#☾ ━ .*. ❛ I can't stand to be so dead behind the eyes ❜ | Prompts

[dizzyjaden]

❝ WHY ARE YOU SO COLD? ❞

Scaramouche x Gn! Reader

♤ Summary: You get injured on a fatui mission in Inazuma with Scaramouche <3

♤ Warnings: Head injury from blunt force (not severe) that makes you woozy

♤ A/N: Thanks for the attention on the genshin men hcs post! So many new bunnies here. Sorry if this is a little rushed </3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A sharp ring pierces through your ears as you slowly rise from the sudden slumber that had been forced upon you, confusion settling in when you open your eyes to see a blurry hand repeatedly snapping its fingers in front of your face.

"Oh. They aren't dead after all. Go on and thank your luck, boys." A familiar voice speaks. Your vision of blurred shapes and colors slowly adjusts back to normal and finally manages to delineate the image of Scaramouche kneeling down in front of you. Taking in your surroundings, you realize you're on the ground, propped up against a tree, barely sheltered from the downpour of rain, and entirely drenched.

You begin to recall the events that led you here. You can remember that you and the four men that accompanied you were approached by a rather threatening lawachurl that you ended up stuck fighting as they retreated. These men now stood closely together, quivering behind the harbinger examining you. You can't seem to pinpoint the injury you took that caused you to go unconscious, but the dull throbbing in your head wasn't much comfort.

You open your mouth to speak.

"I-"

Scaramouche holds up his index finger directly in front of your face. "Follow my finger please..." He directs your gaze while he carefully moves his hand to the right, and then the left.

"Hm... You might have gotten off easy..." Scaramouche says. "But had I arrived at the scene of your little ruckus a moment later... You have me to thank for your life now, that's for sure."

Your embarrassment visualizes itself by staining your cheeks a bright shade of red. This is your first fatui assignment in Inazuma enacted alongside an actual harbinger, and here you are against a tree with a throb in your head that has certainly become a less-than-admirable sight at this point. On that thought, you brush your hand against your head, it is tender to the touch, but not excruciating.

"Hm... What exactly happened?" Scaramouche asks while standing up straight. "The five of you were supposed to defend the camping grounds."

You are barely acquainted with the four men you were assigned to work with, they do not seem keen on explaining the details of how they abandoned the campground entirely and left you to fight alone. You can not really blame them.

Scaramouche fixates on you instead, awaiting your own explanation rather than hearing it collectively from all of you.

You sigh.

"I recall my four comrades retreating a short while after the battle with the beast began."

Your comrades seem unsure of what to do as Scaramouche turns to face them.

"Is this true? As much as I hate to admit it I wouldn't even be surprised. Fairly new recruits, the lot of you. None of you have been... Broken in just yet." He murmured, a whisk of malice floating in his tone.

Finally, one of your colleagues steps forward and clears his throat.

"It's truly a miracle you arrived when you did, my lord. We retreated because we saw the fight fruitless. There was no way even the five of us could've taken it on."

Scaramouche scoffs at his explanation.

"What a sorry excuse. We are discussing a lawachurl... Yes? There are five of you."

The indigo-haired male sighs heavily and shakes his head. "It only makes sense that the most useless quartet of whiners in Snezhnaya gets thrown at me." He mutters. "I would be less angry, as I am perfectly aware of how unnecessary your company on this mission is. However, your combined incompetence has left someone of potential value injured. That is rather irritating."

The silence is heavy aside from the thundering rain that slaps violently against the terrain. With each moment of quiet that passes, Scaramouche seems to grow more irritable.

"You have nothing more to say?"

The soldiers do not respond. Scaramouche sighs, then lightly claps his hands together and smiles at the group.

"Since you four are clearly out of practice and in desperate need of a little exposure therapy, find me a lawachurl, defeat it, bring me back its horn. Don't come back until you do. You should be thanking me for this opportunity to grow." He orders. "If that doesn't suit your tastes, we can do this... Another way. But it won't be nearly as amusing to you."

"Y-Yes lord harbinger!" The one who spoke before bows swiftly, and practically drags his fearful team off.

Scaramouche glances at you from over his shoulder as you were left alone with him.

"Can you stand?"

Coming from him, any questions feel more akin to orders. Therefore, you begin to shift your weight entirely on the tree behind you, grabbing the trunk with a hand before Scaramouche rushes forward to support you instead. This comes as a surprise to you, but you are in no position to deny his assistance.

"I sincerely apologize... I feel lightheaded, still." You utter, as he pulls you up and allows you to put your weight on his side. His hat instantly protects you from the rain, causing you to breathe a sigh of relief. "This normally would not happen... I'm not used to defending others in battle."

"Well... If those bumbling idiots made the cut into the Fatui, I advise you to get used to it, quickly." Scaramouche said cunningly, beginning to walk you back to the campground. "I absolutely despise when they hand easy assignments to new recruits. They are not required to be here, and it always leads to me babysitting."

You can't help but smile slightly, it's not an everyday occurrence you casually converse with harbingers. Sensing the humor in his tone of voice, you just have to engage a bit.

"Ah, is that what you call sending a group of incompetent cowards off to fight large monsters? Babysitting?"

Scaramouche rolls his eyes.

"Trust me when I say that was the kindest I've ever been in this sort of situation."

As he guides you back to the campsite, your mind trails to various thoughts about how stiff and cold he is against your side. You didn't want to make too big of a deal out of the proximity with him, but it was so unexpected. It feels as though every muscle in his body is firmly tense, and his skin is noticeably cooler than the rain that you had just been nearly submerged in moments ago.

Curiously, you steal a side glance at his face as quickly as you can. It was already obvious to you that he is beautiful, but his features are so picturesque and devoid of flaws that they almost look unreal. Doll-like and hand-crafted. Something about him feels uncanny to you.

"Something on your mind?"

You're snapped out of your trance at his words, you swiftly shake your head and remain quiet the rest of the way.

When the two of you arrive at the campsite, he's quick to help you into a tent.

"Alright, rest well-"

"You're leaving again?" You instinctively cut him off.

He raises an eyebrow at your intervention.

"No, I already completed the mission while the rest of you were here." He stated. "But you should sleep, if you're going to be worth anything tomorrow."

You stare at him wordlessly for a few moments. He doesn't seem bothered by the unoccupied silence for whatever reason, but he does eventually speak up once more.

"What is it?"

You smile. "You are a rather interesting individual. I've worked for you a while, but have never gotten to speak to you one one-on-one before."

Scaramouche seems surprised at this, processing your words for a few short seconds.

"Hm? So, that's what you've been thinking of. I thought you were behaving overly placid for someone who just sustained a head injury... Alright then, I'll give you a bit of my time in compensation for working alongside amateurs today." Scaramouche nodded, joining you in the tent. He sat on his knees in front of you.

"You've got my attention. What do you wish to speak to me about?" He asks

A slight hum leaves your lips as you contemplate the confusion you felt before.

"Why are you so... Cold?"

Scaramouche almost seems amused at your words, choking back a snicker by clearing his throat.

"Well... It is raining-"

"You are much colder than the rain." You chime.

This time, he seems at a loss for words. He takes your hands in his own and brushes his chilled fingers over them.

"Why are you so warm?" He asks, an honest demeanour flickered through his eyes.

You shrug slightly.

"Metabolism? Body heat generates in organs... Like your heart."

He nods knowingly, as if you somehow managed to find the answer to the question you'd asked him with that response alone.

"Sleep well tonight, okay?" Scaramouche patted your shoulder. "I will need to make preparations for travel. Let me know if you need anything."

And just like that, he left the tent as you struggled to think of something else to say to him.

"Oh... Goodnight."

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

𝐃𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫'𝐬 𝐒𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲 ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩⋆

synopsis: being alone in the woods isn’t a great idea, but your village is in dire need for a savior, and who better to give you salvation than the sleeping soldier of Wallachia

tags: mentions of blood, violence, vampiric trancing, vulgar, explicit, fingering

wrd cnt: 1.5k

a/n: first ever castlevania fic w my favorite bbg

You didn’t support what happened to that poor woman. Lisa Tepes, the wife of Dracula Tepes.

Your town was always weary of the church, and the rumors of witchcraft. Fools, you said. Wherever there is a competent women, there must be witches?

The warning from the sky sent the entire country into a panic, soon enough your ears heard whispers rustling through the forest about a sleeping soldier, a savior who would end the terror of the night and vanquish Dracula and his army of demons.

No one was brave enough, but you were tired enough. Tired of locking the shutters so tight not even a sliver of moonlight could peak in, tired of sleeping so soundly not a single devil could hear your breathe, tired of the constant fear that bathed your body in a ghastly feeling.

But- there was so much to lose. The rumors- sightings of the creatures that stalks the sky’s, killing anyone who dares to venture out after dark.

You’ll sleep on it, but not for long.

….

You can hardly sleep with all the noise. The noise?

The shutters fly off the walls of your home almost fantastically, but not as loudly as the first scream of a mother. You weren’t safe any longer, and you had to make a decision now.

As you huddle in your home, praying for the dawn to come in a matter of seconds, you hear the second screams of your neighbors outside.

You know what it means - the monsters have come for your village. With your heart pounding in your chest, you grab a weapon, cross, bundle of garlic, and flee into the woods, hoping to escape the unspeakable horrors that stalk the earth.

As you run through the forest, tripping over roots and branches, you realize that you're lost. But you don't have time to worry about that right now. All that matters is getting away. You follow a particular light and hope it’s a fire, but you stumble upon a cabin, hidden deep in the woods. You dash towards it, hoping to find shelter.

The door swings open as you bash your shoulder in.

As you pant like a dog on the floorboards, you move your hair back behind your shoulders and survey the room.

Inside, you find the space lit by flickering candles. As you catch your breath and get up, you notice a strange object in the corner of the room - a coffin.

Almost in slow motion, you watch. A figure rises from inside, his eyes glowing in the dim light and his ears pointed, partly covered by his lengthy almost platinum hair.

'Alucard,' you whisper, your voice trembling. You've heard the tales of the sleeping soldier, a creature who is neither alive nor dead, son of Dracula and the Prince.

As Alucard approaches you, you can see his teeth, long and sharp, glinting in the light. You know what he is - a monster, just like the ones that have been hunting you. But as you look into his eyes, something strange happens. You don't feel fear anymore. Instead, you feel something else - something of warmth, something almost symphonic.

'You're not like them,' you say, your voice still but a whisper. 'You're different.'

“And you are?” He asks.

“Y/n-…That’s my name.”

“And why have you woken me, Y/n”. He says sternly, reminding you of the fact.

As you stand there, face to face, you can't help but feel a strange connection to him. You stutter as you try to find the right words to explain yourself.

'I-I was running from the monsters,' you say, your voice shaking. 'I didn't know where to go, and I saw your cabin. I just needed a place to hide.'

Alucard studies you for a moment, his glowing eyes never leaving your face. You can feel your heart racing as he steps closer to you, closing the distance between you. You can smell his strange, intoxicating scent, a mix of something sweet and something earthy. It's a smell that you can't quite place, but it fills your senses and makes your head swim.

'And what makes you think I'm any different from the monsters you were running from?' he asks, his voice low and husky.

You swallow hard, trying to find the words to explain what you're feeling. 'I don't know,' you admit. 'I just... I don't feel afraid of you. I feel safe.'

Alucard's expression changes at your words, and he takes another step closer to you. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, and you find yourself drawn to him, unable to look away. He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

'You shouldn't feel safe around me,' he says, his voice barely above a whisper. 'I am a vampire, and you are full of blood that I can hear at this very moment coursing in and out of your heart like a little rabbit’.

Alucard's eyes darkened at the mention of blood, and he looked at you hungrily. You couldn't help but feel a little scared, but at the same time, there was something thrilling about being so close to a creature of the night. You could feel your heart racing in your chest as he leaned in closer, hoping he could hear it, his lips just a breath away from yours.

'I could take it all, you know,' he said, his voice low and menacing. 'I could drain you dry and leave you here to rot. Like a vampire.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry with fear and excitement. 'But you won't,' you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Alucard smirked, his fangs glinting in the light. 'No, I won't,' he said. 'Because for some reason, I find myself intrigued by you, Y/n. I want to know more about you, and what makes you different from the other humans I've encountered.'

With that, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You gasped at the sudden contact, your body trembling with desire. You had never experienced anything like this before, and you couldn't help but wonder what had come over you.

Alucard's tongue explored your mouth, tasting every inch of you. You could feel his fangs brushing against your lips, and it only served to heighten your pleasure. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you as the kiss grew more intense, feeling his hair envelope you.

As you kissed, you could feel yourself growing weaker, and you knew that it was only a matter of time before Alucard's thirst took over. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to push him away. There was something about him that drew you in, something that made you feel alive.

Finally, Alucard broke the kiss, his eyes glowing with desire. 'I need to taste you, Y/n,' he whispered, his voice husky with need. 'I can't resist it any longer.'

You nodded, unable to speak. You knew what he was asking for, and you were more than willing to give it to him. Alucard's lips found your neck, and he bit down gently, his fangs piercing your skin. You cried out in pleasure, the pain mixing with the pleasure in a way that you had never experienced before.

As Alucard drank from you, you could feel yourself growing weaker, but it was a weakness that you welcomed. You had never felt so alive, so desired, and you knew that this was something that you would never forget.

And what followed was even more unforgettable.

As Alucard drank from you, you could feel the pleasure coursing through your veins. 'Don't stop,' you whispered, your voice barely audible. 'I don't want this to end.' Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him closer to you as he continued to drink.

Finally, Alucard pulled away, leaving a small wound on your neck, licking it gently to console you. You slumped against him, completely spent. He carried you to the bed, laying you down gently before climbing in beside you.But he wasn't done with you yet. His hand began to explore your body, tracing patterns on your skin that made you shiver with delight. You looked up at him, your eyes heavy with desire. 'Do you want this? Taken by a Dhampir?' he asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

'More than anything,' you replied, his eyes dark with desire. His fingers found their way between your legs, teasing you until you were begging for more. You gasped as he slid a finger inside you, causing your body to arch off the bed with pleasure. He began to move his finger in and out, slowly at first, but then faster and faster as he curled them up.

'Oh, God,' you cried out, your body on fire with desire. You had never felt anything like this before. And then, he added a second finger, stretching you wider.

‘The Gods are not here to save you. I am.’ He whispered.

You cried out with pleasure, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. 'Don't stop,' you begged, your voice ragged with pleasure.

‘You’re quite demanding, could have fooled me.” He says, ‘If I help you- when I help you, we’d do good to stick together’.

Shit, you just remembered, the whole reason you left was to get help. Now you’re about to fuck the help.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[letshavedeernnertogether]

Sleepyhead, part two

the plot is: you have nightmares and can't sleep because of it, luckly alastor knows how to help you.

part one, part two, part three, part four

tw: none, just keep on being cute and sweet

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

You were lying in bed on your back pulling the blanket right up to your chin. Your eyes were wide open, and you gazed into the darkness. The living shadows swirled around your room. They were the uncontrolled tentacles made of darkness, that haunted you every night.

Every time you went to bed and turned off the light, the moment when you almost fell asleep, the dark figures came out and tried to catch you. You opened your eyes, followed their stirs and couldn't move. You perspired profusely, you hardly breathed, and you felt like your own body floated above the bed, as if your spirit left your shell.

The most frightening thing was the feeling, that they were real. They were not a dream. It seemed so to you, because you never noticed, when you fell asleep and began to dream, and also you didn’t notice, when you woke up. Morning came, and the eerie shadows receded, and only then you could fall asleep. But every night they returned again.

These tentacles never touched you, but you were afraid to leave your bed, thinking that it was the only refuge. You knew that if they grabbed you, they wouldn’t let you go, they would strangle you, and you'd become a shadow like them. They were hungry and hated those who could live in the light of day.

Light?

You were lying in bed sweating with fear. The blanket pressed on you like the sky on the shoulders of Atlas, and the time seemed stopped. It seemed the morning would never come. Morning...

Suddenly you thought about the light. These dark creatures never came during daylight hours. They were probably afraid of the light.

A lamp stood on your bedside-table, but it was too far to reach. And you didn't want to make any moves to not get the figures dander up. But if you make a sudden harsh move... If you suddenly jump out of bed, get to the door, jerk it open, then a light must pour out from the corridor, which had never been extinguished there.

Taking a deep breath and mustering your courage up, you jumped out of bed, ran between the tentacles, that almost grabbed your ankles several times, and ran out into the hallway, slamming the door behind you.

You screamed out, when you pressed your back against the door and felt a push. They wanted to get to you. Were you still awake?

You dashed for the main hall, away from your room.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

When you were downstairs in the dim lit lobby, you heard a slowly jazz music coming from the kitchen. You headed for the sound, expecting to see there the man, who once lulled you with his song. Getting closer, you smelled something savoury. Your mouth filled with saliva.

When you entered the kitchen, Alastor was standing in front of the gas stove and cooking something. He took off his froak coat and worn a light red apron. His cane was placed nearby, and the music was coming out from it with a drowsy buzzing. He was softly humming the melody.

Alastor heard some movings behind him, when you sat down on a chair next to the table. His eares twitched, and he turned his head back. He looked at you in surprise,

"It's strange to see you awaken at the dead of night, my dear. Why aren't you in bed?"

