my mind, this pain in my chest.. it.. it won’t go away Peter… it won’t leave…”

You let out a few tears, fiddling with the stems of one of the roses you had placed down.

“I can’t shake the nightmares… you were the only one who could calm me down… I need you here by my side…”

You sighed to yourself.

“Tell that you’re here now… tell me you have one more trick up your sleeve… just tell… just tell me fucking anything so I’m not alone!” You sobbed.

You waited, looking around, praying to every single deity you could think off that you were going to get some sort of reply.

That Peter was just going to jump out of the shadows and show that it was all just a plan he had.

But you got no reply and you buried your face in your knees as you sat crying for what you assumed was at least an hour.

When you were finally all cried out you looked down at the floor and leant down, resting your head against it.

“I need you Peter…”

With that, you got up and made your way out over to your car and drove away without bothering to look back.

You felt numb, even as you drove to your rental apartment in a whole new city, everything just felt so numb.

Empty.

You didn’t know what you were going to do, but you had enough money that Derek had given you. He said it belonged to Peter, and he wanted you to have it so you could get away from everything.

You kept in contact with Derek, calling him when he had the time to call, FaceTiming him when you couldn’t sleep and he came to visit a few times.

The months slowly slipped by, and you were finally processing everything that had happened back at Beacon Hills.

Sitting by a small lake, you were watching as the sunrise gently bounced along the small ripples of waves.

“Seriously (Y/N), you’ve been sat there all night, you must be freezing, go back to your apartment.”

Looking down at your phone, you shook your head a little bit.

“I’m fine, it’s pretty safe here actually, it’s just outside the city, practically had to fight my way through bushes to get here.”

Derek chuckled softly, shaking his head as he sat up from the couch and grabbed his phone as he started to walk around.

“I’ve got to go, pack meeting in five minutes, can I call you after?”

“Sure, but my phone might die. Tell everyone I said hi and that I’m okay.”

“I will, talk to you soon. And go home.”

You hung up and sighed, resting your chin on your knees as you carried on staring out at the water.

“He’s right you know, it’s cold.”

You screamed, jumping up you grabbed the gun from your boot and pointed it at the man approaching.

Your hands were shaking wildly, but even so, you knew you could land a solid shot, and so did he, which is way he stopped walking and raised his hands, giving you a small grin.

“You wouldn’t really shoot me, would you?” He teased a little bit.

You trembled, shaking your head a little bit.

“You.. you’re not… you’re not real… I just.. I just haven’t slept for so long I’m hallucinating…”

“Oh darling, I can assure you I am very much real. I can prove it if you’d really like. Just lower the gun, wolfsbane bullets have quite a nasty sting to them.”

You shook your head, keeping the gun aimed at him.

“You’re not him… you’re not Peter…”

“I am Peter, just lower the gun sweetheart.”

Peter slowly crept forward, and when you made no attempt to shoot him he took it as a good sign and carried on walking until he was right in front of you.

The barrel of your gun was pressed to his heart, but he stayed right there.

You closed your eyes and took a shaky breath.

“You’re not real… go away…”

“Look at me…” he whispered.

You didn’t reply, and he sighed, reaching up he placed his hand over the hand that was holding your gun.

His touch felt so real, so warm.

“I’m here…”

You shook your head, refusing to open your eyes.

“(Y/N), look at me. Just open your eyes okay? Open them and you’ll see I’m real, I’m here right in front of you, okay?”

You refused ti say anything back to him.

Peter slowly lowered your hand, taking the gun from your fingers he slowly lowered it to the floor and set it down before he stood back up.

Peter raised his hands to gently cradle your cheeks between them, running his thumbs along your skin.

“Say something…”

“I… I don’t know what to say…”

“Tell me that you love me, tell me that you hate me, scream, yell, cry, swear, curse, threat, anything. Just tell me anything so I know I’m not alone.”

You still hadn’t opened your eyes, and Peter sighed, kissing your forehead.

“I made a promise to you the day we got married (Y/N), I was never going to leave you, and I would always find my way back to you. And I did, it took a while but I found you.”

You slowly opened your eyes, gazing into Peter’s sad, soft eyes and you reached up, slowly pulling his hands away from his face.

You held his hands for a few seconds before you finally raised your hand, slapping him harshly across the face.

He yelped, jumping back as he cradled his cheek.

“Okay, I deserved that, I know I did. I swear I was going to find you darling, I looked everywhere for you, and Derek wouldn’t tell me anything. I found you because I realised he transferred you my money, and I followed your transactions all the way to the city. You live water, and this is the only lake nearby. I waited day after day for you.”

You shook your head at him, letting the tears fall free as you stared up at the werewolf.

“Peter I watched you die… I watched Derek slash your throat, and I held you as you took your dying breath…”

“I know… I’m sorry, truly. I never wished for you to witness anything like that. I wasn’t me, I wasn’t in the right state of mind.��

“Are you now…?”

You watched as Peter looked away, and you sighed heavily.

“Maybe not, maybe I never will be, but I don’t care about all that. I need you to know that I’m never going to leave you, even if you hate me, even if you want me gone, I’m not going.”

You turned away from him, going back to staring at the water.

You heard Peter walk closer, and he dropped his jacket over your shoulders, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he stood watching the water with you.

He watched to reach out, just hold you and never let go, but he knew better.

He had to wait for you to approach him, for you to process everything and finally tell him whatever it is you wanted.

If you wanted him to walk over flaming hot coals barefoot, if you wanted him to walk through hell, to eat mistletoe, sit in a field of wolfsbane, he would do it if you asked him to.

He needed you.

He needed you by his side, you were his sanity.

He couldn’t loose you, he couldn’t leave you, you were everything to him

[vulpes-fennec]

Don't Say Yes, Run Away Now

Summary: What if things took a different turn when Rhys shows up at Feyre and Tamlin's wedding? Warning: SMUT

Read on AO3

For @officialfeysandweek2023 Day 7 (Free Day)

***Rhys***

She liked to think about his mouth on her, especially on the smooth skin of her inner thighs. She tried to imagine what his broad hands would explore, how he would feel inside of her. Sometimes she pictured him moving slowly, other times her mind drifted towards something more fast-paced—urgent. Once, she considered taking charge, tracing her hand reverently across the skin of his wings and leaving him groaning with her tongue. 

He didn’t seek her out specifically, didn’t feel right about this invasion of privacy, even though every inch of him was screaming, yearning to learn more. He wanted to be fully present with his mate, instead of peeking through the windows of her mind and watching her life from the sidelines. 

But whenever she pleasured herself, her desires were so strong that they blew through his mental wards. He knew when she came, and was all too familiar with the knowledge that the following shame and guilt was when she realized it was, again, because of him. 

***Feyre***

“Is it not a lady’s dream come true, to marry her true love?” Elain had sighed wistfully three years ago. Hunched over on the rickety stool, with a threadbare dress, shivering from the chill, Feyre had looked up from the rabbit she was skinning.

Her sister was prone to such romantic daydreams. Still, Feyre had conceded with a “perhaps,” her mind drifting to Isaac Hale’s brown-eyed gaze. The only boy in her life had not stirred such feelings from her heart, though she did feel jealousy from time to time. No, he could not be her true love.

I did not dream of marriage back then, because I did not love Isaac. Today I am marrying Tamlin…so why do I still feel the same way? 

She was unrecognizable in the mirror. Her golden-blonde hair, curled into an elaborate pile of ringlets. Her lips, painted a dusty rose pink. The gauzy veil that would not hide her hesitations as she walked down the aisle. The Spring Court was known for its extravagance, but even this was too much. Her wedding gown was a mountain of puffed satin and tulle, with loops of ribbon and embroidered white flowers assaulting her eyes. 

It’s because I don’t love Tamlin. 

The conclusion came crashing down at the eleventh hour, despite weeks of attempting to fend it off. Roiling nausea threatened to send her to the bathroom. Feyre clenched her jaw and swallowed the pooling saliva, forcing herself to breathe. Wrong, wrong, everything was so wrong. In her distress, the edge of her glove had slipped down slightly, revealing the swirling black ink of her bargain tattoo with Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. Feyre’s mouth twitched in a barely suppressed growl as she tugged it back up. Bearing the mark of another male on her wedding day to another was…it was…

Rhysand’s violet eyes shining in the dim light of the dungeons. His feline grin driving her mad. The heat of his tongue along her cheek—

The door knocked, scattering Feyre’s memories.  

“It’s time, Feyre.” Alis peeked into the room, regarding her with a carefully neutral expression. Feyre turned and nodded, forcing the corners of her mouth to turn upwards. 

The opulently wall-papered halls of the manor seemed to close in on them as Feyre walked towards the lawn. Alis, thankfully, kept silent, as if she knew Feyre was trying to sort through her emotions before the ceremony. 

We were never the same after Amarantha, she reflected. Feyre’s slippered feet grew heavier with each step, as if urging her to stall the wedding for as long as possible. Tamlin…his anger had grown deeper. His simple jealousy had twisted into suffocating overprotectiveness…he had become afraid to live. To let me live. 

Night after night, waves of nausea and guilt colliding in the marble bathroom, tears streaking down her cheeks…all while the High Lord of Spring continued to sleep silently, in her bed. 

Don’t be silly Feyre, he wasn’t sleeping, she told herself. He could hear everything. He couldn’t comfort me during my worst, because he couldn’t help himself, Feyre suddenly realized. Is this what eternity will be like? Spending forever with a husband who simultaneously cares too much and too little? Wrong, wrong, wrong. 

The spring sunlight, once warm and gentle, was now piercingly bright. As if its rays proclaimed, “look! Look at this once-human wretch, happily ever after handed to her on a golden platter, and she doesn’t want it!” to the entire audience.

When Feyre finally stopped squinting her eyes, it became clear that Ianthe had done her worst. The lords and ladies of Spring, dressed in finery and beaming at her expectantly. A whole quartet, playing a lilting wedding song. A sky-high tiered cake, more than enough for all the party attendants and piled with candied flowers, was bordering on tasteless. Crimson rose petals were scattered down the white carpet, like droplets of blood. That bitch, Feyre seethed internally. She knows how much I hate the color red, yet out of all the colors of spring, she picks red. The blonde priestess was smiling at the dais, soft white hands clasped demurely in front of her robe. But Ianthe’s blue eyes were victoriously smug, as if she was waiting for Feyre to break down in front of all of Spring Court’s nobility.

Don’t give her what she wants, Feyre resolved to herself. She took a deep breath, clutched her bouquet of sickeningly sweet flowers a little tighter, and stepped forward. And again. And again. She mechanically flicked her eyes towards Tamlin every few seconds. Tall, strong, confident…for the first time in a while, the High Lord looked the part. But Feyre knew he was anything but that. 

She’d seen too many dark circles, instances of frazzled hair, and tense workings of his jaw. The sighs at the dinner table, the haunted expressions during their garden strolls. Feyre couldn’t fathom calling the male standing before her her “husband”. The title left a bitter taste on Feyre’s tongue, the very sound of it making her cringe. A hollow feeling was deepening in her gut, a dizzying nausea pounding her head. 

What if I don’t marry Tamlin? Up ahead, Tamlin offered her a small smile of encouragement. Her own smile felt more like a grimace.

If I don’t marry him, Ianthe would probably go after him, Feyre suspected. The cunning, power-grabbing priestess had been poisoning Tamlin’s mind with her whispers the last few months, and would probably send Spring Court into a downward spiral soon. 

Is it too late? The expectant faces of wedding attendants said so. The crescendoing music, each step closer to the Tamlin, said so. The engagement ring, in all its symbolism of commitment, said so.

I haven’t said my vows yet, though. Feyre squeezed her bouquet even harder, her heart thudding faster than ever in her chest. The ring is just a rock. This event…no one will die if I don’t follow through. Not like what happened Under the Mountain, with the fae I had to kill. 

Crimson droplets of blood, all over her knife, all over her hands. 

I can’t marry him. I won’t marry him. 

Feyre stopped in her tracks. 

She didn’t think this moment through. Suddenly, everybody’s smiles seemed frozen, if not a little forced, like they were confused about what had just happened, but still trying to pretend everything was still alright.  

Feyre was trembling now, a mixture of fear and heady adrenaline bubbling in her veins. Shit, shit, shit. Help! Feyre’s mind scrambled for something, anything to excuse herself. What do I do, what do I do? I need help—

A clap of thunder boomed, rattling her teeth and sending nobles screaming. A massive slash of darkness appeared out of thin air, as if a piece of the void was tearing the picturesque scene of Spring apart. 

The beautiful male who stepped out of the rip was impeccably dressed in black, his hands tucked into his pants pockets. Night incarnate, with narrowed violet eyes, full lips curved in a smug smirk, brown skin that was rich and powerful. Rhysand.

***Rhys***

The clap of thunder to accompany the otherwise silent winnowing would be a nice effect, Rhys had decided, seconds before he heard Feyre’s panic down their mental bond. The mating bond, actually, he corrected himself.

He still couldn’t believe his mate was Feyre Archeron. And had spent the last few months fruitlessly trying to block her thoughts from his mind. He’d allowed himself a cheat day because she was getting married today—to Tamlin, of all males—and look at what happened. His mate needed him, even if she didn’t necessarily want him. So here he was.

Still, it felt good to rattle the Spring Court’s nobility whenever he could. 

“Oh, is this bad timing?” he blinked nonchalantly as he strolled onto the sprawling lawn. Fae scrambled away from the darkness spreading after him, staining the verdant grass black. 

There she was, his beautiful mate. Even if she wore a hideously puffy gown, her lovely face half-hidden by the veil, Feyre was the most beautiful female he had ever seen. She was trembling, not from fear, but from surprise. He forced his eyes away from her, glancing over at Tamlin with a blank stare. 

“What are you doing here?” The High Lord of Spring snarled. “You do realize you are trespassing on another court, do you not?”

Rhys shrugged. “You do realize Feyre Archeron and I share a bargain, that stipulates her presence at my court for one week every month, do you not? I’ve come to collect her now…didn’t realize it was your wedding day.”

