#could have been a werewolf of how keen his nose was and how big his sideburns grew

[thecreaturecodex]

What's your options on bugbears in Golorian being all serial killers or atleast obsessed with fear? I think that has room for, improvement. Definitely feels weird for them though.

I love it.

It's one of my favorite lore changes between D&D and Pathfinder. It makes bugbears feel less like "goblin, but giant". And Paizo has made it clear that some goblins mutate and just grow to Medium size, so you can have giant goblins if you want 'em.

@monstersdownthepath suggested that bugbears have a demonic taint to them. Despite their CE nature, I'd suggest sahkils instead. Bugbears are the Fear of Marauders, of Banditry, of Murder. Only they're mortal. But I bet a lot of their souls end up in Xilbaba when they die.

I imagine that small groups of bugbears are somewhere between bandit gangs and terrorist cells, roaming around and striking for maximum psychological impact as much as to get material goods. Larger communities would be like Halloweentown, only much less friendly. With running competitions for "most blood drained in a single evening". And adopting more terrible monsters into their numbers as Honorary Bugbears. Life's no fun without a good scare! If the Thing Hiding Under Your Stairs and The Shadow on the Moon At Night really wanted to kill you, and then looted your supplies and took over your village until the well runs dry or next year's crop doesn't plant itself. That's a bugbear clan.

I also love the implication in Ironfang Invasion, through characters like Scarvinious and Scabvistin (great naming convention too, IMO), that some, but not all, bugbears are envious of hobgoblins. They like the idea of civilization, of order and rigidity. And so they enlist. And because of their strength and power, they can succeed. If they "beat the bear" out, in Scabvistin's words.

So if you want to give bugbears another hook, here's my alternate, but not necessarily incompatible take. They're brood parasites. Because what's scarier than a baby that's not yours taking over your life?

We know that in Pathfinder canon, goblins and hobgoblins are both communal breeders (thanks to nursery locations in both Rise of the Runelords and Jade Regent). A mother bugbear sneaks into a goblin creche and leaves her baby behind, after killing one of the young and either eating it themselves or feeding it to Junior. The somewhat addlepated and mutation-prone goblins won't notice or mind a slightly hairier infant, right? And then the bugbear baby takes more than its fair share of resources, maybe knocks off a few of the other kids, and then either leaves the goblin colony at a young age in order to find more bugbears, or stays and muscles his way into a leadership position.

Doing the same to a hobgoblin community is riskier. The hobgoblins are much more in tune and observant. But in this case, it becomes more of a mutualistic relationship that could tip into parasitism on either end. Maybe the bugbear can get along in the hobgoblin village by learning discipline, or be content with the role of scavenger or brute. Or the bugbear could try to take over, if the hobgoblins are weak. And if the bugbear doesn't have the resources to survive and thrive, the hobgoblins send them off on a suicide mission.

And even though they only rely on other goblinoids for raising their young...most of the time, there are rumors that they do this to other peoples. Even if it happens once in a hundred years, everyone will know the story of how the Munson boy got very hairy and very big very quickly, and then slaughtered and spit-roasted the family dog when he was only 4? That kind of fear keeps the bugbears powerful. And makes the bugbears very happy.

[introloves]

— werewolf! bokuto + a/b/o + hunter / prey dynamic + knotting + ruts + slight dubcon + hurt/comfort + slight angst + fear + breeding + possessive! bokuto + overstimulation + human! & f! reader

— word count; 1.5k

he kept you warm against the harsh and bitter air from outside, chilling the apartment you both shared.

curling into his warm side, you felt the sleepy, lulled into a nice haze. but it seemed that in finding warmth and comfort, you missed the goosebumps forming against his skin, right against the places your body met his.

he should have been more careful, should have read the signs signaling the oncoming heat.

but he decided that spending time with you this close to the new moon was more worth it, he could hold himself back, contain the fever prickling under his skin.

it was stupid, in trying to prove that he could temper down the other side of him, regain hold of his humanity, he was signing a death wish.

“you okay kou?” you mumbled, sitting up against his squirming body.

the moment he felt you leave his side, he snapped up to grab you, clamping an arm around your upper arm.

he was hot, running at a temperature far too warm to be okay. it made you shake in worry for him, if he was sick he needed to get to the hospital, needed help! he needed-

“i’m so sorry.” he whimpered, or growled, you couldnt tell with the deep rumble that followed a high keen, coming straight from the center of his chest.

it took him no effort, no strength to tug you onto his lap, opening your legs to sit you comfortably over his hips.

he pressed his heated body closer, satiated at how good your smell encompassed him like this. pure instinct driving him to nuzzle in close to your pulse point, laving over it with his tongue, trying to get that sweet smell even stronger.

“sorry? for what...” you whispered, he seemed to be inching closer and closer to a higher heat, but his hands, arms closing down around your body made your head spin. in a finally attempt to reagain any control you uttered out a, “bo- stop we need to get you to the hospital you’re really hot.”

but the way you pushed, futilely, against his chest didnt sit well with him.

it was a lowly growl that made you stop, the sinking of something sharp- right where his hands gripped at your sides made you shut your mouth completely.

“you know there’s something different about me.” he began, words dripping down the side of your neck.

“but you still love me regardless.”

it was all so confusing, you’d never heard him sound like this, didnt think anyone human could produce a tremor this animalistic to their voice.

you’d never been held like this by him, he seemed to be moving, driven with pure adrenaline. shaky hands gripped at the giving flesh, leaving remnants of his heat. anywhere that there was fat, his fingers dug in tight.

“you love me-“ he choked out, his voice returning to his normal tone, tinted by an urgency.

“y/n,” he spat, crazed and rushed. “you need to run. go and lock yourself in the room. dont let me in, under any circumstances.” it wasnt going to be enough to stop him if he tried, but the growing need to do something to keep you safe overruled any other logical thinking.

he pushed you off, planting you on the floor in a hurry, stretching to his full stature, looming over you with a gaze that read; hungry.

you didnt think as you complied with his words, confused at it all. you just wanted to know what happened to your bokuto but with the way everything unfolded before you, there was truly no explanation.

as your feet pounded down the hall, the thought that you were being stalked- being chased after like a little rabbit crossed your mind briefly.

it made your legs move faster, the sound of something big, the sound of bokuto running behind you met your ears. the door of your shared room right against your fingertips.

you almost made it, the thrill of escaping let a laugh bubble in your throat. all before the floor was knocked from under your feet.

bokuto grabbed you before you crumbled down into the floor, planting your face, roughly, under the hallway carpet.

“not fast enough bunny.” he laughed.

“bokuto, whats going on, whats wrong.” you whimpered, but he wasnt listening, couldnt listen to the streams of questions leaving your mouth. all he could focus on was the growing saccharine scent wafting up from your cunt, peaking out from between your thighs. it wasn’t enough, he knew how good you could smell, at the peak of it, when he fucked you nice and hard, you smelled so divine. but it was all tainted by the sickly notes of pure fear, it wouldn’t do, he couldn’t have you smelling like that.

“its okay, i wouldn’t hurt you. have i ever hurt you?” he questioned, all the while sinking down to press his nose right to your cunt.

“n-no. you’ve never h-hurt me.” you bit back a moan when he licked over your cunt, tongue digging into the spot he knew your clit would be.

just like that he had you receptive, willing to do anything, because he was so good to you.

he let you go briefly, all to rip every peice of clothing you and him had on. once again the thought that something was wrong crossed your mind with how easy it was for him.

with clenched teeth, he wrapped his fingers around himself. letting muscle memory guide the tip of himself right into you.

spurred on by a desperate moan leaving your mouth, his name hanging off the tip of your tongue.

it was all okay, he’d fucked you so many times, this was no different?

right?

the sickly scent twisted its notes, entangling itself in your sweetness.

“its okay, my bunny. its all okay. ill fuck you good, like i always do.”

to prove it, he sinks in completely.

but he was overrun with you, completely taken over a need to have you.

throwing his head back, howling into the air, he took you with a punishing pace.

there was no noise that could leave your mouth, the familiar feeling of an orgasm looming in the distance made you melt against his hips.

strong hands holding you steady, growling with the obscene sounds your pussy made. he was going to pump you fulll, make you heavy with all the cum that he was going to give you, fucking you raw. if he was lucky, his cum would stick, breeding you like a good mate.

“you take me so good. you like it dont you?” there was no answer you could give him that would change his mind, he could smell it on you. sweat dripping down your back, pooling at the heat of his hands against your soft sides, it couldnt be more obvious.

“koutarou.” you gasped, shaking at the orgasm that finally graced your body.

it was all a reaction to you, he couldnt help the way your cunt squeezed him this tight. with a final push inside, knocking you down flat to the floor, knees shaking,

it began.

your chest burned as you took in a sharp lungful of air. his dick seemed to inflate, right at the base of your pussy, locking him tightly inside. at the peak of the swelling, his hips stuttered, bringing you along while thick ropes of cum stuffed you. pulling the stretched skin of you around his swollen dick.

“w-wh-! bo, bo it hurts!” you squealed, kicking, trying to get away. frenzied with fear, scared that he was going to rip something.

but he held you, warm hand placing right at the base of your tummy, trying to sooth your fear and shaking. he bent in close, begging for forgiveness of it all.

“i know it hurts, i’m so sorry.” he whimpered, tongue heavy with pleasure and guilt.

all fucked out and spent, you laid there, tears streaming down your face, you couldnt feel anything anymore.

it felt like it took forever for the swelling to calm down, but once it did, he quickly scrambled off you.

“angel.” he whispered, flipping you over, searching for your gaze. a sharp pang hit his gut at the sight of your wet eyes, and trembling lower lips.

“oh my baby, i’m so sorry.” he all but cried, there was already a hate, rooted deep into his being at the way he was, driven by an animal he couldnt control. after this, if you wanted him gone, he was more than willing to pack it all up to keep you safe.

your hand, trembling and sweaty, wrapped around the hand holding your face tenderly. finally he was back, there was the man that kissed you gently every morning.

“kou.” you wheezed, smiling at him.

it took a lot of effort, but you smiled.

“n-next time. you gotta prep me first.”

his eyes flittered down from your face, distracted by the clenching of your pussy, leaking everything he had worked so hard to pump you full with, smearing it down your thighs, pussy lips, and carpet.

his jaw clenched at the challenge, laughing at the thought that you’d be so weak, of course you were strong enough to take him.

you were his mate after all.

[ryeimagines]

Anchor - Liam Dunbar Imagine

Based on this prompt. Word count 1496. I’m not really sure about this one but I hope that you enjoy it. I’m a bit rusty, getting back into the swing of things so please be kind. You can kind of see it as a pre slash, up to interpretation. 

The banging on your window woke you from your slumber, a soft moan escaping your throat as you suddenly found yourself on the floor instead of the comfortable you remembered falling asleep in. Dazed you slowly rose on your feet, it took you a minute to remember what had woken you in the first place. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for the occasional nightly visits from your best friend, spending more time in your bedroom than in his own house to the point you had a routine in place. Things weren’t always so easy though, it took a while for him to be comfortable enough to stay around, let alone fall asleep. You knew he had anger issues which often got him into trouble.

That was, before he suddenly did a one eighty out of no-where and pulled the disappearing act on you, always finding excuses to not hang out, or forgetting plans you’d made. It had been weeks since he set foot in your room, and frankly you were getting close to losing it. You knew something big had happened and what was hurt the most wasn’t even the fact that he suddenly had a new group of friends he hung out with or forgetting about you, it was the fact that your best friend was hurting and you couldn’t do anything to help, he didn’t tell you about it. And now here he was, showing up out of nowhere after ghosting you like nothing ever happened.  

“What do you want Dunbar?”You tried your best to sound indifferent, but it fell a bit short. A pained noise made you turn around to face him.

“Liam.” The brief rush of relief of seeing him with your own two eyes was overtaken by a wave of fear meeting his gaze, finally taking full notice of his state, eyes glowing yellow. He growled, unwittingly making you take a step back in response. Something was seriously wrong. You’ve seen him mad before, in every kind of emotion really but never anything like this. He looked wild, animalistic, ready to tear someones’ throat out. It was the first time you had ever been afraid of him, sensing the danger that you were in. But it was still your best friend, no matter what he did, or whatever strange new stuff he was into. Whatever it was, you could fix this, you wouldn’t leave him. Which is why you went against your gut and stepped into his personal space, inches from his face without breaking his gaze, moving slowly not to startle him.

“Liam, I-”You faltered for a second, not sure what to say. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, or why you have claws all of the sudden, believe me that’s something we will discuss later, but something is up with you and I need you to snap out of it. This isn’t you. You are Liam Dunbar, my best friend, one of the kindest and most loyal people I know. I know you’re not going to hurt me, you can’t.” A soft whine came from the boy in front of you and you took it as encouragement to slowly raise your hand and touch his cheek, fingers brushing against the sharp fangs that were coated in crimson. 

“Come back to me. I need you. Whatever this is you’re going through, we can work it out together. I’m right here. Always. You’re not a bad person, you’re not a monster. You have a choice. I know you will do the right thing, you always do.” Please, come back to me. 

You were surprised by fingers gently brushing against your wrist, opening your eyes to meet familiar pools looking back at you with apprehension and pain and something you couldn’t quite put a name on. Your body moved on instinct and you found yourself clinging onto him before you knew what you were doing. After the shock had worn off, your brain started buzzing with unanswered questions that you had put on hold until now, begrudgingly untangling yourself from his arms. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.” He smiled sheepishly, fidgeting with his shirt. “You okay? I didn’t hurt you or anything?”

“I’m fine.” You assured him, glad he couldn’t see the bruises that would most likely appear soon on your arm where he grabbed it a little too tight at some point.

“What’s going on with you? Don’t you dare give me that nothing bull. You came in here soaked and covered in blood. I’m hoping it isn’t yours by the way. What the hell is going on?”

“It’s a long story. You should probably sit down.” You did, sensing the seriousness in his voice. 

“Okay so, werewolves, very much real.” 

That was your introduction to the supernatural world, and everything werewolf. That was quite the shock, you were glad you heeded his advice. He kept sending you looks through out his explanation and you urged him to keep going, you needed to know it all. That was a lot to take in, part of you were mad that he didn’t come to you sooner about this, but more than anything you were afraid. Terrified. For him, of all these people and supernatural creatures who wanted to hurt him. You were thankful to Scott for saving his life but also pissed that he put him in danger like this, which you weren’t shy to let him know the first time you joined Liam at one of their pack meetings, introducing his face to a bat. 

“You better keep him safe McCall. If he get’s hurt out there, it’s on you.” He nodded quietly nursing his bloddy nose, recognising the truth in your words. “Good, we understand each other.” You grinned, a little satisfied at the gleam of fear in his eyes. 

“You’re going to fit in perfectly.” Lydia snorted, gesturing for you to come over to join her. “I could use some help with this research, these ingrates are no help whatsoever. ” 

“Hey!” Stiles interjected from where he was laying on the couch, eyes still glued to the screen. “I helped. I’m just taking a break.”

“I’d love to.” You ended the conversation there before it got any further, returning Liam’s smile before burying your head in the books. It was all you did for the next couple of days, researching everything supernatural. Lydia introduced you to the bestiary, containing every possibly nightmare you could imagine. When you weren’t researching, you spent the time interrogating the pack and asking questions. You made it clear from day one that you two were a package deal, wherever Liam went you followed. The younger Hale was the only one who protested your precedes, letting out a disgruntled growl from where he was lurking. You ignored him. Apparently his uncle was even worse, you weren’t to keen to find that out for yourself though.

There was one thing that kind of bothered you, that kept on creeping up on you when you least expected it. Remembering that night, and the state he was in, and then being totally fine again. Actually, there was a couple of things but you hadn’t talked about it. Part of you was hesitant, but the other was growing more impatient each day and that was the one that finally won out one afternoon a couple of weeks after the incident took place. It just kind of came out, you were not really a person of tact, blurting it out over the kitchen table at dinner, causing him to start coughing like crazy. 

“So why did you show up in my room exactly? I mean, I get that you went kind of feral, but why did you show up here? Did you meant to do that?”

“Uh.” He shrugged, finally collecting himself. “I don’t know, it wasn’t really a conscious choice. I just felt this instinct to run to safety. Home.”

“My house?”

“No, I was running to you. There’s something about you that helps me stay in control. My wolf feels safe around you. I remember them trying to talk to me but it didn’t work. Only with you.”

“Oh.”

“I talked with Scott about it, and what he said made sense. I didn’t really know how to tell you so I just kept quiet about it but. You’re my anchor.” You sat speechless, wondering how he could be so calm about this new development, like it wasn’t a big deal. You had stumbled across anchors before during your deep dives, and there was a lot to it. You weren't sure if you should feel happy or terrified at the prospect that he put so much fate in you, essentially his humanity in your hands. 

“Why me?” You finally managed, voice hoarse. 

“It’s always been you, you were always there. Who else would it be? I trust you, I need you. Me being a werewolf means a lot of changes, but not that. You’re the one thing I’ve never doubted.”

[urlocalbunny]

.size difference - aaron.

2,358 words (also one of my favorites!) enjoy!

After a few months, Eloise was tired of wandering in the woods so much. There weren't many things to do on nights like these, and she didn't want to call Aaron to do something with her. Crouching in the bushes, she did the next best thing: stick a leaf in the mud and draw a dick.

A shadow loomed over her when she drew the slit, making her turn around with wide eyes.

"God is that you- ah, hey Aaron." He snorted, peering over her shoulder. "What are you looking at, huh? Why you in my business?" She picked up a stick, stirring the mud to erase her drawing. He quirked an eyebrow.

"I'm not in your 'business.' I just came here to relax. What are you doing in here, crouching in the dark drawing a leaking dick?" He retorted, crouching next to her. She looked away. "You're full of leaves in your hair too. Jesus." He picked them up, waiting for an answer.

"I'm bored, alright? I can't stay put in this house!" He kept watching her face with mild interest. She looked at him. "I'm not talking about the drawing. Forget it." She pouted. He took a strand of her hair in his hand, throwing it somewhere else. They only kissed once. She was a little nervous.

"How about you entertain me?" He asked, a playful glint on his eyes. "You got a lot of nerve to say you're bored when I'm around. We could do what we did in my room again." He said, jumping to his feet. He towered over her. He was way too tall, but Eloise liked it. His hand engulfed hers when she accepted his offer and walked back to the manor, still hand in hand. When they stopped by the door, she took off her boots and left them outside, stepping into the house.

"You're not going all the way up there barefoot." He scooped her up to sit on his arm. She gasped, balancing herself on his hand.

"I'm not going to let you fall."

"I know, sorry." He huffed pretty much like a dog would, shaking his head. Eloise took her time to admire his shiny hair. She never touched his hair before. It seemed so soft. He was a big guy, but his face and body weren't rough. He had pretty eyebrows and nose, full lips, and his face was sharp. His smile was also beautiful. She wished he'd smile more. His shoulders were large and well built, just like the rest of his body. She could support herself well on him. But what Eloise like the most was his narrow waist and his hips. She peeked behind him, on his strong back, the nice curve it made and then his plump and round-

"Ahem." Aaron was looking at her. A faint blush spread across his face. "Did you leave something behind?" He had a smug look on his face.

"Oh, nothing. Let's go in." She said casually, jumping off his arm when he lowered it enough. She opened the door, waiting for him to get in. She fidgeted a little, leaving the door open for him and sitting on the bed, swishing her dress around. The lock made a sound when he turned the key. She looked at him through her long lashes and stray strands of brown hair, batting her lashes nervously at him. He sat down, watching her cautiously. A little smirk found itself on Aaron's lips, and he smelled of a mix of pine trees and roses. Eloise almost sniffled his neck but stopped herself.

"If you don't relax, this might hurt." He whispered, his eyes changing to show her a somewhat lustful glint. She brought her legs to the mattress, sighing loudly. His eyes wandered from Eloise's collarbones to the strap of the dress that fell to the side, showing a little bit of her right breast. She held up her tiny hand, trying to cover the front of her skirt as she positioned herself. The small glimpse of her panties was just too much. Aaron leaned forward, a hot wave of embarrassment coating his cheeks. His hand caught her head, tilting it back for him as she closed her eyes. "Are you okay?" She nodded, showing him her pale neck.

His fangs sunk quickly, making her dart her arms forward blindly. Aaron tensed, sensing a difference in her behavior. Just as he was about to pull out, she held him closer.

Then, the unusual events Aaron had been experiencing with her for the last bites would begin as usual. Eloise would ball her fists around his shirt, breathless. Then throw her head back, exposing more of her neck to him. She'd maneuver her legs to nest him in between her thighs. Naturally, the werewolf would pull her onto his lap, letting himself enjoy the size difference between them and holding her waist. But alas, it wasn't over yet.

Eloise's hips started to grind against his crotch subtly, and Aaron couldn't help but push back and let a growl escape his throat. Her pace was slow, and the room was quiet, but he could hear her heartbeat pick up, the rustling of the leaves outside, the dress swishing along their dry humping, and her tiny whines like it were all in his head.

And as much as he didn't want to, he let go once he had enough. Eloise grabbed his face and moaned lowly. The kiss was as feverish as the last, but this time, she wasn't going to let go of him. His red-stained lips clashed with hers, swallowing the whimpers she let fall. Her hands wandered back and forth under his shirt, scratching his back.

When they let go of each other, Eloise fell with a deaf thud on the bed, while Aaron was still sitting on his feet. Her legs locked themselves around his waist. He looked to all the sides of the room, but his eyes couldn't seem to find hers.

"I told you. We can't do this. I can't," control himself, maybe? She frowned.

"Neither can I." She interrupted. "You're not going to hurt me. Please."

He didn't want Eloise to be in a position where she'd beg for him knowing he wanted it too, but she was so,

"You're so small." He mumbled, letting her pull him closer and slide his shirt up slowly, caressing his abdomen and circling his navel, then his chest, thumbing his nipples a little, and then making her way back, sliding her finger on top of the button on his pants. He looked at her expectantly. Eloise opened the button, small hands skimming through the belt loops to rid him of the piece of clothing. Her hands flattened through his boxers, pulling them down and copping a feel on his ass at the same time. Aaron sighed when she squeezed it between her hands. His cock began to spring free, making Eloise dart her eyes to his crotch.

"My eyes are up here, my beloved." He husked, warm and minty breath fanning across her face.

"I know," she said, not even lifting her face. Aaron's length slapped against her stomach, making her suck in a breath and reach for it tentatively. His eyes followed her smaller hand grasping his cock and pumping it slowly. Her hands made him look way too big. Kicking the clothes pooled around his knees, he decided to return the favor. His hand ran up one of her thighs, feeling the delicate patterns on her underwear. He scoffed lightly.

"Why do you even bother wearing panties?" He asked, pulling them off carefully nonetheless, smiling fondly at the way she shimmied out of them eagerly. She was so cute.

"Sometimes it gets cold! If I pass out in the woods, I sure as hell don't want to be butt-naked." He chuckled, shaking his head in fake disapproval.

