#or even 'ah. the argents. i think i saw that one in the news once?'

[queenwolf]

allison IS a relatively known figure in certain circles. the argent name is a known name and, though much of its history is tainted, it still holds its weight when convenient and necessary. this is even more true as allison grows into her role as the sort of monarch of the name and paves a way for a better reputation.

[seven-oomen]

The way I tend to be | The DILF Club

Happy Holidays to everyone! Have some delicious smut or our favorite DILFS, there's even some plot in this! Hope you like it because I have a universe thought out for this and if it does well, I'll share more!

It wasn’t doing as well on Ao3 as I was hoping for and I’m curious to see if it’ll do better here. If you enjoy it, please reblog, like, and/or comment on it. This is also a test to see if people still reblog fanfiction from me and if Once Upon a Time would do well on Tumblr. Which is my longest and most elaborate fanfic to date.

Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Sheriff Stilinski, Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Chris Argent/Sheriff Stilinski, Peter Hale/Sheriff Stilinski Characters: Chris Argent, Peter Hale, Sheriff Stilinski Additional Tags: Sheriff Stilinski's Name is Noah, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Cabin Fic, trans chris argent, Bisexual Peter Hale, Alpha Peter Hale, Trans Male Character, Bisexual Sheriff Stilinski, Bisexual Chris Argent, Double Vaginal Penetration, Double Penetration, Breeding, Creampie, Unprotected Sex Series: Part 1 of The way I tend to be

-

Fate could be a very cruel mistress when she wanted to be. And often she came together with a little vicious thing called irony.

The last year had been crazy. He discovered werewolves, banshees, wendigos, and werecoyotes were real, and so was whatever Kira was supposed to be. Chris Argent, Allison’s father and Isaac’s foster father, turned out to be a hunter, and the little bane of his existence during his career as a deputy, a certain Peter Hale, turned out to be a werewolf. As was Peter’s nephew Derek and his niece Cora. He still couldn’t completely wrap his head around that one.

They’d fought together, protected the town together, and now protected their children together.

That didn’t always go well, of course. One of them was a hunter, the other a werewolf, and somehow he always found himself right in between the other two trying to break up their fights.

A lot, and a lot of therapy for all three of them, had fixed that for the most part.

Still, there were times when he really wished he could duct tape Peter to the ceiling, mostly because the man was still a delinquent with a golden tongue, but mostly just because he was annoying. At least the werewolf was now firmly on their side and had proven that by nearly dying for both the other adults and all of the kids on multiple occasions. He’d really turned a new leaf. Still annoying as fuck, don’t get him wrong. But at least not reprehensible.

It was Peter’s new loyalty and Chris’s new code that had led him to go along with them on this particular mission. A mission to find a lone werewolf kid causing trouble around Mount Shasta. Since it was only two hours from Beacon Hills, he’d agreed to go over with the other two.

Their cover?

They were the chaperons on a school field trip to go skiing on the mountain for a week. Which had been the luckiest of coincidences in the history of coincidences but he’d take it. And since Stiles, Mikey, Malia, Jackson, Isaac, and Allison were all going, well, the rest of that was history.

“Peter, I swear to god if I find your socks anywhere near my bed again I will throw you through this window myself!” Chris snapped, holding up a pair of light blue socks with pink flamingos on them.

Ah. So that’s where his socks had gone off too. He was wondering where’d he left them.

“Those aren’t mine!” Peter bit back, looking so insulted at the mere idea of having to wear said socks that he couldn’t help but be offended at his offense. “I would never wear those monstrosities!”

“Right, I just keep finding random people’s socks in my bed for the last three days…” Chris growled, “You expect me to believe that?”

He bit his lip, wondering if he should admit to being the culprit. Since he was the only other person who had a bed in this room he figured Chris would draw that conclusion as well. But apparently, the hunter really hadn’t considered it.

The werewolf cocked his head to the left and sneered. “I’m not the only one who has a bed here beside you.”

Those fierce blue eyes turned to him and he couldn’t help but smile awkwardly at the both of them. “Yeah, those are mine.”

Peter smirked triumphantly at Chris, his eyebrows raised in a clear; I told you so.

To his credit, Chris pursed his lips and wordlessly handed him the bunched up socks of the last few days. His silver-blue eyes lingering with something that wasn’t quite a glare, but the man wasn’t exactly happy with him either.

“Thank you.” He quickly put his runaway socks into his duffel bag and straightened out the covers on his bed to keep himself busy.

“You owe me an apology, Christopher…” Peter’s voice sang through the room and a glance found the hunter glaring back at the wolf.

“I’m sorry for blaming you immediately.” Chris sighed, straightening out his own bed before checking the equipment in his backpack.

“Thank you,” Peter turned back to him and stared at him rather expectantly. “Noah?”

He had to admit he felt a little bit guilty for what had happened. He sighed softly as he shoved his water bottle, his sleeping bag, and some provisions into his backpack, looking up at the wolf sheepishly. “I’m sorry Peter, I’ll uh-” His eyes flicked to an expectant looking Chris, “I’ll keep a better eye on my socks and speak up when you’re blamed again.”

The wolf smiled mischievously at his apology, his eyes flicking from Chris to himself for a brief moment. “Thank you, now we really need to talk about your fashion choices, because those socks-”

Chris’s laughter followed him out of the room as he grabbed his packed bag and his orange ski jacket and headed out the door.

-

The trek up the mountain was not an easy one and they only had until nightfall to explore the area. He pulled the black beanie further over his ears and his gloves on a little tighter and looked over his shoulder.

Chris walked ahead of him, his blue ski jacket standing out against the white snow, a red beanie pulled over his ears to keep him warm.

Peter brought up the rear, his red ski jacket and brown beanie complementing one another in a rather surprising way. But if anyone could pull it off, he supposed it was the wolf.

They pushed through the snow and the wind, hoisting backpacks up higher and threading on while trying to find one lonely werewolf kid who needed their help. The wind started picking up as the hours progressed and once the snow started coming down and whipped around them, he realized that they weren’t going to be able to get back any time soon.

With their sight blocked off by the sudden incoming storm and nowhere to huddle they had no other choice but to walk on. He could no longer see where he was walking, only saw the bright blue of Chris’s ski jacket in front of him and before he knew it, he was face down in the snow and heard someone yelling his name.

“Noah!”

Someone picked him up and he felt two gloved hands cup his face. It took him a moment to register that it was Peter who picked him up and was currently cradling his face. He wasn’t sure how the concerned look on Peter’s face made him feel.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but it was one he hadn’t been expecting. It was warm and tingly. Peter’s blue eyes made him think of the ocean and moonlit beaches with a soft breeze and the soft calls of whales in the background-

“Noah… Are you still on this planet?”

Peter’s words pulled him out of his thoughts. “What?”

The wolf frowned at him and gently patted him over his body to check him for injuries. He swatted at the wolf’s hands to put a stop to it and pursed his lips. “I’m fine, but we need to get out of the cold.”

Peter raised an eyebrow but nodded in agreement, turning back to Chris who had come towards them. “We need to get out of this wind, find shelter!”

“I know!” Chris yelled back, trying to carry his voice over the roar of the wind. “I think I saw a cabin up ahead!”

Chris looped his arm over his left while Peter looped his through his right and together they started tracking up the slope. The silhouette of the cabin quickly came closer with every step and they quickly headed over. They had to let go of each other to walk up the porch and Chris tested the door. It was locked, of course.

“Shit.” Chris muttered, “Look around for a key, usually-”

He started looking under several pots next to the door and found a key under the second one. Though a loud bang told him that they would no longer need a key.

“Or we could kick in the door…” Chris sighed while Peter held the door open for them to let them in.

Chris went in first, drawing his gun from inside his jacket as he checked the cabin room for room. He followed after the hunter, trying to suppress his hands from shaking and his body from shivering as the cold started to set in around him. Some snow had gotten into his jacket when he’d face-planted into the ground and it was creating a wet spot on his clothes as his body heat caused it to melt. The water also cooled down his body, especially in these temperatures.

Peter brought up the rear once more, eyes glowing a bright red as he scanned their surroundings and scented the air. The wolf behind him relaxed after a few moments, closing the door behind him by propping a chair from the little kitchen under the handle so it stayed locked.

“Cabin’s empty.” Peter and Chris said in unison. They walked up to him, frowning as they noticed his shivering, though he was doing his best to suppress it. He felt Peter’s incredibly warm hand against his forehead and couldn’t help but lean into it. He wasn’t sure how hot Peter ran in general, but it was definitely a few degrees higher than Chris or himself. Right now, that was a very welcome feature of the werewolf.

“He’s colder than he should be,” Peter muttered, gently guiding him towards the large fireplace in the middle of the room. “Come on, let’s get you heated up.”

“Did his jacket rip?” Chris asked, looking around for paper, wood, and other items they could burn.

Peter patted him down, despite his best efforts to keep the wolf’s hands off him. Werewolf strength could be quite unfair and if he wasn’t so damn cold he would have complained about the little shit sitting him down and throwing his own red ski jacket over him.

“Doesn’t seem to be but the collar is all wet and against his skin, looks like snow got in.”

“Aren’t you gonna get cold?” He raised an eyebrow at the black sweater Peter was wearing but also pulled the jacket closer and breathed in the wolf’s scent.

“I run a hundred and two degrees on a normal day.” Peter smiled, his face illuminated by the first sparks of the fire that Chris got running. It gave him a warm… almost soft look.

“It’s a werewolf thing,” Chris added, “Their body heat is higher than ours, it protects them from hypothermia, aids in their immunity against disease as well. One of those unfair advantages.”

He chuckled in response, his shivering already dying down now that the heat from the fire picked up and he had an extra layer. “That so?”

Peter hummed in agreement. “As is our superior sense of fashion.”

“Even Derek?” He asked, earning a laugh from Chris.

Peter pursed his lips and squinted his eyes. “Derek’s the exception to that rule.”

A laugh escaped him as Peter sat down next to him, though the laugh died on his lips as he noticed the concerned look Peter was giving the fire. It sobered him up considerably, knowing what Peter had been through, how close he was now sitting to something that had hurt him so much.

“Are you okay?”

The softness of his voice must have drawn Chris’s attention as well as the hunter had turned to look at them, his brow furrowing as he watched Peter’s face carefully. “Peter?”

Chris sat down on his other side, keeping a close eye on Peter while pretending to stare at the fire. Still, he noticed how Chris’s hands twitched in his lap and his eyes kept flicking to the wolf.

For a moment it seemed like Peter was lost in thought, staring into the growing fire with widening eyes. He noticed the wolf’s breathing picking up and his shaking hands. He carefully reached out and laid his own hand on top of Peter’s, startling the other man.

“What?” Peter relaxed at his touch and leaned into him unconsciously. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. It’s just-”

His eyes flicked back to the fire.

He didn’t have to say it out loud.

“Yeah,” He pulled Peter’s jacket closer and pulled his legs up to minimize the loss of warmth. “We can turn it down if you need that.”

Chris frowned at those words, eyes flicking from him to Peter, before slowly nodding in agreement. “It wouldn’t be ideal, but if it’s hurting you-”

“No.” Peter quickly interrupted him. “No, I’m fine. And you both need the fire. I just- I might need a distraction.”

“Distraction?” Chris raised an eyebrow at the word, earning a smirk from Peter in the process.

“Yes, the dictionary defines it as a thing that prevents someone from concentrating on something else. Or do you need a clearer definition, Christopher?”

“You don’t have to be a dick about it, Peter…” Chris looked down at his hands and shrugged. “We all have our own demons we want to forget.”

Peter went a little quiet at that, staring down at his feet while he scooted closer to him. “You’re right, it’s just-” His eyes flicked back to the fire.

“I get it…” Chris’s smile was soft as the hunter reached behind him to lay a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

It was nice, to be wedged between the two younger men and feel their warmth seep through him. He let himself lean back against Chris’s arm and laid his head on Peter’s shoulder. It just felt like the right thing to do in that moment. “It’s okay.” He whispered.

Chris frowned as he noticed the color difference of his gray sweater and trailed a hand over it, stopping at the collar as he felt the dampness. His warm hand trailed down over his collarbone and down his chest until he hit a dry spot. “You’re half soaked, we need to get that sweater off you and get you in something dry.”

He looked down at his body and froze. He didn’t show his bare chest to anyone. Ever. Even while sharing a room with the other two, he’d always gone to the bathroom to change. There were certain things he didn’t want anyone else to know, his past being one of them.

If anyone understands, it would be these two.

A little voice in his head told him. Yeah, it was right and he knew that. But what if they’d look at him differently?

Chris handed him a dark green sweater from his bag, having dragged said bag over with his foot, and gently started lifting his shirt. The hunter stopped after an inch and raised an eyebrow.

He was asking for permission.

He slowly shook his head. “I’ll do it.” And gently peeled the half wet garment from him and over his head. Constantly aware of what his aging body looked like. At fifty-three his best days had passed. He wasn’t as muscled as Peter or as lean and strong as Chris. His chest had a softness to it from all the fast food he’d been eating and he was showing his age with little marks, freckles, and the scars from years of abuse. The most obvious one being the scar on his left shoulder.

He paused for a second, jumping a little when Chris’s hand hovered over the scar. Though the hunter pulled away quickly and looked like he might apologize. Though the words seemed to get stuck in his throat.

“What happened?” It was Peter who broke the silence.

He wasn’t sure what he could say, felt tears prickling in his eyes and for a moment he heard his father’s booming vague voice ringing through his ears. “My father happened, he uhm, I didn’t let him hurt my mother,” He sighed, “and he pushed me through our coffee table.”

“Jesus…” Peter whispered, gently squeezing his right shoulder in comfort.

“I’m sorry…” Chris muttered, rubbing his own scarred hands in discomfort.

“We all have our own demons… Right?” He shrugged and put Chris’s green sweater on, quickly figuring out that the fit would work but was on the tight side as the edges of his sleeves stopped a little too high on the wrist. It was also a little on the short side at the middle.

He sighed. “At least it’s dry.”

Peter bit his lip and looked like he was having great difficulty with keeping his laughter contained. “It doesn’t look that bad…”

Chris wasn’t as kind and snorted before trying to cover it up with a cough.

He glared at the younger man but smiled after a minute or two. “Thank you, Chris.”

Chris let his eyes roam down and grinned. “You’re welcome.”

He laid his head back on Peter’s shoulder and pulled Chris closer for his warmth.

“So neither of you is going to distract me then?”

He didn’t know why he found that statement so funny but he couldn’t help but laugh at the annoyance in Peter’s voice. He felt Chris smile against his shoulder as the hunter laid his head down on it for a second.

“How do you propose we do that, Peter?” The hunter lifted his head and leaned in just a bit, just inches away from Peter’s face.

The wolf answered Chris with a smirk. Gently putting a finger under Chris’s chin to pull him closer. “I have an idea, it’ll also keep you both warm.”

“Will it now?” Chris’s smooth deep voice send a shiver down his spine and made his cock twitch. He swallowed rather heavily in response.

God, he wanted Chris to command him in that voice, to tell him to take off his clothes and put his ass up in the air and-

“I think someone likes the sound of that voice…” Peter purred into his ear, the wolf laid a finger under his chin and lifted his head to face Chris.

“Do it again.”

He stared into Chris’s silver-blue eyes, warmth traveling down his body and stirring in his loins as the hunter smiled deviously.

“Hmm, what do you think sheriff ?” Chris purred the last word, he couldn’t help the little sound of desperation that escaped him. A sound that he echoed as Peter leaned in and gently nipped at his ear.

“I think he hates it.” Peter grinned against his cheek and slowly started nipping his way down his jaw and to his neck. “I think he might want us to stop.”

The wolf paused and he growled in response, reaching behind him to cup the back of Peter’s head and pull him back down. “Don’t you dare, Peter.”

Peter laughed in response and gently pulled him into his lap before continuing his lovely assault on his neck. He moaned happily and wiggled a little to get more comfortable and rub his ass against the growing bulge beneath him. Peter’s laugh dissolved into a moan.

Chris smirked at them, slowly trailing his hands up Noah’s thighs though he stopped just short of his groin, a silent question in his eyes. He nodded enthusiastically, too occupied to answer due to Peter biting the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck without breaking it. “Fuck me…”

Peter paused in his marking efforts, growling into his ear as he forced him to focus on Chris by grabbing a hold of his jaw. He felt Peter’s nails gently scratching his skin. “Oh, I think Christopher might have a better idea.”

Chris’s hand traveled up and cupped his cock through his pants, gently rubbing and stimulating the hardening member. He in turn squirmed in Peter’s lap and felt the Alpha’s clothed cock press against the cleft of his ass.

“Does he now?” He moaned softly.

Chris scooted closer and placed a leg on each side of his lap, sharing a passionate kiss with Peter before he turned his focus back on Noah. Chris pulled him up a little by the collar of his borrowed sweater and for a moment he thought the younger man would kiss him as well. Chris leaned in but stopped just short and smiled. “I’m gonna ride you both at the same time.”

As hot as that sounded, his brain short-circuited for a moment. He paused and blinked, cocking his head to the left as he tried to figure out how exactly that was going to work. “How is that gonna fit, we don’t have lube.”

Chris chuckled in response and gently lifted Noah’s hands to cup his ass. “You’re just gonna have to get me wet enough.”

Wet enough? He was missing something here. Not that he was complaining, Chris’s ass was phenomenal.

Peter took pity on him. “I think he doesn’t know. Maybe you should show him.”

The absolutely feral grin Chris gave him made his breath stutter.

“Let’s have some fun then.”

He felt Peter smile against his neck, the Alpha going back to his assault to suck a few more hickeys into the sensitive skin. That was gonna be a bitch to hide from Stiles, Mikey, and Liam but considering that every touch sent electricity through his body, he wasn’t going to complain much.

Chris opened his own pants but didn’t slip them down. Instead, he zipped down Noah’s and continued his teasing touch.

A soft squeaky moan escaped him as Chris’s hand rubbed him through the fabric and slowly massaged him to a throbbing erection. Peter in the meantime had started rubbing himself against his ass while continuing his assault on his neck and even his shoulders. He was gonna be bruised and sore by tomorrow, that was for sure.

“He’s pretty when he’s marked up,” Chris commented as he slipped his hand inside Noah’s underwear and wrapped a hand around his hard cock. The other man stroked it slowly, keeping his touch light and gentle as he worked from the sensitive head to the base, and then slipped him out of his restraining clothes as he worked himself back up.

“Pretty down there too…” The hunter remarked, smiling as he studied Noah’s cock for a moment, fingers tracing over the thick veins down to his balls.

Peter let out a delighted moan behind him, one that he echoed as the wolf made him grind down on while Peter thrust up. It was a goddamn shame they didn’t have any lube because he really wanted that thick cock to wreck his ass right then and there. But Chris clearly had a different plan.

The hunter guided one of his left hand from its place on Chris’s ass up to his own mouth, offering him his own fingers with a firm. “Suck on them, get them wet.”

Processing that command took him a second but he caught on quickly and started sucking on his index and middle finger. Bobbing his head up and down and swirling his tongue around the digits until they were coated in his own saliva.

Chris gently pulled Noah’s fingers free after a few moments and guided his hand down Chris’s pants. His mouth opening in a little ‘O’ when his fingers didn’t brush over a hard cock but instead found soft curls and a wet cunt. Oh, that made a whole lot of sense. His cock twitched excitedly and he couldn’t help but grin and lick his lips as he slowly started rubbing the soft folds and sensitive clit. Using his wet fingers as lube to ease his way.

Chris’s breath hitched as he circled the sensitive little nub and applied varying amounts of pressure. He enthusiastically met him for a passionate kiss, causing Peter to groan, followed by a desperate moan once the wolf caught on what they were doing.

He heard a zipper behind him opening and felt the brush of Peter’s hand against his ass. Knowing Peter, he was practically drooling while jerking himself off as he watched them make out.

“Fuck that’s hot,” Peter whispered.

Chris grinned against his lips and leaned back, watching both of them with a hungry leer. The hunter leaned back and pulled away much to his dismay. His wet hand dropped to his side and he held it up to get a quick taste of Chris. He felt Peter practically vibrate behind him as he let out a hungry moan.

Chris came back quickly with one of the sleeping bags, zipped it open and laid it out on the floor before he took off his pants and commanded him in that silky voice, “Lay down on your back.”

The command made him shiver and he scrambled quickly to do the hunter’s bidding. Laying down on the sleeping bag. He was rewarded for his quick action by a gentle blow on his cock and the hunter’s questioning gaze.

“Please…” He begged softly, squirming at Chris’s burning look. God, he wanted Chris to ride em like he stole em and talk dirty to him until his toes curled and he came screaming their names. Judging by the hungry smile the hunter sent him in return, his fantasy might just be fulfilled tonight.

“Please what, sheriff ?” The hunter’s voice vibrated through him and he noticed Peter shuddering as well. The wolf’s breath ragged and his cock leaking precum.

“Oh for the love of God, Chris if you don’t start sucking me off-” He moaned as Chris licked a path from his balls to the tip of his cock before deep throating him in one smooth move, effectively cutting him off.

The hunter hollowed his cheeks and slowly worked his way up, making his toes curl as warmth exploded through him, and his heart hammered in his chest.

He felt Peter settle, one knee on each side of his head, and looked up to see the wolf was offering him his own hard member. He smirked and lapped at the leaking head, moaning at the slightly bitter but not unpleasant taste.

“Turn your ass around Chris I want to taste you,” Peter growled.

Chris demonstrated just how flexible he could be by putting a leg on either side of him and raising his hips in the air without hitting him in the process, his lips never leaving their attention to his cock.

Peter’s appreciative moan had him shivering in response. He continued his worship of the wolf’s member with short licks to the head and worked his way down to the heavy balls, taking each in his mouth and rolled it around on his tongue before working his way back up.

He heard Chris moan, long and filthy above him, and watched as Peter’s enthusiastic licking, sucking, and tongue fucking of Chris’s cunt was met with equal enthusiasm as Chris fucked the wolf’s face. He felt the hunter’s legs contract and shudder after a few minutes, gasps escaping Chris as he came hard on Peter’s tongue. He even felt some fluid hit him on the chin as the hunter squirted his juices over them, much to his surprise and Peter’s delight.

“I hoped you could still do that.” The Alpha growled, playfully biting Chris’s ass without breaking the skin and slapping his other cheek.

Chris pulled away from them and took a few strides and deep breaths to come down from his high. Then grinned and swayed his hips as he walked back to them and smoothly straddled him.

“Oh, I can do far more than that.” The hunter chuckled. “What do you say?”

He groaned softly and quickly nodded his consent. “Please…”

Peter growled in response, red eyes glowing as he walked around them to sink behind Chris. “Why don’t you ride us, sweetheart?”

Chris smirked in return. Gently grabbing a hold of his cock and guiding him into the hunter’s tight wet heat. He nearly came on the spot but managed to hold back just enough by focusing on a spot on the ceiling and letting out a slow breath to ground himself while Chris slowly got used to his length and girth. He wasn’t the biggest or thickest guy, and thankfully neither was Peter or this was never gonna fit, but neither of them were exactly small either and Chris would need to adjust to each of them.

After a moment or two, the hunter slowly raised himself and moved his hips in slow, long strokes until he slid in and out easily and Chris could pick up some pace. His toes started curling and the warmth in his belly started pooling slowly, gradually building with each thrust and stroke until Chris pulled up enough to keep only the tip of his cock in.

He hadn’t even noticed Peter coming closer until the wolf aligned the head of his cock against his own as he slowly pushed the first few inches into Chris’s cunt beside him.

“Fuck…” He moaned, eyes rolling back into his head as Chris slowly sank on both of their cocks. They rubbed together in the tight wet heat of Chris’s cunt and he could feel every pulse, throb, and twitch coming from the wolf’s cock.

Chris paused once he had them both down halfway, his chest heaving with every breath and a large grin on his face. The hunter leaned over him, sinking himself further on Noah’s cock but forcing Peter’s further out. Chris then grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head, checking over his shoulder to see if Peter was on board, who grinned in return.

The moment Chris started moving, riding him like a prized stallion, Peter pushed his hips up every time Chris pushed down. Rubbing both their cocks together, lubed by Chris’s juices as the entire lengths met and rolled together with each thrust.

A string of moans and desperate little sounds left his throat as he surrendered to the warmth and feelings of pleasure that surged through him with every move. He felt it intensifying with each stroke, each move. Amplified by the wet sounds of Chris’s cunt and his little moans of pleasure, Peter’s growls and harder thrusts and by the twitching and throbbing of the wolf’s cock besides his own.

He managed to hold out for several minutes before his toes curled, his body convulsed and heat exploded in his loins. His cock twitched and pulsed as he came hard and in long spurts, while Chris continued to ride him and Peter continued to thrust in beside his twitching cock.

It didn’t take long for the wolf to let out a long moan and join him. Their cocks twitching and throbbing together as they came deep inside Chris and filled him with their cum. He felt Peter slump forward, held up by Chris as the wolf shuddered his last wave of ecstasy.

Chris continued to ride them, though the movement of his hips was greatly reduced due to Peter’s weight on his back. Milking them for every last drop they had. Only when they were spent and Peter was practically napping from exhaustion did he let them slip from him.

The hunter gently maneuvered Peter from his back to lay him down on Noah’s right, furthest away from the fire and rummaged through his own backpack for wet wipes to clean them up.

“Now that was a distraction.” Noah grinned, pleased when Chris winked at him.

It took a minute for Peter to come back to them with a dopey grin. Watching with interest as Chris did his best to clean them and himself from all traces of their fucking. Pouting a little as the hunter pushed out as much of their cum as he could and wiped it away.

“That’s a damn shame…” Peter muttered. “We tried so hard to breed you.”

Chris merely chuckled. “Wasn’t gonna work anyway, I’ve been on testosterone for sixteen years and have an IUD. The odds of you knocking me up are astronomical.”

He couldn’t help but frown at Chris’s words, for tempting fate was never a particularly good idea. But on the other hand, the hunter did have a point on how unlikely it would be. They weren’t the youngest, Chris was on hormones, and if he also had an IUD. What on Earth were the odds then? They couldn’t be high to begin with, even if in the best circumstances.

So he scoffed and pulled his pants back up. Peter did the same and Chris located his and put them on as well. Another sleeping bag was pulled from somewhere. His jacket was put up near the fire, on the back of a chair to dry further. And Chris laid down next to them on the sleeping bag to hunker down for the next few hours until the storm died down.

At least they were warm, comfortable, and utterly sated for now.

He dozed off knowing that their dynamic had shifted. Yes, he still wanted to duct tape Peter to the ceiling. And Chris could still be a jerk when he wanted to be. But at the very least, this was the start to a very fun beneficial rump for all three of them. Whatever else fate wanted to throw at them, they could only wait and see.

-

So what do we think? Do we want more of this universe? Do we want more DILF smut? More Chris/Peter/Noah?

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[cracked-pean]

In Case You Didn’t Know

Characters: Derek Hale, Female! Reader, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Allison Argent, Lydia Martin, and Slight Mention of Melissa McCall.

Word Count: 2,238

Warnings: None. Just Fluffy stuff.