Tamlin’s lips pulled back, revealing gleaming white teeth, when he realized he was bound by fae law to allow Feyre to honor her bargain with his sworn enemy. “If you don’t bring her back, unharmed, in seven days—” Tamlin let the threat hang in the air. 

“Oh, I promise to take very good care of her.” Rhys turned towards his mate, a secretive gleam of starlight twinkling in his violet eyes. Feyre was still staring at him, open-mouthed. “Perhaps I can even teach her a few things.” 

His suggestive remark didn’t even land; Tamlin and the rest of the wedding party were too shocked to register it. Feyre’s blue-gray eyes turned towards Tamlin apprehensively. Rhys smugly noted that she didn’t object to the arrangement, for any bride in love with her fiance should have pitched a fit at wedding delays. He crossed the distance between them and wordlessly gripped her elbow, pulling her closer with a bored expression on his handsome face. His mate was stiff as a board, her heart galloping like a horse. 

“Hold on,” Rhys murmured into Feyre’s ear, voice edged with amusement. She flinched again when he winnowed away, channeling the depths of his power to make the tremendous leap across Prythian, from Spring Court to Night Court. 

Feyre wrenched herself away from his grip, gasping with shock as she took in the pale stone columns, the vaulted ceilings, the ornate furniture of the Moonstone Palace above the Hewn City. For a moment, she looked like she was about to vomit. 

“What was that?” she gasped, her bridal veil askew.

“Never winnowed before?” Rhys teased, tucking his hands back into his pockets. He angled his head slightly, unabashedly checking out his mate. “Apologies, but you’ll get used to it.”

“Where am I?” Gods, she was so stunning, with those sharp blue eyes and flushed cheeks, that he almost forgot how to speak. She kept a good distance from him, her gloved hands balled into fists. A pity both their walls were still up, when all Rhys wanted was to let them down. 

“My home. My court is ruled from the mountain below, but…you will find privacy from them here.” 

“Like Under the Mountain?” Feyre’s lips pressed into a thin line, as if she was trying not to remember those harrowing three months. Rhys suppressed a shudder; those 50 years had wrought significant damage on him. But he was Fae. Feyre had been human, and endured it all. He was proud of her, though if he somehow found a way to tell her that, she would probably laugh at him. 

“I’d say Amarantha’s version was a pathetic attempt to mimic my court,” Rhys picked a speck of lint from his lapel. “But enough about that female.” 

“Why did you bring me here?” 

“My, my. So many questions, Feyre darling.” Rhys chuckled. He walked around her, circling her slowly. Feyre’s eyes followed him with suspicion. “You needed help, and I obliged. I’m sure you were dying to know when I’d stop by to honor our bargain…Spring can get awfully frilly sometimes.” 

She wrinkled her nose in the most adorable manner. “I don’t think about you at all, actually.” 

“Is that so?” Rhys stepped closer, backing Feyre up against a lounge chair. His smile is infuriatingly beautiful, she was thinking. He’s so tall, too. And his lips…they’re close enough for me to kiss. Oh gods…

Rhys tipped her chin up delicately, noting the slight shiver that passed through her body at his touch. At the dusting of pink that bloomed over her cheekbones. “I can hear your thoughts, darling. And I think we both know just how often you’ve thought of me the last few months.” 

The shock that filled her wide blue eyes was delicious. Rhys laughed, finally sauntering towards the other end of the hall, which ended in a veranda open to the stars. “I’m willing to accept your thanks at any time, you know,” he called to Feyre without looking back. 

Did the wind-swept peaks of the Illyrian mountains appear inhospitable to her? Unwelcoming? Did she find the indigo night sky, with its faint tinge of pink on the horizon, just as beautiful as he did? Was the moonstone palace to her liking, despite her affronted expression?

His instincts sensed something hurtling towards him.

A slim half second later, a sharp, clunky object slammed into the back of his head. Pain erupted from the point of impact, leaving Rhys clutching his head with disbelief. 

Feyre Archeron had thrown a shoe at him, and was wielding her remaining shoe like a javelin. Her expression was fierce, wild, and nearly had Rhys falling to his knees at how formidable she was. 

“Taking off your shoes? I see you’re making yourself right at home,” Rhys purred. 

“Fuck you,” Feyre snapped. She was more embarrassed than angry, for the crimson flush of her cheeks and averted gaze indicated shame rather than challenge.   

“I didn’t pry that much darling. A High Lord has far more important things to do.” Rhys shrugged with a half-apology, for it was true. He only felt what she sent down the bond. “Be a good girl for me here, and I’ll keep your…fantasies a secret from Tamlin.” Feyre’s eyes flashed again, and she raised her other shoe higher. Rhys felt his lips pull back from his teeth. “I dare you.” 

Feyre flung the shoe at him, but this time, Rhys was prepared. It dissolved into a fistful of glittering black dust.  

“Fine.” Feyre gritted out. “I think you are attractive, so what?” She crossed her arms, half-glaring at him. 

There are other things we can keep secret from Tamlin. Rhys cursed internally as he felt blood rushing to his cock. Did she really just say that? If that meant she wasn’t in love with Tamlin…Rhys shoved the delusions away, refusing to get his hopes up. 

“So what?” Rhys echoed, feeling a little faint.

“All Fae are attractive. You’re not special, Rhysand.” 

“Really,” he drawled lazily.

“You crashed my wedding, destroyed one of my shoes,” Feyre continued. “So I don’t feel like thanking you today.”  

“While your appreciation is greatly desired, I am committed to ensuring my guests have a comfortable stay regardless.” Rhys gave her a sarcastic smile. 

“I’d like to see you try,” she shot back, challenge flaring in her eyes. “I suppose I could use a bed after such an eventful day.”

“Oh? Is a bed all you need?” Rhys fought the urge to fidget with his jacket cuffs. 

Feyre shrugged. “Some company in it would also be nice.” She gave him a coy smile. 

He didn’t need to hear anything else. Rhys picked up the slipper Feyre had thrown at him, and crossed the span of the gilded room in several long strides. Threw his mate over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes without missing a beat. She stiffened at first, but then relaxed when his fingers stroked her lower back. The heat of Feyre’s skin through her dress, her scent of pear and lilac…Rhys felt dizzy at their proximity. 

Her puffy wedding gown nearly obscured his view as he walked up the stairs. Rhys swore he’d destroy this damn thing, turn this ugly dress into dust the moment they had a bit of privacy.   

***Feyre***

Like all things related to Rhysand, Feyre didn’t think she’d get this far. She was a little dazed as he carried her up the winding stairs, wondering how it was possible that she was getting ready for her wedding day in Spring Court just this morning. Rhysand laid her onto a massive bed with surprising gentleness, her body sinking into the puff of her gown. 

“Bed. Now.” 

Rhysand laughed softly, his chuckle deep as the night. “So demanding, Feyre darling.” But he obliged, shrugging off his black jacket and joining her on the bed. Before he could settle down, Feyre lurched upwards, bringing her mouth to his. 

The searing heat of desire that burned down her body was a stark contrast to how soft and full his lips were. They were very nice lips to look at, Feyre thought, and even better lips to kiss. His initial freeze of surprise was quickly remedied when he deepened the kiss, his tongue running along the seam of her lips, desperate to taste her. 

Rhys straddled her somehow, careful to keep the majority of his weight off her body, as he kissed her again, and again, and again. As if he couldn’t get enough of her. Feyre breathed in his scent of sea salt and citrus, marveling at how one kiss led to another without any effort. Each kiss was a little different, some were more delicate pecks at the corner of her mouth, others were more feral with the bite of his teeth against her lip.

“What are you going to do about the dress?” Feyre asked teasingly when they broke apart for air. “The female in your bed is wearing a wedding dress meant for another man.” 

Rhysand’s violet eyes darkened with a murderous glint. But his voice was a casual drawl. “Destroy it, of course. Burn it, or turn it to dust, I don’t care.” His gaze traveled down her body. “I hope you didn’t choose this dress, darling, because it’s gods awful.”

“Of course not.” Feyre was disgruntled. “It’s Ianthe’s work, can’t you tell?” 

“That explains it,” Rhysand grimaced. His hands worked against the pins in her hair, undoing them so he could pull off the veil. It was flung into some corner of the room. As he pulled the gloves off, he peppered her arm with kisses, giving special attention to the swirling tattoo on her left arm. Already, the white fabric was disintegrating under his touch. 

“Don’t…mist me,” Feyre warned, a tinge of concern rising in her. Rhysand was the most powerful High Lord in Prythian; one careless flick and she’d be dead. 

“I would never,” Rhysand crooned as he dissolved the entirety of her gown and underthings, leaving her utterly naked save for her necklace and earrings. 

For a 500-year old High Lord, Rhysand was surprisingly lost for words as he stared down at her. Feyre supposed he hadn’t been with a female of his own free will in a long time, but still. There was something wondrous in the way he looked at her, as if she was simultaneously precious and awe-inspiring at the same time. 

“Your clothes need to come off,” Feyre growled, realizing he was still dressed. She yanked him back down by his shirt. Buttons popped and scattered as she tore the front panels off, running her hands across the broad chest she’d been fantasizing about for months. 

Rhysand shifted his hips against hers as he tugged his pants off, the hardness of his erection pressing against Feyre’s inner thigh. The air around them was heavy with mingled arousal, the soft light casting shadows across Rhysand’s muscled body. He looked like an ancient sculpture of a long-ago hero come to life. 

“What do you want today, Feyre darling?” Rhysand rasped against her ear as he kissed the corner of her jaw. 

“I thought you would know, Rhysand.” Her voice was breathy, high, as she tried not to moan from the get-go.

Rhysand chuckled against her neck. “It never hurts to ask, Feyre. And call me Rhys.” Rhys. It seemed so casual for her to refer to the High Lord of the Night Court as just Rhys. The sound of his name on her tongue felt just right, so delicious and so perfect. 

Feyre gasped when his finger traced the curve of her breast, before cupping and squeezing it gently with his entire hand. Normally, she would close her eyes to imagine such a touch, but this was real life. This is real life, she thought with amazement. 

And Rhysand—Rhys—was too beautiful to not look at. 

Still straddling her lightly, his other hand experimentally slipping his fingers along her folds before rubbing her clit. She whimpered. A hot flush was surely materializing along her neck, and Feyre turned away with embarrassment. 

“Eyes on me,” Rhys said, a hint of a plea in his voice. He brought his hand up to his mouth, tasting her slick with the expression of a cat who had caught the mouse. 

“Rhys,” Feyre whispered, arcing her body upwards to press along his abdomen. “I need you.” 

“Shhh, patience, pet,” Rhys gave her a casual grin before he kissed her again, more harshly this time around. His hips undulated slightly, bringing the tip of his cock against her with each push forward. He was teasing her, Feyre realized, dipping the head into her entrance without fully entering. If he was this big already—

“We’ll make it fit,” Rhys murmured in between kisses, his breath a little ragged now. 

They groaned in unison when Rhys thrust for the first time. Feyre was trembling—every nerve in her body was lighting up—her mind scrambled up except for one thing: Rhys, Rhys, Rhys. Rhys himself had bowed his head against the crook of Feyre’s neck, his ebony black locks silky soft against her skin. 

When he lifted his head up, there was starlight in his eyes. 

“Feyre,” he whispered, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening right now.

“Rhys,” she responded, pushing her hips slightly against him to indicate she was ready. He nodded wordlessly, throat bobbing, and slowly pulled out. 

Rhys was gentle as he slid back in, but Feyre still let out a shaky breath at the fullness between her legs. He returned his attention back to her breasts, gently fondling them as she liked and lavishing kisses on the sides. The tickle of his breath, hot glide of his tongue, and pressure of his fingers were a symphony that lifted her higher and higher with each touch. The rhythmic thrusts and slight grind of his hips against her clit only added to the coiling tension in her gut.

“Rhys—” Feyre moaned. “Oh gods, Rhys, please.” 

“I love it when you say my name,” he purred, the vibrations of his voice smooth as silk. “You are exquisite.” 

“Rhys!” Feyre cried, shaking as release seized control of her voice, her limbs, her mind. He had reduced her to a trembling, whimpering mess in the matter of minutes. Gods knew what else he had up his sleeve. 

“You felt so good cumming on my cock,” Rhys groaned. She could feel her pussy still flexing involuntarily as he continued to thrust into her, more roughly and urgently before. The plat, plat, plat sound of skin-on-skin and the lubricated slap of his cock made Feyre’s fae instincts go wild. He nearly stilled when she moaned. “Too sensitive?” Rhys asked, stroking the curve of her waist. 

“No, keep going,” Feyre bit out. She would ride it out, would let the male before her find his release too. “Fuck me harder, Rhys. Fuck me until I forget everything else. Please.” 

Once a month, for a week. He was probably laughing at her in his head, at how easy she was. But she could escape her troubles with Spring and with Tamlin here. 

Rhys’s answering thrust put all those musings out of her mind. This was perfection…she didn’t care what he thought of her anymore. Feyre canted her hips upwards, craving more of him. Rhys pounded into her with increasing intensity, hard, swift thrusts that had her gripping the sheets and rolling her eyes with pleasure. 

“Shit, Feyre,” Rhys gasped. He said her name like a prayer. “You’re doing so well.” 

She had fantasized him fucking her into the mattress several times, but none of those scenarios could have compared to the real life event. His chiseled, muscular form moving above her. The broad, callused hands gripping her waist for leverage. Those riveting violet eyes staring straight into her soul.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Feyre chanted, the words falling from her lips with each jolt backwards. There were stars on Rhys’s ceiling, she realized. A web of constellations crafted from fine diamonds, positioned against an indigo blue backdrop. It’s beautiful, she thought, feeling like she’d transcended her physical form.

His rhythm was becoming uneven, indicating he was close. With a loud groan that sounded like her name, Rhys pulled out, hot cum spurting onto the plane of her bare stomach. Feyre shivered at the sight, feeling a twinge of remorse that Rhys didn’t finish inside of her. She understood why he didn’t, but…still. 

Feyre wrapped a hand around the nape of Rhys’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss, savoring the feel of his mouth. She wasn’t sure if he would oblige her again. 