You looked down, "Nightmares," You muttered sadly.

Alastor looked at the rice in the frying pan, reduced the heat and looked at you again.

"Why my dear!" He exclaimed, "You always sleep so sweet, I never thought you could have bad dreams."

"It's only at night," You yawned and continued still looking at your knees, "When the night comes, and everything sinks in the darkness, these shadows creep out of somewhere, and I can't fall asleep because of the fear..."

You were so tired and exhausted with this night. Being here, in the warm kitchen, filled with appetizing smell, when a softly slow jazz swirled around you and Alastor, made you fell into a light doze.

"Hmm," Said Alastor, "You said nightmares, but described it like reality."

"Because I don't understand what it is!"

Alastor heard that your voice began to break, and you lifted your hand to wipe a tear running down your cheek.

"I know I'm not dreaming when I see them, and moreover, they pushed the door after I left. I'm wondering how I managed to escape..."

Tears were running down your face, but you didn't sob. Tears left silver traces on your skin, but in the lighting of the kitchen they seemed bronze. Alastor thought how beautiful you were even in your sadness. But he liked you more with a soft smile on your face, when you slept near him.

Alastor took off the apron and came to you. You didn't see it, you just felt how he gently touched your face. His thumb wiped the tear from the corner of your eye. You looked at him. He held your face in his hands. His soft gaze awakened something inside of you. You didn't want anything but to stare in his big glowing eyes.

You licked your lips and said sniffing,

"I think your dinner is burning."

He raised his eyebrows, his lips formed a silent "O", and he went up to the gas stove.

When he turned away from you, you wiped the rest of your tears glading that Alastor couldn't see your blush as your skin was totally black.

He added some broth in the pan and stired the dish. Breathing in the savoury smell and listening to the music, you thought, why couldn't you fall asleep. The problem wasn't in your bed, you slept there well during the day. The darkness or the night? Well, it seemed more like true. And you thought that your helplessness to the shadows were stupid. But then you remembered how the narrow tentacles wriggled under your feet trying to seize you, when you slammed the door shut. They were moving under the door, and it didn't seem like they were actually afraid of electric light.

You flinched remembering it. But then you remembered how you had a nice sleep at night in the hotel. It was your first night and the night a week ago.

You couldn't say what was special in your first night, after when Alastor had taken you to your bedroom, as it was dark and you were alone as always. you didn't know the truth.

But last week you spent the whole evening with Angel in his room. You were talking about your lives for several hours and ate a lot of unhealthy snacks watching your favorite romantic comedy from when you were alive. You both laughted at stupid decisions of characters, and you both were touched by the same romantic scenes.

Leaning against Angel's shoulder, breathing in his sweet vanilla smell, you fell asleep. You woke up embraced by all his four arms in his bed, just where you fell asleep. In the morning, when Angel woke up, he said that you were too sweet and too cute to be disturbed, so he didn't woke you up. But he didn't say, why he hadn't carried you to your bedroom, and you didn't ask him about it.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

The darkness and loneliness might had been the reasons of you being haunted by the living nightmares.

Alastor looked at you again. He thought that the nightmares were another curse of you. What an unfortunate darling you were. You told him about your life and how you avoided reality for all your life. And now you were cursed to never get enough sleep, and at night you were surrounded by your own fears and couldn't even close your eyes. Too much for a poor thing like you, thought Aalstor.

"I can't sleep in the dark and I can't sleep alone," You said. It seemed to you, that you had a good sleep then, because Angel was by your side. Maybe these shadows were powerless when you were not alone?

"Alone?" He asked tilting his head.

You nodded.

"Hmmm," Alastor looked up thinking on something. You noticed that he'd already covered the frying pan with a lid. Now his dinner was slowly braised.

"Well, my dear," He said coming up to you, "it's a shame that a sleepyhead like you can't have enough sleep during the night, so she must sleep all day long depriving me of the opportunity to spend time with her. This cannot go on."

He gave you his hand.

"But your dinner?"

"Don't worry, Starry eyes," He said bending in his waist still giving his hand, "I can absent myself for a time. I just want to offer you something, it won't take long."

You took his hand and stood up. He pulled you closer to him, so your bodies touched. Three upper buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, and you blushed understanding that it was the first time you saw him being so informal.

"Hold on tighter, darling," He wispered in your ear, before you sank into the dark light.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

You opened your eyes to find yourself in the unfamiliar room. You pressed yourself close to Alastor, his hands were on your shoulder-blade. The wind from the window chilled you, and you cuddled closer up to him. You turned your head to look around and understood, that it wasn't the wind from the window. It was the wind from the forest. The place, where Alastor took you, was half room and half the woods. You both were standing in the room in dark red colors with dark wood furniture, and the other side of the room was a night forest. You heard rustling, chirring, twittering coming from it. It was actually real.

"Welcome to my room, darling," Said Alastor letting you out.

So, it was his room. Before any other thought came on your mind, Alastor placed his arm on your waist and led you to a bed, that was in the center of the room.

"What? What are you doing?" You stopped and looked at him.

"My dear, this place is the safest in the whole hotel, and even in whole hell, if I may say. Here no one and nothing will hurt you. None of your eerie fears will find you here." He carefully placed his arm on your shoulder. His static voice made goosebumps ran down your back. He turned you back to him and pointed at the bed with his cane, "This room, this bed are your refuge. You don't need to be afraid here."

You looked at the bed. How cozy, how warmly, how alluringly it looked. You yawned. What was the use of refusing? After crying your eyes were tired, you wanted to close them and fall asleep. The bed seemed just perfect. The room was warm, and the chill of the forest helped you not to feel too much hot.

You glanced at Alastor. You didn't mind using his bed at all, but if he offered it to you, where would he spend the night then?

"And what about you?" You asked.

"Oh, darling," He softly smiled at you, "I'm the exact antithesis of you. While you always want to sleep, I have insomnia."

"Ohh," You pronounced. "Poor thing," You thought, "It might be difficult not to sleep, and not to see dreams."

You turned to the bed and then turned to Alastor again. He looked at you expectantly.

You slowly climbed into bed. Bed linen was soft and it smelled like... It smelled like Alastor. It was the same scent as when he had pulled you closer to him, before you both faded away in his shadow and turned out here.

You lay your head on the pillow and sank in its softness. But it wasn't too soft. It was just perfect. Like all his bed. Like all his room. A smile spread across your face.

You turned on your right side to look at Alastor and thank him. But you didn't have time to say anything, because he wrapped you in the blanket like a child. He tucked the blanket in, so you wouldn't get cold. When he leaned lower over you to tuck the blanket behind you, you tilted your head in the way so your lips "accidentally" met his chin. He froze still leaning over you.

You were lying between his hands, his face was in two inches of yours. He saw a sly yet shy smile on you. He smiled back, and your heart skipped a beat. You thought how beautiful he was. Maybe even too beautiful. You could drown in his crimson gleaming eyes, that hypnotized you.

Very slowly Alastor lifted his head to leave a tender kiss on your forehead.

"Goodnight, my love," He wispered.

You didn't open your eyes still feeling his lips on your forehead, and only when you heard a rustling, you opened your eyes and turned to the right. Alastor had just disappeared in the shadow.

Did he call you love?

You blushed so bright, that if there was anyone in the room, they would had seen the explosion of the supernovae on your cheeks.

It was just like in your best dreams.

You made yourself more comfortable still smiling because of the sudden tenderness of Alastor. You breathed in the smell of bed linen. It savoured with his astringent cologne, with fur and a little bit of smoke, because of the fireplace opposite the bed. You thought, this was what home smelled like.

You were lying with your eyes closed waiting for sleep to come. Firewood softly crackled, crickets chirred in the woods. Suddenly a radio on the piano turned on, and you heard a sweet female voice. The radio played quietly, and the singer's voice sank in static. You noticed that this buzzing of the radio was a comfortable sound for you, as it brought drowsiness to you.

♪ Night winds seem to have gone to rest,

Two eyes, brightly with love are gleaming ♪

You heard it through the somnolence and smiled.

The radio kept on playing quietly until you fell asleep in the room, that was yours now...

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Alastor returned to the kitchen. His dinner was already done. He turned off the fire, mixed the dish and put some in a plate. The rest of the dish he put off in a basin and left it to cool, so that he could put it in the fridge later.

Usually Alastor didn't think about something secondary during a meal enjoying the food. But this time he couldn't help think about Sleepyhead. He remembered how she said, that she couldn't sleep alone. Could it be that all this time she was tormented by nightmares and did not sleep? Alastor remembered how he carried this tiny demon to her room at the first night. And how he stayed by her for all night long and watch her sleeping. She seemed had a very pleasant dream then. She always looked just as cute when she slept during the day, leaning on his shoulder.

Now he didn't even want to leave her alone in the bedroom. But he thought, that she might feel herself uncomfortable, if he stayed next to her and watched her until she fell asleep. Moreover he was extremely hungry. For the whole day he couldn't put something in his mouth, and now he was ravenous, so ravenous he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't suddenly eat her. After all she smelled very good.

Alastor raised his eyebrows in surprise, when his staff turned on the music. His hand with a fork froze on halfway to his mouth. From the staff a woman sang a lovely song. Alastor finished his dinner, rested his head on the hand and listened.

This singer was famous when Alastor was alive, but he never took a great interest in her. But now he liked the song and the voice.

♪ Come to my arms, my dear one,

my sweetheart, my own ♪

Alastor stood up and put on his froak coat. With a snap of his fingers the dirty plate became clean and it came in the kitchen cabinet.

♪ Kind night, bringing you nearer,

dearer and dearer ♪

Alastor beat the ground with the cane and the music stopped.

* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

When Alastor came to the bedroom it was already deep night. He saw you wrapped in the blanket, lying facing the forest. He came up to bed and heard your softly breathing. Alastor made the lights dimmer and, coming to the other side of bed, his clothes changed into the satin dark red pajamas.

Alastor saw a sweet smile on your face. You brought your hands to the face squeezing the edge of the blanket in your fists. You looked like a little doe, so small and innocent. You curled up, and Alastor took out a woollen blanket from a commode. He climbed into bed and covered you with the wool.

"Alastor..." You murmured in sleep.

He froze. He heard millions times before, how you talked in your sleep, but you'd never talked about him. Hearing his name on your soft moist lips was more than he could stand. His heart beat faster, and he felt ache in his stomach. You were so close to him, he felt your milky scent and felt your breath on his lips.

You stretched out your hands and embraced him. He fell next to you on the blanket. You wispered his name again, and his heart melted.

"You'll never go back to your bed, dear," He wispered buring himself in your fluffy hair and embracing you. He placed a kiss on your crown, and you smiled.

Alastor yawned. How strange, he never felt drowse lying in bed, but when he was next to you, felt your warmth and heartbeat...

He didn't notice how he fell asleep, with his head resting on yours, which you laid on his chest.

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･ ｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

invitation for deerner: @serapinaxx @noraunor

p.s.

sorry for it taking so long, another busy week at university, and now i feel like Sleepyhead herself hahaha

i hope you liked the part two and i wish you all sweet healthy sleep and kind fluffy dreams ♡ ♡ ♡

[ginsengkitten]

Nightfall: Chapter 1

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

The morning light filtered through the canopy of tree tops, sprinkling rays through the trees. The sounds of leaves and bark crunching under the tread of their hiking boots piercing the peaceful silence of the woods.   A young family trekked optimistically on their summer break. Getting the kids accustomed to the parents preconceived love of hiking that they shared far before ever having kids. It was the kind of trip they had both imagined for their little family ever since their first was born. Billy was a natural outdoorsy kid, Maggie, however was full of animosity towards it and would rather be playing Barbies. Even toting one of her dolls with her wherever they went. Still she admired the foliage, collecting her own bouquet of wildflowers along the way. The innocence of a young child embracing the still of nature and what the earth has to offer just by being.

Maggie encouraged that curiosity by wandering from the trail after straggling behind Billy, fortunately, Billy noticed and alerted their dad. "Dad, Maggie's running off again." To which he rolled his eyes at his daughter's silly habit and proceeded to track her down. Maggie hadn't gotten far, and when the dad had found her, he found her to be mesmerized, standing still in her spot.

"Mags how many times do we have to tell you not to-" he began to scold until his eyes met what hers did, resulting in him also frozen in horror. Maggie had stumbled upon what can only described as a horror scene. A deer lie in a small grove, dead and completely mutilated. Its poor body, unnaturally contorted into a heap of twisted, mangled flesh. The fur, skinned from its body. Flies made feast upon the bloody remnants.

"Daddy, what happened?" Maggie asked in fear. Unfortunately, daddy didn't have an answer. His fatherly knowledge reduced to the same childlike fear as hers as he grabbed her and ran, only to turn around and be met with whatever beast had tore the deer apart. The beast releasing a harrowing growl.

-

"Sources are calling it a total family annihilation; Investigators continue to work with the California department of wildlife and game wardens to determine what animal may be causing these gruesome killings, but have not released any further details to the public.

Police have urged the public to stay within city limits and avoid camping and other outdoor recreation until the animal is apprehended and put down. Local government officials are in talks of implementing a city curfew if the animal is not caught soon."

You listened half heartedly to the news as you pinned another music poster on your wall of your new apartment. Mind you the apartment itself was not new, in-fact very decrepit. A cigarette perched in the side of your lips as you concentrated. A 'vintage' Rolling Stones poster. You stood back and admired the new addition, one more thing to make this dingy place feel like a home.

Your roommate Vickey walked in from the kitchen, handing you a coffee. "Stones huh? Always a classic, I can't complain." She grinned. Vickey was the only person you knew in the entire state of California. You had answered her ad in the paper about looking for a roommate. You had finally gotten a job as a music journalist assistant for a local magazine print. It was small but just enough to get by and get your foot in. Music was your passion, and music journalism at that.

Vickey was a goth punk with black choppy hair, a blunt attitude and big in the rock scene; especially in LA, so the arrangement was working out swimmingly. She took a genuine interest in your work and would supportingly read all your writings and offer insider knowledge about shows. The two of you quickly becoming close friends.

"Another animal attack happened yesterday." Vickey said sipping her coffee. "Pretty crazy shit." . You sort of glaze over that statement, still focused on your interior design pursuit. "An entire family, shredded."

"Yeah that's crazy.." you say tranced on your new poster.

The TV reporter continues:

"In related news, a local church group has began petitioning the state of California for a total recall of all metal and rock music from its shelves, claiming the genres are the primary contributor to LA's recent uptick in crime, violence, and potentially a connection to the recent killings, they say."

Your neck snaps to the tv at this. Vickey scoffs. "Here we go again with these fuckin prudes and their protests." She flops on the couch and starts rolling a joint. "Is this a common occurrence then?" You ask, sort of laughing. Vickey doesn't break from her intense focus on her joint rolling; "The day the churches stop blaming everything on the rock scene is the day the last whore stops working the sunset strip. Shits been happening for generations pretty much. You just gotta ignore it." She grumbles.

"Right. Huh.." you mumble to yourself.

"You know- this could be a good story for the print." You blurt out. Vickey looks up, ushering her joint to you, but you decline by wiggling your cigarette in your lips. "Nah. This shits been covered a million times dude. Those uptight nuns have nothing new to spew anyways." She replies. "No no not for the church, Vickey, but the scene." You countered her. Her expression changed now more intrigued. "Oh? How so?". You pace around gently in thought. "From the rock scenes perspective on it. We ask them what THEY think about it all. Like the musicians and shit." Vickey chuckles and coughs out a cloud of smoke, "I dunno I don't think any local band is gonna give you the time of day unless you got drugs or can give good hea- well, actually..." She gets lost in thought for a moment. "I think I might know a couple musicians that MIGHT be willing to say a few words on the matter. -" you jump slightly with a mute excitement. "BUT- I can't guarantee you'll get anything of real substance from them.." she tries to ease your hopes down on her half offer but your excitement is apparent. "Vickey seriously?! That would mean the world to me. Who is it? When can I see them?!" Vickey smiles at your innocent enthusiasm to go willingly into the guttural den of rock.

"It's a local band called Guns N Roses. They're playing down at the troubadour tomorrow night. I'll see if I can get you in."

[taeswolfie]

𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 : 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚-𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓

☽︎𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒏☾︎

Ch.23 - Ch.25 (coming soon)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

Word count: 4.5k

An ambulance has come for Jackson's body and Melissa works her way into going with them. Y/n stands with Scott and Isaac (both changed into regular clothes) in the locker room as Noah tells them what he knows. "I got to meet with the medical examiner and try to figure out what happened with Jackson. I've got an APB out on Stiles. His Jeep is still in the parking lot, so that means..." He trails off. "Well, I don't know what that means. Um... Look, if he answers his phone, if he answers his emails, if any one of you see him..."

"We'll call you." Y/n assures.

"Look, he's probably just freaked out from all the attention or something." Scott says. "We'll find him."

Noah gives a quick nod. "Yeah. I'll see you, okay?" The teens nod as he walks away to be replaced with Coach.

"McCall. We need you on the team, okay? You know I can't put you on the field next season if you don't get your grades up."

"Yeah, I know, Coach."