Masterlist

A/N: This is one of my favorite songs and I couldn’t help myself. Hope you enjoy it. Feel free to leave your thoughts and feedback.

+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

The party was in full swing. Allison and Scott in the middle of the dance floor with a Stiles that looked like he was on a sugar high, and Lydia and Malia dancing together beside them. Everyone was gathered together to celebrate the happy couple on their wedding day. Allison and Scott had only been engaged for a few months but couldn't wait till next year.

[Y/N] had just stepped out of the crowd to go to the bar and get a drink. She turned around to face the venue and let out a happy sigh. Everything had been so beautiful, from the reception, to the decorations, to the cake. [Y/N] wasn't a fan of the whole wedding thing. Mainly because she just never had any luck in the love department and the one person she had eyes for was not here.

"What you got there?"

A voice to her right spoke. She glanced down at her drink, "It's a- you know what, I don't know," she chuckled. "Whatever it is it's st-" she glanced to the stranger and was taken by surprise.

"Oh my god, Derek," she quickly set the drink down and embraced the man.

"I thought you weren't gonna make it. They all said you wouldn't," he returned the action and gave a laugh.

"As if I was gonna miss this celebration and reunion."

The gang had all been busy. Stiles was in Virginia,  Quantico to be exact in the FBI. Lydia was off at MIT. Malia took off the second she graduated, apparently she finally got to go to France. Allison and Scott went to school together, got their degrees and somewhere in between got engaged. With Scott being alpha, he couldn't leave the town unprotected. So, Allison being the best that she was stayed behind with him. [Y/N] had stayed in Beacon Hills as well. With her helping run her family's restaurant, she couldn't be happier. As for Derek. He had gone back to New York, needing a new change in scenery. To say it's been a long time since they all were together was an understatement. It had been 3 years. With the distance and busy lives they lived, they still managed to stay in contact and act as if nothing ever changed. She saw the couple almost everyday, with them having to walk past the restaurant to and from work and the occasional dine-ins. Sometimes they went out on their days off together and had a few drinks.

[Y/N] pulled away from him with a grin on her face, "Wow. When did you get here? Have you seen the guys yet?"

"Haven't been here long, just a few minutes, I saw you near by and made my way over. And no I haven't." She blushed at that.

"Well, we'll have to change that. C'mon let's go to them," she gulped down the last of her drink and grabbed his hand to lead him through the crowd.

Wasn't long for the group of friends to notice [Y/N] and the person trailing behind, "DEREK!" They all greeted him with hugs and smiles.

They spent a good while dancing together until they decided to take a break at their nearby table. They all conversated about what they had been doing in the last few years, making jokes and laughing at some crazy story Stiles was telling about his co-worker, Spencer.

After a while, [Y/N] decided to get everyone a few shots and made her way to the bar. As she waited for her order, she began nodding along to the music and mouthing the words.

"Thank you," [Y/N] took the circled tray and turned to walk back to the table, only to almost bump into Scott's mom.

"Shit, sorry Melissa."

"Wow, got enough there?"

[Y/N] laughed and motioned to the table near the front, "I hope so. It's for that crazy lot I call friends."

"Ah, of course," a smile with a small pat on the shoulder from her, [Y/N] excused herself and made way back.

"Alright guys, this round is on me," she said happily as she set the drinks down on the table.

"[Y/N/N], this is already paid for," Scott mentioned.

"Shh, let me have this," she shushed him.

-

Time had flown by. It was nearing the end of the party and people began to leave little by little.

[Y/N] was off to the side at a nearby table talking to a few folks while swaying a bit to the soft songs playing. Her back was towards the others so she didn't notice the glance Derek threw her way with a smile.

The man always had a soft spot for her. He would never admit his feelings towards her to himself. Always thought she didn't feel the same, and was scared of getting close to her. Back then they had a totally different lifestyle. With him trying to figure himself out as to what he wanted to do with his life, all the bad guys they had to face and it just not being a good time to get close to anyone like that. The male just suppressed the feelings. That's why he left for New York. Time away gave him a sense of direction to figuring out what he wanted and who he wanted to be with. Derek realized that he shouldn't let other things stop him from his happiness. He wanted to have a life, build a family and just be surrounded by his friends again. He wanted [Y/N] by his side through it all.

Lydia took a small glance at Derek noticing his gaze was not focused on the conversation going on at the table. She followed his gaze and a smile grew on her face. [Y/N]. Those two. The redhead silently grabbed everyone else's attention and nodded her head to what she was referring to. They all playfully rolled their eyes at them. A fond smile was plastered on the former alpha's face.

Lydia, being the one she was, decided to take the lead. She gently placed a hand on the man's arm.

Derek snapped out of his trance and followed to who the arm led to. He made eye contact with the banshee and then realized the whole table was looking at him.

"What?"

"What do you mean 'what'. You look like a love sick puppy." Stiles spoke.

Derek scoffed, "I do not."

His cousin mimicked the sound, "Yes you do. Why haven't you told her how you feel already?" she questioned.

His eyes grew wide. They knew? That was a dumb question, of course they knew. They knew everything. There was no point in hiding it, the whole group was on to him. He rubbed the back of his neck gently and looked down at his feet. "I don't know. Just haven't I guess."

Lydia took a seat next to him, "You think she doesn't feel the same, but she does," she assured him.

This caught the werewolf's attention. "She does?"

"Yeah dude. We all see the way she looks at you. Heart shaped eyes and all. Same way you look at her," the alpha pointed out.

He glanced back at the girl in time to see her toss her head back in laughter. He smiled.

Suddenly,the familiar tune to Brett Young's 'In Case You Didn't Know' began to play through the speakers.

Allison laughed, "Now if that isn't a sign, I don't know what is," she spoke referring to the song.

Lydia gave his knee a pat, "Go and ask her to dance. It is her favorite song after all."

Derek looked at his friends, all of them giving him a supporting look. He rubbed his clammy hands against his things and took a deep breath. He stood up from his seat and began to make his way to the girl. He could hear the small cheers from his friends as he walked away from them. When he got close, one of her friends made a gesture towards her to look behind her.

Confused, [Y/N] turned only for her to smile at the man in front of her. Derek.

"Hey."

"Hey," his heart was beating rapidly and hard against his chest. He gets the pack were having a laugh at how nervous he is. Now or never. "Would you like to dance?"

Shock with a hint of fear took over her. Dancing. Dancing with a partner was something she couldn't do. Let alone with the man she has had a crush on for years. She'd make a fool of herself.

"I-I can't dance," she said quietly.

He gently took her hand,"It's ok, I'll teach you," and slowly began to lead her away from the table and  to the open floor. 

Donnie shot a look of surprise to her friends as they walked past them, only to be met with smiles, a few winks and a thumbs up from Lydia.

Once on the floor, Derek turns towards her and softly places her left hand on top of his right shoulder, places his right hand on her hip and let's his left grab a hold of her right. They were close in proximity and began to sway to the song.

Derek could hear her heart thumping loudly and leaned his head beside hers. "Relax, you'll be fine. Just follow my lead."

She let out a breathy laugh and nodded, "Right, sorry. First time jitters."

After a few moments of letting her get the pace of the dance, he broke the silence.

"You know why I came back?" He spoke near her ear.

"For Allison and Scott's wedding, right?"

"Yeah, but not just for that," he closed his eyes, "It's because I wanted to see you again."

She froze for a second. Me. She thought. He came back for me? What the hell?

"I don't understand. Why?"

The confusion in her voice made him laugh a little. The next verse in the song was just too perfect and Derek sang along to it.

"Baby I'm crazy 'bout ya,

And I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you.

Even Though, I don't tell you all the time.

You had my heart a long, long time ago. In case you didn't know."

Tears began to well up in her eyes. No, it couldn't be. She thought. This is too good to be true.

"That smooth motherfucker," Malia spoke.

"Gotta admit that was pretty good," Scott chimed in.

The other three looked between the two. Obviously they were eavesdropping on them. For safety reasons of course.

"What? What did he say?"

"Did he tell her?"

Both Allison and Lydia asked their friends.

"He basically confessed by singing to her the last verse that just played," said with a smile.

Stiles whistled softly, "Damn, who knew he had it in him."

"Derek," [Y/N] said softly.

He just gave her hand a small squeeze.

"I've liked you for a while now. Even when we were running around chasing bad guys and solving cases," he began. "But, I wasn't in the right head-space to act upon them. We had so much going on that I didn't think it was the right time to start something I wasn't ready for yet. Besides, I didn't think you liked me then."

She let out a small laugh while wiping a few tears off her face. "You're a werewolf that has super hearing and is like a lie detector, smells emotions and is able to tell what the person is feeling, and you couldn't determine My sense of emotions."

Her comment made him smile, realizing that she too returned his feelings. "Like I said. Wasn't all there," he pulled away to look at her.

The song was nearing its end. Donnie brought both her arms to rest on his shoulder and interlocked her fingers behind his head. She placed her forehead against his and closed her eyes, trying to soak up this lovely moment.

"I suppose not. But I guess, it was a good thing I didn't act upon mine either. Who knows how we would've turned out."

With Derek's hands now at her waist, he softly rubbed circles with his thumbs at her sides, "A few rough bumps here and there but still good." He opened his eyes and placed his thumb and index finger underneath her chin, so she could look back up at him.

"[Y/N/N], I know this is long overdue. But, would you please be mine?"

She looked into his eyes. The eyes she fell in love with back when she first saw them in the open forest. The same eyes that always gave her compassion and strength. The same eyes that are now showing her the same love she has felt towards him in the past few years.

With a soft graze of her lips to his she whispered the answer.

"Yes."

As the last line and note played out. They're lips met.

A noise of loud cheers and applause erupted from the pack and family.

"FINALLY!" Stiles shouted.

Derek smiled against the kiss as [Y/N] laughed lightly.

"Were we that bad," Derek asked, leading their way back to their table hand in hand.

"Yes, it was disgusting," Malia faked gagged.

"Oh shush," [Y/N] smiled as she leaned into Derek's side. He smiled and gave the top of her head a kiss.

Maybe weddings weren't so bad after all.

[half-anidiot]

what it’s worth

rating: teen

word count: 2,004

warnings: self loathing, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt (kind of?), drunkenness, descriptions of violence, nightmares

summary: Kieran by day, Guile by night.

Or, more realistically, Guile whenever Daniel is at rehab or an interview--away from them. But as they get closer to Daniel, Kieran's guilt over the gala grows and is beginning to spill over into work. Suddenly their desire for a life, to carve out a space in the world for their own, is beginning to lose its appeal.

After all, is having a life worth it if Daniel isn't with them?

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2 | Nightmare

Kieran stopped where they were standing outside the museum entrance in disbelief. In their shock, the bag they were holding, the one carrying the jewels that had recently been placed on display, slipped out of their hands as they took in the sight in front of them.

Daniel.

Daniel floating in front of them with a look of unchecked anger on his face and fury raging in his thoughts.

Daniel in civilian clothes and fully prepared to beat their ass.

After a moment of charged silence, Kieran hoarsely (though the voice distorters masked this), said, “You weren’t supposed to show up.”

And it was true. Kieran had specifically chosen a time when Daniel was in rehab to ensure that even if the Rangers got wind of their escapade today, Daniel would not be there to hear it. He would be far away in a building stretching and working on his leg--the one that Kieran had damaged.

Daniel’s thoughts raged at the statement and he rose another few feet into the air. Did they think that he wasn’t good enough? That after last time he wasn’t even worth their time? He would show them. He would show everyone.

“Sorry to disappoint, Guile.”

Kieran fought not to flinch from how vehemently Daniel uttered their name. With sorrow on their heart, they shook their head. They couldn’t do this. They couldn’t fight Daniel. Had it been anyone else, Kieran was prepared to have a showdown. Steel, Ortega (they would have hated fighting their best friend--but they could have dealt with it), and they would have even enjoyed a fight against Argent--in their opinion, she was the best of the Rangers. But Daniel?

“I’m sorry,” they said quietly, tightening their hands into fists at their side, “I’m sorry for the Gala.”

Whatever Daniel had been expecting was most certainly not that. Kieran’s words seemed to hit him so hard, he actually moved back slightly as if he had been hit. Was this a joke? Was Guile trying to distract him from something else they had planned?

“Excuse me?” he hissed, face twisted into a snarl. And God, Kieran felt their heart break. It split right down the middle at Daniel’s expression. Kieran had never seen such a feral look cross his face before, even on that first night when he had been angry at the world--Daniel was simply too soft for it. So seeing him wear it and knowing they had caused it…

Kieran had never hated themself more.

“I’m sorry,” they croaked louder, fighting back the sob that wanted to escape their mouth when they did so. Kieran felt one hot tear drip down their face as Daniel’s thought flitted through his mind before it left his lips.

“You’re not allowed to be sorry.” 

Inhaling so sharply it hurt, Kieran gave a nod. “You’re right. I’m not.”

They felt more than saw Daniel’s surprise before it once again became that burning anger. With a growl, Daniel dove for them, but Kieran was already moving. Their prize, the rubies and diamonds and emeralds, lay forgotten on the museum steps as they vaulted over the railing and threw smoke bombs behind them. It hid them from Daniel, if only for the briefest of moments. With thoughts of watery eyes and coughs clouding Kieran’s telepathic vision, they swiftly yanked the sewer lid off the ground before slipping inside and replacing it silently.

Even thirty minutes later, when they were out of their suit and driving back to their base with shaky hands, Kieran could hear Daniel’s bellow echoing in their brain.

“COWARD!”

---

When Daniel found them that evening, Kieran was sitting on the edge of their apartment’s roof with a bottle of vodka in hand and bloodshot eyes. Daniel, sweet, sweet Daniel, had flown by to check on them after his run in with Guile. It was highly unlikely that Kieran had been anywhere near the museum but…

Kieran knew he would rather be safe than sorry.

“Kier?” he called out softly, hovering in front of where they sat hunched over and nursing their drink, “Are you okay?”

“Mm,” they hummed in reply, slurring their next words, “Fine. ‘M perfectly fine.”

“Are you, uh...drunk?”

“Maybe. There are more bottles behind the vent over there,” they gestured with a wobbly thumb behind them. Their hands still hadn’t stopped shaking from earlier, and at this point Kieran highly doubted that they ever would.

Daniel, with a stricken look on his face, floated over and gently pried the half empty bottle of vodka from their hand and set down behind the lip of the roof behind Kieran. For a second, Kieran took advantage of their telepathy and slipped inside Daniel’s mind to see what they looked like to him and--

Oh.

Oh wow.

They looked like shit.

Kieran’s hair was always messy, but right at that moment it was an inky mop of regret and depression on their head. Their eyes were red and had purple smudges underneath them, and their usually thin face looked downright ghastly. A pierced tongue came out to wet cracked lips as Kieran slammed back into their own body and sighed.

“Kieran, what happened?”

There went Daniel’s brain, worries zipping around his head a mile a minute and faster than he could fly. Would he always be like this? Worrying over them and their decisions? Kieran didn’t deserve his worry. Kieran didn’t deserve him. Daniel should hate them--does hate them, he just doesn’t know that it is Kieran hiding behind Guile’s mask.

“COWARD!”

COWARD.

Coward.

I am a coward.

“--ran. Kieran, hey.”

Daniel is gently running his thumbs over Kieran’s cheekbones as he cradles their face in his hands. With a bleary blink, Kieran stared into eyes so blue, they could get lost in them. Kieran could spend the rest of their life swimming in Daniel’s ocean eyes. The question was, could he spend the rest of his life staring into Kieran’s? They were black, stained like the sins they had committed against Daniel and--

Oh God.

They couldn’t think about that not now, they would lose it (quite literally) all over Daniel. Even drunk, Kieran was entirely certain that puking all over your--

Wait.

What was Daniel?

Did Kieran consider them their boyfriend? Did Daniel consider Kieran his partner? Were they dat--

“Kier, you keep getting lost in your head.”

Daniel was still whispering, still holding Kieran as if they were delicate and made of glass--as if the smallest breeze could blow by and they would fall to pieces and float away. Softly, barely enough to be heard, they said, “Sorry. ‘M a million miles away.”

“I know, Kier, I know.”

Daniel picked them up so tenderly, one arm curled under their knees and the other nestling them into his chest, that Kieran almost broke down right then and there. Almost told him everything they had done to him--things that if he knew Kieran had done would have Daniel pushing Kieran far far away from him and off the edge of the building.

Kieran wished he would.

They even started to turn in Daniel’s arms towards the ground far below them, but Daniel tightened his grip until Kieran was sure they were melded together and was unable to separate where Daniel ended and they began at the points of where they touched.

“No, Kieran.”

Stop saying my name like that. Like I matter.

“Not tonight.”

Like you care about me even when you shouldn’t. You should be screaming at me, hating me, pummeling me like I pummeled you.

“You have to live past sixty, remember?”

Stop talking to me like you love me.

Because you shouldn’t.

---

This nightmare was new.

You were grinning as you slammed your fist into a face beneath you, laughing in satisfaction as they groaned and blood splattered onto your mask. A well placed kick to their midsection had their body rolling backwards and thudding into the wall behind them. With a snap of your wrist, you shook the red off of your glove and watched as it hit the ground with a spray. The blonde locks that waved from their head was tangled and matted with red and rust--

(No. No. Stop, I know that hair, I know that head.)

Their mind once again tried to slip into unconsciousness, but you tugged on it hard, making sure they could feel and experience everything that you were giving them.

(No. Stop.)

A kick to already broken ribs, a punch to a shattered nose…

(Stop. STOP.)

Laughing as their lungs try to expel the blood that has built up in them. Both of their eyes are nearly swollen shut, but you can catch the twin slivers of blue that peek through.

You don’t like that.

So you hit them again.

(STOP IT, STOP IT PLEASE--)

You flipped them onto their back with an idle hand, soaking in the whimper that escaped their lips at the action. A sadistic grin was painted across your face as you reached for their neck, hands preparing for the final movement--

(STOPITSTOPITSTOPIT--)

“KIERAN,” came Daniel’s shout, yanking them out of their dreams violently. His hands were tight on their shoulders, as if he had been shaking them to try and get them to wake up. Ah, he had, Kieran could see the thought flying around with others, all of them centered on Kieran. But that look in Daniel’s eyes--that was fear.

And suddenly everything came rushing back with nauseating clarity. They were drenched in sweat and had tears running down their face as they shoved Daniel off of them (he went without resistance, not expecting Kieran to do that) before half running, half stumbling out of their bed and into the bathroom to vomit into the toilet beneath them. They heaved and heaved, long after there was nothing left in their stomach (it had only been alcohol to begin with), before stopping and leaning back to rest against the tub next to them. Daniel was floating in the doorway, head nearly brushing the top of it, looking unsure of what to do. Kieran was panicking, obviously, and he was too.

After realizing that he was going to have to be the calm one in this situation, Daniel came over and hesitated in front of Kieran before slowly asking, “Can...can I hold you?”

Kieran’s vision was swimming and they couldn’t breathe properly, but God, a hug sounded like it just might fix everything so they nodded. It didn’t fix everything, but…

Daniel’s arms slowly wrapping around them, one by one and gently pulling them into his lap on the cold tile of the bathroom floor was a kindness they did not deserve but gladly--selfishly--accepted. As they cried, as Kieran sobbed into Daniel’s shirt, they blubbered and stuttered out apologies that would never be enough to make up for what they had done to him.

But Daniel just held them and whispered that it was going to be alright.

It took a while, but eventually, Kieran’s tears had stopped falling. With a hiccup, they forced their hands to stop shaking and asked, with a voice as rough as sandpaper, “Why’d you stop by?” It was a topic easier to address than what had just happened, even if Kieran already knew the answer.

A searing spike of anger stabbed through Daniel’s brain as he rubbed his hand gently down Kieran’s back. “I was at rehab when I heard someone talking about Guile at a museum. I...I didn’t even think, just flew over to where they were. I couldn’t--I mean, they got away, but…” Kieran felt him shake his head above them. “I wanted to make them pay, Kier. That’s not...that’s not something a hero would do. It makes me no better than Guile.”

Ice ran through their veins as Kieran tightened their death grip on Daniel’s shirt until he had to pull his hand up to gently pry their fingers apart. “Trust me, Daniel. You are more--so much more--than Guile could ever, ever be.”

Because I would know.

[anne-lister-adventures]

Monday, 10 February 1840

8 3/4

1 1/2

Dawdling writing bit of rough draft of note to Countess Panin snowy morning Reaumur 8 1/2º in my room at 9 a.m. – Breakfast at 10 in about 40 minutes – 

Hardly over before Colonel of the Engineers and Mrs. Gottman nice intelligent people called, and then Mr. Baehr, and then the General Gouverneur’s nephew and aide du camp Mr. Tolstoy and then the Prince de Georgia or properly Gurinsky so that it was 12 10/’’ by my watch (and as it appeared afterwards to be 3 hours instead of 2 1/2 hours too late) and 12 40/’’ by the day here the carriage having waited 3/4 hour – 

Mr. Tolstoy had met us the evening we spent chez la Princess Tcherkasky – And saw us (tho’ we knew nothing about it) when we drove to tea at Aleschkowo (vide p.[page] 10) and told George to desire our Courier to bring us here in the part of the Town where all the nobility lived and not take us to any of the Inns in the basse ville – Tolstoy a gentlemanly intelligent fast-French-speaking young man – 

Drove directly across the Oka (the verst-long bridge of boats taken away in the winters) a busy enough scene of laden traineaus and people – To all appearance terra-firma – Merely its valley-form to indicate the bed of the river – Drove straight to the Cathedral Church of St. Macaire – Lofty light and handsome rich handsome Iconostase and altar of solid silver given by the merchants that frequent the Fair which begins 15 July and lasts till 25 August O.S. – Large candelabra also en argent massif – Pavement of about 18 in.[inches] squared iron flags – Passed thro’ to the winter church in the large neat building the residence of the clergy at the back of the cathedral – The winter church a beautiful chapel covered vaulted roof painted in imitation of a lightly clouded sky – Effect warm and admirable – Here too rich, beautiful iconostase – Did not go to the Armenian church or Mahomedan Mosque – 

The Pechersky Ascension Monastery (in the background), where the Church of St. Macaire was located.

Then to the Governor’s apartments – Large handsome house – The bel étage on a forest of open arcades – Then along the Dvor (Gastinoi Dvor) – Went into one of the shops – Consisting one large room below and a small one and above a good sitting room, and a small bedroom? and a cabinet – This shop lets for 800/- for the whole time of the Fair – But there are still better situations which let for 1000/- - the frontage seemed to be 3 arcades on one side and 2 on the other – 

The merchants live in their shops – 2635 shops en pierre, and as was said afterwards chez le General Gouverneur 2600 en bois – All the pillars supporting the galleries of the Dvor are en fonte (cast iron) – And said the General Governor at dinner the length of the Dvor is just one English mile; and a person going into every shop and perfectly well knowing his way (so as not to go out of his way) will have walked 40 English miles at the end of his journey! 

Extraordinary ville de boutiques – Bazaar par excellance ou se fait un commerce qui valait l’année passé £8,000,000 said the General Gouverneur at dinner for he said the rouble ought to be 25/- per 1£ but Mr. Marc would certainly be right in giving only 21/- this depending upon circumstances – But said the Governor the merchants always cachent la valeur actuelle – One might add 1/2 to their statement ∴[therefore] instead of 8 millions one should say 12 millions Sterling! – Could not imagine why the merchants should try to hide the real amount of value – No reason for their doing so – It made no difference to them – But they always did hide it – 

Lower Bazaar in the Nizhny Novgorod Kremlin (c. 1872)

The large handsome salle at the Governor’s apartments was intended by General Betancourt (a Spaniard the planner of the Dvor) for a Bourse – But no! That did not take – The merchants liked to settle an in their own private rooms; and some 8 or 10 millionaires in settling the price of the Tea, settled the price of every other article – People bought and sold according to the rate that should be fixed for the tea some much p.[per] c.[cent] without at all knowing what that would be till at the last – There were merchants that regularly bought tea to the amount of 6 or 8 millions, each! – The principal business is in tea, iron, and cotton –

On entering the winter church Tolstoy pointed to the height to which the waters rose in 1829 – Apparently about 3 ft.[feet] up the door-jamb – The damage done was considerable – But such a great rise was extraordinary – It had been once thought said the Governor (at dinner did not see him elsewhere today) to place the Dvor on the Kremlin Mountain (did Madame B-[Baehr] say it it was 75 or 175 ft.[feet] above the level of the rivers?) but this would not have suited the merchants – They could not have landed their merchandise with sufficient ease – Betancourt was was misinformed that the waters only rose 3 ft.[feet] above the present emplacement before its being raised but instead of raising 3 ft.[feet] it has been found necessary to raise 20 ft.[feet] in some places at an expense of 11,000,000/- but the present Emperor has been here twice and was so pleased with the Town ville, its situation, prospects &c. that he has taken it under his especial protection and spares no expense 17,000,000 more are now in progress of laying out in a large handsome house palace for the General Governor to be finished next summer (we saw it in the Kremlin) – 

One beautifully proportioned Corinthian columned salle de reception) – entrepôts – Sundry additional levellings (gigantic ones already done) the new chaussée &c. &c. the chaussée to be finished in 2 years from this time – Done as far as Vladimir, and part done here – Begins by a magnificent quay along the Oka – The quays here and cloaque can only be seen in summer – The ville on one side the Oka, the Dvor on the other and then the Volga – 

For the moment my idea of the ground and the junction of the 2 rivers is not nette (not quite clear) – But the ville as we looked from the Dvor and crossed the river is very picturesquely drawn in a long line along the high bank of the Oka crowned gits picturesque Kremlin – At the Kremlin, not a large enclosure, no cannon or sign of a fortress – 

Saw the new Cathedral built in the old style and in commemoration of the old venerable cathedral containing the tombs of many of the princes of Souzdal and of Cosma Minim Souk-Hourouky, the patriotic butcher, stirrer up of the people and Prince Pojarski who rid their country of the Poles (about A.D. 1612) – A copy of the banner of the patriot troops marched under (a virgin 1/2 length with an inscription in substance pour la foi et pour le roi) hangs up en face du tombeau de Minine or rather of the inscription for the tomb is just below in the catacombs substantial lofty brick vaults, 3 corresponding to nave and side aisles – On the chalky rock, and dry as possible – We walked thro’ them – 

This Cathedral lofty and handsome and très bien eclairée – The domed ceiling (the domes) in a blue pattern upon white (good effect) the side walls covered with fresco painting which contrasts well with the snow white polished scaglinola of the plain square huge Corinthian pillars that support the roof – The Iconostase rich as usual – 

The  Saint Michael the Archangel Cathedral of the Kremlin in Nizhny Novgorod. (image  © A.Savin, WikiCommons)

We peeped into the Military Hospital room for 550 – About 450 patients there – all cleanliness and neatness here as in the hospital for poor old people of both sexes, and in the maison des fous – About 15 or 20 men and as many women there in all? – No noise – All still and orderly as if the patients were as reasonable as their keepers – One of the men on our going up to his room (the rooms perhaps 5 yards + 4 yards) came to the door-window (a glass window iron barred in each door) and said in Russian very quietly Ah! Je croyais qu’il était le General Gouverneur, mais ce sont des vagabonds!” – Mr. Baehr had joined us in the Kremlin Cathedral and went with us to the Hospitals – Very civil and intelligent – It seems he is Procureur – 

It was now 3 by the Town clocks – Obliged to return – Home at 3 10/’’ – Dressed as quickly as we could – The carriage waited for us – At the Governor’s house at 4 1/4 or I think not later – The femme du General Gouverneur an agreeable, nice, good sort of aimable person – Dinner soon announced – Very nice good dinner soup and pâtés – A Marinade de Poisson – Round cotelettes de boeuf round a centre of spinach and little roast potatoes as big as marbles – Then Sterlet du Volga (stewed – Excellent garnished with pieces of lemon which one takes to correct the richness) then roast poulet or game and cucumbers handed round at the same time (salés) – Then a jelly – Then 2 plats of sweet meats (a large long excellent sort of plum and cherries), and then a little tumbler of chill-taken-off water in an empty glass saucer (nobody seems to wash anything but the mouth)and then retired to the salon – Coffee immediately – Sat a few minutes – Quite long enough for Madame B-[Baehr] evidently wished to retire to take her siesta, and said we should want repose – 

Home about 6 10/’’ – Sat slumbering dared not undress immediately for fear of anyone’s coming – Tea about 8 – Had Domna put away all my things and it is now 12 25/’’ by the Town clocks just as I have written so far – Snowing in the morning till about or after 11 – Afterwards fine – 

The 3 Lords Paget Clarence and 2 others were at the marriage of the Princess Marie and then here at the Fair last summer and afterwards with the Emperor at Borodino – 125,000 reviewed – 2 corps of the army – But very few of the guards there – The Lords P-[Paget] bought a great deal at the fair – Delighted with it – sorry they could not stay longer than 3 days – Promised to write to the B-s[Baehrs] but had not written – Mr. B-[Baehr] gave me a little set of views of the Dvor and promised me a feuille of the business done at the Fair last year – Very civil – 

Reaumur 10 1/2º in my room now at 12 1/2 tonight – Mr. Tolstoy said we had more than Reaumur -20 on Thursday night – Thinks we had even as much as Reaumur -25º - no greater cold here than Reaumur -30º to 35º - No greater in Siberia than Reaumur -40 and difficult to measure this – Mercury freezes did the Governor say at Reaumur -35º and spirit of wine only marks 3 or 4 degrees plus bas –

[symbols in the margin of the page:]         ✓c       ✓c       ✓c

[in the margin of the page:]             Gastinoi Dvor at Nijeni

[in the margin of the page:]            Nijni Gastinoi-Dvor

[in the margin of the page:]             Kremlin at Nijeni

[in the margin of the page:]             new cathedral service 1st dome in it 27 years ago

[in the margin of the page:]             Dinner chez le General Gouverneur

Page References:  SH:7/ML/E/24/0009  SH:7/ML/E/24/0010 SH:7/ML/E/24/0011

[may-not-my-flesh-fail-on-me]

An argent heart painted red.