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” he murmured as he broke away. Feyre lay, spread-eagled on the soft bed, feeling the reverberations of their actions deep in her bones. Rhys returned with a warm towel, and he wiped away his release with exceeding tenderness. 

The night sky, or perhaps Rhys himself, must have made Feyre emotional, for she found herself overcome with a contentment that made tears well up in her eyes. Somehow, she felt safe and secure, even though the Night Court was the farthest from home—home in the human lands—she had ever been. There was something raw about the way Rhys moved, from the way he looked at her, that made her feel as if he was an intimate friend. 

“Would my darling guest like to do something else?” Rhys asked softly. 

Feyre shook her head. “I would like to sleep,” she murmured. Indeed, the excitement of the day’s events were catching up to her, making the swaddle of Rhys’s silken sheets very appealing. 

“Very well, then. I’ll let you be.” Rhys draped a soft blanket over her form, fingers brushing hair from her forehead. Stay, Feyre wanted to say. But the words would not come out. 

She grabbed his wrist just as he was turning away. He was still naked, regarding her with solemn authority. “Thank you,” was all she could utter. Rhys nodded curtly, a small, genuine smile curving at his lips, before exiting the room.

[audreyhalessaviour]

A post to assist Audrey Hale research.

Links that Audrey made herself.

https://web.archive.org/web/20230327201651/https://ahillustrations.myportfolio.com/

https://www.pinterest.com/audreyhale10/

https://www.tumblr.com/floofymcmuffin2317

https://web.archive.org/web/20230328003005/https://www.linkedin.com/in/audreyhale10/

https://web.archive.org/web/20230327193021/https://www.tiktok.com/@iam_aiden10

https://web.archive.org/web/20230327200834/https://www.redbubble.com/people/AidenCreates/shop

https://soundcloud.com/user-431161390

Useful links for research.

https://www.thesilentbell.org/

https://web.archive.org/web/20240000000000*/https://audreyhalememorial.tumblr.com/

https://web.archive.org/web/20240501000000*/https://www.tumblr.com/audreyhalememorial

Audrey Hale Memorial might take a bit of fiddling around with in the archives because wayback doesn't work very well for archiving Tumblr pages but it's worth it. If you can't get it DM me and I'll send you the local archive AHM sent to me. It's not complete and it's too big to link somewhere else but it's better than nothing.

https://schoolshooters.info/aiden-hale

Tips.

I'm not a professional by any means but maybe these tips can help somebody. Imagine the places you are searching are old dusty places lost to time. Places where nobody would look for Audrey. Search things like obscure websites, profiles of people she knew, places she frequented think outside the box.

If you find something and don't want to share it yourself or need help with a search please feel free to message me.

[mybadlywrittenstories]

Two Different Worlds (Jasper Hale Fanfiction) Chapter Two

Word Count: 2,699

*Beep* *Beep* *Beep*

A chorus of grumbled profanities left my chapped lips as my hand searched blindly for my deafening alarm. Once the alarm was silenced, I groggily opened my eyes, rubbing the crusted sleep from my eyes as I did. Looking over to my clock I saw the time read 6:02am. A sense of anxiety began to fill my chest as I realized today would be my first day at my new high school.

It seemed childish to worry about something so trivial as going to a new school especially when I would only be here for the next few months. The typical 'what if I get lost' and 'what if no one likes me?' echo in my head regardless. Childish or not, I was still worried. Which is why I decided to get up so god-awfully early. To make the absolute best first impression I could, this was a small town after all. I'm sure whatever gossip spreads around about me is going to be based mainly on how today goes.

My body protested as I clamored out of bed, desperate for more rest. I didn't forfeit and go back to bed though, I dragged myself in the shower carrying my toiletries basket with me and grabbing two towels from the hallway closet on my way. I went through my typical shower routine, the mundane task did little to help wake me up. There was however a sense of comfort in the familiar tasks such as scrubbing my hair with my coconut-scented shampoo and washing my face with some bubbly cleanser Abbi had let me 'permeantly borrow'. Even tho I was across the country, some things were still the same. It was a pleasant reminder that they were still there for me, regardless of the distance.

As I left the shower I dried my hair to the best of my ability with the first of my two towels, wrapping the second securely around my frame. I made a mental note that I'd have to ask Bella if she brought our shared hair dryer. I rubbed some coconut oil into the length of my hair and combed through its length with my fingers. Moving onto my face I applied a sweet-scent moisturizer to my face. Lastly, I brushed my teeth for a solid three minutes and used Charlie's Spirimint mouthwash.

Once I felt properly cleaned, I made my way out of the bathroom, dropping my hair towel and dirty pajamas into the hallway hamper, and went back into my room. Good impression... Good impression... Repeated in my mind as I tore through my suitcases looking for something to wear. I threw my red corduroy pants onto my bed, then looked for a matching shirt. The weather in Forks was wildly different than in Arizona, so my shirt selection was limited. After about five minutes of my irritating search, I landed on my thick white sweater. The only sweater in my wardrobe; I mentally noted I may want to pick up a few extra shirts and pants the next time I was close to a department store.

--Ding Ding Ding

I heard the distant sound of Bella's alarm going off in her room, followed quickly by the muffled sluggish footsteps of her getting up to go use the restroom. Sparing a glance at my digital clock I saw it was already 7:20, meaning I had about an hour to do my makeup, and hair, and then eat before we had to be on our way to school.

I rustled through my bags again searching for a pair of socks, underwear, and bra, then swiftly got dressed. I took a seat in the old leather desk chair my father had bought me secondhand a few years ago, and started to apply my makeup. I am by no means a pro makeup artist so I settled for a little bit of concealer, lipgloss, light blush and highlighter, and some pink-tinted eyeshadow mixed with a light brown; dabbing a light dusting of the highlighter around the tear ducts of my eyes. As far as hair went, I never got very fancy with it, opting to quickly brush my hair out to ensure no knots, then slapping a scrunchie on my wrist just in case the wind proved to be too much today.

I grabbed my pair of dusty white sketchers with me, as I made my way out of my room. My dirty towel was left forgotten on my bedroom floor. I could hear Bella still getting ready in her room and decided I would make something for the both of us to eat before school. I clamored down the staircase and into the kitchen, as I browsed through the kitchen I realized I'd have to stop by the store sometime soon to stock up the Kitchen. Charlie seemingly had been living on scraps for god knows how long.

I placed two pieces of wheat bread into the toaster and pushed down the lever, then poured some slightly stale-looking Cheerios into two bowls and placed the milk on the table. I buttered the toast once it was done cooking and placed one piece in front of each of the bowls. As I poured milk into my bowl, I heard Bella's door slam open followed by the clumsy footsteps of her coming downstairs. She wore a simple green button-up shirt and grey long-sleeve ensemble, paired typically with a pair of dark skinny jeans. It wasn't anything fancy but it was very Bella.

"I made breakfast" I stated as she entered the Kitchen, "It's nothing fancy Dad doesn't have much." I finished before eating my meal, she hummed in agreement before sitting down silently and picking at the piece of toast.

"Should we go grocery shopping?" She asked, pouring the milk into her bowl.

"Yeah, probably," I answered before shoving a mouthful of cereal into my mouth. Once I swallowed I continued, "I have a half schedule here, since I completed most of my credits back in Arizona. If you don't mind I could take your truck once I am done, then pick some stuff up at the market."

She hummed in consideration, then nodded her head, "Yeah that'll work. Just don't take too long. I don't want to wait in this weather." She said, wrinkling her nose up in disgust.

"I'll be quick, don't worry."

We finished eating in silence, not an uncomfortable silence. This is how it was often like with Bella, she was always content to sit in silence. No need for unnecessary chit-chat.

Bella took both our dishes to the sink and started to speedily rinse them off. I took the time to check my back backpack and make sure everything I'd be needing was tucked away safely.

Books- Check. Notepad- Check. Pencil Pouch- Check. iPod- Check. Earbuds- Check.

I tucked my small flip phone in the side pocket, everything I'd need to survive the day. Neatly packed up, ready to go. As Bella came into the small hallway, she handed me a small wad of cash.

"From the grocery fund."

"Thanks."

We both put on our jackets, lugged our school bags onto our shoulders, and laced up of sneakers. She grabbed her new car keys off the small hook and opened the door for me. I nodded my head in thanks as we made our way out in the frigid early morning.

The drive to school went smoothly, her engine roared to life almost comically loud. Suddenly, I was thankful Charlie had gifted this old truck to Bella instead of me; I could feel the eyes turning towards us as we slowly drove by through the town. I'm surprised it didn't seem to make a difference to her, typically she hates having the attention drawn on her.

We made it to the school a lot quicker than we had expected. The school being on the other side of town didn't hold as much of a punch as it did back in Phoenix. It took us less than ten minutes to make it to Forks High. The parking lot was already busy and bustling full of students, all of whom turned their eyes to watch the unfamiliar old truck roll up; Alerted due to the sound of the engine.

Bella was quick to park in the nearest available space and shut off the engine. Her cheeks dusted a light pink-- Ah so the noise does bother her. A small smirk tugged at my lips, it was a tad cruel but it did seem fair. She gets a free car, she deserves a light sprinkling of public humiliation.

We made our way into the school office together, thankfully it wasn't hard to find. This school was not even a quarter the size of our old high school. The lady sitting at the front desk was a rather large woman, with big red hair; a few streaks of grey mixed into the wild web of hair. On top of her nose sat a pair of round glasses which seemed to shrink her already small eyes. On the desk in front of her lay a nameplate 'Shelly Cope'

"Well good morning, the Swan girls I presume?" She asked, her voice was sweet but had a certain stern edge to it. No doubt caused by her many years working with unruly teens.

"Yes ma'am," I answered for both of us, "We just needed to pick up our class schedules."

"I see, I see." She mumbled moving around a few papers on her desk. "Just give me a minute, dear. I know I had them around here somewhere..." She trailed off.

Me and Bella stood there awkwardly as she frantically searched through the mounds of paper littered across her desk. That familiar anxious thrumming of my heartbeat in my chest, I don't know why but a sense of extreme unease started to wash over me. It was making me nauseous.

"Here we go, girls!" Ms. Cope exclaimed lifting up two bundles of paper. "This one is for you Isabella." She stated holding out a piece of paper for Bella to grab. Bella made an unhappy noise at the use of her full name, but grabbed the paper regardless; mumbling a quiet thank you. "And this one is for you, dear," She handed me a stack of three papers. "You'll have a class schedule, a map of the school, and an attendance sheet. Please make sure your teachers sign the attendance sheet and then turn it back into me at the end of your classes." She finished, a genuine warm smile spreading across her face.

"Will do."

"No problem."

We both walked out of the office and looked at our class schedules. Both of us groaned when we were reminded of Forks High's most frustrating policy. Mandated Gym all four years. I could take some solace in the fact I only had three periods, and the last one I'd be able to go immediately home and shower-- assuming it was a particularly sweaty workout.

Bella peered over to my schedule and let out a sigh when she saw we shared no classes together. I put a reassuring arm around her should and dragged her away from the parking lot. "Don't worry, Bells. Time will fly by at school you'll hardly notice I'm gone." I joked, giving her shoulder a soft squeeze.

"I just thought it would be nice if at least you were in some of my classes, would be nice to not be completely alone."

It stung at my heart to hear the tone in her voice, maybe I could stay for her lunch period after my gym class. Make sure she wasn't wallowing in self pity by herself at lunch. "Don't stress about it to much, you dork. I'll come eat with you at lunch, how does that sound?"

"I guess that would be okay."

"See you then, Bells! Now let's get to class." I urged, and we parted ways. My first period was English with a Mr. Berty. Second Period was Trigonometry with Mr. Varner. Then lastly, Gym with Coach Clapp. I unfolded the map in my small stack paper and tried to pinpoint my first class. It didn't take me very long to find where I was supposed to go, the map seemed pretty straight forward. So on my way I went, following the map and the few signs scattered around the bustling halls.

As the minutes ticked by, the halls started to thin out and pretty soon I was alone in the long hallway staring down at the map that started to seem more and more complex as time went on. I swear the class should be right here, but as I looked through the windows of the classroom all I saw was vacant rooms. Stacked up chairs and desks in the corner. How the hell did I end up here?

"Are you lost?" A voice called from shockingly close behind me, an angelic voice that was captivatingly alluring. I turned to see who had spoken and my heart skipped a beat. A small frail looking girl stood in front of me, her short spikey hair perfectly framing her ungodly beautiful face accentuating her abnormally gold tinted eyes. A small sense of fear started to snake it's way through my body, causing confusion to swirl around in my head. I was only about 5'3 but I almost toward over this angel on earth, there was no reason for me to fear her; and yet here I was heart beating quickly, hands becoming more clammy by the second.

"Uhm," I cleared my throat, trying to push away my unease, "Well, yes. I thought this was the way to my English class but I seem to have gotten turned around somewhere." I explained sheepishly.

Her melodious laugh broke the awkward silence that had encapsulated us. "How perfect." She sung, clapping her small hands together, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "I was just heading there when I saw you wondering around over here. Why don't you walk with me?" She offered, beaming up at me.

"That's very kind of you," I smiled, her genuine kindness dissipated my unease, I motioned down the hall for her, "After you."

A small giggle escaped her mouth yet again, "That's the wrong way, Cali. We have to go back the way you came. You turned left when you should've gone right." She stated, grabbing my hand and leading me along with her. She was exuding such optimism I almost missed her used of my nickname.

"How did you know my name was Cali?" I asked, trying to pull my hand back to my side in skepticism, but her iron clad grip didn't weaken. Without missing a single beat she responded to my question, "Oh I suppose I got a bit ahead of myself." Her light skip towards the end of the hall slowed and she looked over at me as she continued, "I'm Alice Cullen, and trust me everyone knows about you and you sister Isabella. You've been the talk of the town." I cringed slightly at the thought of my dad running around talking about me, hopefully he didn't tell anyone anything to embarrassing. What she said covered everything, except one small detail. I could see her mouth twitch the second I opened my mouth to speak.

