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takaraphoenix · 1 month

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Home at the Hale Farm

Tags: m/m/m, polyamory, post-Nogitsune, PTSD, Stiles leaves Beacon Hills, Spark Stiles, fluff, hurt/comfort, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, Allison Lives, Pack Alpha Peter, m/f, f/f

Main Pairing: Peter/Chris/Stiles

Side Pairings: Boyd/Erica, Jackson/Lydia, Malia/Kira

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski | Stiliyan 'Stiles' Gajos, Peter Hale, Chris Argent, Derek Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd III, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Malia Tate, Kira Yukimura, Cora Hale, Noah Stilinski | John Gajos

@writersmonth Prompts: fur + farm

Summary: Theo is the last straw for Stiles, Scott believing Theo over Stiles. Not knowing how else to get out of Beacon Hills, him and his dad fake their own deaths. And it's the right choice, they're finally free and out of that hell-town. Stiles only has one regret, that he doesn't know where the Hale Pack lives and never had the chance to let them know that he's still alive. Until him and his dad move to London.

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Home at the Hale Farm

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

If asked when everything had started to go to shit, Stiles would probably pinpoint the Gerard Argent take-down as that moment. The very first time Scott had gone against Stiles, acted without even consulting Stiles. The first real crack in their friendship. Sure, they had drifted apart more and more since Scott had gotten together with Allison and prioritized his relationship over his friendship, but that? That betrayal had caused a rift between them. One that Stiles spent months trying to ignore, trying to mend, before it frayed more and more.

Additionally, that had been the last day Stiles had been a part of the Hale Pack. With Scott's betrayal, Derek turned his back on them. And Stiles didn't hold that against the then Alpha. But if that hadn't happened? If Scott and Stiles had stayed in the Hale Pack, maybe everything else wouldn't have happened. Maybe if Scott had been a proper beta, he would have never risen to being a True Alpha and then all of this wouldn't have happened and Stiles would still be happy with the Hale Pack, with Boyd and Erica, with whom he had forged a bond in that basement, with Isaac, who was just a big puppy, with Peter, who was—Stiles shook his head, trying not to think of Peter.

Scott became a True Alpha and, always the loyal best friend, Stiles became part of his pack. Derek gave up his Alpha spark to save his sister's life and the Hale Pack seemed to fall apart. Isaac, who had been drawn closer to Scott for months now, easily joined Scott's pack, together with Stiles and Lydia. The McCall Pack formed. But the Hale Pack wasn't done yet.

Peter Hale had too much ambition and he had lost too much in the past to give up the Hale Pack, to let it die fully. No, with so many spare Alphas running around, he had an easy time killing one to regain the Alpha spark for himself. This time, more sane and without killing a family member, the red eyes suited him much better, in Stiles' opinion.

But now there were two packs in Beacon Hills. Two Alphas with as much history as Peter and Scott? That was bound to blow up in all their faces. Tension rose, more and more. The two packs edged on and Stiles could see this escalating if someone didn't give. Peter gave.

"We're going to leave Beacon Hills, Stiles," Peter had told him back then, voice hard.

He'd stood with his arms crossed in Derek's loft. Derek, Cora, Boyd and Erica behind him, all avoiding Stiles' gaze. Looking like guilty puppies. It had made Stiles' heart clench so all he could do was nod at the Alpha, at the pack – the pack he once belonged to.

"I think it'll do you good," Stiles had offered softly. "There's so much trauma in this town. It's tried to kill every single one of you in the past. Heck, it did kill you, Peter. I hope… you'll be happy."

Peter had looked at him with an unreadable expression. "We're going-"

"Don't tell me," Stiles had requested, shaking his head. "You want to get out of here, get a new start. You don't want anyone in Beacon Hills know where you are. And I don't want to be the one to drag you back here. You gotta… leave it all behind."

"We don't want to leave you behind," Erica had looked at him with tears in her eyes.

"I'll come back for you, sweetheart," Peter had rested a hand on his cheek. "Day of your graduation, I am coming back and I will ask you to make the choice that I can't ask of you right now. But I trust Scott to fuck up badly enough to make this choice easy for you."

Stiles wondered if Peter had really known just how true his words would turn out to be, or if he'd just been a prick with a complex back then. Either way, Stiles had agreed to that and he had hugged them all. It had hurt, seeing them leave, but he knew it was the right decision for them and that was all Stiles wanted. For them to be happy, to not be dragged down by this damn town.

The McCall Pack gained two new pack-members, in the supposedly reformed former Alpha twins. That was when the crack in Scott and Stiles' relationship grew more, because he'd vetoed that. They had helped capture Cora, Boyd and Erica, had helped nearly kill them, but Scott was giving them a second chance? Not just by letting them go, but by offering them a place in their pack?

Next up, Malia Tate and Kira Yukimura joined the pack, as Stiles' life started falling apart. He got possessed by the Nogitsune, it used him to kill people, so many people. He'd killed Aiden and – and he killed Allison, even if nobody knew, because he'd poured all of his magic, all of his Spark, into saving her life as she bled out in his arms. She had still been gravely injured, had spent weeks in the hospital to recover, but she was alive and that was all that mattered. Or so Stiles thought.

It was the final straw for Chris to leave, as soon as Allison was discharged from the hospital. He'd only stayed after the rest of his family had died, one by one, because Allison insisted. This? This had been too close a call, Chris was done (Chris had no idea just how close and if Stiles had any say in it, Chris would never know that Stiles had actually killed his daughter). Stiles understood it. This town had taken so damn much from Chris. And Stiles was sure neither Chris nor Allison wanted to look at the boy who'd 'nearly' killed Allison. Stiles couldn't even look at himself, after all. Isaac left with them, left with his girlfriend and the man who'd been looking over him.

The last member of the Hale Pack left Beacon Hills and Stiles felt something inside him break.

If he'd known that this was just the beginning of the end? Maybe he would have packed up and left too. Not with them, he understood that the Argents would never want to have anything to do with him. If Stiles thought the possession was bad, the aftermath of it was even worse.

He couldn't sleep, ate less than he used to, pulled away from the pack, because the pack – Scott – pulled away from him. Couldn't even look at Stiles anymore. Asked Stiles' opinion less and less.

And then Gerard fucking Argent had returned. Which, brought him back to the beginning. The Gerard take-down was when things started coming apart, because Scott's stupid plan had left the man alive and nobody tracked him down to kill him, so of course had the vengeance obsessed bastard come up with a revenge plan. A deadpool on all the supernatural of Beacon Hills.

Stiles and Scott had fought about it, a lot, until Stiles started giving in, because he was so tired. He didn't sleep enough. He didn't get enough physical comfort. His dad was trying. Malia was… Malia was being a really good friend, was trying too, she understood physical needs, understood pack in a way that Scott never would, that Scott refused to learn. But Malia was also still struggling with being human and she had her new, shiny relationship with Kira, so she couldn't be there for Stiles 24/7 either. Lydia was trying, but whenever Stiles looked at her, he flinched away in guilt. He'd heard her Banshee scream for Allison the night Stiles had killed Lydia's best friend.

Theo was Stiles' breaking point. Theo, who waltzed into their pack and became Scott's right-hand just like that, had the Alpha's ear and trust and so easily filled a role that Stiles had always thought was his. The worst part was that Stiles knew Theo was up to no good. Was planning something. Theo knew Stiles knew, he kept taunting Stiles about it.

And then Donovan had happened, Stiles had killed him and Theo twisted Scott into accusing Stiles of murder. They didn't kill in Scott's pack. He didn't tolerate a killer in his pack. And Stiles, he knew it was about more than Donovan. It was about the people Stiles had killed. It was about their argument in regards to Gerard Argent and how they should have killed him.

"Kiddo," his dad had looked at him with broken eyes when Stiles had broken down in front of him that night. "Tell me what you need, tell me what I can do to fix this, please."

For months, he had watched his son fall apart, bits and pieces being chipped off Stiles. The possession had broken him, truly broken him, and Stiles was fighting every day to survive, but now he was losing what little stability he had – the pack.

"I need to get out of here, I'm drowning, dad," Stiles had sobbed into his father's shoulder, clinging onto him. "I'm treading water and I can't keep going, I can't, I'm going to drown if I don't get out. And I know he's not going to let me out, he won't, he'll kill you, he threatened you, I can't-"

His father's eyes had hardened. Determination. He'd lost his wife in this damn town, he wasn't going to watch his son die before his eyes. Not if there was anything he could do to help.

Two days later, the Stilinskis died in a tragic car accident.

Stiles' pack bonds had already been severed by Scott so there was nothing to worry about. If Scott didn't want to believe him that Theo was a threat? Fine, then. He could get himself killed. Stiles no longer cared. All he cared about was his dad, his dad's safety. Theo had made the wrong move threatening his dad. So they faked their own deaths and, with some skills Stiles had learned from Danny, started new lives, under new names. John Gajos and his son Stiliyan Gajos, so Stiles could keep his nickname, he couldn't shed himself fully.

As the two of them drove out of Beacon Hills and Roscoe stood in flames with two unidentified bodies they'd borrowed from the morgue, the only regret Stiles had was that he had no way of contacting the Hale Pack and letting them know he was fine. Maybe… Maybe even ask them if he could come live with them. His heart ached at that thought. No. Why would they want him, he was broken beyond repair, he'd killed his own pack-mates. No, this was better. Just him and his dad.