Part 1:

Gazing upon the state of the once vibrant building in shambles melts the heart inside of a woman’s chest. The vibrant colors flickering across her eyes as she stares at the burning embers fluttering away from the bright flame. As much as she tries to deny it, her stomach twists in a knot and the heaviness of her body weight would trample her legs should she dare a movement.

Dizziness and nausea overwhelm the senses as she reaches out towards the burning debris once a shriveled cry echoes away from the decrepit canvas painted with fire. She cries out the boy’s name as her own enters her eardrums from the boy’s fatal shriek.

“—Excuse me, Miss? Are you Emilia Argentum?” The woman jerks herself awake from the sudden summoning. Quickly making it seem like she had not drifted off into a sleep state, she sits up straight on the chair in the waiting room of Shinra Headquarters.

“Yes, I am.” she speaks groggily but does her best to hide it behind a forced tone. The man who addresses her smiles welcomingly before motioning an arm towards the door.

“Very good, a Shinra advocate will see you in regards to your complaint.” Emilia finds that comment a bit straightforward but allows it to fade away as she realizes that is exactly what she intends to do. Complain.

With a bag draped over her shoulder, the headstrong woman grips it securely while heading into the Urban development wing of the Shinra building with only one thing in mind: to win her case and Gaia save anyone who gets in her way.

With many twists and turns distorting her legs as the man leads her to the destination of the Chairman, her mind stays impeccably focused on her goal. Entering the office, she meets a man who introduces himself as Reeve Tuesti and grips his hand firmly while they share a respectful handshake.

“Please take a seat,” he gestures towards the chair parallel to his own and when she follows his instruction, he speaks to the woman again. “How can I help you this morning?” Emilia respects the formal and friendly tone he emits and returns this with her own.

“My name is Emilia Argentum. I am part of the board of education and a teacher at the Sector 7 school for orphans from the ages five to seven.” Emilia pauses and Reeve gasps lightly to the new revelation, his hands folded twitching as he nods.

“Yes, I am aware of the many successes that school has given for the young youths of the slums. Very well done, I must say Miss. Argentum.” His smile demonstrates the affable nature of his soul clearly but it does not bring Emilia any contentment. Instead, the opposite occurs.

She does not return his notion with her own; her lips remain in a distinct frown in remembrance of the event that has taken place nearly a week prior to this meeting.

“If you know the school I work at, then you must also be aware that the funding for renovations to fix the damages of the plate-fall have been cut.” Reeve’s eyes fill to the brim with dismay and the smile that permeated his face melts into a similar frown that is on hers.

“No! That cannot be right—why, would the funds have stopped?— Ah, unless...” Emilia is distraught by this newfound information as it proves that he, also— the very man who is in charge of this department of Shinra— is not conscious of the dilemma that has conflicted Emilia, her coworkers and the children she teaches.

‘That changes matters to a much more challenging playing field.’ Emilia muses and in the blackest depths of her mind, she is reminded of who she lost that day.

She can still feel the heat of the flame, the choking scent of the blackening smoke and the cries of the boy she couldn’t save. Her incompetence stains her memory with black tar as she tried to enter the burning building but was unable to do so by the burning rubble. There was no way for her to enter and both she and the boy knew it. She watched, aghast as the boy’s flesh singed while holding his hand as his consciousness slowly faded away.

“—Miss?” Emilia blinks away the terror to find Reeve’s tender eyes watching hers carefully. “Are you alright, Miss. Argentum?” The woman clears her aching throat and complies by nodding her head once, doing all she can to keep the tears in the corners of her eyes at bay.

“Yes, I was just... Thinking of a boy I lost in the burning wreckage of the school your President cut the funds to assure its renovations.” Reeve’s sympathetic expression wounds Emilia’s heart as she feels guilty for mentioning the boy’s death as a tactic to achieve what she needs to be done but every action she takes to improve the status of the broken institution will be for him.

“I am truly sorry that you lost someone, Miss. Argentum.” Reeve hesitates, as if in deep thought before continuing quietly. “I’m sure many... Lost their lives to the destruction of the plate.” The two remain silent, a way to show respect for the ones lost in that fatal act caused by the very corporation housed in this building Emilia resides in and little does Emilia know, Reeve holds even more guilt than she does. Granted, she lost someone who was close to her but he has the blood of every single person he couldn’t save on his hands by not being able to stop the President’s ultimate decision of dropping the plate.

“He was six.” Emilia blurts without a thought, feeling secure in this man’s presence enough to give him the details of the young boy who died as she held his hand in hers. “His name was Troy, and oh was he a troublemaker.” Emilia giggles somberly, Reeve returning the comment with an attentive but condoling smirk. “He was so kind when he put his mind to it though. He would always give me flowers he plucked from a flower girl’s garden and oof, he got a stern talking to by her let me tell you.” Reeve and Emilia share a small fit of laughter but sadly, Emilia now gets to when he heard his cry. “His screaming echoed through the rubble and at first I didn’t even hear him. In the debris, I saw his burned skin reaching out of the burning building. I tried my hardest to get him out but it was futile. The fallen metal shards had locked him in with the fire.” Reeve finds his hands trembling to this story. Out of dread, as he knew the consequences but still could’ve tried harder to act against his fellow leaders, but also out of anger. Rage for his failure to intercept the Turks. Animosity for the President who ordered the drop in the first place. “When he took my hand, he said ‘don’t worry Miss. ‘Tum. I’m going to return to the Planet now. I’ll miss you.’” Reeve’s trembling has gotten to the point where he needs to remove his hands from the desk to hide them under the table lest he risks her seeing his regret. Emilia’s head lowers towards her lap and when she twists her hand around to gaze at the sears from the boy’s own burning skin left on hers as scars, she quietly finishes her statement. “He died after that sentence. I felt his burning hand lose its grip and become lifeless in the hold of my fingers.” Reeve is unaware of what to reply to the hurting woman despite feeling a sense of familiarity with her in this current situation.

Hesitantly, he utters soft, concerned syllables.

“I truly am sorry that you lost Troy. You should not have had to go through that, nor should the boy have lost his life especially at such a young age.” His jawline almost pierces his skin as he knows what he unfortunately must say next. “It pains me to say this, considering what you have just informed me of, but you will not be receiving the funds needed to renovate the schoolhouse.” Emilia’s head shoots upward to stare into the man’s brown eyes with bewilderment.

“What!? Why!?” Reeve is quick to disperse the truth to this woman as he feels she deserves nothing but exactly that for what she has gone through.

“It is because the President of the Shinra Corporation—“

“—is dead.” A new voice enters the room, making the two seated at the desk shift their heads towards the source. When Emilia sets her sights on the man who stands in the doorway of Reeve’s office, his sapphire eyes have already become acquainted with hers. “I overheard your story and I am interested in your conflict. Why don’t you follow me to my office.” The man uses an authoritative tone so close to the one Emilia adorns when approaching a meeting done with her fellow members on the board of education and once discerned, she points out he must also be a high official of this company. “That is not objected by you, I assume?” The man’s eyes raise to address Reeve who stands on his feet for a reason unknown to the woman.

“Of course, Mr. President!” Emilia’s perplexed gaze moves between the two men but holds on the President’s once his eyes latch onto hers again, painting her with a look of affirmation. “It was lovely meeting you Miss. Argentum. I truly hope you’re able to get whatever you need.” His sense of honesty gives Emilia a semblance of courage she needs to manifest in order to succeed. Another handshake is shared between the two before the woman follows the new President of the Shinra Corporation.

@quicksilver-fair for you love ☺️

[justauthoring]

No Reason To (7/50)

Prompt: “And I guess… when it comes down to it, I trust you.”

It has come to my attention that by adding links to my posts, it stops that post from being seen in the tags tagged. So, sadly, I will no longer be able to link previous parts of NRT on new chapters. BUT all part can be found easily on my “No Reason To Series MasterList!” found in my bio.

A/N: I had so much fun writing this part, so... I hope you all enjoy the first part of season two!

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Pairing: Stiles x McCall!Reader

Based off of: Teen Wolf 02x01 and 02x02

Tag List: @potterheadbbc - @sunsetblake - @mythicalamphitrite - @loverofwaytoomanythings618 - @creamychickenuggets - @mnk - @gazebros- @colie87 - @quilliamfears - @quellum - @pessimisticbullshite - @desired-love-@thinkwritexpress-official - @kaylinfayezink - @maiabiovillage - @tr1chst3r - @arkcangel - @quirkytwinkles - @thegirlwhoimagined - @noones-girl1980 - @illumminated - @fairchild345 - @all-will-be-well-love - @animemes-trash - @starryrevelations - @literallyhelpme - @theskytraveler - @jinandtion1c - @ilovemymoose - @bibliophilesquared - @stilessarcasmqueen - @mersuperwholocked-lowlife - @newtsshelbys - @wyattgoleft - @pancakefancake - @saturno-in-the-night - @pizzamelon7384 - @riskregretting - @mdgrdians - @ravenclawnerdfromnarnia - @franchisefan14 - @lovingpeterparker - @audreysduvxl - @kararanae23 - @alioop3818 If you’d like to be tagged, just let me know! Any in italics are those Tumblr won’t let me tag!

“I just don’t understand why you won’t let me meet your father.”

Isaac sighs, his head dropping, tucking his chin into his neck. The grip he has on your hand tightens somewhat in response to your words, and a part of you feels guilty. You don’t mean to be pushy, nor do you wanna push the subject more than’s appropriate but you can’t help feel like Isaac doesn’t want you to meet his father. Like... you’re not good enough for him to approve of you.

“I mean, you’ve already met my family. Not to mention Scott, and I feel like it can’t get anymore awkward than that.” You continue, mumbling to yourself. “I don’t know, maybe we’re moving too fast...”

Isaac’s breath hitches for a moment, and then suddenly you’re forced to a stop, staring up at Isaac with wide eyes. He’s before you now, both hands clasped in your own and he’s leaning forward to rest his forehead against you. “It’s not that,” he whispers so only you can hear. 

Frowning, you bite your lip; “are you embarrassed of me?”

“No, no!” Isaac exclaims, leaning his head back to shake it adamantly. Inhaling deeply, he lets go of your right hand, cupping your cheek. “There’s no way I could ever be embarrassed of you. Ever. Y/N...”

“Then why?”

Isaac’s words get caught in his throat, and with a heavy sigh, he shakes his head. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” You huff, pulling your hands and face away from him. Taking a step back, you hug yourself, glancing around the neighborhood wearily before narrowing your eyes up at Isaac. “What’s so complicated about me wanting to meet your father?”

Rubbing at his face, Isaac closes the distance you created between the two of you, trying to diffuse the situation. “It’s... It’s not safe for you there, okay? I can’t bring you home and know something won’t happen.”

“Safe there?” You ask, confused. “Isaac, what are you talking about?”

“Please,” he urges, taking a hold of both your cheeks this time, his grip gentle and caring. “Please, just trust me. I don’t want to lose you, Y/N, but... I just can’t right now, okay?”

Sighing, you let your shoulders fall. You don’t want to lose Isaac either, especially when things have been going so well. Licking your lips, you nod, letting a small smile fall on your lips. “Okay,” you whisper, relenting. “I don’t understand, but, okay.”

Isaac let’s out a breath of relief, his own smile growing on his lips. “Now, can I continue to walk you home?”

Rolling your eyes, you nod; “you really need to get a car.”

Isaac laughs, “maybe sometime.”

“Hopefully soon.”

-

“This is the one she was just wearing?”

Turning to Stiles, you impatiently wait for his answer. Eventually, after a deep sigh, he answers by nodding his head.

“I’m not gonna let anyone hurt her,” Scott promises, eyes on Stiles before drifting to you. Fiddling with your fingers, you nod. You trust your brother. You know he’ll find Lydia. “Not again.”

“All right,” Stiles sighs, “just shove the thing in your face and let’s find her.”

Stiles turns on the car, the lights turning on only to reveal Allison in front of Stiles’s jeep. You jerk back in surprise, eyes widening as she continues to make her way over to Scott, leaning over in the window. 

“What are you doing here?” Scott panics, “someones gonna see us.”

“I don’t care,” Allison dismisses, “she is my best friend, and we need to find her before they do.”

“I can find her before the cops can.”

“How about before my father finds her?”

“He knows?” Stiles sighs.

“Yeah,” Allison nods, “I just saw him and three other guys leave my house in two SUV’s.”

“Get in,” you urge, shifting over in the back seat so you’re behind Stiles. Crawling over Scott, she falls next to you in the backseat, and the moment she’s situated, Stiles wastes no time in putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the parking lot.

A while later, you can’t help but ask the dreaded question. “Okay, but if she’s turning, would they actually kill her?”

“I don’t know,” Allison stresses, shaking her head. “They won’t tell me anything. Okay, all they say is ‘we’ll talk after Kate’s funeral, when the others get here.’”

“What others?” Stiles follows up.

“They won’t tell me that either.”

“Okay,” Stiles huffs, keeping his eyes on the road. “Your family’s got some serious communication issues to work on.” He finishes off, and you can’t help but shake your head at his words. Turning to Scott, Stiles calls out for him. “Scott, are we going the right way?”

With his head sticking out of the car, Scott sniff’s around for a moment longer before answering. “Take the next right!”

-

“She came here? You sure?”

“Yeah, Scott,” you mumble, glancing around, “why would she come to the Hale house?”

“This is where the scent leads,” Scott shrugs, clearly at a loss for any other answer or solution.

Lips parted in confusion, Stiles, at the front of the group, continues to walk forward, shaking his head. He only makes it a few steps before he’s halting once more, turning around to face you, Scott and Allison. “All right, but has Lydia ever been here?” He questions.

“Not with me,” Allison answers, to which you nod.

“Me neither.”

Walking up ahead, you fall next to Stiles’s side, a few steps ahead of your brother and Allison, glancing around. You try to find the words to say to comfort Stiles, but they fall short on your tongue. Truth be told, you’re just as worried, and if you can’t even reassure yourself, how are suppose to reassure someone else?

You and Stiles end up circling around Allison and Scott, and you listen to their conversation in the back of your mind. It’s nothing you don’t know already. Just that wolves are stronger in packs, and that includes the alpha. Meaning Derek...

You notice Stiles crouch out of the corner of your eye, and tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear, you follow him, helping him brush back leaves. It’s then that the two of you notice the trip wire right in front of you, causing you to turn to Stiles in bafflement.

“Ooh, hey,” he calls the others, “look at this. You see this?”

Allison falls by your side, and the two of you inspect the wire closely as Stiles takes a hold of it. “I think it’s a tripwire,” he mumbles, pulling on it slightly. 

You look around, expecting to see something but-

“Stiles?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

Turning around, your eyes widen when you see Scott hanging upside down by his foot.

“Oh.”

You can’t help the small smile that falls on your lips at the sight, holding a hand against your mouth as you push yourself up to your feet. “Next time you see a tripwire,” Scott begins, swaying back and forth. “Don’t trip it.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, “noted.”

The three of you step forward, with the intent of letting Scott down, but are interrupted by Scott suddenly yelling; “wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” waving his hands around madly. You listen to his order, halting in the middle of Stiles and Allison, impatiently waiting for Scott to explain himself. “Someone’s coming. Hide.”

Glancing around, you ignore Scott’s last call of warning, trying to see who exactly was coming.

“Go!” Scott urges, waving his hands madly once again.

At that, you finally listen to reason, turning when Stiles grabs a hold of your wrist, guiding you forwards. You take one last glance as your brother before hiding behind a tree along with Stiles, Allison behind the one next to you.

Once you’re settled, you quickly turn where Scott was, your lips parting when you see Chris, and a couple of guys, making their way over to Scott.

“Scott?”

“Mr. Argent.” Scott greets.

“How are you doing?” Chris asks, crouched down in front of your brother.

“Good,” Scott reluctantly answers, “you know, just hangin’ out. Is this one of yours? It’s, uh, good. Nice design. Very constricting.” 

Dismissing Scott’s attempt at staying away from what Chris obviously wants to ask him, Chris sighs; “what are you doing out here, Scott?”

“Looking for my friend.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Chris nods, “Lydia’s in your group now, isn’t she? Part of your clique? Is that the word you use? Or is there another way to put it...? Part of your pack?”

“Actually,” Scott corrects, “clique sounds about right to me.”

“I hope so,” Chris replies, without a moments of hesitation. “‘Cause I know she’s a friend of Allison’s, and one special circumstance, such as yourself-- one, I can handle. Not two.”

Biting your lip, you turn your head over to Allison, meeting her eyes from afar.

“Scott, do you know what a hemicorporectomy is?”

“I have a feeling I don’t want to know...”

“A medical term for amputating somebody at the waist,” Chris explains, and you feel your heart lurch to your throat. There’s very clearly a threat hidden underneath those words. “Cutting them in half. Takes a tremendous amount of strength to cut through tissue and bone like that. Let’s hope a demonstration never becomes necessary.”

Chris stands up them, turning around, never batting Scott another look before walking off.

The moment he’s gone, you rush over to your brother. “You okay?”

“It’s just another life-threatening conversation with Allison’s dad,” Scott sighs.

Allison takes a moment to look around, catching sight of where the tripwire begins. Rushing towards it, she calls out; “Stiles, help me with this.” You remain by Scott’s side, glancing down at him pity as the other two fiddle around the with the wire, trying to unattach it.

Then, before you know it, Scott’s on his feet next to you.

“Thanks,” he calls, straightening out. “But I think I got it.”

-

“Good luck, okay?”

Isaac nods, sending you a short lipped smile, and it’s pretty clear that the smile doesn’t exactly reach his eyes. 

He moves to rush into the boys locker room, but grabbing his wrist, you halt his movements. “Isaac?”

With a deep sigh, he turns to you, quickly nodding his head. “Yeah, yeah, i’m fine.”

“Isaac,” you sigh, “I heard about what happened last night. Not to mention, you won’t tell me how you got that black eye and-”

Isaac interrupts you by pressing his lips against yours. It stuns you into silence, baffling you. It’s not like the two of you haven’t ever kissed, it’s just usually you who instigates them. For Isaac to do this is... very surprising.

When he pulls back, you can’t help the smile that falls on your lips as you meet his eyes.

“I’m okay,” he assures, “I promise.”

“Okay,” you whisper, swallowing thickly. You know he’s only saying that. But now isn’t the time to push it, so with one final kiss pressed against his cheek, you step back, letting your hand slip out of your own.

“Have fun!”

-

Pulling back the sheets of your bed, you let out a sigh. After a exhausting night, you’re more than ready to fall into bed and pass out. But, you do so with a light heart, given that the cops found Lydia and other than a little bit of confusion and memory loss, she’s completely okay.

That doesn’t really explain the whole werewolf thing just yet. But she’s safe. That’s all that matters. At least, right now. You can figure out the rest later.

Once the sheets are pulled back, you raise your bare leg, wearing nothing more than a pair of shorts and one of Scott’s old shirts, you move to crawl into bed. But before you can, the sound of rapping against your window halts you, and your head snaps up and to the right, eyes widening. You’re not sure what you expected to see, but Isaac definitely hadn’t been on your mind.

Lo and behold, there he is, wet from the rain outside as he gently knocks on the window. It takes a moment to realize just what is happening, staring at your window in disbelief, before you blink, shaking your head. Taking a step back, you rush over to your window, unlocking it before pulling the thing up. “Isaac?” You call, stepping back to give him room to crawl in. “What are you doing here?”

Once Isaac’s on his feet in front of you, practically dripping, you immediately know something’s wrong. There’s a dazed look in his eye, not to mention the black eye he had earlier is suddenly gone, as if it never happened. It both baffles you and concerns you but as you stand there, you find yourself unable to say anything, awaiting his explanation.

“I just needed to see you,” Isaac whispers.

His words cause your shoulders to fall, your face softening. “Did something happen?”

He dismisses your question, making his way over to you and before you know it, he’s cupping your cheeks and bringing you in for a kiss. It stuns you just as it did earlier, but you quickly respond, ignoring the way your clothes get wet in response to Isaac pulling you against him.

Isaac has always been more quiet. More reserved. He never really raises his voice, and most of the time, he just listens to you. You often tried to get him to talk more, tell you more about him, but he professes that he’s content just listening to you talk. That he likes the sound of your voice.

So, this behavior isn’t overly odd for Isaac. Still, you can tell somethings different this time.

Pulling back from the kiss, Isaac leaves his forehead resting against your own, and you let your eyes fall shut in contentment. “Would you like to spend the night?”

Isaac nods, “for a little while.”

You hum in response, backing up, and slipping Isaac’s hand into your own. You lead him over to your bed, before pausing. Isaac turns to your in surprise, chin raised to gaze out you. “There’s not way you’re getting into my bed in those clothes,” you grin, letting go of his hand. “Here, I think I can find some of Scott’s old shirts that I stole.”

You make your way over to your dressed, crouching down to pull open the bottom drawer. After a little bit of searching, you manage to find a shirt you think will fit Isaac’s, standing up straight. Making your way over to him, you hand him the shirt; “here, this should work.”

Isaac nods, gently taking the shirt out of his hand. He surprises you by just pulling off his shirt, with no warning, your cheeks warming slightly in surprise.

Glancing down at your hands, you fiddle with them, waiting until Isaac has his shirt pulled over his head before meeting his eyes. “Ready?” You question softly, having to cough slightly to find your voice. That’s the first time you’ve seen Isaac shirtless, and you have to admit, you’re not disappointed.

Isaac nods, and then you’re crawling into your bed next to him. Isaac wraps his arms around your waist in response, pulling you close, and you let your head fall against his shoulders.

“We have to be quiet,” you whisper. “My mom’s asleep.”

Isaac just nods, holding you closer.

Part of you wonders if you should be asking more questions. Try to figure out what exactly is happening. You’re happy with Isaac, you truly are. And for weeks you haven’t thought about Stiles nor been hurt about his complete dismissal of you and your feelings.

But you can’t deny the fact that Isaac’s been keeping secrets from you. It’s plain as day. He hasn’t told you anything, and in fact, you barely know anything about his family other than the fact that it’s just him and his father.

You want to ask. You should ask. But you’ve never felt this way before. No one’s ever held you like this before. Eventually, your eyes just fall shut, and you fall into a deep sleep.

When you wake up, Isaac isn’t there.

-

“You really don’t remember anything?”

“They called it a fugue state, which is basically a way of saying ‘we have no idea why you can’t remember running through the woods naked for two days’. But, personally, I don’t care.” Lydia shrugs, stopping by the front doors of the school. “I lost nine pounds.”

Chuckling, you shake your head at Lydia’s outlook on the whole situation. It only lasts a moment, before you catch the look in Allison’s eyes, and frown.

“Are you ready for this?” Allison asks, setting her hand on Lydia’s arm.

“Because if you’re not,” you add, offering her a sympathetic smile. “We can just ditch and go shopping. If you’d like?”

Lydia laughs at your attempt at making her feel better, shaking her head. “Please,” she scoffs, turning her eyes on Allison. “It’s not like my aunt’s a serial killer.”

You pause, surprised by that comment as Lydia opens the door, heading into the school. It takes you and Allison a moment to process Lydia’s comment, before you blink, catching the door before it shuts, holding it open for Allison and following in behind her.

What you don’t expect to see is what feels like the whole, but is really only a small portion, of the school stood in front of Lydia, watching her, and now you and Allison as well.

A moment of silence passes before Allison leans over to Lydia; “maybe it’s the nine pounds.”

“It’s definitely the nine pounds,” you nod slowly, glancing around the hallway.

That seems to give Lydia the push she needs. With a final brush back of the hair, she starts sauntering down the hallway, causing a smile to fall on yours and Allison’s lips.

“There we go,” you whisper, staring at Lydia’s retreating back with a proud smile.

-

 You’d dropped everything. Nothing else mattered in that moment. Nothing.

Halting to a stop next to Stiles and Scott, you ignored the pounding of your heart, your uneven breathing, your eyes never leaving the sight of Isaac being lead away by Stiles dad and a few other officers. With your eyes wide, watering, you swallowed thickly. “What’s happening? Where are they taking him?”