"How did you know I went by Cali though?" I pondered, noticing the smallest glint in her eye, "Most people call me by my first name Calliope, at least when we first meet." I explained, nervous I had upset her going off the look on her face.

Her face perked up within the second, quickly responding, "Well I wasn't positive but you don't look like the type to go by Calliope, call it a lucky guess."

"Ah I see, that's fair. Very lucky guess." Her face lit up and she picked up her quick skip as we neared the end of the empty hall, "You'll learn that about me pretty quickly, my dear. I make very lucky guesses." She sung before we stopped outside of a door, right as the bell rang. "Here it is."

[solesommerso]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ dinner with no chairs ⋆ﾟ⊹

pairing: derek hale x reader

prompt: “you need some real food. come sit, i made dinner.”

a/n: look @blathannabeaga I remembered how to write fluff !!

warnings: set sometime in season 2 before derek finds out that jackson is the kanima

-

You huff as you watch Derek angrily slam another book shut, it’s been hours of him researching and while you know how important it is, this is getting exhausting just to watch. It’s nearing nine pm now, you can’t remember the last time Derek has eaten or even moved from his spot leaning against the charred wall of the Hale house. You make a mental note to try and get him to come to your house the next time you two decide to spend hours hunched over books, just to be somewhere not so close to falling apart above you two.

“I’ll be right back.” You call out and while you know Derek hears you, he gives zero reaction to your leaving. Too absorbed in finding a way to save whoever the poor bastard is that’s turning into a lizard and killing people almost nightly.

-

It takes all of twenty minutes for you to pick up a hefty amount of takeout for the two of you, and a couple pieces of cake from the convenience store that’s close to the trail of woods you have to drive through to get back to Derek. The view is nice, peaceful, there’s no other houses around nor any other people, you can see why Derek misses the house so much.

Derek hasn’t moved an inch when you step back inside, rolling your eyes when he gives you half a wave once the door bangs shut. The table is dusty and barely holding up given the past damage from the fire and the amount of backs that have been slammed onto that thing, it’s a wonder how it hasn’t collapsed into dust yet.

But you take your luck where you can get it and start to set out the takeout, there’s no chairs around but you’ve been sitting on the floor all day so you figure it’ll be fine.

“you need some real food. come sit, I made dinner.” Kind of. Derek stands, cracking his back as he does, and side eyes the display of food you have laid out.

“You bought dinner, and there’s no chairs.” You slap at his arm with a groan when he smirks all cockily at his own teasing.

“Oh shut up and just eat would you.” You reach for a box of rice, trying not to show that you’re watching Derek’s every move as you are genuinely worried that he hasn’t eaten anything all day. If he does feel your eyes he doesn’t say anything and casually grabs one of the containers of pasta you bought.

“You know you didn’t have to do this.” Hale slumps against the wall, sliding down next to where to sit resting your food on a closed book on your lap as a makeshift table.

“I know, I just wanted to.” You shrug, a warm smile pulling on your lips when Derek softly presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you, really.” His lips linger a bit, you lean into it and let your head eventually fall to his shoulder with a content sigh. You know how grateful he is without words, though you appreciate the sincerity in his tone and how his arm wraps around your shoulders to pull you in closer.

-

[eludin-realm]

Character Name Ideas (Male)

So I've been browsing through BehindTheName (great resource!) recently and have compiled several name lists. Here are some names, A-Z, that I like. NOTE: If you want to use any of these please verify sources, meanings etc, I just used BehindTheName to browse and find all of these. Under the cut:

A: Austin, Aiden, Adam, Alex, Angus, Anthony, Archie, Argo, Ari, Aric, Arno, Atlas, August, Aurelius, Alexei, Archer, Angelo, Adric, Acarius, Achilou, Alphard, Amelian, Archander B: Bodhi, Bastian, Baz, Beau, Beck, Buck, Basil, Benny, Bentley, Blake, Bowie, Brad, Brady, Brody, Brennan, Brent, Brett, Brycen C: Cab, Cal, Caden, Cáel, Caelan, Caleb, Cameron, Chase, Carlos, Cooper, Carter, Cas, Cash, Cassian, Castiel, Cedric, Cenric, Chance, Chandler, Chaz, Chad, Chester, Chet, Chip, Christian, Cillian, Claude, Cicero, Clint, Cody, Cory, Coy, Cole, Colt, Colton, Colin, Colorado, Colum, Conan, Conrad, Conway, Connor, Cornelius, Creed, Cyneric, Cynric, Cyrano, Cyril, Cyrus, Crestian, Ceric D: Dallas, Damien, Daniel, Darach, Dash, Dax, Dayton, Denver, Derek, Des, Desmond, Devin, Dewey, Dexter, Dietrich, Dion, Dmitri, Dominic, Dorian, Douglas, Draco, Drake, Drew, Dudley, Dustin, Dusty, Dylan, Danièu E: Eadric, Evan, Ethan, Easton, Eddie, Eddy, Einar, Eli, Eilas, Eiljah, Elliott, Elton, Emanuel, Emile, Emmett, Enzo, Erik, Evander, Everett, Ezio F: Faolán, Faron, Ferlin, Felix, Fenrir, Fergus, Finley, Finlay, Finn, Finnian, Finnegan, Flint, Flip, Flynn, Florian, Forrest, Fritz G: Gage, Gabe, Grady, Grant, Gray, Grayson, Gunnar, Gunther, Galahad H: Hale, Harley, Harper, Harvey, Harry, Huey, Hugh, Hunter, Huxley I: Ian, Ianto, Ike, Inigo, Isaac, Isaias, Ivan, Ísak J: Jack, Jacob, Jake, Jason, Jasper, Jax, Jay, Jensen, Jed, Jeremy, Jeremiah, Jesse, Jett, Jimmie, Jonas, Jonas, Jonathan, Jordan, Josh, Julien, Jovian, Jun, Justin, Joseph, Joni, K: Kaden, Kai, Kale, Kane, Kaz, Keane, Keaton, Keith, Kenji, Kenneth, Kent, Kevin, Kieran, Kip, Knox, Kris, Kristian, Kyle, Kay, Kristján, Kristófer L: Lamont, Lance, Landon, Lane, Lars, László, Laurent, Layton, Leander, Leif, Leo, Leonidas, Leopold, Levi, Lewis, Louie, Liam, Liberty, Lincoln, Linc, Linus, Lionel, Logan, Loki, Lucas, Lucian, Lucio, Lucky, Luke, Luther, Lyall, Lycus, Lykos, Lyle, Lyndon, Llewellyn, Landri, Laurian, Lionç M: Major, Manny, Manuel, Marcus, Mason, Matt, Matthew, Matthias, Maverick, Maxim, Memphis, Midas, Mikko, Miles, Mitch, Mordecai, Mordred, Morgan, Macari, Maïus, Maxenci, Micolau, Miro N: Nate, Nathan, Nathaniel, Niall, Nico, Niels, Nik, Noah, Nolan, Niilo, Nikander, Novak, O: Oakley, Octavian, Odin, Orlando, Orrick, Ǫrvar, Othello, Otis, Otto, Ovid, Owain, Owen, Øyvind, Ozzie, Ollie, Oliver, Onni P: Paisley, Palmer, Percival, Percy, Perry, Peyton, Phelan, Phineas, Phoenix, Piers, Pierce, Porter, Presley, Preston, Pacian Q: Quinn, Quincy, Quintin R: Ragnar, Raiden, Ren, Rain, Rainier, Ramos, Ramsey, Ransom, Raul, Ray, Roy, Reagan, Redd, Reese, Rhys, Rhett, Reginald, Remiel, Remy, Ridge, Ridley, Ripley, Rigby, Riggs, Riley, River, Robert, Rocky, Rokas, Roman, Ronan, Ronin, Romeo, Rory, Ross, Ruairí, Rufus, Rusty, Ryder, Ryker, Rylan, Riku, Roni S: Sammie, Sammy, Samuel, Samson, Sanford, Sawyer, Scout, Seán, Seth, Sebastian, Seymour, Shane, Shaun, Shawn, Sheldon, Shiloh, Shun, Sid, Sidney, Silas, Skip, Skipper, Skyler, Slade, Spencer, Spike, Stan, Stanford, Sterling, Stevie, Stijn, Suni, Sylvan, Sylvester T: Tab, Tad, Tanner, Tate, Tennessee, Tero, Terrance, Tevin, Thatcher, Tierno, Tino, Titus, Tobias, Tony, Torin, Trace, Trent, Trenton, Trev, Trevor, Trey, Troy, Tripp, Tristan, Tucker, Turner, Tyler, Ty, Teemu U: Ulric V: Valerius, Valor, Van, Vernon, Vespasian, Vic, Victor, Vico, Vince, Vinny, Vincent W: Wade, Walker, Wallis, Wally, Walt, Wardell, Warwick, Watson, Waylon, Wayne, Wes, Wesley, Weston, Whitley, Wilder, Wiley, William, Wolfe, Wolfgang, Woody, Wulfric, Wyatt, Wynn X: Xander, Xavier Z: Zachary, Zach, Zane, Zeb, Zebediah, Zed, Zeke, Zeph, Zaccai

[allisonjamaica]

hello friends i have returned from the war to drop this thiam oneshot into the wild:

the jury’s out (but my choice is you)

Summary:

When Stiles found out that Liam had resurrected Theo freaking Raeken while he was benched by the whole erased-from-existence-and-trapped-in-a-dusty-train-station-with-only-Peter-Hale-for-company ordeal, he reacted with all the grace and calm the revelation warranted.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

In which various members of the McCall pack struggle to reconcile Liam and Theo with LiamandTheo.

[jjsstars]

tw rarepair week 23: day 3, soulmates au cora/scott/lydia

|| for @teenwolfrarepairevents event

|| this is in the same au as this post with bartender!lydia & mechanic!scott

|| tags: soulmates au, bartender!lydia, mechanic!scott, set after canon

Cora takes a second to steady herself once she steps out of the old rusted truck she bought with the little money she saved up, refusing to spend any of Derek’s or Peters. They don’t know she’s coming back to Beacon Hills, nobody does, not that she keeps in touch with anyone but her family but still. She’ll be surprising everyone.

The gas station/mechanic shop/bar she stops at makes her cringe, it’s run down and dusty from the sand under her feet, the sign for the mechanic shop is turned off in the late hour but the bar is still open. Technically all Cora needed was gas but she’s half an hour away from Beacon Hills and unsure if she’s really ready to show up on her brothers door step, she decides getting a drink from the bar will ease her.

Stepping into the bar is announced by a loud squeak of the doors, which catches the attention of the two people inside. The bartender is hard to see behind the guy who’s sat on a bar stool with an empty glass in front of him, they’ve both stopped talking, not turning towards Cora but probably listening to every move she makes. She steps to the bar and slides herself onto a stool despite it, it’s too late in the night to care about strangers judging her.

“What can I get for you—?” The bartenders voice dies with an abrupt suck in of air, Cora’s head lifts to look up and- Lydia Martin?- shit.

“Uh- sorry, uh, what can I get for you?” Lydia throws on a quick smile and tries to act like she doesn’t know who’s sitting in front of her, part of Cora appreciates it, she probably knows Cora’s not supposed to be here.

“Just a soda.” She croaks out before Lydia’s turning on her heels to grab a cup that she quickly fills with sprite, it’s what Cora would’ve ordered but she doesn’t know why or how Lydia would know that.

“Here you go, uh- I- I think Scott recognizes you.” Lydia’s head nods towards the other side of the bar, and sure enough Scott McCall is sitting there, mouth dropped open and eyes wide like he just saw a ghost. Cora could laugh at how he still resembles a puppy dog if she wasn’t halfway mortified that he’s about to call Derek.

“Hi there.” She says with a small quirked brow when Scott’s mouth slams shut and he starts to fumble with the mechanic uniform jacket he has on. Cora glances back to Lydia, she shrugs to say she has no idea what he’s doing either, and just as Cora goes to ask, Scott’s suddenly shoving himself into the seat beside her.

“You’re you- or- I knew that but- but it’s you, both of you.” He rambles and Hale has the sudden realization of what the hell he’s talking about. What they said, what Scott just said, it’s scrawled across her ribs right below what Lydia said. It’s them.

“Look, look.” Her eyes land on Scott’s ribs where he lifts the grease covered tank top he has on, sure enough, it all matches. The same spot and same words.

“Fuck me.” Lydia says in a half laugh as she holds her own shirt up. They all match, the three of them, Cora doesn’t even need to check, she just knows. She’s memorized those words since they appeared on her fifth birthday, she always dreamed about meeting her soulmates. The idea of have two only making her want to meet them more, made her long deeper.

“Wait but I’ve met you two before.” It obviously doesn’t matter but she still has to say it.

“But we’ve never been in the same place all at once.” Scott says with an affirming nod from Lydia that yes, he’s right, Cora smiles with it. She knows Lydia’s a genius of some sort and Scott looking to her makes her heart warm.

“What’re you even doing here?” Shit, she has to say it.

“Uh- I’m going to Derek’s, I left where I was and have kinda been aimlessly driving around. Ended up here.” Maybe it was the universe pulling her towards her soulmates, fate of some type. Maybe it’s not the fucked up early twenties breakdown she thought it was.

“You should come home with us.” Scott jumps to say, that half cracked grin on his face that Cora’s only see in the pictures Derek’s shared with her. There was too much chaos and life or death going on for her to see it in person, till now, it’s definitely better in person.

“You two live together?” They nod.

“We started working here together back when Scott was first bit, now we have an apartment together, it’s in the same building as Derek’s loft.” The redhead summarizes as she pours a drink, presumably for herself since neither Scott or Cora can get drunk.

“Are you dating?” Another nod.

“We figured we’d break up when we finally met our soulmates but it’s you so we don’t have to. And- and we don’t have to start dating right away, there’s a second bedroom in the apartment and it’s there rent free if you want it.” Scott smells of nerves and a small bit of hope, Cora hesitates just a moment but leans to kiss his cheek. His skin warms her lips, she can feel how he smiles with the action and it brings a sense of comfort to her.