/break\

They'd traveled through the US for a couple months. Never staying anywhere for more than a couple weeks. They moved to Canada and lived there for a few months, giving Stiles the chance to settle and heal at least a little. As he healed, his Spark started to ignite again. Tiny, a fraction of what it used to be, but he could feel its warmth in his chest again. And that warmth pulled him away from America, over the ocean. He told his dad that it felt like his magic was pulling him and his dad had simply shrugged and started packing. They were doing this to be together, the destination didn't matter. It had made Stiles smile ever so softly. So the Gajoses packed up again and moved across the pond to London, because that's where his Spark was pulling Stiles.

The entire flight to London, Stiles sat curled together on his seat on the plane and he kept sketching in his notebook. He wasn't one for drawing, really. He took notes, used words. Words were his weapon of choice. But he'd felt restless since they left Toronto, since take-off.

His dad kept looking over his shoulder. "What are you drawing, kiddo? What is that?"

It startled Stiles out of his thoughts and made him actually look at the page. Swirls. Countless swirls. Always three swirls facing each other, meeting in the middle. The Hale triskele. Stiles' heart skipped a beat as he saw it over and over again on his page. In between, there were a couple of little arrows too. Arrow-heads between triskeles. A smile twisted on his lips.

"Nothing," Stiles muttered and turned the page. "Just something… that was important once."

Noah's – John's – eyes narrowed at him, but his father had mercy on him and didn't force him to explain. How could he? Arrows for the Argents, the man he'd been developing a crush on over the months after the Hales left, the girl who'd once time been a close friend and then Stiles had killed her. Guilt, shame, desire, loss, all knotted up into one twisted strange emotion. And the triskele. Longing, home, family, hope, friendship, belonging, loss, rejection.

London was going to be a new start for them. London was going to be good, Stiles just knew it. He didn't know how, but he knew that this was where him and his dad were going to get a proper fresh start. Beacon Hills kept casting a long shadow that had reached even all the way to Canada and Stiles couldn't, he couldn't, he could not be tempted to go back. London would be safer.

/break\

John sighed tired as he entered their apartment, gaining Stiles' attention. He tilted his head to look at his dad. They shared a small apartment, two bedrooms, a kitchen barely big enough to turn around. But they had to leave everything behind when they left Beacon Hills, including any money they had. All they had saved was a thumb-drive, with all of Stiles' work and all of their family pictures on it – they had both been grateful for fourteen year old Stiles' hyperfixation on scanning all their analog family photos one summer – and the clothes on their backs. Stiles hadn't been able to leave his red leather jacket behind, it was the last thing he'd gotten from Peter, a parting gift when the Hales had left Beacon Hills three years ago. An unspoken promise, since leather jackets were a Hale Pack thing, like they were a gang and not a group of werewolves. Stiles had worn it with pride, even when Scott would glare at it. He couldn't let that go up in flames back then.

With all their worldly possessions and all their savings going up in flames, they'd spent the months of traveling through the US doing odd jobs, anything to get enough money to keep them moving. Living from the hand to the mouth. They were able to gather some small savings during their time in Canada, but that was entirely burned on the move to London.

"Hey, dad," Stiles greeted, returning his attention to the newspaper.

"Hey, kiddo," John stepped up to his son, ruffling his hair and kissing the top of his head. "What are you doing? Looking for jobs again? ...Anything interesting?"

So far, since moving here, Stiles had been working as a waiter in a café. His dad had found a job in a private security company. He couldn't bring himself to join law enforcement, not under a fake name. Mostly, his dad worked nights, which meant they didn't see each other too much, but they needed to make ends meet and his dad's job at least paid enough to keep them afloat.

"I don't…" Stiles trailed off as a name caught his eyes.

His heart jumped into his throat. Hale & Associates. It wasn't a rare last name. There were tens of thousands of Hales in the world. Still, seeing that name made something warm unfurl in his chest. A law firm. The named partner was looking for a private assistant and secretary. Was it silly? To want to apply to a job he had no experience or qualifications for, solely based on the firm's name?

Oh well, the worst that could happen was that he got yet another rejection. Who knew, maybe the name would be his lucky charm, maybe they could catch a break with this. He was going to try.

/break\

Chris smiled bemused as he walked into his husband's law firm, their daughters trailing after him, arguing the entire time. Allison and Malia had adjusted horribly to being step-sisters, taking all the worst quality of siblings. He reached one hand out to ruffle Malia's hair.

"Christopher, what have I told you about bringing the girls?"

Peter heaved a long-suffering sigh as he looked up from the file on his desk. Chris loved that office, it was huge, with a large window front behind him, overseeing all of London. A display of power, something his husband had always loved. Smiling, Chris approached and grabbed Peter by the neck, pulling him into a kiss while the girls set up lunch.

"We aren't girls anymore," Allison pointed out. "We're twenty. Well, I'm twenty-one."

"Don't play the older card again," Malia rolled her eyes.

"Why are they arguing?" Peter asked, turning to Chris.

Mh. Chris blinked repeatedly. He actually had no idea, he'd fully tuned them out.

"We're arguing about the new menu at Stiles' Sweets!" Allison huffed. "Boyd let Erica talk him into adding something absolutely abominable that is not edible. Everyone in the pack knows not to let Erica make any food decisions. But his mate looks at him with the big, brown eyes, he caves."

"I think it's good," Malia glared. "It's weird, but that's good. Stiles liked weird. Stiles would have liked it a lot, so we should keep it on the menu."

For a moment, Chris couldn't breath, his hand grabbing Peter's shoulder to cling onto his husband. Peter wrapped an arm around Chris' waist, pulling him close. Even without seeing Peter's face, Chris knew there was a twist of pain on it. It had warmed their hearts when Boyd and Kira had opened their little café and honored their lost, beloved pack-mate by naming the café after him. But every time the boy came up in conversation, it still hurt the Alpha pair. It hurt a lot.

Peter had left first and he had chosen to not force Stiles to make a decision, had left Stiles behind and promised to come back for him. He never got the chance to. Months before graduation, Stiles and his father had died in a horrible car accident.

Chris felt the same. When he'd left that wretched town, with Allison and Isaac, he had left Stiles behind, had thought it would be wrong to force the boy to leave, thought Stiles would be safe and comforted by his pack. That that was where he needed to be to heal.

Now Stiles was gone forever and they could have prevented it if they had just taken the boy.

"What are you working on, Peter?" Allison asked in a soft voice, changing the topic.

The Alpha lifted his head to offer his stepdaughter a forced but grateful smile. "I'm looking through applicants. Since someone insists on me getting a personal assistant."

"The entire pack agrees that you need a personal assistant, babe," Chris huffed. "I love how much you are flourishing in your work, but you absolutely need someone else to organize it for you and to allow yourself to step back some. You have duties to this pack and this family."

Peter simply grumbled at that, making Chris smile a little. When the Hales had left Beacon Hills three years ago, they'd moved to London, to join the one member of the Hale Pack who had been forced to leave before them – Jackson Whittemore, dragged away by his parents when he had barely become a werewolf. With no ties to any other place, Peter, Derek, Cora, Boyd and Erica had decided to move to London, and Jackson had finally gotten to officially join the Hale Pack. With Jackson's father being a lawyer, Peter got a foot back into his old job, from before the fire. He'd worked hard to build a reputation and ultimately opened his own law-firm. Chris couldn't be prouder of his husband. Well, he could be, if Peter would delegate a little more.

"Show me," Chris ordered, grabbing one of the files.

Both Malia and Allison also perked up, walking around the desk to come to stand on either side of Peter. The smallest smile spread over Chris' lips as he watched Malia bump her hip against Peter's side, gently scent-marking her father. It had taken a lot of time, but the loss of Stiles had brought father and daughter closer together. Lydia had called Jackson, choking on tears as she told him about Stiles' death. They hadn't even bothered to pack anything, they'd left London with the clothes on their backs, not wanting to miss the funeral. The Hale Pack came back with two more members than they had arrived with. Lydia, who'd gone for an early graduation, and Malia, who had nobody and nothing left but her mate, had eagerly left Beacon Hills with her estranged family, now that Stiles was dead. Malia's mate Kira had followed them, right after graduation.

"Stiles," Malia whispered, drawing the attention of her family. "That's stupid. I'm sorry. I just…"

The other three turned toward the file she was looking at. Stiliyan Gajos, twenty years old. Currently working as a waiter. In fact, all his previous jobs were mostly customer service jobs. Nothing in the realm of being a secretary or working with a law firm. But his introductory letter did open up with him preferring to go by Stiles and Chris understood her impulse, that feeling of yearning at hearing that name. Chris heaved a sigh and held onto Peter a little tighter.

"Why not," Peter huffed with a bitter smile. "None of them seem perfect."

"You can't hire a stranger just because it'll mean you'll get to say his name again."

Peter fully ignored Chris' glare. Heaving an exasperated sigh, Chris went to sit down and eat before lunch would get cold. After exchanging a look, Malia and Allison joined him. The girls both had to go back to college after lunch, after all. They didn't have all day, as much as Chris would love that. He was proud of his girls, of both of them. Malia had really struggled with school, but she'd been determined to go to college, because Stiles had helped her so much, had been behind her education so she was trying to live up to his expectations, trying to make him proud even in death.