Scott and Stiles turn to you, their lips parted, gazes filled with pity.

You ignore it, turning to them. “What happened?” You ask again, growing impatient at their lack of response. Eyes falling on Scott, you take deep breaths, trying to remain calm. “Scott, what happened?”

“Uh, his, uh, dad was murdered last night.”

Your heart drops, falling into the pit of your stomach. There’s no words to explain what goes through your mind. 

I just needed to see you.

Had that been why? Why didn’t he tell you?

Blinking, you turn your gaze back on Isaac. “Well, where are they taking him? Why?”

“I imagine it’s because he’s a suspect,” Stiles explains, voice quiet.

“What?” You exclaim, snapping your attention back on the two of them. “That’s... That’s ridiculous. There’s no way he killed his father. There’s no-” You move to step forward, intent on giving the sheriff a piece of your damn mind. But before you even make it two steps, a hand grabs a hold of your wrist and you’re suddenly being pulled back.

“Woah,” Stiles breathes, “what are you doing?”

“I’m going to tell your father he’s got it all wrong,” you huff, glaring at Stiles.

“You can’t just do that!”

“Besides, what makes you so sure it wasn’t him?” Scott asks, shaking his head.

You pause, biting your lip. “Because... Because I know him, okay?” You dart your hardened gaze between both Scott and Stiles. “A hell of a lot more than you two do.”

Stiles scoffs, shaking his head. “Are you sure about that?”

“What are you talking about, Stiles?” You shake your head, thoroughly done with the two of them. “Unless, you’ve forgotten, I've been dating him-”

“He’s a werewolf, Y/N.”

The black eye disappearing...

The words don’t process in your mind right away. Your lips part, and you remain speechless for a few minutes, taking in what Scott has just said to you. Then, you’re immediately shaking your head. “That’s not possible. There’s no way-”

“Y/N,” Scott interrupts once more, grabbing a hold of your wrist, pulling your eyes on him. “I saw his eyes. I sensed it. He is a werewolf.”

Stunned, you turn to look back in the direction of Isaac, just as he glances back at you. You meet his eyes for a split second before his back is turned to you once more, and he keeps moving until you can’t see him anymore.

“He didn’t kill him,” you whisper, feeling yourself shoulders slump. “I know he didn’t...”

-

“You’re not listening to me, Mr. Stilinski.”

Pausing, Noah glances at you for a moment, his lips parting to lecture you, but he falls short the minute he see’s the distress and panic in your gaze. Letting out a deep breath, Noah slumps against the principal’s desk, clasping his hands before him. “Okay,” he says softly, “i’m listening.”

“Isaac didn’t do it,” you immediately say, shaking your head. “I was with him. He was at home with me. In my bedroom.” You try to ignore the slight embarrassment you feel at your words, ignoring the way your cheeks warm. There’s more important things at hand right now that you being embarrassed.

“What time did Lahey arrive?” Noah asks after a moment.

“Umm,” you mumble, pausing in thought. “Around ten, I believe. I was about to go to bed and then he came knocking on my window.”

“What happened after that?”

Eyes widening, you adamantly shake your head. “Nothing! He... He, uh, just said he wanted to see me and then, we fell asleep. That’s all that happened.”

Noah slowly nods, “and what time did he leave?”

Biting your lip, you glance down at your feet. You thought you would be helping Isaac by coming in here, but right now, you feel like you’re doing the exact opposite. 

“Y/N?”

Snapping your eyes back up, you blink back the tears that threatened to fall. “I... I don’t know. Like I said, we fell asleep and when I woke up... he wasn’t there.”

Noah’s face falls at your words, not oblivious the way your eyes are watering. Setting aside his note pad, he lets out a heavy sigh. “Were you aware that Isaac was being physically abused by his father?”

Blinking, you meet Mr. Stilinski’s gaze, lips left parted. “No,” you whisper, voice shaky. Small. “No, I had no idea.”

It’s... It’s not safe for you there, okay?

That’s what he meant...

Noah nods, pushing himself up to his feet before crouching in front of you. “I’m gonna tell you something, Y/N. Something i’m not supposed to say.” Swallowing thickly, you nod. “I don’t believe it was Isaac either. See, I talked to him the other morning, at the grave site and he didn’t seem like a boy capable of doing this. So, I can’t promise you this will end in a way you like, but I can promise I will try my best.”

Smiling softly, you nod, “thank you, Mr. Stilinski.”

He nods, smiling gently, before stepping back. “Here, i’ll walk you out.” 

Nodding once more, you push yourself up to your feet, heading out of the principal’s office. One of Mr. Stilinski’s officers follows the two of you out, and you’re not necessarily surprised when you see Scott and Stiles’s sitting outside the office.

Stiles rushes to cover his face, Noah letting out a breath of disappointment in response. “Hello, Scott,” he says shortly, before walking off.

You hesitate a moment, meeting your brother’s eyes as Stiles slowly lowers the magazine he’d used to cover his face. For a moment, there’s just silence, then Scott is opening his mouth to say something.

“Y/N-”

“Hello, boys,” a new voice interrupts, pulling your eyes on the new principal of the school.

It’s obvious by the looks on Scott’s and Stiles’s faces that they’re preoccupied by the principal, so, with a sigh, you turn, heading off to your next class.

-

“Scott!”

Said boy turns to you, pausing with his hands left resting on the door of Derek’s car door. “Now’s not the time-”

“Shut up,” you huff, falling next to him. “You’re going to bail Isaac out right? Because of the full moon?”

Derek and Scott just stare at you, causing you to roll your eyes. “Well, i’m coming with.” Leaving them no time to argue, you crawl into Derek’s car, falling in the back seat. You wait a moment, eyes falling on Scott who is still standing by the door stunned and Derek who is glancing at him with the same amount of confusion.

Leaning forward, you raise a brow; “let’s go.”

-

“If Isaac didn’t kill his father, who did?”

Stepping past Scott and Derek, flashlight in hand, you glance around Isaac’s house, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. At least Derek knows it wasn’t Isaac either, even if he was the one who bit the boy in the first place.

Hopefully, he’ll be able to convince your brother what you already know as well.

“I don’t know yet,” Derek finally answers, the two of them taking a step forward. 

“Then how do you know he’s telling the truth?”

Your eyes fall shut at Scott’s words, pushing down the anger that floods you. Even if it makes you angry, you don’t necessarily have a right to be. Scott doesn’t know Isaac like you do. He’s only ever really met the boy once, when you brought him over, and then, Isaac’s on the lacrosse team. But other than that, nothing.

You guess the only that bothers you is that Scott doesn’t trust you.

“Because I trust my senses,” Derek explains, and you glance back, meeting his gaze. “And it’s a combination of them. Not just your sense of smell.”

“You... saw the lacrosse thing today,” Scott mumbles.

“Yeah.”

“Did it look that bad?”

“...Yeah.”

Scoffing, you shake your head. “Maybe you don’t need senses to know that Isaac isn’t a murderer?”

Derek pauses, eyes narrowing in question. “Why do you care so much anyway? How are you connected to Isaac?”

Frowning, you ignore the gaze Scott gives you, turning your back to the two and continuing forwards. “He’s my boyfriend,” you mumble, “or at least was, before you turned him into a werewolf.”

-

“Open it.”

You inhale deeply, staring down at the freezer in both morbid curiosity and worry. Something tells you whatever you’ll find in there isn’t good, and it makes you feel sick to your stomach.

Hesitantly, Scott takes the lock in his hands, slowly pulling it out of the padlock. Flipping it back, Scott slowly pulls open the freezer door, and you clench your fists tightly in nerves. Your eyes widen at the many scratches that line the inside of the freezer, obviously scratches made from fingernails.

Suddenly that sick feeling in your stomach becomes ten times worse, and you have the overwhelming urge to throw up.

“Oh, my God...”

Turning away from the freezer, Scott shakes his head, turning to Derek. “This is why he said yes to you.”

Shrugging, Derek nods; “everyone wants power.”

His words bring about a feeling within you. One of distaste. “It doesn’t have to be power,” you argue, shaking your head up at Derek. “Not everything has to be about power.”

Scoffing, Derek smirks down at you. “You’re not a werewolf. You don’t understand.”

“Don’t understand what?” You huff, turning to him with narrowed eyes. “The boy was being beat by his father, and you prayed on that weakness for your own damn power. It had nothing to do with him.”

“Really?” Derek laughs, “because i’m sure you were doing a great job of making him feel better.”

“At least I didn’t manipulate him for my own gain,” you spit. “You take these teenagers. Teenagers that don’t know any better and you use their weaknesses to your own advantage. That is what is wrong.”

“If I offered you the bite,” Derek says, “if I told you you didn’t have to feel second best to your brother, would you not take it?”

Taking a step forward, you push back Scott’s hand as he attempts at holding you back. You keep walking until you’re directly before Derek, glaring up at him with such disgust in your eyes. “Never.”

“Shall we test it?”

Scott steps forward then, pushing you back by his arm, pulling Derek’s attention on him. “If we help you, then you have to stop. You can’t just go around turning people into werewolves.”

 “I can if they’re willing,” Derek argues, shaking his head at Scott.

“Did you tell Isaac about the Argents?” Scott questions, body tensing. “About being hunted.”

“Yes,” Derek nods, “and he still asked.”

“Then he’s a idiot.”

Hold up-

“And you’re the idiot dating Argent’s daughter,” Derek rebuts, nodding his head when Scott turns to him in surprise. “Yeah. I know you’re little secret. And if I know, how long do you think it’s gonna take for them to find out? You saw what happens to an omega.”

What the hell is an omega?

Leaning forward, Derek pushes himself closer to Scott. “With me, you learn how to use all of your senses. With me, you learn control.”

Taking a hold of Scott’s hand, Derek raises it, showing the claws that begin to grow. 

“Even on a full moon.”

“With him,” you finally speak up, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re manipulated.”

Derek only dismisses you, keeping his gaze focus on Scott. For a moment, you think you’re brother will actually accept Derek’s offer but then he’s ripping his wrist out of Derek’s grip. “If i’m with you, I lose her.”

“You’re gonna lose her anyway.” Derek warns, closing the container door before walking off. “You know that.”

Derek walks a few steps before Scott calls out; “wait,” stunning you. “I’m not part of your pack. But I want him out. He’s my responsibility too.”

“Why? Because he’s one of us?”

“Because he’s innocent.”

-

“Okay, now the keys to every cell are in a password protected lockbox in my father’s office. The problem is getting past the front desk.”

“I’ll distract her,” Derek offers, and you raise a brow.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Stiles panics, grabbing a hold of Derek’s arm and tugging him back. “You? You’re not going in there.” There’s a moment after Stiles finishing speaking where Derek glances down at the grip Stiles has on his arm and at Stiles’s eyes, making it clear what he wants. “...I’m taking my hand off.”

“I was exonerated,” Derek says after a moment.

“You’re still a person of interest, though,” you remind, causing Derek’s eyes to fall on you.

“An innocent person,” he corrects.

“An- you?” Stiles stammers, face falling with disbelief. “Yeah, right!”

“Okay,” you huff, shaking your head. “What’s your plan?” 

“To distract her,” Derek shrugs.

“Uh-huh,” Stiles nods, “how? By punching her in the face? Unh.”

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head at Stiles. 

“Heh,” Derek fake laughs, “by talking to her.”

“Let’s hear a sample,” you smile hesitantly, turning your attention back on Derek.

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, clearly liking that idea. “What are you gonna open with?”

A moment of silence passes.

“Dead silence,” Stiles sighs, nodding. “That should work beautifully. Any other ideas?”

“I’m thinking about punching you in the face.”

Shaking your head, you poke your head in between the two of them, blocking each other from their sights. “Let’s just do this, okay?”

-

“Isaac!”

You halt by the door, lips parting in surprise when you see Stiles huddled in the corner of the room, a police officer in Isaac’s hands as he growls at him. You falter at the sight of Isaac, completely different from how you ever seen him. At this point, you know what a werewolf looks like. You’ve seen Scott turned. But maybe a part of you had hoped that Scott was wrong, even if it was clear he wasn’t.

Derek had admitted to turning him. 

But the naive, hopeful part of you had hoped it wasn’t true. Seeing him now, like this... with fangs and claws and a roar that pierces your ears, it scares you.

Of course, Isaac heard you call his name, and his attention snaps to you at the door. You find yourself frozen with fear, swallowing thickly.

“Y/N!” Stiles bellows, “run, go!”

You don’t listen. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re too scared to run away or if it’s because you trust Isaac. Either way, it doesn’t matter. You don’t move.

Isaac takes a threatening step towards you, piercing glowing eyes on your own. Swallowing down your fear, you step forward, holding your hand out to Isaac. “Isaac,” you whisper, “it’s me.”

He doesn’t do anything at first, confused.

Derek runs in in the next second, grabbing a hold of your wrist; “Y/N! Move!”

“No,” you scream back, narrowing your eyes at Derek. “I’ve seen how Allison helps Scott. Let me do this.”

“You’re just gonna get yourself h-”

“Then so be it,” you dismiss, turning to Isaac. “You may be his alpha, Derek, but i’m the one he trusts.”

You can feel both Stiles’s and Derek’s gazes on you, both fearful and apprehensive of Isaac’s movements. You’re afraid too, but you don’t let it bother you. Pushing it to the back of your mind, you take small, tentative steps forward, still with your hand held out.

Isaac is still growling, eyes still glowing, but he hasn’t raced towards you yet, and you take that as a good sign.

“It’s me, Y/N,” you whisper, voice soft and reassuring. “You know me. Isaac, i’m sorry this happened to you. So, so sorry.”

He hesitates a moment, confused still, and you take that as your chance to reach him, setting your hand on his cheek. The touch snaps something within him, and with one blink of the eye, his werewolf features are fading. You smile at the sight of Isaac, the side of Isaac you know. You’re Isaac. 

“Isaac!”

“Y/N?”

You don’t reply, just wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. He’s stunned with silence for a moment, frozen, before eventually he softens at your touch, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You don’t notice the look of surprise Derek gives you. And you don’t notice the way Stiles stares at you and Isaac. If you had, you probably would’ve dismissed it. But the truth was, in that moment, Stiles can’t help but wonder why you seem to care for Isaac so much.

And why it isn’t him holding you.

-

let me know what you thought? remember, reblogging always helps!

here we go! season two!

i also realize there’s a lot of isaac in this part - that’s probably how it will be (Maybe a little less since this episode was centered around him) give that ‘Y/N’ and isaac are dating.

dont worry, stiles and ‘Y/N’ will be together!! it’s just gonna take a while and a love triangle to get through!

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Bad Blood - Chapter 5

You can read it here on AO3 or find the Chapter Index here. 

***** 

Allison Argent is like a ray of sunshine, and Stiles is… well, Stiles is like a vampire, he guesses. He’s deathly allergic to rays of sunshine. He doesn’t feel happiness whenever Allison visits, even though he wants to, because it’s Allison. She’s sweet and funny and genuinely seems to care about Stiles, even though she hardly knows him, but all Stiles feels when she talks is a weird sense of envious disdain. She talks about school, and how she worries that she’s not fitting in, and how she misses her old friends in Phoenix, and Stiles is above all that, isn’t he? It’s petty teenage bullshit, because Allison doesn’t even know there’s a war going on—Allison doesn’t know anything about werewolves, or the multitude of other nightmarish creatures that actually stalk the world—and the stuff she cares about is childish and irrelevant, and Stiles wants to laugh at her for it, except he can’t, because whenever he tries to he feels a burn of pure jealousy in the pit of his stomach because she’s so normal. And he knows he shouldn’t want the things that she does, he knows he has a higher purpose, a birthright, but he remembers back when he thought he was just a normal kid too, and… and he thinks he was happy back then.

It’s hard to remember.

It’s harder still to evaluate his memories, because every single one of them has been tainted by his father’s betrayal. Every single one has been poisoned by the shame and the anger and the hatred Stiles feels now.

There was a time when Stiles thinks he remembers loving his father, but what the hell did he know back then? Nothing. He was just a dumb fucking kid.

“Stiles?” Allison asks, her forehead creasing. “Are you okay?”

Stiles jolts slightly. “Sorry. I zoned out. What were you saying?”

Allison smiles and elbows him. “I’m saying that there’s this boy and I think he likes me!”

“Of course he likes you,” Stiles says. “Who wouldn’t?”

They’re sitting on Stiles’s bedroom floor with their books and schoolwork spread out around them. Stiles’s curriculum doesn’t quite mesh with Allison’s, but it’s still fun to have someone to do homework with. Well, Stiles guesses everything he does is technically homework since he’s homeschooled, but it still feels nice. It feels almost normal.

That’s the trap, probably.

There’s a locked box under Stiles’s bed with his Kel-Tec PMR-30 and four clips of wolfsbane bullets in it. Stiles is still getting used to the Kel-Tec, but he likes the European-style magazine release.

Allison dropped a pencil a little while ago, and it rolled under the bed. She touched the box getting the pencil back, and she doesn’t know. They’re sitting here talking about schoolwork and a boy she likes, and she doesn’t know Stiles is a hunter. She doesn’t know he belongs to a very different world than hers. There’s something absurd about it, something jarring. It’s unsettling. Stiles has spent the last six years around hunters. He’s forgotten how to pretend to be a regular person.

Allison laughs, the colour rising in her cheeks. “That’s so sweet!”

“Totally true though,” Stiles says. “You’re smart, and pretty, and just about the nicest girl I know!”

She raises her eyebrows appraisingly. “Am I the only girl you know right now?”

That startles a laugh out of him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Her expression softens into something uncomfortably close to pity. “I wish you could come to school with me.”

Stiles blinks down at one of his textbooks for a moment. “Yeah, Me too.” He doesn’t know if it’s a lie or not today. He forces a smile. “Anyway, tell me about this guy again. Is he cute?”

“Adorable,” Allison says. “He almost stabbed me with a pen the first time he met me.”

“That doesn’t sound very adorable.”

“It was an accident!” She laughs again. “I don’t even know how he knew I needed one, and then he shoved one at me so fast he almost fell over his feet. Maybe he tries to impress all the new girls with pens.”

“Ah,” Stiles says. “The mating rituals of the awkward teenage boy.”

“Do you have some experience with them?” Allison asks.

Stiles feels it again: that jarring, dizzying sensation. He shouldn’t have asked if the guy was cute, because is Allison… is she asking if…

Stiles flinches before he can stop himself.  

“You seem like the sort of guy who’d accidentally stab a girl with a pen,” Allison says hurriedly, the rush in her words like she realised what she was implying, and backed the hell away again because she saw the flash of panic in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Stiles says with a weak laugh. “That sounds like me.”

Allison hesitates. “His name’s Scott,” she says at last, and Stiles feels a swelling of affection for her for not pushing. “He has floppy hair, and his jaw is a little crooked, and he has the most beautiful smile!”

“He sounds nice,” Stiles says.

Allison ignores the rasp in his voice. “He’s invited me to a party on Friday night.” Her eyes widen. “You should come!”

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t think—”

“No, it’s perfect!” Allison exclaims. “Because Mom and Dad are being all weird about boys, as per usual, but if I say that you’re going with me, they can’t say no!”

Stiles bets they can. He also bets that Chris and Victoria’s reluctance to let Allison out of the house after dark has less to do with boys and more to do with the fact that there’s a werewolf pack in this town.

“I’m supposed to be concentrating on my schoolwork,” Stiles says.

“Stiles!” Allison rolls his eyes. “It’s one night! Ask Grandpa if you can come with me, please!”  

God. Put him in a dark forest with an entire pack of werewolves and he knows exactly what to do. But navigate the social quicksand of a high school party? Stiles has no fucking idea how to do that.

Not that it matters, of course.

Gerard won’t approve, so it’s never going to happen.

“Sure,” he says. “I’ll ask.”

***

There was this boy, once.

Just a boy on the street in Budapest.

It had been winter, and everything was bleak and cold and grey, and this boy had been wearing a red coat, a flash of colour. A red coat, and a blue woollen hat, and he’d laughed, and Stiles had looked over at him—

He’s beautiful.

—and Gerard had followed the direction of his stare, his eyebrows tugging together in a scowl, and Stiles had torn his gaze away from the boy.

Gerard’s stare had settled on Stiles like he was seeing him for the first time all over again, except that this time he wasn’t pleased with what he saw.  

Stiles never looked at another boy on the street again.

***

Stiles lands on the mat, and all his breath is knocked out of him. He rolls onto his side and gets his knees under him. He tastes blood, and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

Shit.

Gerard might be old, but he still has moves.  

Not that Stiles has ever been stupid enough to underestimate him.  

“Get up,” Gerard says, a growl in his voice. “If I was a werewolf, you’d already be dead.”

Stiles climbs to his feet. He sucks in a breath and rolls his shoulders. He dodges Gerard’s next punch, but a jab to his ribs has him twisting the wrong way, and Gerard punches him hard on the jaw.

Everything flares white with pain.

Stiles gets his gloves up in front of his face to protect himself. His vision is swimming, and he’s clumsy on his feet now. Still, he knows Gerard is right. A werewolf isn’t going to give him a chance to walk it off, is it? It’s fight or die in a hunter’s world, and if Stiles can’t handle a few punches from Gerard, how is he going to survive the real thing?

This time he takes a punch to the gut.

And a voice in the back of his head asks him: But if he keeps punching the shit out of you like this, how will you be in any fit state to go on a hunt at all?

Stiles ignores it, and sways on his feet for a moment, trying to find his balance.

A blow to the temple sends him down onto the mat again.

“Useless,” Gerard mutters. “Get up, Stiles!”

Stiles grunts, and tries to roll over. Flops onto his back again instead, and blinks up at the lights in the ceiling. There are more of them then there should be. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment to try to clear his vision.

“Useless,” Gerard says again.

Stiles opens his eyes and squints up at Gerard.

Gerard is unlacing his boxing gloves. “What the hell is wrong with you tonight? You’ve got worse form than a goddamn child.”

Stiles wishes he could say the words sting more than the cut above his eye that Gerard just opened up, but that would be a lie. “Sorry, sir.”

“You’ll get yourself killed out there!”

Stiles nods and swallows, and tastes blood again.

“You think that Kroměříž counts for anything here? You think that the Novákovi are anything like the Hales?” Gerard sneers at him. “You won’t last a second against the Hales unless you get your head out of your ass and remember how to goddamn fight!”

“Yes, sir.” Stiles tries not to wince when he breathes.

Gerard huffs and shakes his head. “We’re done here.”

He tosses his gloves down on the mat, and leaves the basement.

Stiles lays there a while longer, waiting to catch his breath.

He’s not sure how long it is until he’s able to climb to his feet, but the sweat is chilling on his body when he finally manages it. He stoops to pick up Gerard’s gloves, and places them back in the cabinet. It takes him longer than it should to unlace his own, picking at the knots with his teeth.

Gerard’s right.

He was useless tonight. He barely landed a hit before it was all over for him. He needs to train harder. He needs to get better. He needs to remember who he is, and what he’s here for. He’s a Stilinski, and he has a birthright. He’s a Stilinski, and he’s going to make that mean something again.

Something more than cowardice and betrayal.

He makes his way slowly up the steps, and into the kitchen. He fills a glass with water from the tap, and drinks it. Then he grabs a piece of kitchen towel and wads it up to hold against his split eyebrow.

He thinks of Allison and her normal life and her party and her crush on that boy who almost stabbed her with a pencil.

He doesn’t want that.

He doesn’t want anything like that.

He doesn’t.

He’s a hunter, not a kid.

Except later, when he’s curled up in bed trying not to move because it hurts, he finds himself texting Allison back and forth for a while and pretending, just for tonight, that he’s a regular kid after all.

And that, he discovers, hurts a lot more than any of his bruises.

[24stiles920]

Letharia Vulpina

Teen Wolf Rewrite

Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Warnings: Ages 16+, swearing, violence

Words: 4826

A/N: Not my best work, I admit. I feel like I didn’t give this episode any justice. Anyway, I hope you like it. Btw, I absolutely love Dyl’s acting at the end of the episode. Is it weird to be attracted to Void!Stiles?

Link to masterlisk on profile!

I sipped at my cappuccino, letting the scalding liquid warm me up. Melissa sat across from me, a cup of coffee in her hands as she looked out the window, her face contorted with worry.

Everyone was worried right now. Stiles had been missing for more than forty-eight hours and to top it off, Isaac was in the hospital fighting for his life after he was brutally electrocuted from Stiles—no, the Nogitsune’s—sabotage.

“Any news?”

I jumped at Scott’s voice, almost slopping cappuccino down my blouse. Setting my cup down on the table, I turned to Scott and said, “They’re still looking for him. It’s past the forty-eight-hour mark, but I guess if anyone’s going to be missing for two days and turn up just fine, it’s Stiles.”

Scott nodded and looked to his mother. “What about Isaac?” He asked.

Melissa sighed and stood up from her seat. “Maybe we should go by the hospital before school.”

-

The elevator dinged as the doors opened. Melissa, Scott, and I stepped out of the elevator and into the hospital hallway. I spotted Allison right away; she was sitting slouched over, sound asleep, with her head leaning against the wall.

I walked up to her and gently nudged her shoulder. Immediately she turned, her eyes squinting as she looked up at me.

“Have you been here all night?” Scott asked, coming up beside me.

Allison nodded. “Yeah, they won’t let me see him because I’m not family.” She sighed and shook her head minutely. “I told them he doesn’t have any.”

“Well, he’s got us.” Melissa said strongly before holding up a plastic card. “And I’ve got a key card.”

I smiled at Melissa and helped Allison up before we made our way to Isaac’s room that was situated halfway down the hall. Melissa swiped the key card; there was a clicking-sound that came from the door as it unlocked.

“Be quick.” Melissa advised Allison, Scott, and I.

We all nodded and slowly walked into the room. Isaac was unconscious in a hospital bed that was surrounded by beeping machines. As we got closer to him, I could see horrible burns covering the right side of his face traveling down his neck. To be honest, I was shocked to see them—I thought he would be healing by now.

Allison was thinking along the same lines because, as she looked down at Isaac sadly, she said, “I thought he’d be healing by now.”

“So did I.” Scott said, looking at Isaac with confused eyes. He slowly lowered his hand and cupped Isaac’s burnt arm.

“Is he in pain?” Allison asked worriedly.

Scott nodded before looking back at Allison and I. Sighing slightly, he gripped Isaac’s arm with a firmer hand. He inhaled sharply as black veins started creeping up his hand to his forearm.

Isaac shifted as Scott slowly took his pain from him. However, when Scott winced and cried out, I pulled his hand away from Isaac, not wanting Scott to hurt himself. Scott let out a big breath as he let me take his hand.

Turning to Allison, he explained, “It won’t heal him, but it helps with the pain.”

“Did Stiles really do this?” Allison wondered, looking at us with wide eyes.

“Whatever’s controlling him did it.” I corrected her. “Whatever’s inside him.”

“Well, then how do we get whatever’s inside of him the fuck out of him?” Allison asked, her tone a bit harsh.

“I’m working on it.” Scott answered.