"You're an idiot," He said lovingly, pulling her dress up and pulling it out of her arms, neck, and head. She was sitting now, and he took this opportunity to pull her into his lap again. "You're so tiny too. Do you think you can take this much dick?" She shuddered, shying away.

"Stop." The pleading eyes she gave told him otherwise. He smiled.

"Okay, sorry, I'll shut up."

"Hmm. No. Y-you can say more," The girl mumbled shyly, averting her white gaze. "I- I think I like it. Maybe."

He decided to shut up. His dick was hard, and he needed the release only Eloise could give him. Aaron's mouth latched on her neck, making blue and purple blotches around the collarbones. He bit gently, sometimes harder, listening for the approval or oversensitivity of his beloved, feeling for her trembling legs and the rhythm of the hips that picked up or slowed down depending on the caress he granted her.

Her eyes zeroed on his crotch again, and she licked her lips lustfully, hoping out his lap and laying down on her stomach to be eye level with his length. The tip was a brownish-red tone that she made sure to admire before pumping it again a few times, licking a tentative stripe from the middle of his balls to the tip.

"Eloise, don't tell me you're thinking about giving me head- fuck." Her mouth felt warm against the leaking tip, jerking the rest on her hand slowly not to hurt him. She took him deeper and deeper each time, gagging around him lightly. She rolled her eyes back, moaning in pleasure when he keened as his length hit the back of her throat. Her hands found themselves either pinching one of his nipples and running up his abs or cupping his balls, stopping when he seemed to whimper too much. He was vocal and mildly loud, which helped her to find out that he loved when she licked the vein on the underside and jerked the base or when she sucked on the head and looked at him in the eyes.

"C-close. Baby, please." He breathed, putting his legs beside her shoulders to give her a place to balance herself better. Her free hand flew to his thigh, caressing and squeezing it tentatively, sliding against his knee and coming back to the bottom of his ass. He whimpered again, a broken cry of her name filling the room before his thick seed spurted on her mouth. She made sure to swallow, looking into his eyes.

Aaron's chest shook. He was gasping for air. Eloise's hand barely wrapped around him. His cock twitched. That was good, but he wanted more. There was more, and he was going to have it.

"On your back, now." He pushed her to the other side, her raspy chuckle shaking her form. She grabbed her boobs, her perky nipples appearing through her fingers, and started teasing herself. He took her place, wasting no time in sucking on her clit and letting it go with a lewd 'pop.' His fangs grazed along her inner thighs, leaving hickeys on them, around her lower lips, and on top of them. Soon, he was back at it, dying to taste her again. His dick twitched, leaking precum desperately. Her hands trembled around her boobs. She arched her back and fisted his hair, begging for some release. Aaron wasn't a complicated person. He'd give it to her without thinking twice.

"Aaron, f-fuck." Her hair fell around his pillows and on her fucked out face, adorning it in a lovely way. Her perky nipples invited his lips, but her pussy was just too good. His eyes fell on her body, fingers gripping her roughly and creating red, superficial marks on her hips and stomach. He growled wildly, sucking on her slowly enough to have her eyes welling up.

"Stop teasing me." She croaked out, hips grinding against his tongue. Her orgasm was near. Aaron didn't let up, lapping up at everything she had to give. Her eyes screwed shut, and her mouth let out a strangled cry, walls clamping around his tongue as she rode it out. Her next moan came out ragged and desperate, pulling him up by the shoulders to no avail. He caught on the hint, sitting close to Eloise, positioning her thighs on top of him to line up with her entrance. He didn't wait for her to brace herself, setting a punishing pace against her. Her cries filled the whole room and flew out the window in front of them.

Her eyes were hazy, and her hands searched for him, pulling him closer. Aaron was a wreck, moaning every time Eloise bit him or clawed at his back, the feeling of her small hands grazing over him overwhelming. He stood up, lifting her off the bed and holding her up, pounding into her mercilessly. Her head rolled back, hair hanging around. Her hand darted to move from his neck to her abused clit, rubbing it furiously.

"Cum with me." She pleaded, a small voice filling the space between them. He met her gaze, kissing her again to taste himself on her mouth. Now closer, Eloise could see his eyes glow an ominous golden, and his pupils dilated for a second, not long before he bit her shoulder again to muffle the loud sound he made when her walls started to pull him in further. He couldn't take it anymore, twitching violently before loading inside. The man whimpered pitifully, still rutting against her to overstimulate himself. Her cries made him still as deep as he could to rest inside of her, not wanting to make her feel overwhelmed.

"You're still cumming." She breathed, giggling at him. He looked at her in the eyes, now back to his usual flustered but forward demeanor. His cute little smile made her kiss his forehead, cooing at the way his nose crinkled.

"I love you." He said tiredly. She widened her eyes, stiffening, then relaxing and holding him a little closer than possible.

"I love you more."

Meanwhile...

"Is it over?" Ivan whispered outside. "Thank the gods above, that was intense! I could never do you guys like that. Hoo!"

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 39- Periapts

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

How many hermits does it take to find protection amulets? And not bring home even more junk like a target run? And what do they do when the Guild of Gedeon discovers them?

_________________________________________

“Grian, those shoes are worthless for you- you already have wings!” Iskall waves his arms, exasperated by his shopping buddies. In the midst of the Redland bazaar, the hermits have separated out to find supplies they both need and could use. Iskall tones himself down as two Gedeons walk by, the entire area going quiet and watching as the council guildmembers march on. What are they doing in Redland?

“Yeah, but you don’t. You guys could use it though!” Grian buys the sandals without second thought, and without haggling for the price. Mumbo groans. They have yet to even purchase a protection or repelling item- or any amulet. He’s not sure if Grian understands saving money, and can only look away, across the busy, bustling bazaar to see who else is having better luck. 

Hypno can’t help but play with the dowsing rods in his hands, only for xB to grab one rod before the two pieces can cross paths. “Those aren’t a toy, give me those things. Do you want to summon a storm?”

“It could be useful! A big storm to battle off a husk storm!”  Hypno grins, before patting his hands against his friend’s shoulder. “It’s alright, man, we can grab some talismans right after this. But this is too cool to pass up!” 

Together, with xB’s innate kipling knowledge of enchantments, they pick out a few talismans. Wards against harm and unfortunate thoughts. Removing the law of attraction, or at least easing it. Two of the talismans were mass produced, before xB advised Hypno that unique amulets were likely stronger, picking through boxes and glass cases full of strange, vibrant pieces. 

But it doesn’t take long for xB to get distracted on his own. Reeling back when he sees it. “Whoa, I didn’t know these still existed! I thought the last of the moodium ores have died out!”

“But xB, we’re supposed to be looking for amulets.” Hypno mimics xB, but he’s grinning. “What even is it?” 

“It’s a mood ring!” xB’s voice rises and falls to make it sound mysterious. 

Hypno isn’t much impressed. “You mean the trinkets you get from the candy store as a kid?” 

“No! Those were inspired by real mood rings. Watch this.”  xB slips the ring on, and covers the pink, round cut gem and closes his eyes. Hypno snickers, watching for the stone to change color just because of xB’s body heat. His snicker fades, lip quivering as he feels globs of hot tears fall from his eyes. What the hell, why is he crying? Why does he feel so sad? 

“You…” xB’s grin and a wiggle of his bejeweled finger is all he needs to see to know what’s happened. “Asshole! You changed my emotions!” 

“No, I didn’t. You were already sad about something, I just amplified that. I also can smell that you didn’t brush your teeth this morning.” xB covers his nose, pulling off the ring before taking a deep, relieving breath. 

Hypno isn’t sure what he’s sad about, but it was obviously there. He wipes away the tears, large droplets and streams down his cheeks. Ruining his cool guy attitude, just crying in some random shop in the middle of a bazaar. He looks around for something to raise his epic points, but becomes distracted when he sees three Gedeons roughing up a shopkeep, demanding some kind of council tax he never heard of. In fact, all of the bazaar is quieter than other times he’s been to Redland. As if a nightmare patrols with Sidero’s henchmen. Perhaps that’s what saddens him. Even here, the Council’s influence is felt. 

Further down, nestled in an arcade offshoot, Ren, Jevin, and Cleo are in the middle of an intense battle. Not with swords or magic, but words. 

“300 rupees.” Cleo declares, holding up the protection talisman. The sigilized stone dangles in the air, twisting and casting it’s armoring gaze out on the bazaar.

“800, little lady.” The portly merchant reaches out, threading his fingers around the cord and starts to pull it back.

“350, and you get to keep your fingers for calling me a lady.” Cleo lays her other hand on the hilt of her sword, smiling a demure grin, her sickly green skin stretching for him to see. 

“Fine.” The merchant untangles himself from the fight and the amulet, grumbling under his breath as he takes the money from Jevin’s outstretched hand. “I dunno why people are suddenly buyin’ up all the protection amulets. There some kinda guild war about to break out?” 

“Not exactly.” Ren snickers, before trodding out of the tent and back into the sunlight. If he were on Eremita, he’d stretch out and sunbathe, sunglasses perched just so that he can see the clouds make their own creations in the sky. His daydream is ruined, however, when he feels a rap against his rear, tail tucking between his legs. 

“Hey boy, wanna get the stick?” Jevin teases, waving a snarled old staff for Ren. 

The mixed-up mage isn’t amused- though, the werewolf in him does make his heart beat in excitement to chase a stick. “My dude, I’m not even a real werewolf. I just know I rock a tail and ears.” 

Cleo shakes her head. “This is ridiculous. Who would waste 2000 rupees on some stick? These merchants are out of their mind. Now I see why Scar left his home.” 

“That’s not just ‘some stick’ li-” The merchant stops when a flash of metal glints against the sun, backing up until Cleo sheathes her sword again. “I- it’s a shift stick. It’s a one time use, takes the holder back in time a minute. A do over, a chance to fix a mistake. Perhaps even more useful than any stone necklace. One of a kind, and for such… unique customers like you, I’ll lower the price to 1500 rupees.” 

Jevin pulls out 5 gold rupees, before Ren and Cleo can say anything, and clutches the stick. “Totally worth it.” 

“How do we even know if it works?” Ren isn’t sure if it does exactly what it claims to do. They may have bought the most expensive branch in the world, but Jevin refuses to let it go. 

“We can ask Xisuma. He can check or something, he’s a smart guy.” Jevin shrugs. They have enough money, especially with how well Cleo’s haggling has gone. They could buy three shift sticks with the money they’ve been given, and still have enough to buy even more talismans. 

The three wander along the bazaar, meeting with other hermits on their way. BDubs and Keralis show off an entire chest of shielding stones, while Scar is laden with more golden amulets than anyone. When Cleo presses him on how he managed to find so many unique and powerful charms, he only smiles. “I know a thing or two about the trade business.” 

“Those are the dragon spirits on them.” Cub points out the twisting, dancing dragon. Without wings and the white pearl accents, it’s easy to identify which of the spirits is depicted. Ashtios, the Northern Wind Dragon. Another depicts winged dragons, finned dragons, sheared dragons. Fire, water, and earth. The spirits and sages that aided the gods to create the earth, and who provide median between the two realms. Nothing is more protective than a dragon, and they can feel the strength in the spell of each amulet. 

Down the bazaar, the hermits jump at the sound of metal clashing and magic being cast. Followed by yelling, Keralis and Doc are chased from a shop. The shopkeep waves her broom at the two. “What kind of freak eats a bug in the middle of my store! Get back here you cretins!” 

Doc’s gruff snicker is only matched by Keralis’s whimper. “But it was gonna help us. It was just a noisy locust.” 

The two escape from the bazaar, disappearing into the crowds of Redland. BDubs points in the direction his friends just escaped, blinking away confusion. “Should we be concerned about them?” 

“Keralis is with Doc, he’ll be fine.” Xisuma waves. “Besides, their grown men.” 

“Looks like we weren’t the only ones who got distracted by other goods.” Cleo nods her head at the books in X’s arms. 

Xisuma looks offended by the statement, and stutters over his breath to explain himself. ‘The-these are ancient works! They could have important information about dark magic!” He looks at the stick Jevin’s holding. “What kinda crap are we bringing home now?” 

“We have flying shoes.” Iskall holds them aloft, Grian preening the white feathers flat against the golden laces. 

“Dowsing rods and a mood ring.” xB keeps the metal rods far away from Hypno, who seems all too keen on starting up a hurricane in the city.

“And what we hope is a stick that can turn back time.” Jevin holds it up. “Otherwise I’m going to use this stick to beat that merchant for lying.” 

Lucky for Jevin and the merchant, Xisuma can feel the magic in the whorls of the wood. “I’ll say, these are all pretty impressive. Useless for our cause but… temporal magic is difficult. Were all our rupees wasted on things we didn’t intend to buy?” 

“Not the Convex!” Cub grins, hefting the smaller of the duo over his head, blue embers gleaming from their eyes. “We have enough protection amulets to destroy whatever Dolios got!” 

Xisuma opens his mouth to answer, but another voice cuts through the air, his own faltering and fading against his mask. “Now what reason could you have to go against Magistrate Dolios?” All of the hermits turn, seeing a squadron of members from the Guild of Gedeon, red tassels that mimic the Council’s golden ones fluttering in the wind. Behind them, the broom wielding merchant sticking her tongue out at the hermits. “Wait a minute- I think I’ve seen these scum before.” The center mage points at Mumbo. “You beat me in the duel!” 

Xisuma meets his gaze with TFC, both with their eyes wide. Behind him, Iskall rolls up his sleeves and snaps his gloves tight, ready for a fight. Mumbo’s fraught voice whispers out from beneath his mustache. “No one bought any smoke bombs, did they? Anyone?”

The guildmembers hear his words, and three magic circles rise. Mumbo shrieks and hides behind Grian. “Why did we have to send our two best fighters to Alphasgard?” 

Wind blusters against the hermits, tearing flags against their poles and sending the bazaar into chaos. Grian’s wings open, flight feathers brushing against the stone walls on both sides of the bazaar. He beats his wings down, and a gale force wind sends the bucket-headed goons of the Council knocking into one another, rolling down and into the mudcaked gutter. “Alright, I think the shopping spree is over guys. Time to bounce!” 

One second, the head mage is on his feet, the next he’s collapsed on the floor, snoring. Hypno’s wild purple magic circle twists in his hand, eyes blank and full of sleep while he searches his own mind. Digging through his dreams. The other two wizards slip their way out from the gutter, sharp spines of one’s spell driving forward like horns of a bull. But a dense fog appears in the midday sun. 

It’s also bright blue. Beef turns, taking the sudden cover as his chance to escape. All of the hermits follow suit, though Joe remains a few paces behind to follow Hypno. “Blue fog that smells faintly of cotton candy...I would love to study your psyche and dreams one day, my dear friend Hypno.”

[bigskydreaming]

“I was human once. Where were you then?” I pretty thoroughly abandoned Teen Wolf after season 4, and even before then, I didn’t engage with the fandom much, but the voice that you give Scott is enough to keep me with one toe dipped in the pond. He’s funny and clever and kind. Even years since I’ve read anything else in TW, WTWTA continues to be a favourite. Do you feel like talking about where you were planning to go with it? I’ve seen you talk about Lightning Crashes plenty, but not WTWTA.

Thank you so much for this ask! Not gonna lie, Lightning Crashes consumes most of my remaining Teen Wolf attention just because its so freaking big and I've got so much written for it over the years that like, I will riot against myself if I don't finish it because like ugh I didn't write all that just to have it sit unread in my own damn files forever, y'know? So like, while I would love to return to Where Wild Things Are someday I'm not trying to make any claims about that one until LC is off my back. Tbh, I'm trying not to make any claims about fanfic or deadlines until I'm fully recovered from my surgery and whatnot because like......my day to day life is just not reliable and I hate not being able to keep my word on stuff.

BUT. That all said, I do still have a lot of fondness for WWTA and plenty of thoughts about it and willingness to talk about where it was headed for anyone who prefers to just hear about that on the assumption it won't ever really get returned to, cuz like, you are Valid.

And I actually have a lot of fondness for that part you quoted in particular, like, I've heard a lot of good things from people about that whole interaction being a standout for them, and its a personal fave because it pretty succintly got to the heart of some of my biggest issues with Teen Wolf's portrayal of hunters and specifically their ideology and self-justifications.

Anyway, some basics about where that fic was going below the cut, and I'm happy to go into more detail or provide snippets or excerpts from future parts as well.

So the very next chapter after what was posted is actually another Scott POV, and it has Peter showing up to his house at night while his mom's at work, Cora with her uncle as well, and 'summoning' Scott to be by his side as well while Peter goes to meet with another Alpha in a rival pack's territory. (Said Alpha being Ennis, in this case).

This chapter's actually a pretty interesting one IMO because I used it to play around with a personal headcanon I have for chemo-signals. There's actually been a fair amount of theorizing in the scientific (and pseudo scientific, lol) communities about what it might be like if humans could pick up on and interpret chemo-signals, because the science suggests that actually we DO.....just at such a tiny magnification so as to make it impossible to get any like, usable data from what little our noses do pick up.

But a popular theory is that picking up on chemo-signals would produce a physiological like, 'mirroring' of what's being picked up on, like....okay, so there's this thing in a lot of evolutionary traits that are linked to survival mechanisms. Where like, the body in the act of receiving various signals from another being about something being dangerous or threatening or to be avoided, it'll essentially mimic the very signs of distress or warning in the person or creature its picking up those signals from. Its kinda part of an automatic feedback loop, like going through a version of the same reaction a person is seeing in others is part of the body and brain's interpretative process, taking in certain stimuli and then processing it in ways that end up with the brain consciously cluing in that what its seeing is that it should be wary of danger.

I'm explaining it badly, but the basic idea is like.....you know that almost instinctive flinch of horror or fear you get almost in like....sympathy, when you see someone else in obvious distress or terror....even before or without seeing or experiencing whatever it is that's making them so distressed/afraid yourself? That's an example of what I'm talking about here. One creature or person transmits various signals - be they visual by way of stance or expression, or scent, or auditory like screams - and surrounding 'pack creatures' or basically any nearby beings likely to be part of that initial being's pack or herd or community.....they pick up these signals and the message of warning or whatever being conveyed via those signals....and in the process of translating that into some kind of actionable instinct, they ALREADY replicate and thus partially pass on those very same signals themselves.

So the thing about scents that we give off even as humans, is that there's actually a LOT of data and signals encoded into these scents or the various things our bodies produce in association with these scents, like sweat. Even though we can't discern these scents to any degree that allows us to meaningfully interpret the data encoded in them, because we didn't ever end up evolving down the evolutionary path that might have resulted in us being able to smell to that degree....like, the information is still THERE, packed into those scents and odor-producing body by-products.

And that has a lot to do with why we react the way we often do to smelling someone's sweat even to the degree that we DO pick it up.....because think of what bodily reactions tend to produce sweat. Its not just physical exertions, its also in a response to nervousness or discomfort or disgust or outright danger, etc.....and our instinctive responses to scenting the sweat someone produces is often to like....mirror those very same emotions. Just to a much more minor degree than if we were able to smell to the same degree that like, we can see.....and thus pick apart single scents and interpret the various distinct elements and emotions packed INTO those, much like how our eyes are evolved to pick apart visuals and interpret specific details about shapes we see in front of us and give a lot more nuance and specificity to what our eyes are picking up on.

So the theory is that if we WERE able to smell to this keen degree....we would be able to tell a LOT about people's emotional state just from the physiological byproducts they produce in various emotional states.....BUT there'd be a trade-off. We would also be prone to the same tendency to unconsciously mimic the signals we were picking up on.....so our own scent glands, our own expressions, would be likely to 'pass on' the indications of fear or arousal or anxiety that we're smelling.

What intrigued me about this idea, in terms of werewolves who are stated to be able to pick up and interpret chemo-signals......is that it carries with it the implication that actually, most werewolves - at least those in packs - would have EXCELLENT self-control, in contrast to what most hunters believe about werewolves and their lack thereof.

Because think about it......if werewolves are constantly being bombarded with the chemo-signals of those around them, and interpreting these smells and the signals contained within them with the same matter of fact ease most of us translate the visual signals our eyes convey to us......in actuality, werewolves would need to have exceptional control over their own reactions to external stimuli.......or else they'd constantly stand out by having facial expressions and stance cues that seem to change radically with seemingly very little reason for them to do so as far as normal humans around them can tell. And at the same time, the facial reactions they might instinctively flash to in response to picking up say, stark terror from someone who was trying their best to hide that VISUALLY due to the presence of someone they were afraid of like an abuser....the fact that werewolves seemed to often be reacting to things they were picking up on in ways that seemed completely contrary to what visual or auditory cues were evident to everyone else....this would also make them stand out even in a crowd.

So to my mind, the extent to which werewolves were shown deciphering information via chemo-signals on the show suggests that actually, werewolf packs would place a huge focus on teaching their children and their new bitten members both the importance of having firm self-control over their own reactions and emotional state - in order to counter their own instinctive tendencies upon smelling things like strong fear or arousal or anxiety in others - as well as the HOW of doing just that.

Which in turn would lead to the idea that its the LACK of a pack - and the grounding knowledge and presence of other experienced werewolves - which most often results in the existence of the 'out of control' omega werewolves that hunters use to justify the necessity of their existence.

Think how bewildering it would be to constantly be bombarded with signals and cues that suggest that the people around you are at any given moment in heightened states of panic and distress and discomfort. How much that would shred your own self-control if you weren't extremely practiced - and aided - in keeping a clear awareness of your OWN emotional state and feelings at all times, so you don't get swept away by the tide of emotional information you're picking up on all sides. I imagine it wouldn't be that much different walking down the hall of a school picking up the scent chemo-signals of a hundred teenagers in the throes of puberty, hormonal changes, and constant stress and intense feelings.....than say, if you or I were to walk down that same hall and instead of just seeing and hearing a hundred teenagers laughing and talking and going about their day, we saw and heard every one of those teenagers acting out visual and auditory cues of extreme intensity on all sides, from some of them screaming for dozens of different reasons to others being clear images of someone in pain or outright terror, etc.

Its a lot. Its easy to imagine that omega werewolves would not actually be any less 'capable' than any other werewolf, they're not wild or feral because they're lesser or whatever.....its simply for whatever reason, they never were taught the lesson of just how important it is to learn how to not just interpret scent cues, but block them out when necessary or at the very least maintain a conscious awareness of how to keep your own sense of self prioritized in your brain over just....instinctively reacting to everything being flung at you information wise.

Anyway. So a big component of what's to come there is how this might impact the world of Teen Wolf if explored in depth.....

Because on the one hand, this information would be the EXACT thing needed to really put things into clarity re: hunters and werewolves. The reality that actually, most werewolves are exceptional at self-control....that when they're a danger to others, its usually because they're that way with INTENT like Deucalion or Ennis. That most werewolves aren't the inches-from-being-mindless timebombs that hunters stress are the real reason for why they exist. The omegas are actually the odd ones out, and their lack of self-control is something that can actually be mitigated by integration into existing packs or just more avenues for educating themselves on what they are now and what differences that makes in their lives and just their very approaches to life.