They all had a Stiles shaped hole in their lives. Their pack had a Stiles shaped hole.

/break\

Peter smiled bemused as he read up on the pack group chat. Erica and Cora were in an all-out brawl about Erica's latest idea for the menu on Stiles' Sweets, while Malia was trying to get some help on an assignment and Lydia, fully ignoring Cora and Erica, kept answering her questions.

It was strange, when Peter had learned the truth about Malia, about having a daughter, he hadn't expected to ever have a real relationship with her. He didn't know how to be a father. She didn't know how to be a human. It'd been stilted and awkward and distant. Until they lost Stiles. Peter had loved that boy and Stiles had been so important to Malia too. That loss had united them.

It had also brought them Lydia, something Peter had never seen coming. Yes, Jackson and Lydia still had their bond. A love that could literally break a curse wasn't something that easily faded, even if both of them pursued different sexual partners when Jackson moved to London. They stayed in contact, all this time. But she had her parents, and the McCall Pack, to keep her in Beacon Hills. It was Stiles' death that had made her leave, no longer able to look Scott in the face. She sought the familiar. Jackson and Allison, Malia had become a friend to Lydia too so her going to London had been another incentive for Lydia to leave. She was brilliant and scary and she would make a terrifying lawyer once she finished her education, Peter couldn't wait to see her in a courtroom.

Knocking on his door interrupted his thoughts, just as he typed a snarky reply to Erica's suggestion. Right, he had that blasted job interview. Heaving a sigh, he put his phone down. He didn't want a personal assistant, but his pack was probably right. Ever since he'd opened his own firm, he had been buried in work and he had other responsibilities too. A personal assistant would go a long way in organizing his appointment and keeping an overview, maybe even help him delegate.

"Come in," Peter called out, leaning back in his chair.

He liked to project an air of authority, threat and predator. After all, he was an Alpha wolf. Let's see how the Gajos boy would do. Peter had interviewed two others already, not impressed by them. And though the boy's preferred name should really not have swayed him, he couldn't help it. Even two years after Stiles' death, there was still a hole in Peter's heart. He loved Chris, loved Chris dearly, had fallen in love with Chris when the man had moved to London for the sake of Isaac, not wanting the boy to become an omega and seeking out Isaac's old pack for comfort. But regardless of how much he loved Chris, Peter doubted he'd ever stop loving Stiles.

"Thank you for having me, I…" Stiles Gajos trailed off, making a startled sound. "Peter?!"

Peter's head snapped up, his attention dragged back to the present day by that voice. That voice. His breath hitched as he looked at the young man in front of him. Messy, brown hair, longer than he remembered, but those moles, that cute upturned nose, the tempting, bow-shaped, pink lips and, most of all, those big, brown doe-eyes with the long lashes.

Peter couldn't breath. He stared at the phantom in front of him, before he growled viciously, his eyes flashing red as he jumped out of his chair and stalked up to the boy, backing him against the door, pinning him with Peter's hands on either side of his head. Doe-eyes widened in fear.

"I don't know what you are, or who you think you are, but you are crossing the wrong Alpha by daring to walk in here wearing his face," Peter snarled, shaking.

Fear melted into confusion, before realization set in. Those eyes, they may be fake but they were good fakes. They looked so real. Peter could see the cogs working behind them, the way he had always loved with his clever boy, so easily putting things together.

"You think I'm dead," the shapeshifter or face-stealer or whatever he was spoke. "Oh no."

"Stop playing games," Peter growled, putting a hand around the intruder's throat to hold him in place, to stop him from escaping. "He died. I was at his funeral. So what do you think gives you the right to use his face to taunt me. I'll make it hurt, I promise."

"Peter," the not-Stiles spoke softly. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't know how to contact you. I was stupid, when I told you to leave and not tell me where to. I didn't… I couldn't call you, any of you, to tell you that I'm alive. I faked my death, to get out of Beacon Hills."

Peter felt himself wavering, hope and despair twisting together. His hand around the boy's throat tightened. But those doe-eyes kept staring him dead in the eye, not afraid. A fake would be afraid at this point. The only one who'd never be afraid of him, not anymore, was Stiles. His Stiles.

"I need you to look at me, Peter," the voice was firm, was so much like Stiles' no-nonsense voice. "I'm wearing your jacket, the one you gave me before you left Beacon Hills. Last time you saw it, it was all new and shiny. It's worn, from years of usage. If I were some shapeshifter or whatever you think, then how would I know about that, how would I know to fake this detail. On top of knowing things that a simple face-stealer wouldn't know. You can only copy a person's memories perfectly if that person is still alive, so if I – Stiles – were dead, then there could not be a perfect copy here, smelling like the real deal, looking like the real deal, having detailed memories."

Smelling. Peter leaned in and the boy willingly, with no reluctance, bared his throat for Peter. Why would he, any werewolf could easily tear out his throat but an Alpha even more so. Making himself this vulnerable, why would he. Peter buried his nose in that long, pale neck, inhaling deeply. That scent of cinnamon, ink and lightning was the most unique blend he'd ever smelt and he would never forget it. A growl ripped from his throat, his hands both going down to grab the boy by the waist, clinging onto him, clinging onto the hope of this being real.

"You can't be unreal," Peter whispered, a near plea. "If this is a trick-"

"It's not," the boy rested his hands on Peter's chest. "I'm real. I… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't… I never wanted to hurt you, any of you, I just didn't know what else to do…"

Peter pushed off, hard. He walked back to his desk, grabbing his phone, typing out a message even as he turned around to get back to Stiles. Emergency pack meeting. Right now. Sending the text, he grabbed Stiles by the wrist, holding tight and pulling him along.

"I will be out of the office for the rest of the day, cancel all my appointments," Peter barked at the receptionist as he dragged Stiles with him into the elevator.

"Uhm, why are you kidnapping me? Where are we going?"

"Pack," Peter forced out, his grip on Stiles tightening. "I need others to see you, I need to make sure you're real. I need to know that I'm not losing my mind again."

"Okay," Stiles' voice was soft. "You're real too, huh?"

Peter's eyes flew down to the boy and he noticed movement. He was pressing his thumbs against the pads of his other fingers, one by one. Peter stilled, sucking in a sharp breath. Malia, Lydia and Kira had told them about this. That after the possession, Stiles had started counting his fingers that way, whenever he was doubtful if something was real or if he was dreaming. A face-stealing creature wouldn't know to do this and Peter's subconscious wouldn't know to add this detail to the hallucination, since he'd never actually seen Stiles do it.

"I am," Peter confirmed after a moment. "There is a lot that needs to be explained, on both sides."

Stiles hummed softly in confirmation, still counting his fingers. Peter's phone rang, startling them both. With his free hand, Peter fished his phone out of his pocket, noting that he had about two dozen notifications from the group chat already, before he accepted the call.

"Hello, love," Peter greeted, trying to breath and calm down.

"Don't 'hello, love' me like that, Hale," Chris barked out. "You can't just call for an emergency pack meeting and then drop out of the chat like that! Do you know how much you scared me? Are you hurt? Are you alright? Are you somewhere safe? Do I need to get to you?"

"I'm sorry," Peter winced. "I could have used more words. I'm fine, I'm not hurt, I'm not in any danger. I have… I have big news, I do have something urgent and the whole pack needs to see. Please organize the pups and herd them back home, I don't care if they still have classes. Tell Boyd and Erica to close the café early today."

Next to him, Stiles stilled at the mention of Boyd and Erica, doe-eyes widening as he stared at Peter with something like hope and longing. Peter clung onto Stiles like a life-line. He needed to be real.

"Peter…" Chris inhaled loudly. "This better be really important. I'll do it, I trust you, but…"

"I understand," Peter assured him. "I… I don't want to tell you over the phone. You need to see…"

If he told Chris that their boy was alive, he didn't know if Chris would be safe to drive home. And maybe Chris would think Peter had lost it, which Peter himself was still wondering.

"I love you," Chris declared gruffly. "Stay safe."

"Always," Peter smiled softly. "I love you too. I'll see you soon."

The call disconnected and Peter put his phone away, aware of Stiles' eyes on him. Curious and prodding, the way Peter remembered them. How much he had missed that inquisitive mind.

"Love, huh?" Stiles raised his eyebrows.

"At home," Peter shook his head. "Please."

Stiles nodded, understanding the need to digest. Probably needing that himself too right now. Stiles seemed as rattled by seeing Peter as Peter himself felt. His hand slipped from Stiles' wrist to properly take his hand, interlacing their fingers, holding onto the boy. Stiles squeezed his hand.

"The jacket looks good on you," Peter noted, looking at his boy. "I knew it would."

A quirk of Stiles' lip, that broad half-grin of his, all crooked and mischievous and beautiful. Peter's heart started racing as he got lost in that grin. He loved this boy so much. He'd missed this boy so much, he hadn't even realized just how much. Like he had lost a part of himself.

/break\

It wasn't a coincident. Peter was such a common first name and Hale wasn't a rare surname either. Why would Stiles expect to meet Peter Hale in London, after all. He'd never considered that the Hale Pack fully left the US. But when he walked into the lawyer's office, that was undeniably Peter Hale sitting there behind that imposing desk, looking handsome as ever.