-

Scott, Kira, and I walked down the stairs in school. Scott had told me that Kira was a kitsune and that the Nogitsune was a kitsune, only a dark one. It didn’t make any sense when he told me this, but I went along with it, hoping that Kira could give us some answers about the thing possessing Stiles.

“The thing is, in all of the stories, kitsune are tricksters.” Kira explained. “They’re mischievous. They don’t really get caught up in right or wrong or even understand it.”

“What’s that mean?” Scott gripped the strap of his backpack. “It’s just doing this for the hell of it?”

“No,” Kira shook her head. “There was something else I found. If you somehow offend a Nogitsune, it can react pretty badly.”

“How do you offend a Nogitsune?” I spoke up curiously.

“I don’t know.” Kira sighed. “But if it’s doing something this bad, then someone really, really offended it.”

I bit my lip worriedly. I hope that Scott and I, or any of our friends, hadn’t offended the Nogitsune. Not only would that be bad for us, but for Stiles, as well. I didn’t know how conscious he was when the Nogitsune possessed him, but I hoped to God that he didn’t remember anything.

“Thanks, Kira.” I gave the taller girl a small smile. She tentatively smiled back. “Come on, we have cross-country practice.”

The three of us walked toward the boys’ and girls’ locker rooms, where we split up. Since I was technically on the team, I didn’t have to dress out, so I was able to head into the boys’ locker room with Scott.

As soon as we walked in, Coach blew his whistle loudly.

“Listen up!” He yelled. “Anybody catches the slightest glimpse of Stilinski, you contact the first available teacher. Got it?” When no one responded, Coach shouted, “Got it?”

“Yes, Coach.” Everyone stated obediently.

“There’s a card on my desk for Isaac Lahey.” Coach continued. “And everyone one of you losers is not only going to sign it, you’re going to write a personal message so profound and deep it’s gonna bring a tear to Coach’s eye.” He held up a pen. “Who’s first?”

Danny stood up and took the pen.

“Ah, Danny!” Coach cheered. “That’s how you do it, buddy! Keep it PG.”

Scott and I exchanged exasperated glances and walked over to Scott’s locker. Surprisingly, Ethan and Aiden were standing there, waiting for us.

“No Stiles, no demonic ninjas.” Aiden listed as we approached them.

“Things are getting too quiet.” Ethan added.

“Yeah, I know.” Scott nodded, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. “It’s making me nervous too.”

All of a sudden, Scott winced, covering his ears. Ethan and Aiden grimaced, too.

“What?” I asked.

“Do you guys hear that?” Ethan said, looking to Aiden and Scott.

“Hear what?”

“It’s an emitter.” Scott informed me and the twins at once. “One of Argent’s.”

The boys started walking out of the locker room, following the source of the noise. I followed them, wondering what was going on. We left the locker room and started down the hallway, the boys listening to the emitter closely.

“It’s coming from the basement.” Ethan stated.

We hurriedly went down to the basement. As we went down the last few steps, I looked around. I paused immediately, finding a familiar silhouette standing further down the length of the room.

“Stiles?” I called, causing Scott, Ethan, and Aiden to turn their attention to who I thought was Stiles.

I was right. As he turned around, Stiles’ face glinted in the light coming from the emitter in his hand. The only question was, was this actually Stiles, or was it the Nogitsune?

“Okay, I know what you guys are thinking, but it’s me.” Stiles stated, raising his hands. “I swear to God, it’s me.”

There were two identical growls and Ethan and Aiden rushed forward, pushing me and Scott aside to get to Stiles. Scott and I hurried after them as the twins grabbed Stiles by the neck and hoisted him up into the air.

“Wait, stop!” I cried, reaching forward to grab Aiden’s arm. He pushed me away roughly and luckily, Scott caught me before I fell to the ground.

Scott set me down and pulled at Ethan, throwing him away from Stiles, where he landed against a metal cabinet. Aiden, however, was still holding Stiles’ throat.

“Stop!” Scott demanded, grabbing Aiden’s arm.

Aiden let go of Stiles and turned to Scott, growling loudly. Scott roared back, his eyes turning crimson as he bared his fangs. Aiden immediately quieted and looked away, almost whimpering.

I pushed past Aiden and grabbed Stiles’ bicep. Stiles, who was eyeing Scott in an impressed way, put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into a hug.

“It’s me, Y/N. I swear it’s me.” He said, squeezing me tightly.

“Where were you?” I whimpered into his chest.

“I don’t know.” He said, pulling away. He kept an arm around me as he turned to Scott. “I don’t know where I’ve been the last two days or what I’ve been doing, but this is me. I promise.”

“You know what happened at the hospital?” Ethan spoke up, still on the floor.

“I know more than that.” Stiles muttered. Sighing, he let go of me and walked to a bag that was on the floor. He crouched down before it and pulled a folded piece of paper from it. “See this? It’s a blueprint of the hospital’s electrical wiring.” He unfolded the blueprint. “You see all these markings in red? That’s my handwriting. I know I did this. I know I caused the accident.”

Scott and I exchanged worried looks before looking back at Stiles, who was watching us carefully.

“Everything in this bag,” Stiles continued, looking down at the bag filled with odds and ends. “It’s all stuff that could be a part of something bigger.”

Ethan picked up a small saw and held it up for everyone to see. “What the fuck have you been up to?”

“I think something worse.” Stiles sighed, looking at Scott. “A lot worse.”

Aiden grabbed the bag and walked over to a nearby table. Ethan, Scott, Stiles, and I followed him. The twins started pulling things out of the bag at random; there was rope, wire, bolts and nuts, and more things that I couldn’t see.

“What the fuck were you doing?” Aiden looked at Stiles. “Building a Terminator?”

Stiles exhaled sharply and glared at Aiden. “Thank you for that.”

Seeing another piece of paper, I reached into the bag. Unfolding it, I realized that it was a map.

“Guys, this is a map.” I told the others, smoothing the map down on the table.

“Isn’t that the cross-country trail?” Ethan asked, his finger following the trail outlined in red.

“That’s the Tate car.” Scott pointed out a place on the map. “Where Malia Tate’s family died.”

“You mean that’s where her father put the steel-jawed traps.” Stiles corrected him.

We all looked at each other in realization. Then, without much prompting, we started toward the stairs. Someone was in serious trouble and I hoped we’d get there in time to stop whatever the Nogitsune had planned.

-

The Jeep’s tires squealed as we came to a stop right behind the cross-country bus. The five of us got out of the vehicle and ran toward Coach, who had jumped up from his spot on a boulder.

“Coach!” Stiles called as we ran toward him.

“Stilinski!” Coach said, looking shocked. “Where—”

“Coach, listen close.” Stiles interrupted him as Ethan and Scott tore off into the woods.

Stiles quickly explained that there were coyote traps situated all over the cross-country trail and that we needed to stop everyone before someone got hurt. Looking the most serious that I had ever saw him, Coach nodded.

Aiden, Stiles, Coach, and I started sprinting toward the end of the trail.

“Scott!” Stiles shouted as we got close enough to see Scott and Kira. Behind them, more cross-country members were approaching. “Stop, stop, stop! Everyone, stop!”

We came to a stop and Stiles looked around at the leaf-covered ground. Spotting something, he bent down and, to my surprise, picked up a metal loop that was connected to a link-chain. Stiles slowly picked up the chain. I watched with bated breath, wondering what he would find on the other end of it.

And then the chain came up from the ground and Stiles pulled another metal loop into the air. Coach started clapping slowly while Scott, Ethan, Aiden, Stiles, and I looked around, bewildered.

“Congratulations, Stilinski.” Coach said, stepping forward. “You found a length of chain. Can somebody now please tell me what the hell’s going on?”

As Coach stepped forward again, there was a small creaking noise. I looked down and saw that Coach had stepped right into a trip wire.

“Hey, Coach!” Scott yelled, pointing to the wire, but it was too late.

An arrow whizzed out of nowhere and embedded itself deep into Coach’s stomach. Kira and I let out identical gasps of shock as Coach looked down at the arrow.

“Oh crap.” He muttered before falling to the ground.

Everyone gathered around Coach. I kneeled next to his head, grabbing his shoulders to wake him up, while Stiles and Scott kneeled on either side of his abdomen. Blood spread through Coach’s white sweatshirt and when Stiles grabbed the arrow gently, Coach woke with a start, screaming his head off.

“Get it out of me!” He shrieked. “Get it out of me. Get it out of me. Oh, my God, I’m gonna die.”

He was squirming so much as Stiles applied pressure to his stomach, that, in addition of me holding his shoulders, Aiden and Scott had to hold down his arms.

“Get it out of me! I’m gonna die!” Coach cried out.

"Coach—” I said, in what I hoped to be a soothing voice. He let out another scream as Stiles applied more pressure. “Coach, you’re not gonna die.”

“I’m gonna die!” Coach yelled, ignoring what I said.

“It will hurt less if you stop moving, Coach.” Aiden advised, pushing Coach’s arm into the ground as he continued squirming.

“Get that thing out of me!” Coach yelped.

“Stay still, Coach.” I said, applying more pressure to his shoulders. “An ambulance is coming.”

“Get it out! I’m gonna die!”

“Get back!” Aiden suddenly yelled to the bystanders. “Get back! Give him some room! Get back!”

Ethan herded the crowd back about ten feet while Scott grabbed Coach’s hand tightly. Aiden, Stiles, and I watched as Scott closed his eyes and black veins started up from his hand to his forearm, taking away Coach’s pain. He let out a gasp as he felt Coach’s pain.

Coach’s head suddenly fell limply to the side.

“I think he just passed out.” I informed the boys.

Stiles let out shaky breaths, raising his hands. They were shaking roughly and covered in Coach’s blood.

“I could have killed him.” Stiles stated weakly. “I could have killed him, right? What if it was his head or his throat?”

“But it wasn’t.” Scott assured Stiles. “And he’s going to be all right.”

“I think I just heard an ambulance coming.” Aiden stated, looking around.

At that moment, I heard sirens wailing as the ambulance and cops came.

“And my dad.” Stiles added.

-

Scott and I stood by the front of the jeep, watching as the paramedics loaded Coach into the back of the ambulance. A little further away, Stiles and Noah were reuniting. I smiled weakly as I turned to look at them and saw that they were hugging each other tightly.

“Scott, Y/N.” Ethan called from where he and Aiden were rummaging in the back of the Jeep. “You better look at this.”

Scott and I walked over to them. Ethan had another bag of tools and equipment out and a roll of wrapping paper.

“This is the same wrapping paper we used for Coach’s birthday present.” Scott murmured, picking up the roll.

“Wasn’t that William Barrow’s thing?” Ethan asked. “A bomb made from nails and bolts all wrapped in a birthday present?”

Scott and I nodded, exchanging worried looks.

“Where did it go off?” Aiden questioned.

I looked over at Stiles, who was still talking to Noah. I looked back at the twins and Scott, a look of horror on my face as I remembered what Stiles told me back when William Barrow was loose.

“On a school bus.”

It was a rush as we quickly told Stiles and Noah what we thought was happening. Noah, with wide, horrified eyes, quickly got a hold of the police station, who told the school what was happening.

Scott, Stiles, Aiden, Ethan, and I drove back to the school in a nervous silence and when we got there, we booked it to where the buses were stationed. There was already a crowd forming, watching as Deputy Parrish, dressed up in bomb-safety equipment, nodded at Noah and slowly climbed onto the bus.

“Who’s on there?” I quietly asked the girl standing next to me.

She gulped, looking pale, and answered, “Jared. It’s Jared.”

I bit my lip and looked back to the bus. I kind of remembered Jared. He was on the cross-country team until Coach kicked him off for puking all over the bus that one trip to a meet.

It was quiet as we waited for something to happen. The only sounds were that of people shifting nervously, awaiting the outcome. Then, I heard Noah’s radio go off.

“It’s not a bomb, sir, but there is something in the box.” Came Deputy Parrish’s voice.

I watched as Deputy Parrish walked through the bus and clapped something against the windshield. Squinting, I saw that it was Noah’s nameplate from his office at the police station.

Stiles, Scott, and I exchanged bewildered glances. What was happening?

Noah looked around and whispered something. I could only tell that he said something because his mouth moved. Stiles and I turned to Scott, who was listening closely.

“He said that there’s a bomb, but it’s not here.” Scott informed Stiles and I.

-

We arrived at the police station just as the bomb went off; I gaped as part of the building blew up. Scott, Stiles, and I jumped out of the Jeep and followed Noah and Deputy Parrish into the building when they declared it was safe.

I couldn’t move as I looked around the station; multiple police officers were down on the ground. Some where dead, some where injured, and some were on the brink of death.

“Get me an ambulance here at the sheriff’s station.” Noah said into his radio. “We’ve got an explosion. We got multiple officers down. Multiple officers down. We need an ambulance, A.S.A.P. on the double.”

“Scott?” Stiles called loudly as he kneeled by a dying deputy. “Scott?”

Scott rushed over to Stiles and the deputy and I followed him. I gasped and quickly covered my mouth as I saw the state of the man. He was heavily injured and it looked like he was fading fast. However, he seemed like he was in a great deal of pain.

“Can you do something?” Stiles asked Scott. “Take his pain? Anything to make it easier?”

Scott nodded shakily and grabbed the deputy’s shaking hand. With a loud grunt, the black veins started upward toward his forearm again, like it had down two times today already. The deputy let out a gasp and looked up at Scott, blood dripping from his mouth, before his head dropped, falling limply to the side.

I looked down at the man, tears coming to my eyes. Crouching down quickly, I closed the deputy’s eyes and looked at Scott. He looked devastated.

Looking up, Scott glanced at Stiles. He grabbed his hand and pulled him up before taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. The three of us started out of the station at the insistence of Noah.

Then, out of nowhere, Kira came running into the station, looking frantic. “The Oni.” She gasped. “They’re coming.”

“Stiles, we gotta get you out of here.” Scott said, looking at Stiles. “Let’s go.”

We reached the Jeep and hopped in, Kira and I in the backseat. Stiles started up the engine and looked at Scott expectantly.

“The animal clinic.” Scott told Stiles. “Drive there.”

Stomping on the gas, Stiles turned out of the parking lot and started driving toward the animal clinic. At this point, the animal clinic was the best place we could hide Stiles from the Oni. They wouldn’t be able to get past the mountain ash for a while.

“We’re going to an animal clinic?” Kira asked, confused.

“Yeah, the place is lined with mountain ash.” I informed her.

“Just like my house.” Scott added. “It will buy us some time.”

“But they can get through it?” Stiles said, looking at Scott briefly.

“Eventually.” Scott nodded.

“Nobody’s got any better ideas?” Stiles said, looking back at me through the rear-view mirror. I shook my head. “Okay, sure.” Stiles nodded. “Animal clinic.”

-

By the time we pulled up to the animal clinic, it was pouring outside. We stumbled out of the jeep into the rain and ran toward the double doors, getting soaked in seconds. I scrambled to get the key but paused as I noticed, from the corner of my eye, that Scott had stopped and turned around.

Squinting, I noticed dark shadows forming a semi-circle around us. As they walked toward us, Scott turned around and shouted, “Stiles, Y/N, get inside!”

I ran to the door and unlocked it as quickly as I could. Stiles rushed inside and I turned, seeing that Kira had gone still, watching as Scott transformed and started fighting the Oni.

“Hey, Kira, get inside!” I yelled, hoping she could hear me over the rain. “Kira!”

I didn’t think she could hear me; she was throwing small cat cages at the Oni, her shoulders shrugged defensively.

I went to go get her but was stopped abruptly as Stiles grabbed my hand. I gave him a questioning look as he pulled me inside the clinic.

“Stiles, what…” I started, only to shake my head. “We’ve got to help them.”

I went to walk around Stiles but he grabbed both of my arms, his grip unbearably tight.

“Stiles, you’re hurting me.” I whimpered, looking up at him in furrowed eyebrows.

“Am I?” Stiles smirked, pushing me into the exam room.

I slipped, falling down to the ground. As I landed, I looked up at him in shock. He wasn’t acting like Stiles at all.

“Figure it out yet, sweetheart?” Stiles drawled, a smirk still planted on his lips. “Or is it baby? I’m pretty sure that’s what Stiles calls you.”

Oh, my God. My eyes widened in horror as I scrambled away from him, not even to my feet again. This wasn’t Stiles at all—it was the Nogitsune!

“There we go.” Stiles—the Nogitsune—nodded in approval. He bent down and grabbed me, pulling me to my feet before slamming me against an aluminum cabinet. With a gentle hand, he caressed my jaw slowly. “Here’s what we’re going to do.” He stated, his voice firm.

“Get away from me!” I cried out.

SMACK.

I gasped as the Nogitsune’s hand slammed against my face, making my head turn with the force of it. White-hot pain swept through my head and I looked at the Nogitsune with blurry eyes, tears already falling down my cheeks.

“Listen to me, got it?” He growled. I nodded fearfully. “You’re going to stand here and keep your pretty, little mouth shut.”

“Wh—”

“I said, keep your mouth shut!” The Nogitsune spat, pushing me roughly against the cabinet. “Keep your mouth shut or I swear I’ll kill him.”

I didn’t know which “him” he was talking about, but I had a lot of important guys in my life and I didn’t want any of them hurt. The Nogitsune seemed satisfied with my silence. He gave me one last frightening smirk before he pulled away from me, heading to the door.

“All right, come on.” I heard him, now acting as Stiles again, say. “Get him inside! Get him inside!”

Kira appeared, holding Scott up; he had a sword coming out of his stomach. I gasped and rushed forward, helping Kira bring Scott into the exam room. We leaned Scott against the stainless-steel table in the middle of the room and he let out a shout as Kira grabbed the sword, preparing to pull it out.

The Nogitsune grabbed Kira’s wrist tightly and pulled her hand away from the sword so she couldn’t get it out of Scott. Kira groaned in pain as he squeezed her arm and before Scott and I could object or even move, he slammed her head against the table, knocking her out.

The Nogitsune breathed in deeply and looked at me. “Over there.” He pointed to the counter. He snapped his fingers when I didn’t move and shouted, “I said over there!”

I quickly moved, remembering his threat, and stood by the counter. The Nogitsune, satisfied that I listened to him, turned toward Scott and glanced down at the sword impaled through his stomach.

The Nogitsune reached up and, as though he were playing the piano, tapped his fingers on the handle of the sword. Looking up at Scott, he raised his hand and said, “You okay?”

“Please don’t.” Scott breathed, looking at the Nogitsune with confused eyes. “Stop.”

“It’s okay.” The Nogitsune said before gripping the handle of the sword, clapping his free hand on Scott’s shoulder, and twisting the sword into Scott’s body.

Scott let out a loud groan; he squirmed in pain as the Nogitsune continued to twist the sword through his flesh.

“Stop!” I shouted, but the Nogitsune didn’t pay me any attention.

“Does it hurt?” The Nogitsune asked Scott, looking unaffected by Scott’s shouts and groans. “Hey, look at me.” He twisted the sword and pushed it further into Scott’s stomach; Scott let out a scream. “You should have done your reading, Scott.”

“Please stop!” I cried, rushing toward them, the threat forgotten.

The Nogitsune simply lifted his hand off the sword and pushed me down to the ground. I fell to the floor and with a sadistic grin, the Nogitsune raised his foot and stomped down on my wrist. I screamed loudly as there was a snap and pain radiated through me.

“Where was I?” The Nogitsune turned back to Scott, who was looking down at me in horror. “Look at me, Scott. See, a Nogitsune feeds off chaos, strife, and pain.” He informed Scott, shaking a little. “This morning you took it from Isaac, then you took it from Coach, and then a dying deputy. All that pain. You took it all.”

The Nogitsune moved the hand that was gripping Scott’s shoulder to the side of his head. “Now.” The Nogitsune bared his teeth and said intensely, “Give it to me.”

Scott started groaning and the Nogitsune gasped in pleasure. Black veins appeared on Scott’s face and connected to the Nogitsune’s hand. The Nogitsune moaned, his face contorting in what I saw was the face Stiles made when he orgasmed. It was creepy at the moment, though, instead of arousing like it usually was.

The Nogitsune finally let go of Scott’s face, gripping his shoulder once again. The Nogitsune smirked at Scott.

“You really have to learn, Scott. You really have to learn not to trust a fox.” He laughed, bring up a hand to shake a finger in Scott’s face. “Mm-mm. You know why? Because they’re tricksters.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone walk into the exam room. To my immense relief, I saw that it was Dr. Deaton, and he was carrying a needle in his hand. Seeing my gaze on him, he put a finger to his lips, warning me to be quiet. I nodded and looked back to the Nogitsune and Scott.

“They’ll fool you.” The Nogitsune said to Scott. “They’ll fool everyone.”

“Not everyone.” Dr. Deaton said, coming up right beside them.

Both the Nogitsune and Scott looked at Dr. Deaton in shock. Using this to his advantage, Dr. Deaton pierced the Nogitsune’s neck with the needle, injecting him with something. I didn’t know what it was, but it caused the Nogitsune to slump against Dr. Deaton.

The Nogitsune laughed shakily, as though he was impressed, as he slowly collapsed to the ground, falling right beside me. I looked at him closely, but he was unconscious.

Dr. Deaton stepped toward Scott, who was looking at Stiles’ body with wide eyes, and grabbed the sword. With a pain-filled grunt from Scott, Dr. Deaton pulled the weapon out of him and threw it to the floor.

“What was that?” I spoke up, looking between Dr. Deaton, Scott, and Stiles’ body. “Was that a cure? Is he okay?”

“The fox is poisoned.” Dr. Deaton answered simply. “But it’s not dead. Not yet.”

@julzdec @karamelcoveredolicity @thegirlalmighty01 @eat-unicornpoop @belleknows @supernaturallover2002  @dontstopxx @feelingsareharddd @brien-odylan @shewritesshedraws @dylnobrien1911 @kaleyana @mad-hatter-021 @nikcentric @addietagglikesbands @seninjakitey @shayke-and-bake @southsiderepresent @screamxqueenx94 @lostinwonderland314 @rissa-raeken @caitsymichelle13 @barryallenplease @dafine18 @loverofwaytoomanythings618

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Merry Christmas, @bloodgutsandstarbucks!

Read on AO3

******

Love Don’t Lie

Stiles set his paperwork on his desk and caught the eye of his new partner, Scott McCall. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Scott grinned. “I have the best idea.”

He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. “Oh?”

“Since you’re new in town, I was thinking, you probably don’t know many people, and you moved into that big house outside of town…I could set you up with someone!”

Stiles’s jaw hung open. “Like a date?”

“Yes! But don’t worry, I have someone in mind. It’s perfect, because he’s new to town, too!”

Stiles laughed a little hysterically. “No, no, I think you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m actually happily-”

“No, really, he's perfect. His name is Derek Hale, he works with my wife. He's new to Beacon Hills, just like you, and he hasn’t gotten to know anyone yet, either!” Scott’s eyes widened and rounded, shining like a cartoon.

Stiles paused. “...Oh? And he's single?”

“Well, we’re pretty sure. He doesn’t have a ring, and he hasn’t mentioned anyone. How about this!” Scott waved his phone. “I’ll tell Kira to relay the message that you’re interested, and then he’ll let us know if he’s single or not.”

Stiles covered a laugh with a cough. He could just imagine what Derek's face would do at that little invitation. “Sure. You do that.”

“Great! I’ll let her know! Oh, also, we’re supposed to go check out a gnome thief on Saundersville Road,” he added cheerfully.

“Small towns are nothing but excitement, eh?”

Scott laughed.

Stiles grimaced at the menu in front of him, trying to avoid eye contact with his…date.

An irritable sigh made him finally look up. “You shouldn’t have agreed to this.”

“There were circumstances,” Stiles hissed. “And excuse me, you agreed, too!”

“I only agreed because I was told you’d already said yes!” Derek set his own menu down with a slap.

Stiles pointed at him. “And you didn’t want to disappoint your new buddy, right?”

“Kira is my boss, I couldn’t just tell her no after she said you’d agreed! It would be rude!”

“Yeah, well, Scott’s my partner, and I couldn’t say no to him, either!” Stiles held up his hands. “Look, we just have to pretend to date for a little while, until they lose interest. No big deal, and no sad puppy eyes from Scott.”

Derek stared at him. “Stiles,” he began.

“No, really, it’ll be no big deal, I swear. All we have to do is go out after work together once a week for a staged date. Like this!”

“I hate going out to eat.”

He sighed. “Homemade is better, but seriously. Three dates is all it’ll take for them to take a step back.”

Derek sighed deeply.

“If you’d seen Scott’s puppy dog eyes, you’d understand.”

“Kira’s got them, too,” he said.

“So, it’s a deal?”

“Fine,” he mumbled grudgingly. “It’s a deal.”

Scott cornered Stiles at the station the next morning. “So?” he asked eagerly. “How’d it go?”

Stiles almost spat out his coffee; he’d briefly forgotten about the nonsense that was his life. “Uh—good. We’re going to go out again on, uh, Friday,” he fabricated, nearly wincing. He’d have to let Derek know.

Scott lit up. “That’s awesome! I knew you two would get along.”

“Uh-huh, yep. It was great.”

“Where are you guys going?”

“Ummm…”

Scott beamed. “You should volunteer at the animal shelter!”

Stiles’s face must have done something weird.

“No, really. I know it sounds weird, but it’s actually a good way to get to know someone. Plus, cute animals and doing a good deed! It’ll be perfect, I have a friend who works there, and she can make sure you get an easy job, you won’t even have to clean up any poop.”

“Ah…”

Scott’s eyes rounded just a little.

Stiles sighed. “That sounds…fun. We’ll do that.”

“Great! Also, we got assigned to take statements for a robbery.” He grinned and clapped his shoulder before walking out of the break room.

Stiles rubbed his eyes and pulled his phone out. He was sure Derek was going to love the plan.

Stiles was in love. Their names were Snickers, Milky Way, and Kit Kat. “No, really. I’ll obviously take care of them, and Scott would love the story.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “And this is all for Scott’s benefit,” he muttered. He cleared his throat. “Wouldn’t Scott find it suspicious if you adopted two dogs and a kitten on our second date?”

Stiles held up Snickers, a three year old mix of some very small dogs. “I want him.”

“Don’t you have enough pets?”

“Scott obviously thinks I’m lonely.”

Derek scoffed.

Stiles set Milky Way in Derek’s lap. Technically, they were supposed to be bathing the dogs for the coming adoption fair, but Stiles considered pre-bath cuddles part of the bathing process. They deserved it.

“Do we really have to continue this?”

“Oh, what else did you have to do tonight?” Stiles scoffed.

“Unpack! And I could have had plans!”

He rolled his eyes. “It is one night out of your week. You can spare that much time for a fake date with your fake boyfriend.”

“This is only our second fake date, so I think you’re jumping ahead calling yourself my fake boyfriend. Fake boyfriend is after at least three fake dates, and you have to walk me to my fake door, and give me a fake kiss goodnight.”

“You’re very high maintenance,” Stiles observed, kissing Snickers on the nose. “Maybe I don’t want you to be my fake boyfriend.”

Derek smiled pleasantly. “Then you can tell Scott and Kira the truth.”