“You are very cute. And yes, I will come stay with you guys. The longer I avoid Derek and Peter the better.” She huffs once she pulls back, ignoring that Lydia’s typing away on her phone and might’ve just taken a picture of them.

“Well let’s go, we were supposed to close an hour ago anyways. And we can talk more on the ride home.” Lydia finishes her glass off before flipping the switch to turn off the neon sign that sits above the bar. She takes both Cora and Scott’s hand as they walk out, Cora happily lets her and lets Scott pile them all into Cora’s truck while saying they’ll be back here tomorrow to work anyways so leaving Scott’s car isn’t a big deal.

[cgsf]

Fics Based on a Trope:

Amnesia

°°°°°°

Teen Wolf (TV)

"I know that you love me, even when I lose my head" 🔒 (E) by LunaCanisLupus_22 | Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski | 135,585

"By Any Other Name" (E) by entanglednow | Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski | 33,090

"until we wake" (E) by verity | Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski | 2,375

"If nothing scares you about me and you" (T) by RurouniHime | Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski | 4,975

"in the waiting room" 🔒 (E) by CoraRochester & ravenclawkward | Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski | 29,753

"The Woebegone Kid" (M) by ahab2692 | Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski | 31,000

"Till the Embers Smoke on the Ground" (T) by calrissian18 | Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski | 1,956

"who walks this dusty road" (E) by verity | Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski | 1,984

"every version of me falls in love with you" (T) by stilinskisparkles | Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski | 9,578

"Take Me Back to the Start" (G) by TroubleIWant | Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski | 4,002

"should the pillars of memory topple out of my reach" (T) by bleep0bleep | Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski | 4,391

"Stilinski Exclusive (remember remember)" 🔒 (T) by Jerakeen | Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski | 437

"has time re-written every line" (T) by kellifer_fic | Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski | 14,647

"Our Memories Are Numbered" (E) by rufflefeather | Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski | 23,105

"Black Out Days" 🔒 (T) by Stoney | Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski | 12,985

"Crossfire" (M) by GoddessofBirth | Chris Argent/Peter Hale | 27,823

"Tabula Rasa" (T) by Shey | Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski | 2,825

"The Striking Complication" (T) by aurevell | Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski | 118,704

Men's Hockey (RPF)

"The Scars That Words Have Carved" 🔒 (E) by Linsky | Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews | 15,694

"Muscle Memory" 🔒 (E) by blaahaj | Leon Draisaitl/Matthew Tkachuk | 25,053

"okay, yeah, you caught me" 🔒 (T) by anonymous | Leon Draisaitl/Matthew Tkachuk | 6,034

"a brief, unauthorized guide to tending an exit wound" 🔒 (NR) by stridents | Leon Draisaitl/Connor McDavid | 10,121

"worth waiting for" 🔒 (T) by CanadianAsPuck | Thomas Chabot/Josh Norris | 7,201

"A Fool for Lesser Things" 🔒 (E) by Linsky | Jamie Benn/Tyler Seguin | 11,553

Hannibal (TV)

"If we only ever have one day to live, it would be enough" (T) by RoswellSmokingWoman | Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter | 4,143

"red vase" (M) by boycoffin | Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter | 5,637

"Not Where I Was, Nowhere You Can Find Me" (E) by xzombiexkittenx | Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter | 5,682

"God of the Cold, Cold Wars" (M) by HigherMagic | Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter | 7,260

SKAM France (TV)

“Café Six” (NR) by ronans | Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant | 8,686

"teach me to love just to let me go" (T) by vexedtonightmares | Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant | 31,222

°°°°°°

More to be added.

[triskhellion]

Irie

Rated: Explicit (4.4k)

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Original Characters

Tags: POV Stiles, Getting Together, Jamaica, Gratuitous Nyammin' & Jammin', Patois/Patwah, Explicit Sexual Content, Hickeys, Song Lyrics

Summary: The one where Stiles and Derek go on an errand for Deaton and have some time to kill in Jamaica. They thoroughly enjoy themselves eating, swimming, relaxing, and exploring the island…and then each other.

Soundtrack

Super Blue Moon prompts: Joy, Grain, Red Haze & Summer (Mead Moons prompts: Aphrodisiacs, Claiming, Herbs, Hot & Revelry)

TW Anchor Down (Full Moon Round) prompts: Word - Unstoppable, Phrase - “Grab the bull by its horns," Song - "Feel Good Inc.," Trope - Roommates, Picture - Cove @tw-anchor-down

Usually when Stiles got a message from Deaton about some errand or another it ended up with him and Derek searching for an artifact buried in Back of Everywhere, North Dakota during the dead of winter or rifling through a dusty pile of old papers in a dank, foreboding basement in Romania while being stalked by a cāpcāun or something.

But not this time. For once it appeared they were being sent somewhere warm and sunny in service of the supernatural. They were headed to the Caribbean to fetch half a dozen varieties of rare and apparently invaluable live plants for the druid that needed to be transported carefully under specific conditions once the specimens were ready.

What’s more, because they were on their way back from visiting Cora in Ecuador instead of trekking all the way back to Beacon Hills and then turning around to fly south again at most a week later they were just going straight to Jamaica and would have some time to kill. 

Beverly, an Obeahwoman whose network of multidisciplinary magic practitioners they’d gotten to know during their frequent trips to the Bay Area, lit up with excitement during their video call when she heard they’d be going to the country of her birth. She not only had recommendations for them, but tips and resources as well.

“Look, the big all-inclusive hotels and the curated activities are fun, not gonna lie, but there’s a lot more to the island than what you can find in those expensive, insular spaces if you’re interested in a bit of adventure or some actual peace and quiet,” she told them, dark eyes sparkling.

He and Derek had looked at each other and grinned. On one hand, there was something to be said for lounging around and having a parade of colorful cocktails pass by — he was a year past the drinking age of 18, of course he checked — but on the other, an adventure that didn’t involve something trying to kill them for once or some secluded relaxation would be nice. Plus, he was sure there were lots of other places a bit off the beaten path where he could chill on the beach with a beverage.

And so here they were careening on some winding mountain highway in a van driven by a sprightly 30-something guy sporting sponge twists in a fade named Desmond, or Dezzy, who was apparently a cousin of Bev’s.

“More like ‘Dizzy’,” he whispered to Derek when the way too calm driver, who was currently humming along to “Getaway” by Earth, Wind and Fire, overtook a car on a longer stretch and cheerfully honked the horn, swerving back into the left lane before they could be smashed or knocked off the mountain by an oncoming semi truck. The tires hugged the edge of the road around the next curve and they all leaned to the side.

They’d flown into Montego Bay a couple days before, leaving in the wee hours and arriving in the late morning. They shared a room with two beds as usual while on a job at the guest house Bev hooked them up with. It was in Runaway Bay about a 20 minute walk to beach, which they visited as soon as they’d settled in and got their bearings. If Stiles had his way he’d be wearing one of his two pairs of swim trunks the entire trip.

The owner, Tish, sent them off with a tote bag of sandwiches made from slices of a sweet and spiced brown bread and some salty, tangy, cheddar-based cheese that apparently came from a can. There were also a couple bottles each of grapefruit Ting and D&G kola champagne. They took their bounty and beach supplies down to the white sands and ate in the shade of an almond tree, the gentle, bright blue waves beckoning them. 

Derek didn’t need sunscreen like Stiles did, but he said he found the low level burn before his body healed annoying, so they both applied the SPF 50 lotion afterward, helping with each other’s backs when done with rest of themselves. Stiles tried to distract himself from the expanse of skin and muscle underneath his roaming palms, blushing when he found himself absentmindedly tracing the triskelion between the werewolf’s shoulder blades. He then had to fight to keep from making any noises when it was his turn, deft fingers spreading the goopy substance over him. 

As soon as those warm, massaging hands were removed from his hyper aware body — his, uh, starting to react body — Stiles took off running toward the clear water in an attempt to both hide and dampen the state he was in. Derek was soon chasing after him and he felt a thrill of excitement as he crashed through the warm liquid before being tackled. He came up sputtering and shaking his head, retaliating as soon as he wiped his stinging eyes by kicking water at the smug wolf and getting into an all out splash battle until he tired out.

They floated and swam, goofed around trying to knock each other over, and just hung out semi-crouched in the sea for a while before returning to land, spreading out towels to sit or lie on and air dry in the hot sun. Stiles looked over to see Derek resting prone with his head on his forearms, eyes closed and smiling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the Alpha so at ease and watched him fondly before turning to gaze out at the ships dotting the horizon, fingers trailing through the sand. 

We’ll run away together. We’ll spend some time forever. We’ll never feel bad anymore, flashed through his mind, a relic of summers past.

Heh, if only. Him and Derek? Maybe in another lifetime. Sighing, he pushed the thought away and stretched out on his back, gazing up at the clouds dotting the late afternoon sky.

Stiles was liable to fall asleep right there, but didn’t want to wake up a lobster once the sunscreen stopped being effective, so before he nodded off he poked Derek in the shoulder and suggested either moving back into the shade or heading back to their accommodations. Their hours in the water had worked up an appetite because before the wolf could answer his stomach growled and they both burst out laughing.

Shortly after returning they saw Tish in the side yard picking what looked like bumpy green pinecones from one of the fruit trees. She handed them one to try, a curious fruit with many names. Sweetsop, sugar apple, custard apple, and more. Derek broke it open and the creamy segments of flesh covering black seeds inside were indeed sweet and reminiscent of custard. 

Seeing that they liked it she gave them a couple more and they thanked her, finishing the first one and part of another back in their room.

It was almost dinner time, so they both used the wait to make some phone calls, Stiles to his father and then to Scott in San Diego and Derek to Isaac and Malia to check-in on the pack. If he recalled correctly international calls were around $0.30 cents a minute with his phone plan so he kept each conversation to around 15 minutes knowing he’d probably talk to at least his dad another couple of times. Derek, laconic as usual, had been done with his in a fraction of the time and was reading a novel in Spanish that he picked up in Ecuador by the time he finished.

That evening’s meal was savory brown stew chicken with rice & gungo peas cooked with coconut milk, thyme, and some flavors he enjoyed, but couldn’t quite place. They ended up chatting with Jacob, the cook, when they sat in the courtyard outside the kitchen afterward and he was happy to talk about the food that he and the other staff members prepared. Stiles found that he could mostly understand Patois, or Patwah, at least if he was paying attention and it wasn’t too fast. 

“Dere x-amount ah spice an ‘erb dem, but eff yuh haffi pick tree dat gi yuh dat tayse ah Jamaica? Den mi seh tyme, pimento — wah yuh call allspice — an scotch bonnet peppa a most important. Eff yuh waan mek it four, den skallion fah chuu,” Jacob said, holding up what seemed a cross between a spring and red onion.

That night they turned in early tired out from the long hours of travel and activity and he fell asleep replaying the happiest day he’d had in a long time.

The second morning started with a hearty breakfast of escovitch fish — whole red snapper fried until the skin was crispy and then topped with a vinegary mix of sliced onion, carrot, bell pepper, that ever present fruity and fiery scotch bonnet pepper, and spices — with boiled green banana and circular pieces of a cassava flatbread called bammy. Then it was off to see the sights in Discovery Bay and Ocho Rios. (“Yeah, I’m sending you to some busy tourist destinations tomorrow but they’re popular for a reason,” Bev told them yesterday.)

They explored the Green Grotto Caves first, entertained by the guide explaining its history and about the animals that lived there. The underground lake was really cool and swimming was allowed up above so of course they took a dip in the brilliant aquamarine water. Next came a scenic drive through Fern Gully and then they arrived at Dunn’s River Falls. 

Derek had no problem climbing up the tiers of limestone barefoot, saving Stiles from injury on multiple occasions despite him wearing the silly water shoes. Indignity and near-braining aside, it was fun and the view beautiful. Every so often they would stop to wade or sit in one of the pools, the cold water from the mountains feeling good after the exertion on the sweltering day. After reaching the top and walking down the hill they hung out on the beach where the river emptied into the warm Atlantic. 

We ready for the road!

Now it was their third day on the island and they were on the way to Portland Parish. After a couple hours the van stopped by one of the ubiquitous stands by the road with grills made from halved oil barrels. They climbed out to stretch their legs and he watched as Derek closed his eyes and inhaled the intriguing scents carried by the smoke. 

“Time fi nyam pon jerk, mi yutes,” Dezzy said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. 

He ordered for the three of them and Derek insisted on paying. A platter of jerk chicken and pork and one with long, fried cornmeal dumplings and thick slices of dense bread were soon placed on their table along with 3 chilled green coconuts with straws poking out from the chopped open tops. Each of them were lost in their own little worlds as the combinations of flavors exploding on their tongues, the doubly hot, spiced meats cut with the lightly sweet carbs and washed down with the refreshing coconut water. Dezzy recommended saving the drained fruit for scooping out later.

Then they were back on the road again, the two of them dropped off at another guest house around an hour later, this one right off a beach near Fairy Hill. It belonged to another acquaintance of Bev’s, a friend of a friend or a friend of a cousin or something. Dezzy was staying with relatives nearby and told them to give him a call when they wanted a ride somewhere. They checked in at the reception area and were shown to a cozy, standalone single room dwelling.

Once again they went swimming right away and then ended up joining an impromptu volleyball match and tossing a frisbee around with a group of local and American youths that were staying there with their folks ahead of attending a big family reunion. Afterward they went for a walk to check out the neighborhood, stopping in at an outdoor bar and restaurant called Spinnaz. 

“Siddung likkle bit, nuh,” called a server mixing up a fruit filled concoction while they were standing back reading the menu board. She gestured at a couple empty seats and they sat down at the bar to finish deciding what to try.

Bottles of Red Stripe beer in hand a few minutes later, they leaned back and watched the other patrons socialize and dance, enjoying the light breeze. A fast tempoed number backed by a drum machine and horns came on and got most of the guests on their feet, hips swinging left, right, backward and forward increasingly fast with the lyrics.

Cent, five cent, ten cent, dollar. 

When it came time for the “big money wine” the crowd went wild shaking and gyrating. 