But on the other hand, this information is exactly what werewolves like Scott CAN'T inform hunters of en masse.....because of the existence of hunters like Gerard and Kate who actually don't CARE about the code and the idea of just existing to protect humanity from the out of control dangerous 'monsters'....but rather just want to kill werewolves for other reasons. Because hunters who were fully in the know as to how much control the average werewolf has over their emotional state....as well as WHY its so important for them to learn and practice such exceptional self-control......because of how VULNERABLE to reacting to the emotional states of others werewolves are......they would no doubt be able to weaponize this against werewolves. After all, even exceptional self control is bound to waver if say, in the presence of large numbers of humans who are being deliberately influenced to give off certain scent cues in mass quantities......just so hunters can pick out at a distance who seems to be reacting to things none of the humans present seem to be aware of, etc.

So things like this are meant to become central to Scott and Allison's burgeoning relationship and the everpresent question they each have for how much they can really trust the other - and trust the other WITH - no matter how much they want to. Even as Scott starts to fall for Allison and believe the best of her, he's very aware of her still existant ties to her family, her own 'pack' - and despite being in possession of so much knowledge about werewolves that could most likely open Allison's eyes even further to how inaccurate most of the information she and others like her father are working off of is......Scott's equally keenly aware that giving her that information COULD still backfire and put his own pack in danger if it for whatever reason doesn't end up being enough to fully bring her over to his side.

Basically the big theme of the story has always been about who can you trust, even when you really WANT to trust them, because even people with similar moralities can have conflicting priorities and its not always enough to just be on the same page in one of those respects.

Anyway, the next chapter is big on introducing the importance of chemo-signals as Peter drives to his meeting with Ennis and tells Cora and Scott to settle between themselves who will accompany him inside (a clear position of prominence relevant to the ongoing power struggle between Cora and Scott for influence among their packmates). And most of that happens by way of the two of them 'scent-talking' to each other in the backseat. Because a side-effect of the idea that smelling chemo-signals prompts certain facial cues in response, as well as exceptional control over their own emotions and thus accompanying physiological cues, means that its possible for werewolves to have very involved silent discussions just by deliberately invoking various scents for the other, etc.

Cora of course wins that mini-battle between them, by way of the leverage she has over Scott now that she knows he's able to lie to Peter without betraying it with his scent or his heartbeat. Peter would never risk having someone capable of lying to him with no sign, so that's as good of a death sentence if he finds out. But at the same time, its something Cora knows she can't milk for too long, because the longer SHE has the information that Scott is capable of that, the less effective it becomes as leverage.....since hiding that from Peter could massively backfire and put her at risk too, meaning there's only so long she can use it as leverage against Scott before it becomes a case of mutually assured destruction and he says 'go ahead, tell Peter, and once he finds out how long you've kept that from him see what position that leaves you in.'

So Cora knows this information is best used sooner rather than later, so she leverages it off the bat, to get Scott to cave on this one and so she's the one to accompany Peter to his top secret meeting with Ennis and learn whatever they're talking about and what the basis of this alliance they seem to have formed is. Also, Peter comes out of the meeting carrying a mysterious box he got from Ennis, that seems to have been his goal all along, and has Cora troubled, but unwilling to divulge any information about what it might be.

Scott however gets something out of the meeting too, because even while left outside, he discovers some key information.....Ennis' pack includes Jiang and Tierney, two members of Brett's old pack that he thought were dead. Ennis had 'taken them in' though they really didn't have a ton of choice in the matter and were less than thrilled about it....which gives Scott the start of an actual plan. Which thickens once he learns Brett's sister Lorilee is alive as well, and a member of Kali's pack, along with refugees from another wiped out pack, the Primals.

Essentially, where this is all building towards is over time, Scott starts reaching out to the exploited and miserable teens stuck at the bottom of abusive packs they never asked to be a part of but are afraid to leave....and begins building an alliance of teens across multiple local packs. None of them are strong enough to overthrow their own Alphas on their own, but together, they could be strong enough to overthrow a single Alpha, and then consolidate as a pack of their own behind a single teen Alpha.

Of course, problem is Cora figures this out eventually as well, and begins building her own rival alliance among teens from Kali's pack and others, and it essentially becomes a race to get an alliance strong enough to topple Peter built first, before the other can make their move.

On Allison's side of things, she begins mentoring the younger teens that Scott picked out as being eyed by his Alpha as potential recruits. This involves teaching them archery at her house one weekend, only to then discover from Gerard's conversation with her parents that hunters recovered the arrow Allison had shot through Isaac's shoulder way back in the first chapter. They found blood on it, and are planning to use it to see if the person that blood belongs to is in the system at all. Which Isaac is, due to being in the foster care system, even if only nominally.

Feeling complicit and not ready to trust the werewolves yet but not willing to feel personally responsible for the death of someone she goes to school with, Allison alerts Scott to the danger. Which in turn leads to the pack under Peter's orders, like, breaking into the facility where the arrow and blood are being analyzed and destroy the sample before it can trace back to Isaac and from there, the rest of them by association.

Problem is, its Matt's first official 'outing' on a werewolf mission and he decides to revel in his newfound power by killing a guard. Welcome to Team Blue Eyes, Mattie. That didn't take long. Not that anyone is surprised, but Scott is a bit screwed by it. Because now Allison is furious and retreating from their slowly building alliance/relationship because she feels guilty that her information led to someone getting killed by a werewolf and thinks she never should have shared her intel even though Scott tries to stress that he had no control over Matt and could do nothing to stop it.

So that kinda puts a roadblock in the Scallison that takes time to work past, though it will of course get worked past.

Meanwhile elsewhere, Peter's plans for turning more freshmen are delayed when Cora and Scott both feel pressed to alert him of a surprising development at Beacon Hills High before the other tells Peter first. Suddenly there are two new werewolves at school - albeit very nervous, scared and confused werewolves - and they aren't transfer students. Someone turned two of their classmates, Tracy and Josh, and that someone was NOT Peter. So now Peter is outraged because someone is turning people in his territory which is a clear challenge from another Alpha, and he wants to know who. Which leads to Erica and Boyd being assigned to tail the new wolves and see who they lead back to.....as well as both Scott and Cora, by now accelerating their efforts to build up support for their positions both inside and outside of the pack, like both of them now make plays to get Erica and Boyd from the No Man's Land they've been residing in, and get them to finally pick a side between the two rivals for Peter's Alpha crown. With the information they glean from following the two new surprise werewolves being vital to both Scott and Cora's plans.

The Alpha in question turns out to be Deucalion, who is back in the area after years away where he seemed uninterested in werewolf politics, but now seems to be intent on building up a new pack for himself across multiple Alphas' territories in earnest.

Meanwhile meanwhile, Scott has started to worry about where Theo's loyalties actually lie, as Boyd informs him that part of what's kept him from throwing in with Scott is Boyd keeps his nose to the ground to stay very informed on what's what and keep abreast of what everyone else is doing at all times - Boyd is very big on the idea that knowledge and thus information is power - so Boyd has been paying more attention to Theo than even Scott has lately, given how much Scott's got going on at the moment. And Theo's been making some moves of his own that have Boyd distrustful of just how much Scott ACTUALLY has his loyalty, and thus Boyd is wary of hitching his wagon to the prospective Alpha who is perhaps not as well or thoroughly supported as he thinks he is, or is counting on being.

So Theo being Theo will complicate matters considerably. Note that I don't go with unnecessarily evil Theo ever, as that's boring, but I always fuck with absolutely and necessarily self-interested and amoral Theo because that's anti-boring. So Theo's not out to screw Scott just to screw him (well not THAT way at least), but Theo is big on covering his bases and he's contemplating making his own bid for power because he's not sure he trusts that Scott can pull this off and Cora's not an option given that he HAS until now been Team Scott in all visible ways, so he's seeking....other options. Just so he can have the most possible options and vet them thoroughly before deciding on a course of action, naturally.

The big tipping point to all of this will come when someone betrays Scott to some hunters and leads to him being captured and identified as a werewolf by some hunters loosely affiliated with Allison's family.....and Allison makes her choice here for good and risks everything to rescue Scott which might involve someone dying. Not a main character. But uh, there definitely is some dying and it makes Allison and Scott both feel things like guilt, regret, self-recrimination and also "I did what I did and that's that about that" with only like 60% of that being bravado to cover up omg I have no idea what I'm even doing anymore.

In order to find somewhere for Scott to recuperate that is not her house, because lol duh, and is not Scott's house, because Peter lol duh, a desperate Allison ends up looping in Lydia, Danny, Jackson and Stiles, and enlisting their help in hiding Scott at Lydia's lakehouse until he recovers. This leads to them all finally being in the know and uncomfortably allying with Isaac and some other werewolf members of Team Scott, who are of course furious at the betrayal of any werewolf giving up one of their own to hunters, let alone Scott.....which leads to the twins making a surprise shift in allegiance, because they think Cora was behind the hunters finding out and that's too far for them. It was NOT in fact Cora, but it might have been someone ON Team Cora who thought they were doing what Cora would have wanted them to do. And by might have I mean definitely and also they were Not Correct in their assumptions about what Cora would want. She and Scott are rivals and she's an antagonist here but she's not evil or even as bloodthirsty as she pretends to be for appearances, but she like Theo is looking out for number one and what she believes is best for what remains of a Hale pack, any Hale pack.

Other stuff happens, Liam does get turned, Mason gets his druidic knowledge on because that's a Trope that no Kalen story will ever be without, and the ultimate showdown between teens and asshole adult werewolves will end with Scott True Alpha level-upping but Peter definitely will still die as will several other Alphas and Scott is not the only teen who ends up an Alpha at the end of things though each teen Alpha will for now go their own way with their own pack made up of kids from the two teen wolf alliances. There will be confrontations with the hunters before the end too, beyond just rescuing Scott from the NPC hunters who are destined for Demiseville, population them, but the hunters will not be 'totally defeated' in as much as that's even a possibility, and the story was always meant to end with the McCall pack and some human allies taking to the road to find somewhere else to establish a territory and build their strength (and graduate high school) before making a full stand against hunters.

Backstory is meant to be filled in all the way through, with a focus on Scott and Derek's not-at-all-like-canon relationship as for the first year or so after Scott was turned, Derek was still around and did his best to help guide and teach Scott while acting as a buffer against his uncle which Scott greatly appreciated and his thoughts of 'fuck you Derek' should be taken as unreliable narration and mostly just cynical humor cuz he misses him. With said backstory reveals culminating in the eventual shocker of how Derek died (surprise, it was Peter in the parlor with the backstabbing and also candlestick), Cora finding out, cue Cora Not Being Very Pleased With Uncle Peter At The Moment, Actually, and like....other shenanigans are had.

Also also there may be a road trip involved at the veeeeeery end, that involves the mysterious box Peter traded something to Ennis for, which may or may not be magic and resurrection-oriented, but also definitely is both those things and aimed at a grand finale of teen Derek rising from mystical waters being like "who the fuck are you" at Scott who smiles and says "we're brothers."

And that's what you missed on Glee.

[softboywriting]

Haven Port | Chapter Seven| Shawn Mendes

Summary: Shawn and his pack have moved to your tiny town of Haven Port. You’ve never met werewolves other than your dad before and you’re infinitely curious. You may be only half werewolf but you and Shawn have a connection that will send you on a wild romantic journey in this small town you call home. [hybrid reader] [werewolf shawn]

Word Count: 1.8k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Since the founding festival things have been going smoothly. The weather has eased up, the snow is starting to melt. Haven Port is beginning to see the first signs of spring, and with spring comes the ships. Triple the number of ships that you see in the winter months to be more accurate. More boats means more business for the shop.

Tia suggests making the shop a cafe a few weeks after the festival. She knows how to get permits and she is willing to help you run it. The only issue is money. You've got a little bit in savings but you're not too keen on taking out a loan from one of the banks in the city. Tia has savings too and she is willing to go in with you but ultimately it's your call. Making the shop a cafe will be a big undertaking and a huge change from just using and buying dry goods. You're going to think about it and sort out everything that will need to be planned.

It's a Monday morning and you head down to the docks to take Shawn some lunch. He's been working overtime since the weather has gotten nicer. You know he's been putting everything extra into savings but you don't know why. You hope he isn't doing it to help you make the shop into a cafe, you told him you wouldn't accept his help on it and the only reason you'd take Tia's help is because she will be a partner.

The water is choppy, loudly slapping up against the undersides of the old wooden docks as you make your way down the hill and across the port. Shawn works in hangar two, on the far side. You can see dark skies on the horizon, a storm that's churning up the water. Hopefully it stays out there.

You wave to a few of the guys you know as you pass, men your father worked with when you were a kid. Just as you pass dock six you see a group of guys getting off of a boat. Usually this wouldn't catch your eye, people come and go every day, but one guy in particular has your attention. At first glance you thought it was Shawn, but you're not close enough and why would Shawn be on a freshly docked boat? You speed up, trying to catch up with the group before they disperse into the crowds of fisherman and workers near the hangar entrances.  No luck. The guy is lost in the sea of people. Maybe Shawn was just helping them fix something. You turn down the walk way and head for hangar two, if Shawn isn't there one of the guys will know where he went.

Hangar two is packed when you arrive. There is a ship up on risers being worked on and it looks terrible. If this thing sailed into port like this you're shocked they weren't towing it off the bottom of the harbor right now. You look around at the crew, defined by their blue work shirts that say dock crew on the back. There isn't a ton of actual crew but more fisherman than you can count.

"Hey! Cat girl!"

You whip around and glare at the direction the insult came from. You knew forgetting your headwrap was a mistake, especially when the docks are teaming with unfamiliar people. "Get fucked!" You shout and head for the office door at the back.

In the office there are a few of the upper management guys taking a break and you spot Bruce the manager of hangar two.

"Bruce, have you seen Shawn?"

The older man turns and smiles brightly. "Of course! He's on the port side welding a patch on the hull."

"Thanks!"

Bruce motions to the lunch bag you have in hand for Shawn. "No treats for me?"

"No, just for Shawn. Maybe next time? I'll make some cookies."

He laughs boisterously. "I'll hold you to it!"

You shake your head and smile before turning out onto the work floor and heading for the ship. If Shawn is welding that means he was not the guy out on the docks, so whoever you saw earlier was a strange look alike.

Sure enough Shawn is up on the scaffolding welding. You grab a pair of the tinted safety glasses and put them on before looking up to get his attention. "Hey!"

Shawn shuts down his torch and lifts his face guard. "Hey sweetheart. What's up?"

"Lunch." You lift the bag of food up for him. "Come down."

He puts his stuff aside and descends the scaffold carefully. "I was gonna go home for lunch. Bruce is giving me a half day since I've been working so much. He wants me to have some time away."

"Oh, I won't argue. We'd have the house to ourselves for a while."

Shawn wipes his hands on his jeans and tosses his welding gloves aside. "Sign me up." He wraps his arms around you and noses your ears. "It's about time we got some down time together."

"Check out with Bruce and we'll head home."

"Yes ma'am."

___________________

Nearly an hour later and you and Shawn are laid together on the couch at the pack house. You decided to change things up, to give him attention. So you have him laying between your legs and you put your hands in his hair. It's so thick and it feels longer since you first met but maybe it's just because you don't do this often.

"This is nice." Shawn purrs, rubbing his head back against your chest.

You scratch gently with your short nails and he groans, body becoming heavier as he melts into your body. "You like this? You like when I scratch your head?" You flex your fingers and he moans softly.

"I've never had this."

"What? No one has ever played with your hair?"

He shakes his head. "I always do the playing. I guess an alpha is expected to provide."

You snort. "That's some shit." You tug his hair gently and he growls soft and lovingly. "Alphas deserve to get as much as they give.”

Shawn turns over, rolling between your legs to lay with his face on your chest. "You're making me weak."

You giggle softly. "An alpha weak for a hybrid? Wow you must really like me."

"Iloveyou." He mumbles, rubbing his face against your boobs.

"Hmm?"

Shawn pulls back and looks up at you, face red from his groaning and rubbing. "I love you."

You cup his face and he crawls up so he is over you, face close to yours. "Y-you love me?"

He nods. "I've been trying to say it since we met but I've been worried about how you would take it. I know we've discussed the mate situation but saying it out loud is something entirely different."

"I love you too."

He leans in and presses his lips to yours. You giggle and he presses in harder, hands going to your hair. You wrap your arms around his back and grip, making him press down into you. Things get very heated after that, hips rolling desperately into each other and kisses traveling across your jaw to your neck.

Just as you're about to suggest going up to his room there is a knock on the front door. The sudden interruption makes your heart stop and everything feel cold. Shawn pushes up and looks to the door.

"Who is that?" He mumbles, crawling off of you. "Usually the others let me know if they're expecting a package."

You sit up and fix your shirt he had messed up with his hand under it. "Maybe it's someone who's lost."

Shawn pulls open the front door and you peer over the back of the couch. "Shit."

"Who-"

A man steps in and he looks just like Shawn, the spitting image of him like a clone just waltzed out of a lab. You have no doubt this is Shawn and Peter's other brother, Raul. He's got on a beanie and suddenly you realize that he is the guy you saw at the Port. He's the one you thought was Shawn getting off a boat.

"You're hard to find Shawn." Raul says and shrugs his coat off. "I just happened to come across Ryan and Lindsay and they told me where you were."

"What do you need?"

"My family." Raul pulls his beanie off and you let out a soft gasp that gets his attention immediately. He has ears just like yours but they're dark like his hair and much smaller and closer to his head than yours.

"Shawn, you didn't tell me he was like me."

Raul crosses the room and you both stare at each other intently, eyes raking over one another curiously. "She's your mate?"

"Yes, and Raul just didn't come up, I didn't think anything of it." Shawn walks over and stands very close, almost wary of his brother's gaze upon you.

"How?" You ask, looking between the two of them. "You and Peter aren't..." You reach up and run a hand over Shawn's head as if you could have missed them. "How?"

Raul reaches out and touches your ear, fingers gliding up the side delicately and you shiver, not hating the touch but also not entirely comfortable.  

Shawn stiffens up beside you.

"Our parents are an alpha and a hybrid. I got the hybrid and human genetics and the other two didn't. Luck of the draw I guess, it could have been much worse considering we're triplets. You're stunning by the way, I haven't seen many hybrids look as gorgeous as you."

"Thanks?" You step closer to Shawn as he wraps his arm around you and Raul pulls his hand away from your ear.

"Why are you here again?" Shawn asks, changing the subject.

"This." Raul lifts his sweater and reveals a large bandage around his middle. "Hunters tried to kill me in my apartment and I got away but a bullet got me in the side." He drops his shirt. "I figured being with my brother would be safer than being alone."

"Brothers. Peter is here too." Shawn says and Raul's face lights up. "He brought a wolf with him, but the rest of his pack was taken down by hunters as well."

"Everyone?"

"All but Tia, but she found Peter after the fact."

"Shit."

Shawn presses a kiss to your head. "You're welcome to stay, but keep the flirting to a minimum."

Raul grins and winks at you. "Of course I will. I'm just curious, it's been a long time since I saw another hybrid."

"Keep your curiosity to a minimum then." Shawn growls and wraps both arms around you. "Now excuse us, we're having some alone time."

Raul raises his hands and wanders off toward the kitchen. No doubt you and Shawn will just cuddle a while longer and then take a nap. You know Shawn won't take things further with anyone in the house, but that's fine, your mind is elsewhere where now.

____________________

Please send feedback in asks, replies or reblogs. Let me know if you’d like to read more of this story. Thank you so much -A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

[beyoncesdragon]

Over now (Sirius Black x Reader)

Requested: no

Warnings: it’s angst and sad (my English) 

Summary: Love always hurts at some point. Not always immediately, at least not with Sirius. But granted that at some point, love hurts. This is how it went.

My Masterlist 

Pt. 2 

Breakup’s are always hard for one person. One person always get’s let down. One person always ends up heartbroken in the end. Always. It doesn’t matter if you get married, the day will come where one dies. It also doesn’t matter if it’s a simple relationship, even if it lasts twelve years, because one will fall out of love. And it specifically doesn’t matter if it was just a stupid relationship over a few months. Unimportant how beautiful those months were; one person always gets hurt. And this person was not yet to be Sirius Black. But instead it was her, for good. The second Sirius told her that he felt like they were growing apart, a world went up in flames for her. She didn’t felt like they were growing apart, far from it actually. She just had told him the day before how much she loved him. Thinking back to this very moment, she felt stupid. Incredibly stupid to be honest. Stupid and blind, because she should’ve noticed the fact that he didn’t said it back this time, or that he looked away with a slightly pained look. He had always said it back up to this very moment, sealing it with a kiss or a peck. This time he had staid quiet, lips pressed together tightly, curled up into a half smile. She should’ve known, really. The next morning, he had been even weirder. Distant, cold and somehow distracted. Not really returning her kiss or her hug, only half-heartedly smiling at her. She had asked him what was on his mind if everything was alright. He had stopped mid-nodding and quickly pulled her into an empty classroom. And the second she saw his face, a bit pale but determined, uncomfortable but still confident, she knew. And it made her eyes glossy and her hands shake in fear. She had clinched to this last straw of hope that maybe, maybe he just had a problem with his family again. That he needed a favour, that he did something bad. But nothing of that. He said exactly what she feared he would and it pretty much ended her. She had gone to class after it. She had had no tears immediately after, only sickish gleaming eyes. With her head down she had dropped down on the seats the furthest back, avoiding any kind of eye contact or interaction with anyone. She had barely paid attention to what the Professors said and showed them. Her eyes were always glued on the parchment on the table or the shoulder of the student in front of her. She hadn’t skipped breakfast after and she hadn’t skipped lunch. If she would’ve, she knew that she would not be able to get up right away and ready for class. 

Then, after the last lesson of history of magic in the afternoon, she rushed upstairs and buried herself in her pillow and cried. She hadn’t said a word to her friends but they figured soon, when they found her like that as they tried to get her to dinner. That she skipped, also breakfast the next day. And if it wasn’t for her friends and quidditch training she would have skipped lunch as well and spend her free afternoon in her bed. Probably crying again, avoiding any kind of people. But she had training and it was important to her, she felt very honoured to be on the team as a chaser. Also, it would be like a temporary blindfold for her shattered love life, which was why her friends also pushed her to go. 