"I mean, I-I know I yell a lot, but it's not like I hate you guys. Well, I kinda hate Greenberg, but you know, that's different. It's Greenberg." Coach jokes. "I'm just saying we... I need you on the team." He admits. "Get your grades back up."

"I will."

"I know." Coach leaves then too.

"Is that everyone?" Y/n asks after a moment.

Isaac steps forward and glances around the locker room. "I think so." Y/n's eyes glow. She closes her fist and yanks it back, pulling a locker door from its hinges. It crashes to the floor with a clang. Isaac looks down at the discarded piece of metal, then back up at her with raised brows. She pulls a shirt and a shoe from Stiles' locker. "You're gonna find him by scent?"

"We all are." She hands him the shoe and gives Scott the shirt. She doesn't really need anything, his scent has already been imprinted in her mind, committed to her memories.

"But how come he gets his shirt and I get his shoe?"

"Because I said so." Y/n tenses then, turning on her heel to find Derek there. But that's not why she's so alert.

"We need to talk." Derek says.

Peter comes from behind the locker behind him. "All of us."

"Holy shit." Scott says. "What the hell is this?"

"You know, I thought the same thing when I saw you talking to Gerard at the Sheriff's station."

"Okay, hold on. He- he threatened to kill my mom. And I had to get close to him. What was I supposed to do?"

"I'm gonna go with Scott on this one. Have you seen his mom? She's gorgeous." Peter commented.

Y/n, Scott, and Derek all looked at him. "Shut up!" They all yelled.

"Who is he?" Isaac asks.

"He's Peter, Derek's uncle. Little while back, he tried to kill us all, and then Y/n set him on fire, and Derek slashed his throat."

"Hi." Peter waves a bit.

Isaac gives a short smile. "Good to know."

"How is he alive?"

"He haunted me and wormed his way into my head enough that I helped bring him back." Y/n angrily admits. Scott looks at her. "Not my proudest moment."

"He knows how to stop Jackson." Derek says. "And maybe how to save him."

"Well, that's very helpful except Jackson's dead." Isaac informs.

"What?"

"Yeah, Jackson's dead. It just happened on the field." Scott confirms. Derek looks back at Peter who also looks away in thought.

"Okay, why is no one taking this as good news?" Isaac asked.

"Because if Jackson is dead, it didn't just happen. Gerard wanted it to happen." Peter said.

"But why?" Derek asked.

"Well, that's exactly what we need to figure out. And something tells me the window of opportunity is closing. Quickly."

They then went to the Hale house for some information Peter said he had. Y/n was eyeing the room where Peter was buried when her phone went off. She checked it and sighed in relief. "Scott, they found Stiles." Scott reacts the same as her. She looks at him with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry. I have to-"

"No, it's okay. Go. We've got it handled for now."

She smiled at him. "Thanks." Then she rushed off, basically running to the Stilinski house.

…

Stiles was laying on his bed in fresh clothes when a knock sounded on his door. "Dad, I said I'm fine." He called, yet the knocking persisted. He sighed and got up from the bed in irritation. "Come on, Dad. How many times-" He grumbled to himself when he opened his door, cutting himself off at the sight of Y/n.

"Hi." She breathed.

"Hi."

"God, what happened?" Her brows furrowed at the angry purple bruise on his cheek and the cut on his lip.

"It's nothing." He brushed it off, looking away from her.

"It's not nothing." She moved her head down a bit to make him look at her. "Stiles, don't lie to me."

"I'll be fine. Come in." He moved aside for her and she stepped into his room, him closing the door behind her.

"I can heal it." She offered.

He shook his head. "My dad's already seen it. He'd ask questions, you know."

"At least let me make it stop hurting." At her insistence he nodded. She gently put her hand on his cheek. Her eyes started to glow as she healed him just a bit. He stared into her eyes while she did this, he hadn't really been able to since the night at the Sheriff's station and he honestly missed it. When she was done her eyes dimmed to e/c and she sighed. "We need to talk."

They had sat on his bed and she was quiet for a couple minutes, not really sure how to start. "Are you breaking up with me?" He asked suddenly, unable to handle the silence.

"What?" She nearly choked on air and looked at him with wide eyes. "No! I would never- I can't believe you'd think... Well, actually I can believe you'd think that with how I've been acting lately."

"So you're not breaking up with me?"

"No, Stiles, I'm not breaking up with you. I love you, and I mean that. I'm just worried that what I have to say will make you break up with me."

"I wouldn't break-"

"Stop. Don't finish that because you might want to take it back when I'm done." He shut his mouth even though he didn't want to. She took a deep breath. "For a while now, almost as long as he was dead, Peter's spirit was attached to me somehow. I could see him without my eyes shifted when that's never happened before. I didn't know it was him at first but I eventually figured it out. He kept talking to me when I was alone, saying I would be stronger if I just practiced even one spell with blood magic. I was always so reluctant because I believed I wasn't ready for it, that I wasn't strong enough. He made me question if I was actually scared to try instead of just not being ready. Eventually something snapped. I let him in and he told me his plan. With Lydia's help I brought Peter back from the dead. I don't even really remember why I did it, but I did. It was so crazy what I had done, I panicked."

"That's why you kept apologizing." He realized and she nodded.

"And why I've been avoiding you. It killed me but I couldn't face you guys, I couldn't face you, until I figured out some way to make up for it. I honestly don't know if I ever will." She lightly shook her head and looked down at her lap. "So now you see why I'm so worried about what you'll say. I wouldn't blame you if you decided to end it-"

"Y/n. Look at me." She didn't right away and so he hooked his finger under her chin and made her look at him. "I wouldn't break up with you for anything unless it's what you want. Is it?"

"No. I don't. I really don't." She breathed. He leaned towards her and brought their lips together. Even though she eased the pain she was still careful of the cut on his lip. He leaned his forehead against hers when they pulled away. "Are you really sure you still want to stay with me even after what I did?"

He pulled away with a small huff. She was normally so confident, but sometimes that confidence will waver and she'll become very unsure of herself. "I'm sure. And I'll prove it." He got up from his bed and went over to his desk where he picked up a little black box. He sat back down next to her and held it up for her. "I, uh.. I got this for you after we, um, we first said 'I love you'." He flushed a bit when the events after that flashed through his mind and she chuckled at his reaction. "Just open it." He handed it to her and she took it with a smile. It faded to surprise though when she flipped open the lid, finding the simple silver ring inside. It was shaped into the shape of a Triple Moon with the middle moon sporting a pentagram.

"It's beautiful. But why would you…?" She trailed off, looking at him in question at the little gift.

"It's- it's nothing fancy. I just..." He took her hand and looked at her seriously. "It's like a promise ring. My promise to you that I'll be there for you no matter what. Whether it's something simple like a test or as big as... Raising psychopaths from the grave." He lightly joked, making her chuckle a little. "I want to be there for everything."

"Stiles." She didn't know what to say.

"Do you believe me that I want to stay with you now?"

She nodded with a smile. "I believe you." She took the ring out of the box and slipped it on her index finger. "Perfect fit. Good eye, Stilinski. What made you pick this design?"

"I saw that symbol on your grimoire and some of your other things, so I thought it was something you liked."

She nodded. "It's actually a symbol of the Triple Goddess, an entity with three forms. The Maiden, the Mother, the Crone. For witches she symbolizes our stages of life and our hopes. The Maiden, the young witch learning her craft from her elder. The Mother, the witch who has a child of her own and has something bigger to protect than herself. And finally the Crone, funnily enough what witches hope to become, the witch wise and experienced with time. Sadly not all witches get to embody the Crone."

"So very important symbol?"

She laughed. "Yes, very important symbol. Thank you." She smiled at him. Suddenly her phone went off and she checked it. "You've been ignoring Scott tonight?"

"No. No, not really."

"Look." She showed him her message from Scott. Something was happening with Jackson and Lydia could help. "We have to go." She stood up hastily but Stiles also got up to stop her.

"How much does she even know about this stuff?"

"Pieces. Enough. I've been trying to ease her into it. It doesn't matter right now. She can help him and I have to get her there."

"What if you get hurt?"

"I can handle myself."

"Y/n, I watched you collapse the other night. You were pale and sweaty and completely vulnerable. Derek was the one to carry you away. Do you even remember that?"

She shrugged. "A little. I overexerted myself that night, used too much of my energy in one go without properly resting. It won't happen again."

"And what if it does? What if you get caught by surprise and knocked out or killed? You know how I'll feel? I'll be devastated. And if you die, I will literally go out of my freakin' mind. You see, death doesn't happen to you, Y/n. It happens to everyone around you, okay? To all the people left standing at your funeral, trying to figure out how they're gonna live the rest of their lives now without you in it? Huh? And look at my face, huh?" He raised his voice and stepped closer to her, pointing to his cheek. "Come on, you actually think this was meant to hurt me?" When she took a small step back he seemed to realize how harsh he acted and stepped back himself. "Um... I'm so sorry."

"It's fine." She spoke quietly. "I understand and I get it. I feel the same about you. But I'm thinking about Lydia. How we feel about this is how she's feeling too. She's losing the boy she loves but she can save him and I'm gonna help her do it. I'm sorry. I love you, but I have to go." She turned and walked out of his room.

"Hey, Y/n, wait." He called after her but she was gone.

Stiles sat at his desk for a bit after she left, checking his phone for possibly something from her. There was nothing. Movement at his door makes him look over to find his dad. "She left, huh?" Noah asked.

"Yeah."

"So are you two, uh... Okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we're fine. I hope at least."

Noah stepped into his room and sat at the spare chair next to his desk. "Listen... I know getting beaten up, and with what happened to Jackson, has got you pretty shaken. But be happy about one thing. The game. You were amazing."

Stiles scoff with a smile. "Thanks, Dad."

"No, I mean it. Look, it was pretty much over. And then you got the ball. And you started running. You scored, and the tide just turned. And you scored again and again. You weren't just MVP of the game. You were a hero."

Stiles lightly shakes his head in disagreement. "No, I'm not a hero, Dad."

"You were last night." Noah smiles at him. After a pat on his shoulder he leaves him be.

Stiles looks at his phone again with a sigh. "I'm not a hero."

…

Scott and Isaac had taken Jackson's body from the hospital, getting a ride from Chris Argent because they have a common enemy. Gerard who is poisoning Allison to be like him like he did to Kate. They took him to the warehouse district where they're supposed to meet with Derek, Peter, Y/n and Lydia, but only Derek shows up. Peter watches from a ways away in a little hiding place.

"Where are they?" Scott asks Derek.

He looks around. "Who?"

"Peter, Y/n and Lydia." Derek ignores him and stands over the body bag housing Jackson. "Whoa, hold on a second." Derek unzips the bag. "You said you knew how to save him."

"We're past that." Derek opens the bag to reveal Jackson half shifted.

"What about-"

"Think about it, Scott. Gerard controls him now. He's turned Jackson into his own personal guard dog. And he set all of this in motion so that Jackson could get even bigger and more powerful."

"No." Chris disagrees. "No, he wouldn't do that. If Jackson's a dog, he's turning rabid, and my father wouldn't let a rabid dog live."

"Of course not." Gerard stands across from the group. "Anything that dangerous, that out of control... Is better off dead." Derek looks down at Jackson and goes to swipe at him with his claws. Jackson suddenly opens his eyes and impales Derek with his own claws. He hisses and growls as he stands with the Hale still in the air. He then throws Derek away. "Well done to the last, Scott. Like the concerned friend you are, you brought Jackson to Derek to save him. You just didn't realize that you were also bringing Derek to me."

An arrow whistles through the air, Scott ducks and it hits Isaac instead. "Allison?" Scott catches sight of the girl as she ducks back behind the corner behind Gerard. He runs over and pulls Isaac away from the danger. Chris pulls out his gun and shoots at Jackson. Jackson hisses and darts behind the car, shifting fully. Chris shoots around and through the car as he tries to hit the kanima. He empties a clip and quickly puts in a new one. Before he can fire more however the kanima jumps on top of the car and wraps its tail around the gun, yanking it out of Chris' grip. Chris runs to the side and pulls out a knife to face the kanima again, but the kanima only runs and shoves him away.

Derek flips over some pallets and growls, shifted. Scott and Isaac are also shifted as they face the lizard man. The three run at it, Derek being thrown aside after his hit was dodged. Scott impales it from behind but he's also thrown away. Isaac has his hands around its throat as Derek climbs some equipment. Isaac is hit away and Derek jumps down and hits the kanima from behind. He swipes at it but his arm is caught. The kanima pulls him and tries to hit him into a wall but Derek just runs up and pushes off of it, flipping out of the kanima's grip. He swings for a punch and his fist is grabbed. The kanima grabs his neck and throws him aside with a growl. Scott comes from behind and kicks it into a wall. The kanima flips around and kicks him himself and sends him flying. When Derek swings again the kanima slices him and Derek goes down. Isaac went to help the Alpha when Allison stepped in his way, slicing him with her knives until he's on his knees. She cuts him once more from the back to take him down.

She flips her knives and steps towards Derek when Scott yells. "No, Allison!" The kanima catches her wrists, disarms her, and holds her by the neck.

"Not yet, sweetheart." Gerard says as he walks closer to them.

"What are you doing?" She asked him.

"He's doing what he came here to do." Scott answers.

"Then you know." Gerard says.

"What's he talking about?" Allison asks again.

"It was that night outside the hospital, wasn't it, when I threatened your mother. I knew I saw something in your eyes. You could smell it, couldn't you?"

Isaac, shifted back to normal, looks up at him. "He's dying."

"I am. I have been for a while now. Unfortunately, science doesn't have a cure for cancer yet. But the supernatural does."

Allison gasps and the kanima tightens it's grip. "You monster." Chris seethes.

"Not yet."

"What are you doing?" Allison yells.

Gerard glares her way and the kanima tightens again. "You'll kill her too?" Chris asks angrily.

"When it comes to survival, I'd kill my own son!" He looks at Scott now. "Scott." Scott shifts back and takes a few steps forward to Derek, standing over him. He reaches down and grabs him by the back of the neck and pulls him up.

"Scott, don't." Derek says. He's too weak to fight back. "You know that he's gonna kill me right after. You'll be an Alpha." He directs the last part to the man himself.

"That's true. But I think he already knows that, don't you, Scott? He knows that the ultimate prize is Allison. Do this small task for me, and they can be together. You are the only piece that doesn't fit, Derek. And in case you haven't learned yet, there is just no competing with young love." Gerard takes off his jacket.

"Scott, don't! Don't!"

"I'm sorry. But I have to." Scott says. Derek groans as Scott pulls him back, craning his head back so that his mouth is wide open. Gerard rolls up his sleeve as he approaches. He puts his arm in biting range and Derek can't help but to. Gerard screams and pulls his arm away. He has now received the Bite. He laughs and holds his arm up in victory, looking at everyone. But it doesn't seem so victorious when black blood starts to seep from the wound.

His smile fades when he sees their shocked expressions. "What?" He finally lets his arm down and looks at it himself. "What is this? What did you do?"

Derek looked up at Scott who looked down at him. "Everyone said Gerard always had a plan." He looked at the oldest Argent. "I had a plan too." Gerard pulls his pill container from his pocket, pouring the blue and white capsules into his hand.

"No. No." At the Sheriff's station when Scott handed him the pill container, he had switched the real one for a replica. The new pills were made by Alan and Y/n by Scott's request and filled with mountain ash. Gerard crushes the pills in his hand. "Mountain ash!" He growls out. He falls to his knees as black blood starts to leak from his eyes, his nose, his ears. He gasps and looks up. He vomits black blood like a fountain and falls to his side.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Derek asked Scott.

"Because you might be an Alpha, but you're not mine."

Gerard struggles to lean on his elbows as he chokes up more black blood. "Kill them! KILL THEM ALL!" He commands before falling down again.

The kanima loosens its grip as it looks at Gerard's body. Allison takes the chance to elbow it in the face and it pushes her to the ground behind it.

The blue Jeep crashes through a door and runs right into the kanima. Stiles has his eyes tightly shut as he drove, Y/n bracing herself from the front and Lydia in the back. He peeks an eye open and looks at her. "Did I get him?"

"Uh-huh." She nods. Lydia shrieks when the kanima jumps on the hood.

Stiles flails back. "Whoa!" The kanima hisses and he screams. Y/n's eyes flash when she throws her hand forward, making the kanima fly back off of the car, giving the three teens time to get out of it. Y/n and Stiles scurried by Scott while Lydia went to stand in front of the kanima.

"Jackson! Jackson." She calls as the kanima stands in front of her. Y/n wants to run and pull her away, but she knows this will work. It has to. Lydia holds up the key to Jackson's house when the kanima went to swipe at her. Its claws are in the air, but it hesitates as it looks at the object. Jackson shifts back half way, taking the key from her fingers. His blue eyes move to Lydia's face. He lets his arm fall. He's back to himself. Jackson is back in control. He steps away from her.

A bad feeling rushed over Y/n, and her eyes widen when she senses Peter's, Derek's and even Jackson's intentions. "No!" She shouts just as he closes his eyes and offers himself up. Derek and Peter both impale him from the front and back. Jackson chokes and Lydia covers her mouth in shock with tears running down her cheeks. They release him and he starts to fall. Lydia catches him and eases him onto his knees.

Jackson looks in her eyes. "Do you- do you still..." He can barely get the words out, but she already knows.