Stiles was itching to move, but he felt too self-conscious/sober to join in, so he just worked his shoulders in his seat, swaying and tapping his fingers on the counter behind him and his feet on the footrest of the high-backed swivel stool. 

Several tracks later a distinctive cackling marked the beginning of “Feel Good, Inc.” as Derek ordered another round of drinks, this time house made ginger beer with glasses of amber Appleton Estate rum on the side. He was nodding along with the beat when a platter of garlic butter shrimp and lobster with more of those fried cornmeal dumplings, festival,  arrived for them to share.

Afterward they ambled around some more, passing by various shops and vendors. Stiles bought a green shirt shirt that said “Who cyaan ‘ear, muss feel” in white letters with a stylized donkey on it and Derek got a gorgeous mahogany leather wallet engraved on the front with an anchor in the center and ferns and hibiscus flowers around the edges. Lastly, on the way back they stopped where a man was selling cut and peeled pieces of sugar cane on the side of the road. 

“Of course you would buy a cup of straight sugar,” Derek teased as they continued on.

“Hey, it’s bi sugar because I’m eating it,” he replied, taking the stick he’d been chewing on out of his mouth. “And anyway, this is unrefined from a plant. Plants are healthy, I don’t make the rules.” 

Derek snorted and shook his head, but grabbed one of the sticks himself. 

Huh, maybe the werewolf wasn’t as immune to the sun as he thought. He looked a little red.

Back in their room he set the rest on the table for later and then flopped onto his bed, turning on the satellite tv and flipping through channels as Derek sat up on his and found where he left off in his book. They went out again in time to watch the sun start its descent over the ocean. 

A couple colorful boots were now pulled up a ways down the beach and they walked over when a person standing next to one of them called out and appeared to wave at them. There were three men who looked to be in their early 40s, two with close-cropped hair — a short, stocky guy named Joseph and a taller, leaner man called Leslie — and another tall guy, slender with fine, tied back shoulder length braids who introduced himself as Malcolm and asked if he and Derek were interested in buying dinner. They were.

The fishermen had an ancient boombox going and Leslie was tending a makeshift grill as Malcolm scaled a variety of freshly caught fish and handed them to Joseph to clean. Closer up Stiles could see the boats were held in the shallows with anchors that were hunks of metal which looked like wheels with extended spokes. He shuddered at the thought of accidentally running into one of those.

In no time at all the prepared fish were on a piece of wire fencing over the small wood fire, a pot of mysterious contents bubbling on top of stones off to one side as well. Leslie explained that this type of grilled fish was called “bun finga” because digging into it shortly after it was done as people were wont to do would indeed burn your fingers and they laughed. 

Unlike most dishes which were generously seasoned this had only the salt of the sea and the smoke and char from the fire along with the oil of the skin itself for flavor, but that alone was enough to make it taste amazing and he experienced the accuracy of the name himself. Stiles soon noticed that the men were eating something else from the pot for their own meal and inquired about it.

“Mannish Waata soup,” replied Leslie.

“Yuh waan try?” asked Joseph with raised eyebrows. A sucking, kissing sound came from the right. 

“Mi tink him cyaan handle,” Malcolm said with a mischievous grin.

Stiles huffed and grinned back, not one to back down from a challenge.  

“Yeah, I’ll try it.”

Joseph filled up a cup and then offered one to Derek as well with plastic spoons.

“How much do we owe you for these?” the curious werewolf asked, sniffing the contents.

“Nuttin,” answered Malcolm. 

“Dis wan pon wi,” added Leslie watching Stiles with anticipatory amusement.

Cautiously, he blew on a spoonful and then tasted it, his eyes widening. He took a few more bites, trying to discern what type of meat was in it. Definitely not fish or chicken or pork, but he didn’t think it was beef either. The flavors were strong and there were some odd chewy bits, but it was pretty good, the spice making him break out in a sweat. There were chunks of various root vegetables, dumplings, and what turned out to be slices of green banana with the skin on as well. 

Near the bottom he bit into a piece of hot pepper and started coughing, flapping a hand uselessly and trying to wash it down with the rest of the warm broth. Joseph handed him a cold bottle of water from a cooler and he all but ripped it open, gulping down over half the contents in seconds.

“Thanks” he croaked as Derek and the fishermen laughed.

He wasn’t the only one feeling the burn though because after finishing his portion the werewolf stripped off his shirt and dashed into the water to cool down. Stiles was content to stay on the beach with another bottle of water, enjoying listening to the men razzing each other as they started gathering up their things and also the music coming from the crackling radio. As Derek stood up and started walking out of the waves a woman’s voice sang “Laaawwwd, ‘av is mercy!” and Stiles had to agree because goddamn. 

Realizing his eyes were lingering on the Alpha’s swoon worthy form he quickly looked away and started getting their leftovers and towels together. They said goodbye to Leslie, Joseph, and Malcolm and walked back toward the guest house looking around at the red haze now making the whole sky seem to glow. Stiles suggested a detour around the property before returning to their little studio to check out some of the other buildings. They passed by a shaded lounge area with hammocks that he made a mental note to revisit another time.

Over a dozen people were in the dining room when they peeked inside, background music flowing from the speakers on stands on either side.

I’m trying to change the rules, you deserve something good in your life. We’ve waited for far too long, so come get your blessing tonight, baby.

They strolled through a tropical garden with a little bridge over a koi pond and then circled back around toward the rooms and apartments. 

Still feeling peckish they set upon their leftovers after a short blast in the microwave and washed it down with glass bottles of pineapple soda from the mini fridge. He watched Derek demolish his portion making little growly noises that managed to be adorable while also seriously turning him on.  

Stiles tried to put the kibosh on that train of thought and turned his attention back to his own food, pulling apart the savory morsels and licking his fingers clean. When he glanced up again Derek was staring at him, his eyes glowing red. Stiles swallowed and the wolf’s gaze dropped to his throat and then up again when he deliberately brought his fingers back to his mouth, maintaining eye contact. The moment stretched and grew taut. 

Feeling brave he tipped his head up and bared his throat in invitation and Derek sprang up from the other bed and stalked over. A hand burrowed into his hair as the werewolf leaned down to claim his mouth, the kiss flavored salty and sweet. It took a long time to get here, but now that the dam had broken the desire thrumming between them felt unstoppable.

When they broke apart, Stiles knew exactly what he wanted and just needed a few moments to work up the courage. It was time to grab the bull by its horns, or rather the wolf by the hips. 

With his fingers gripping the waistbands of Derek’s trunks he looked up for permission. At the sharp nod of his head Stiles tugged them down and was met with the Alpha’s swiftly rising and hardening cock. 

He’d seen Derek naked before, but this was the first time seeing him with an erection and it was both tantalizing and intimidating. A chuckle snapped him out of his mesmerized state and he grasped the thick shaft after spitting in his palm. Stiles kissed the head, licking over the slit, and then drew him into his mouth. He worked his hand at the base while he bobbed and sucked, lips straining around the hard member as Derek caressed his head and alternated between murmured words of filth and praise.

He did his best to swallow when the Alpha came, spurting copious amounts of cum onto his tongue and then pulling out to mark his face and throat as well. It was hotter than it had any right to be, even better than he’d imagined, and he felt proud to have brought the not-so-unattainable-after-all wolf off. Derek grasped Stiles by the chin and swiped his thumb across a messy cheek, sliding the coated digit past friction plumped lips for him to suck. 

“So perfect for me,” he growled. Stiles went to touch himself, but the now sharp-fanged werewolf caught his hand. “Let me.” 

At Derek’s urging, Stiles crawled backwards further up the bed and then turned over onto his stomach, all but vibrating with want. His shorts were pulled off and he felt those strong, warm hands on him again, this time palming his ass and then spreading him open for the Alpha’s viewing pleasure. 

Blushing, he looked over his shoulder to see Derek breathing heavily and staring red eyed like he couldn’t wait to devour him.

“Please…anything,” he whispered. The next thing he knew a tongue was licking over and pressing against his hole and he gripped the comforter below him, crying out . Soon he was rubbing himself on the bed and then pushing back wantonly, eliciting a pleased rumble from the wolf.

Stiles whined when Derek pulled away a minute later, but then he was being flipped onto his back, the complementary bottle of cocoa butter lotion tossed down beside him. Crawling onto the bed and taking hold of his cock, Derek mouthed at the tip before sinking down on him, tonguing the underside of his shaft on the upstroke. In between his own babbling moans Stiles heard a cap being flicked open and then cool, viscous liquid was being squeezed onto his thigh.

Derek ran his hand through the fragrant dollop and then a slippery finger began teasing his entrance. Slowly, it pressed in and starting pumping to target his prostate, joined by a second one once he relaxed at the intrusion. He’d done it himself occasionally, but it was definitely better when it was someone else, holy fuck. The twin pleasures of hand and mouth reduced him to a mewling mess and he orgasmed faster than he would’ve liked gasping Derek’s name. 

The wolf had no complaints though it seemed, cleaning his sensitive cock and then nuzzling into his belly and trailing kisses down his inner thighs. Stiles made grabby hands at him, but Derek evaded them, skipping away with a laugh. He returned a couple minutes later with warm, damp cloths and gently wiped over his face and between his legs before climbing beside him and pulling him close.

Of course Stiles couldn’t stay quiet for long.

“Sooo…that just happened.” 

The expression on Derek’s face said “No shit, Sherlock,” his eyebrows raised and scrunched together. Stiles fidgeted and looked back at him again. 

“And, um, it’s a thing we do now?” he asked hopefully.

“Mmm…yes,” Derek replied, reaching down to pinch his ass with a smirk. He did not squeak, dammit!

“Cool.” Looking away and taking a long, slow breath he attempted to quell his internal flailing. Act normal! “So, just for funsies or—“ 

“No.” 

Stiles found himself being thoroughly kissed and then manhandled until he was facing away from the Alpha, but wrapped firmly in his embrace. He’d been little spoon’d! 

Before he could lodge a formal complaint with Boyfriend Services (omg, were they boyfriends?!) a hand covered his opening mouth. 

“Go to sleep,” Derek ordered. Stiles stubbornly dropped his jaw and caught his pinky finger, sucking it and rubbing back against the other man’s crotch. A low rumbling vibrated against his back and the arms around him tightened. Warm breath tickled his ear lobe before it was nipped. “The sooner we sleep, the sooner I’ll wake up and fuck you,” Derek promised huskily. 

Stiles made a frankly ridiculous high-pitched sound. He would be more embarrassed, but apparently Derek liked his weird noises if the way the werewolf was now doing a convincing lamprey impression on his neck was any sign, so that was okay. He closed his eyes and focused on the thrilling sensation, sighing when Derek released his tender skin. 

Everything was okay. Way better than okay. 

Irie.

[babeyvenus]

My Future

Derek Hale x OC

Samantha, Stiles and Scott are always joking about the impossible. Who wouldn't when your best friend's dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills? All jokes stop when they realize the impossible is indeed possible.

Chapter 62: Desperation

Opening his eyes to a dimmed area, Stiles saw that he was in the waiting area of a train station. Sitting up, he saw two women and a lawyer next to him before glancing at the Arrivals and Departures board, taking note of the names of towns that were listed as well as a ticket booth.

He felt unsettled. Why was this place so…quiet? It was eerily quiet. He would've welcomed someone having a conversation, even if it was something he wasn't interested in.

Anything but the cold silence.

Stiles sat back in his seat, frowning as he dug into his pocket, his cold hand warming up to his pocketed keys. 

He turned to the doctor. "Excuse me," he whispered, grimacing a bit as she slowly turned to him. "Sorry, where are we?"

"We're at the train station.", she said. He frowned.

"Right. Okay. Helpful.", Stiles nodded sarcastically, and cleared his throat. "Which train station exactly?"

She turned, looking at the Arrivals and Departures board. "Train station number 137."

Stiles looked at the board as well, then turned back to the lady. "Did you see me come in?", he asked.

"No.", the lady said. Weird. 

"How long have you been here?", he asked.

"Maybe an hour?", she replied, nonchalantly.

On the other side of her, the lawyer spoke up, reading his newspaper. "We got here at the same time.", he said before glancing at Stiles. "It's been at least six hours."

Stiles' eyes widened a bit. "Six hours?", he asked. The man nodded, returning to his newspaper.

Stiles frowned. Six hours…? What train takes six hours to arrive and depart?

He shook his head before talking to the woman again. "Where are you goin'?"

The lady froze, unsure of her answer before patting herself down on her white coat. "Um. I-I had a ticket with me somewhere." She frowned as she continued searching. "Um…"

"You always travel in your work clothes?", Stiles asked.

"I must have been in a rush.", she said.

Stiles frowned and looked at the ticket booth before standing and walked over to it.

He looked at the dusty, dirty desk, shocked at how dirty it was. He slid his fingers on the desk, the pads of his fingers immediately collected the dust. "Do you know if anyone works here?", he asked.

Before he could get an official answer, a speaker came on, catching the attention of the passengers. "The following stops have been canceled. Hollatine, Batten, Bay Burry, Deer Ridge, Red Oak… Trenton, Anderson, King Springs."

People started standing up from their seats, walking over to the darkened tunnel. Stiles, interested, moved over to the readying passengers. "Excuse me, where are those trains going?", he asked.

No one answered. What the hell is wrong with these people…?

What was up with the trains?

Where were those places?

He continued searching for an answer and became impatient to the people who ignored him "Does anyone know where this train's going?!", he exclaimed.

He sighed, irritated as he looked up at a sign that said, "To Trains". A little hope sparked in Stiles as he was ready to leave the place and find his way back if he had to.

Wind began to blow and leaves picked up, being carried through the air. He frowned as he heard a horse neighing from the tunnel.

People started pushing back the others behind them, making way for the Ghost Riders and their horses. They hid down by the benches in fear.

Stiles, confused and worried, only backs away. A Ghost Rider rode up, holding his whip and assaulted a man's face with a crack, making him fall down.

The Stilinski boy could only watch as two more showed up, dropping off a man and saw as the rope around his hands and feet had disappeared in a puff of green smoke.