The sun had hid behind a thick layer of dark clouds as she approached the training pitch, just a day after her breakup, dragging her broom behind her though the grass. She felt drenched from all energy and strength and whished that she could just lay down and sleep a little. She had said exactly that to her best friend, who had immediately pulled her into a tight hug. She had carefully stroked her back and tried to comfort her as good as possible without triggering a cry. At the end, she had her convinced to slip into the red and gold training gear and leave for practice. And there she had been, a bit lost next to her team mates. As always when she was nervous or felt uncomfortable she drew circles on the top end of her broom, hoping no one notices how her mind wasn’t as wrapped around the heavy quaffle as usually. Unfortunately someone noticed it quite quickly; James Potter, who had already scored three times through the hoop in the middle and two times from an ungodly distance through the hoop on the left in the past half an hour (which was an absolute best and he was pretty stoked about it). Being characteristically observant he quickly caught on her little slips and untypical shaky hand. Maybe the way she seemed to be weirdly off-beat when she was passed the quaffle, or the three times she almost got palmed away by a bludger made him aware. Of course he knew her, they got along pretty damn well actually. And of course he knew about the breakup, but because of the fact that she appeared at practice he assumed that she was alright. As alright as maybe Sirius was, which was very well, but her being so off – maybe James had underestimated the whole thing. Light hazel eyes watched her attentively as she dove down, catching the quaffle last second before it hit the ground, only seconds before a whistle released them from training for today. It now had softly started to rain, making everyone run in a rush to the changing rooms. Maybe that’s why James failed to ask her about her well being again. However, James wasn’t the only one who caught a glimpse of her well masked suffering. Remus Lupin caught on to it too. He had seen the dull look in her eyes quite well, scaring and worrying him at the same time. He had liked her, he still liked her very dearly. A pretty lively person, bursting with sass and happiness, never failing to make fun of an awkward situation. That was also why Sirius had even laid his eyes on her the first time; they had bumped into each other, right in front of a open classroom. Sirius had accidentally emptied the whole content of his bag over her, including the ink pot. It had immediately stained all her notes from Professor Binns lesson beyond saving. Sirius had stopped dead on his tracks, a horrified expression on his face. He had waited for a scolding, a cry (and Sirius could not handle crying girls, it seemed to be the only thing that made him really nervous) or just a negative reaction. A reaction which would be totally appropriate, since it was entirely his fault that they even crashed into each other. Sirius had the habit of always coming around one to two minutes late which urged a quick sprint if he was running late for transfiguration. McGonagall was not having any of that late but worth the wait attitude at all. Incidentally the term “detention” and “late” had the very same meaning for her, which was why Sirius who was in detention almost all day every day, ran. Only for her lessons though, the other Professors had given up scolding him. His sprint to class also lead around a corner, just a few metres next to the door. Slithering around the corners, already preparing for pushing forwards he crashed full speed into her, knocking her over. As far as her reaction concerned him, she reacted pretty chill. Lifting the ink soaked parchment with her left thumb and index finger carefully before shrugging it away. Sirius had then started to stutter an apology, but she had waved it away and assured him that those weren’t really her notes. In fact, she had taken not a single note and just drew ink clouds and hippogriffs on her parchment. That had obviously lifted a rock in the size of Hogwarts off Sirius heart, and he had quickly helped her collecting all her loose notes and drabbles, books and nibs, quills and ink pot’s. After that little incident they had spoken more frequently in class. Soon she started to spend time with him outside of class, getting friendly with the rest of the Marauders. Lupin remembered well how he watched his friend slowly grow less interested in other girls and more and more in her. He had caught him eyeing her quickly during class, suddenly becoming very touchy with her. He had usually kept one arm on or around her shoulders, effectively chasing away possible other interests. Following the hands who brushed over each other seemingly by accident, were little pecks. On the cheeks, on the nose, on the front and knuckles. Sirius had been flirty and sometimes almost improperly cheeky with her, so much that James one day suggested that he (Sirius) should just grow himself a pair of proper balls and kiss her on the lips (and something with bloody coward). Whereupon Sirius had chased James through half of Hogwarts since he had said that pretty loud and she probably had heard him. Later on, Remus remembered being occupied with a book about the history of werewolf hunting, Sirius had sneakily tried to ask him if he should maybe really follow James’s advice. Remus had just nodded, not even looking up from his book. He knew that Sirius would or wouldn’t do it with or without his yes. Sirius asking him, was just Sirius being an overly informing drama queen, keen on sharing what was on his mind. Long story short, Sirius had kissed her that very evening and they had been inseparable since. That was until Sirius got a little closer to Lily’s best friend Marlene McKinnon. Marlene was beautiful with her cute curls and little nose, freckles and petite frame. Big doe eyes and puffy lips, a soft appearance. The very first time Sirius had met her, he wasn’t giving her any attention. He just wasn’t interested, he was only accompanying James during one of his attempts on asking Lily out. The first time he actually looked at her was when James and Lily had already went on their first date. He remembered being star-struck for a brief second before reminding himself that he was a taken man (or boy, how James always teased) and snapping out of it. But Marlene hadn’t left his head. He caught himself thinking about her sweet little giggles or the smirks and eye rolls they often exchanged over James and Lily’s behaviour. He caught himself comparing his girlfriend to Marlene and feeling bad afterwards – only because he seemed to crush harder on Marlene than before. He had hoped for the crush to only be temporary and disappear after a few days maybe, but he soon reached a point where he realised that he was no longer in love with the girl he was in a relationship with. And it hurt him to a certain degree because he felt how much she still loved him. He felt how much she still worshipped him and their relationship and he felt how much she trusted him. The last night they spend together, cuddling on one of the sofas in the common room she had told him again that she loved him; he wasn’t able to say it back and not lie. That had been the moment he had decided to end things with her. But not now, he couldn’t just break up with her over her I love you. Tomorrow, he had told himself, feeling a weird sort of nervousness creeping up on him. But he had to – it was only fair to her. And Sirius was not the one to cheat, especially not on her. After all she still was a person he loved dearly, just not in a romantic way anymore. She had fallen asleep on his chest, softly nosing the soft skin in the crook of his neck. He had felt like an absolute twat, an idiot for being that way to her. But he had broken up with her the next morning, leaving her alone in the empty classroom after telling her how he felt. Not the whole truth, he hadn’t told her about Marlene. But no matter what he had told her, he had left her alone.

Alone like now, where she watched how Sirius gave Marlene a little amused smirk before whispering something into her ear making her giggle. She gulped heavily, trying to push the memory of him giving her those looks out of her head. The piece of strawberry cheesecake suddenly lost all his appeal to her and she excused herself from her friends. Carefully raising up to her feet, she carefully avoided eye contact with her friends and rushed towards the doors of the great hall. Many knowing and therefore sympathetic eyes followed her on her way out. Also James and Remus watched her leave, their faces showing honest hurt and compassion towards her. The only ones who weren’t aware of her leaving were Sirius and Marlene. They were all giggles and loving eyes for each other and it would’ve been awfully cute if there wasn’t someone hurting about it. But as said, a breakup always hurts someone, doesn’t it? 

And Sirius Black was not yet to be the one.  

[oywiththefanfics]

The Merriest of Winchesters

** Rating - PG-13 Characters- Dean and Sam Winchester, You, Castiel

Let me know if you guys would want a part two! 

Dean stretched after climbing out of his Impala. His back, his knees, everything ached as if he hadn’t moved in days. He was looking forward to getting inside of Bobby’s old house and plopping himself down on a comfy bed. 

He glanced up at the house, as he always did before entering. It felt strange to be here when Bobby wasn’t. He and his brother, Sam, made a pact to never meet here again after they burned Bobby’s body. But Sam was insistent that they return for Christmas every year.

“Is it my turn to put up the tree this year?” Sam asked, unfolding himself from the front seat and grabbing his bag out of the back. 

Dean shrugged his shoulders and mumbled, “dunno.” before he walked up to the door and unlocked it with the key. 

Inside smelled... clean. It was as if it hadn’t been sitting empty for the last couple of months. Dean paused, trying to remember the last time that he or Sam had stopped by to gather supplies--or sleep. It had to have been back in August, back when he had that Washington demon case. 

Dean raised his hand to motion to his brother, his other hand reaching for his gun that he kept in his belt. Something wasn’t right. 

Sam stopped and dropped his bag, reaching for his own gun as Dean motioned for him to run around back and check out the place. Dean would take on the inside, the closed off spaces, so Sam would have a chance to get away if possible. 

Last time he set food inside, the place smelled of rain and mud, seeing as they almost never mopped the floors before leaving. The smell of roses and lavender filled his nose the further into the house he stepped. 

The lamp that sat on Bobby’s desk was on, shining bright as if somebody placed a new bulb in it recently. Something really wasn’t right. Somebody broke into this house, somebody was cleaning. Demons wouldn’t clean. Neither would a vampire or a werewolf--unless they were claiming the house for themselves... 

Dean kept his eyes wide as he slowly scouted the place, looking in every room downstairs before heading up, careful to miss that noisy stair close to the top. 

“Hello?” Dean called out, knowing that he was wasting time trying to be quiet. Whoever was in this house, it was most likely human. Someone wanting to squat for a little while, someone needing a place while the snow outside slowed down. 

No answer.

He kicked open the door to the old room that he and Sam shared once. Aiming his gun inside, he froze when his eyes landed on a small figure standing there, holding up a gun of her own, a messy bun on top of her head, and in an oversized Christmas sweater. 

“Whoa!” Dean didn’t know if he should drop his gun and hold up his hands or keep it aimed at her. She was so small, so fragile looking, he was afraid of hurting her. “Who are you??”

“Who are you?” She narrowed her eyes at him, her glasses sitting at the edge of her nose as if she had just jumped up and didn’t have enough time to push them back up. 

“I asked you first.” Dean grumbled. “Did you know Bobby?”

“I knew him.” She said confidently, holding her chin up high. “He took me in after my parents died.” 

Feeling a little better, Dean lowered his gun but still kept his grip on it. “Dean Winchester. Are you a hunter?” 

“Winchester...” Her eyes widened as if she knew that name. The handgun she was holding fell at her side, though she kept her finger on the trigger as well. Son of a bitch. You sure do get around.” 

He tilted his head to the side, unsure of what she meant by that comment.

“[Your name]. I only started hunting after the devil killed my parents.” She said, almost proudly. A little too proudly. 

It clicked after she said her name, though. He had heard of that name before. Lucifer had mentioned it, Bobby had mentioned it. It was common knowledge amongst hunters that the [your name]’s had once stood in the way of Lucifer and had died, though most hunters thought the child died as well. 

She smirked, knowing that Dean was standing there, trying to figure out the real story in his head. He was confused, he was wondering why Bobby never told him or Sam of the girl. 

“Yeah, that’s the reaction I get a lot.” She tossed her gun on the bed and glided over to the standing closet. She pulled a pair of leggings off a hanger. “I was supposed to die that night. He thought he killed me, too. Poor Luci was too cocky to check his own work and I made it out of there alive. Not without a few scars, though. Bobby found me, patched me up, explained to me what I had just been through, and I asked him to train me, I wanted to find and hunt the devil down.” 

Realizing he was still holding his gun, Dean quickly put it back in the holster and crossed his arms, watching the beautiful creature in front of him pull on the pair of leggings carefully, doing her best not to show off her goods in the process. He turned his head, letting her have some privacy. “And then we locked him in the cage.” Dean stated, wanting to know more of the story.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice carried from down the stairs. 

“Up here! It’s okay, Sam. Just a girl. Get your ass up here!” Dean called down.

She raised an eyebrow. “Both Winchester’s in one place? Last I heard, you two parted ways.”

“Yeah. well, things change.” Dean uncrossed his arms and made room for his brother, who appeared at his side, gun put away. He was panting, as if he ran miles. 

“Who...”

“We’ll catch you up over coffee. Who wants some?” She glided over to the door, motioning for the brothers to part.

++++++++++++++

Dean sipped on his black coffee, the warmth making his insides feel better after the scare from earlier. He was still concerned on why Bobby never told them about this girl, about how he adopted another child and trained her. Bobby didn’t like to train, he didn’t like kids. Then again, he did take in a young Sam and Dean.

She poured herself a second cup of coffee before sitting with her legs crossed on a foot stool by the fire that Sam had put on for everyone. “After you two caged Luci, I felt like I had no purpose anymore. I went to Bobby and asked if I could stay here, help him around the place and go on hunts with him, but he didn’t think I should put myself in danger anymore. He begged me to stop, but I couldn’t It’s who I was after that.” 

“I get that.” Dean commented, licking his lips and thinking back to all those times he tried to quit. For Lisa, for Ben, for Sam. Hell, it was the hardest thing to do.

“I had a big target on my back for a while, too. I turned my anger on the king of hell, Crowley. He was nothing compared to Lucifer, but he knew how to slip away.” 

“He does that.” Sam agreed. “But... Why are you here? Now? Why haven’t we ever seen you before?”

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve only ever actively gone to one other hunter before. His name was Rufus, and that was because Bobby told me they were best buds. Rufus helped me out with a few cases before he left me one night. After that and Bobby’s death, I just decided that it wasn’t any good to befriend a hunter.” She shrugged her shoulders. 

Again, Dean nodded his head in agreement with her. 

“I’ve always wanted to meet you two.” She sat her empty cup down and looked between both of them. “After seeing baby photos of the two of you around the house and all the stories. Bobby was so fond of you.”

Dean and Sam found themselves smiling at that thought. Dean always considered Bobby another father figure in his life. Probably more so than his own father. 

“I just... wanted something to be happy about this Christmas.” She sighed.

“Yeah...” Dean nodded. “Us too.”

“We have more to celebrate now.” Sam smiled. “There’s going to be four of us this year.” 

“Four?” She tilted her head.

“Castiel.” Sam jabbed his finger towards Dean. “Dean’s guardian.” 

“He ain’t no guardian.” Dean grumbled. “Just a friend.”

“Ohh.” She smirked. “The angel.”

++++++++++

Dean claimed the couch over the next couple of nights, seeing as she had the bedroom, Sam opted in for Bobby’s room, and there were no other beds in the house--except for the one down in the panic room. He wasn’t too keen on staying in there. 

It wasn’t so bad having a girl around. Dean liked listening to her hum classic rock and Christmas songs as she did tasks and hung up Christmas decorations. He loved to watch her struggle to get something done--like putting dishes on the top shelf. It always gave him a chuckle because she was just too short but refused to let him help her. 

Things between him and Sam hadn’t been too great this year, but with the extra company between them, Dean was starting to feel the tension lift. It didn’t feel like a chore to speak to him anymore. He didn’t like when things were like that, he wanted a relationship with his brother. They were all each other has. 

“When is Castiel showing up?” She asked one evening as they were putting up the Christmas tree. 

“He shows up whenever.” Dean shrugged his shoulders and put one of the many fishing baits on the tree. “He’s on some top secret mission we weren’t allowed to talk about.” Dean said a little mockingly. 

She giggled. Dean loved the sound. It was like little bells ringing through the air, giving him goosebumps. 

She stood up on her tip toes and placed a tree shaped air freshener on one of the branches. “Next year, I want a real Christmas tree. Like, a real one. I want to smell the pine cones and sweep up the needles every day...” 

“It would be nice to have my own house to put a tree up in.” Dean sighed, not meaning to say that out loud. He didn’t dare let anyone know how badly he wanted a normal life, how bad he wanted a white picket fence and his very own bed. 

“Someone to cuddle by the fire and watch Christmas movies with...” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. 

Dean looked up at her from the floor, which he was sitting on to finish the lower branches. She was so cute standing there in an oversized flannel and tight jeans ripped at the knees. The tank top she wore underneath tight around her waist, showing off her curves. “You know, we have a fire.” 

“And no one to hold me. Who am I gonna ask? The angel?” She rolled her eyes.

Dean felt a tinge of jealousy at the thought of Cas holding her. “I volunteer.” He said teasingly, just incase she found it offensive. 

“Ah,” she smirked. “I should have known I’d get an offer from Dean Winchester. I’ve heard those stories.”

“Stories?” Dean was genuinely confused.

She sat down on the arm of one of the chairs and shrugged. “From other hunters, even some demons. How you pull women in, seduce them, keep them for a night, and throw them away like they are nothing to you.” 

“Hey,” Dean stood up, his face growing hot at the thought of her rejecting him. No, it wasn’t the rejection. He realized it was the way she thought about him. “First of all, I don’t throw girls away. I make sure they’re okay with something short term.”

“Oh?” She rolled her eyes up at the ceiling and sat back, exposing a little bit of her stomach as the flannel fell on either side of her. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not like we can have anything normal anyway. There’s too much moving around... I tried dating a hunter a few years back, after Bobby died. He comforted me, told me he’d keep me safe. He got too attached and wanted to quit, start a family.”

“Wish we could some times.” 

“Be nice.”

Dean watched her for a second. “You know, my offer still stands about the fire.”

[ramble-writes]

Shitty Holidays

The idea for this is based from art @ywwywwy did of Frank at a table sitting on one end as his foster family is at the other. As for how Frank is, it’s this idea of Frank as a wolf because hey, why not? lol. So here it be!

-

There was light flakes of snow drifting within the wind outside. There was the squeals of two kids filled the house along with the gentle voices of a mother and a father trying to get their children to calm down. But... There’s a third, sitting quietly at the other end of the table as yellow eyes glance from the food on his plate to the chatty family on the other side of the table.

Frank Morrison, age 16, was sitting there as the family chatted away. Keen ears picked up a chuff of a dog under the table. Honestly, the dog being a German Shepard, was the only good thing out of this new foster family. Though at first he and the dog didn’t get along, it was a day alone he got to have the house to himself and, like usual, the dog would growl and bark at him every time he took one step outside. That ended quick when he had shifted and he established dominance.

That aside, the family themselves didn’t really pay attention to him. For sure when they agreed to have him that they were twitchy on the idea of his skull jester tattoo with flames and baseball bats. He found it cool. The previous couple was ok with him having one since they had tattoos like sleeves, on the legs, small ones, and various others. The only problem in the end with that family was the constant arguing and they fact that the two were having a divorce. That was two months ago and here he is with this family that were just iffy with him in general.

“Frank, are you going to eat?”

The voice made him jump a bit. He focused his gaze to the father looking at him as the mother does her best to calm down the two maggots. The brother kept trying to steal his sister’s food and she would throw her balled up napkin at him. Yellow eyes blinked as he got his mind back to the present.

“If you don’t eat up, you can go to your room.”

His “room” being what is the little girl’s room with a bed that at least he is left with sleeping propped up or with his feet hanging off the edge. Frank glances down to the food sitting there that he can smell is loosing its heat and how the strong scent is fading. He stifled the whimper that wanted to rise up. There’s no denying that he’s hungry, that the wolf deep down was starving. He just.. There’s too much moving around homes that he lost appetite. It doesn’t help that the mother took her time to make this dinner for Thanksgiving (second Monday of October), and he’s sitting here having not even touched it.

“Louis, leave him be. We only have him for a month or so till they can find better housing for him. Or if his parents-”

“They don’t want shit to do with me..” He couldn’t contain the slight growl to his voice. He hates it how every family he’s been with when they talk about the time they have with him that they mention “if his parents want him back.” Bullshit, he would say all the time. They left him for a reason. Over a stupid fuckin’ reason. So what if he’s a late shifter? They didn’t even bother with him further! Not his fault that also their marriage fell apart.

“Oi! Watch your language *garçon,” Louis said firmly. Frank didn’t know French, nor did he care. If it was an insult, fuck this guy. Fuck this. Fuck all of this. He’s sick and tired of the constant moving, families one moment saying they’ll take him in and then the next moment doing shit that hurts that either he calls up the foster home or the family does, blaming him for shit he didn’t do.

Frank stands up, slamming down the fork and knife in his hands down onto the table with a clatter. His breathing picked up, his jaw felt strained with feeling his teeth get bigger along with his body. It wants to expand, to let the wolf raging inside out to maul the stupid Frenchy.

“Yeah? Well you try being only 5 years old when your parents not only want you, but procced to go through a divorce as well that they throw you into foster care because of you! You try bouncing around home after fucking home from abusive families, from groomers, from cultists. You try going through a family who honestly wanted you and were denied of adopting you that it fucks you up.”

This made Louis stand up enraged with his face going red. “Go to your room!”

“That ain’t even my fuckin room!”

“Boys! Please calm down! It’s Thanksgiving and we should be happy and-”

The dog barked. A loud sharp one. Cheder, as the dog is named, stands and comes out from under the table with a growl. He sensed Frank’s anger and was ready to act on it. To protect him. This pissed off the man further.

“Cheder, come here.”

“I don’t think he wants to listen.”

“*Tais-toi. Cheder. Come. Here.”

The German Shepard still didn’t move. He just walked backwards to stand next to Frank. Pack mentality. In all honesty, he and the dog did grow to have a bond with the time he’s been here ever since shifting. Boy, Frank couldn’t help the shit-eaten grin that spread across his face.

“That’s it. I’ve had it with your attitude! We’ve tried being nice to you and-”

“Nice?! Ha! You did nothing but ignore me! You didn’t do shit to stop Cheder from snapping at me the first few times he was inside the house! When it came to shopping for clothes for school you picked out shit for me! You let Maggie and Wayne pick out their outfits, but didn’t let me do shit. We won’t get on the topic of the tattoo, but oh how I fuckin hate it when you won’t even look at me when you talk to me like a fucking man.”

This made everyone go quiet. Even Cheder. Maggie looks to her father with tears pricking at the corner of her eyes.

“Papa.. I’m scared...”

Louis hushed her gently, but by this point Frank had enough. With a scoff, he turned on his heel and headed for the back door to the backyard. He needed to run, get it out of his system. He could hear Louis mutter about calling the Alberta Foster Care to get him in the morning, but again, he didn’t care. He heard the mother coming after him, calling his name as he headed out into the cold night. He knew Cheder followed, but over the fence the dog couldn’t.

Frank didn’t care that he heard the mother become frantic quick at seeing him hop the fence. Once up and over, he broke out into a run, wanting to get far from them. Wanting to get as deep as he could before shifting mid run. Dark brown fur took over what was once fair skin was along with a lighter tone underside. Two legs and arms popped and changed to being four legs and paws as big as his hands. Everything from his chest, shoulders, thighs, and head enlarged. Face extended out to a muzzle and a wet nose. Every human tooth grew and sharpened to that of a wolf as the final touches of ears and tail sprouted.

There standing in the place of where a boy was, was a Brown Timber wolf, but bigger due to him being a werewolf than a shapeshifter. Fully formed, Frank wasted no time sprinting deep into the forest till it was just him and the surrounding trees with what little snow flakes got through the thicket of the pine branches. Out here, he’s free. Far from the grasp of any human, far from the grasp of the foster system. It’s out there where the wind blew through his fur that he felt better with the cold nipping at the pads of his paws and his nose, the breeze making him blink a few times over. It’s out there where he spent the rest of the night, curled under some upturned roots of a tree.

By morning, he woke to the sound of his name being called. Multiple voices ranging from male to female. Some he even recognized as the trees made their voices echo down to where he is. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to go back. But fate isn’t his to decide. With a sigh, Frank stood up and shook himself out and stretched before shifting back to himself. A sigh left him as he made his way towards the voices.

The person assigned to helping him find a foster family was there, the parents Louis (reluctantly) and Hanna were there along with an officer or two. Upon seeing him, Hanna just rushed at him and pulled him in for a tight hug. He didn’t reciprocate it. The adults talked as they headed back to the house. He wasn’t surprised to see all his stuff packed up.

Not a word was spoken as Frank grabbed it and headed out to the waiting running car. In an instant, Cheder came rushing out after him with loud whines and practically shoved his head into Frank’s stomach. This made him sigh as he bent down to pet the dog, lowering his head to place on Cheder’s with a hand going through thick fur. If he could, he would’ve taken Cheder with him. But he can’t. It was like the German Shepard knew his thoughts because the dog backed away despite still whining, then turned to head back into the house with head and tail low.