“Uh, you agreed, too. You’ll have to tell Kira.” Stiles lifted Snickers to eye level, staring into his sleepy brown eyes. “Look, pal, this is gonna be traumatizing for both of us,” he said seriously. “But I promise, I will be here for you the whole time. We’ll be quick and thorough.”

Snickers didn’t seem to mind the bath; he even seemed to enjoy the warm water and gentle massage.

“Dramatic,” Derek muttered while Stiles dried him off.

“Rude!”

The next day at the station, Scott and Allison Argent, another officer, looked way too eager to hear about his date.

“It went well,” Stiles said, feeling harangued. “We’re going, uh, out to eat on Saturday.”

“That’s so awesome! See, I told you I was a good matchmaker,” Scott boasted.

Allison’s eyes narrowed. “I guess. But historically, you really aren’t. You’re almost always terrible at setting people up.”

Stiles laughed awkwardly. “Well, he was bound to get lucky once, right?”

That made her relax a little, flashing a quick smile. “That’s true. Well, I’m glad your date went well. Tell us how Saturday goes!”

“Yep, sure.” He nodded maybe a little too enthusiastically, because they both stared at him. “Uh, I just remembered I have some paperwork left over. See you later!”

“So if they’re onto us,” Derek said on Saturday, “why don’t we just tell them the truth?”

They were at a restaurant, since they had to eat sometime, and it’d might as well be on their date.

“Because you didn’t see Scott’s face. He was so proud of himself for successfully setting me up.”

Derek nodded while staring at the table. “So, do you like him?”

“Sure, he’s-” Stiles caught on a second too late. “No, not like that.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s the first friend I’ve made! I don’t want to crush his spirit.” He looked around the restaurant; at least four sets of eyes quickly looked away. Small towns. He smirked. “Hey, I had an idea.”

“Oh?” Derek did not look enthused.

“What if,” Stiles lowered his voice, “we kissed a little, here? I’m sure it’ll get back to them in a town this size, and they’ll know everything’s just as I said, and it’ll all be fine.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “If we kiss, they’ll know we aren’t dating.”

Stiles scowled at him. “What, you don’t want to kiss me?”

“You know-”

“Yes or no.” Stiles leaned forward and grinned. “Chicken?”

Derek grinned and leaned in, too. “Never.”

They were still kissing when someone cleared their throat right beside their table.

Stiles jerked back, flushing all the way to his hairline when he saw their audience. “Hey, Scott,” he said in a high pitched voice. “Whatcha doing here?”

Derek blinked. “Hi, Kira…Boyd.” His gaze darted over to the blond man and woman with them. “Date night?” he asked weakly.

“Nope,” the blonde woman said brightly. She leaned around Boyd and dropped something on the table.

Stiles stared at the matching silver rings.

“This is Isaac,” Scott said, gesturing at the blond man. “And Erica. We’ve all been friends since high school.”

“Hi,” Stiles said weakly.

“Isaac works at the Kenzie Jewelers on Main Street.”

“Oh?”

Derek dropped his head in his hands.

“Apparently, about four weeks ago—right before your first day at the museum, Derek,” Kira said brightly, “a man dropped off his and his spouse’s wedding rings for a cleaning.”

Scott picked up from there. “I was telling Isaac about my new partner, and how I set him up for a date with Kira’s new curator of prints and drawings, and you know, he said those names sounded awfully familiar.”

Stiles winced. “I can explain,” he said earnestly. He grabbed his ring and put it on, letting out a little sigh as it settled; he’d felt naked without it.

“Do tell. Please.” Kira crossed her arms.

Scott pulled the puppy eyes again.

Derek lifted his head. “Stiles didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”

Scott made a face. “You could’ve just told me you were married.”

Stiles waved a hand frantically. “I tried! You kept interrupting me to tell me how great my husband was!”

Scott winced.

“And then,” he continued, “you told me his name, and I figured, hey, that’s fine, we’ll go on a date, no big deal. We could use a break from unpacking anyway. But then you were so excited that you successfully set someone up that I couldn’t come clean!”

Isaac let out a muffled snort.

Erica held up a hand. “So…Scott’s only success in matchmaking…was an already married couple?”

“Looks that way,” Boyd said. He glanced at Stiles and said, flatly, “He set me up with Isaac.”

Isaac pinched the bridge of his nose. “We all took an oath to never speak of that again!”

“The point is,” Scott said loudly, “you could have just told me. I wouldn’t have been upset.”

“I figured you’d just…back off, once we’d been on a few dates,” Stiles said weakly. He frowned at his wedding ring. “Why did the cleaning take so long, anyway?”

Derek rubbed his temple, avoiding eye contact as he put his own ring on.

“What, did you forget to pick them up or something?” he snickered.

“No, the cleaning only takes about fifteen minutes, maybe an hour if we’re really busy,” Isaac said cheerfully. “But since we’re the only jeweler in town, the engraving can take three or four weeks, especially near the holidays.”

Stiles’s mouth fell open. “What engraving?”

Derek sighed and reached for Stiles’s hand. He gently removed the ring and tilted it. “Merry Christmas,” he mumbled.

Stiles took it so he could read it. He smiled, then laughed at the engraving: Dramatic. He lifted his eyes and found Derek holding his own ring, tilted so he could see the engraving on that one: Rude.

“What does it mean?” Isaac asked. “We were all trying to figure it out.”

Stiles cleared his throat. “It’s the first thing we said to each other when we met.” He swiped at his nose surreptitiously. “We met in a bookstore back in New York; we ran into each other, literally, and I spilled hot coffee all over myself. I started swearing and…stuff, and Derek called me dramatic, I called him rude.” He shrugged. “We got some napkins and had lunch together.” He slid his ring on and rubbed his thumb over it. “I love it.”

Derek smiled at him. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Isaac winced. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s alright.” Stiles snorted. “I get the feeling that secrets don’t survive long around here.”

“No,” Scott agreed, laughing.

Stiles leaned over the table to kiss Derek, because he had to. Then he looked up at their friends. “You guys should join us for dinner, since you’re already here.” He grinned. “We still have a ton of unpacking to procrastinate on, might as well do it right.”

Derek sighed. “The only things we’ve unpacked are the cats’ beds and food bowls.”

“Madame Socks can’t sleep unless she has her own bed, Derek. Tip can sleep anywhere!”

“Madame Socks is the oldest cat,” Derek explained with a grimace. “Tip is the dog.”

“This is so weird,” Scott said with some awe. “You guys are so married. I should have guessed.”

Stiles folded his hand in Derek’s. “Probably. I’m starving, seriously, if we don’t eat soon, there will be tears.”

Derek lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles. “Dramatic,” he murmured.

“Rude,” Stiles laughed.

[merelliahallewell]

A Steamy Romance Novel.

Merellia writes the steamiest romance story content there is, but can’t seem to actually get a moment to indulge in her writing. 

Originally posted on the ED forums way back when, so this is kind of a longer one. The whole thing is after the jump!

It was a quiet October morning at Light’s Hope Chapel. The wind stirred at the leaves of the trees, sending handfuls cascading slowly to the ground, while the branches of the pines rustled against each other under the chilly breeze. The sun shone brightly overhead, illuminating the grounds of the great encampment around the chapel. Holy men and women of all kinds had gathered there recently, offering aid to the wounded paladins of the Silver Hand. Merellia Hallewell was among the clergy there. She’d kept to herself these days, only leaving her tent when she would check upon her leader, wounded in battle with a death knight. With her superior (and frend) Lady Valorheart incapacitated, Merellia might have even even grown a little bit lonely. She hated it here. It wasn’t as if she enjoyed the company of the self-righteous Argents, anyway, but somebody to talk to would be nice. She opened her small bundle of belongings she’d brought with her, and began to search for her journal- it was time to do some writing. In the months since she’d joined the Scarlet March, Merellia hadn’t gotten much time to write. She’d allowed herself to be consumed by work, keeping little time for herself. “I used to enjoy this,” she muttered, locating the journal and fishing it out of the bundle. “I think it is time to start a new story, though.” She found a fresh quill and ink bottle, and arranged them on the small table she’d been provided. She enjoyed writing romance. It was fulfilling for her, in a way, to get these ideas out onto the page. It wasn’t as if she’d have a romance of her own, after all. Was it a vice, to write such things? Perhaps so. After all, she had taken vows, early on in the Crusade, but writing romance wasn’t like she was breaking them. Merciella let out the last quiet note of her morning hymns, allowing a peaceful silence to return to the small chapel. It was barely past sunrise, the first light of the day just barely peeking past the eastern hills and through the stained glass to fall onto Merciella’s kneeling form. Her arms were still lifted up, as if she was offering her hymn to the Light... Merellia lifted her quill, squinting judgmentally at her own words. Merciella the priestess? Was that truly what she was going with for a name? If somebody found this- it might even be obvious who the writer was... not that Merelllia had any intention of publishing it. No, none at all. This was something purely for her own eyes. Perhaps she’d make Merciella an Argent, just to be sure to throw people off. Up at the top of the page, she scribbled out “A Steamy Romance Novel: Argent Allure.” That worked. ...A slight cough disturbed the silence, and Merciella froze and turned her head towards the source of the noise. Before her was a woman of such incredible beauty that she couldn’t help but inhale sharply. Long, curly hair the radiant color of sunlight itself cascaded down onto her shoulders, her form encased in an armored robe that gave only the slightest hint at curves hidden beneath. Her sword rested at her side as she leaned back against one of the pillars with her arms crossed, eyeing Merciella with a smile and a gaze that sent shivers down the priestess’ spine... Merellia dipped her quill in the ink once again, coughing slightly before she resumed her writing. She could picture it in her mind’s eye, now. ...Their gazes roamed across each other briefly before their eyes met. Her face seemed kind and youthful, and the look in her eyes belied wisdom and grace beyond her years. After a moment’s worth of eye contact, the woman spoke. “That was a beautiful hymn, priestess. Forgive me for intruding, and for my quietness. I didn’t wish to stop you.” The corners of her mouth twitched into a small, encouraging smile, and Merciella couldn’t help but feel a smile form on her own face in response. She’d nod after a few moments, trying to suppress the blush creeping onto her cheeks.. “Thank you, Ma’am. This is... just my daily ritual. I am not used to having an audience, a- and especially not one like you.” 

The priestess flushed fully, now, diverting her gaze from the woman’s face to the cold stone floor. “One so, ah-... um-... never mind. My apologies.” She forgot she’d been kneeling, having been so enraptured by her visitor’s beauty, and stood up, using the altar to get to her feet. “Most of the other clergy here are still in their dormitories, but I would gladly assist you with whatever you may need, Miss...” she quirked a brow, waiting for a name.

The woman let out a laugh. “I am Lady Lightshield, paladin defender of the Church- but you’re more than welcome to address me as Alanra.”

“O- oh, my. Well, Lady Ligh- Alanra, I am more than happy to assist you in any ways you might need. Um- if you wish, I could-”

Alanra? Was that subtle enough? Probably not. Merellia set her quill back to the page when a voice called from outside. It was strong and clear, belonging to Armin Bast of the Scarlet March. “INQUISITOR, GRAND CRUSADER VALORHEART HAS AWOKEN AND HAS REQUESTED YOUR PRESENCE!”

“Oh Light,” she muttered, putting a hand to her chest. She steadied her breathing and looked over to the tent flaps, where the armored man stood rigidly. “You startled me, Armin! Um… tell her I will be there momentarily!” Merellia’s eyes scanned the page for a moment, and she sighed wistfully. She would have to write of Merciella and Alanra when she returned.

She rose and pulled her white cloak about her form, exiting the tent and nearly bumping right into Bast. “GREETINGS, MILADY!”

“Hello, Armin. Take me to Lady Valorheart. I will attend to her. However, I must ask that you keep an eye on my tent-”

“I SHALL KEEP THIS TENT UNDER MY PROTECTION, AND NONE SHALL ENTER IT. I WILL GUARD IT WITH MY VERY LIFE.”

Merellia just gave him a simple nod and a somewhat forced smile. Hopefully he would not be too curious- she might die of embarrassment if anybody were to have read her writing. She sighed wistfully looked back at the tent as they headed over to the Grand Crusader’s tent. She just wanted to get back to her writing.

-------------------------

She had put Valorheart back to sleep with an tea and a blessing for healthy sleep, ensuring she’d have her evening quiet and free to write. She’d been going for hours, now, filling page after page with her writings. ...Merciella was in her regular garb today, eschewing the robes she’d been wearing for the past few days. It was warmer, and if her other uniform allowed her to get away without wearing pants, then she saw no reason to torment herself. Her tabard flapped in the light breeze, which was warm against her exposed thighs and arms. Today was a nice day, and the priestess tended to her small herb garden outside the chapel. Her staff leaned against a nearby post. Nearby, though she did not know it, the eyes of Lady Alanra roamed over her form, basking in every inch of it. Perhaps it might have been a sin, how long her eyes lingered over Merellia’s- Merellia immediately crossed through her own name, muttering half of a curse, and then scribbled over it once again to be safe. She’d gotten herself so lost in the story she’d written her own name in place of Merciella. She set her quill down, pushing the stopper back into her ink. Perhaps it was best to- “INQUISITOR! M-MERELLIA.” A shout came from outside her tent, interrupting her thoughts.. It was a familiar voice- the gilnean boy, Loraeus. His voice shook as he yelled for her, and her eyes flicked to the entrance of her tent. Light, this was the worst time. She just wanted to finish the story. The inquisitor rose from her seat, and promptly tripped over the pile of romance novels she’d been reading for reference. “Ow! J- just a moment, Loraeus!” She winced as she slipped on her thin sandals, and hastily turned over the brand-new cover of The Shieldmaiden’s Wife so that it couldn’t be recognized. After a moment, her hands grasped the tent flaps, and she poked her head out. “Now, how can I-...” She stopped halfway through his name, and blinked a few times, taking note of his bloodied garb. Light, not now. Even still, she was bound to help him, and he looked awful. Merellia sighed and pulled the trembling, bloodied boy in by the scruff of his too-big robes. She’d have to write later.

---------------------------------

Later that night, Merellia spoke her nightly prayers, and began to crawl into her cot. She’d had an exhausting day, from Bast and Valorheart to Loraeus, and her once-quiet evening was virtually nonexistent.

As she laid her head down, staring at the small lantern on her desk, an idea struck her. Immediately, she leapt up from bed and moved to her writing desk, taking a seat. The inquisitor smiled to herself, stretching and dipping her quill in ink once again. It was time to begin the climax of the story.

...Gravel crunched underfoot as Merciellia approached the a small gazebo, hidden away by the woods. Her hand retrieved a folded note she’d received this morning, from a hidden pocket sewn into her garments. In elegant, thin strokes, Sandria had offered them a moment alone.

Priestess, I would very much desire to meet with you this afternoon, and perhaps talk, even. However- I fear that the high abbot may disapprove of it, and I do not wish for you to risk his displeasure. We must meet in secret...

Merellia felt her face grow warm- blushing at her own writing. A secret meeting. How very romantic. Sweet, even. She put a hand to her chest and sighted before she slipped into the story, mentally exchanging Merciella for herself.

We must meet in secret, in the woods. There is a very pretty stone gazebo, by the stream in the western wood. We should not be disturbed there. I hope to gaze upon your beauty there, in the setting sun. -A

The A was perfectly shaped, the lines thin and elegant- proper handwriting befitting of Alanra. Merciella had, of course, read the note immediately, offering a small nod to the knight as she passed her in the corridor. “I will be there, my lady,” she whispered. Before sunset, Merciella had snuck out, taking a walking staff and pulling her cloak’s hood over her head to hide her identity. A short trudge through the woods, and she found herself there.

She leaned against the stone of the structure, and it would not be long before a horse and rider appeared. It was Sandria. Merciella felt butterflies in her stomach.

“We do not have long, priestess. I left under the pretense of taking my steed riding before the cloak of night covers the land. We are alone, I take it?”

Merciella nodded. “We are, Lady Sandria. If I may ask, what is it that you wished me here for?”

“I think you know that answer as well as I, Merciella. I have caught your eyes wandering many times.”

“And I yours, Lady. It-... it is no sin for me to... admire beauty, I think.”

It was Sandria’s turn to blush. Despite it, she stepped closer, her partially-armored form pressing against Merciella for the first time. A shiver ran through the priestess, but she clutched needily at Sandria, as if she was about to be pulled away by a current. The knight’s face descended towards the priestess’ slowly, and their lips met-

Merellia stopped her writing as she blushed furiously, again. At her own writing, no less. She put a hand to her warm cheeks and reread the final few lines. A few moments later, she realized that she heard the clattering of armor, and with a “quiet” whisper, she heard the voice of Armin Bast once again.

“Inquisitor! I have need of you! It is urgent. I require a blessing to ward off evil before I surrender myself to the vulnerability of sleep!"

Merellia let out a sigh and worked to stow her writing away. She’d finish this story one day.

[seashellrosekitty]

Shielded | Derek Hale x Reader (Part 1)

Pairing: Derek Hale x Female Reader

Plot: You’re driving to Beacon Hills to help Deaton with something. You meet Derek Hale, who is deeply wounded and is paralyzed.

Word Count: 3,697 (14-minute read)

Warnings: This story will eventually lead to having smut scenes, profanity, and even gory details in the next chapters.

A/N: Welcome to my first Imagine! This isn’t requested and is purely inspired by other imagines here on Tumblr. Enjoy! :)

***

“Why do I have to move to Beacon Hills?” You think to yourself.  You were already happy with your life in Frisco. Oh right, there’s a mystery you need to solve. Not that you are a detective of some sort. You’re a full-blown empath.  And this is why you’re driving to Beacon Hills alone. This is the reason for many things in your life, in fact. Why you’re single, why you prefer so much space and time away from people, why you don’t really like to touch other people and why you’re so careful about making physical contact with formerly owned objects.

As you drive a straight road, you think about these things, reflecting once more, why did you take this job? You are good friends with Dr. Deaton, being involved in similar experiences sometime in the past. He called you for a pressing, ‘empath’ job. And unfortunately, you’ll need to do this more than once, probably. You have a love/hate relationship with your profession. It is your natural ability to understand and empathize with others. The difference you have with werewolves and their heightened senses is that you need to be close to your subject of interest. You now arrive in Deaton’s clinic, expecting him to be there, as he always is. You knock on the front door.

“Doc? You here? It’s me, (Y/N).” You call out. You hear footsteps coming from inside the clinic as you wait by the desk.  For an animal clinic, there are much fewer animals, you think to yourself.

“Ah, (Y/N), thank you for coming. I didn’t know who else to call,” Deaton shakes your hand and gives you a hug as a gesture of seeing you after a long time.

“Don’t worry about it. How have you been?” You say as you naturally express concern for your old friend.

“I’m perfectly fine. I’m glad you’re here. And you came just in time too. I have someone here I need you to look at. He was paralyzed by some creature we haven’t identified yet,” Deaton says and leads you inside the clinic. As you walk in, you could already feel countless terrors coming from the walls of the room. There, you find an unconscious man laying down the metal table.

“This is Derek Hale. He’s a werewolf,” Deaton tells you.  You nod at him but don’t respond.  You look at the patient and observe him. You don’t come near him just yet. You notice how he’s breathing normally for someone who’s hurt and paralyzed. Derek Hale’s torso is bandaged and his wounds are all over his body. It’s not easy to tell how he got hurt. Your stomach is about to turn upside down when you smell the stench coming from his wounds.

“Are you sure he wasn’t in some form of trauma or accident that led him to paralysis? Maybe he should be in the hospital,” You say to Deaton, and he shakes his head.

“I found him here before he collapsed and then paralyzed. I didn’t even know that was possible. He clearly wanted to be treated here. It must be some kind of creature Beacon Hills hasn’t heard of yet.” You look at him in disbelief, remembering how Beacon Hills is more supernatural than most towns. “Notice these claw marks on his ribs. There’s nothing like it.” Deaton tells you as much as he knows, leaving you to the reason why he called you in the first place.

Now you decide to come close to the table. You look at the man’s wounds, the giant claw marks, but still hesitate to touch them.  You observe his breathing again and definitely trying to ignore the good physique this werewolf has. Do they magically grow washboard abs after being bitten? Like Spider-Man? You think to yourself but snap out of it. This is the reality.

You approach his right side, and you slowly touch his right hand with yours, as if you were introducing yourself to him. His hand is not as warm as you expect it to be, but you start to see how much this man has gone through by the roughness of his palm. As you brace yourself for what you’re about to see and feel, you take a deep breath and slowly close your eyes.

Your visions come in swift images. A dark, hostile figure coming to attack the man as you see it in his perspective. You could feel his defensive state he was in before he was hurt, but he was scared too. You feel sudden changes of emotions coming from him and most are repressed ones. The last he had was fear. Unfortunately, you couldn’t see what he was afraid of before being paralyzed. You’re certain it wasn’t his death he was afraid of.

“I couldn’t make out the creature that attacked him. He was attacked last night. It was dark, he was in the woods. And this creature was…well, a monster. Definitely hostile, and out of control,” You say to Deaton with your eyes closed, still trying to find memories from this unconscious werewolf. You realize Deaton may have already assumed everything you’ve said. It’s easy to theorize what you just envisioned.  Deaton doesn’t say anything so he doesn’t interrupt your trance. As you try to keep looking inside Derek’s head, you decide to hold his forehead in the hopes of seeing more. But you get distracted from the noise in the background – what seems to you would be the worried pack that this werewolf is a member of.

“We came as soon as we got your call,” You hear someone say this behind you but Deaton shushes him. You could now feel all the new energies emanating from the room. They were probably three, or four people not including Deaton watching what you’re doing.

“What’s going on?” A woman’s whisper distracts you again as your hearing from the physical world is always better than your hearing in the empathic state.

“Please remain silent. I’m trying to find out what happened to your friend here. I’ll explain everything later. Just, please. Do relax too. I could feel the tension from here,” You say as you turn your head to face your right, showing these people that you are talking to them and that you mean business.

You still see the same sight of the dark creature when you keep your left hand on his head, so you decide to move your left hand to his chest, hoping it would show you more than what you’ve already seen. Your right hand remains in his so that your empathic contact doesn’t break. No images come into your head. But a surge of energy is starting to build on your palms. Your nerves are trembling now. You know you’re either about to see or feel something in a matter of seconds. You feel restless, scared, and tired. And because you’re an emotional being, all of this makes you want to cry. You keep your tears until you couldn’t, and tears start falling from your closed eyes. This combination of emotions is coming from this werewolf, and you’re fighting hard to contain it. You feel all of Derek’s emotions too strongly that you no longer feel the presence of the people behind you. You’re still aware that they’re there, but they don’t disrupt this moment for you.

No more images come into your mind, and you decide to break contact to keep what’s left of your energy for the rest of the day. You take another deep breath before removing your hands from the werewolf’s hand and chest. You take a moment to make sense of the physical world. This is how you ground yourself every time after a trance.

Since you are familiar with the clinic, you head to the sink and wash your hands. You do this to cleanse yourself of Derek’s energy. Finally, you wipe your tears and take a couple more breaths. You hear indistinct conversations from the group and you know they have so many questions.  But you take your time. After wiping your wet hands, you turn over to them and walk silently towards them. There are four teenagers, you confirm. Two boys and two girls.

“Guys, this is Y/F/N, Y/L/N. She’s an old friend of mine. I called her to help us figure out the creature that attacked Derek. Y/N, meet the pack. Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent, and Lydia Martin.” You shake hands with each of them.

“Are all of your werewolves too?” You ask them.

“Scott’s the only one,” Stiles answers you as he puts his arm around Scott. You nod and think about what to say next.

“So what exactly were you doing there? How’s Derek doing?” Scott asks you.  You turn back to look at Derek again and remember what you saw.

“He’s gonna be fine. Actually, he could use your emotional support right now,” You answer him monotonously.

“Yeah, like he would ever admit that,” Stiles says with a chuckle. The two girls agree with him but you notice they want a better answer from you.

“Well, I was trying to see his latest memories before he passed out and got paralyzed. I need to hold his hand to be able to do that. And all I saw was this dark creature. Hostile and out of control. He’s a serious threat to your friend. And to all of you.” You tell them, and the room is now in a serious atmosphere. “I've brought some of my stuff that could help him heal from paralysis. I’m quite sure this is just temporary paralysis just like that from a Kanima’s attack. Only this one gives him nightmares,” You say to all of them and head to your car to get your bag.

“What is she? Why can she see memories?” The group’s questions bombard Deaton as you leave the room. Deaton tells them what you are. As far as you’re concerned, you’re just a human being, and being able to do these things doesn’t make you any different than those who couldn’t. Except for space you need from people every now and then. As you go back inside the clinic, the atmosphere somewhat changed and yet you still feel awkward with these worried teenagers and what you notice as hyped energy. Or as most people call it, raging hormones.

“It’s hard to see it from it from the outside, but whenever his nerves are twitching, that’s the time his nightmares feel real. And I think that has something to do with his paralysis,” You say to them, and you bring out a small bottle of oil from your bag and open to let Derek smell some of it. Its scent is strong enough to be smelt by werewolves and give quite a lasting effect.  Afterward, you put a pea-sized amount of the oil on your palm and spread it on both your palms. You put some oil on Derek’s palms, the center of his forehead, and the rest of it in the center of his chest. You start to state a prayer with your breath, making the words inaudible to the group. You close your eyes as you do this and start massaging Derek on the areas where you put the oil.

“Is she a masseuse too? Maybe I could go next ‘cause I feel sore from all the running – “ Stiles says and gets smacked on the shoulder by Scott, easily gaining the group’s annoyance. Slowly rubbing the oil on the center of his head, you use your thumb to make a final upward motion that makes Derek’s body jerk in shock. It surprises everyone except you.

“Whoa, what the hell was that?” The group asks you.

“I’m trying to snap him from his nightmares. And soon, from his paralysis too, I hope,” You answer, and turn to Deaton. “May I ask for some water, please?” Deaton immediately rushes to get you a glass of water. You grab the glass as Deaton comes back with it and drink from it right away.

“Dude, she’s weird,” Stiles says to Scott. Scott smacks Stiles again and says “Shut up,” but smiles amusingly at him.

“Does this procedure make her thirsty?” Allison asks.

“All the time,” Deaton answers. “What she’s doing right now is giving some healing energy to Derek. The way I see it, Derek’s werewolf couldn’t heal from the paralysis. It’s probably why he fell unconscious first before being paralyzed. His werewolf being his alter ego, is also the last one to be affected by the attack.”

Suddenly, Derek’s body jerks rapidly more than once, disturbing the calm in the room. The group rushes to the table to hold Derek down but you warn them not to.

“His physical reaction to the procedure is a good sign. I think he’s healing from the inside out.” You repeat the procedure and continue emanating energy from inside you and transfer it to him. After a few more upward strokes of your thumb on his forehead, Derek’s finally able to regain consciousness and almost turns into his werewolf self, obviously being on defense mode. You take a few steps back away in panic as his friends hold him down to keep him from turning.  