"I do." She nods. "I do still love you. I do, I do still love you. I do." She cries. Jackson slumps forward onto her shoulder and she holds onto him. The key clatters to the ground. Lydia sobs. Allison takes Scott's hand for comfort. Y/n holds a hand over her mouth, a few tears staining her cheeks as Stiles takes her other hand in his. Lydia gently lays Jackson on the ground, the last of the kanima scales fading from his skin.

"Where's Gerard?" Allison suddenly asks, just noticing the man's disappearance.

"He can't be far." Chris assures.

Lydia stands up and wipes her face, turning and taking a few steps away from him. Y/n went to go to her when claws scratching against the cement echoed through the space. Everyone looked over as Lydia gasped a bit in shock and turned to face Jackson. Jackson's eyes opened, they glow blue. He rises from the ground, looks up to the ceiling, shifted, and roars. He is now a full fledged werewolf. He shifts back and looks at Lydia. She runs to him and they embrace each other.

Y/n huffs a small laugh of happiness, sniffling and wiping her eyes. Y/n looked at Stiles and noticed his own wet cheeks. When he saw her looking at him he sniffed and brushed it off. "He scratched my Jeep."

"Uh-huh. Sure." She teased. "Get over here, you big softie." She pulled him into a hug, burying her face into his neck. "Thank you for coming." She whispered.

"I promised, didn't I?" She smiled and touched the ring on her finger.

...

Stiles drives the Jeep up to the lacrosse field. He, Y/n, and Scott hop out. "So you really think she's gonna come back for you?" Stiles asks.

"Yeah, I know she is." Scott replies as they go around to the back and Stiles opens it. The boys pull out their lacrosse gear. "How are you two?"

"I'd say we're doing pretty great." Y/n smiles at her boyfriend who smiles back.

"I'm glad. I was wondering how long it'd take you guys to realize how you felt."

"Yeah, like you're the expert in relationships Mr. I-Dated-a-Hunter's-Daughter."

"Why don't you just help me make team captain like you promised there, big guy." Stiles interjected. Scott went to guard the goal while Stiles took position across from him. Y/n swooped in and stole a quick kiss from the boy before sitting a little behind and away from him. Stiles smiled at her and grabbed his lacrosse stick, setting down his bag and the bag of balls near his feet.

"Hey, you know what I just realized?" Scott asked. "I'm right back where I started."

"What do you mean?" Y/n tilts her head in question.

"I mean no lacrosse, no popularity, no girlfriend. Nothing."

"Hey! You still got us, dude." She gestures to herself and Stiles.

"I had you before."

"Yeah, and you still got us. Okay? It's a life fulfilled." Stiles says.

"Very."

Stiles scoops up a ball. "Now, remember, no wolf powers."

Scott nods. "Got it."

"No, I mean it. No super fast reflexes, no super eyesight, no hearing- none of that crap, okay?"

"Okay. Come on." He taps the goal poles.

Stiles gets ready to swing. "You promise?"

"Would you just take the shot already?" Scott gets ready to catch the ball, glancing up at Stiles with glowing eyes. Y/n smirks when she catches sight of them. Stiles takes the shot. Scott catches it swiftly.

"I said no wolf powers!" Y/n laughs.

Ch.25 (coming soon)

[thenightcallsme]

The Arcana: Julian's Route | Chapter 1

!! THIS STORY IS A DETAILED RETELLING OF THE ARCANA, INCLUDING PAID SCENES IN BOTH PROLOGUE AND JULIAN ROUTE. ALL CHARACTERS EXCEPT THE MC ARE PROPERTY OF THE ARCANA FRANCHISE !!

A/N: This is a reupload from my AO3 cause I want to branch out. Enjoy!!

Summary: In a small shop in Vesuvia lives Vivian Caelum, a student of the magical arts who works as a shopkeeper for her tutor, Asra Alnazar. Her name is not known in the streets as her master's is, nor does she have full control over her magic yet. But one night, there's a knock at her door; Vivian is needed at the palace to help Countess Nadia upon her personal wishes. Soon, what she thinks is a small task is something she would never have expected her magic to be used for: Vivian must find Count Lucio's murderer. Will she be able to track down the infamous murderer and finally put the Countess's years of restlessness to ease? Or will the killer captivate her in ways she can't explain? Is she even running after the right man? Something deeper than she thought is happening within her beloved city, and she's about to understand the vastness of the magical realms.

Pairing: Julian Devorak x Fem!Magician Reader

This Chapter Contains: mentions of blood and the slightest instance of violence

Word Count: 5,791

find the rest of the chapters in my masterlist here :)

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A smile, a brief hug; an exchange so short that we may as well not speak at all. That's how this always goes. Every time I wish it was different. Of course, it's a wish for a reason, a hope that never manifests despite however hard I could train my intentions on it.

“I'll miss you.”

I never hear those words I return. You would think I had earned even a small acknowledgement after all these years.

It's the dead of a cold moonless night. Distant stars struggle against the thick blanket of clouds, choking in their mist, drowning in the promise of rain. Dew has already set on the cobble streets beyond the cozy and cluttered walls of our home. It’s the perfect night to relish in the familiarity and comfort of home. Even in restlessness, my company persists. Everything about tonight overcomes any calling to seek something new. According to Asra, the beginning of a long journey could not come at a better time. His intriguing mauve eyes are wide and aware with vigour even at this time of night. An ungodly hour. Nothing about him tells me he thinks otherwise, wishes that he could get at least a few more hours’ worth of sleep curled up in the bed we are forced to share.

The sentiment is felt by me nonetheless. I make sure it doesn’t go unnoticed, willing every ounce of annoyance and fatigue into my aura. I know he can feel it. Not a moment goes by where he’s not infiltrating my aura with his magic, waiting with bated breath to sense change. Just making sure you aren’t overworking yourself, he’ll tell me when the shop is busy. Liar. He can’t admit that being unable to sense someone’s mood unnerves him. 

Unsurprisingly, Asra can only react to my mood in amusement, damn him. A faint chuckle sounds behind his full lips as I attempt to fix my hair again — my awful morning appearance does not ease any hilarity. My hair, which I pride myself in having perfect every waking moment, is in tangles, standing up where it should lay smoothly. My reflection in a passing hallway mirror was not exactly attractive.

“I have something for you," he says. They're not the words I want to hear, but my interest is piqued. “You can play around with them while I'm gone."

I raise a brow at him. "A gift? I have high hopes you know."

He chuckles, brushing a stray, stark white strand of hair from his tanned face. "It's just my tarot deck."

...His tarot deck? 

The tarot deck now extended towards me is the prized possession of the most powerful magician to walk Vesuvia’s streets, the one who happens to be making the offer. The bond he’s fostered with those carefully crafted cards is unparalleled; a bond even I could’t obtain with him. Asra has taught me his craft over the years. Often have I sifted my fingers through the deck, seeking its guidance, relishing in the spiritual and physical comfort they seem to hold. But beyond the occasional practise, they’ve never remained in my possession. Tarot cards are like familiars; they serve only the one they choose, and Asra has been chosen. 

He never parts with them, even on the simplest of errands. Tonight’s atmosphere tells me that he will not return for a while, and on these nights, I expect the cards to accompany him. And yet here he is, hand outstretched, waiting.

“You think I'm ready?” I say tentatively.

He smiles an adoring smile. "You know I can't answer that for you. You've made incredible progress, but you still won't let go of your doubt.”

I sense something in you, something worth harnessing, something worth subjecting to. …Something I have not felt in a long time. Those were the words Asra spoke two years ago on a night resembling this. Then, I had been his shopkeeper for almost a year after he saved me from a life on the streets. I did not believe him then, and even now, three years later, I am still doubtful. Of course, half of what he said was true. There was something in me, a pool of magic I had not yet bathed in.

Asra had known from the first moment he saw me dancing within a captivated crowd on a dirty market street. Only when he felt it begin to bubble and beg for release did he warn me. In many ways, Asra has brought me new beginnings to a life I once thought was meaningless. I’ve learnt myself and my abilities, and if someone asked me now how far I have waded into the pool, I’d tell them I’m consumed by it, dipping my head back to wet my hair and relishing the renewal. Asra, however, seems to think otherwise. I’ve only dipped my toes in, testing the waters like a kid on the beach at the first sign of summer. I trust Asra with my life, but I doubt this idea. 

My distrust that keeps me at the water’s edge; my greatest flaw.

“Do you think you're ready?” 

I pause, considering his words. “Well…why don't we ask the cards?"

"Excellent suggestion."

Asra leads me around the front counter and around the thick, purple curtains from the downstairs shop from the reading room. Around table sits in the middle of the room, worn wood draped beneath an embroidered lilac tablecloth. Besides the two wooden chairs on either side, the room is otherwise barren. Dim light from the street lamps shines from the grand window on the far wall. Spare shawls of dizzying patterns hanging from the walls, an attempt to bring life to the room. It works in all fairness.

I draw a chair opposite Asra and delicately sit down, sweeping the long skirts of my nightgown and robe to the side. 

"It has been a good while since we've practised," Asra points out.

"Because I've already perfected it?" I ask as I shuffle the cards, letting my intuition tell me when the order is right.

“Have you now?” Though Asra plays along, there's a genuine question in his words. "I mean, you are one gifted individual. I shouldn't have expected any less."

I snort. "Then let's not wait any longer."

He's always going on about how 'powerful' and 'gifted' I am. He paints me like another deity whose carved figure is on display in our shop, or one of the tarot cards themselves. That's an absurd comparison, I know. Sometimes I can't tell if he's encouraging my self-confidence, if he genuinely means it, or if he's just playing with me.

Smooth, cold scale brushes against the bare skin of my ankles, followed by a familiar hiss, low and seductive. The contact shoes away my wandering thoughts and a small smile tugs at my lips. We’re not alone.

The serpentine body cooling around my leg belongs to Faust, Asra's familiar. Rich lavender scales intertwine with milky white patterns and her plush underbelly. She acknowledges me with her beady red eyes, wearing the ever-present smile on her snout. Though she likes Asra the most, she’s always happy to see me, and I her. 

Faust retreats from me in search of her other half. She twists her way around Asra's colourful waistcoat and over his white button-up. She reaches his shoulders and nuzzles against the golden skin over his sharp collarbones with a hiss that almost sounds like a purr.

"If we're all here, then..." Asra strokes Faust lightly. "Let's begin."

Asra’s gaze follows my careful handiwork as I slip the cards through my fingers. Palpable energy hums beneath my skin, reverberating like a second heartbeat. Even Faust’s interest is piqued; her eyes follow the same path as Asra’s. Satisfied with the jumbled order, I tap the cards against the table and smooth their edges before I begin to draw.

Three cards lay face down on the tablecloth in a triangular formation. Facing the ceiling are circles of purple, pink and blue surrounding a heart. From the design sprouts golden stripes like rays from a childish drawing of the sun. Asra’s gaze flits between the three options as he determines what will benefit him. Slowly, his hand drifts to the second card, fingers gentle when flipping it over. The face of a cream-white owl staring back, its crimson eyes wide and feathered chest puffed.

"The High Priestess.”

"And what is she telling you?" Asra leans closer, expectant. "Is she speaking to you now?"

The meaning of the cards is never singular. While they follow a linear pattern, depending on the receiver, the message changes to suit them. Common readers rely on an inner catalogue of meanings and their intuition to decide which one. However, I am unlike a common reader found in street markets. My relationship with the cards is unique and unusual, similar to Asra’s. Each card whispers in my ear languages I cannot comprehend. The common human tongues are unfamiliar to them, their’s unfamiliar to I. And yet, the story could not be more clear. 

In my head, the High Priestess speaks, her voice rough and sultry and with an elegance unattainable by most. I let my mind blank, receiving her advice in its entirety.

"You've forsaken here."

Almost unnoticeably, Asra’s mouth twitches. "I have?"

"She calls to you, but you won't listen. Typical." I snort, earning a look from Asra. Though... "It's...frequent. Diligent. Asra, if you don't listen to her…"

There’s something in Asra’s eyes that, to me, is as incomprehensible as the language of the cards. It’s almost rigid or unsurprised, maybe both, but he looks away before I can understand. I almost open my mouth to ask him the matter—a stupid instinct. It's times like these that I wish I was as gifted as him at directing others. If only he was as open and willing to talk as I've always been.

A sudden sharp knock startles the two of us, breaking the heavy silence. Faust hisses and untangles herself from Asra to slither towards the door. A customer, perhaps. At this hour, though?

Asra's worried look is replaced with a smile. "Did you forget to put out the lantern again?"

I fold my arms. “Why does it always have to be my fault?”

"Well, you are the one whose job is to close shop."

"And you know those fire salamanders have gotten loose through town again," I counter, raising a brow. "Those pesky little things like to make my life inconvenient."

"Well, at least that's a good distraction. I can't stay any longer."

Does he have to go so soon? Asra slings his brown leather satchel over his shoulder and we head towards the back door. With a snap of his fingers, a thick red scarf materialises thread by thread, knitting itself together by the hands of someone unseen — another one of Asra Alnazar’s many talents. Following the scarf is a black hat that nestles over his curly white hair.

“Take care of yourself and the shop,” he says as he fixes the brim.

"Of course I will," I say.

"Well...until we meet again."

"Which you will make sure this time is soon."

He chuckles but says nothing, though I know there are words begging to be voiced. He parts the black curtains soundly and swiftly, slipping out the back door. The departure feels rushed, as always, like he’s been yearning for escape. Do I bore him? It hurts to consider, but I know it’s only a silly worry; an insecurity to fill the gaps he leaves behind.

I sigh, heading for the front door. It's all for the best, I suppose.

Right now I could be snuggling back into bed, stealing a few more hours of sleep with ample space thanks to Asra’s abrupt departure. It’s always abrupt, always at a terrible hour. Remaining unsaid are all the reasons he shouldn’t go, but when I’m never allowed to know his destination, how can I come up with a reasonable excuse? Now my only friend has disappeared as usual. Whenever I try to understand why, I’m shut down with desirable words and empty promises.

It will be quick. You won't even notice I'm gone. I promise I'll be back within a week.

He has yet to keep those promises. 

And, fine, he'll be away for just under a moon's cycle at best. But the fact that he can't tell me always burns a hole deep in my heart that I can never seem to heal. I would have thought that, after living with each other for years, equal trust would be established. He has all of mine, and I’m deceived to think I have any of his. I've only brushed the surface of who Asra really is.

There's another rap on the door, hurried and repetitive. Not just any customer, but an impatient one by the sound of it. I place my hands on the door and lean towards the peephole. This sort of hour does not motivate me to let just anyone in. Whoever stands at my door better be worth my time.

There's a mysterious figure standing beneath the glow of the lantern outside. The dim haze of orange light offers the unmistakable curves of a tall woman, features drowning beneath a dark purple robe and headscarf. Around her slim waist is a thick belt of gold and green designs. The gold shimmers proudly in the light. If she's from around this part of Vesuvius, it must be fake.

As her graceful hands twist together anxiously, I spot green and gold glints of rings on every finger. The jewellery, the finery of her robes and belt… The gold may be real. This is no ordinary customer. A wealthy one, at most. So I open the door, intrigued by the idea of her possible requests. Please let me buy new clothes this week, I plead silently.

The streets are solitary and cold behind the woman, glistening and slippery from early-morning dew. None of the shops are open yet, and none of their lamps are on. Of course, besides mine. Damn salamanders. 

"Forgive me for the hour, but..." The woman steps into the warmth of my shop. Her voice is rich and velvety, yet powerful, like marble disguised in silk. Her accent rings bells of familiarity in my mind. "...I will not suffer another sleepless night."

The strange woman gently lifts her glittering fingers to tug at the ends of her purple headscarf. The elegant cloth slips away revealing the visitor's face. As it falls to her hands, my breathing stops, my heart leaping to my throat. No way. No damn way.

"Please read the cards for me," she begs. "It has to be you.”

I can’t believe that before me, begging in a desperate voice that otherwise knows no authority, is Nadia Satrinava, the Countess of Vesuvia.

Long locks fall graciously in a cascade of violet, brushing the countess’s straight shoulders and framing the sharp angles of her face. A small jewelled headdress of pearls and emeralds sits against the smooth brown skin of her forehead. The gown hugging her body is utter magnificence, crafted meticulously from expensive silks and lace, cinched at her waist by a thick golden belt. 

Desperation swims in her crimson eyes, her full, red lips pressed into a thin line. I drink her in greedily like a starved dog; the straightness of her small nose, her high cheekbones and sharp jaw, the delicate makeup on her eyelids, her regal posture. She’s everything I could only dream of being. Her voice alone is enough to evoke envy, the jewels on her bony collar almost calling to every thief in town.

"I—wh—you've come to the right place." I stumble over my words inelegantly, almost cowering from the instant regret.

"So I'm told. Your reputation precedes you. Beggars and nobles alike..." She cocks her head as she takes me in, inspecting me like I'm the newest jewel in her collection. "The people of this city whisper your name in wonder like you're a deity."

I try to school my face into indifference, but I wonder if the way my eyes widen a fraction deceives me. My name? In wonder, like I'm a deity? But only Asra has treated me like such. I don't even think he’s serious.