Not going to lie, getting threatened by Peter had taken him by surprise at first, but when he realized that Peter had spent the past two years thinking Stiles was dead? Damn. It figured that the wolf would think him to be some kind of trick. Not that Stiles didn't think the same. He instinctively counted his fingers, unsure if this was real, if Peter was real.

"Where are we going?" Stiles asked as they drove out of the city.

"Home," Peter replied simply, voice warm and filled with love.

It made Stiles' heart ache in envy. He missed having a home. He had his dad, his dad was his home, but a place that felt like home? He did miss that. Folding a little smaller, he let himself be driven out of the city and onto a farm. His eyes widened at the beautiful, huge farm house.

"Welcome to the Hale Farm," Peter smiled as he parked the car. "Come."

Hale Farm. They had a farm. Oh, that somehow made Stiles happy. Large enough lands, a bit out of town so the wolves could roam free. Climbing out of the car, he eagerly looked around as much as he could see, even while Peter led him into the house.

"Uncle," Derek growled from somewhere once they entered the house. "What is…"

Derek. Stiles' eyes widened and he eagerly pushed past Peter to run in the direction of the voice. He hadn't seen Derek in years. Before they'd left, Derek had practically become his best friend after Scott. Rounding the corner, Stiles entered a spacious living room with three couches and two love seats and there stood Derek. He looked more mature and a little softer than Stiles remembered him, but it was Derek. Without thinking on it did Stiles launch himself at the wolf.

"Derek, holy shit, I missed you," Stiles gasped out.

The wolf beneath him was frozen, not moving. Oh. Right. Probably had the same reaction as Peter. Stiles really hoped nobody was going to rip his throat out today. Slowly, he peeled himself off Derek and took a step back. The look on Derek's face was wrecked. Fully heartbroken.

"No…" Derek's voice actually croaked. "This… This can't be… You're dead."

"I can explain, I will explain, please don't threaten me for thinking I'm a shapeshifter, your uncle already did that," Stiles blurted out. "I'm real. I'm alive. I didn't die. I'm not dead."

Whines drew his attention to the couches and he noticed the other wolves in the room. Erica was sitting on Boyd's lap, next to them was Isaac. On the other couch were Jackson and Cora. Stiles' heart jumped as he looked at the Hale Pack, a bright smile lighting up his face even though he was surprised to see Jackson here. But then he did dimly remember that four years ago, when Jackson had left, his parents had moved to London, Lydia had said something like that.

"A… Are you really real?" Erica asked in a shaky voice. "Are you really our Stiles?"

Our Stiles. Stiles' heart clenched and he blinked away tears as he nodded. The next second, he found himself in the middle of a suffocating puppy-pile. All five betas got off the couches and were suddenly hugging him – even Jackson. They were crying. Crying because they'd missed him, because they thought he was dead. Holy shit. He was sobbing himself, burying his face in Boyd's chest while Erica rubbed her face against his neck. This felt like coming home.

"Peter, you better have a good reason for this."

The voice was gruff and Stiles vaguely recognized it but couldn't place it. It had him tense.

"I still have two more classes," Lydia. "I got out of class early for this, make it good, Alpha."

Lydia was here. Why was Lydia here. Lydia was part of Scott's pack. Stiles' heart-rate picked up, and not in a good way. The betas clinging onto him let go reluctantly as the new arrivals entered the room. Stiles froze, fear gripping him as he saw Lydia, Malia, Kira, Chris and Allison enter.

"S… Stiles…" Lydia's voice broke, her eyes widening. "I knew it. I knew it. I would have screamed for you, if you had died, I would have screamed for you, I knew you couldn't be dead, I knew it."

The next second, the redhead was clinging onto his neck, nearly throwing him off-balance. Stiles couldn't help but flinch, more wary. Not necessarily because of her but because she wasn't Hale. She was McCall. So were Malia and Kira. Why were they here? Was Scott here too? Had they found him? Had they been looking for him? Was everything for naught now?

"W… Why are you here?" Stiles asked, voice a little frantic as he stared at Lydia, Kira and Malia. "Is… Is Sco… Is Scott here too? Is the rest of his pack here?"

"We're Hale Pack," Malia replied, tilting her head with a frown. "We left Beacon Hills with dad and the others, when they came back to Beacon Hills for your funeral."

Stiles' heart clenched at that. "Y… You came back for my funeral…? But… But…"

"Lydia called me," Jackson shrugged, not looking at him. "Lyds and I stayed in contact this whole time. She didn't know the Hale Pack was here though. Peter said he promised you not to let anyone in Beacon Hills know where they were, so I never told her. But I told them, when she told me about your… about your death. We came back for your funeral."

Everyone was staring at Stiles and his heart was racing. Between the Hale Pack – the Hale Pack he knew about – and the former McCall Pack members and the Argents, he was completely overwhelmed. Judging by the looks on their faces, they all were as overwhelmed though.

"Kira and I were at the grocery store," Chris spoke in a detached voice, his eyes not leaving Stiles, sounding like he was on autopilot. "We went to pick up the girls from college."

Chris and Allison approached him and he couldn't help but flinch away, half hiding behind Derek. They must hate him. How could they not hate him. He'd killed Allison. He'd killed Allison. His heart-rate picked up as panic took over, tears burning in his eyes. His thumbs pressed hard against the pads of his other fingers, one by one, counting. He couldn't look away from Allison.

"Stiles…?" Allison spoke softly, like she was talking to a spooked animal.

The others took a careful step back from him, like they were trying to give him space. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. Why would the Argents be here? The Hale Pack, maybe, maybe that could be real. But Lydia, Malia and Kira? That was too much, they had been the only ones he'd still relied on in the McCall Pack. But Chris and Allison? Why would they be here?

"This isn't real," Stiles whispered frantically to himself, aggressively counting his fingers. "You're not real. You can't be here. Why would you be here. This is just… just in my head."

Tears ran down his cheeks at that realization. Of course it was. He should have known the moment he walked into Peter's office. Why should he get to see Peter again? Why should he get to see Derek and Boyd and Erica and Isaac again? He didn't deserve that. His knees buckled.

"Stiles," Lydia's voice was sharp as she knelt down in front of him. "Listen to my voice. This is real. We're real. We're here, okay? Can you do something for me? Can you focus on your surroundings? Can you name four things you can see?"

Stiles' eyes flew around the room. "T… Table. Couch. Fur. Fireplace."

There was lamb fur in front of a fireplace. It looked so comfortable. The thought was jarring.

Lydia smiled at him. "Okay, good. And three things that you can here?"

"Birds," Stiles blinked repeatedly. "Your voice. Peter growling."

His eyes found the Alpha who stood tensely close by, looking like he was holding himself back.

"You're doing great, sweetie. Can you tell me two things that you can feel?"

He pressed a hand down onto the wooden floor, the other holding his jacket. "Wood. Leather."

"Good," Lydia's smile grew. "One last one? Can you read something for me?"

She pointed over toward the book-shelf behind Peter and Stiles jerked when he saw the book-titles. Could read the books titles. Ten fingers. Words. This was real. He took a shaky breath.

"A Midsummer Night's Dream," Stiles whispered, eyes on the book in the shelf.

"Good," Lydia brushed a hand through his hair. "You're doing great. Do you feel better?"

Stiles shook his head. No. He felt like throwing up what little he had in his stomach. His eyes went back to Chris and Allison, who stood there, frozen in the spot, looking at him with horrified expressions. Of course they did. He was a monster. He killed her.

"I'm sorry," Stiles voice broke, pleading with them. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I-"

"None of that," Lydia grabbed his face firmly, redirecting his attention to her. "I have no idea what's going on in your head right now, but you are not slipping into another panic attack, do you hear me? You'll breath, slowly, and calm yourself down enough to articulate what's wrong."

Stiles curled together, making himself small as he sat on the floor. The pack started moving slowly, like they didn't mean to spook him, sitting down on the couches. Stiles saw the way Peter slipped a hand into Chris' and wrapped his other arm around Allison in comfort. A sparkle on their linked hands caught Stiles' attention. Wedding bands. His breath hitched. Oh, this so could not be real, not only should the Argents not be here, but the two men he'd been in love with were married? Last time he had seen them interact, they were barely keeping from ripping each other apart.

"I need…" Stiles took a shaky breath. "I need you to make this make sense, I need you to explain why A… Why they are here, how this… Why you're here. I need you to make this feel real. Because it's just overwhelming and bizarre and unreal to me and that frightens me."

"Right. He's the one who died but we have to explain ourselves first," Jackson snorted.

There was an accusation in his eyes too and Stiles knew it was a deserved accusation.

"Jackson," Isaac snarled, eyes flashing, while Erica and Malia were right behind him.

"What?" Jackson snarled right back. "He died! We were at his funeral! We cried over his fucking grave and he's just here, alive, and we have to explain first?"

"He's also the one with possession-induced PTSD," Kira spoke up gently. "And all of us being together, without him understanding how, is currently making him question if this is even real."