There was no goodbyes as he got into that car to head back to the foster home, no glances back. Nothing. The person that drove tried to ask him questions on what happened, but he didn’t answer, didn’t want to as his eyes watched houses change as they made their way back to the major town of Alberta. Frank was just tired of all of this, tired of the changes and faces he doesn’t bother to remember. Sleep sounded like the better option for now. Getting himself as comfortable as possible, he let his eyes drift shut with the cold window to his forehead, letting himself let go and doze off with not wanting to think what the next family would be like.

[when-they-write-stuff]

If you're still taking prompts #1 There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close pleaseeeeeeeeee

The night was supposed to have turned out differently. Once upon a time, literally less than a few hours ago, Stiles had a plan. One that totally didn’t involve wooing Derek Hale, except maybe it did.

But then everything went wrong.

“Hey, Derek,” Stiles said, glancing over. “Remember that one time you decided to visit the pack at college, I warned you there were hunters around, and you said it’d be fine anyway?”

Derek shot Stiles a glare as they ducked out of sight, the rest of the pack having split up hours ago. Stiles smirked back, pretty sure he did.

The crowded streets of New York were not where Stiles had been expecting to spend his night but then Scott had suggested they go out to eat, the rest of the pack had agreed, and Stiles had been the first one to realize they were being stalked by hunters.

“Because I do,” Stiles said. “I remember very specifically telling you no. But do you ever listen? Oh, of course not. It’s just Stiles, after all.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“I’m just staying,” Stiles said, waving a hand through the air. “Maybe if you started listening to the token human more often, you’d know better than to go out as prime bait for a bunch of hunters.”

“They won’t do anything in public.”

“Have you never seen any movies, dude? A knife stuck in the gut coated in wolfsbane and you’ll be dead before you can react. And they’ll be gone before we can stop them.”

“Glad to hear you care.”

“I don’t care,” Stiles grumbled. “I just don’t want to have to explain to my dad why I let his favorite deputy get killed on his paid vacation to New York city.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“You said that already.”

“Well, it looks like I’m saying it again.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, glancing around. “Where are we going? Do you have a plan to meet up with the others?”

“Once we lose the hunters, we’ll double back to the university.”

Stiles started to glance backward but a firm hand on his shoulder had his eyes snapping back over the Derek. The man gave him a warning look and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Fine, fine, I’m not looking. How do you know where we’re going anyway?”

“I used to live here.”

Stiles’s stomach flipped. He’d forgotten about that. It seemed like so much of their lives had been spent running around Beacon Hills, but Stiles supposed only his was. Derek, on the other hand, had managed to escape at one point. Until he got dragged back into it all again, that was.

Derek gave him a disgruntled look. “What are you thinking about?”

“What? Nothing.”

“Your scent is doing something weird.”

Stiles gave him an amused look, crooking up and eyebrow and Derek rolled his eyes. His grip on Stiles’s shoulders had never left and suddenly, he tightened it, yanking Stiles off the sidewalk and into the nearest… bar, he realized. Stiles made a noise of protest, nearly losing his balance, and Derek moved his grip to cup the back of Stiles’s neck, righting him out again.

“Come on,” Derek said, moving toward the bar. Stiles’s mind spun.

The man behind the counter straightened as Derek approached. For a moment, he looked downright murderous and Stiles tensed, trying to backpedal against Derek’s grip. But then the man broke out in a wide grin and lowered the glass he was cleaning, throwing open his arms.

“Hale!”

That was… new. Stiles stopped struggling and let Derek lead him around the counter and the other man moved over and… actually hugged Derek. Like a normal human being. Like friends who hadn’t seen each other in a couple of years or something.

Derek just grunted. The man barked a laugh.

“Still vocal as ever, I see.”

“Carlos, I need you to get us into the back room.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, stepping back. His eyes snapped Derek to Stiles and then back, and he looked curious for a moment. Stiles barely kept his eyes from flicking toward the bar door, but then the man nodded and led them out of sight.

Stiles could have melted in relief.

Except his mind was still spinning; Derek actually knew other people. At some point during his life, he had clearly been here. Making friends. Maybe even laughing with this… Carlos dude.

He led them out of the main bar area and into a large room filled with kegs, bottles, and a back door. Carlos turned around then, arms crossed, and studied Derek.

“What’s this all about, Hale? I haven’t seen you or your sister in years.”

“Laura’s gone,” Derek said, jaw clenched. Carlos’s face dropped.

“What? I’m sorry to hear it.”

“I’m not back in the city for very long.”

Carlos’s eyes snapped sideways, searching Stiles up and down. Stiles shifted from foot to foot, trying not to fidget, and then Carlos glanced back. “You in some kind of trouble?”

“No.”

“Really? Not even with werewolf stuff?”

Stiles went stock-still. Carlos noticed his reaction and barked a laugh.

“So that’s what it is then.”

“Hunters,” Derek said quietly. “I don’t know if they followed us in here or not. I’m sorry to come into your territory unannounced, but—”

Carlos waved a hand through the air. As Stiles watched, the man’s eyes flickered to gold and he caught a hint of fang. “Hunters in here come and go. I’ll take a look and tell you if it’s safe to leave yet, alright?”

Derek nodded silently. The man clapped him on the shoulder before leaving the backroom again and Stiles just stared in shock.

Slowly, he turned to look at Derek. The man was avoiding his gaze. “Dude.”

“What.”

“He’s a werewolf.”

“Yes.”

“Who owns a bar.”

Derek gave him a flat look. “Werewolves have jobs too, Stiles. What do you think we do?”

“I dunno, dude! Before I found out about your family vault, I thought maybe you just magically had money all the time or something. I mean you drive a Camaro!”

Derek flinched. Stiles instantly felt bad, biting down on his lower lip.

“So you know him?”

“I used to work as a bartender here.”

Stiles blinked and Derek fixed him with a flat look again, arms folded over his chest. After a moment, Stiles shook his head. “Sorry. I’m totally not surprised or anything but uh, he knew Laura too?”

“This is a werewolf owned bar. It’s supernatural friendly.”

“Is that a thing?”

“Hunters don’t start fights here. Even those without a code know better than to break certain states of peace. Carlos will make sure they’re gone and then we’ll go out the back door.”

Stiles studied his face. Then nervously licked his lips. “This isn’t the first time you’ve done this before.”

“Sometimes we would get certain people in trouble.”

“Not just werewolves?”

Derek looked away, obviously not keen on the conversation. Stiles nodded silently and shifted again, glancing back toward where Carlos had vanished. He chuckled lightly.

“You made friends, big guy.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re not all grumps and growls.”

“I have friends, Stiles.”

Stiles snorted. Derek gave him a look and the smile melted from his face. “Of course you do, Sourwolf. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He thought the man’s face softened. But then Derek just rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Liar.”

“You’re a thorn in my side.”

“A tender one.”

Derek’s eyes flickered and Stiles felt his face turn hot. But before he could say another word or possibly make things worse, Carlos came back into view again, wiping his hands off on a dishtowel.

“All clear, Hale.”

Derek nodded once and turned toward the back door, but Carlos caught him by the shoulder before he could make his escape. The man went stock-still and slowly turned around.

“You’re okay out there, right, Hale?”

Derek nodded once. Carlos glanced over at Stiles.

“You’ve found a pack?”

Derek let a little bit of red bleed into his eyes in answer. Carlos straightened and then nodded, a slightly fond look crossing his face.

“So Laura’s spark went to you then.”

“Eventually.”

If Carlos was confused at that, he didn’t show it. Instead, he just smiled and let go of Derek’s shoulder. “You take care of yourself out there, Hale. And take care of your pack.”

Derek nodded once before moving away again. Stiles hesitated for a moment before following. The door closed behind them, cutting off the sounds of the bar and welcoming the night air. Stiles glanced over at Derek but the man didn’t say a word, eyes fixed on the end of the alleyway.

“Derek—”

“Let’s circle back to the dorms.”

Stiles clenched his jaw but followed. They only made it to the where the alley met the sidewalk, though, before Derek was yanking him back again and then shoving him against the wall.

Stiles squeaked and Derek clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes turning red. Going stock-still, Stiles didn’t move as the man slowly turned his head and the sound of voices filtered through the night.

Stiles recognized them from earlier. The hunters.

He swallowed hard as Derek pulled his hand back a couple of inches.

“Derek.”

Derek looked back at him and Stiles swallowed hard. For a moment, with the faint voices in the air and Derek pressed up against him, it was all Stiles could do to try and not let his heart skip more than one beat. But he must have failed because Derek’s eyes sparked again.

Nervously, Stiles wet his lips. Derek’s gaze dropped straight down.

Then the voices got closer.

Derek glanced over his shoulder once more and then cursed, turning back forward. Before Stiles could say a word, the man was pinning him to the wall and— and Stiles’s brain short-circuited from there.

Because suddenly, Derek’s lips were on his own. The man was kissing him. Stiles startled and then melted into it. Derek’s hands came up to cup his face and Stiles whined at the back of his throat, turning his chin up a little more.

When Derek growled, the sound vibrated straight down Stiles’s spine. Gentle lips moved down his neck, Derek’s nose brushing past the top of his sweatshirt, and Stiles couldn’t help whatever kind of noise that left his mouth. Then the man’s teeth skated back up Stiles’s neck, lips brushing over the shell of his ear before pressing against Stiles’s own again, and he was pretty sure he was about to collapse.

He didn’t even hear the voices of the hunters anymore. His heart was definitely not beating right.

But then suddenly, Derek was pulling back. Stiles blinked a few times, feeling a little dazed, and then moved forward again, trying to catch the man’s lips once more. But Derek turned his face away.

“They’re gone. Walked straight past.”

And it was like Stiles had been doused in cold water.

His face turned bright red and he moved back to fast, he slammed right back into the wall. Derek gave him a startled look but Stiles just stared at him in surprise. Then anger.

“Seriously, Derek?”

“What.”

“What the hell was that!”

“A distraction.”

Stiles stiffened. He stared at Derek for a long moment and then tried to shove past, but Derek’s caught his arm. Stiles started to whirl around, a dozen curses forming on his tongue, but then Derek flashed his eyes.

“They could still be close by.”

“So what, are we just going to squat in this alleyway for the rest of the night?”

Derek clamped his mouth closed, the red fading from his eyes. Stiles shoved him back, yanking his arm away.

“Next time, don’t use me as a distraction, Derek.”

The man’s brows furrowed. “What?”

Stiles glared at him for a long moment. Then he raised his jaw and stepped closer. “Kiss me again.”

“Stiles—”

“I told you earlier to start listening to the token human more often,” Stiles said, his heart thudding against his chest. But dammit, this night was supposed to have had turned out differently. Once upon a time, literally less than a few hours ago, Stiles had a plan.

One that totally didn’t involve wooing Derek Hale. Or maybe it did. Maybe it did and then hunters had come along and ruined everything.

“I was going to kiss you first tonight, Derek,” Stiles said. “And not as a damn distraction.”

The man’s eyes flickered. He looked terrified.

“So this,” Stiles said. “Is a worthwhile situation. The hunters could still be out there. I had all the moves planned. None of it involved dark alleyways or possible knifings, but—”

And Derek was moving again. Pushing him back against the alleyway wall and shutting Stiles up the best way possible. Stiles closed his eyes, carding his hand through the man’s hair.

And Stiles well… Stiles had a plan. This was most certainly not it.

But he blamed the hunters, Derek Hale’s stubbornness, and if it got Stiles a make-out session in a dark alleyway, he was so going for it. Derek pulled back for a moment, taking a growling breath, and Stiles grinned.

“Oh my god, I’ve got so many good bartender jokes, you don’t even know—”

Derek just rolled his eyes and kissed him again. Stiles grinned around his lips, more than a little content. Because yeah, this wasn’t to plan. But he was okay with it.

Very okay.

- -

I always love a good ‘kissing to get out of bad situations’ prompt and I just had to go for it. I had so much fun with this one, you’re too fantastic, Em! Thank you for the prompt <3

(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your struggling student writer? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

[falseroar]

Is This Your Card? Part 1: The Invitation

((Hi! This is the first part of another story in what I’m calling the Traces of Silver series, a WKM Werewolf/Monster Hunter AU. This story in particular is a retelling of Who Killed Markiplier, with a few twists along the way to match the AU. And it all starts with one last job and an invitation.

The POV will swap between Abe (third person) and Y/N (first person) every couple of chapters. Oh, and if I tagged you in this and you’re not interested, or I missed your username, or you want to be tagged, or whatever, just let me know. (Edit to add: While it’s not a main focus of the story, there are definitely hints of Abe/DA.)

Warnings, mostly for later chapters: References to death and suicide (off screen for the most part), language (nothing worse than from the original videos), dark themes, and yeah, no happy ending for this particular story.))

Abe nearly missed the sound of footsteps on the dirt road under the steady whine of cicadas enjoying one of the last warm nights of the year, and if not for the cloudy night he might have been spotted before he could duck into cover behind the nearby tree. Peering out, he watched with narrowed eyes as the figure moved with purpose down the road, a long cloak hiding any of the few details he could have hoped to make out in the waning moonlight. At this hour, few would have dared to be walking alone on the road so far from the village, but he hesitated, waiting for any sign that this was the one he had been waiting for.

He couldn’t make that mistake again in one night.

For a moment, he thought the figure would continue on its way, but at the mailbox they abruptly stopped and turned toward the short drive that led up to the farmhouse on the hill. In the time it took the figure to draw back her hood, revealing pale skin and light hair that shimmered in the moonlight, and take in a deep breath, he had already cleared the distance between them.

“Excuse me, miss—”

She screamed.

Even with his hands over his ears, there was no blocking out her wail, a bright and eerie keening that sent a shiver down Abe’s spine and wrenched his heart even as it threatened to burst his ear drums.

And then, abruptly, it stopped, and he risked opening one eye to see the banshee press her hands to her mouth, face darkening with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry! You scared me!”

At least, that’s what Abe thought she said, but it took a few more seconds before the ringing started to clear up, his own voice muffled as he muttered, “We…need to talk.”

A few minutes later and Abe’s hearing was mostly back as he stood in the living room of the farmhouse, eyes darting back and forth between Farmer Jim or Joe or whatever he was and the banshee seated opposite him.

“That’s all you want?” Abe asked again, to be sure.

The banshee nodded. Here, indoors and in normal lighting, she seemed that much more ethereal and out of place, not helped by how she sat primly as though unwilling to touch anything around her. “If the farmer will keep his cows in his field, I will stop the wailing.”

“Well, you could have just said something,” the farmer muttered. “Not like that pond belongs to anyone, I don’t see what the big deal is—”

“It is not your land,” she said, again. “And I do not like the look of that brown cow, the one with the spot on its nose and the evil in its eyes.”

Abe started to point out how ridiculous that sounded, but the farmer just nodded and said, “Yeah, that’d be Abigail. Been meaning to ask Father Richard around to take a look at that one.”

“And I did try to tell you, but my kind cannot pass the wards around your land without permission, and you just kept running away at the sight of me. It was very rude.”

“Oh, and standing outside a man’s house, wailing away his death sentence is that much better?”

Abe sighed. “For the last time, a banshee’s wail isn’t fatal, it’s just a warning.”

“A portent of misfortune or death,” she added. “For the record, you may want to stop climbing on top of your house and hire someone else to fix your roof. That’s not part of the deal, just general advice.”

The farmer sighed, sinking in on himself a little. “Yeah, that’s what my daughter keeps saying. I’ll go into the village in the morning and see if I can’t find someone to fix that along with the fence. Maybe I can keep some help around for longer than a week without someone scaring them off every other night.”

“Thank you,” the banshee said, springing up as though eager to leave. “I am glad to hear the others will not have to get involved.”

The farmer paled slightly, looking from her to Abe. “Wait, what others?”

She just smiled, which did little to set him at ease and probably explained the gratitude in the farmer’s voice as he turned to Abe and shook his hand.

“Thank you, hunter. I’m…not sure where I would be without your help. God, it’s going to be good to get some sleep again. How can I possibly repay you?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a cure for lycanthropy hanging around, would you?” Abe asked. “Maybe know anyone around who…”

He stopped when he saw the look the old farmer and even the banshee gave him and coughed.

“Or money. That works too.”

Outside, Abe felt the weight of the farmer’s money in his pocket and the stare of the banshee, who followed him to the road before speaking again.

“Thank you from me as well, hunter.”

“It was just a job,” Abe said with a shrug. Not a typical one, he’d admit, but these days he wasn’t sure what counted as ‘typical’ anymore. “I didn’t even have to do that much, but don’t tell him that.”

“Still, I apologize for wailing at you earlier. I know that it is not a pleasant sound, but…” She paused, her inhuman eyes staring a little too intently into Abe’s face for his liking. “Death seems to shadow your steps, hunter, even if it never seems to touch you.”

“Yeah, like this is the first time I’ve heard that one.” Abe tried to sound nonchalant, despite the pang at her words. She couldn’t know how true they felt some days.

“I feel I should warn you to be careful. There is something terrible coming, if you stay on your current path.”

“Do you mean the road back to the village, or…?”

Abe was only half joking, but the banshee just stared at him with something that looked close to sadness before turning and walking away.

He thought he would have preferred it if she just stuck to the wailing, all things considered.

Back at the cheap room he’d rented in the village, Abe took off his coat and hat, tossing both aside with a groan before sitting down on the foot of the narrow, rickety bed which gave a groan of its own. He stretched and hissed at a few aches and pains from his other recent jobs which hadn’t been as simple as standing around in a field to arrange a meeting. There was the griffin in the clocktower, that basilisk down by the coast—or had that been the circus who thought they could actually hire him to get their selkie back? It all started to blend together, the utter nonsense of it all, mixed with the rare moment when he would be pulled in to deal with a real monster, that exhilarating blend of terror and the thrill of the hunt.

A thrill that soon faded, leaving him here in a room identical to all the others, along with his pain and a paycheck. And so very, very tired.

Abe sighed, rubbing his bleary eyes with the back of his hand, and looked for the bottle he had left himself earlier only for his eyes to land on the elaborate invitation resting on top of its envelope where he had tossed it aside.

You’ve been cordially invited to Poker Night at Markiplier Manor.

Just a small get together, Mark had insisted the other night when he pressed the invitation into Abe’s hand. Dinner and some games with his most trusted friends, and Abe had barely managed to keep a straight face at being described like that before telling Mark he had another client already lined up and waiting for him. This close to the city, to the memories of what happened the last time he was here, left him wanting to get out before he did something stupid. Like give too much thought to how easy it would be to stop by their office, check in and see how they were doing this close to the full moon—

“Oh, come on, Abe,” Mark had said, his tone wheedling. “I know the life of a monster hunter is busy and no doubt glamorous, but perhaps you could spare a day or two for some time off and, dare I say it, a bit of fun? Life is for the living, so live a little!”

Abe had brushed him off with a noncommittal “see what I can do,” but now, sitting here and looking at the invitation with the banshee’s words still in his head, the thought of stepping away from it all and taking some time to relax and unwind sounded more than a little tempting.

Maybe a party was just the thing he needed.

((End of Part 1. Hoping to post a chapter a day until it’s done, but we’ll see.

Link to Part 2.

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate @missksketch ))

[ericsonclan]

A Visit to the Library

Summary: It's a quiet day at the library for Santiago, the librarian mothman, when a surprise visitor comes a'knocking.

Word Count: 1664

Read on AO3:

It was a quiet day in the library. Usually each period had at least a few students using their study hall to cram for a test or research their latest project, but the post-break blues must be hitting everyone pretty hard since there hadn’t been anyone except the occasional student dropping off overdue books and it was almost noon. Santiago eyed the clock suspiciously, wondering if that was really the time. He’d reset the clocks himself come daylight savings, but still… checking his phone though, he confirmed that it was indeed almost lunchtime.

Absentmindedly munching on his sleeve, the librarian wondered to himself how much of that bag of flour was left in the break room. He’d heard it was up for grabs and it was sure to make a tasty snack. Pausing mid-munch, Santiago looked down at his sweater in horror, realizing he’d nibbled yet another hole into his sweater. Tutting to himself, his antennae twitching in annoyance, Santiago tried his best to stretch the fabric around the hole to hide it better. There was a pretty significant chunk missing; it was no use. Sighing, Santi let his chin fall into his hands. This was his favorite sweater. He really didn’t want to eat it beyond the point of recognition.

A turning doorknob had Santiago’s antenna thrumming at the sound, the hairs on his wrists standing up as he looked over curiously to see what student had come begging a late fee be waived this time. Instead it was not a student at all, but an adult. Santiago adjusted his glasses, squinting with interest at the fine specimen in front of him. He’d seen this man at faculty meetings before but their paths hadn’t crossed yet. He was the PE teacher and also the coach of one of the school teams, Santi couldn’t remember which.

The man glanced round the library, looking lost, then his eyes met Santiago’s. “Oh, hi there. You’re the librarian right, Mr. Gutierrez? I noticed a bunch of books on top of the lockers in the boys changing room and figured I would return them,”

“Thoughtful of you, but you shouldn’t have,” Santiago came out from behind the desk to help the man with the books. “Usually I just let those books sit up there till the end of the school year then when the students clean out their lockers and are forced to finally return them I really hit them with the late fees,”

“How passive aggressive of you,” the coach replied with a wry smile.

Santi shrugged. “It’s the little things in life that bring the most joy. Besides, late fees go toward the budget for new books. Thank you regardless for the gesture, Mr…”

“Garcia. You can call me Javi though,” Javi offered his hand, shaking Santi’s firmly.

“Santi,”

“Nice to officially meet you. I never really see you outside the library,”

“What need is there for other pursuits when I have books?” Santiago shrugged, a sardonic smile upon his face. He looked down at the titles of the returned books. “Hmmm, some of these have been gone for quite some time. I remember getting them down for the students too. They belong up on the shelves in the back,”

“I could get them up there if you need help. I have pretty long arms,” Javi offered.

Santiago gave him a quick once over. “Indeed. Well, I’m certainly not one to turn down help. To the forbidden recesses of the library we go!” With that he turned on his heel, leading the way. He called it this section “the forbidden recesses” whenever someone needed something back there simply to spice things up. Truthfully, this section didn’t look that much different from all the others, neat and tidy and well dusted. Santi was a fastidious duster when it came to the shelves even though the dust brought out his allergies. Stopping in front of the appropriate bookcase, he pointed to the top shelf. “The first volume goes right there,”

“Right. Uhhh…” Javi looked upwards, thinking through his options. Grabbing a chair, he stepped on top of it and stretched to his full height, trying to get the book in place. Santiago leaned back against the bookshelf across from him, admiring Javi’s determination. And the view. When Javi successfully tipped the book into place his tail began to wag in glee.

Santi bit his lip. So cute.

“I did it!” Javi declared, smiling proudly. “Where does the next book go?”

“Two bookcases over, second shelf from the top. Though in the name of complete transparency, I must admit that there actually is a ladder for the top shelves,” Santiago pointed over to the ladder itself, tucked snugly between two bookshelves.