"Though in my dreams you were different." She laughs. "No matter. I've come with a proposal."

"A proposal?" I repeat.

She searches me again, smiling. "Not very talkative, are you? Nervous, perhaps? You needn't be. I require very little of you."

I bow my head, my dark brown hair sweeping over my shoulder. Anything. Anything for the countess of Vesuvia. I say as much. "Anything, my lady."

"In that case, be my guest at the palace for a short while."

Breathe.

I've forgotten how to. Forgotten how to lift my chest to let air in. Forgotten how to even move. What use would I be to Countess Nadia? If anything, Asra should be the one. Asra should be...

Something hits me like a brick to the face. She saw me differently in a dream, hinted that my face was not the one she'd match to the card reader she sought out. She said the city spoke my name in wonder. Yet, she hasn't said my name. She only knows where to find her dream magician.

Asra is her dream magician. He has to be. My master is like a living, breathing spell book, his name carried through the wind of towns like he’s the holy one, not me. I should have asked. Why has this sudden selfishness gripped me so hard that I can't think? This could be my moment to finally be more than I am, finally live up to the powerful magician Asra depicts me as.

Besides, he isn't here.

I know I'm going to regret taking his place, but...

"You will be afforded every luxury, of course," the countess adds, as if afraid I wouldn't take the deal. Luxury; I've never lived in such an environment, never worn something to that standard. I suddenly feel very self-conscious of the old nightgown I wear and pull the flimsy robe closer. "I ask only that you bring your skill. And the Arcana."

The cards. Asra couldn’t have left them to me at a better time.

"I am at your service, Countess," I say with as little overexcitement as possible. "Whatever you need."

"You have chosen wisely, magician," she says. "I will alert the guards to expect you tomorrow. I want to see those talents of yours for myself."

"Tomorrow?" God, I hope what Asra has taught me is enough to keep up the expectations.

She nods. "Of course. What better than to start as soon as possible? Now shall we do that reading?"

Just like that, my heart drops once more. A reading, right now before the countess herself? I'm not trained enough for this, not trusting enough in my skills to get it one hundred percent right. The fear of making a mistake and giving her false expectations grows. What if I give her advice she shouldn't even take into consideration? Asra would kill me if he found out; in fact, I can already hear his words echoing in my mind.

You know better than this, Vivian.

I do know better than this. And yet my lips still betray any morality. "Certainly, my lady."

The countess strides past me, heels tapping against the wooden floor as she makes her way to the reading room. I reach into the pocket of my robe, the familiar, smooth edges of the cards greeting my fingertips.

The countess takes the seat beneath the window. The dim light shines in from behind her, projecting an eerie crown of light behind her silk hair. Her back is straight, face unwavering. I try and somehow succeed in sitting in my chair without a tremor in my hands.

Her gaze flickers around the room as I place the cards between us. What must she think of the place? I only know her public image, kind and generous and considerate, yet still removed and distant. Maybe the countess isn't all as she seems—maybe she feels detested and uncaring for the lesser portion of Vesuvia. Whatever thoughts the state of the shop bring forward are unreadable.

"Go on," she prompts.

I shuffle the deck as I did only minutes ago with Asra. The cards slip through my fingers, merging and separating easily as Countess Nadia's gaze presses on me. I set out three cards as my magic sings to me, telling me that they're in the right places. The countess hums to herself as her crimson eyes flicker over the face-down cards, weighing her options as her long, slim fingers drift close. I can almost see the third card's pull towards her as she flips it over.

Greeting her is a human-like, grey wolf with eyes of lavender. Asra’s eyes. A robe the colour of plums is draped over its shoulders, one of its black, clawed hands held out to lift the crudely carved wooden wands around its head with magic. Fire burns angrily in the foreground.

"The Magician," I explain. There the cards are, whispering intimately in my ears. "You have a plan. One that's long—years upon years—in the making. Now, you seek to set it in motion."

Even though I doubted myself, that flicker in her eyes couldn’t be a clearer sign. I know, I do, it seems to say. The Magician being the one to tell her is so tells me something else: she needs me—or Asra—to do so.

"And? Should I move?" Countess Nadia asks impatiently. She leans forward, eager and expectant.

I close my eyes, letting the darkness behind my eyelids beckon me forward. Those whispers... "Yes. The cards say you should move forward as everything is in place."

"Say no more." She sits back slightly, drawing in a deep breath having heard what she needed.

She has thrown the curtains back, striding purposely back to the shop before I'm even on my feet. The cards almost seemed to shout at me this time, desperate to get their message across. Possibly a warning. Maybe the lady of Vesuvia knows that already.

What is she planning?

I spring to my feet and hurry after her. How improper would it have been if I had just let the countess find her way out herself? I push the velvet curtains and enter the front shop where Countess Nadia brushes her hand across a cleanly kept Bonsai tree on the glass countertop. She retracts her hand like a recoiling snake as she hears my approach.

"Your fortunes are simple. Much the same as the others I've heard." Her look of dismay washes away to something else far away. The dismay travels to me; I'm not the first she's sorted out and not the first to tell her the same thing. ...She's going to decline my help. "And yet...you are the first to pique my interest."

I don't dare lose my breath of relief as the countess makes quick work of tying her headscarf. Either her intuition is strong or she's losing hope, but whatever I did differently, whatever I did right, it worked.

I meet and hold her sharp gaze as I plant my feet, unmoving as she reaches the door. Everything I've said in our encounter comes rushing back to me, and I realise how submissive I've been. Cowardly, quiet, yielding. That isn't who I am, and not who I want the countess of Vesuvia to think of me as. Never will I stutter, be quiet and shy. I will be brave, confident. My own person.

I will carve my name into Vesuvia's streets, houses, rivers.

So I do not move to open the door for her. I don't break her gaze. I don't speak first. To my surprise, the countess looks vaguely amused as she opens the door, bathing the floor in faint moonlight behind her tall silhouette.

"Until tomorrow, then. Rest well," she says, uninterested. “And try not to be too shocked by what I will ask of you."

With that, she disappears into the tranquil, abandoned streets of Vesuvia beneath the blanket of night. For a moment, I'm frozen in the doorway, my shoulder leaning against the frame as I watch her figure. Either to make sure she's safe or because I'm still a little bemused, I can't tell.

I eventually shut the door, clicking the lock closed. This will definitely have to be a night to remember. Though, I don't understand how she did mistake me for—

"Strange hours for a shop to keep."

Ice shoots through my veins, a stark opposition to the warm feeling of magic beneath my skin. The voice is deep, masculine, foreign. Magic curls in my fingertips, but though I've been trained to kill if I have to, it drains my power. One wrong move and I’m left stunlocked.

But someone has broken in. It might be unavoidable.

I spin around, a scowl on my face as I search the shadows, trying to chase a figure from the dark. I find nothing lurking against the curtains, behind displays, but I can feel the thrum of a human heartbeat in the room's atmosphere. Where, is the question.

"Show yourself," I demand with a snarl.

"...Behind you."

I whirl around, letting light burst from my fingertips to find the owner of the mysterious voice. Light pours over the wooden floors, the collection of carpets, the array of products and spell ingredients and crystals to be sold. It drives the shadows from the deepest crevices of the shop. Sure enough, I see a figure looming against the grand oak door. I can tell by the amusement in his voice that this seems like a game.

The figure is extremely tall and lean, yet there is some undeniable muscle to him. All he wears are dark pants tucked into black boots, a shirt buttoned to his throat, gloves, and a black coat lined with red that is slung lazily over his shoulders. There is no hint of facial features, as all that stares back at me is a white plague mask with glazed red goggles. The only distinguishing feature visible is a head of wild auburn hair.

The intruder folds his arms lazily. "Now, sources say this is the witch's lair."

Witch… A loaded word. It’s somewhat of a slur in this end of the world. "What's it to you."

"Oh, that doesn't matter." The figure steps closer. "So who might you be?"

My heart quickens as he takes another step. "Who's asking?"

My back hits the shelf of glass bottles hard as I take a step back too fast. I don't falter, though, realising that it would be an opening if I were to let it startle or distract me. So I keep eye contact as a bottle tips off the shelf and shatters in an eruption of glass. The shards scatter before my bare feet and I wince, afraid to take another step.

The figure takes another step, then another, until the sound of boots crunching against glass fills my ears. I wish that they pierced the thick leather, wish it distracted him to—

Then an idea springs to mind as my finger brushes against the last standing bottles. The man leans down to level his masked face with mine. He tilts his head to the side curiously. 

“I'm asking. I'd rather not do it agai—"

My fingers grasp the neck of the bottle hard and I swing. It meets its target true, hitting the side of the mask against the buckle that holds it tight. A rain of glass explodes from the impact.

"Why you—"

He stumbles back, gloved hands coming to clutch the side of his face as he turns away. The buckle of the plague mask unclasps, leather giving way as it joins the array of glass. Blood drops on the ground like liquid rubies, slipping through his gloved fingers as he clutches a wound.

The stranger whirls around, a maniacal grin on his face. "A feisty one. How intriguing."

His skin is so pale he must hardly see the sun. Light grey eyes hold mine with untamed wrath, dramatically dark circles beneath from a lack of sleep. No, only one eye looks back to me—the other is covered by his auburn hair and an eyepatch. Déjà vu hits me at the sight of his face.

"Well, I can tell by the look on your face..." he wipes away the blood that traces the outline of his sharp, high cheekbones. "Shock. Horror. You know who I am, don't you?"

I...I do know him, but I've never seen his face in person. His name is so far away, locked away somewhere deep in the maze of my mind. If only I could find it, grasp it—

"Doctor Jules," I breathe.

His eyes widen a second. 

“‘Doctor Jules’? I haven't heard that one in a while." He recomposes his features into a scowl. "Now hurry up. Where is the witch?"

“Like hell I'd tell you!" I hiss. "You really think I’d sell him out?"

"And here I thought we could keep things civil." He towers over me, chilling the air around us. A drop of his blood hits my bare collarbone, his eyes following the glint of red to slither down my exposed chest. "Well, if you won't tell me where the witch is...won't you at least tell me my fortune?”

"Absolutely not. What interest do I have in reading your cards?"

A smile. A step closer. God, now his face is level with mine.

"I'm afraid you have no choice, darling."

He reaches up a hand to my face. Gloved fingers strike along my jaw, leaving a chill in their wake. It sparks a rage that courses through my veins. Disgusted, I grab his wrist. My anger manifests as a soft sizzle sounds from his glove. He flinches as my touch grows hot.

"If you want to walk out of here," I say with slowly, "with just that little gash and no city patrol alerted, keep them to yourself. I assume you don't want this to turn out messy."

His eyes flicker as he snatches his hand away. "Duly noted. Now do them on the counter. I don't want to have to waste my time chasing you down if you try to escape."

Heeding his words with much hesitance, I slip around him and approach the glass counter with fists clenched so tight I expect to find crescent moons in my palm. My magic thrums and coils tightly as I draw the cards from my pocket to shuffle them for the third time tonight. Don't let your hands shake, I tell myself softly. Don't let him see that you're afraid. Back straight, chin high, eyes unwavering.

So I keep my back straight, levelling the intruder with an iron-clad stare. The cards slipping and weaving through my fingers is therapeutic and comforting when my own home feels like a cage.

"Lovely decor," the doctor says all-to-cheerfully. I almost wince at the normality "Reminds me of the good old days."

I don't reply as I set the cards down. His cold, grey eye moves over them, stopping on the second pile. Curious, he flips it over.

The card shows a horses’ head looking sideways, a silky mane falling over its neck like a muddied waterfall. Though, there is no skin baring the horses. Instead, my eyes fall in the bare skull of the animal. There's a blackened hand reaching forward, holding a scythe. Death.

The Death card does not entail physical death. It symbolises paths coming to an end whether through failure or natural causes and encourages self-awareness. Upright, it is a common card for the awareness of endings. But reversed like it is now...I don't pull it often. Reversed, it means depressive emotions, resistance, unawareness, and illness. The voices whisper its meaning to the doctor in my ear, but I can't focus enough on them to understand. I don't think I want to. It's almost ironic to pull this card for the doctor, but I struggle to find humour in it.

“‘Death’?” he says, reading the cards’ title aloud. The doctor barks an uncontrollable laugh, as cold and harsh as biting on ice. "You've got to be joking."

I jolt as his fist slams on the counter, the glass thankfully holding firm. I look away, wanting to cave in on myself. A madman...I'm trapped in my own house with a madman. He laughs again as he stands up. The sound is cold and void and horrifying.

He says coldly, "Death cast her gaze on this wretch and turned away. She has no interest in an atrocity like me."

"That's not what it means," I counter. He completely ignores me.

"Well, you've been very hospitable," he starts, and I try not to gawk. Hospitable? When he broke into my home? "So I'll let you in on a little secret. Your witch friend has taught you his tricks, hasn't he? He isn't the type of person to share his secrets, so I could say he possibly cares for you. But when he returns..."

He bends down and picks up the plague mask from the floor. His eye fixes on the glassy crimson goggles with a faraway look.

"Seek me out. For your own sake. That creature is far more dangerous than you know."

I'm lost for words for a moment. "Seek you out? For my own sake as if I'm in danger? You broke into my house, threatened me, and insulted my master, and you expect me to go prancing around the streets of Vesuvia to find you of all people? All because you're trying to paint Asra as a threat? What do you even want!?"

He grins. "You just like a little deer lost in the woods, aren't you?"

"Wha—"

"I have my reasons," he says, cutting me off. "And they aren't of your concern if you aren't going to cooperate. And I suggest you keep our little encounter from your dear old master if you want to stay in his good graces."

I purse my lips into a thin line. "Get out."

Thankfully, the doctor doesn't need to be told twice. He fastens the mask over his head. "I suppose the hour is late and I've stayed longer than I wanted to. Don't let him fool you, girl."

"You know I have a—" The door slams behind him and the doctor disappears into the early morning mist. “—name.”

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

[nvvermore]

Idle Worship

The apprentice seeks Amaryllis’s help in the investigation

[the lovers]

words: 1.5k

cw: none

accompaniment

-☽☼☾-

A whole afternoon socializing with the courtiers leaves me exhausted. Even after Nadia retired for the evening, the group still demanded my attention, with no way to escape, until Portia finally came along to distract them.

We walk through the halls and chat for a little while, Portia doing most of the talking about whatever little things happened around the Palace today. When there’s a short lull in the conversation, I take my chance.

“When do you think Amaryllis will show up? To court, I mean.”

Portia gives me a knowing smirk. “They really caught your eye, huh? They’ll do that to you. As for showing up, good luck. Since I've been here, they only really leave their quarters to hunker down in the music room.”

“Do you know why?”

“Not really, I've tried to get them to open up— they’re pretty friendly to me— but I got nothing. Apparently they've been like that since before I showed up.” Portia explains. “Staff who have been here longer than me say that it all started after the Count’s death. Some say it was in mourning, some say it was out of guilt, but no one has a concrete explanation as to why.”

“But before they weren't like that?”

“Apparently not. Before, they were one of the biggest names in Vesuvia thanks to their music. Anyone who was anyone wanted to see them perform, whether it was at the opera or down in the South End at some dive. Their contributions to the city, from their art to their aid during the plague, were well documented. And then it just stops.”

“Their aid?”

“They were treating the sick. Their music has a magical quality, it was rumored that they were able to create a song that healed people. On top of that, they took anything they made financially and funneled most of it back into the city. The Count and the courtiers hated them for it.”

Everything starts to make sense to me as Portia explains. I need Amaryllis to get to the bottom of all this. I can't wait a second longer.

“Do you know where I can find Amaryllis now?”

“Probably the music room, but they really don't like to be disrupted while they're working in there.” Portia glances up at the clock on the wall as the two of them pass by. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go check on the Countess. But please, don't go and bother Amaryllis, okay? Cause I’ll end up hearing all about it.” She bids me farewell with a quick side-hug, dashing down the hall towards what must be the Countess’s wing.

All alone for the first time in forever, I take it upon myself to wander the palace halls, looking for any sign of the songstress.

It’s already been a long day, and I haven't even had time to recover from yesterday.

Julian breaking into the shop again, the masquerade announcement, whatever happened with Asra at the fountain. It’s all been so much, compared to just a few days ago when all I had to worry about was tarot readings and restocking shelves. But something in me tells me not to stop now.

I stroll down the halls, admiring the craftsmanship of everything from the delicately carved moldings on the ceiling to the art hung on the walls, making turn after turn, getting lost in the maze of the Palace.

Eventually, one more turn brings me to a dead end, with a set of large, carved double doors at the end of it. From behind them, I can hear a soft melody being played on the piano. It’s enchanting, and strangely familiar, and I can't help but follow the sound until I’m against the door, just trying to hear the music clearly.

l’m so lost in the melody that I don't notice the door opening until I’m practically falling into the room. A few discordant notes are hit and the music stops, and I look up to find Amaryllis, the court musician, behind the piano, quickly standing from their place at the bench.

“Can I help you?” they ask, their gaze sharp as the grimace at me.

“I’m sorry, I was just—“

“Barging in on me? The least you could have done was knock.”

“The music… It was just so…”

“It was nothing.” Amaryllis studies me for a moment longer, before sitting back down on the bench. “Now, if you'll excuse me.”