Stiles folded himself even smaller, legs drawn up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around his knees, turning his wrist over to read the sentence etched into his skin – This is real. You're awake, Mischief. Written in his mother's handwriting, pieced together from his mother's cook-books. His heart clenched at the thought that he had left them behind. He had them scanned, on his drive, but the physical books, they couldn't take them when they left Beacon Hills. He started shaking.

"When we left Beacon Hills," Peter's voice was even, forcibly even. "Me, Derek, Cora, Boyd and Erica, we left and came here, because of Jackson. Because he was a beta of the Hale Pack, even as he'd had to leave. We had no other place to go, so we followed Derek's first beta."

Stiles sucked his lower lip in, regarding the core Hale Pack and Jackson. "Okay."

"When we left Beacon Hills," Chris spoke up and Stiles instinctively flinched at his voice, causing Chris to hesitate for a moment before he continued. "We went to France for three weeks, more a vacation, really. But Isaac needed a pack, and I figured that he would be more stable, more happy, with his pack, so I spent our weeks in France tracking down the Hale Pack."

Stiles blinked repeatedly, looking at Isaac. Isaac, leaning against Boyd and Erica. The first three Hale Pack betas. Stiles knew how much Isaac had missed them. After the Hale Pack had left, Isaac crawled into Stiles' bedroom many nights, seeking solace, knowing that he couldn't talk to Scott about how much he missed the Hales, knowing Stiles missed them too. This made sense.

"Okay," Stiles nodded, not looking away from Isaac, not looking at the Argents.

"You died, Stiles," Lydia's voice wobbled. "We all thought you died and I called Jackson, I told him, I cried on the phone with him for hours, and they came. They came for the funeral. It was… tense, it nearly escalated into a fight with Scott's pack, but they came. And when I saw Jackson again, after all this time, when he held me while we stood at your grave, when I thought that… that you were gone forever, I didn't know what else was holding me in Beacon Hills. Allison, Jackson, they were both in London and you were dead and I had graduated early anyway, so I packed my bags and left so I could have my boyfriend and my best friend."

Stiles' lips quirked as he watched Lydia reach for Jackson's hand. He always knew those two would find each other again. A love that could defy a curse, how could it not withstand the distance.

"Lydia and you were like my favorite people in the pack, after Kira," Malia frowned. "And then you were dead and Lydia said she was leaving and I… You always told me that I should try and rekindle my relationship with my dad, it was… it was so important to you and it felt like… like something I could do that would make you proud, so I gave him a chance and went with them."

The tentative smile turned into a genuine, bright smile at that. He'd bugged her for months, wanting her to give Peter a chance, knowing that post-resurrection Peter was a better man. He also knew what it was like to lose family and he thought that she shouldn't miss out on the family she still had – the father and the two cousins that she never bothered to get to know.

"I stayed in Beacon Hills until I graduated," Kira tagged on. "And I eased my parents into the idea of me moving to London after graduation and, yeah, I… I followed Malia and Lydia and got to know the Hale Pack and then I joined it and now we're… now we're pack."

Okay. One by one, these made sense. Their reasoning made sense. Stiles took a shaky breath.

"This is really real? You're really all here in one room?" Stiles asked one last time.

"It is, sweetheart," Peter promised gently. "Will you tell us how you're alive now?"

Stiles went back to chewing his lip, hard. He wished he didn't have to. He'd tried so hard not to think about any of this for the past two years, pushing it down as far as he could. His eyes landed on Allison for just a moment before he quickly averted his gaze again.

"I think things between me and Scott had… had been crumbling for a long time, maybe since the bite," Stiles started softly, pulling himself closer together. "But something between us broke when I… when I killed Allison. He couldn't really look at me anymore, we stopped hanging out, and I can't blame him for it. I couldn't look at myself anymore."

"Stiles, you didn't kill me," Allison interrupted concerned. "I'm right here. I'm alive. Is… Is this something that the demon made you think? A nightmare?"

Stiles' face twisted into a grimace and he tried to make himself even smaller. "I killed you."

"No, you didn't," Chris' voice was firm and serious. "The demon stabbed Allison, but even it didn't kill her. Stiles, look at me. You did not kill Allison."

Stiles couldn't fight the command in the hunter's voice and he looked up at Chris, tears running down his cheeks. "I did. It stabbed her and it made me watch, a… and… and she died. When Lydia screamed that day, she… she didn't scream because someone might die, she screamed because Allison did die. She died in my arms and I was too late. I could fight for control but it was too late and Allison was dead and I killed her and it was my fault-"

"Allison isn't dead, sweetheart," Peter interrupted him firmly. "This was some trick from the demon. I'm sorry it made you see that, believe that, but…"

"No," Stiles shook his head frustrated. "She died but I couldn't let her stay dead. I used my Spark. I poured all of my magic into her to pull her soul back. It was… I… I think in the end, that's why we managed to exorcise the Nogitsune, because it had been feeding off my magic, but… I didn't have any magic left after that, there was nothing there to sustain it anymore."

"Y… You… I died? And you gave up your magic to bring me back?"

Stiles reluctantly turned toward Allison, tears staining his cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I killed you, I didn't, I wasn't strong enough to stop it, I couldn't stop it, I'm sorry."

"You gave up your magic to save my life, Stiles," Allison's brows furrowed and she shook her head. "You have nothing to apologize for. What the demon did wasn't your fault, nobody blames you for what the Nogitsune did. But you chose to give your magic for me, I don't know how to thank you."

She threw herself at him, hugging him close and tight, burying her face in his neck as she also started crying, her body shaking with her sobs. Stiles just sat stiffly in her arms. Why didn't she hate him? He had killed her. She should hate him. That was why they had left, after all.

"W… Why are you hugging me," Stiles asked unsure. "You hate me. You should hate me. You left. Because I killed you. You left to get away from me."

There were surprised gasps, but all Stiles could do was look at Allison with fear and confusion. "Stiles, no… We didn't leave because of you. We left because this town killed everyone in our family. My aunt, my mom, my grandfather – they may not have been good people and they have brought it upon themselves, but they were still our family. And now this town nearly killed me. K… Killed me, apparently. Isaac was the same, he lost his mom, his brother, his father. We left to get away before this town could also kill us. That wasn't about you."

"I wanted to take you with us," Chris added reluctantly. "I wanted to get you out of this town too, after what it had done to you. But you had your dad, you had… Scott, his pack."

Stiles flinched, this time not because of Chris' voice but because of the mention of Scott. "Yeah, well… that didn't last. What happened, what I did as the Nogitsune, it… it drove a wedge between us. We drifted more and more apart, gradually… And I get it…"

"Is… Is that why you pulled away from me? From us?" Lydia asked softly. "Because you thought we blamed you for what happened with Allison? Or for Allison leaving?"

Stiles shrugged and frowned, not looking at her. The next moment, he had Lydia, Malia and Kira hugging him tightly from three sides, clinging onto him. He sat there still and overwhelmed.

"Is that why you… what exactly happened even?" Boyd asked with a frown. "What happened?"

"Theo…" Stiles frowned, checking the others' faces to see if they knew who he was talking about. "Theo got into Scott's head, he gained Scott's trust to a degree that… that Scott trusted him more than me. I kept trying to warn him, for months I tried to warn him."

"We know," Lydia heaved a sigh, furrowing her own brows in guilt. "I'm sorry. We didn't… He was very charming, we thought you were… you were in a fragile state of mind."

"Paranoid," Stiles offered, raising his eyebrows at her. "I was paranoid. It's just that I wasn't paranoid about that. That was real. And… And Scott's not the only one into whose head he got. It was like Theo knew exactly where my weaknesses laid. It was so easy to believe him because he didn't say anything I wasn't already fearing myself. That Allison and Chris left because of me, hated me for what I'd done, that you hated me for what I've done, that I should give up on trying to find the Hales because I'd just be a burden, I was suck a fucking mess I'd just be too much work for anyone, that… that it would have been better if you'd just taken the Nogitsune out instead of trying to save me because then so many people would still be alive, Aiden would still be alive, I wouldn't have killed Allison, everything would have been better if you'd just killed me."

There was a near painful silence in the room, all eyes so unbearably heavy as they stared at him. Pained expressions, aborted motions, mouths opening and closing, lost for words.

"Stiles, we would have never given up on you," Chris' voice was steady and honest. "We would have always tried to save you, letting you die was not an option and you can't think-"

"It's okay," Stiles heaved a sigh and leaned back, resting his head against the couch behind him. "I know that. Now. But I'm telling you what happened two years ago. I… I know now that that was the survivor's guilt and the way Theo was gaslighting me, twisting me up. I went to therapy, you know. When dad and I lived in Toronto, I started seeing a therapist. I'm… I'm good, I mean better. Generally I am better, I'm not always such a fucking mess like I am right now. This is just all… a whole damn lot of triggers at once, okay? But I am in a… better place, overall."

"Toronto," Cora repeated, staring at him.

"Right," Stiles ran a hand over his face. "So, yeah. Theo was really getting into my head, and into Scott's head, and I was… barely part of the pack anymore already by the time he sent Donovan to kill me and I… killed Donovan in self-defense. But… Scott didn't believe me. Scott believed Theo over me, loaded it over my head that in his pack, we don't kill and it was… it was so loaded. It wasn't just about Donovan. It was about killing Peter, about our fight over how we should have killed Gerard for good the first time around, about Allison and Aiden. We've been drifting apart for a long time and so did our morals. I've never had a problem with killing if it was necessary, because sometimes it is necessary, and he… hated that. Everything has always been black and white for him. But once you've been possessed by a millennia old chaos demon, you gain a much better understanding for all the shades of gray in the world. And I already had a good grasp on it before."