“Derek! It’s us! You’re safe! It’s all right!” Scott exclaims. You look at his searing red eyes and it startles you since you’ve never met an Alpha before. He roars loudly and it sends your heart jumping in fright. When his panicked look meets yours, his eyes turn back to his normal color -  green, and he calms down. His look changes from being defensive to almost in doubt that he is where he is. You leave his friends to explain to him what happened, and what you were doing to him.  

Meanwhile, you’re not sure if you should wash your hands again but you find yourself doing it anyway – anything to keep yourself busy and away from the potentially hostile patient. Deaton introduces you to Derek as you finish washing your hands and wiping them, only to touch Derek’s again for a handshake.

“Thanks for saving my life,” Derek says to you as he hangs his legs from the metal table. You shake your head. “I didn’t. Deaton did,” You say as you glance at Deaton.

“Well, it certainly felt like I was dying. Over and over.” Derek looks down and runs both hands across his head.

“I think what I did was snap you out of your nightmares. Did that cause your paralysis?” You ask him.

“How did you know I was having nightmares?” Derek asks you while he looks at his bruises and wounds.

“She’s psychic,” Stiles interrupts. Derek looks at him irritatingly, still waiting for your answer. For some reason, the rest of the group doesn’t bother to tell him themselves. “Seriously. We live in a world where werewolves and Kanimas exist but you all are skeptical about psychics?” All of you look at Stiles to shut him up.

“I’m an empath. I assume you know what that is?” You turn to Derek.

“Never heard of it. But coming from the word empath, I think I know what you do,” Derek replies. “Does anyone have a clean shirt around here?” You raise your eyebrows in agreement to the question. He should’ve had his shirt on the whole time, you think. You notice that this may happen frequently because the pack did bring extra clothes for Derek. All but a first aid kit.

“Do you still remember what attacked you? What happened?” Scott starts asking the vital questions.

“I don’t know – I…” Derek pinches the skin between his eyes. “It looked like a Kanima, I guess, but it sounded like a wolf. I don’t even know what he did to put me in paralysis.” You quietly listen as Derek says this to the pack. The rest of the pack waits for him to finish recollecting his memories from the attack.

“It’s easy to assume that the creature’s very claws could paralyze the nerves. I don’t know about the nightmares, though.” Deaton adds.

“What were you doing before you were attacked?” You ask him, not moving an inch from where you stand – a good distance from the pack.

“Didn’t you sense the creature before you were attacked?” Scott adds, hinting a tone of worry. Derek gathers himself more but finds it difficult to.

“I sensed him. But it came out of nowhere.”

“I felt that –“ everyone suddenly turn their heads to look at you, and you feel as though you were interrupting Derek. But you continue. “The creature was out of control. Did you feel this too?” You ask him with genuine interest.

“I think it was. Why?”

“It could be a new breed,” Scott suggests.

“It could be a hybrid,” Stiles adds.

“It could be anything,” Lydia responds.

“Or it could be an experiment,” Deaton suggests, and you look at him, confirming that you thought of the same thing.

“An experiment went wrong,” Allison concludes.

“I think we should look it up,” Derek says to wrap up the discussion, and slowly gets down from the metal table.

“Derek, I suggest you take more rest. Take Y/N with you. Let her look after you. Especially with those nightmares,” Deaton says to Derek. Derek doesn’t reply but looks at you and nods. You do the same.

“You can ride in my car if you want a quiet trip home,” You offer him a tiny smile, thinking that Derek might not like riding with his pack carrying a vulnerable mind and possibly, heightened senses. This suggestion makes Derek smile and he just nods at you in agreement.

You proceed to your car while Scott helps Derek walk towards it. Scott goes to the blue Jeep parked beside your car once he closed the door for Derek.  You all agree to drive as a convoy.  The pack leads you to Derek’s loft. You turn on the radio in a low volume and play your Spotify. You just want to make sure your head stays clear and not be distracted by what could be another episode of Derek’s nightmares. As you arrive at the loft, you wake Derek up as softly as you could.

“Mr. Hale, you can wake up now. We’re at your place.” Derek opens up his eyes and finds the outdoors too bright even when the weather is gloomy. You reach for your baseball cap on the back seat and lend it to him without hesitation. “Here.” You put on the cap on his head gently to relieve him from the eyesore.

“Thanks,” Derek says in a grunting voice, trying to find his strength to sit up straight. “Y/N, right?” You then answer a low “Yeah.”

“Please call me Derek.” This makes you smile a little, noting that he noticed you being so formal with him earlier. Maybe he wasn’t really sleeping after all.

“Sure. Can you stand up and walk, Derek?”

“Why can’t I smell anything from this cap?” Derek ignores your question. You notice he does this a lot.

“Um, maybe because I’ve never used it before. I just got it on my way to town. Don’t ask how. Now come on, I’ll call your friends to help you walk up.” You didn’t have to, though, because Scott and Stiles come rushing towards Derek’s side of the car. They open the door for him and help him all the way to his loft. The girls, Allison and Lydia offer to help you get your stuff, but you politely decline, telling them you’ll only bring up your stuff when Derek agrees to you staying with him for a while. Formality is kind of your thing with strangers.

As you reach the loft, you look around to find a spot in the room you’d be most comfortable to sit…or stand. The loft is almost empty of furniture.

“Make yourself at home, Y/N. You can sit wherever you want,” Stiles offers as if the loft was his. You hear Derek grunt at Stiles in irritation. This makes you smile and say, “Thanks, Stiles. I think I’ll actually wait for Derek to feel comfortable with me being here before I could do that,” You say, not really knowing why you just did. Derek and Stiles look at each other in confusion.

Allison comes to your rescue and asks you to sit beside her on the couch.

“So Y/N, what kind of oil was that that you used to wake Derek up?” Allison asks. This makes Derek look at you in anticipation for an answer.

“Nothing special. It’s made of Californian poppies. It should help relax the nervous system,” You answer Allison.

“But Derek snapped out of paralysis. How is that relaxing his nervous system?” Scott asks you. Derek remains quiet in this conversation, but you could tell that he wants to ask you these questions himself.

“Well, the oil helped relax his nerves.” You feel like you just repeated what you said. “If you’ve held his arms a while ago, you would’ve felt his nerves were kind of like frozen. And his brain, despite its activity, almost felt like it was dead. It’s hard to explain it. But the oil helped his physical body. And…the prayer I kept saying until he woke up was what boosted the effect of the oil. As for the force that actually woke him up, it was a surge of energy coming from me,” You explain, and this makes the room quiet, all eyes on you. You exhale sharply. “Somebody please say something,” You say, and you could almost feel like you’re losing your voice.

“Huh,” Lydia sighs contemplatively. “I thought you said you were an Empath. It looks like that’s not all you are.”

“I come from a family of healers. You should see by now how Deaton and I must know each other. And please don’t ask why I didn’t become a vet like Deaton because he and I heal mystical beings differently.”

“Interesting,” Lydia says and breaks her stare from you.

“Now that we’re all up to speed, could you all let me heal in peace?” Derek changes the subject. The pack agrees to this and tries to leave quietly except for Stiles, of course. They wave you goodbye before heading out.

*End of Part 1*

Hope you guys liked it because I had so much fun writing this! Please leave some comments because I’d love to know what y’all think! xx

Read Part 2

Much thanks to @spxderbarnes for the inspiration :)

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Title:  Undercover Emotions Chapter 2 Pairing:  Promptio, Highspecs Rating: E Word Count:  4,204 Read on Ao3 Summary: Rookie cop Prompto Argentum gets sent undercover with veteran Aranea Highwind in hopes of taking down the Caelums, longtime leaders of organized crime in Insomnia. After being assigned to assist Gladiolus Amicitia and Ignis Scientia, the pair dive deeper into the criminal underworld and find themselves caught up in a variety of shady dealings. However, when Prompto starts to learn who Gladiolus really is, his loyalties begin to shift in a direction he never expected.

In this chapter, Prompto and Aranea start their new jobs.

Full fic under the cut! thanks to @its-love-u-asshole for betaing this!

Glancing around the office, Ignis pressed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. He'd done a nice job tidying up the place for now. He had no idea what this Nea dame would be like, but he sure as hell didn't want to make a poor impression on her.

He was in desperate need of an assistant, and if she was good, losing her would be extremely detrimental. With his uncle in the hospital, most of the Winter Gala duties had fallen upon him, on top of his normal work, and Ignis already felt overwhelmed. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't rely on Gladio as much as he wanted, and since this was to be Noctis' first year running the Gala, he didn't wish to leave any room for mistakes.

So, needless to say, he'd made sure to keep his office completely spotless. Nea was a young, classy looking woman, and the last thing Ignis wanted to do was greet her with a mess.

Hopefully, she would repay his preemptive cleaning by being on time.

There was a gentle rap on the door, and Ignis immediately stood up, smoothing out his suit with his hands. Admittedly, this was the first time he'd had an assistant, though his uncle had offered the option to him many times. Unlike Gladio, Ignis had never thought he needed one until now.

Opening the door, he wasn't surprised to find Nea Biggs standing on the other side. Her long gray hair framed her sharp face, her features highlighted by the angle of her bangs, though currently part of her face was covered by the black hat she had draped over her head. She had defined cheekbones and a pointed nose. Her black dress was high collared, but draped around her hips nicely. It was impossible to ignore how beautiful she was. Thank goodness Ignis had chosen to have her as his assistant instead of Gladio.

"Good morning, you must be Ms. Biggs?" Ignis said, bowing his head to her. "Do come in, I would hate to leave you out in the cold." He turned away from the door, allowing her to step inside.

"Well, well, well," she smirked, "I didn't expect Ignis Scientia to be such a gentleman."

"Really?" He blinked, stepping behind her to help her remove her coat and take her hat which she held out to him. "Is it because of the nature of my job?" he chuckled, hanging her coat off to the side.

"It's not everyday a girl gets asked to be an assistant to a mafia executive," she said, walking towards his desk as she took a seat in the chair directly across from it.

"So you are aware of what this job could entail?" Ignis asked, slipping into his own chair.

"I did my research," she grinned, leaning towards him.

"There's no need for you to worry at all," Ignis began. "I will ensure your safety, plus I will not be having you involved with anything... risky. Mostly I'll be needing you to help me with the Winter Gala event. Are you familiar with this at all? I'm not sure what your hiring agent told you."

"He gave me your name, and I looked you up. It took a little digging but I figured out who the Scientia family was and once I knew that, I could make my assumptions," she said. Crossing one leg over the other, she smirked at him once more. Her smile was incredibly alluring, and Ignis wondered how many men she'd captured with such a devilish grin. "But you know, I can handle myself pretty well," she said.

"Oh I'm certain you can. The man we speak to about hiring always gives me the best people. Usually."

"Usually?" An eyebrow raised, looking for more information.

"Well, let's just say it's for the best you are my assistant instead of Gladiolus'," he explained.

A soft laugh left her lips. "Alright then." There was no need to elaborate any further. She cleared her throat, her deep eyes darting around his office. "Anyway," she began. "I don't know anything about this Winter Gala, care to elaborate?"

Ignis narrowed his eyes for a moment. He trusted the people who found him the hires he needed usually, but that didn't mean he should jump into trusting this woman. "There's no need to. I'll have you ordering supplies, decorations, etc. Very straightforward work; a woman with as much secretarial experience as you will need no help."

"'Course not." Her voice was dripping with confidence, and relief washed over Ignis.

He sighed, sitting back in his chair, adjusting his glasses again. "Forgive me," he said. "It has been a rather stressful week, and I'm happy you seem to be as competent as your resume made you out to be."

Confusion crossed her eyes for a moment, but her features softened. "I'm your assistant," she said. "I'm here to help."

"Thank goodness. This is going to be a year of firsts and for my plan to work, I need everything to go smoothly," he explained, but didn't go into further detail. Standing, he crossed to the other side of the room where he'd set up a small desk and placed a large stack of folders on it. "Here. This will be your center of operations," he chuckled.

"Wow," she smirked, walking over to the small area. "I get my own desk."

"Indeed. Here you can focus on sorting through the various tasks. I've organized everything into folders and placed them in the order of how urgent each task is. If you have any questions you are always welcome to ask," he explained, pulling the chair out for a her.

She blinked, and took a seat, looking a little shocked, and Ignis wondered if perhaps he was coming on too strong.

"I apologize," he continued, "I hope this isn't too much. I didn't wish to overwhelm you on the first day."

"No," she shook her head quickly. "Admittedly, I didn't expect you to be so organized."

Ignis chuckled. "Again, you should be thankful you're my assistant and not Gladio's."

"I guess so," she smirked. "I should meet this Gladio sometime, though my opinion is pretty low right now."

"I promise Gladio is a wonderful person, just... we are very different people."

"I'm sure," she hummed skeptically. "I guess I should get to work then," she said, gesturing to the tall pile of folders.

"Ah yes," he nodded, moving back to his own space. "Don't hesitate if you have questions you would like to ask." He rubbed his hands together awkwardly. He felt his cheeks heat up a bit when he glanced over at her working, she really was a beautiful woman, but neither of them had time to focus on that. She was surprisingly efficient, and didn't ask too many questions; she was ideal, and Ignis wouldn't do anything to ruin that.

~~

Prompto pursed his lips standing outside of the office door of Gladiolus Amicitia. The building had been in a darker part of town, over by old warehouses near the harbor. Prompto could only assume they owned the warehouses and used them for shipping... well, whatever sort of supplies the mafia needed.

The doors in the building were marked only by numbers, smart, since he doubted they'd want any ties to the place if they were ever caught. But the number on the door matched the number he'd been given so presumably Gladiolus Amicitia would be on the other side of this door.

Prompto swallowed and rocked back and forth on his feet. The moment he knocked, he would be taking on the grand role of 'Prom', mafia assistant extraordinaire! Reaching his hand up, he tapped on the door, and his eyes widened when he saw the large shadow appear on the other side. He'd heard Gladiolus was a larger man, but he hadn't expected his shadow to loom so greatly.

And when he yanked the door open, Prompto's eyes widened even more, if it was even possible. The man in front of him was broad shouldered, muscular, and tall; the exact opposite of Prompto.

"Heh," he said, scoffing a bit. "You're even tinier in person!" he laughed heartily, and Prompto could only bring himself to laugh along with him, though he couldn't mask the hint of nerves which trembled in his voice. "Come in, come in," he said, waving his arm as he stepped back into the office.

"Uh, you're Gladiolus Amicitia, right?" Prompto asked, stepping in as he shut the door behind him. This was it; he was undercover.

"Yup! But look, only my father calls me Gladiolus. It's Gladio."

"Gladio," he nodded. "Okay." He was oddly chipper for a mafia exec... or well, a mafia exec-in-training. Maybe that was why. Prompto could assume he wasn't in charge of anything all that serious yet.

"And you're Prom Argent, my new assistant," Gladio said, folding his arms as he leaned against his desk. "Hm..." he mumbled, glancing around the room. Books were piled high on various surfaces, bookshelves lining the office. A coat rack leaned against one of the only bare walls, and papers were strewn about over Gladio's desk. "I guess we can move some of these books," he said, hoisting a stack off of a small desk in the corner. "You know, Iggy hired you, and I'm not really sure what I can even have ya' do yet," he snorted.

Panic coursed through Prompto's veins. If Gladio didn't have a use for him, maybe he'd toss Prompto immediately. If Prompto got fired right away, he'd be off the case and that would be the end of his police career.

Swallowing, Prompto glanced around the office, trying to think. He was no stranger to disorganization but Gladio certainly took things to brand new heights. "What if I... started organizing your office!" Prompto suggested cheerily. It was perfect! It would keep him busy, and if Gladio wasn't paying attention, he could snoop through various files and papers he found.

"Hm," Gladio hummed. "S'not a bad idea. Iggy would love ya' for it. He's constantly yellin' at me to clean this place up."

Prompto gave him a thumbs up. "Never fear, I'll clean up this mess!"

"Great," Gladio smiled, taking a seat back down at his desk. "Iggy's all worried ya' know. It's his and Noctis' first time bein' in charge of something as big as the Winter Gala and Iggy is takin' all the stress on himself." Gladio sighed, rubbing his forehead. The man looked genuinely worried, much to Prompto's surprise.

He supposed it was stupid to assume Gladio wasn't a regular human being, but Prompto had imagined him as a... monster. The picture he had seen had showed him as a large, looming man with a muscular build, scars littering his face and who knew where else... he wasn't exactly the portrait of 'friendly'.

"S'why he wanted to hire you and his dame Nea, I think. He really needs the support, and I hope we can give it to him. We're gonna be a team in this," he nodded. "Sorry," he shrugged. "You don't know these people... you're new so... shouldn't even be tellin' ya this stuff."

And yet, Gladio seemed so caring... worried about his friend... Plus, he was far more handsome than the picture had let on as well. Even with his intense eyes, Prompto found himself blushing looking at the man. Though, sitting behind his desk, Gladio looked a little stressed.

"Hey, uh, I'm your assistant, right?" Prompto chuckled, picking up a stack of books on the floor to carry them to a shelf. "I can do whatever you want me to, even if you wanna vent or whatever!"

"Heh," he smirked. "Thanks Prom. You're good, even if you are scrawny as shit," he teased.

"H-Hey!" Prompto snapped. Okay, he wasn't super muscular or tall like Gladio, but he could hold his own in a fight. Hell, he'd survived the training at the police academy! He couldn't just blurt out that information though. "I'm strong!"

"'Kay," Gladio snorted. "I'll take you on my next job and see how well you can handle it."

"R-Really?" Prompto asked, trying not to sound too eager. That had certainly been a lot easier than he had anticipated.

"Why the hell not?" Gladio shrugged, watching as Prompto began to re-adjust the books on the shelves. "You're my assistant, you're supposed to help me with shit, right?"

Prompto was starting to have the distinct feeling Gladio wasn't actually in charge of much. It was probably this 'Iggy' guy who held everything together. "True," he nodded, tilting the books upright. "You... read a lot?" he asked, pointing to the books.

"Try to. When I have free time," he shrugged. "I've read about half of these, probably."

"Half?!" Prompto exclaimed.

"Yeah," Gladio chuckled. "I guess a guy like me doesn't look like he'd read much. But I dunno, it's somethin' I've always liked."

"Hey man, no judgment from me," Prompto shrugged. Though it was odd, but only because so far, Gladio hadn't been anything like what Prompto had expected. He wasn't sure how this was going to go, but he oddly found himself looking at Gladio with softer eyes than expected.

~~

"Iggy! C'mon Iggy, I'm starvin'!" Gladio called, pounding on the door. It was later than Gladio had wanted to leave for the day, but Ignis had absolutely insisted upon needing more time. Gladio had rolled his eyes and agreed, if only to alleviate his friend of some of the stress.

Opening the door, Ignis looked more than perturbed. "You do realize there is a lady in my office now," he growled.

"And you realize you've kept my stomach waiting for an extra hour, right?" he said, and peered into Ignis' office. The woman sitting at the desk, Nea Biggs, was absolutely stunning, just as Gladio had suspected she would be. "Hello ma'am," he grinned and took her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "I'm Gladiolus Amicitia, and please let me know if you need anything. Iggy here can be a little uptight, so if you-"

"Gladiolus," Ignis hissed. "Ms. Biggs is my assistant for a reason." He rolled his eyes. "And speaking of, you are free to go," he nodded, pulling her jacket from the coat hanger.

"Wow already putting her to work, Iggy, damn."

Pulling her hand from Gladio's, the woman stood up and took her jacket from Ignis, wrapping it around her shoulders. "Thanks Specs," she winked. "See ya' tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Ms. Biggs," Ignis bowed, watching her leave.

Slamming his hand onto Ignis' back, Gladio began to laugh once she was out of earshot. "Damn Iggy! Keeping all the goods to yourself. Please tell me you're at least gonna kiss that broad."

"Gladiolus!" he scoffed, grabbing his own hat and jacket. "She is my assistant and I want her to focus on her job, not me," he sighed.

"Your loss. Ya' know Iggy, stress relief is good for ya'," he chuckled, stepping out the door. He really was starving, and he'd promised Ignis he wouldn't go out to eat without him. According to him they had much to discuss.

"Gladio, Nea is very efficient. She does her job and that is all I need from her. The same should go for you and your assistant. That is their job."

"I dunno," Gladio shrugged. "This little blond you sent me is pretty cute," he smirked, pulling a cigarette from his pocket.

Ignis sighed. "I do hope you're making a gag."

"Not really," Gladio chuckled, lighting the cigarette as he puffed a long breath of smoke into the air. "He's real, uh, eager... it's pretty cute. Though he's a little too innocent," he snorted. "I'll just go for yours."

"No you will not. Please let Nea do her job," Ignis sighed, "and you really should let Prom do his as well."

"Iggy, calm down," Gladio said. "I'm just tryin' to have fun with ya'." He took another long drag on his cigarette. "Now pick somewhere to eat so I can actually get some grub, okay?"

Ignis sighed. "I apologize Gladio... there is much on my mind."

"Look," Gladio began, gently touching Ignis' shoulder. "I get it, okay? That's why I was tryin' to loosen ya' up. You've been on edge cause of your uncle and these new assistants... I get it. But it seems like they're gonna do a good job, and you've got everything under control. So stop making me lecture ya' and pick a restaurant. My treat."

"Gladio you don't-"

"I want to. You're driving me crazy, and you deserve a little somethin'."

"Alright, alright, let's go to Kenny's," Ignis said.

"Kenny's? Really?" Gladio blinked. "But that's my favorite place..."

"Yes, and I kept you waiting so it's only fair you eat what I know you love."

"Fine, fine," Gladio sighed, chuckling. "You know I'm not going to argue with Kenny's."

"Of course not," he said, buttoning up his jacket as he placed his hat atop his head. "Gladio, do you really... think you might have relations with your assistant?" he asked. "I never realized you were interested in men."

"Eh, never really cared one way or the other. I just kept getting surrounded by beautiful women," he chuckled. "But uh, that Prom kid is pretty adorable. I wasn't expecting to like him so much, ya' know," Gladio shrugged. "It's only day one Ig, I was mostly kidding, but we sure do get along better than I thought."

"That is certainly a good thing," he nods.

"But Iggy, are you really thinking you would never... with your assistant?" he asked. "Nea is... gorgeous." Ignis' face immediately turned bright red and Gladio elbowed him in the side gently. "Eh... eh! See! You do think she's somethin'!"

"Gladio," he scoffed, adjusting his glasses. "I'm not blind. I can see the woman is quite stunning yes, but that does not mean I wish to tarnish the working relationship we have just started to build. It is only the first day."

"Exactly!" Gladio teased. "You never know what might happen."

"It's... it's not proper..."

"Look Iggy, I just want you to have a nice time for once. I mean... don't you eventually... wanna do all that?" Gladio asked, snuffing out his cigarette against the pavement.

"Do all what?"

"Fall in love, have a family? I mean.. someone has got to continue the Scientia line, right?"

"You're not wrong. I just... have so many other things I need to focus on right now, Gladio," he explained. "You know our plan... what lengths we'll have to go to if we wish to succeed. Love... isn't really something I have time to think about."

"Alright, alright I get it. I just think a little somethin' somethin' could loosen you up. Might make the Winter Gala more bearable," he smirked.

"You're going to have let this one go, I won't change my stance on it. For now, I must focus on changing things and pushing forward without my uncle."

"I know, I know," he said, shrugging. "It was worth a shot. Now let's walk faster. I'm dyin'." Gladio knew Ignis would respond the way he did, by now his attitude was to be expected. Gladio couldn't blame him, not when they had so many things they needed to fix about the way their families were. At least for now, they only had to worry about focusing on delicious food.

~~

Aranea was pacing, an unusual activity for her. When she started cases she had no problem finishing them, completing the task as she was told to do, but now... something about this case felt... off.

Ignis Scientia, the man she was supposed to be keeping a close eye on was... strange to say the least. He was kind, considerate, organized... a little stressed, but overall, he'd spent the majority of their time together making certain she was comfortable.

However, it was only the first day.

She could tell he was a bit wary of her, as he certainly had withheld some information, but again, they'd spent very little time together.

And yet...

Aranea couldn't shake the feeling something wasn't quite right. There had to be more to Ignis than what he was showing. He was far too nice for the world she had been painted. Even Gladiolus had given off a friendly aura... and Aranea was beginning to wonder if they had somehow stumbled into the wrong mafia. Had Cor gotten something wrong? So far, Ignis had seemed very preoccupied with the Winter Gala, whatever that was...

She needed more information.

"Aranea!" Prompto's hushed voice echoed through the small room and she immediately stopped moving. "I'm surprised you called me so fast, is everything okay?"

She'd contacted Prompto immediately upon arriving home using the code system they'd set up between them. The two rings on the telephone meant they had to meet, and Aranea had thankfully found a secure location in a small mailroom of the apartment complex a few blocks down the street.

"Yeah... I mean... I guess?" she muttered, rubbing her forehead. "Everything is too okay with Ignis Scientia."

"Too okay?" Prompto asked, cocking his head to the side.

"He's… incredibly kind. Considerate of what I'm doing... It makes no sense."

"Well... they're just people, Aranea," Prompto shrugged.

She raised her eyebrow. "Just people? What the hell you tryin' to say, kid?"

"I mean... they probably do a lot of bad things but... even bad people have their nice days, right? Unless they were super villains... everyone has got someone they care about, and the mafia is all about family and what not... so... I dunno..." Prompto tried to explain, trailing off.

"You're not wrong," she muttered, rubbing her arm with a sigh.

"I-I mean, I get it! I was really thrown off by Gladio too! He was really... nice. Real worried about Ignis... and he reads. A lot. He's... so normal, despite how he looks and I... was really surprised."

"That's what I was worried about," Aranea muttered.

"Worried?" Prompto asked, once again questioning her.

"Look kid, I've done a lot of these undercover missions, and usually the baddies are a lot more obvious about their motives. Ignis and Gladio may seem like good guys, but we can't fall for any of their tricks, got it? Deep down inside they're mafia executives and that family you mentioned? They won't hesitate to protect each other, especially Noctis," she explained. "I don't want you putting your guard down just because they seem like nice people. The same goes for me too."

"I wasn't gonna..." Prompto mumbled, twisting his lips up. He folded his arms over his chest. "It... did throw me off though."

"It threw me too. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it..." she sighed.

Prompto couldn't help but laugh. "Admittedly, I'm a little happy you're confused too," he said. "I thought I was going crazy with how nice Gladio was. I tried to just act normal, but I think he saw I was a little nervous."

"S'fine," Aranea shrugged. "It was your first day, so being nervous is normal. Just try and stay calm from here on out." She paused, and bit down on her lip. "Did Gladio give you any information on the Winter Gala?"

"Not really, just that Ignis was stressed about it."

"He certainly is..." she muttered, tapping her chin. "Our first goal should be to find out what it entails. Ignis was having me order decorations, but that didn't give me much information. Find out all you can about this event. Once we have a lead we can report back here."

"You got it!" Prompto said, saluting her.

"We can't meet here every night, but after the first day I wanted it to be clear; we can't let these men fool us," she said, her eyes glancing up and down at Prompto.

"Right," he said softly, slowly lowering his hand.

He was still a rookie, so new at these sort of missions. Ignis had thrown her off, so she wasn't surprised Gladio had done the same to Prompto. She had to keep them both on track. "Promise me Prompto, you won't let anything deter you from our mission..."