“Oh. That makes sense. Shoulda known there was something round here to stand on besides chairs,” Javi scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“The fault is mine. I was having my fun seeing what you would do without one, but I don’t want you finding out about the “secret” of the ladder later and hating me for it,”

Javi jumped down from the chair. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. You pranked me, that just means I’ll have to get you back later,” His grin caused Santiago’s wings to flutter open slightly before the mothman closed them again sharply, clearing his throat with an awkward cough. “I look forward to seeing what you’ll try. I have fairly keen senses, you know. My antennae have never led me wrong,”

“Neither has my nose,” Javi took a step forward. Santiago wondered if he was going to try something but instead the werewolf merely picked up the book he had been reaching for. “Two bookcases over, second shelf from the top, right?”

Santiago blinked in confusion. “Yes, but now that I’ve revealed the ladder I’ve shown myself perfectly capable of putting these away on my own,”

“Eh, I don’t mind helping out. I have a free period,”

Seeing the carefree smile on Javi’s face, Santi couldn’t help but return it in kind. “Alright. We’ll make it a team effort then,”

---

There were about a dozen books that Javi had brought in from the locker room. One by one the pair made their way through the library, Javi carrying the ladder and climbing it to place each book in its proper place while Santi carried the stack of books and directed Javi on where each one should go. It didn’t take them long before each book was safely tucked away and Santiago found himself searching for a reason to get Javi to stay just a bit longer.

“Have you ever perused the shelves of our fine library yourself?” he asked, looking up at Javi as he made his way down the ladder one final time.

“Can’t say I have. I’ve never been a big reader though I did used to read at the senior center on Saturdays way back in my high school days,”

“May I be so bold as to offer a reading suggestion?”

“Be my guest,”

“Come with me then,” Santiago guided Javi to the fantasy section. There he pulled out a worn-down copy of Alice in Wonderland. “This is a personal favorite of mine. I’m sure you’ve seen the film so you should be able to follow the general gist of the story, but experiencing the original prose itself is another experience entirely,”

“Oh yeah! I did see the cartoon a couple times. It’s pretty fun,”

“I gave you one of our older copies too, so you don’t need to worry about damaging it,”

Javi chuckled. “Is it that obvious how clumsy I am? Seriously though, that’s really thoughtful of you,”

“Do you have a library card?”

“Oh, right. Guess the one for my community library won’t work, huh?” Javi flashed Santi a charismatic smile.

“Tragically, no. I’ll get you signed up,” Santiago headed back over to the main desk to pull up the forms for a new library card. His ploy hadn’t bought him much time, only a few minutes really, but he enjoyed them nonetheless. It had been quite a while since he’d last met a man who made his wings flutter the way Javi did. Even if it was only light flirting, it was nice to shake off the metaphorical cobwebs of his social life if only for a moment. “And with that,” Santi said, stamping the library card before handing it to Javi, “You’re all set,”

“Thanks! Also, just in case it comes up…” Javi continued, fiddled with the corner of his newly-borrowed book, “Is there a number I should call in case of emergency?”

“…Excuse me?”

“Y’know, like if I lose the book or leave it by my stove and accidentally set it on fire… so I can pay for a new book of course!”

“Well if the book’s on fire you should probably call the fire department, but if it just gets lost, you can call the main school number and they’ll redirect you to the library,”

“Oh, ok,” The wolf ears on Javi’s head deflated just a little.

Santi looked over at Javi curiously. He hadn’t meant… had he? “And just in case of an extra serious emergency…” he grabbed a sticky note and scribbled upon it, “Here is my personal cell number. Call me any time, night or day, and I’ll make sure all your needs are fulfilled. Book needs,” Yeah, Santi. Real subtle.

Javi’s face lit up as he received the number, his tail wagging at a slightly faster pace. “Awesome! Then I’ll call you sometime- about books! Or I’ll see you when I drop this one off after finishing it,”

“I’m always here, never anywhere else,” Way to sell yourself, Santi.

“Alright, see you then… bye!” with a final wave Javi was off, walking through the library doors with his tail wagging excitedly behind him.

Santiago watched him go, finally letting his wings spread and flutter with excitement. Had he just landed a date?

[440mxs-wife]

In the City

Supernatural meets Law and Order, Part Two

You climbed back into Briscoe and Logan's cruiser and headed to the crime scene. This time, it wasn't the park, but a neighbor's backyard that had the familiar yellow tape around it. The three of you walked up to Scott Rivers, the on-scene tech to get the facts of the case as he knew them.

"What's the story here?" Briscoe asked.

"Same as before, claw marks, heart torn out and looks like the body was dragged here from actual kill site," Rivers answered as he looked you up and down. "And who might you be?" he asked appreciatively.

"Mackenzie Reed, I'm a consultant hired to work on this case," you murmured as you walked around the scene. This was looking less and less like a werewolf attack to you, and more like something else, especially given the time of day. "Dammit. This is not good. Not good at all," you muttered.

You walked over to where Briscoe and Logan were standing with the tech, Rivers. "I think I've seen all I need to see, fellas. The rest can wait until we get the M.E.'s report," you declared. You got into the cruiser's back seat and Logan drove back to the station. Lennie bid you and Logan a good night and said he'd see you both in the morning.

"So, where are you staying?" Logan asked as you switched to the front seat.

"I was going to find some motel and hole up there till Sam and Dean got into town," you answered.

"Nah, don't do that. You can stay at my place," Logan offered.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea, Mike. I have a boyfriend, you know. I really don't think he'd be too keen on me spending the night in my ex-boyfriend's apartment," you explained.

"He knows we're still friends, right?" Logan asked.

"Yes," you responded.

"He trusts you, right?" Logan persisted.

"Me? Yes. You? Big fat negatory, Ghost Rider," you replied.

Logan chuckled. "Come on. I promise nothing will happen. We'll order some Chinese food from that place you love, we'll swap war stories, then we'll go to sleep. In separate beds," he added.

"Fine. You in your room, me on the couch," you declared.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

An hour later, you and Logan had arrived at his apartment. You dug out your pajamas and your toiletries, then asked if you could borrow a towel for a shower. He agreed, and asked what you wanted for dinner. After you gave him your order, you stepped into the shower to wash off the grime from traveling and the crime scene.

While you were changing, Logan called out to tell you that he was going down to the corner store. He wanted to get some beverages and snacks for later, so you told him what you wanted. Even though deep down, you suspected he already knew, given that you had dated for three years.

You stepped out of the bathroom, fully refreshed and dirty clothes packed back into your luggage. Your phone rang and the Caller ID said it was Dean. "Hey, baby, I was just thinking about you. Where are you?" you wondered.

"Pennsylvania. We'll be there tomorrow afternoon, like I thought. Did you find a nearby motel you could stay at?" he asked. "Kenzie?"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "No, Logan offered to let me stay in his apartment. I'm sleeping on the couch, though," you added quickly. You squeezed your eyes shut and braced yourself for the firestorm.

"Kenzie, if he tries anything...." Dean started.

"He won't. Because he knows he's in deep trouble if he does. He knows I'm capable of kicking his ass and won't hesitate to do so if it comes to that. Which it won't," you mentioned. "I promise you, Dean. Logan and I are just friends. When you and Sam get here, we'll go to a motel. One room for Sam, and one room to have all to ourselves," you said in a sultry voice.

"You promise?" Dean asked.

"Of course, my love. I even remembered to bring my 'special jammies', just for you. For tonight, though, I'll have to settle for cuddling with an extra pillow that I'll pretend is you," you chuckled. Turning more serious, you continued. "I love you, and nothing is ever going to change that. I told the LT that you are my world. And I meant it, Dean," you finished softly.

"Ah, Kenzie, I love you so much," Dean whispered.

"I know, Dean. I love you too. Can't wait to hear you roll up in your badass car and step out in your leather jacket. You'll impress the hell out of Mike's partner, Lennie, I'll just bet," you grinned as Logan walked back through the door. "Anyway, Logan's back with some food, so I'll talk to you later. See you soon, baby. Sweet dreams," you replied.

"Sweet dreams of you, Kenzie my love," Dean responded then disconnected the call. You stared down at your phone, a loving smile on your face as you thought of Dean.

"Was that 'Loverboy' on the phone?" Logan smirked.

"Yes, that was Dean. And just so you know? He likes you about as much as you like him," you retorted.

"Oh, good, and here I was afraid we wouldn't get along," he responded sarcastically.

"Logan, can we please not do this tonight? Let's just catch up, swap some stories, then get some sleep, okay?" you asked.

Logan sighed deeply before answering. "Okay fine, you win. Eat some food, tell some stories, then hit the rack. Right?" he answered.

You took a step closer and walked your fingers up his chest. "And uh, Mike? If you, um, try anything?" you said in a husky voice. He nodded, then you grabbed his argyle tie and pulled him down so you were nose to nose. "I won't hesitate to kick your ass. I fight vampires and werewolves and all kinds of other creatures for a living. You know I can do it," you growled then released him.

He loosened his tie enough to slip it off over his head. "I suppose now is a bad time to tell you how turned on I am, right?" he asked. Over your shoulder, you flipped him the bird as you took a seat on the couch. Logan chuckled and shook his head.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

True to your word, after you had finished dinner, you and Logan decided to swap some war stories. You told him about some of the close calls you had and he told you about losing his partner, Max Greevy. You expressed your condolences and mentioned some of the people you had lost along the way as well. Charlie, Bobby, Ellen and Jo. Then you regaled him with the story about the hunt at Plucky Pennywhistle's, where Sam was attacked by clowns. You assured him that it would make a lot more sense when he saw Sam in person. The big, tall moose of a man who was scared of clowns.

After the laughter between you died down, Mike looked at you and said, "Aw, Kenz, it's been way too long. I'm having a great time, talking with you like this. I've missed you," he admitted.

"I'm having a great time too, Mike. You've had my number saved in your phone after all these years. Why haven't you called before now?" you asked.

Logan paused before answering. "I dunno. I guess I kept waiting for you to come back here, back to me. We had something, Kenzie. You can't deny that," he replied.

"I know, Logan, but the key word is, 'had'. I'm with Dean now, and he's....he's it for me, Mike. I love him to the moon and back. He knows when I'm upset but trying to hide it, and he doesn't let me get away with it. He helps me through the nightmares. Dean has seen me at my worst, and he still loves me. For him I would die, and I nearly have. More than a few times. He's everything to me, and looks at me in return as if I'm everything to him," you finished softly.

"As long as you're happy, Kenzie. I hope I'm lucky enough someday to find someone like you again," Logan remarked. "Don't worry, I'm not going to come between you two. I'd like us to still be friends, though," he said with hope.

You sniffled and then smiled at him. "Deal. Now, no more chick-flick moments," you grinned.

"Right! You thirsty? Want something else to drink?" Logan asked as he rose from his chair.

"Nah, I'm good. I think it's time for me to go to sleep, though. It's been a long day," you replied. Logan agreed, and got out some extra pillows and blankets for you. "Thank you, Mike. I appreciate you letting me stay here tonight. For the record, I'm glad you called and asked for our help. Don't be such a stranger though. Call me once in a while, okay? Goodnight, Mike," you said as you gave him a hug.

"Goodnight, Kenz," Logan returned. Still love you, he silently added.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

On the way to the precinct, you and Logan stopped for a bagel and coffee. "Man, I forgot how good the food is here in New York," you said as you sipped your coffee. "The pizza alone is almost worth moving back here for. Almost," you added.

You spent the morning reviewing Briscoe and Logan's case notes and the M.E.'s reports from both crime scenes. Around lunch time, you got a call from Sam, saying they were only a few blocks away, according to his phone's GPS. You leapt out of your chair and headed downstairs to meet them, with Briscoe, Logan and Lt. VanBuren behind you.

Just as the Impala was pulling into a parking space in front of the building, you burst through the doors. You were so excited that you nearly tripped down the stone steps. Dean was out of the car almost before the engine shut off and ran towards you.

With a huge smile on your face, you jumped into his arms as soon as he reached you. Your legs wrapped around his waist and your hands cradled his face. Dean had one hand on your thigh and the other on your back, supporting you. Your mouths had crashed together in a long, passionate kiss. When you broke apart, both you and Dean were grinning at each other, overjoyed to no longer be apart. He brushed your hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear. "Missed you, Kenzie baby," he remarked softly. "Missed you too, my love," you whispered.

Dean released his hold on you and lowered your feet to the ground, but held fast to your hand. You both turned to the two detectives and their lieutenant, who were grinning at the display they just witnessed.

"Hey, what am I, chopped liver?" a voice from the Impala's passenger side boomed out in fake annoyance.

"Sam!!" You exclaimed as you ran over to hug the younger Winchester. "Hiya, Kenz. Great to see you, glad to finally be here," Sam chuckled. You hooked your arm with Sam and pulled him over to where Dean was left standing. You took Dean's hand in yours once again and intertwined your fingers.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Sam and Dean Winchester. Boys, these are Detectives Lennie Briscoe and Michael Logan, and their boss, Lt. Anita VanBuren," you stated. Everyone exchanged handshakes and pleasantries, then you all went inside.

Once you got back upstairs, you suggested meeting in one of the interview rooms. Sam and Dean followed Briscoe and Logan to the room. Lt. VanBuren got right next to you and held you back a bit by your arm. "Girl, you didn't tell me he was even better looking in person! Mmm! I'll say it again, your man is FINE!" she declared, as you chuckled.

Inside the interview room, you signaled to Logan to disconnect the cameras, and you locked the doors. "What we're about to tell you doesn't leave this room. The fewer people that know, the better. Logan already knows some of it, from when he and I were together," you said as you took Dean's hand in yours.

"From the information on the first crime scene, the M.E.'s reports and yesterday's discovery, I think what we're dealing with is a skinwalker," you announced. Dean looked at you in surprise, and you nodded.

"A skinwalker? What the hell is that?" Briscoe asked.

"A skinwalker is a cousin to a werewolf, so canine in origin. Which is why that's what I thought it was at first," you started. "The claw marks, the hearts missing, that usually points to a werewolf," you remarked.

"What made you change your mind, Kenz?" Dean asked.

"It was yesterday's crime scene. The first one was at night, in the park. Yesterday, we were called to a neighborhood, a backyard. And it was late evening, but not after midnight. More of a domestic setting, too," you emphasized. Dean looked down at his shoes and nodded, because he agreed with your assessment. That meant you'd have to change your strategy for tracking, fighting and killing the thing.

"Is all this stuff for real? I mean, I thought werewolves and such were just campfire stories meant to scare people," Briscoe interjected.

"Nope, Lennie, it's all real. When Kenzie left here to go home to Kansas, she said that her folks had been killed by vampires," Logan explained. "At first, I thought it was just some elaborate excuse to break up with me, but then she showed me her journal. All full of notes about this kind of stuff. What the thing is, where it lives, its weaknesses and more importantly, how to kill it," Logan finished. He gave you a quick smile to show you his support.

"What's unique about a skinwalker, is that it can change into a dog at any given moment. That alone is going to make things much more difficult, as far as tracking it down and killing it," Sam mentioned.

"In a city this size, with as many dogs as there are about? We're going to have to keep an eye on the parks and neighborhoods at night. Most likely for strays, or ones with tags but that are out wandering by themselves," you finished.

"Gee, and here I thought this was going to be difficult," Lennie muttered.

"So, how do we kill it, if we're lucky to find one?" Lt. VanBuren asked.

"Silver, through the heart," Dean answered.

"We still have some of those silver bullets, Dean?" you asked him.

He nodded. "Think so, Kenz," he replied. "We've got some you can just load right into a clip for your 9mm. But is there a garage or something I can pull into? I don't exactly want to do this out on the street," Dean explained.

Logan walked out to the Impala with Dean to show him where to park. Once they got into the parking space, Dean opened the trunk's secret compartment to get out the silver bullets. When Mike saw all the hardware, he gave a low whistle of appreciation.

"And all of this stuff kills one thing or another, right?" Logan asked, gesturing to the arsenal.

"Yep," Dean answered.

As Dean was digging through the trunk, the tension between the men was almost thick enough to need a chainsaw to cut through it. Dean cleared his throat. "Hey, thanks for letting Kenzie crash on your couch last night," he said gruffly. "It helped me to know that she's protected, even though she'll tell you she can do it herself," Dean added.

"Yeah, she's pretty independent, from what I remember. It was good to catch up with her, swap some stories," Logan replied. "And uh, you don't have to worry about me. I can tell how much she loves you, and I'd never come between that. As long as she's happy and you treat her right, that's what matters to me," Logan finished.

The two men shook hands, which seemed to ease some of the tension. Little did they know, but you and Lt. VanBuren were watching their interaction. "Well, I'll be damned. We might just be able to pull this off without them killing each other," you remarked.

"I didn't think Mike had it in him. You know, before Dean got here, I noticed something. Since you got here, Logan's been watching your every move. He still loves you," Lt. VanBuren observed.

"He said as much last night, but I told him about my feelings for Dean and how much he means to me. Logan said he understood and that he wouldn't come between us. We'll still be friends, though," you replied. The lieutenant seemed skeptical about that, but she kept her thoughts to herself for the time being.

Back up in the interview room, you all worked together to come up with a plan to find the skinwalker and eliminate it. Tonight, you were all going to the park dressed in regular clothes, like you were having a picnic of sorts. All the while, you would be keeping an eye out for dogs that may be candidates for the skinwalker. Even if it turned out to be a bust, at least you'd have the memory of a good meal spent together.

As you ate, various conversations filled the air. Lennie expressed his appreciation of the Impala to Dean, who didn't hesitate to boast about her attributes. Sam and Mike got to know each other a little better, while you and Anita quietly discussed the men sitting at the table.

At various times during the meal, you and Dean would lock eyes, and you gave each other a smile. Those moments warmed your hearts and made you love each other even more. Of course, everyone else decided to tease you about how "disgustingly cute" it was.

The real work began after dinner. Sam and Dean tossed around a baseball, while you and Logan took a walk together. Dean kept a watchful eye on the two of you, making sure to keep you in his sights.

"Relax, Dean, they're just talking," Sam said, interrupting Dean's surveillance of you and Logan.

"Yeah, Sammy, I know. Besides, I have a little game-changer in my pocket here," Dean grinned and tossed a small box towards his brother.

Sam opened it and gave a low whistle of appreciation. "Whoa, Dean. You mean this?" he asked.

"Sammy, I've never been more sure of anything in my life. She's my world, man. I can't see me growing old with anyone else but Kenzie. Maybe someday have a couple of kids running around the bunker, I don't know," Dean remarked.

Sam walked over to his brother to return the ring. "Well, I gotta say this. It's about damned time, Dean," he grinned. "I've watched the two of you over the years, man. There are no two people on this earth that are more meant for each other than you and Kenzie," Sam replied.

"Thanks, Sam, I appreciate that," Dean said. He looked up to see that you and Logan were walking back towards him and Sam. You stopped for a moment as your eyes met and you flashed him a brilliant smile.

Just as you were almost to where he was standing, a German Shepherd barreled into you, knocking you over. A man with dark hair, brown eyes and somewhat of an athletic build came running over to you. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I threw the Frisbee, but I thought he'd catch it before it reached you. Are you okay?" he said frantically.

You got to your feet and brushed yourself off. "I'm okay, please don't worry. It was bound to happen sometime tonight, park's kinda busy," you responded.

"Sarge, that was naughty of you to knock over this nice lady. Say you're sorry," the man admonished.

Sarge looked at you with deep sorrow in his eyes. You couldn't resist Sam's puppy-dog eyes, so you definitely couldn't resist the real thing. You reached over to pet him and scratch behind his ears. "Oh, it's okay, Sarge. You're still a good boy," you cooed.

"Kenzie? Baby, are you okay?" Dean came rushing over, checking you for injuries.

"I'm okay, Dean, really. You don't have to fuss," you pouted, but secretly loved his attention.

"Well, we'd best be on our way. Sorry about knocking you over, miss," the man said as he and Sarge departed.

Dean curled his arm around you, keeping you close to his side. You brought one arm around his waist and rested your head on his shoulder, your other hand resting on his chest. "You okay, sweetheart?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine, my love," you responded. You looked up to see him scanning the park and you could tell he had slipped into full-on hunter mode. You began to feel it too, like something wasn't quite right. "What is it?" you asked.

"Don't know yet. I don't think that was a random encounter. Something's off, and I think we should pack up and call it a day," Dean replied.

You both rejoined the group and helped pack things up. You agreed to meet at the precinct in the morning to share your thoughts about your encounter with the man and his dog. Dean drove back to the motel, his hand in yours with fingers intertwined. Once there, Sam went to his room, while you and Dean went to yours.

Dean threw his bags onto the floor next to the table and chair in the corner. You followed, and did the same with your bags. As soon as you closed the door, Dean had you pushed up against it, his lips smashed into yours with hot, devouring kisses. His hands roamed freely over your body, up your sides, your arms, and finally his hands cradling your face. "Oh, god, Kenzie, I've missed you so much," Dean whispered between kisses.

"I've missed you too, Dean. Holding that pillow last night was no substitute for the real thing," you replied breathlessly.

You broke apart long enough to help each other get undressed, then you met again beneath the sheets. Dean raised up on one elbow, hovering over you a bit. The back of his hand brushed your cheek ever so softly, almost with a reverence. "I love you with all my heart, Kenz. You are one of the best things to ever come into my life. It was me and Sam for so many years, then you came along," Dean remarked.

He reached behind him on the nightstand and brought out a small, black velvet box. "I've loved you from the moment I met you. There's no one else on this earth but you that I want to grow old with. Mackenzie Reed, will you marry me?"

Dean opened the box to reveal a gorgeous diamond and white gold engagement ring. Tears sprang to your eyes and you covered your mouth with your hand. "I love you so much, Dean, of course I'll marry you!" you exclaimed.

He slipped the ring onto your left hand then captured your lips in a slow, sensuous kiss. "I love you, Mr. Winchester," you grinned. "I love you, Mrs. Soon-to-Be-Winchester," Dean replied. You celebrated your engagement with a night of passionate lovemaking with your future husband.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The man and his dog returned to their car. Shortly thereafter, two men stood beside the car, the German Shepherd no longer present. The dog had been replaced by a tall, well-built man with blond hair and brown eyes. "It's her. The one we're looking for, I smelled it. She's the one who killed my twin brother two years ago. Hunters," he snarled.

"What should we do, Karl?" the other man asked.

"Patience, Thomas. Patience. Besides, once we capture her, we'll have an added bonus. An additional piece of leverage to get those hunter friends of hers to rescue her," Karl explained.

"What? What 'leverage' are you talking about?" Thomas queried.

"She is with child," Karl grinned evilly.

Up next: Part Three

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

I Moose-t Tell You Something || Morgan and Kaden

LOCATION: Moose Caboose PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY:  Morgan tries to be honest with Kaden. They are swiftly punished by the great Mime-Moose.