Stiles relaxed a little, stretching his legs out in front of himself and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. "Donovan, when he was trying to kill me, talked about the way he was going to kill my dad and that's when I knew I had to get out. Because Theo sent Donovan. To intimidate me. If I didn't stop, Theo was going to have my dad killed and… most ikely, also get me killed. I… I didn't know what to do. Theo had effectively isolated me from pretty much everyone, Scott didn't trust me anymore, I thought you didn't trust me anymore, I had no means of contacting the Hale Pack, I… I didn't know what to do. I knew he wouldn't stop until we're dead, so… so we died. We faked out deaths and we left Beacon Hills."

Taking a shaky breath, Stiles relaxed a little more. "We made our way to Canada, very… very… slowly. I mean, we had to leave everything behind, so nobody would suspect we left. No money, no car, nothing but the clothes on our backs. So we hitchhiked, we walked, we… worked every odd job we could to make enough money to stay in motels. We stayed in some towns for a couple weeks, saving up, until we could finally afford a car. Shitty car that barely made it to Toronto."

Stiles was aware that he'd snuggled more into his jacket when talking about the clothes on their backs, he was also aware of the way Peter was watching him. "We lived in Toronto for the longest. Before we came here, to London. I've… I've only been doing odd jobs, waiting tables, customer service, grocery stores, anything I could get. That and, well, healing, I guess. Therapy and all that."

Heaving a sigh, Stiles tilted his head forward to look at Peter. "I didn't expect it to be you. The name caught my eye when I was looking for a job and it… made me feel nostalgic. But even when I read your first name, I still… I figured it was a coincident. What were the chances, after all. I didn't think you left the US, much less that you'd end up in England."

Sitting up, Stiles started tapping his fingers against his knee, a small grin spreading over his lips. "Guess it wasn't a coincident at all. While we were living in Toronto, when I… finally got to breath again without jumping at every sound I heard… When therapy started showing some effect, my Spark started… returning. Really weak, but I could feel it again for the first time."

Allison gasped softly and there were gentle and excited looks on the others' faces. Stiles rested a hand against his chest, like he was physically trying to grasp his Spark. He could feel it pulse.

"That's why we left Toronto," Stiles continued. "Because my Spark was pulling me to London. And now, I think, that my Spark's what drew me to that ad and made me go to that job interview."

"Are you saying your Spark likes me?" Peter offered a playful grin.

Stiles blinked at him with curious eyes. "Of course it does. It first ignited when I was part of the Hale Pack. My magic is inherently linked to your pack, so it was pulling me here."

"Oh," Peter swallowed and looked at him wondrously. "That… I didn't know that."

A shrug, and then Stiles averted his eyes again. "There's an interplay between the Nemeton, the Spark and the pack. I guess… Beacon Hills is now fully fucked, the Nemeton was already dying, the pack left and now its Spark left too… But yeah. The Hale Pack is the rightful pack of Beacon Hills and I'm the rightful Spark of Beacon Hills, so… we are tethered together."

Silence fell between them as everyone let things sink in. That was a lot to digest, on both sides. Stiles yawned and arched his back, causing it to crack in multiple places. This had been draining. His phone rang, the sound immensely loud in the silence of the farm house. Yelping, Stiles dug his phone out and accepted his dad's call and shit how much time had passed?

"Stiles," his dad sounded frantic. "Your job interview should have ended two hours ago, but I just got home and you're not here, it doesn't look like you were here at all and you didn't leave a note, please tell me you're just out somewhere celebrating your new job and you forgot to text me, because if something happened, if someone found you-"

"Dad, dad, slow down!" Stiles hunched over, wide-eyed. "I'm fine. I'm sorry. I'm fine. Nothing happened, nobody found me. Mischief's honor."

He could hear the relieved shutter of his dad's breath. It was their code. Mischief's honor, to make sure Stiles wasn't under duress and forced to lie. Stiles took a slow breath himself.

"Where are you, kiddo? When will you be home?"

"I… uh…" Stiles blinked doe-eyed, looking around the tense pack. "I kinda… ran into some friends. I don't know when I'll be home. I'll text you before I leave, I promise. I'm sorry I worried you, I didn't mean to worry you. Kocham cię, tatusiu." [Polish translation: I love you, dad.]

That also relaxed his dad some. It always did. He knew Stiles was safe if he was comfortable speaking Polish. They had too many contingencies and codes. Paranoia still had its hold on them.

"I love you too, kiddo," John sighed. "Tell me how the job interview went, before we hang up?"

"Uhm…" Stiles tilted his head. "Honestly, I have no idea. My potential boss kinda threatened tearing out my throat and then kidnapped me, so mixed vibes?"

"Stiles," his dad barked out in distress. "Are you trying to kill me, son?"

"I'm sorry," Stiles laughed, loud and genuine. "I could not resist. Remember when I said it was a weird coincident that the guy's name was Peter Hale? Yeah, that was not a coincident. I'm with the Hales right now. The threatening was, uh, well, I mean he thought I was dead."

Silence and he could just imagine his dad rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Peter Hale? As in, Derek Hale's uncle? The guy who got us into this whole damn mess by turning Scott?"

"My apologies for that, sheriff," Peter called out loudly. "I spend every day regretting it."

Another beat of silence. "And you're really okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah," Stiles smiled, a real smile. "I promise. I'll text before I head back home. Mischief's honor."

The call disconnected and Stiles pocketed his phone again. The pack was looking at each other, having silent conversations with just looks. Derek and Peter did a full eyebrow conversation and fuck, Stiles had missed that. The Hale eyebrows. He couldn't help but smile.

"What are you guys doing here?" Stiles asked after another moment. "I mean, actually doing. Peter is a lawyer. But what about you all…? How… How have your lives been?"

"I am on my way to becoming a lawyer," Lydia smiled like a shark. "And my future father-in-law and my Alpha are fighting over who gets me in their firm."

Peter grumbled at that, glaring. "David can fuck right off. I'm your Alpha."

"Me and Boyd opened a café together," Kira smiled brightly. "Did you know that Boyd is a brilliant baker, actually? You have to come by some time, on the house!"

"Yeah?" Stiles grinned, looking between them. "What's it called."

Silence, awkward silence, before Boyd cleared his throat. "It's called Stiles' Sweets."

At that, Stiles actually had to blink some tears away. "Oh. I… Well, then I have to come by."

"I work there too, mostly waiting tables, barista work," Erica piped in before the atmosphere dropped. "No interest in being the boss, but having a lot of fun with the menu."

"You are a menace and should not be allowed near food," Allison pointed out dryly.

Erica flipped her off and threw a pillow at her, causing Allison to laugh and oh. They were friends now. Pack. This was new and strange to Stiles, but he still felt warm at it. At some of his favorite people actually getting along, being friends.

"I'm going to college," Malia straightened, looking proud.

"You are?" Stiles brightened and reached out to nudge her. "I'm so proud of you, I always knew you had it in you, girl. I'm sure you're rocking it."

Malia practically preened at his words, making Stiles smile even more. Allison smiled at him.

"I'm also going to college, I'm a business major. I want to open a store, for outdoors activities like archery and hunting. The Silver Arrow, it's gonna be named," Allison replied.

"We," Isaac pointed at himself, Derek, Cora, Jackson and Chris. "Work at the farm."

"So this isn't just a gig for more space to roam free? It's an actual farm?"

"Yeah," Derek grunted, proud look on his face. "We grow apples, we sell our chickens' eggs and our vegetables at farmers' markets in the city."

"That's awesome," Stiles grinned at him.

"How about food?" Cora suggested after a moment. "It's getting late."

There was an awkward pause in which Stiles didn't really know if he should excuse himself, before Erica and Malia wrapped their arms around him from either side and maneuvered him up and toward the very spacious, very beautiful kitchen. Guess he was staying for dinner.

"If you think we're letting you go again, you are mistaken," Erica whispered, nudging him. "We should have chloroformed and kidnapped you back when we left."

"You're so loving and kind, I feel so cherished," Stiles rolled his eyes.

"She isn't wrong," Peter spoke behind him, face and voice serious, his eyes filled with regret. "I should have insisted. I shouldn't have waited, I shouldn't have left you behind."

The rest of the pack started fussing around the kitchen, getting ingredients and pots and pans out and preparing dinner in what was clearly a daily routine. Stiles turned around to face the Alpha. Peter's arms were crossed over his face, a deep frown aimed at him.

"I would have resented you for it," Stiles replied honestly. "I had so much faith in Scott, so much loyalty toward him. And I had my dad and… and mom's… grave. I would have resented you if you'd tried to force me to leave back then. You did the right thing, Peter. You and your pack got out when you had to and you… promised me a chance. It's just that… it never came to that."

Stiles blinked back tears, swallowing a lump in his throat. "I wanted to wait, I endured it as long as I could, I… I kept hoping that you would come. But… I couldn't. I had to get out, I… don't think I would have survived until graduation. Either Theo would have killed me, or… well, or everything else would have killed me. I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't eating, I couldn't focus. I lost so much weight and I was… really losing my mind, I think my body would have given in before graduation."