Once three more Ghost Riders arrive, Stiles finally moved away to hide before he was next, only to feel someone grab him, spun him around and pushed his back up against a pillar.

Groaning, he looked up at whoever was holding him to send a complaint, only to stop short in shock once he saw who it was.

The eldest Hale, however, couldn't return the same sentiment. "It just had to be you.", he said, annoyed.

The two watched as the horses neighed and guided their riders back down the tunnel, making each passenger sigh with relief, nonchalantly returning to their seats.

Peter followed suit, walking over to his bench with Stiles right behind him. "Peter? Peter, what are you doing here?", Stiles asked. Peter turned around to face him with a frown once he found his seat. 

"How are you here?", Stiles asked. 

"What do you mean, how am I here? I'm here. You're here. We are all here. Now, get the hell away from me, Stiles.", Peter grumbled, sitting down.

Stiles sighed and shook his head as he looked at the other passengers before looking at Peter who's expression matched the others in the room.

"Hey, Peter. Peter." He snapped his fingers. "Peter!" Peter's eyes stared up at the boy. "What are you doing?", Stiles asked.

"I'm waiting for my train.", Peter simply responded.

"Okay, did you not just see that?", Stiles asked. 

"See what?", Peter asked, making Stiles frown in confusion. What the hell was happening? Did he not just save him? 

"The horses, the hogtied businessman with the magically dissolving ropes?", Stiles listed, making Peter's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Stiles, quickly frustrated, turns to the other passengers. "I'm sorry, did anyone just see that!?"

The others gave Stiles a weird look before returning to what they were doing, which wasn't much. It bothered him. Why was no one bothered by what just happened?

"Do you mind?", Peter asked the boy. "You're blocking the board." He nodded towards the Arrivals and Departures board. "I'd like a little warning before my train arrives."

Stiles frowned as he looked at the man. "Okay. So you're waiting for a train. How did you get here?"

"Pretty sure I took a cab.", Peter responded.

"Last time I saw, you were being locked away in Eichen House.", Stiles said. Peter frowned, blinking as he realized.

"I was in Eichen.", Peter muttered, looking up at him. "Thanks to you."

"Memory's good.", Stiles said. "Can you remember how you, uh, got out? They discharge you?"

"No, the power went out. And I ran like hell.", Peter explained.

Stiles eyebrows furrowed. "That's it? You just ran?"

"Yes, that's it. I literally just ran away from the insane asylum that was holding me hostage!", Peter said. "Until I came home with Derek and after the whole thing with Samantha's family, it was raining one day… and this horseman appeared in front of me."

The eldest Hale's eyes widened. "I got shot.", he recalled, making Stiles' eyes widen.

Peter suddenly got up, pacing back and forth. Stiles took his place on Peter's seat.

He glanced at the ticket booth, the Arrivals and Departures board, before looking at Peter again. "How long have I been here?", Peter asked him.

"We saw you three months ago.", Stiles said.

Peter nodded. "Yes, but I saw Samantha…after she and her father and brother met. She had a nosebleed and–" He suddenly gaped at Stiles. "I've been missing for three months and no one came for me?"

Stiles held his hands up in surrender. "We assumed you didn't want to be bothered with Sam's family mess.", he said, making the man frown. "But that's what the Ghost Riders do, they erase you."

"Ghost Riders?", Peter asked. "Ghost Riders of the Wild Hunt?"

"Yeah, you know what I'm talking about?", Stiles asked, eyes wide.

Peter sighed, sitting down at the bench on the opposite side of Stiles. "Of course, I know what you're talking about. They ride the lightning. They are an unstoppable force of nature, but, I promise you, they don't make pit-stops in train stations."

He glanced over at the old lady that sat on Stiles's bench, watching as she gave him her best sultry smile.

Peter grimaced and shrugged before looking at Stiles. "I've escaped one prison only to land in another one. And this looks like the underground lair of a depressed bureaucrat.", he mumbled, glancing around.

"Come on, there's gotta be a way out of this place, right?" Stiles started up. "Have you tried looking around? Have you talked to anyone who knows anything?"

"If this is the Wild Hunt, there is no escape. You and I are doomed to ride the storm...forever.", Peter said.

"Yeah, we're not in the storm," Stiles stood up, walking towards him. "We're in a train station. But we can get out of a train station."

"We can't get out of here, Stiles. Because this place isn't real.", Peter countered.

Stiles looked at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Peter huffed. "Beacon Hills doesn't have a train station."

Stiles frowned before looking at the doors that were locked over near the corner where the ticket booth stood.

Shaking his head, he walked over to the doors, immediately tugging at the locks. Peter got up, followed after him and watched him. "What are you doing?"

Stiles glanced back at him. "Little help, please?", he asked, frowning at the man.

Peter rolled his eyes and got up. As he moved to the door, he grabbed the lock, and yanked it, destroying the chains.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Okay."

He opened the doors, and ran through, confused as he was transported from the door that was near the tunnel.

Peter noticed him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as well. "What the hell?" Stiles mumbled to himself, running back through the door and did it again, and again.

Panting, he thought of doing it once more, frowning at Peter's slight amusement.

"No, no, no, keep going.", Peter nodded to him.

Stiles snapped at him. "I don't see you comin' up with anything."

"Stiles.", Peter frowned as he caught a sight from the corner of his eye. The entire time Stiles was running around, he'd noticed a boy staring at the two.

He whispered. "Left shoulder, against the pillar. Don't look.", Peter advised. Much to his disappointment, Stiles did the opposite, seeing a blurry boy. "I said don't look.", Peter sighed.

"Yeah.", Stiles mumbled.

Peter looked at Stiles. "He's watching us."

"Yeah, so?"

"So… every person in this station is either comatose or catatonic. He seems very interested in keeping an eye on us.", Peter informed and nodded his head in that direction.

Stiles turned his head, looking back at the boy who was still watching and stormed over to him. The boy ducked behind the pillar. "Hey!", Stiles called, going the other way.

The boy looked over to see Stiles, only to get stopped by Peter, startling Stiles. "Oh, my god!", Stiles choked, flinching and settled down knowing who it was.

"Why are you watching us?", Peter glared at the boy.

"You tried the doors.", he chuckled. "Nobody ever tries the doors."

"Sounds like you have.", Stiles said.

"The ones that I could open. I've tried everything else.", the boy replied.

"Not everything.", Peter said. "You're still here."

"Yeah, it seems like you got some kind of a plan.", Stiles said. "So why don't you tell us about it?"

The boy scoffed. "I can tell you. Doesn't mean you can do it." 

Stiles chuckled, nodding. "Oh, we can do it." He paused, hinting at Peter. "He can, he can do it…"

"Well, it's right in front of your face." The boy explained and both Peter and Stiles faced the black void on the tunnel's archway. "You didn't see it, did you?"

"I saw it.", Stiles declared.

"Then why'd you waste so much time running through the doors?", the boy asked. "I'll tell you why. Because it's all part of the illusion. You're afraid. And they want you to be afraid."

"I'm not afraid.", Peter said and headed for the tunnel. He got closer until he started to slow down, hesitant.

The boy lightly smirked. "Can't do it, can you?" He glanced up and over at Stiles. "He can't do it."

"We really should kill him.", Peter said to Stiles.

"Or you can just walk through it.", Stiles suggested, walking towards him.

Peter let out a heavy breath, readying himself. 'Push me.", he tells Stiles.

"What did you say?", Stiles asked, eyebrows furrowed. "Push me!", Peter exclaimed.

Stiles, confused, held onto Peter's back, and shoved Peter through. Peter stumbled over his feet, but stopped and glanced around.

"Now you're gettin' it.", The boy smiled widely, heading off into the tunnel.

Peter glanced back at Stiles. "Stiles. Stiles, let's go.", Peter ordered.

Stiles didn't move. Instead, he stared into the dark tunnel and sighed. Peter frowned, and grabbed Stiles by the shirt and pulled him into the darkness with him.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Groaning softly, Sam woke up to the sound of loud beeping. Looking up, she sees the ceiling of a car. Her eyes widened as she sat up from the reclined seat.

She was inside the jeep? How? Aside from that, she saw a man hooking a latch onto the Jeep's bumper and she quickly pressed the horn, scaring the man.

Once he saw Sam, he let out a relieved sigh. "Christ–"

"What're you doing to the Jeep?", Sam asked. 

"Taking it to the Pound. What're you doing inside it?", he asked. Sam glared at the man, and pulled out a set of keys, hoping he'd take the hint.

Before the man could say anything, Lydia stormed up to the man. "Hey!", she called. "You can't tow this Jeep."

"Paperwork says I can.", the man said, glancing down at his clipboard. "It's reported as abandoned."

"Does it look abandoned to you?", Sam yelled, shocking Lydia.

Lydia placed her hand on the hood, turning to the man. "It's not."

He looked at her. "Oh, so this is your vehicle?"

Lydia tilted her head a bit. "Does it matter?"

He scoffed. "Sounds like a no."

Scott ran up, suddenly. He panted, walking over to the driver's side of the jeep. "It's mine. Uh, my Jeep. Thank you. I'll move it. Once I get the keys.", he glanced into the windshield at Sam with raised eyebrows.

The guy shrugged. "I'm sorry, once it's on the hook…"

"Please don't say, 'you're on the hook".", Lydia frowned, unamused.

"Well, I can't now." The man was about to leave and Sam frowned.

Scott stopped the guy. "O-Okay," He started. "Look, there's gotta be something that we can do. Sign something? Call someone?"

"Pay someone?", Lydia added, opening her purse. The man grinned. "Drop fee's a hundred and fifty. Cash."

Lydia pulled out her money and Scott's jaw dropped, sputtering in disbelief. "A hundred and fifty?"

He looked at the jeep. "This thing isn't even worth that much."

Sam frowned at the boy. "Watch it, McCall!" Scott's eyes widened at Sam. "Come on, Scott," Lydia fussed. "How much you got?"

His eyes widened at her. "Uh, how much have you got?", he asked, sticking his hand into his back pocket. 

"Just give me your money.", she hissed. Scott sighed, and took out a small wad, counting it. "All I have is $50. And when I say 'all' I mean all."

Lydia took the money with her $100, handing it to the guy and he happily took it, unhooking the Jeep and headed up into his truck lifting up the platform in the back and finally left.

Scott glanced at Sam. "How the hell did you even get in?"

"Did… Did you sleep in the Jeep?", he asked, as she opened the door, keeping one door unlocked.

"I don't remember even getting in…", Sam said. Scott placed his hands on the girl's shoulders. "Why'd you save the Jeep?", Scott asked.

"Because it's not just a Jeep.", she said. "It's Roscoe."

"Roscoe?", Lydia asked.

"Yeah.", Sam nodded. 

"Okay so, why save Roscoe the Jeep?", Scott asked.

"Because I remember it. And, I remember someone always taking care of it. Plus, it just appeared out of nowhere when I was just walking around.", Sam said.

"Made it appear? Made it appear…", Lydia whispered, her eyes widened in realization. "Like how Corey made the Library key card appear even though it was invisible?", she asked, making Scott look at her in realization as well. "And how he made the Ghost Rider at the party appear.", Scott added.

Sam looked at the jeep. "I don't know how, or what I did, but it's here.", she frowned. "I just was so upset and wanted to find Stiles. I felt like I was alone in this, so I did some pacing and found myself in front of it."

She looked at them. "I think I remember being tired, but I don't remember getting in the jeep."

"Okay, but why Roscoe?", Scott asked, finding the name weird.

"I don't know. I just know that that's what it was called.", Sam said.

She looks at them. "I think this is another relic."

However, on the underside of their world, Stiles, Peter and Trent walked further into the tunnel. It didn't make sense. If there wasn't a train for Beacon Hills, why were they there to begin with? Why them?

His thoughts paused as they came up into another part of a train station.

"Congratulations," Peter muttered. "You found another part of the phantom train station."

Stiles kept walking. "Is this the way out?"

"If it was, we would be leaving.", Peter said, annoyed. Trent stopped them. "Thanks for your input." He looked back at him.

"We're trying to get out here and go back to our home and people who need us. At least I am.", Stiles said. 

"By that, you mean back to your ridiculous friends?", Peter asked. "This would be easier if Sam were here. She could probably detect us in the dark and bring us back.", Stiles muttered. 

"Sam?", the boy asked. "Sam Wilson?", he asked, looking at Stiles who looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

"So, you're Stiles.", he said. 

"How do you know about her?", Stiles asked, frowning. "She's about this tall," Trent lifts his hand a little by his head, "Puffy hair?"

Stiles nodded. "I saw her.", the passenger said. "She can see the people in here. Most of them are already called for death. I'm pretty sure I'm on my way too."

Stiles and Peter looked at each other in shock before looking at the boy. "Where'd you see her?", Stiles asked. "In a house. She was with another girl. Lydia, is it?"

Stiles' eyes widened. They were still friends…. Thank God. "What house? Who else were they with?", he asked.

Trent shrugged. "Some woman. But she's dead. How Lydia was able to see her is beyond me.", he said, moving away from the tracks.

"You might want to stay off the tracks. 'Cause that's the way in and out." He pointed down at the end of the tunnel where it's doused in darkness. Stiles and Peter nodded, getting up on the platform.

"So, what, we're dying?", Stiles asked. "That's why we're in this station?"

"Yes.", the boy said. "Okay so, how were you able to be seen by Sam? D-Did you talk to her? Anything?", Stiles asked.

"I talked to her and I was actually able to speak, but–" Stiles cut him off. "What did you say?"

"I told her that whatever that she was looking for was right in front of her face.", he said. "And before I could get anything else, I got interrupted by a woman. A dead woman."

Stiles frowned, eyebrows furrowed. "A dead — a dead woman?"

The boy nodded. "What do you mean?", Stiles asked, watching as the boy's behavior suddenly got desperate. 

"They're coming.", he says, making them aware of the horses' neighing.

Trent ran over behind a pillar to hide himself, making  Stiles and Peter do the same as they watched at the end of the tunnel burst into green smoke.