Exhausted didn’t even begin to cover how Kaden felt after this week. Hell, after this month. He was pretty sure this outing with Morgan wasn’t going to be nice and light hearted or any sort of reprieve, despite the location. God, he was so tired. There wasn’t enough coffee in the world to help the bags under his eyes. Didn’t mean he wasn’t trying as he sat there and waited for her in one of the booths. But coffee wasn’t going to fix this; the frustration he felt at everyone around him holding something back. Morgan, Regan, Blanche, Nadia, for all he knew Alain and Evelyn, too; he could feel all of them keeping something from him all while acting like they trusted him.  At least saying they did. That he was a good guy. Sure. Just not good enough. Which alright, that might be true. He could think of plenty of reasons for them not to trust him, but he still fucking hated feeling like this. Whatever this was. He’d just drown it all in coffee and nicotine. It’d be fine. He saw her walk in and waved her over. “See you found the place. Hopefully you didn’t bring any fucking mimes with you.” Looking at her, he wondered which of the two of them looked more exhausted and weary. He still didn’t know what happened but no doubt it wasn’t anything good. “How’ve you been?”

Stars, Morgan missed the variety of human food. Brains were fine, now, but it was like having tuna salad as your favorite food, and then deciding to never have anything else for the rest of your life. She found the pretense of cooking depressing, some sad form of denial that hurt more than it helped. Going out to another White Crest diner was a whole other level. But what could she do? Call Kaden over to the house and tell him, hey, wanna see the shed where I came back from the dead? And while we’re at it, guess from all the taxidermy what our girlfriends have in common? So she pulled herself into one of her cleaner sets of ‘I just died and can’t be bothered’ loungewear and drove to meet him in the afternoon. She found Kaden easily, he couldn’t have brooded harder if he was on the cover of a Batman poster, and plopped down in the seat opposite.

“I’m peachy with a side of keen,” she deadpanned. “Just like you’re walking on sunshine over there.” She was being flippant, but he really did look worse for wear. The part of Morgan that knew better, that cared for Kaden despite the inconvenience, felt guilty over it. She sighed and asked, “You uh, wanna vent about anything first?” I have literally all the time in the world, she silently added.

“Oh yeah. It’s been a wonderful week. Full of mimes and splendor.” Kaden went to take another sip of his coffee only to realize it was already gone. Putain. He ran his hand through his hair instead. Did he have anything to vent? Shit, he had a mountain of things to vent. He could be here all day and maybe the next if he started on all of that. That wasn’t why he was here, though. Still, might as well dump some of it. “Did I mention I got attacked by a mime that looked just like me? Twice. That was fun.” His foot ached at the thought. Thank god for hunter healing but he wasn’t about to go running again any time soon. “Regan ran away from me in the middle of dinner because the ghost of my mother decided to show up and say  ‘boo.’ More or less.” It felt like he was being crushed under the weight of this fucking town. He wasn’t aware he could feel this much stress at one time before he moved here. He’d dealt with a lot but nothing like this. Maybe it was that whole caring bullshit. Is this what it did to you? This? God, there really was a reason he was avoiding it all this time. “Enough about me. You wanted to tell me something.”

“Oh, shit.” Was all Morgan could say at first. Maybe she should have postponed this meeting for a better day, one where there was enough of her outside of the pit to give Kaden some comfort. A pat on the shoulder or something kind and smart about how to take these things in stride. She knew all about breaking under the weight of too much suffering. “That’s...a lot, bud. And I…” Shit, this had all been a terrible idea. But what else could she do? She was already here. “I don’t have anything to make it better. Don’t you, um…” She hesitated. He was a hunter, right? Was he just too stressed to feel the dead on her? “Are your spidey senses going off by any chance?” Or maybe that was the wrong tack to start with. “Just, you know, curious. But anyway, you didn’t fuck up the bowl because it’s just a bowl. I wanted to make you fess up to your feelings out loud. Well, I wanted to talk you out of giving Vera your money too. But also the first thing. I thought it would help you. Harmlessly.”

It was odd, she wasn’t picking at his emotions like normal. Maybe she was just giving him some breathing room before digging in. Her first question threw him for a loop and Kaden’s brow furrowed. “Uh, no.” Why was she asking about his hunter senses? Did… did she get bitten by a werewolf? Was that what she was afraid to tell him? He paused and tried to pay closer attention to those senses, see if he got that feeling, the chill down his spine. No. No sixth sense. “Are they supposed to?” Strange she’d ask. He looked down into mug, watching the few grinds left swish around and was about to start concentrating on what he could hear, see if he was missing something, when she mentioned the fucking bowl. “Wait, what?” His head shot up to meet her eyes. “You-- It didn’t--? It wasn’t--?” His mouth pulled into a thin line and his eyes narrowed at her. “Great. Thanks for that. I-- I made Regan think--” He could get up and leave right now. Just leave some cash on the table and book it. He let out a strained sigh and stayed seated instead. “Why would you want me to do that, anyway? Fucking with me is one thing but you fucked with Regan, too.” He wanted to take the salt shaker and chuck it across the room. He settled for gripping the mug to the point it made his knuckles white instead. He felt like such an idiot for buying into that shit. And even worse for giving Regan false hope like that.

“Yeah, well, Regan wouldn’t listen to the actual truth, so a little witchy mind trick on you to get her to do the same fucking thing and actually take care of herself seemed like a fair bargain,” Morgan replied dully. “There was nothing wrong with the amulet, but you guys really wanted to think there was so I stepped in and made y’all feel better about it for a hot second. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, but I wasn’t very good at seeing the big picture either. I did a lot of stupid things.” She fiddled her hands in her lap, painfully aware that this was not the sort of confession Kaden really deserved. She should be explaining, somehow, that she’d been genuinely touched by his willingness, and she hadn’t expected him to listen to her in the first place, only then it was a little too late. She should explain that she did, somehow, want him to be okay. But she didn’t know where those words were. They were buried somewhere in the pit that sat at the bottom of her chest. She looked back up at him, frowning and guilty and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

Something was wrong. Kaden’s nose scrunched as his brows knit further together listening to her speak. He didn’t know Morgan all that well and she was far from happy to see him in the past, but this was off. Defensive. Sullen. Not snippy in the way she’d been in the past. It was harsher, blunter, in a way he couldn't quite place a finger on. It made it hard for him to hold on to his anger. Putain, when the fuck did worry and concern become his default fucking state of being? He felt like that's all he ever was now. Like he forgot how to turn off the switch once it flipped back on. “Look, I don’t even know what the amulet does. I didn’t think it was broken. I just wanted to help her, alright?” He tried to soften his tone some but exhaustion didn’t exactly let him. “Morgan, what the fuck is wrong? Why’d you have to tell me that in person?” It wasn’t that bad. He was still bristling a little, sure, but it was more for Regan than himself. It was a grudge he couldn’t be fucked to hold onto right now, not with whatever strange tension he felt coming off of Morgan sitting across from him. Still it felt too silly to be the sole reason she was here. In the moment of silence, he tried to listen closer, see if there was anything he could pick up but it was no use. Even at an off time with less people, the place was still too noisy for him to focus on much of anything. All he could hear was the shuffling of feet from the servers, muffled conversations, the clinking of knives and forks against plates, the little bell on the door as someone walked in. His hunter senses still didn’t go off but he got the feeling something was off all the same.

Morgan spread her arms in an impression of that shrug emoji Blanche liked to send her when she was at her wit’s end. “It’s the nice thing to do, or something, maybe. And I thought I’d get all the bad news out in one go where there’d be plenty of witnesses,” she said. “Cause the other thing is, I’m dead. Like super dead. There was this cute little pole that went through here,” she traced a circle over the spot with her finger, “And I bled out on the pavement. And then I came back. Not in the fangs way, but the brains way. Which, gotta say, has just been the worst for all kinds of reasons you probably wouldn’t think of at first.” Her voice grew heavier as she went on, no longer glib and deadpan but weighted with the pull of the death-pit inside her. She turned away from him to look out the window. Only a few days ago she’d been riding high from her Beltane night with Deirdre. She’d made dinner. She’d picked up flowers to press. And then something had given out, she couldn’t even remember what, but zoning out at the ceiling had slid suddenly into hiding in bed. Now she was here, and she couldn’t grasp why she had believed anything would turn around for her for long, curse or no curse. Morgan searched the middle distance for an answer, but found nothing. Nothing that is, except for-- “You gotta be fucking kidding me.” She whirled back to Kaden, pointing out the window. “I thought you said mime-moose weren’t real!”

All Kaden could do was blink at her for a moment as his mouth fell slowly open. That was a lot to process. All at once. Very bluntly. Dead. She died. And she was talking. And then brains. Which meant. “Putain.” He rubbed his face with his hands. Shit. This… shit. It-- Nope. He couldn’t process this. He couldn’t take one more fucking shitty thing. Obviously he knew that people turned into zombies and vampires and werewolves. That’s how they spread. That was the problem at its core. But he’d never met anyone who had turned. Why would he? His entire circle was full of hunters. Anyone who could turn didn’t let themselves. With his eyes closed and his fingers pressed into the bridge of his nose he concentrated and tried desperately to hear her heartbeat, like maybe she was lying and he could will it to be different if he just listened hard enough. He didn’t get to listen for very long. His eyes shot open and he turned to face the window just in time to see a fucking black and white striped moose. With. A. Fucking. Beret. “Putain!” This fucking town. There was a crash and glass shattered as the antlers came charging through into the restaurant. With a grumble, Kaden reached into his pocket to pull out a knife and stomped over towards the fucking mime moose. He’d normally charge in but his enthusiasm was a little curbed. “Animal control, everyone out!” he shouted as people scattered, hoping it’d clear the room faster so he could stab this monster without witnesses. At least not live fucking witnesses.

Morgan still couldn’t believe what she was looking at. Moose didn’t wear berets. Evil pulpy mime-doubles were one thing, but a moose with a beret and stripes running through is fur, charging the diner in complete, raging silence--that was a level Morgan had hoped White Crest wouldn’t think to seek to. Glass splattered into the diner. Morgan shielded her face and threw herself out of the booth and onto the ground. When the rain of glass ceased, she picked herself up, checking for signs of the moose. A creature like that should be huffing, wheezing, growling. But she heard nothing. She lifted her gaze and saw its large black-and-white snout. Its black eyes, dotted white around the lids, were not the blank, stupid animal shade of black. Morgan had stared into the eyes of enough deer and rabbits to know that look by now. This creature was something else, something furious. “You heard the guy!” She shouted to the room, not breaking eye contact. Slowly, she staggered to her feet. “Are you bookin’ it or--” Without warning the moose swatted her body across the room. Morgan’s spine bent like a rubber noodle over the bar counter. Her arm, stretched into the air useless to catch itself, crumpled in on itself. “...Ow,” she whined. She braced herself up with a sturdy hand and staggered, as best she would, while her body reset itself. She waved her mangled arm in the general direction she thought Kaden to be. Blood bloomed up from somewhere in her shoulder and soaked her torn sweater sleeve. A shard of glass she could barely perceive jutted out from the apple of her cheek, wiggling as she offered a weak ‘I’m good!’ smile.

Knife in hand, Kaden braced himself as the moose charged forward at him. He reached out and caught a chunk of flesh but ducked and rolled as a striped antler threatened to impale him. He scrambled to right himself, just in time to see Morgan facing off with the moose. Shit. He pushed off the ground but he wasn’t in time to do a damn thing before she went flying halfway across the room. He winced watching her body bend and break like a ragdoll being tossed away. He stopped dead, stunned to watch it. And then she spoke and got up. Putain. She really was dead. And that-- Shit. No time to be horrified. He hopped onto a table and leapt across a few to reach the moose. The beast turned to him and started another charge. Kaden waited as it got closer. Closer. And right as he could practically feel its silent breath he pushed off to the next table and threw himself around to catch the back of the moose with his knife. He pushed down hard as he could, black tar like substance oozing and bubbling up from its black and white fur. Ought to slow it down. He hoped.  

Morgan winced as her body reconstructed its old shape. Nothing hurt, not the way it should, but the sight was more than she could bear just yet. When she could stand upright and use both her arms, she scrambled to the other side of the bar, looking for a weapon, anything to fight back with. She tore open every drawer, one after another, until she found a nice pair of butcher knives. She held one out, hilt offered to Kaden. “Need another?” She mouthed silently. The moose opened its mouth as if to roar. The silence wasn’t as comforting on her ears as it should have been and Morgan gave Kaden a look that said he really should consider the big foodie blade and slid across the bar closer to him as she crept towards the moose with her own.

Kaden looked back to see Morgan’s body repairing itself from behind the bar and sliding him a butcher’s knife. He blinked back the image of her bones piecing themselves back together, he’d save the mental gymnastics on that one for another time, and took the knife, looked it over. It’d be a shame to waste a good cooking knife on a monster. Luckily, this wasn’t a good cooking knife. He wasn’t sure what she planned on doing with her own knife exactly but at least he didn’t have to worry about her getting killed. He stood his ground as the animal let out a silent bellow. It ran, he moved to the side, took one of the tables, and shoved it in front of the moose’s path. The mime stumbled, barely, but it was enough of an opportunity for Kaden to launch himself at the animal, a knife in each hand. They sunk into the side of its flesh, more black goo oozing out. The antlers swung as the moose tossed its head and thrashed in pain. Kaden clung to the knives with all his might and tried to hold on.

Morgan leapt at the mime-moose as soon as Kaden pinned it in the aisle of the diner. She dug her hands into the wooly fur of the critter and dug in tight. He was not happy to have a dead weight flopped on its back and thrashed violently, snarling, and huffing without even the whisper of a breath. Morgan flailed to keep her balance, kicking Kaden’s hand in the process. Clawing up its body, muscles straining, even in undeath, she worked her way to its neck. She jabbed the knife into its throat, stabbing awkwardly over and over until she was thrown off again, crashing into the bar stools. The black and white moose stumbled on its feet, straining to stay upright, and finally collapsed. It didn’t even make a sound as it fell to the ground. Morgan was only sure it was dead because of the way its beret fell to the ground, swallowed at once by black, tar-like blood. “Stars. You don’t see that every day,” she mumbled.

Kaden’s hand was kicked away and he lost his grip on the knives. Before he could fall away, an antler clipped his side and sent him reeling across the room. Fucking mimes. Couldn’t catch a fucking break. He peeled himself up off the floor and saw the creature collapse, more of that black crap bubbling out of it. He watched as it faded away into a puff of striped smoke and let out a sigh. Hopefully that meant it was fucking gone. Wait. Fuck, so was his knife. Putain. Like this could get any worse. He pushed himself up off the floor, wincing as he felt the full hit of that mime-moose’s attack. He walked over and held a hand out to help her and then it hit him all over again like a wave of confusion. Shit. Morgan was a zombie. She-- but that. He considered pulling his hand back. But didn’t. “When did it happen?” He knew the answer if he thought about it long enough but he needed something to say.

Morgan jerked back to reality, away from the melting mime-moose. Right. She’d told Kaden she was a zombie and now he had a whole body horror show of proof. She staggered to her feet, her shoes slipping on the black goo that came out of the creature as she tiptoed over. “That big accident on Main Street. Got my foot caught on some stupid banner. You wanna know how it feels to get a metal rod stuck through you, or car parts on your legs?” She looked up at him, meeting him square in the eye despite her fear. There were no witnesses now. No one to help her if he decided to take out one of those knives and run her through with it. “You wanna know what it feels like to die, Kaden?” She asked.

Kaden steeled his gaze as he watched her, putting his hand slowly back down at his side when she ignored it. This wasn’t the woman he’d met before. It was but, it wasn’t just her body that had changed. She was different. Harsher, maybe. “Not particularly, no. Gotten close, though.” Resentful. That was the word. He watched her, kept his eyes fixed on hers, looking for the person he knew. Was it just anger, a reaction, or was it something worse? She’d invited him here. She’d acted like she still cared before. The drawing she’d asked for. The stupid shitty drawing. He couldn’t believe she was gone. Not after that. He kept his face stoic but god he hoped she’d give him some sign that person was still there. Even if she had fucking tricked him into sharing his stupid feelings with a shitty bowl.

“It’s, um, it’s actually not that bad,” Morgan said, folding her arms over her chest. “About to die, sure, completely, but…” She shrugged, sniffing stiffly to keep her composure. The sleep had been fine. And stars, she missed being able to go to sleep some nights. “Anyways, I didn’t want you to find out some other way. And I can’t do anything magic for you, not that I managed to do much in the first place, before. But you should know I can’t. Not good for much besides staying up all night these days.” She stepped closer to him, holding his gaze, searching for some read on what he was thinking, how he was seeing her. “Am I still a person to you, Kaden?” She asked quietly, lip quivering. “I don’t have a grave or anything for you to go to. It’s just me. This. Am I a monster to you now?”

He watched her, kept watching as she spoke, tried to take in what she was saying, how she was saying it. Tried to process it. Kaden saw her resolve start to crumble, something beyond the anger and apathy she’d been displaying the whole time. It made it harder. Harder to figure out how to handle this. Zombies were bad. There was nothing right about dying and coming back in that sort of half life she was doubtlessly existing in. The fact that they could lose control-- that she could lose control and spread her condition like a plague, how could he let that stand? And a few months ago and this would have been an easy fuckin answer. He couldn’t and he wouldn’t. But standing in front of her now, it was harder. A lot harder. Every instinct in him was screaming yes, that was a monster. She fucking came back from the dead. He’d watched her limbs break and put themselves back together. What else did he need to know? But looking in her eyes, it still looked suspiciously like the woman who he bartered for some magic over waffles. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe both.”

Morgan didn’t know what she’d expected from a hunter. It was just like the humans back home; everything was fine until it wasn’t. Until they knew something they didn’t like. And in this case, Morgan wasn’t sure how much she disagreed. She didn’t feel like a monster, she hadn’t hurt anyone she hadn’t meant to. But there was the hunger, the thing that made her groan and fall down on her knees before a battered corpse. The thing that she feared enough to stop her mouth sometimes. And she didn’t feel like she was all herself most times. She kept trying to tell everyone there was less than there used to be. She frowned and backed away from him, “Does ‘I don’t know’ mean you’re gonna try to hurt me now, Kaden?” She asked, sniffling. “I wasn’t a perfect human, or anything. I was just cursed and miserable and for a couple months I thought things were gonna get better, and then it all fell apart and I died, so.” She gave him a sad, bitter smile. “Haven’t eaten anyone yet. It’s honestly not that hard to keep up with. I don’t even need three square meals a day to stay full, which is kind of sad, so I eat more anyway. I can’t burn your skin off anymore or pay you in laundry lent counterfeit, but if you hurt Deirdre or Ricky, I’ll bite you. Whatever I am now, I care about my friends. You know, when I get off the floor and stuff. And you were kind of a friend too, so I figured, what’s a little reckless endangerment with a guy you cheated with a bowl?” She shrugged helplessly. “So how stupid was I, Kaden? Telling you what happened to me?

Kaden didn’t expect the sting he felt when she backed away. Somehow it was like daggers, poking at him, reminding him that he was dangerous and that people couldn’t be close to him. Shouldn’t be. He knew that. Well, he had, before coming here. Not letting anyone in was his rule of thumb. He still wasn’t sure how he fucked it up so badly in White Crest but clearly he fucking did and it was causing some major complications. Like the one standing right in front of him. “It means you’re asking me to tell you something that I don’t know if I can yet.” He sighed and looked away a moment, trying to piece together how he felt. It was hard to do when he didn’t know. “You can’t say you’re not a monster. At least a little. You know that. You have to feel it. You died. And came back. Telling me to ignore that completely, it’s-- I can’t. I won’t.” His words weren’t meant to be harsh, just the truth. Just how it was. He was sure some of her friends were trying to ignore it, tell her it was fine and she was the same. She wasn’t. Still, her excuses kept coming. He didn’t need to hear them, didn’t want the standard lines he’d heard before but from people he’d never known. “But I’m not going to kill you.” He couldn’t, was what he wanted to add. Something couldn’t bring himself to even really consider it. Which made him want to vomit. He should be a better hunter than this. He knew better. “I--” His throat tightened a moment. “I’m going to miss who you were, though.” He wasn’t sure what to make of this, whoever he was dealing with now, how he felt about her, if he could-- So it was all he could find to say. “Even if you were a pain in the ass liar who tricked me with a fucking bowl made of dirt.”

A sad, sobbing laughter bubbled out of Morgan at the hunter’s last words. “You know, you’re the first person to say that to me since I died,” she said, checking her face for tears. Just a few, nothing too embarrassing. “I miss her too, so you know. It’s not great so far being who I am now, at least most of the time. And that alive-me, she was kinda pathetic and lonely, but she...I did my best, when I was that person. I didn’t let go of people, even when they let go of me. I screwed up, but I tried to keep things in balance, and I did…not all that much, but I didn’t give up about it.” She didn’t accomplish even half of what she wanted. She’d thought she was just getting started and there might be a whole other soft world waiting for her on the other side of the curse. “But whoever I am now, Kaden, however much of me death ends up keeping, I’m not a fucking monster. Monsters are the ones who see people as things. And I think you’re a good enough person to know that.” She gave him a hard look through her grief and stormed out the door.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Mark of the Wolf Part 12

Catch Up Here!

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader (Lastname: Markolf)

Words: 5k

Warnings: For once... no violence in a MOTW chapter. But... maybe some poorly written rushed angst? I’m sorry... I just wanted to keep this story alive without having to wait a month in between updates... Oops!

A/N: Ayyy... Next chapter things are gonna heat up a bit.... and not just with our killer hunter tree people (Oh gawd, this sentence was stupid.) Enjoy meeting the family!

Leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed this chapter! It helps ☺

~

The drive to the Homestead was filled with awkward silence, half snores and faint mumbles traded in for regular conversation. You had been resting against Derek's chest the whole drive, teetering between full-on sleep and temporal distortion from constantly zoning in and out -or at least, it felt like you were time travelling whenever you'd close your eyes for a second and then the next thing you knew, a whole hour had flown past.

Your dreams were foggy, hitting you vividly one moment then incomprehensible the next. Several symbols flooded your thoughts when your eyelids closed, so did Alyster’s hoarse voice, but you blocked most of that out. Through all the disorder within your brain, only one image presented itself clearly and repeatedly: the bow and shank of a golden key without a bit. You kept sketching it in your mind. Over and over and over again until you started tracing the outline of the shape on your thigh using your index finger. Derek noticed but didn’t say anything. You were grateful because you wouldn’t know what to say had he asked.

You knew instantly the moment you were close to home. The air smelled of pine and rain. The sound of chirping and crickets filled the night. You felt Derek's muscles uncoil as soon as that fresh forest air hit his nostrils. He took a long, deep whiff and that caused his chest to rise and the beating of his heart to accelerate. The sound was… calming.

A howl woke you from your half-slumber. You were greeted by a tense energy swarming inside the car. Markus chuckled before reassuring everyone it was simply your youngest brother, Jonah, alerting the rest of your family to your arrival.

The driveway was narrow and paved by pebble-sized stones in place of tar or cobble, the sound of tires rolling over stone was familiar yet odd. Out from behind a tall hedge was the old, two-story wood and brick style house and behind that was the cabin and shed. Your mother and father were standing on the porch, tight smiles on their faces diluted by the breezy way they waved their arms. Beside them stood your sister, Esme. She was wearing workout clothes, undoubtedly from spending her day training Jonah -who was nowhere to be seen.