It was harsh, but he knew it was the truth. Something clattered behind him and he didn't care to see the despair on the pack's faces. He kept his eyes on Peter's hand. The wedding band.

"We should have noticed," Lydia's voice was filled with pain and guilt.

"I did everything I could to cover it up," Stiles shrugged. "And I did pull away from you. I don't blame you for not rescuing me, Lydia. That wasn't your job. That was nobody's job. I had to rescue myself. And I think… I really do think that I needed to do that myself, because with the Nogitsune, I had all my agency taken from me. I needed to regain control. And I did."

"And we're proud of you for it," Chris spoke, keeping his voice soft.

Still trying not to spook him, which… fair enough, considering his earlier reactions. Stiles winced, rubbing his face. He turned around, away from Peter, so he could face Chris. Damn. That man aged like fine wine in the past two years, much more gray in his hair, fully owning the silver fox look. Broader shoulders, stronger arms, which made sense with the physical labor around the farm.

"I really thought you'd hate me," Stiles frowned at him. "But you… really didn't leave because of me, huh? I'm sorry. It was just… It was easier to believe that you hated me than to think you could forgive me, because I couldn't forgive myself and I… hated myself, for a long time. Maybe still hate myself a little bit, but considerably less than I did back then."

Chris heaved a sigh, a sad and devastated sound, as he stepped up to Stiles. "Can I hug you?"

That gave Stiles pause, but after a moment he gave a reluctant nod. He gasped softly when he was pulled into a broad, strong chest, arms tight around him. It took him a second to return the hug, but damn did this feel good. It also reawakened stupid, old feelings. Feelings that had grown after Peter and Derek had left, when Chris had become the sole adult voice near the McCall Pack. Still deeply in love with Allison, Scott had consulted Chris a lot, trying to show his respect for the man. And due to that, Stiles had worked together with Chris a lot, growing closer. Falling for the older man.

"We're all very proud of you, Stiles," Chris whispered, voice rough and breath hot against Stiles' neck. "For working through your trauma, for getting out all on your own. We're proud of you."

And just like that, Stiles started crying. Tears of relief and joy and confusion. And Chris simply held him, stroking his back through it until Stiles was calmed down again, and even after. Once Stiles regained his bearings, he gently tapped Chris' arm, at which the man reluctantly let him go.

"What about your fake name," Allison asked once things were calmed down. "The Stiliyan, because you could nickname it to Stiles. Which… Which is why Peter picked you to get a job interview. When we were going through the applications, yours stood out because it made us think of, well, of you, and… that made Peter nostalgic. But what about your last name?"

"Mom's maiden name," Stiles grinned weakly. "Not the best kind of fake name, I know, I know, but… but I had to sacrifice Roscoe and we had to leave the place where she is buried and… we wanted to take a part of her with us. Our first names are fake, we figured that'd be enough."

Chris rested a hand on his shoulder, gently guiding Stiles to sit at the very large dining table. Cora and Kira were setting the table, while Derek was filling wine glasses. Peter took a seat to one side of Stiles, sitting close. Close enough that Stiles could feel the heat radiating off the wolf. There was a tenseness to his body, like the Alpha was holding back something.

"You can scent-mark me if you want," Stiles offered after a moment.

Peter startled, looking like he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Are you sure?"

"I can see how much you want to," Stiles huffed amused. "It's… been a while since I had a wolf want to scent-mark me last, but if you want to, you can."

The tension seeped out of Peter as he reached out, running a hand through Stiles' hair, down his arm, resting it in his neck. Damn, Peter was not being subtle or short. Apparently, the Alpha really had the urge to scent mark him. That should not make Stiles feel as pleased as it did. He really thought he had gotten over his infatuation with Peter, back when he started falling for Chris, or at least in Toronto, when he had been with a girl, who had been so sweet.

"I really hope you're not limiting that offer to Peter," Chris chuckled, motioning at the counters and stove. "Because the betas look ready to burst and if you deny them they just might."

Stiles followed the motion with his eyes, noticing how Derek, Cora, Malia, Boyd, Erica, Isaac and even Jackson were looking at him like he was the juiciest steak they could imagine. It made Stiles grin, his heart skipping a beat and a warmth unfurling in his chest.

"How about this, after dinner, we have a big puppy pile and everybody gets to scent the Stiles however much they want?" Stiles offered amused. "But after dinner, because I am actually starving. I haven't eaten all day, I was way too nervous this morning and we kind… missed lunch."

Peter growled lowly and Chris grunted displeased and Stiles looked between them startled. What?

"You shouldn't skip meals, Stiles," Peter glared at him.

Stiles rolled his eyes at that. "Yeah, believe me, I know. Took me long enough to regain the weight I lost over the Nogitsune. I didn't mean to skip breakfast, but I have a system. I carry cereal bars with me and I do… I rather skip a meal when I know my nerves are just going to make me throw up. So, the plan was to get through the job interview, eat my cereal bars and then have lunch somewhere. Didn't get around to steps two and three there due to the minor kidnapping happening."

To his amusement and surprise did Peter actually look guilty at that. How adorable. Leaning closer, Stiles bumped shoulders with Peter, trying to ease some tension. This was going to take some getting used to. For too long, his dad had been the only one to care about him. Now, there seemed to be people in his life again who cared about him and judging by the way they were all looking at him, they were not going to let him slip away again.

/break\

Chris grunted as he hefted a crate of apples up. He turned around with it, rolling his eyes when he saw Allison, Lydia and Kira all sitting together and watching them. Lydia's eyes were glued to Jackson, delighted to see her fiance do physical labor, while Kira was more subtle in sneaking glances at Malia, flushing every time she felt like she got caught. Allison grinned at her dad, waving. Her and Lydia were technically doing school work and Kira was working on the work schedule for her café. Meanwhile, Erica, Boyd and Malia were helping out at the farm right now. They always did when it was time for harvest, because in the end, it was their family business.

Chris took a deep breath. That still felt good to think. That he had a family again. Not just through his husband, with their daughters. But being the Alpha Mate, he had developed a whole different kind of appreciation for a wolf pack, unlike how he had felt toward the McCall Pack. These betas? They were his betas, they were his family. They'd helped him recover.

"Stiles texted," Lydia called out delighted.

It made Chris snort, the way all betas immediately perked up. Ever since Peter had run into Stiles last week and a half, they were all pretty much obsessed with the boy. At least two betas managed to see Stiles every day, they had lured the boy back to the farm once already for dinner, Stiles had gone to have lunch three times at Stiles' Sweets over this past week. Quite frankly, Chris was impressed by their self-control. Every night, Chris had to fight Peter on how much the Alpha wanted to go and just drag Stiles into their den and not let him leave. Last time Stiles was over for dinner, on Saturday, the Alpha – and his betas too – hadn't wanted to let the boy go again.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Jackson growled, nuzzling her neck.

Partially to be close to his mate, partially to look over her shoulder at her phone. It made Chris chuckle, the way the betas were practically circling Lydia, waiting for more information.

"He said that him and his dad would love to come over for dinner on Friday."

"Yes," Erica actually fist-bumped the air.

"At which part do we show him his bedroom and then just lock him into it?" Malia asked.

"No," Allison gave her step-sister a glare. "We are not doing that, Mal. We talked about it."

"We did," Malia nodded. "And I still don't agree with your point of view. The whole pack lives in this house. But Stiles has only been over twice. I only saw him four times in the past ten days, that's just not enough. That's wrong. He needs to be here."

Erica, Boyd, Isaac and Cora sat down in front of them on the ground, with Erica leaning against her mate and putting her feet into Cora's lap. Boyd's fingers gently carded through Erica's curls.

"And we all agree with you on that, Mals," Erica assured her, heaving a long-suffering sigh. "I just want to hug him and never let go, now that we know he's alive. It's like I'm afraid that it was just a nice dream after all, every time he leaves again, that we won't get to see him again."

"But," Kira redirected, pressing a soothing kiss to Malia's cheek. "Stiles has been through a lot and we don't want to push him. We want to ease him into this, into joining our pack."

Shaking his head, Chris walked past the betas, leaving them to their debate – a debate Chris has had with both Malia and Peter repeatedly over the past week, father and daughter very much agreed on their preferred method of keeping Stiles. Inside the house, he found his husband, sitting in the living room on the fur in front of the fireplace, his laptop on his thighs. He wasn't working though, he was very clearly listening in on the betas' debate outside.

"Babe," Chris grunted, sitting down next to Peter and wrapping his arms around the Alpha's waist. "No, we are not kidnapping Stiles and keeping him."

A grumble that had no right to be as cute as it was came from the wolf. "You are no fun, Christopher. He is alive. He is here. He should be ours."

Not like Chris could argue that. Losing Stiles was what had driven the two of them together. They'd cried and screamed and fought – physically fought – blaming each other for not getting their boy out of there. Heated kisses with more biting than tenderness had followed. Rough sex that was more hate sex than genuine passion for each other. Over the following months, that hate sex turned into something filled with love, as the two held each other through the loss. They both had been in love with Stiles, still were, a traitorous part of Chris' brain supplied, and they had lost him. That loss had made Chris and Peter who they were now, had brought them together.