I watch as they position their fingers on the keys, preparing to play once more.

“Why are you still here?”

I take a few steps closer to the piano. “Actually. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh really?” they ask, with a mild air of annoyance. I ignore it.

“Yes. From what Portia and the Countess have mentioned, you've been here at the Palace a long time.” Amaryllis keeps their head down, focusing on the keys as I speak. “Were you there the night the Count was murdered?”

They slam the cover down, rising once more. “Why do you need to know?” they ask, a strange amount of ire directed at me.

“I’m sure you know by now why the Countess has invited me here. I’m just doing my due diligence to track down Doctor Devorak.”

“If you were truly trying to bring him in, you would already know he’s back in the city.”

Amaryllis knows?

They stare me down, towering over me, eyes cold and accusing. Their demeanor is enough to make me lose the small shred of confidence I had.

“I— I haven't been able to pin him down just yet. I need help.” I plead, but the way Amaryllis regards me doesn't change.

“Strange. It doesn't take much to pin him down. Last I checked he was just begging for retribution.” There's an inkling of disdain in their tone— not as much as there is when Asra talks about him— but it’s enough for me to pick up on the negative feelings they have about Julian.

“The Countess told me that you once made it your mission to know everything going on in the city.” I mention, trying a different approach to get through to them.

“She must have neglected to mention that my services come with a price.”

“Why didn't she just ask you to find him if you know so much?”

“She did. And I told her no. And I’ll tell you the same thing.”

I can't quite figure out Amaryllis’s motive. It’s not love, like Portia. It’s not justice, like Nadia. They’re similar to Asra, but withholding what they know has nothing to do with protection. Once I figure it out, maybe they’ll give me something.

“What if I don't ask you to find him? What if I just ask you to help me find the truth?”

“The truth?” they scoff.

“Of what happened that night. I have a feeling you might be the only one who really knows.”

“Even if I do know, I can't tell you.”

“Why? Are you protecting yourself? Are you guilty?”

From behind their veil, Amaryllis’s hard expression cracks, for just a split-second. Had I blinked, I would have missed the subtle downturn of their lips, full of regret.

Was Amaryllis somehow the Count’s killer? Going undetected within the walls of the Palace all these years? I don't want to believe it, but everything they say only pushes me closer to the conclusion.

They take a deep breath, letting it out with an audible sigh, arms dropping down to their side. “Lucio was a horrible man and leader. He deserved worse than what happened to him. My greatest regret is that it wasn't under my hands that he suffered.”

“I’m not very inclined to believe you if you won't even tell me anything.”

“Why would I let you shed unnecessary light on his death?” Amaryllis’s voice raises into a shout. “So that his spirit can rest easy? So the people can suffer some more as we dredge up another spectacle about it? Making everyone he victimized relieve it all over again? I don't think so.”

It finally hits me then.

Vengeance.

“Portia told me you used to do everything to aid the people. You were actively assisting and donating all of your salary during the plague. I know you cared once. Tell me so that the people can have closure. So you can. So that Julian doesn't end up as the Count’s last victim. Don't let your hate for him overpower your love for this city.”

“You don't know me,” they spit.

“I feel like I do.” It’s true, somehow.

Suddenly, Amaryllis turns, gathering up the pages of music that were spread out upon the piano. They brush past me, heading for the door.

“I hope you find what you're looking for, but it won't be from me.” Amaryllis says, not bothering to address me directly.

And with that, they're gone. The receding sound of their heels is the only sign that they were ever here.

[starbright18]

LUNATIC

☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.

"You sure you're ready to go back?" Dad asked softly, sitting across from me at the table while I ate my bowl of cereal. Between the breakup-that-wasn't-really-a-breakup-because-we-weren't-actually-together, the full moon, wanting to kill my friends, and stress about Derek potentially being dead, I felt drained. But I forced myself to push past it, putting in my usual pre-school effort of makeup and a cute, flowy dress with chunky booties. Look good, feel good, right?

"Yeah, I think," I mumbled.

"Do you want to stay home? Because you can." He raised his eyebrows at me. It was Monday, and I hadn't been to school since Wednesday night. The school was closed Thursday, and dad didn't let Stiles and me out of the house Friday. Not that I blamed him, both of his kids were almost brutally murdered. 

"I didn't put in this much effort to stay home, dad." I deadpanned. 

"Then we can...we can go to lunch like we used to?"

"You really don't want me to go back, huh?"

"I don't want either of you out of my sight." He admitted, eyeing Stiles when he walked down the stairs. 

"If I don't go, I can't play in the game this week." I pointed out. "And we both know, there's no way I'm gonna miss the game."

"Fair enough."

"Plus, Stiles and I have an economics test today."

"Then get going." Dad sighed. I nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek before I jogged out the door, Stiles following suit. 

"How are you feeling today, with the...you know?" Stiles asked once we were out of the house. 

"Nervous," I breathed out. "Angry. My first full moon and I'm heartbroken and angsty."

"Do you wanna...kill me?"

"Not yet," I grinned widely. "But I might if we don't stop for iced coffee."

"I hate you."

"I love you too, Sti."

☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.

In the classroom, I sat next to Allison in the front. Stiles was in the back of the room since Harris insisted on having us separated, but I wasn't too upset since I got to whisper to Allison about our life drama while the classroom filled. When I glanced at the door, Scott was walking in. He walked to my desk quickly, staring down at me with hurt in his eyes. 

"Margo—"

"Mr. McCall, please take a seat," Harris ordered, leaning onto my desk to get in Scott's face. Scott obliged, taking a seat in front of Stiles. "You have 45 minutes to complete the test. 25% of your grade can be earned right now simply by writing your name on the cover of the blue book." Immediately, I scribbled out my name. "However, as happens every year, one of you will inexplicably fail to put your name on the cover, and I'll be left yet again questioning my decision to ever become a teacher. So, let's get the disappointment over with. Begin."

I opened my booklet, looking over all of the questions before flipping back to the first page and beginning to run through the questions. I studied for this exam all weekend and therefore flew through, finishing the first page of questions within 10 minutes. It was around then that Scott suddenly stood, rushing out of the room. 

"Mr. McCall!" Harris called out. Stiles followed closely behind Scott. "Mr. Stilinski!"

"Jesus," I mumbled. I assumed Scott's senses were going crazy, much like mine were. I forced myself to pretend like my problems didn't exist while I continued to rush through my exam. As much as I wanted to follow the boys, I knew my grades had to come first. Now struggling to focus, I finished just before the time was up. When I placed my test on Harris' desk, I gave him a sheepish smile. "I don't suppose you'd let me stand in for Stiles and take his test for him."

"Not a chance, Ms. Stilinski."

☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.

After school, I stood in the women's locker room alone to change. I ditched my dress and boots, swapping them out for track shorts, and my jersey with my pads. I forgot my lacrosse shorts, but I wasn't sure that Coach would even notice. 

Before I entered the men's room, I took three deep breaths. I wasn't really prepared to be in a room with Scott, Jackson, and Greenberg, but I had to if I wanted to be clued in on the announcements.  When I entered, I chose to stand by myself behind Stiles, refusing to meet anybody's eyes.

"Alright, geniuses, listen up." Coach blew his whistle when he entered. "Due to the recent pink eye epidemic—thank you, Greenberg—the following people have made first line on a probationary basis. Emphasis on the word 'probationary'." Stiles looked around in shock at Coach's announcement. "Rodriguez. Welcome to first line. Taylor, and uh—oh for the love of crap, I can't even read my own writing. What is that, an 'S'?" Stiles tensed. "No, no, that's not an 'S'. That's—that's a 'B'. That's definitely a 'B'. Uh, Rodriguez, Taylor, and Bilinski."

"Yeah! Whaa! Woo-hoo! Yeah, haha!" Stiles cheered, raising to his feet and throwing his arm up in victory. I high-fived him, my smile just as wide as his. This was something he had always wanted, and he was finally getting it. 

"Bilinski!" Coach frowned. 

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"Yes, sir." Stiles sat back down beside Scott, still grinning. 

"Stiles," Scott whispered. 

"It's Biles. Call me Biles, or I swear to God I'll kill you." He threatened. I smiled, placing my hand on his shoulder.

"Another thing," Coach announced. "From here on out, immediately, we're switching to co-captains. Congratulations, McCall!" 

"What?" Jackson growled. I smiled down at Scott, proud of his new status. 

"Jackson, this takes nothin' away from you." Coach dismissed. "This is about combining separate strengths into one unit. This is about taking your unit, McCall's unit, we're making one big unit. McCall, it's you and Jackson now. Everybody else," He blew his whistle. "Asses on the field! Asses on the field!" 

"I'll see you out there," I told Stiles, turning to leave the room.

"Stilinski!" Coach called out. "Where's your uniform?"

"I forgot my shorts, Coach."

"You forgot them?"

"I—I bled in them, you know, time-of-the-month, and—"

"Nope, stop." He shuddered. "Just—just get an extra pair and change, then get out on the field." I nodded. He tossed me a spare pair from his office and I left the locker room, retreating into the girl's room next door. Once the door was closed, I stood in front of my locker and stripped down, realizing I had forgotten to change into a sports bra as well. I may not have had much in the chest area, but the last thing I needed on top of everything else was sore boobs.

In nothing more than my underwear and a sports bra, I allowed myself a moment to pause and take a deep breath. I had been fighting my urges all day, struggling to control the shift in the wake of the full moon approaching. It would be my first, and I wasn't sure exactly what I would do, which scared me. I did plan to see Deaton eventually, against Stiles' wishes. I wasn't sure what we had to discuss, but he seemed to know about more than he let on, something that intrigued me. 

"Margo," a voice breathed from behind me causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. I whirled around to find Scott standing just inside the door, looking at me in confusion.

"Scott," I nodded, reaching down to grab my jersey to cover my chest. "What are you doing?"

"I—I just wanted to talk to you. I needed to talk to you."

"Well, you're in here now, so," I laughed softly. "Go ahead."

"Do you—do you still like me?"

"Of course I do, Scotty." I sighed, dropping my hands to my sides. Despite me being half-naked, Scott's eyes never left my face. "I love you, you know that. We just can't...be together, not right now."

"Why not?"

"Why no—Scott, you and Allison just broke up. And don't try to give me some crap about how you don't love her, because I know you do. And—and then you go and you tell me you love me days after you guys split, and then you kiss her—"

"She kissed me."

"Still, Scott! It's like—it's like you're playing with my head, and I can't do that. I won't do that. I won't be your backup plan or the girl you run to just because your other relationships fail."

"You're not my backup plan," He asserted, taking a large step toward me. 

"Yeah? Then what am I, Scott? Because I definitely feel like your second option." I scoffed. 

"How can I prove to you that you're not my second option, that you're more than that?" His heart was racing, as was mine. While we held eye contact, I felt my control slipping. His eyes were growing darker by the second, and I knew his control was losing the battle as well. I took a step forward, pressing our chests together while our eyes stayed locked. 

"Show me." My words seemed to be the invitation he was waiting for. Immediately, his hands gripped the sides of my face, pulling me into him. Our mouths crashed roughly, desperate pants coming from both of us. My hands knotted in his hair, pulling softly on the ends while he walked me backward until my back hit the lockers. In an instant, his hands left my face and trailed down my body.

"Jump," he ordered. He bent down slightly and as soon as I felt his hands hit the backs of my thighs, I jumped, allowing him to hold me up against the lockers. Our lips never separated and one of his hands left my thigh to squeeze my butt before traveling up, squeezing my breast. I moaned into his mouth, something that seemed to make him lose even more control. He broke the kiss, allowing his lips to trail down the side of my neck, sucking and biting all of the skin he could access. I threw my head against the locker and sighed, digging my nails into his shoulder. We didn't break apart until my phone dinged from my bag. 

"Oh, my God," I mumbled, pushing Scott back gently. He dropped me to my feet and I scrambled away, pulling on my lacrosse gear and grabbing my stick and helmet. "Oh, my God." I ran out without saying another word and I didn't stop until we reached the field. I threw my helmet on almost immediately, avoiding Stiles completely. He talked to Scott for a moment before the whistle was blowing, the players being called out to the field. 

I was in front of Scott in the line for drills, my focus on the players in front of me while they each lined up, taking a run at the two defenders who guarded Danny in goal. When it was my turn, I felt myself losing control. Still, I pushed through, scooping up a ball just before Coach blew the whistle. As soon as the noise ended, I took off, sprinting right at both defenders. Just before I reached them, I leaned my feet on my right foot before using it to push off, stepping left around them. I brought the lacrosse stick around my back to move it between my hands, ducking low under the arms of number '5'. When I popped up, I leaned my weight into my throw, launching my ball into the goal where it flew just passed Danny's head with a satisfying 'thunk 'when it hit the net. 

"That's what I like to see, Stilinski!" Coach screamed out. "That's what I like to see. Let's go, next up. McCall." I jogged out of the way, standing by Stiles. Scott took off at the sound of the whistle, running toward the defensive line much as I had. He wasn't fast enough, though, since they teamed up and smacked him to the ground. "Guess some people don't appreciate your new status, McCall." Coach teased, leaning over him. "Who's next? Let's go."

"You got this, Stiles." I grinned through my helmet, patting him on the back. Scott pushed up off his back, launching to his feet. 

"You got a problem with that, Bilinski?" Coach called out. Stiles shook his head and scooped up a ball just before Scott approached, shoving Stiles back with his lacrosse stick. I let out a low warning growl, stepping just in front of Stiles. "That's it, McCall! That's the spirit! You earn it! Earn it, McCall!" Stiles looked dejected while he watched Scott take his place. I frowned, finding myself unable to calm down. I ripped my helmet off, drawing in deep breaths. Scott ran forward, roughly shouldering both defensive players individually before approaching Danny and smacking him in the face with his lacrosse stick.

"Danny!" I gasped, sprinting away from Stiles. I stood over Danny, eyeing his bloody nose through his face shield while the rest of the team approached, followed closely by paramedics. Scott and Stiles removed their helmets, walking away from the team. 

"Dude, what the hell are you doing?" I snapped at Scott.

"He's twice the size of me!" He defended. 

"Yeah, but everybody likes Danny." Stiles retorted. "Now everybody's gonna hate you."

"I don't care."

"Margo, your uh—your lipstick." Stiles nodded down at my face. I quickly wiped the back of my hand across my mouth but it was too late once Stiles noticed the similar color stain on Scott's lips as well. Fucking shit. 

☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.☾*✲⋆.

After practice I returned home, not wanting to face my brother or Scott until after the full moon was over and my emotions were back under control. Dad was at work and Stiles had gone to chain Scott up, leaving me in my bedroom writhing on the floor in pain while I fought the shift. Stiles had only left me when I assured him I would be at Scott's closer to the full moon, which was in fact my original plan, but now it seemed like I wouldn't be able to go anywhere without transforming and going total murder-wolf on everyone. Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Go away, Stiles," I growled lowly, a scream of pain making its way out as well. "I'm fine, I'll meet you at Scott's." Knock. Knock. Knock. "I said go away, Stiles!" I fought my way to my feet, stumbling over to the door as the knocking continued. "Stiles, knock it off! I swear—" When I threw open the door, I was met with a ghost. Or at least, someone who should've been a ghost. With a loud gasp, I slammed the door in Derek Hale's face. 

"Well, that was rude," he grumbled, pushing the door open and stomping in. "And do I look like Stiles?"

"You look like someone who is supposed to be dead." I snapped, moving to sit on my dead. "You're dead. You—God, I didn't know the full moon caused fucking hallucinations."

"It can," He deadpanned. "But I'm not dead."

"You are! I—I watched you get impaled and thrown across the parking lot. I scrubbed your blood off of my face for over an hour. You are dead."

"Margo, you're looking at me. How can I be dead if you can see me?"

"Maybe seeing spirits come with my clairvoyance." I snapped. With an eye roll, he grabbed one of my shoes from the floor and launched it at my face. I caught it just before it made contact, looking at the older man in confusion. "You—you died. I felt it when we were in the school. It was like...it was like our connection snapped."

"Did you stop to think about the fact that the reason the connection snapped was probably because you were forcing your mind to believe I was dead?"

"I didn't believe you were dead," I stood to my feet. "I argued with Stiles all night that you were alive."

"No, your heart didn't think I was dead. But what did your head think?" 

"My head thought that I knew you were in trouble yet I still couldn't save you."

"And what else?"

"I don't know!" I growled, beginning to feel irritated with his questions. With a groan, I dropped to the floor from the edge of my bed onto my knees, allowing my claws to dig into the carpet. 

"There's something else. What else did you feel?" He crossed his arms, eyeing me carefully. 

"I don't know!" My voice came out in a loud roar. "Stop asking me questions!"

"You need to remember, Margo. What did you feel the night at the school? And the night of parent-teacher conferences? Think." With another snarl I was on my feet, rushing toward Derek with my claws raised. He didn't flinch but simply raised an eyebrow, grabbing my hand just before it struck his face. 

"Don't ever do that again." He warned, pointing his finger at my face. In another fit of rage, I lifted my other arm to strike him. He caught this one as well, throwing me back to the floor. That only seemed to make me angrier and I popped up almost instantly, now in full transition. "Don't make me hurt a kid, Margo."