"Home, sweet home," Markus said as he got out of the car and was promptly greeted by Esme's fist punching his side. "Oof! Why do both my sister's insist on punching me? Are hugs and handshakes no longer an acceptable form of etiquette amongst werewolves?"

Esme's brow was furrowed, she looked furious, "Werewolves, yes. Siblings, not so much.” She punched him again, “You had us worried."

You were certain she was ready to rip him a new one right there and then by scolding him with a wordy speech she had undoubtedly practised several times in the mirror, but it never came. In place of a tongue lashing, she completely blindsiding him with a strong hug. A relieved sigh leaving her full lips.

As soon as you stepped out of the car, you were nearly toppled to the ground by Jonah -who had no doubt picked up the same blindsiding habit from Esme- with one of his trademark sprint hugs.

"Y/N! I missed you! How's your new job? Saved any pups lately? Get bitten by any mean cats? What about your new house? Is it spacey? Do you have your own porch swing? I know how much you love porch swings. You probably noticed ours is gone, I kinda, sorta, maybe broke it. Anyway, what about your neighbours? Is it weird moving someplace where your nearest neighbours can hear it when you sneeze? You sneeze really loudly! Are they nosey or rude or--" Jonah rambled at a faster than lightning pace.

You were still winded from his surprise hug, you almost didn't know what was happening. You couldn’t even get a word in between each speed round of questioning he threw your way.

"I missed you too Speedy," You giggled as you patted his lithe back, he was taller and skinnier than when you last saw him. That worried you. "The real question is: 'What have they been feeding you?' You're practically all bone!" You gawked at your parents.

Your dad chuckled, pushing his glasses farther up his nose, "Don't look at us. He eats more than Esme and Markus combined."

"Hey squirt," Esme wrapped you in a hug after she released Markus from her stony embrace. After she peered over your shoulder with an arched brow at all the strangers currently disembarking from the cars. "I see you've brought guests. Good thing you called ahead of time to give us a heads up." She retorted.

"Oh tish, Esme. Don't be rude," your mom walked down the steps and welcomed the strangers at her doorstep. “Please, ignore her boorish manners. Any friends of Y/N are friends of ours. Welcome, welcome.”

Stiles fumbled a bit, wiping his clammy hands on his jeans before offering a handshake. Scott and Liam inched closer to offer their own introductions while Derek and Peter took in the sheer scope of the Homestead, the latter of whom let out a whistle before remarking, “We invested in the wrong kind of real estate...”

“We?” Derek huffed.

“We’re family. Family is always entitled to a ‘we’,” Peter pointed out.

“I think we are the exception to the rule,” Derek strode away from the insulted looking Peter and introduced himself to your parents. Theo had remained silent and guarded during the entire welcome wagon. The overly warm ambience threw him off. He stood out like a sore thumb. An uncomfortably sore thumb.

"How's the fiancé?" you asked Esme with a bright smile as you made your way inside the house. It was probably the first time you'd been able to smile freely ever since you moved to Beacon Hills.

It comforted you that the house still smelt the same: sandalwood and lavender. Sandalwood was your dad’s go-to scent, he used it to try and mask the smell of tobacco from your mother whenever he’d sneak a cigar. He was never successful in that endeavour. Lavender was the go-to scent of all the candles Maggie made from scratch. She was a dabbler in aromatherapy. Everyone else in the house would always complain about strong smells during Summer, that’s when she did most of her brewing and mixing and distilling like some new-age witch without the pointy hat or warty nose. Your wolf nose wasn’t as keen as everyone else’s, so it never bothered you much. Not unless she was working with jasmine, you couldn’t stand the smell of jasmine.

Esme rolled her eyes, "She's driving me up the wall. Who knew planning a wedding could be so… stressful."

You cocked your head to the side, "Wait, I thought Maggie wanted to elope?"

"She did, originally," Esme sighed in your mom’s direction before shooting you a small smile. "Mom talked her into having a traditional wedding instead."

"All I did was show her your grandmother's wedding dress and a few photo albums, Maggie is a grown woman, she is allowed to change her mind," Your mother winked in your direction.

Jonah darted around Derek and Scott, nose high in the air as he far-from-discretely investigated the new werewolves.

"Hey, Speedy, what is the general rule when you meet other werewolves?" Esme asked with a hint of exasperation in her tone.

Jonah huffed a sigh and pulled his lips into a pout, eyes cast down, "Never be too obvious…”

“And?” Esme pressed.

Jonah bit his lip, “And don't sniff the air… it's rude."

"And what were you doing?" Esme's hands were on her hips now.

Jonah kicked at the air, "Being rude."

You elbowed your sister when you saw your brother's pouting face pull lower, "Cut him some slack, E. He's allowed to fib a little. He’s still a kid. You all had a learning curve too." You held out your hands for Jonah and he dashed to your side and cradled under your frame as though you were his security blanket. He shot Esme a shit-eating grin. "Don't worry Speedy, I'll protect you from the big, bad wolf."

Esme snarled, her eyes turning blue for an instant and then she chuckled and ruffled Jonah's sandy curls, "You're lucky Y/N's here. But don't think for a second that you can use her to get out of morning training."

Jonah shone his golden eyes in a puppy dog manner and Esme simply smacked his face playfully, not having any of his younger sibling bullshit tactics. You laughed at the weird sound he made after Esme’s palm left his face.

You had been so caught up in just being back home and slipping back into comfortable habits that you had forgotten to introduce everyone. "Oh, how rude of me. I haven’t done proper introductions yet. Mom, Dad, Esme, Speedy, these are my… friends from Beacon Hills. That's Derek, his uncle Peter, Scott, Liam, I'm not sure who he is because we met two nights ago and we took separate cars and, of course, we all know Deaton. We had a seventh, but we left her in Mexico."

Theo smirked at your quirky way of saying you hadn't been introduced and gave a half-wave as he decided to handle his own introductions, "Theo."  

Everyone gave a wave or a nod or an inaudible, 'Hello'.

"Everyone, these are my parents, Christian and Estella Markolf. The sour face over here is my sister Esme, you all met Markus and this little runt over here is Jonah.” You shook Jonah around like he was a ragdoll, prompting a giggle from him. “Our emissary, Maggie is… somewhere, though I'm not sure where."

"She headed into town early this morning, apparently a package arrived for her," Esme filled you in.

Jonah sniffed the air again, though not as subtly as he thought he was being. Then he turned and whispered to Esme, "Does he smell strange to you?" he set his eyes on Theo.

"Yeah, I'm not all werewolf, that's why. I'm surprised you picked up on it," Theo explained to him loudly.

Esme hid her embarrassment behind a scowl, “Speedy, we just went over this…”

Jonah ignored Esme’s protests and started up a conversation with Theo, "I have a condition that makes my wolf senses more excited than normal. It means I’m constantly running about or my nose picks up on strange smells from miles away. One time I smelt a campfire that was lit on the other side of the property line. Oh, and this one time I heard scratching in the house and it nearly drove me up the wall because it was so loud but no one else could hear it… turns out it was a rat in the basement."

"Ah, Chimera," Theo offered in explanation. "What's your…uh, condition?"

"ADHD," Jonah said simply.

Peter looked at your brother like he suddenly transformed into a peacock and you protectively glowered at him. Derek subtly stomped on Peter’s foot and he let out a hiss in pain. You bit back a laugh.

"Well," you father cleared his throat. "Now that we're all… acquainted, let’s see if we can make some room for all of you. And then after, we’ll let Markus explain what exactly he was doing in Mexico and why he and Esme never bothered to tell their parents they were planning on doing something stupid." he glanced between Esme and Markus with an inquisitive brow arched high. Both your siblings looked away like they’d been burned and shuffled awkwardly.

“Before you go on and tear Markus a new one, remember to mind your temper, your blood pressure is a whole thing now and I don’t need to tell you to keep a handle on it,” your mother patted your father’s chest lovingly before turning to her eldest son. “And you. March on upstairs and take a shower and a couple of aspirin. You reek!”

 The house was full and bustling with energy. In every room there was a conversation to be had or a chore to be done. The only time the house had been this full was the time when Maggie had invited her extended family over from Ireland to visit over the holidays.

The house was already beginning to bud off into smaller groups. The youngest members gravitated towards each other. Jonah and Theo hit it off quite easily and it didn’t take long until Liam was pulled into their orbit. Before you knew it, they were outside roughhousing like teenagers -though, to be fair, Jonah was barely over eighteen.

Peter and Esme got to talking about her former pack down in Sao Paulo and Deaton, Scott and Stiles were in the study looking over several open books and notes Maggie had compiled about the hunters. Derek and Markus were outside somewhere talking in hushed whispers. Meanwhile, your dad was helping you and your mother set up your old room.

"It's good to have you home," your mother said as she unfolded the duvet cover. "Despite the circumstances."

You shrugged, focusing your energy on putting the duvet cover on the right way round.

"Though it is rather ironic," your dad chipped in as he brought several sleeping bags down from the attic. "You left to get away from all this werewolf business and somehow you come home with more werewolves. Next thing you know you’ll be marrying a werewolf."

"I get it, I'm a walking disaster with a magnet for the supernatural," you half-joked.

"That Derek boy and his uncle seem quite familiar to me," your mom's face scrunched up in thought. "He wouldn't be a Hale by any chance?"

"Y-yeah… how did you--?"

"I knew his mother, way back when, before I left my old pack." She interrupted you as she fluffed several pillows and took down several blankets from the wardrobe. "He looks so much like his mother..." her eyes glanced out the window and then back at you. “And quite handsome."

You tossed a pillow her way, "Very subtle."

She winked, "It's just an observation."

Your dad grumbled as he took the blankets out of her hands and headed out of the room, "I sure do hope that’s all that was."

“Ignore him, he’s only just gotten used to the fact that he isn’t alpha anymore, he’s a little more territorial than usual,” she snickered behind a quilt.

 You heard the clinking of Maggie's chunky metal bangles and numerous pendants before you heard her footsteps when she barged in through the front door holding a cardboard box marked with a 'Royal Mail' stamp on it, "Hey, who are those two strange boyos with Jonah outside?"

She stopped with wide eyes when she saw you, arms spreading wide so she could squeeze your frame between her two plump arms. The frilly sleeves of her summer dress rolling up so you could see her tattoo sleeve in all its glory. You noticed she had gotten a new tattoo added to the collection.

"Aww, Y/N, I've missed you! I didn't think we'd be seeing you so soon after you left..." she studied your face and frowned when she noticed the dark circles under your eyes. "You haven't been sleeping at all. You got a bad dose of stress, don’t you? This won't do." Her strong Irish lilt was still very much present on her tongue.

"Hey, Maggie, I hear you aren't eloping anymore?" you asked and she blushed dotingly.

"What can I say, I decided I wanted the fairy tale wedding after all," She tucked her short hair behind her ear as a deep blush set on her freckled face. “I’m guessing those new additions amongst the garden gnomes belong to you?"

"Oh, I brought more," you nodded behind you where Derek, Peter, Scott and Stiles were all gathered.

"Who is that tall drink of water?" she whispered, but you knew they all heard.

You ignored her comment and glanced down at her parcel balanced between her arm and hip, "What's that?”

"Oh, it's a book my brother sent over," she used her shapely nails to rip open the box with little to no finesse. "Aha!" she cheered when she finally got it open. "It's the right volume too! I’ve gotta crack on with this sweets. We’ll hang properly later, yeah?"

You nodded and stood aside to let her through.

She trotted over to the study and immediately started flipping through pages after a short and sweet introduction to the rest of the pack. Maggie and Deaton got to catching up while Stiles, who was face timing with a pretty girl, pulled up a chair to join them with their studies.

Derek glanced your way while Peter rambled to Esme and Markus about something. He flashed a quick smile at you that caused the temperature in the room to grow much hotter. You hovered aimlessly for a second before seeking out something to do. You settled for sticking your head in the fridge to try and cool down.

Those words Alyster had spoken before kept fading in and out of your subconscious all day like a malfunctioning dimmer switch you could never turn off all the way.

That night, you, Esme and Maggie had curled up under your covers with a pint of lemon sorbet and an old boxset of Friends on DVD. Even though you enjoyed your time away from the madness and bloodshed and time being hunted to the ends of the earth, you never quite relaxed into the secure sanctuary of your bedroom walls.

The crappy TV in your room had the worst sound and you had spent most of the night pretending to watch the poor quality video while Esme and Maggie rotated between bridesmaid talk, the new pack of wolves you had brought home and how many muscles Derek was hiding under his shirt -that particular topic seemed to interest Maggie more that Esme, who simply made disinterested noises every time her better half brought up the topic.

"I mean… I bet his muscles have muscles..." Maggie ate her spoon full of ice-cream slowly, mind elsewhere. "He seems like the kind of guy who would work out shirtless."

"Come with us, and all this chaos can end. Come with us and I'll tell you the truth."

Esme sighed, "If you like him so much, marry him." her words weren't mean or unpleasant, simply the ramblings of a bored woman tired of hearing Maggie fawn over Derek's muscles.

"Come with us and you will learn of your importance to the Order... And the fate of the world."

"I mean… with your permission," Maggie said sarcastically before peppering what could only be cold kisses onto Esme’s cheek, smudging her rouge lipstick all over your older sisters face. Esme didn't mind it one bit.

"All we want is you."

"Easy there, future Mrs Quinn-Markolf," Esme wiped the lipstick smudges onto her t-shirt sleeve. "You keep smothering me like this and I may just have to rethink the, 'Till death do us part' clause in our vows."

Maggie snorted, "Yeah, you'll have to rethink it if you think I'm going to be known as Maggie Quinn-Markolf for the rest of my life."

"Your blood is special.”

Esme pulled away from Maggie, “What? Is Quinn-Markolf not euphonic enough for you? I thought our love was stronger than the clashing sounds of our hyphenated last names!” she retorted.

“Your lineage is special.”

Maggie scrunched her nose and gave a blunt, “Nah, you’d be sorely mistaken there, love.” Esme gasped and Maggie peppered her cheek with more kisses before she could escape from beneath the covers, “I am only codding ya!”

“You are special."

Despite the playful atmosphere, you were too distracted to enjoy the moment.

Esme noticed you had been absent from their conversations and she chalked it up to more than just exhaustion or anti-social behaviour, "You okay, squirt?" she nudged you with her shoulder.

You hummed, taken by surprise by the question. "Yeah, why?"

"Because you've been a little… distant tonight," Maggie finished her thought for her.

"I..." you wanted to say everything was fine. You wanted to put up a brave front and soldier on, but something in you cracked and you had to hold back a sob as you finally caved in, revealing everything that had happened to you since you saved Derek in the vet clinic. You even revealed the part about you almost agreeing to be the sacrificial lamb when Alyster was in your head.

Neither your sister nor her fiancé said anything, they just let you talk and talk until you passed out. It felt good to be open and truthful without the fear of sudden judgement.

The next day, when you woke up, you were squished between Esme and Maggie. Their soft snores waking you from the longest sleep you'd had in a long while. It felt good to get that off your chest. But for some reason, the atmosphere in the house changed. It grew a little more tense.

The days following your homecoming blended together. The pack had spent their free time doing research and trying to come up with a viable plan of action. Liam, Jonah and Theo began to form an odd bond over their werewolf otherness -Liam with his IED, Jonah with his ADHD and Theo with his being a Chimera. Together, they were one ingredient short of turning into some form of an incendiary device. Their energy was exhausting, as was their constant rough-housing. You couldn't fathom how Maggie managed to reign them in whenever they got too rowdy. 

Things with Derek were different. He was more distant and whenever you did interact, he'd act pricklier than usual. He was giving you the cold shoulder. Most of the time, if he could avoid it, he wouldn't look you in the eye when he talked to you. His jaw would twitch every now and again as he spoke between clenched teeth. Peter delighted himself in watching your painful interaction. He’d always have a snide comment that would cause Derek to sigh or just walk away.

It was like Derek was being accosted by your very presence and that drove you up the wall. That was why you were storming into the woods at dawn in old combat boots and baggy pyjamas. This behaviour couldn’t continue. You wouldn’t allow it.

You found him in the middle of the meadow, he was shirtless and sweating. His biceps were straining as he dipped his body low in a single armed push-up. You were dazed for a moment, the first glimmers of daybreak causing his sweat slickened body to glisten. It seems Maggie was correct in assuming he worked out without a shirt. A flush burned at your cheeks and you bit your tongue in frustration. Damn him and his perfectly chiselled muscles.

"What are you doing out here so early?" he grumbled out without looking at you.

"I have a bone to pick with you. Didn't want to do it in front of the others," You placed your hands on your hips as though that would make you look more imposing. It didn't. 

He stood and let out a strained exhale, bare chest heaving up and down as his midriff tensed and relaxed with every breath. He brushed a hand through his dark, sweaty hair and strode over, picking up his water bottle and spritzing himself with water in an effort to cool himself down.

You could have sworn you saw some of the moisture evaporate off his body. It made you gulp.

"Alright," he was panting, eyes dark. "What is it?" his jaw did that thing again and your face grew even redder. You hoped he'd chalk it up to anger.

"You've been acting… strange around me ever since we got here. Most days you don't even look at me. Usually, this wouldn’t bother me, but we’re supposed to be working together here and I can’t help but feel like maybe I did something wrong... Well did I?"

His eyes narrowed, "Did you do something wrong?" he repeated the question with a condescending tone and then laughed darkly. "Oh, I don't know. I'm usually elated whenever the person I'm trying to protect from sudden death flirts with the idea of giving themselves over to the homicidal maniac that's been stalking them across the country!"

You gasped, "You heard me?"

He rolled his eyes at you, "Of course I heard you! The whole house heard you! You live with a family of werewolves that have super hearing!"

You were growing antsy. What gave him the right to be so angry over something that didn't concern him? What gave him the right to eavesdrop on your private conversations with Esme and Maggie?

You were positively fuming now, "Well, since you took it upon yourself to listen in on my private conversation--"

"I wasn't listening in. I have supernatural hearing!"

You held up your hand to hush him, "Let me finish. Since your supernatural hearing picked up on my private conversation, then you obviously heard why I flirted with the idea of giving myself over to that homicidal maniac. He promised to let you live. I thought you were going to die… all of you."

"That doesn't make things better. He could have been lying to you for all you knew!"

"What if he wasn’t?

"He was!"

"What if he wasn't and all this madness would have ended once I gave myself up?"

"I don’t believe that! And neither should you. I can’t believe you were so reckless. Do you have any idea…" He ran a hand over his scruff roughly. “We promised to protect you. How do you think I would have felt if you wound up dead? Or how Scott would have felt? We chose to put our lives on the line. That was our choice.”

"If it comes down to me choosing between myself and everybody else, it’s simple math. It's my life! I never asked you to try and take it upon yourself to save me! I don't need your permission."

"Maybe you don't get a say in the matter!" Derek's eyes turned blue as he took a step closer to you. “Math isn’t all it’s about. It’s not all check and balance. Death isn’t permanent for everyone else who’s left behind. It just becomes an addition to their own equation.”

You were shaking now, voice going hoarse from all the shouting, "What gives you the right to presume to know what is and isn't best for me or what I can and cannot get a say in?" You finger poked at his chest repeatedly.

He wrapped his strong hands around your wrist, but there was no pressure, he simply used his hold over you to pull you closer so you could better hear his whispers, "Absolutely nothing."

Voice feather-light, you whispered back with a searching gaze, "Then why are you so mad with me for trying to do the right thing?"

"Because..." he tried to explain but gave up with a sigh and then dropped his water bottle.

Before you knew it, Derek's arms snaked around your body and his lips crashed onto yours in a heady kiss. His sharp canines grazed over your sensitive tongue and lips in a seductively dangerous manner. The kiss felt dangerous…forbidden. The perfect balance between pain and pleasure.

You gasped in shock when he deepened the kiss, his tongue coaxing yours to become as fervent as his -lapping, suckling and massaging tender flesh in sweet torment. A deep rumble emerged from his chest that caused your locked tongues to vibrate. Instinctively, he pulled you closer until you were pressed flush to his hot body. You moaned on reflex and felt blood rush to your head until your vision started to spin.

When he finally broke away, you stumbled and took a few breaths to try and gather your wits. Derek's wolfishly warm palms were cupping your face, forcing you to stare up into his deep green eyes. "Because you drive me insane." He finally finished.

"Oh..." a frog set itself in your throat and you had to clear it with a few awkward sounds, "I- Uhem! I, uh… didn't know that. I… I-"

You were flustered and in shock, your body burning with a sensual desire you hadn't had a second ago. All you could think about was how good his lips felt on yours. How soft and tender and deep the kiss was. How talented his tongue was.

You had to fan yourself to try and cool your skin. When that wasn't enough, you grabbed Derek's water bottle off the ground and sprayed yourself with the remnants inside.

With a shrill gasp, you turned to Derek, mustering what little dignity and authority you had left and spoke sternly at him, "That still doesn't excuse your behaviour. I'm glad we could resolve this like adults. I'll see you at the house. I have… things to do. Have a good… exercise."

You nodded to yourself and marched away, leaving the sounds of Derek's baffled chuckles behind. Before you reached the house, Jonah had appeared out of some unseen position and stopped you mid-stride. You shrieked from freight and frowned at him when he gave you an apologetic look.

"Jesus, Speedy! Don’t do that… Announce yourself next time or wear a bell," you steadied your breathing. "What is it?"

"Sorry, it's just, Maggie you know, she… uh, sent me with a message and told me to get to you as quickly as possible," Jonah rambled.

You placed a hand on his shoulder to slow him down, "Talk. Slower."

He nodded, a yawn deforming his smile, "She -Ah, good you're here, I don't have to run after you too. And, oh wow, you’re shirtless. I like running around shirtless too. Esme doesn’t like it though. She says I blind her with my pale skin. It’s not my fault that I can’t tan as nicely as the rest of the family," he spoke to someone behind you.

You turned and noticed Derek had run down from the meadow after hearing you scream. The flush from before threatened to return but you chose to focus on Jonah’s message and not Derek's intense stare.

"Right, okay, back to why Maggie sent me out here to look for you guys," Jonah continued. "She thinks she's cracked it."

"Cracked what?" Derek asked as he pulled his shirt over his shoulders.

"You know, the mystery behind the hunters who’ve been killing werewolves all over the place and what it is exactly that they want," Jonah smacked his palm on his forehead. "She thinks she knows what they are too, thanks to that book Caleb sent her –Caleb is her brother in Ireland– Deaton and that clumsy dude… Stiles, they helped her with everything. They spent all night translating this book with a girl called... Lyria? Lyra? I can’t--" he clicked his fingers repeatedly as though that would magically bring the name back to him.

"Lydia," Derek stated.

Jonah clicked his fingers once more before continuing, "Yeah, her! Anyway. Family meeting in five. Chop-chop. Before Maggie sends Esme after me… And I don't want that."

Jonah sprinted for the house and you were left a little winded by everything.

Derek placed his hand on the small of your back to urge you forward and you shuddered beneath his simple touch and he snatched his hand away as if your skin had electrocuted him.

Things just got complicated.

 To be continued...

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