"I won't!" he frowned, looking even more determined. Good. She wanted to light a fire under his tiny little ass. "Being a cop is the most important thing to me," he explained, his bright blue eyes burning. "I love my job, and I don't want to let you, or Cor, or anyone down ever again," he said. "Besides, if I do, I'm pretty sure this is going to be my last case," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Don't worry kid," she smirked, nudging him. "I won't be letting you or me get kicked off or hurt..."

"Yeah... I know."

Stepping back from him, she pointed her finger towards his nose. "Stay on your toes, and don't screw up. 'Til next time," she smirked, waving one more time as she unlocked the door to head back to her small apartment. She only could hope Prompto would listen to her.

[cuthie]

AU Cuth: On To Bigger & Better Things

  The heat of Orgrimmar baked itself into the dark skin of a golden eyed blood elf man. Tall and muscular, even amongst his own, Cuthbert towered over the pair of Forsaken chatting away at him. The Undead were a married couple, which was funny because Cuth didn’t know Forsaken were allowed to ‘get’ married. Then again, he really didn’t know much about any races outside of his own. The pair were hunchbacked, bones showing, faded glowing yellow eyes, and the woman didn’t have a lower jaw. She had a snakelike tongue that just kept slithering in the air as she talked. How did that work? Magic. Had to be. That was something Cuth could ‘feel’ more than he could understand. It was just in his gut, had been since childhood. Elves were just born great at magic.

  Shit, what had they been saying? Honestly, it was too late to start listening now. Instead Cuth just looked at the woman's sagging chest, adorned with an Argent Crusade tabard. That’s why he had come here, wasn’t it? To ask them about their tabards. When the Blood Knights had joined the Order of the Silver Hand, they had done so alongside the Argent Crusade, the Sunwalkers, and the Hand of Something-another-Draenei. They had been a team, until the Fourth War. Then they became enemies again, except for the Argent Crusaders. Cuth really wanted to know more about them, but this girl’s boobs might fall off and splatter onto the floor at any minute. Was it gross? Yes, of course. Was it something he really wanted to see happen? Yep. Just something he could sprinkle into conversation in Silvermoon. ‘Saw an undead’s boobs fall off once.’ Heh heh.

“Are you staring at my chest?”

Cuth blinked, “Yes…”

 Ariel gave a quizzical look to the blood elf, her husband, Murrey, patting her shoulder as his breath came out in a hoarse whisper, “Ah ha. I told you, you still got it!”

  A caravan led by kodos, not alpacas, rolled along the street beside them, it’s rumbling shaking the ground at their feet. Cuth shook his head, trying to clear his mind of undead boobs, “Sorry, I- Like, you two are with the Argent Crusade, right? Like, they let in anybody, even undeads, right? Cause I was thinkin’ about joining.”

  Murrey recognized Cuthbert for what he was almost immediately. A simpleton. A soldier who was forged to take orders, and a child who wasn’t schooled in the art of logic. How did someone like that become a paladin? Eh, he had seen worse examples. “Correct, my brother.”

  Cuthbert leaned in closer, half expecting to inhale rotted guts in proximity. Nope. It was weird, the pair smelled like.. Like nothing. Just blank. Everything had a smell. Cuth reminded himself that he should share his Sandalwood perfume with them later. “I don’t think we’re related, unless the top bit of your ears fell off.”

“We are all brothers and sisters in the Light.”

“Even your girlfriend?”

Murrey looked to Ariel, “That’s my wife.”

“And your sister!”

  There was sometimes no arguing with the meatheaded Cuth. Murrey, despite needing to draw no breath in his frail undead body, sighed. “Correct. Though, I don’t imagine the Blood Knights would take kindly to the Argents pulling from their ranks.”

  Cuth scratched at the back of his head, “Uhh.. Yeah, but I already quit so.. You know. Lookin at asplorin’ new Orders. Remember when we all worked together to stop the Legion from blowing up the planet? I want more of that, less of, you know, fighting over which kingdom is best. Quel’thalas is. Everyone else can argue over second place, but no need to start a war over it. You know?”

  Ariel’s dried purple tongue began to stretch and flap around as her voice carried forward, annoyed, “That kind of attitude isn’t becoming of an aspirant of the Argent Crusade. How exactly did you leave the Blood Knight order? Would they take you back?”

  Cuth’s golden eyes rolled up as his imagination took him back to that fateful morning just last week. 

--

  One of his superior officers was at her desk, doing nerdwork or something. He had slid his plated boots across the floor, scooting backwards as he strummed his lute. “I quit. I don’t like fighting other paladins. This whole last war was kodo shite, so I’m outtie 5000 baby.”

  Jessandra had gritted her teeth in reply, a growl escaping in a waft of hot angry breath. She had always hated Cuthie’s guts ever since he left her wanting more outside the tavern that night when the ‘more prettier’ girl had interrupted their date. “That isn’t how this works, Cuthbert. There are papers to be fi-”

  Cuth strummed louder on his lute, singing at the top of his lungs, “Fuck you and you and yooooou. I hate your friends and they hate me too. I’m through. I’m through. I’m throoough. This that Hot Cuth Bummer Anthem, listen up and throw a tantrum!”

  It hadn’t stopped there. Cuth strummed and sung and bounced his bootylicious plated buttocks out the Blood Knight’s office doors in musical fashion. Dancing and strumming down the streets he would sing as loudly as possible, “THIS THAT HOT CUTH BUMMER ANTHEM, LISTEN UP AN THROW A TANTRUM!”

--

  Cuth blinked to the pair of Forsaken, “Probably not. My boss was the real jealous type, super unraisinable.”

“Un- raisin-able?”

“Yeah, you know how everyone hates raisins? She was like that.”

  The duo of Argent Mages shared a look before Murrey spoke up again, “Fiine. We’re workin the portal room this afternoon. We’ll get you where you need to go, just. Be kind to everyone you meet, okay? Even if they are different than you.”

  Cuth rolled his eyes, “Psh, I’m the kindest most self blessed person you’ve ever met. I talk to everyone, even ugly people. Like, I’ve got zero problem talking to you two, and everyone knows that the Forsaken are some of the scummiest people in the world. -That- is how kind -I- am. Just sayin’.”

(Song reference)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmhO1LldIQw

[were-cheetah-stiles]

The College Years - Freshman Year (Chapter 14) - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles​

Title: “The Big Easy Resurrection, Part I”

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Chris Argent, Sylvie Ducette, Alan Deaton, Melissa McCall, Gerard Argent, Allison Argent, & Reader/OFC

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, return of major character, cursing probably, I just assume at this point.

A.N.: This chapter was so much fun to write. I hope you all enjoy your trip to New Orleans.

Summary: Y/n, Scott, and Stiles go down to New Orleans in order for the coven witches to bring Allison Argent back to life.

Chapter Thirteen - Chapter Fourteen - Chapter Fifteen

Scott, Stiles, Y/N, Lydia, Isaac, Parrish, Derek, Cora, Ethan, Malia, Liam and Hayden sat in Y/N’s living room, discussing what was about to happen. The usual side chatter and snarky comments were not to be found that day.

"So Derek is going to be up here and Liam and Hayden are going to be on call if you guys need extra help while we're away.... Listen, if we could do this after we dealt with the vampires, we would, but we're running out of time." Scott explained to his pack.

"So Gerard agreed to do it... willingly?" Malia asked, lacking tact.

"He agreed. He knows he dying and even though he's a jackass..."

"I think you mean 'absolute sociopath', Scott." Stiles interjected.

"Okay, yea, even though he's totally a sociopath, I think that he genuinely loved Allison. He wants to give her another shot." Scott explained to Malia and everyone else. He was being very stoic and matter-of-fact about the whole meeting that night.

"So the cancer came back?" Parrish asked, uncomfortable about crossing the line into sacrificing people, even if that person was Gerard Argent.

"Yea, and it's worse than last time, he's got weeks left.. at best." Isaac interjected, wanting to back up Scott and Chris' decision.

"And how are we going to explain the fact that everyone thought she was dead for... years? People saw the body..." Ethan asked, the skepticism in his voice apparent. He couldn't understand why they couldn't bring Aiden's body along and bring him back to life as well.

"Ah, I'm glad you asked." Stiles answered, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, the kind he got when he knew that he came up with a good plan. "I've got Braeden backdating paperwork stating that Allison was in the witness protection program and that the government faked her death to keep her safe." Stiles rubbed his hands together, as he explained the plan.

"Safe from whom.. is that actually going to work?" Ethan questioned again.

Stiles raised his hand and glared at Ethan. "I could put your name down, you're insane and dangerous."

"She'll make it work.. She is an actual U.S. Marshal again after all." Derek answered, stopping the bickering.

"It'll all work, you guys, they've been performing this ceremony for centuries... It'll work." Y/N reassured the group.

"We'll be back with Allison by Monday." Scott said, wrapping up the pack meeting.

You watched from your window seat as Chris Argent directed the luggage handlers on how to load the casket into the cargo hold of the Argent family plane. You looked around and saw the pensive faces of Scott, Melissa McCall and Dr. Deaton, settling into their seats and preparing to take off. Stiles walked back to sit next to you, buckling his seatbelt in and taking hold of your hand.

"Now that everyone is aboard, please fasten your seatbelts. The safety demonstration will start momentarily, and we will begin taxiing shortly after. Thank you." The flight attendant said from the front of the small jet, as Mr. Argent buckled himself in next to his father, Gerard.

"You okay?" Stiles asked, squeezing your hand gently to get your attention from the window.

"Yea, just nervous... Did Gerard say anything to you two when you were getting him strapped in?" You asked Stiles and Scott who was sitting across from the couple.

"Yea, he wants to talk to you and Deaton before we land. I think he has some questions about what's going to happen." Scott answered.

"I don't know how much I can even answer. I don't even know that much. Did you tell him that I'm only here because the coven witch requested it?" You asked, the panic sinking in.

Stiles rubbed his hand up and down your arm, trying to calm you. "He knows that, and don't worry, Deaton can probably answer some questions." He reassured you.

The flight was finally in progress and you sat down next to Dr. Deaton, across from Chris and Gerard. Stiles, Scott and Melissa settled into the seats adjacent to hear the conversation, and keep an eye on Gerard.

"Why didn't the cleansing work?" Gerard asked.

"It did.. it stopped the black blood from coming out of your body. That was all that it was meant to do." Dr. Deaton answered for you, in his usual wise and calm tone.

"Did it bring the cancer back?"

You looked to Deaton; you had wondered the same thing for a few weeks. "No. Derek's bite wasn't a forever cure. That would have only been the case if he had actually turned you." Deaton spoke up again. You sighed quietly in relief that you didn't cause a man to get mortally sick.

"Isaac and I could smell the cancer the last time we were with you, before Y/N even did the cleansing." Scott interjected.

"Will it hurt?" Chris asked, knowing that Gerard wanted to know the answer, but knowing that he would never ask the question.

"My father said it won't." You said finally.

"Then let's just get this over with already." Gerard leaned his head back, grimacing and closing his eyes.

They drove through the black wrought iron gates of an old New Orleans cemetery, and you felt the power around you. Chris, Stiles, and Scott unloaded the casket as Dr. Deaton and Melissa escorted Gerard inside. You followed closely behind, but stopped in your tracks at the sight of a tall, older woman, dressed in a black robe, with flaming red hair and bags under her eyes.

"Y/N Y/M/N, oui?" The tall woman spoke in French. You nodded. "Ca va?" The women asked.

"Bien, et toi?" You spoke back, hesitantly.

"Bien. It's good to finally meet the future of New England's witches. My name is Sylvie Renee Ducette." Her accent was thick only like those who had New Orleans running through their blood for centuries. "Why don't we go inside and talk while we wait for dusk?"

You nodded and followed her into a room, where the whole group and some older coven witches sat waiting for them. You sat down next to Stiles and Melissa, and took Stiles' hand in yours. You could feel the magic floating through the air, and you hoped that Stiles could anchor you back to reality.

"Bonjour. Je m'appelle Sylvie Renee Ducette...... and I will be the one performing the Transfert tonight. It's good to meet y'all." Sylvie stood in front of the group and folded her hands in front of her. "Does anyone have questions?"

Everyone sat in silence, looking around at each other for a few moments. Finally Scott spoke up. "How long does it all take?"

"We'll begin in an hour, and it will take about an hour after that. The Transfert must be complete at the moment that the Sun finally sets." Sylvie remained standing at the front of the room, waiting for further inquiries.

"What will she remember?" Melissa asked, quietly.

"Tout." Sylvie answered. Melissa looked to you to translate.

"Everything." You said.

"So, she'll remember dying?" Stiles questioned, skeptically.

"Oui. She'll remember. She'll remember everything, but what has happened in the in between. She'll have all of her old memories and feelings. She'll be your Allison Argent once again."

"And it doesn't matter that she is.... a decayed.... corpse now, you said she would look the same, right?" You confirmed awkwardly. Sylvie nodded.

"Will she be healthy?" Mr. Argent finally piped up, trying to maintain his composure.

"Like nothing ever happened."

"Will she be darker?... cause I feel like in movies, when they do this, you come back like evil or whatever... and you know, when we did this, I came back a nogitsune, so...." Stiles wondered out loud.

Sylvie smiled softly at Stiles' question, and chuckled before answering. "This ritual is very different than the one he performed." She glanced carelessly at Deaton. "Unless she was dark before, she will not be dark after."

"So she'll just be Allison?" Scott clarified.

Sylvie nodded, and then turned her attention to Gerard. "I'll let you say your goodbyes, but then we must take him and the body to begin preparing them. You are all invited to witness. Someone will be in to fetch you shortly." With that, she turned and left the room, the other coven witches following behind her.

Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Make sure Allison knows who did this for her." Gerard announced to the room. "Make sure my legacy lives on through her."

"Thank you, Gerard." Scott said sincerely, as Gerard scowled at the young Alpha.

They watched as they laid Gerard on a large stone slab next to Allison's decaying corpse on an adjacent stone slab. The coven witches placed large metal bowls below the four corners of Gerard's table.

They then poured oils, herbs and flowers over Allison and Gerard's bodies. They wrapped Allison's torso in clean, white, linen cloth, and began burning sage around the room.

"Y/N, what does 'Transfert' mean?" Scott whispered.

"Transference. It's the name of the ritual." You answered.

Stiles leaned over to whisper to you. "This is much less disturbing than I imagined." You turned your head and simply looked at Stiles, seeming concerned, but before Stiles could find out what was wrong, Sylvie began speaking.

"We are going to begin now. A warning: do not break the seal around the tables or else the ceremony will not take." Sylvie said to the guests, standing against the wall.

Sylvie then turned her back to the pack and began touching implements on the table in front of her. One of the younger coven witches walked towards Gerard and began an incantation, he then laid his hands on Gerard's forehead and chest.

Gerard let out a long, loud breath. "C'est parti.... c'est parti." He said softly.

"What'd they just do?!" Scott asked.

"They took away his pain... C'est parti.. it's gone." You whispered.

"Completely?" Stiles questioned.

"Completely." The concern still shrouding your face.

The room then filled with coven witches, who began chanting in a mix of French and Latin. After a few minutes, they closed their eyes, bowed their heads and began to whisper their incantations.

In one swift and sudden movement, Sylvie turned around and slit Gerard's throat with a short scythe. You and Melissa gasped. Scott and Stiles winced, looking away. Stiles wrapped his arms around you and tucked your head into his neck. You peeked out from under your hair to see Chris intently staring at Allison's still lifeless corpse. Scott yelled for Sylvie to stop, as they all watched her move her way around the table, slitting Gerard's wrists and calves. Deaton held Scott back from disrupting the ritual.

Blood poured out of Gerard, as he gasped for his last breaths on his own. The bowls under the corners of the slab filled with the red life force, and Gerard became more and more pale. The chant grew louder as the flow of blood began to slow and the sun began to set.

As the last bits of blood dripped from the table, four coven witches broke from the group and picked up the bowls from the dusty ground. They poured Gerard's blood over Allison's corpse, and then stepped away. The sun went down and the room went dark and silent.

"ALLUMER!" Sylvie said forcefully, as suddenly all of the candles in the room illuminated with flames at their wicks and a massive gasp for air was heard from Allison's stone perch.

Allison gasped for air again and jolted forward, sitting up in place. Her hands frantically roamed her face, trying to wipe the blood off. Scott and Chris Argent rushed towards the table. Her skin was her usual porcelain perfection underneath and her hair, while matted down thick with wet blood, was it's previous silky brown splendor. The corpse was gone and was replaced by Allison Argent.

Stiles helped Scott get Allison into the car, but paused when he noticed that the only one not loading in was you. He looked around for you for a moment, and then saw you standing outside of the mausoleum, speaking with Sylvie, who had her hand on your shoulder. You nodded your head at Sylvie who turned to re-enter the structure where the Transference had just taken place.

"What'd she just say to you?" Stiles asked as you approached him outside of the car.

Thirteen <- -> Fifteen

I LOVE THIS CHAPTER. I hope you all did too. Let me know what you thought. Are you glad Allison is back? 

Equally huge chapter coming up on Monday, so let me know if you want to be tagged in it! Enjoy the Season Premiere tomorrow!

@alexhmak @dontstopxx @iloveteenwolf24 @chivesoup @vampirepinary @parislight @surpeme-bean @snek-shit @mayahart02 @fuxkdean @teenage-dirtbagbaby @sorrynotsorrylovesome @iknowisoundcrazy

[vintaehge]

1| Two is okay, three is too much.

HOGWART AU! Ship: Leta Lestrange x Newt Scamander x Reader Warning: None Request: Can you make a newt scamander x reader series where leta lestrange come back into newt's life and him and the reader are dating but leta thinks otherwise and makes him cheat because he still has feelings for her and also can u make sure the reader doesn't forgive him to easily but have a happy ending ALSO looked over you're stories they seem really good keep it up❤ A/N: Hello dear, I know writing the first chapter was really long for it shortness. I’m sorry darling but I still hope that you’ll like the beginning of this adventure with Leta and Newt. To every other readers, hope you enjoy too. Sorry for any spelling error.  Word count: 2109

Masterlist    Next

  Being a witch isn’t what everybody thinks. You’re not doing potion frequently if you’re not a potion master else you can make things explode or worse, which is not a goal. You don’t use a broom to travel, in fact you usually use cabs or hidden portals. Brooms are majorly used to play quidditch and not every wizard is a good player, trust me. And stop being so cliché about witch. Not all of them has a black cat, to be frank it’s quite rare. Owls are quite popular in generals, even though cats, rats and toads are too. Ah, muggles! They think witches are all ugly with strange features and crooked personalities but they would be so surprised if they knew the truth about the wizardry world.

Being a magical being was a lot more than that, actually, and it was the total contrary of the human’s thought. It was basically another reality with many jobs and schools, creatures and of course a lots of magic but it’s still so much more than just that.

You, in this world, were a witch. A proud student from Ilvermorny, school of witchcraft and wizardry in America. It wasn’t as prestigious as Hogwart but to be honest it was all you ever dreamed. Ilvermorny was a second house to you and you made such good friends there that you couldn’t careless about which school was better than the other.

After finishing school at Ilvermorny’s, you decided to study the magical creatures. How fascinating these beasts can be? You wanted to learn everything you could about them and share your knowledge with the world. And so you traveled all around the world to write a book about creatures and their way of being. 

While your trip, you took a boat which was leaving New York to London. Walking a little bit too fast in the crowded area to get on the upper part of the boat, you bumped into someone and dropped your case, felling on your butt afterwards. The person you bumped in, crouched next to you and looked at you worriedly.

“Oh, excuse me miss. I-I think I wasn’t looking where I was going.” The stranger said, struggling to talk without sounding totally nervous.

You grabbed the hand he was holding out for you to take it. He seemed a bit taken aback by your features when you fully raised your head towards him. To that stranger you looked incredibly good and the mysteriousness in your eyes... He couldn’t help but found you fascinating and slightly intimated. 

You brushed the dust out of your grey coat and smiled brightly to him(which caused him to gulp and feel his heart skip a beat), even if deep down you were just as intimidated as him for the same reason he was for you. What a strange duet you two were right now.

“O-oh no really, it’s not your fault, I was walking too fast.”

You lowered your gaze nervous, feeling the sweat slowly forming in your back. Suddenly, you noticed something, in the corner of your left eye, slipping out of the man’s case, The little thing was furry and grey with strange appearance. You instantly recognized the creature and gasped. Was he a wizard? Could you really mention there was a Niffler getting out of his luggage maybe taking all of his precious bright things with it? 

The man noticing your surprised expression, turned his look to the floor. He bit his lip immediately seeing what caught your attention. His Niffler.

Seeing the little creature was about to rob someone’s wallet, you got your wand out slightly.

“Arresto momentum!” You whispered, the spell reaching it victim.

The little creature was slow motioning and you grabbed it, hiding it in your coat’s pocket. To be sure he wouldn’t escape, you gave to the little furry animal a few golden and argent things to occupy it.

The stranger saw the entire scene and was a bit taken aback. Slowly realizing your error, you looked at him eye wide.

“Don’t tell me you’re a muggle?” You murmured, using the British term for the non-magic people. You felt your body tensing up in anticipation.

“I’m not. L-let’s just go a little farther to talk about all this.” He said looking around, noticing some people were giving the both of you strange looks.You relaxed a bit at his statement  as you followed him away of everyone. 

All the afternoon after the incident, you spent it introducing yourselves. You were so happy to meet an other wizard and none the less a wizard that liked magical creatures.

“I’m (Y/FULL/N), I’m glad to meet you Mister Scamander.” You smiled. 

Since then you started travelling with each others. Why? Well my friend, because you had that same passion about creatures. After a while, you decided to combine your researches with his and write a book about creatures. It was going to be called “Fantastic beast and where to find them”.

Soon enough, with all the adventures the book gave you, you became good friends. Your relation kept growing and when Newt finally decided to release the book he wrote with your help about the fantastic beasts, he asked you out. Let me say, you were really happy about it. It was the most beautiful day in your life.

Basically, now, your life is resumed to write about magical creatures, see them and then be back home and do something with your boyfriend. 

Tonight, the activity you were about to do with him was a little bit more special since it was your two years anniversary. The both of you decided to go see that huge quidditch match between two of the best team in the wizardry world, of course one out of the two was your favorite.

You weren’t surprised to see that there was a lot of people at the match but sincerely you didn’t cared. You just focused on you being with your boyfriend and it was perfect just like that. But as you two walked in the stairs for you to get to the place you were assigned, Newt stopped dead in his track.

You turned to see what was wrong and you saw her. The beautiful woman you would saw in a picture inside Newt’s wallet. You use to see that face often when you were traveling and taking care of the beasts with your boyfriend.

You suddenly understand that she is probably someone really important to him if he reacts like that. He never really told you what happened with the girl, he only said her name was Leta Lestrange and that he knew her since the time he went to Hogwart.

You gulped silently as you looked at the girl slowly walking in the crowd. You saw the pain flashing in Newt’s eyes and you just putted a hand on his shoulder. He looked at you, his eyes staring deep in yours, you just smiled sweetly in a reassuring way.

“It’s Leta isn’t it?” You asked.

He nodded and turned his head back to where she went. After a short silence between the two of you, you gently pecked Newt’s cheek.

“Go see her. I know you crave it. I’ll wait for you after the match at the entrance.”

You immediately saw a smile tugging at his lips as he hugged you tightly. 

“See you later then.”

~~~

As the match finished, you slowly raised from your seat and walked to the exit. The wave of quidditch fans was leading you out of the stadium. As you finally were out of the building, you made your way out of the crowd to wait for Newt.

At first, you thought maybe Newt was just caught in the middle of the wave and waited for him, patiently. You tried to distract yourself with minim things such as little families exiting the place while smiling and talking happily about how their favorite team won the final... but as time passed by you remarked there were slowly many to little people leaving and after a while, no one was getting out of the stadium.

The night started to get colder. You shuddered slightly, your coat was at home and you couldn't go back now because Newt was still nowhere to be seen. You had nothing to tell you what time it was and it seemed to you that you have waited for your boyfriend for years.

Of course this was exaggerated, you've been waiting for him for at least 1 hour 15 minutes. Still, this was pretty long. So after so much time waiting for him, you decided to head back home. After all, Newt knew his way to your shared house, if he wanted to hang with Leta so bad to give up on his girlfriend the night of their 2 years anniversary he could easily go back home alone.

And so you went back home feeling slightly like a forgiven piece of crap. How could he ditch you like that? Asked an inner voice but as soon as you asked yourself the question you found an excuse to it. He hadn't seen his friend in years! Of course he wouldn't enjoy just a little match with her. But still... on the night of your 2 years anniversary?

You pushed that thought away, giving yourself more and more excuses to his way of acting just until you felt slightly better and reassured. 'Yeah, he must have missed her. If I wouldn't see (Your Best Friend name) often, I would do the same thing.Right? Right.'

Feeling convinced by your own excuse, you showered and then went straight to bed. It was almost 1AM and tomorrow you had to go to the Diagon Alley to get some books about dragons and also a gift for your friend's birthday in a few days. That's why you needed your sleep more than anything right now but you weren't able to close your eyes and drift away in the wonderland. In fact, you were once again showered by anxious thoughts about Newt still not being back. Where was he? Was he still at the stadium? What was he doing? Was he waiting for you like you waited for him a few hours ago? Was he still with Leta?

Ah Leta, you didn't even knew her and you let your boyfriend ran in her arms. Well not literally but you know what I meant here. You slowly started to feel the remorse. Why had you let Newt go up to someone who is a perfect stranger to you? '(Y/N), how stupid can you be?! For all you know she can be Newt past girlfriend!'

You sighed and turned around in your bed. And so you did this for hours... but as you were finally drifting in the dream lands, you heard the front door open. Your eyes flung open straight away and you raised on your legs, walking silently to the entrance. As nearer you got to the entrance, louder got some whispers. You stopped to listen what was said. Maybe it wasn't Newt who entered home, maybe it was some muggles hunting down wizards or whatever could enter your house so early in the morning.

"Promise me we could see each other tomorrow, Newt, please! It's been so long since last time I saw you... I don't want to let you go this time plus we have to catch up all those years you were away from me~!" The voice was whining, it sounded like a plead but also like a mirror cracking in your ears. The mirror felt extremely fragile, like it was just about to shatter in pieces.

You held your breath, knowing Newt was silent because he was thinking about what her friend said, or so you thought. Never would you have guessed he was hugging her right now.

"I promise, Leta, I don't want to let you go either."

You heard Leta sigh and bid goodbye to Newt as your boyfriend waved back, finally closing the door. You slowly let your body slide down the wall. You hear the mirror break into pieces or maybe was it your heart? You had an extremely bad feeling about what was said. Your heart sunk in your chest. Newt accepted to pass time with her... not you. Her.

Who in the world was she to take your Newt away from you on the weekends?! It was the only time you could really share caring moments with him!

As you were about to move back to your shared bedroom, as whisper echoed close to you.

"(Y/N) what are you doing up so early in the morning?"