"Do it," I growled again, charging for him. He was calm, his heartbeat steady and he nodded slowly. When I approached ready to strike, he grabbed my wrist, pulling my arm back with his grip while pushing my head with the other hand. My body was facing away from him now, forced to stare straight ahead. "Let me go."

"Are you going to try to kill me?"

"I want to kill you!" I growled, attempting to fight in his grip. With my free hand, I dug my claws into the arm that held my wrist. Within seconds I was being shoved to the ground again. Derek growled lowly in warning when I fought to my feet again.

"Stop fighting me, Margo. You won't win." He warned. "Just think. What did you feel when that car hit your dad? When the alpha almost killed me? When Scott and Allison broke up?"

"Stop talking about it! Stop making me think about it!"  

"You need to!" He screamed in my face. His eyes were a vibrant blue and he began to shift as well. "Think, Margo. What was the common denominator? What did you feel just before you lost control?"

"I felt...I felt angry."

"No, look past that. What made you angry?"

"I didn't feel anything!" I insisted. "Just anger."

"You're not thinking, Margo. You need to think about it. You're feeling it now because you're out of control." 

"I..." I trailed off, searching my brain for any emotions I was feeling. Suddenly, it clicked. All of the things Derek mentioned did have a common denominator, even if I didn't see it at first. "Guilt. I felt guilty."

"Right," he nodded. Slowly, I felt myself shifting back. "It's guilt. That is what controls you, both sides of you."

"What are you talking about?"

"For your werewolf side, you lost control because you felt guilty. When you and Stiles went to check on Lydia, you lost control because you felt guilty about not talking to Stiles. When you left class because you were losing control, you felt guilty about what happened at parent-teacher conferences. At the school when you punched Jackson, it was because you felt guilty when you thought I died. In the locker room when you kissed Scott, it was guilt for breaking up with him. And now—" he nodded down at me. "Now you're losing control because you felt guilty for not being in control."

"Guilt is what makes me shift? But—but I thought it was anger?"

"It is." He confirmed. "It's the anger that comes from feeling guilty. They go hand in hand." 

"Hold on, are you stalking me?" I snapped. 

"Not really," He raised an eyebrow. "I'm always around keeping an eye on you and Scott, making sure you don't kill anyone."

"Derek, that's literally the definition of stalking." 

"Eh," he shrugged. "Do you get it now?"

"I—I do, I think. But you said guilt affects both sides of me?"

"It does. At the school when you felt the tie break, it was you that broke it. Or rather, what you were feeling. You felt so guilty about not being able to stop it that your heart forced your mind to separate from me in an attempt to stop the guilt." 

"So, I'm connected with everyone until I...feel guilty I killed them?" 

"No," he laughed softly. "I don't know what breaks the connection exactly. I think your mind is able to do that once you learn enough. But the connections aren't with everyone. They're with a select few — your pack."

"How do I have a pack?" I raised my eyebrows. "I'm not an alpha."

"Right," he nodded. "That doesn't mean you don't have a pack, though. You created your own." I nodded in understanding, allowing my mind to soak up everything I learned. I forced myself to rid my mind of all guilt for everything that's happened, and as I did, I felt myself calming considerably. My control was back in my grasp once I let everything go.

"Now, if we can just figure out what the hell I am." I threw my body back on my bed. 

"I think I've figured that out too." He stated, causing me to lean up on my elbows in interest. "I don't know for sure. My mom used to tell me stories, but I've never met someone like it before."

"And that someone would be?"

"An angel."

"Aw, thank you." I placed my hand over my chest in mock appreciation. "You're not too bad yourself." He raised his eyebrows at me with an unamused look. "Tough crowd."

"They're actually called seraphs."

"Like seraphs from Judaism or seraphs from Christianity?"

"Both, and neither. They're considered celestial overseers, also known as guardian angels. I don't know much about them, only what she told me. They've existed since the creation of man, designed to be pack protectors in a way. The feelings, the pain. It's all there as a way to protect your pack."

"Definitely not doing a good job at that, but okay," I grumbled. "You've never met one?"

"The last one that our kind knew of died over a century ago."

"Woah," I breathed. "So, I was born like this?"

"No. I don't know what exactly made you an angel—"

"My charmingly good looks and killer personality?"

"Margo," I frowned at the serious look on his face. "Can you be serious for one second?"

"I guess."

"I don't know exactly what happened that gave you those powers, but I know they were activated by Scott being bitten."

"I connected to his pack." I nodded. 

"Not just his pack, it's your pack too. Both of you."

"But Scott isn't an alpha either," I sighed. "How does he have a pack?"

"I don't know that either," he shrugged. "Just that you're connected to it. And you can sever those ties, apparently. I'm not sure how or why, so don't ask."

"What do you know?" I snapped. 

"Not much. Only what my mother told me. There's someone you can ask, though. He probably—"

"Deaton," I cut him off. "He told me we needed to have a conversation the night of the high school."

"He worked closely with my mother," he nodded. "He would have answers for you. We should go see him sometime."

"Yeah, we," I motioned between us. "Are not going to go see him. He'd probably kill you considering the fact you, you know, kidnapped him."

"Fair enough," he nodded. We fell into a comfortable silence while he examined me closely. "You remind me of Laura."

"I remind you of your dead sister?" I raised my eyebrows in shock. "That's reassuring."

"No," he laughed softly. "Not the dead part, anyway. She was a leader who would do anything to protect her pack, to keep them safe. She carried a lot of guilt too, and eventually, that guilt and her need to protect us killed her."

"Again, reassuring."

"It's not supposed to be. Consider it a warning; loyalty is good, but don't let it turn into an instinct that's gonna kill you. And trust me, that's exactly where you're heading."

[taeswolfie]

𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 : 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒊𝒗𝒆

☽︎𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒍𝒍☾︎

Ch.04 - Ch.06

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

Word count: 2.1k

"Just a friendly reminder- parent/teacher conferences are tonight. Students below a 'C' average are required to attend. I won't name you, because the shame and self-disgust should be more than enough punishment." Y/n rolled her eyes at Mr. Harris' snide comments. She really couldn't stand him. If he hated teens as much as he acts like he does, why is he even a teacher? Probably because he enjoys being a huge d- "Has anyone seen Scott McCall?" Her internal insults are cut off when Mr. Harris stands next to the table her and Stiles are seated at and notices the boy's absence.

He stares at Stiles who is preoccupied highlighting his textbook, the cap held between his lips. Seeming to feel the teacher's stare, Stiles looks up at him. Everyone's attention is drawn to the opening of the door as Jackson walks in. Y/n furrows her brows at his unusually pale complection. Stiles had told her what he'd seen with his dad the night before and it worried her, especially because she hasn't heard from or seen Lydia at all today.

Jackson takes his seat and Mr. Harris puts a comforting hand on his back. "Hey, Jackson. If you need to leave early for any reason, you let me know." Y/n rolled her eyes again. Wow, one teenager Mr. Harris doesn't hate. Jackson nodded and Mr. Harris walked to the front again. "Everyone, start reading chapter nine." He stopped at his desk, his back still facing the students. "Mr. Stilinski." Stiles looked up again from his highlighting after being called. "Try putting the highlighter down between paragraphs. It's Chemistry, not a coloring book."

Stiles looked at him before throwing his head back to spit the cap out in the air and catch it in his hand. While he was doing this Y/n watched him from the corner of her eye, enjoying the movements a little more than she was currently willing to admit. Stiles then leaned towards Danny who sat behind him. "Hey, Danny. Can I ask you a question?" He whispered.

"No." He responded and Y/n smiled into her textbook.

"Well, I'm going to anyway. Um, did Lydia show up in your homeroom today?"

Danny sighed. "No."

"Can I ask you another question?"

"The answer's still no."

"Does anyone know what happened to her and Jackson last night?"

"He wouldn't... Tell me."

"But he's your best friend."

"Some things you can't tell or talk about. Even to your best friend." Y/n whispered, not lifting her eyes from her book, and Stiles glanced at her.

"One more question."

"What?" Danny sounded a bit irritated.

"Do you find me attractive?" Danny didn't answer and Stiles leaned forward in anticipation. Y/n caught him before he fell but he still made a loud noise with his chair and bumped the table. He scrambled up in his chair and fixed himself from his little flub.

...

The bell rings and Y/n and Stiles walk together down the halls. "Why is he not answering?" He complained, glaring at his phone as he gets Scott's voicemail once again.

"My guess? He's with Allison. I haven't seen her today either and it's her birthday so he probably took her out on an adorkable date."

Stiles sighed in frustration and dialed Scott again. "What?" Y/n heard Scott's irritable answer.

"Finally! Have you been getting any of my texts?"

"Yeah, like all 9 million of them."

"Do you have any idea what's going on? Lydia is totally M.I.A., Jackson looks like he's got a time bomb inserted into his face, another random guy's dead, and you have to do something about it."

"Like what?"

"Something."

"Okay, I'll deal with it later." Scott hastily hung up and Stiles shoved his phone in his pocket, upset with Scott's indifference to the situation.

"Hey, I was wanting to check up on Lydia, see how she's doing. You wanna come with me?" Y/n offered.

"Yeah, I'd like to see how she is too. I'll give you a ride."

"Thanks." Y/n smiled at him and they made their way out of the school.

...

"Hey, Mrs. Martin." Y/n smiled at Lydia's mother when she opened the door.

"Hello, Y/n. What brings you and your friend here?"

"This is Stiles, we wanted to see how Lydia is doing. I heard she had a bad night, thought I could cheer her up?"

"Of course! I'm sure she'd be happy to see you. Come on in." Natalie let the teens in and led them up to Lydia's room where she knocked on the door and slowly opened it. Lydia was sprawled in her bed, propped up on her elbow and lazily resting her head on her hand. She was in her royal blue nightie and boredly looking at her nails. "Honey, Y/n and a Stiles are here to see you."

There's a pause. "I know Y/n, but what the hell is a 'Stiles'?" Lydia responds, her voice lacking it's usual spunk.

Stiles and Y/n look at Natalie in question. "She took a little something to ease her nerves." She admitted. "You can- you can go in."

"Thanks." They said and stepped into the grey colored room. Mrs. Martin walked away and Lydia propped her hand on her hip to look at her guests.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"We were just making sure you're okay." Stiles answered.

She smacked her lips a bit, looking at her hand until her eyes drifted back to them. "Why?" She patted the bed. Stiles stuttered so Y/n took the offered seat.

"Because we were worried about you today. How are you feeling?" Y/n asked.

Lydia stretched her arm out before placing it on Y/n's head to pet her hair. "I feel..." Lydia got close to Y/n's face and smiled. "Fantastic."

"Uh-huh." The h/c nodded, smiling in amusement.

Stiles' eyes widened as he looked away from the girls and spotted the pill bottles on her nightstand. "Oh!" He picked one up and read the label. "I bet you can't say, uh, 'I saw Suzy sittin' at the shoeshine shop' ten times fast."

Lydia raised her brows at the challenge. "I saw Shuzy-" She stopped and blinked. "I shaw…" She trailed off this time and leaned down as Stiles put the bottle back. Her eyes became distant as she looked in space. "I saw..."

"What? Lydia, what did you see?" Y/n asked her friend, moving some of Lydia's hair behind her ear so she could see her better.

"Something."

"Something like... Like a mountain lion?" She asked gently.

"A mountain lion." Lydia nodded slightly.

"Are you sure you saw a mountain lion, or are you just saying that because that's what the police told you?" Stiles questioned.

"A mountain lion." She repeated.

Stiles grabbed her stuffed giraffe from her table and held it up to her. "What's this?"

She looked at the stuffy. "A mountain lion."

"Okay." He put it back. "You're so drunk." Lydia dropped her head onto Y/n's lap. Y/n sighed and gently stroked her hair.

"Why don't you wait outside? I'll see if I can get her to sleep." She said.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, sure. I'll, uh, be out here." Stiles awkwardly left the room and Y/n shook her head at his behavior, a small smile on her face.

Lydia leaned back on her elbow and gave Y/n a loopy smile. "I have a friend who looks just like you." She mumbled.

"Really? What's she like?"

"Really funny. Kinda mysterious. Blind to her emotions." She started studying her nails again.

"Blind?" Lydia gave a sharp nod, similar to a child. "How?"

"I dunno. Like a bat?" Lydia giggled at her own joke. "She's coming around, though. I think. She's becoming less… Batty."

Y/n furrowed her brows at her, not really able to follow Lydia's doped up half-thoughts. She decided to brush it off, instead focusing on putting Lydia to sleep. She kneeled next to her bed and gave her a gentle smile. "Lydia." Y/n lightly called. "Lydia, look at me." Y/n gently cradled Lydia's face in her hands as her eyes glowed. Lydia's gaze met hers and her green gaze seemed to grow more distant. "It's time to relax. Take a deep breath." The red head obeyed, taking a calming breath in and out. "And sleep." Her eyes flashed brightly, the color reflected in Lydia's eyes. Y/n's hands slipped from her face as she fell onto her back, now deep in a peaceful slumber.

Y/n sighed and her eyes dimmed as she looked at her friend a moment longer. She wasn't worried about Lydia seeing her eyes. Between the pills and her sleep aid, she won't remember seeing them. Y/n glanced at Lydia's phone when it lit up and picked it up to put it on silent so she could rest undisturbed. She moved away from the text notification and found a video from the night before. A video that showed the Alpha in his monstrous form running out of the video store. She sent the video to her own phone and deleted it from Lydia's. Lydia didn't need that terrifying reminder.

...

Y/n sits on Stiles' bed. She had shown him the video from Lydia and now he was pacing as he tried to get ahold of Scott, yet again only getting his voicemail. "Hey, it's me again. Look, Y/n found something, and we don't know what to do, okay? So if you could turn your phone on right now, that'd be great. Or else I'll kill you. Do you understand me? I'm gonna kill you. And I'm too upset to come up with a witty description about how exactly I'm gonna kill you, but I'm just gonna do it, okay? I'm gonna- uhg!" He gripped the phone in frustration. "Goodbye." He tossed the phone down and sank down into his desk chair with a sigh.

Y/n got up from the bed and stood next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, it's gonna be okay." He gave a weak nod that did absolutely nothing to convince her. "Do you need a hug? I'm told I give the best." She smiled and nudged him, making him actually smile. She put her arms over his shoulders and he put his around her waist, resting his head on her middle as she leaned over a bit to hug him better. He sighed a bit and let his eyes close. She was right, she does give great hugs. A sudden knock on his bedroom door made Stiles jump back from her, sighing when he saw his dad standing there.

"Please tell me I'm gonna hear good news at this parent/teacher thing tonight."

"Depends on how you define 'good news'." Stiles responded.

"I define it as you getting straight A's with no behavioral issues."

"You might wanna rethink that definition." Stiles cringed a bit.

"Enough said. What about you, Y/n? Any good news for Deaton at least?"

"Yessir. A's and B's, a couple C's, and only minimal behavioral issues." She smiled.

"Good going." He left the room then and Stiles sighed again as he rewatched the video on Y/n's phone.

"Scott, where the hell are you?" He muttered.

After a while Y/n got a call from Alan asking where Scott was. When she told him she had no idea he asked if she could come in to help in Scott's place which she said yes to. "I gotta go to the Clinic." She told Stiles once she hung up.

"Do you need a ride?" Stiles asked.

She shook her head. "No, I'm good. Thanks anyway." She smiled at him as she gathered her stuff. "I'll see you later. And don't agonize too much over where Scott is, okay? He'll come around soon enough. The parent/teacher conference is tonight anyway, he has to be there." Stiles nodded and she gave him a wave as she left his room.

By the time Y/n got to the Clinic Alan had to leave for the school for the conference and he left her to lock up. She made sure the food and water was filled and that the Doberman had his medicine. She locked up the front door, but didn't leave the Clinic yet, opting to sit in the back room by herself for a while. She sat with her back against the wall, closing her eyes and leaning her head back with a sigh.

In this quiet back room, with only a few sounds from the animals in the other room, she could pretend for a while that nothing was wrong. Nothing bad was happening. There was no angry Alpha, no mysterious motives, no supernatural situations. She was just Y/n, a simple human girl in a simple town. But she wasn't human and nothing in Beacon Hills is ever simple.

Ch.06

[taeswolfie]

𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 : 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

☽︎𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒔☾︎

Ch.16 - Ch.18

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

Word count: 3.8k

In class Y/n and Scott stare at the surprise return student. Stiles runs in and takes his seat behind Scott in a frenzy. Y/n kept her gaze forward while Scott turned to Stiles as he started to talk. "Guys, I just talked to my dad, who just talked to Jackson, and I got really terrible, horrible, very, very bad news."

"I think we already know." Scott gestures to the seat in front of Y/n where there is seated a very smug looking Isaac.

After class Stiles informs them what he found about the kanima. "All right, I only found one thing online called the Kanima. It's a werejaguar from South America that goes after murderers."

"That thing was not a jaguar."

"Yeah, and I'm not exactly a murderer."

"Yeah, but you did see it kill somebody, which is probably why it tried to kill you. And it's still trying to kill you, and it probably won't stop until you're dead."

Stiles pauses as he stares at Scott. "You know, sometimes I really begin to question this 'friendship'." Stiles makes quote marks in the air and Y/n chuckles as she pulls him along.