In came a Ghost Rider with two more riding behind the first. The horses galloped down the tracks into the darkness of the other end of the track.

Sighing out of relief, the three moved from behind their pillars. "That's the way out?" Peter pointed to the entrance where the riders appeared. Trent gulped, nodding. "How in the hell are we supposed to do that?", Peter asked.

"We jump.", Trent said.

"Jump?", Peter looked at him with wide eyes.

"On the back of the riders as they go through.", Trent explained, quickly.

"Is that all?"

"I've been timing it.", Trent said, looking at Peter. "Look, we can jump from here just before they go out."

"I think you're confusing your pronouns. We aren't going to do anything.", Peter said, swinging a finger between Stiles and him. "But you should absolutely give that a shot."

"Do you not wanna get out of here?", Trent asked, frustrated. "We want to get out alive, okay? How do you know this works? Seems like a lot could go wrong.", Stiles said.

"Look, I can't stay here. I'm losing my mind in this place.", Trent's voice desperate.

"I think you have an excellent grasp of the situation. I say go for it.", Peter said.

Stiles frowned at the man. "Peter." 

The horses neighed in the distance once more. Trent tapped Stiles's shoulder. "Hey, they're coming back."

Peter and Stiles got behind one pillar and Trent got behind another, waiting. 

Peter looked around the corner and Stiles nudged him. "No, we can't let him do this, right?"

"What if he's right?", Peter asked.

"Hey, we'll figure something else out.", Stiles said.

He turned to Trent, sure that there was another way. It had to be… "Hey, look, there's gotta be another way out of this place."

"But there isn't.", Trent shook his head. "I've been looking for months. Are you comin' or not?"

"It's all you.", Peter said, stepping away as the  Ghost Riders passed him and Stiles. Trent readied himself up just before Stiles tried to run for him only for Peter to stop Stiles, pulling him back. "Let him try.", Peter said.

They watched Trent take off running and jumped onto the back of the horse, struggling to stay onto the Ghost Rider as they kept on riding towards the invisible portal. "Come on, come on.", Peter whispered, nervous.

Trent was close enough until it was his and the other Ghost Rider's turn. The horse traveled through as well as the Ghost Rider did.

However, the portal reflected him off of the rider like a mountain ash barrier, throwing him on his back.

Before Peter or Stiles could say anything, Trent's pain-filled screams shocked them into silence as they watched him be swallowed by green like fire, burning his body into ash, only leaving behind a skeleton.

"Somehow I don't think that went the way that he was hoping.", Peter said letting out a soft breath.

"No, wait." Stiles shook his head, jumping off of the platform, and ran over to Trent's skeleton. "Stiles, he's dead. You see his face? Trust me, he's gone.", Peter emphasized.

Stiles said, frustrated. "You knew he'd die."

"I didn't know. I mean, I assumed.", Peter said with a shrug.

"Yeah," Stiles turned to Peter. "But you could have warned him."

"He was gonna do it anyway. Now, we know.", Peter said, exasperated.

"Know what?", Stiles asked.

"That we're stuck.", Peter declared, jumping down and walked towards Stiles. "It's over. We are trapped because that was our only way out."

"Or that's just what they want us to believe.", Stiles said, still feeling hopeful. 

Peter looked at him as if he'd grown another head. "What?", Peter growled. "What is it with you teenagers? You think that you're so special? You think the rules don't apply to you? Do you get it? We are dead and buried."

Stiles watched as Peter dug into his pocket, grabbing his wallet. Peter opened it up, grabbing the few bills Stiles had in there. "Money? It's worthless." He let them drop to the floor before Stiles could reach for them.

"Driver's license? Credit cards?", Peter took them out, tossing them onto the tracks. Stiles tried to grab his things. "Give me my damn wallet back.", Stiles said under his breath, getting upset.

"It's all meaningless.", Peter said and threw the wallet onto the ground and saw Stiles's keys to his Jeep in his pocket, grabbing those. "Keys?"

"Give me my keys.", Stiles frowned, panting. Peter tossed them up onto the platform. Stiles glared at Peter, his eyes glossing.

What was up with Peter's defeat? If he wasn't persistent, he wasn't Peter. He knew that. Peter wasn't a liar. Deceiving, yes, but dishonest?

He must really feel defeated.

"What, did you think you were gonna drive us out of here? Is that what you thought? Do you get it? We don't exist. And we are already forgotten.", Peter said.

"Somebody's gonna remember me.", Stiles determined.

Peter frowned at him, pulling out a picture of the 5 teens sitting on a bench. "This? This was already gone. It's not going to matter.", he said, throwing the picture down.

Stiles scrambled to catch the picture, holding it in a tight hand.

"Lydia, or Scott, Malia, Sam. They're gonna find me, all right? They'll come for me.", he stood, glaring at Peter. "But who would ever come for you?"

Peter slowly nodded at him. "You give me a call when your high school sweethearts conjure up a plan to get out of here.", he said before storming off. 

Stiles frowned, looking at the picture in his hand.

Looking at his forever growing adoration, his eyes glistened. He spent his last days in his jeep with her.

He had finally said 'I love you'. Not that he was in love with her, but a full on confession. Not just out of desperation and fear, but out of honesty. He wanted her to know. He always did.

He looked at his best friend. Though the two butted heads, that was his brother at the end of the day and he hoped Scott knew that. He wanted him to know that.

He looked at his previous lover, someone he'd help become docile. Human, once more. He believed in her. He wanted her to have a life outside of being a coyote and all though it took some time, it was worth it.

Though they didn't have the best ending, he still cared. He never stopped.

Lastly, his first friend. The girl that never failed to make him smile. The one that accepted all his shenanigans and even joined in them. He couldn't bear the thought of her forgetting him. Not after what she said.

She was the sister he never asked for, but welcomed all the same. She was his Mother Hen when her mom or Melissa wasn't able to be. He'd never ask for anything more if he could just hear her say how clumsy he was or how stupid he was to give up.

She'd fight to make sure everything was okay again.

And that's what he was gonna do. With or without Peter's help. He placed the picture into his plaid shirt's pocket, gathering his things before leaving the tracks.

[whiskeysmulti]

[PRIDE ASKS] 3, 7, 12. 19, 25

Pride asks for fun:- accepting!

.Whiskey.

3. Which pronouns do you use? I use any actually. But if you're asking if I have a preference, they/them usually. But I'm also fine with he or she or bro or sis or whatever. I'm really chill about it and sometimes, I fluctuate on how heavily I lean masc or fem, so don't be afraid to use any of them with me, but if you're ever unsure stick to they/them, it's a set I always accept. 7. Are you the "token" queer person in your family? Depends on the side of the family? On my father's side (the side that pretty much has nothing to do with me except one uncle who cares enough to check in and visit once in a while) I have several cousins on the LGBT spectrum. My biological mother's side though yeah, I'm the token queer. Step-mom's side I'm not sure tbh. 12. Name some queer artists/bands or songs you like most: Ooo hard question. Green Day is always a fave, Adam Lambert is good, Troye Sivan is good, Dusty Springfield, Lzzy Hale, Halsey, Otep Shamaya, Lil Naz x, there's a lot. 19. Do you feel safe and accepted in your local community? Lol, no, not really. I'm in one of those stereotypical religious small towns where you don't breathe the word queer or else you'd find a mob after you. 25. What queer discourse frustrates you the most? Trans women are not women is bullshit, the bi and pan "pick a side, you're a lesbian in disguise, bi/pan isn't real" discourse is also bullshit. So is the "Aro/Ace doesn't belong" exclusion shit. "Don't use queer, it's offensive." Absolutely right, it is when used as a slur, as an identity though, it's empowering. I have way bigger problems in my life than to sit and watch the community destroy itself over discourse.

[limerental]

curiosity

isengrim/roche & isengrim/dijkstra

written for vrsos. this is part of my dijkstra/roche reason of state verse and also very self-indulgent in terms of my isengrim and dijkstra are soppy old men in love agenda

summary

When a case of mistaken identity leads him to cross paths with Vernon Roche, Isengrim sates his curiosity over this seemingly ordinary man who has inexplicably drawn the interest of several of his loved ones.

excerpt

“Where are your stripes and lilies, commander?” he asked. The human shuffled on the bench, looking uncomfortable with the turn this conversation had taken. “They’re in the wash,” he said dryly. “How ‘bout you? Back in my day, even Scoia’tael commanders dressed in rags and war paint. What corpse did you steal that cloak from?” The forest-green cloak had been a gift from Sigi, lightweight and ensorcelled to repel water and minor projectiles. The brass brooch that pinned the fabric closed at the shoulder was engraved with some sentimental drivel in looping Elder script whose poor grammar Isengrim had been too enamored with to correct. His boots were fresh from the cobbler and not a stitch out of place on his clothes. The contrast brought a fresh bout of humor. How comical that Isengrim reclined in coddled finery, hale and cared for, and the former right hand of Foltest found himself bedraggled and dusty and so desperate for scraps of his past life that he'd trail the rumor of an old enemy through the streets.

[foxglove-the-never-fairy]

Fairy Names Pt. 2

Fly with you! It’s been a while hasn’t it? Anyway, I’m here for a second part of one of my most popular posts.

The first post listed fairy names that were used in the DS game “Tinker Bell and the Great Fairy Rescue” in the create-a-fairy section of the game. While the names provided were feminine, I have pulled all of the masculine fairy names from the original Pixie Hollow game. Some names are repeats from the original post, but I kept them in as I wanted to get this out as soon as possible. I hope you enjoy. Here’s the original post.

~🧚🏻‍♀️🔥 Foxglove 

First

Aaron

Ace

Acorn

Agate

Ajay

Alabaster

Alder

Alec

Aleron

Alex

Anchor

Andrew

Archer

Axel

Badger

Bailey

Baker

Bale

Banjo

Barclay

Basil

Benjy

Bert

Bevel

Birch

Bo

Boomer

Boone

Brock

Bruce

Brynn

Buddy

Burr

Burton

Buster

Calder

Casper

Cecil

Cedar

Chance

Chase

Chip

Clay

Cliff

Coal

Cog

Comet

Cosmo

Cote

Covey

Crag

Crane

Cyan

Dale

Dane

Darius

Darrin

Dawson

Decker

Deon

Devlin

Dewey

Donner

Drake

Dug

Dunn

Dustin

Dusty

Echo

Eddy

Edward

Elk

Emery

Erik

Ernie

Errol

Fennel

Fincher

Finn

Fir

Flint

Ford

Francis

Garnet

Glen

Gourd

Gourdie

Grove

Grub

Gull

Hale

Hare

Harris

Hawk

Henry

Heron

Hob

Jacob

James

Jasper

Jay

Kernal

Koto

Lance

Lark

Leaf

Lore

Lute

Lyric

Martin

Maze

Mica

Michal

Nadir

Nester

Oak

Ollie

Onyx

Otter

Peat

Pier

Pine

Quake

Quarry

Quinn

Rain

Ranger

Reed

Richard

River

Robin

Rook

Rusty

Rye

Sage

Sam

Scout

Sean

Seth

Shale

Shoal

Skimmer

Skyler

Spike

Spruce

Sterling

Stone

Tad

Teak

Thatcher

Thistle

Timber

Tiny

Toadstool

Tobey

Todd

Topher

Torn

Torrey

Vail

Valiant

Vern

Vic

Wedge

Wes

Wren

Wynn

Zak

 Middle

Air

Almond

Apple

Aspen

Autumn

Badger

Bark

Beacon

Bear

Bitter

Brave

Bright

Brisk

Broom

Bumble

Candle

Cedar

Chilly

Citrus

Cloud

Cloudy

Clover

Cocoa

Copper

Cricket

Crow

Cub

Dapple

Dash

Day

Drift

Eagle

Elm

Evening

Falcon

Far

Fern

Fig

Fire

Fleet

Flicker

Foggy

Fox

Frost

Frozen

Funny

Garlic

Green

Hail

Hasty

Hawk

Hickory

Holly

Hurry

Ice

Ivy

Jelly

Jumpy

Lemon

Light

Lightning

Lime

Little

Lock

Lotus

Magic

Mango

Maple

Merry

Misty

Moon

Morning

Moss

Mossy

Mountain

Muddy

Never

Nickel

Night

Nimble

Oak

Orange

Otter

Parsley

Pear

Pebble

Pepper

Pine

Plum

Pollen

Pumpkin

Purple

Quick

Rain

Rainy

Rock

Rumble

Sage

Sandy

Sea

Shy

Silk

Slight

Snow

Sour

Speedy

Spider

Spring

Squall

Star

Storm

Stout

Strong

Sugar

Summer

Sun

Swift

Tangle

Thunder

Tiny

Toad

Tumble

Twisty

Water

Whiffle

Wild

Wind

Winter

Wrinkle

 Last

Beam

Bee

Bell

Berry

Breath

Breeze

Bug

Button

Buzz

Chill

Chime

Cliff

Cloud

Clove

Crash

Curl

Dale

Dance

Dash

Dew

Din

Drop

Dust

Ear

Elbow

Eye

Feather

Field

Fig

Flame

Flap

Flash

Fleck

Flight

Flip

Flipper

Fly

Fog

Foot

Forest

Freeze

Fruit

Garden

Gem

Glade

Glimmer

Glow

Gourd

Grace

Griddlee

Gust

Heart

Hill

Hop

Horn

Hush

Jewel

Knee

Lake

Light

Lock

Loop

Lull

Meadow

Mello

Mint

Mist

Moon

Muddle

Muse

Newt

Noise

Nose

Peal

Pebble

Petal

Pin

Plume

Pond

Pool

Ray

Ripple

River

Roar

Root

Row

Ruckus

Rumble

Sand

Shadow

Sky

Smash

Song

Spark

Sparkle

Sparrow

Speck

Spirit

Splash

Spring

Sprite

Sprout

Stem

Stone

Storm

Stream

Stripe

Swamp

Swirls

Thistle

Thorn

Toad

Tree

Twill

Twist

Vale

Valley

Vine

Weather

Web

Whirl

Whisk

Whisper

Willow

Wind

Wing

Wings

Wink

Wish