"I also looked through my grimoire." She said when they caught up to Scott. "I didn't find much and what I did find was pretty much everything Derek said. When you get the Bite the shape you take reflects who you are, if it doesn't kill you first. I had an ancestor who knew someone who turned into a kanima. They said that the Kanima shape was most likely derived, partially if not all, from the person's self image. Something like identity issues? They weren't very clear."

"Why can't it ever be 'this is this and this is how you take care of it'?" She just shrugged as they entered their next class together, this time the boys sitting next to each other with Y/n behind Stiles.

Jackson came in a minute later and sat behind Scott. "Hey, dick, and testicles left and right." He calls the three. "What the hell is a kanima?" The question is enough to make all three turn to him in shock. But they can't say anything more as Coach gets the class' attention.

"All right, listen up. Quick warning before we begin our review. Some of you, like McCall, might want to start their own study groups, because tomorrow's midterm is so profoundly difficult..." He chuckles a bit. "I'm not even too sure I could pass it. Okay, I need a volunteer at the board to answer the first question. Who's got it, huh?" A few hands go up, including Lydia. He waves someone up. "Let's go, buddy."

Jackson had quickly told them about his recent encounter with Derek and what he heard in the hall just before class. "Paralyzed from the neck down. Do you have any idea what that feels like?"

"I'm familiar with the sensation." Stiles says.

"Wait..." Scott speaks up. "Why would Derek test you? Why would he think that it's you?"

"How should I know?"

"Wait, do they think it's Lydia?" Stiles asked.

"I don't know, all I heard was her name and something about Chemistry."

"Jackson!" Coach yells as he's now standing near the group. "Do you have something you want to share with the rest of the class?"

"Um..." He glances around. "Just an undying admiration for my- my Coach."

Coach smiles a bit. "That's really kind of you." Jackson gives a small 'modest' smile. "Now shut up! Shut it! Anybody else?" When no one else speaks he goes back up to the front of the class.

Scott then leans towards his friends. "How do we know it's not her?"

"Because I looked into the eyes of that thing, okay? And what I saw was pure evil."

"Then it's definitely not her." Y/n shakes her head. "Lydia's eyes are 50% evil, 60 on bad days, 40 on good."

"Y/n, that's not a very good argument."

"I'm aware of that, but it's not her. Whatever is happening it's not because of her." She looked down at her notebook then, shutting out any more argument about Lydia being the kanima. When she looked back up to maybe listen to what Coach was saying she found she was no longer in the classroom.

Y/n sits at her desk in the middle of the woods. Fog hugs the trees, diffusing any light that may have touched her. She slowly stood up from the seat and looked around. There was no one in sight. When she turned back the desk was gone and a trail of wolfsbane was left in its place. She followed it through the woods towards a house. The Hale house. It was quiet. She walked in and looked to her left. Her eyes widened in surprise with what she saw. She saw herself standing in the middle of the room, arm outstretched with a clenched fist, red trickling between her fingers and down the side of her hand as she squeezed blood onto the floor. The blood soaked into the wood leaving no trace behind and the other Y/n looked up at her with glowing eyes and a smirk.

"Y/n!" Someone whisper shouted at her and she shot her head up with a startled gasp. Stiles had been calling her name with no answer until right then. He looked at her with furrowed brows. "Are you okay?"

"Um... Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." She brushed off. He didn't seem convinced.

Before he could say anything his eyes darted down to her notebook. "What's that?"

She looked down to see she had written something in another language. Mihi prohibere. She quickly shut her notebook with a snap. "It's nothing." She dismissed. But it wasn't actually nothing. It was Latin, it said 'stop me'.

"Lydia~" Coach calling her in a sing song caught everyone's attention. Lydia opened her eyes with a gasp as tears stained her cheeks. She was visibly shaken by something as she looked around with stuttering gasps. Coach looked at the board behind her. "Okay then, anybody else want to try answering? This time in English?" The class laughs and Lydia turns in confusion only to see she had written something seemingly in a foreign language several times.

"What is that, Greek?" Scott wondered.

"No, actually, I think it is English." Stiles had taken a picture of the board and reversed it to show them, but Y/n already knew what it said.

"'Someone help me'." She muttered, but they heard her. She looked at Lydia in worry.

"Derek is not gonna kill her without proof." The three walk into Chemistry, Scott assuring Y/n about Lydia.

"Not if I have anything to say about it." She huffed.

"All right, so he tests her like he did Jackson, right? But when and where?" Stiles wonders.

They look at Lydia flipping through a book at a station and then at the door where Isaac and Erica had just walked in. "I think here and now." Scott said. The five look at each other, glancing at Lydia for a moment until they all rush forward, each heading for Lydia. Scott sits next to Lydia on one side and Stiles pulls up a chair on her other. Y/n sits at the table next to Stiles while the Betas sit behind Lydia and Scott. Allison sits across from Scott and looks at him in question and he gestures to the two behind him.

"Einstein once said, 'two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe'." Mr. Harris starts off the class walking down an aisle. "I myself have encountered infinite stupidity." He claps Stiles on the shoulder at that. "So to combat the plague of ignorance in my class, you're going to combine efforts through a round of group experiments. Let's see if two heads are indeed better than one. Or in Mr. Stilinski's case, less than one. Erica, you take the first station. You'll start with-" All the guys (bar Scott, Stiles and Isaac) and a couple girls hold up their hands. "I didn't ask for volunteers. Put your hormonal little hands down. Start with Mr. McCall." He finished. Erica smiled amusedly at Scott and glanced at Allison. "All right, next two."

Y/n was sat next to someone she didn't know for the first round of the experiment and she had to watch Erica 'flirt' with Scott in the seat in front of her to try and get to Allison. Allison was sitting next to Lydia although when Mr. Harris rang his bell it was time to switch. She warned Lydia to not talk to Isaac or Erica before she had to move. Next Scott was with Lydia and Y/n had the great pleasure of being saddled with Isaac. She gave him a glance and he smirked at her. She rolled her eyes at him and turned to the appointed task.

"I'm only gonna tell you this once, pup. You touch even one hair on my ginger princess's head, I will burn your little werewolf ass to a crisp and turn your ashes into a crystal that I'll give to her as a birthday present."

He laughs. "Really?"

"It's a promise."

"I've never actually been to one of her big, invite-only birthday parties." He muses. "I did ask her out once though."

"I've heard this story before so I'm gonna pass."

"It was the first day of freshman year."

"Thought everything would be different for you in high school, but she said no." She feigned sadness.

He chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, she even laughed. Told me to come back when the bike I rode to school had an engine, not a chain."

"Yeah, she's got a thing for motorcycles. You got turned down. Suck it up. It's not the only time you'll ever be said no to by anyone. Maybe you should learn to channel that negative energy into something productive, like writing."

"Nah, I was thinking I'd channel it into killing her. I'm not very good at writing." He looks at her and she glares daggers at him.

Mr. Harris rings his bell again. "And switch." Y/n was sat with someone else she didn't know and Scott and Stiles ended up together while Allison got put with Erica. Isaac slid into a seat next to Lydia and when Stiles tried to get up Mr. Harris slammed a stick in front of him making him sit back down with a jump. "If you're trying to test my patience, Mr. Stilinski, I guarantee it'll be a failing grade." He warns and goes back to his desk.

More time passes and Y/n is tense as she finishes. Mr. Harris rings the bell one last time. "Time. If you catalyzed the reaction correctly, you should now be looking at a crystal." Y/n looked and there was indeed a crystal. When she looked at Scott and Stiles they had some sort of beige sludge. Isaac picked up the crystal with tongs as he and Lydia admired it. "Now for the part of that last experiment I'm sure you'll all enjoy... You can eat it."

Y/n, Scott, and Stiles glanced at each other as they looked at the questionable thing in front of the boys. There was no way they could eat that. She thought. But then she and Scott looked at Lydia to see her taking the crystal Isaac offered. They could see a clear liquid dripping off of it. Kanima venom. She put it to her tongue. "Lydia!" Scott jumped up and everyone turned to look at him.

"What?" She asked.

"... Nothing." He sat back down. She turned away and took a bite of the crystal. They waited and… She was perfectly fine. The kanima venom had no effect on her. Scott looked out the window to see Derek had seen everything.

...

Scott, Allison, Stiles and Y/n walk into Coach's office and close the door to discuss what to do next. "Derek's outside waiting for Lydia." Scott points out.

"Waiting to kill her?" Allison asks.

"If he thinks she's the kanima, then yes, especially after what happened at the pool."

"It's not her." Y/n insists. "I was with her before that thing came out."

"Y/n, she didn't pass the test. Nothing happened."

"It's a stupid fucking test!" She throws her arms up. "She has some type of immunity to the supernatural. I don't know how yet but she does."

"It doesn't matter because Derek thinks it's her." Allison says. "So either we can convince him that he's wrong, or we've got to figure out a way to protect her."

"Well, I really don't think he's gonna do anything here, not at school." Scott says.

"What about after school?" Scott sighs. "Okay, well..." Allison sighs as well. "What if we can prove that Derek's wrong?"

"By 3:00?" Stiles asks.

"There could be something in the bestiary."

"Oh, you mean the 900-page book written in Archaic Latin that none of us can read? Good luck with that."

Allison thinks for a moment. "Actually, I think I know someone who can translate it."

"Uh, I can talk to Derek, maybe convince him to give us a chance to prove it's not her." Scott offers. "But if anything happens, you guys let me and Y/n handle it, okay?"

"What does that mean?" Allison asked him.

"It means you can't heal like we do. I just don't want you getting hurt."

Allison gives him a look and digs in her bag, pulling out a small crossbow. "I can protect myself."

"Again, that's why you're my friend." Y/n praises her and she smiles back.

Scott still looks worried and she puts down the weapon. "What? Did something else happen?"

"I just don't want you getting hurt. Seriously, if anything goes wrong, you call me, okay? I- I don't care if your dad finds out. Call, text, scream, yell, whatever. I'll hear you and I'll find you as fast as I can." Allison gives him a tiny nod. "We have until 3:00." She nods more this time. He turns and walks to the door when a whistle of an arrow sounds, quickly turning back and catching the small arrow that nearly went into his head.

Y/n sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. Allison turns and holds her hand out to Stiles. "Uh..." He hands her back the crossbow he had been examining curiously. "Sorry. It's a sensitive trigger on that."

Y/n and Stiles went with Lydia to the library to keep an eye on her while Allison went to the school counselor to see if she could try and translate the kanima pages. Scott went to talk with Derek on the field. Boyd was there with him. As Scott talked to Derek Erica and Isaac were heading for Lydia. Scott was hoping he could change Derek's mind, but he wasn't counting on it. Erica and Isaac go to the library only to find no Lydia. Y/n, Stiles, Allison, and Jackson were walking with Lydia down the halls, taking her to Scott's house under the pretense of a study group.

"If we're doing a study group, why didn't we just stay in the library?" She asked.

"Because we're meeting up with somebody else." Stiles answered.

"Hmm, well, why don't they just meet us in the library?"

"Oh, that would've been a great idea! Too late now."

"Okay, hold on-"

Y/n put an arm over her shoulders. "Scott's a strange guy, you know this. He works better in more comfortable settings like his home." Lydia huffs, but doesn't argue any further. Stiles drives his Jeep with Y/n in the passenger, the other three managing to fit in the back.

When they get to Scott's house Lydia had more questions. "If we're studying at Scott's house, then where's Scott?"

"He'll be here. Just running an errand I think."

"Thanks." Allison muttered to Jackson in helping escort Lydia out of school.

"I needed to talk to her anyway."

When they get inside Stiles locks the handle, deadbolt, and the chain on the door. Lydia gives him a questioning look. "Uh, there's been a few break-ins around the neighborhood." And then he put a chair under the handle for good measure. Another questioning look. "And a murder! Yeah, it was bad." Y/n pats him on the arm while Allison gestures for Jackson to take Lydia upstairs.

"Lydia, follow me. I need to talk to you for a minute."

She sighs. "Seriously? What is going on with everyone?" She mutters before she follows him. While they go upstairs, Stiles and Allison keep watch out the front while Y/n sits on the steps, ready to jump up and go wherever to protect her friends.

Y/n had her head in her hands, fingers raking through her hair as she waited. The sun starts to set. She picks her head up suddenly. "They're here." Allison and Stiles look at her and then out the window. Sure enough, Derek and his Betas are standing across the street from the McCall house.

Allison dials Scott on Stiles' phone. "It's me."

"What's wrong?"

"You need to get here now. Right now."

"Okay, I'm leaving now. On my way."

More time passes and they keep checking to see where the werewolves are. Allison looks at her phone and taps a couple buttons. "What are you doing?" Stiles asks.

"I think... I think I have to call my dad."

"No, but if he finds you here-"

"You and Scott-" Y/n continues until Allison cuts them off.

"I know. But what are we supposed to do? They're not here to scare us, okay? They're here to kill Lydia."

Y/n gets up and stands next to her friend, putting a comforting hand on her arm. "Allison, I'm not gonna let anyone hurt her, okay? We'll be fine." Allison sighs and puts her phone away. Y/n then hears Lydia cry a bit, that alone enough to make her brow draw together, but she frowned when she felt a spark of something. Something other. But it was only for a moment and then it was gone.

"I got an idea. Just shoot one of 'em." Stiles whispers to Allison.

"Are you serious?" She whispers back.

"We told Scott we could protect ourselves, so let's do it. Or at least give it a shot, right?"

"Okay."

"Stiles, you guys don't need to prove anything." Y/n also whispers. "Just shooting them now could actually have negative consequences."

"Look, they don't think we're gonna fight, so if one of them gets hit, I guarantee they'll take off."

"I doubt it."

"It's worth a try. Just shoot one of 'em."

Allison peeks out the window. "Which one?"

"Uh... Derek. Yeah, shoot him, preferably in the head."

"If Scott was able to catch an arrow, Derek definitely can."

"Okay, uh, just shoot one of the other three then."

"You mean two."

"No, he means three." Y/n and Stiles look through a window to see only Isaac missing.

"Where the hell is Isaac?" He wonders. The three back up, Allison holding her bow up to the door.

Y/n senses him a moment too late. She turns just as Isaac grabs her by the neck and tosses her back towards the steps. He then disarms and knocks Allison aside. Next he smacks Stiles aside. His eyes glow and fangs show as he stares down at Stiles and then he lunges with a growl. Y/n winced as she pushed herself up. For the moment Stiles and Allison were holding their own against Isaac. Y/n raced up the stairs to check on Lydia. She found her just as she turned the corner.

"Lydia, get back." She said quietly. "Someone is trying to get in, okay? Just go hide in Scott's bathroom. I'll come for you when it's safe. Go. Lydia, go." She said more firmly and Lydia finally listened, running back into Scott's room where she noticed Jackson was missing. But the noises downstairs prompted her to go to the bathroom and hide as instructed, calling the police as she did. Y/n ran back down to take care of Isaac. She scooped up Allison's crossbow and pushed it into her hands. "Go watch Lydia." Allison nodded and did as instructed. Y/n used her magic to give her an extra boost as she grabbed Isaac and threw him back from Stiles. Isaac quickly got back up and growled at her. "That doesn't scare me."

Allison closed the door behind her and noticed the open window with venom on the sill. "Guys, it's here!" She called for them to hear. Erica kicked down the door and Allison pointed the bow at her, the laser pointing at the blonde's chest.

She scoffs. "Hmm... This might make me sound like kind of a bitch, but I've always wondered what it feels like to steal someone's boyfriend. I bet it's a pretty sick rush of power. I think I might try it with Scott." She chuckles. "You know what... I don't think it's gonna be that hard. Because why would he be waiting around to steal ten minutes with you when he can have me anytime he wants?" Allison shoots her arrow and Erica catches it as swiftly as Scott did.

She laughs. "You didn't really think that would work, did you?"

"Actually, I did." Erica looks down at her hand and finds that Allison had coated the arrow with kanima venom. Allison smirks as Erica shouts and falls onto her stomach, completely paralyzed. She steps over and crouches to hover her face over the blonde's. She moves a bit of Erica's hair back. "I thought you were psychic... Bitch." She smiles and leaves Erica.

Derek and Boyd watch from outside, hearing furniture shifting and growling coming from inside. Derek smirks until the door opens and his Betas are tossed on the grass in front of him, knocked out and unable to move. He sighs and looks up when Scott steps onto his porch, Y/n, Allison, and Stiles with him. "I think I'm finally getting why you keep refusing me, Scott." Derek says. "You're not an Omega. You're already an Alpha of your own pack." He smiles. "But you know you can't beat me."

"Wanna test that?" Y/n glares, only backing down when Scott looks at her, silently telling her that he's got it.

"I can hold you off until the cops get here." Sirens are heard just after as the police draw near. Then hissing and scurrying footsteps are heard catching everyone's attention. The four run off the porch to see the kanima on the roof. It screeches at them and runs off.

"Lydia." Y/n runs into the house for her friend.

Derek glances down to the teens at his feet. "Get them out of here." Derek instructs Boyd. But then everyone looks back towards the door as Y/n brings out a very upset looking Lydia.

"Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" Lydia sounds even more upset.

Scott looks towards where the kanima ran off. There was only one person left unaccounted for. "It's Jackson."

Ch.18