"I love you, Christopher," Peter spoke fiercely, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I can see your thoughts on your face and him being alive does not change anything between us."

The smallest smile played on Chris' lips as he nodded. "Okay. But it does change something, doesn't it? Seeing him again, seeing him alive, having him in our home, with our pack…"

"It does," Peter admitted, leaning back against Chris' chest. "But I'm… As selfish as I may be, I don't need him to be mine, I just need him to be back in my life."

"Not need, but want?" Chris asked, a small, teasing smile on his lips.

He nuzzled Peter's neck, the Alpha shuddering in his arms. "Of course."

Of course. Chris chuckled, relaxing against his husband. Of course.

/break\

Stiles was eager as they drove onto the farm. Giddy. Coming here, even though this was only the third time he was actually at the farm, felt like coming home. It shouldn't and the intensity of it was near scary to Stiles, but oh it did. Ever since Peter had kidnapped him to the farm for the first time, not a day had passed without him interacting with someone from the pack. They'd gotten his number, during their puppy pile after dinner, and they texted him daily. They put him into their pack group chat and Stiles tried not to see any implications in that.

Stiles' Sweets was beautiful, Kira's touch was all over the place and the food Boyd made was delicious and Erica, whenever not busy with a customer, would be so stupidly cute with Boyd. Her hair was shorter than it used to be, while Boyd actually had hair now, wearing it in chin-long twists, stubble dusting his strong jawline. They'd grown up. And they were happy. Not just with each other, though they were so clearly so deeply in love and Stiles just knew that Boyd was hiding an engagement ring somewhere, waiting for the perfect time, but they were also happy where they were. With their business, their pack, the place in their life.

And Kira! Kira had gained so much confidence, she loved her business so much and if possible, she had become even more badass. On Tuesday, Stiles, Kira and Lydia had taken out a ghoul together and it had felt exhilarating. For so long, he'd avoided all supernatural threats, fearing that it would just trigger him. But with his friends at his side? It was exciting.

He'd gone to the university library with Allison, Malia and Lydia and he might have fallen a little in love with that library. It was so big, so many books, urgh. Knowledge. He hadn't even realized how much he missed absorbing knowledge. He never stopped his research binges, but they were random, unfocused. This? This reminded him just how much he loved it, missed it.

Lydia, Erica, Cora and Allison were so busy planning Lydia and Jackson's wedding and they'd shown him all the folders and plans on Thursday. Her dress, the venue, the cake. Every little detail meticulously planned because of course it was, this was Lydia Martin's wedding, after all.

He'd started talking to Jackson. Three days after his first visit at the farm, Jackson had called him. For a bunch of minutes, they simply shared silence. Before Jackson started talking. About the kanima, what that had been like and oh. For the first time, Stiles could talk to someone who understood. At the very least understood what it was like to have your body controlled by someone else, used to murder innocent people. Something in his chest eased at that. They'd been texting daily about the kanima and the Nogitsune since then and over the course of a week, Stiles started to feel such a close kinship with Jackson in a way he never expected.

Isaac and Derek bullied him into helping them on the farm, during his second visit. But it was actually fun. The three of them played around and he got to see them both laugh freely in a way he never had seen back in Beacon Hills. It made him realize just how much things had changed.

The toughest were Chris and Peter though. They had taken Stiles out to lunch four times, to dinner twice. Never together though. They hadn't brought up their marriage yet either. And it was impossibly confusing, because every time he went out with one of them, it felt like a date. Maybe that was just his hopeful mind, clouded by old feelings that came back with a vengeance.

"You're going to love it, dad," Stiles grinned as him and his dad got out of their car.

John looked skeptical, even as he surveyed the farm. "It looks gorgeous."

The grin on Stiles' lips widened. The two of them headed for the main house and even before Stiles could knock, Isaac opened the door. The blonde puppy grinned and immediately went to nuzzle Stiles, scent-marking him. Stiles hadn't realized how much he missed the casual affections of pack, but he relished how affectionate the pack was with him. Isaac grabbed his hand and dragged him into the kitchen, where the dinner table was already set and half the pack was comfortable while the other half was working on dinner. Stiles barely got through the door before the pups lounging about got up to scent-mark him, Boyd and Jackson shoving each other to get Stiles first.

"Stop fighting," Stiles laughed. "There is enough Stiles to go around for everyone."

"We wouldn't have to fight over it if you would just live here and we could scent-mark you every day," Malia growled displeased, rubbing her chin against his.

Stiles stilled between them, even more so when Peter growled low in warning at his daughter. Stiles didn't know what that meant. He really tried not reading anything negative into that growl, like Peter not wanting him in the pack. Thankfully, his dad noticed the tension and cleared his throat.

"My son's not the only guest you're having, you know."

"Sheriff," Chris forced a polite smile, reaching a hand out.

"Not the sheriff anymore," a thin smile on his dad's lips. "Mister Argent."

"Chris," Chris corrected. "First names, if you don't mind? Noah."

"John," his dad corrected bemused. "I got… very used to the name over the past years."

"John," Chris nodded, shaking hands with John. "Welcome to our home."

Stiles let himself be pulled down onto Jackson's lap, the former kanima resting his chin on Stiles' shoulder. If someone had told him five years ago, he would ever willingly sit on Jackson Whittemore's lap – well, okay actually he would have on account of his giant bisexual crush on the jerk, but still, the point stood. He grinned as he leaned against Jackson and reached out to run a hand over Cora's arm, scent-marking the youngest Hale.

"I made apple crumble for desert," Boyd noted. "You said you liked that when you were at the café earlier this week and we just harvested fresh apples yesterday."

Stiles perked up delighted. "Erica, you need to lock that down or else I will propose to him."

Boyd flustered and laughed. Hah. Stiles just knew the big guy was hiding an engagement ring somewhere. If he got a chance, he would be snooping around the house to find it. He smiled softly as he relaxed into the pack. It was so easy to feel comfortable and at home with them.

/break\

John heaved a deep sigh, his hands wrapped around his mug of coffee. He'd been up since five AM even though it was a Saturday and his day off. However, yesterday was still laying heavy in his stomach. Seeing Stiles with the Hale Pack was the first time in years – even before they'd left Beacon Hills – that he saw his son genuinely happy. Smiling in a way that lit up his eyes. The ease with which Stiles interacted with them too, the casual touches and caresses and straight up cuddling. He sat in Jackson Whittemore's lap for ten minutes before dinner and spent dinner pressed up against Derek Hale. After dinner, when everyone went to the living room for the apple crumble (the best damn apple crumble John had ever eaten in his life), Stiles had practically been passed around between the pack, the spots to his left and right changing people every five minutes. By the time the night ended, Stiles was on the floor in front of the couch, Peter and Chris on either side of him, their legs pressing up against his arms and he looked so content.

"Da—ad," Stiles drawled the word out when he entered the kitchen. "Is something wrong?"

"Sit down, son," John motioned at the other chair. "I think we need to talk."

They only had two chairs in their kitchen, because there was never another person. Stiles hadn't made friends since they got here, much less shown romantic interest in anyone. It had been just the two of them for too long now and yesterday had reminded him that it shouldn't be that way.

"What's wrong?" Stiles asked, looking tense now.

"Malia spoke about wanting to keep you at the farm yesterday," John spoke slowly. "I saw the look on your face, even while you were trying to hide it from them. That was… pure longing. You wanna live with them, don't you? I haven't seen you this happy in far too long."

"I…" Stiles wavered slightly. "I don't know. To be honest, I'm just… really overwhelmed by it all. I spent too long thinking that at least half them actively hated me. I didn't think I would ever see any of them again. I'm still… I'm still working my way through that? Learning to accept that they do want me in their lives, that they don't blame me for what the Nogitsune did?"

John's face twisted and he refrained from commenting on that. He'd spent too long trying to reassure his boy that it wasn't his fault, but Stiles accused him of parental bias. Maybe they could convince him. Hopefully they could convince him.

"Tell me what you're thinking, then," John prompted.

"I need more time," Stiles' eyes were sharp, thoughtful. "I… I think I do want to… I love the farm already, I love being with them. But I need more time with some distance to actually deal with this and with all these… feelings that they've stirred me. All the guilt and pain and… and love. Yeah. I can't deal with that if I were already living with them, but… I do think that's where it's headed."

"Okay," John nodded. "You'll tell me, when you realize you're ready?"

"Yeah," Stiles offered a small smile.

"Can we talk about the two middle-aged men you kept gravitating toward?"

Stiles stilled, looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights. "I don't know what you mean, I have been gravitating toward everyone equally yesterday, I literally sat in Jackson's lap and in Malia's and I was laying draped over Cora and Isaac."

"Mhmh," John pursed his lips, crossing his arms and leaning back. "None of them made you blush though. When you were sitting between Peter and Chris though, you looked… serene. And you did tell me about your feelings on them, don't think I forgot."

The past two years had brought them so close, they'd shared things with each other they may never have shared back in Beacon Hills. At one point, Stiles had opened up about his sexuality, about being bisexual, about how his dad's dismissal all those years ago had hurt him, about his feelings for Peter Hale and Chris Argent. Stiles had promised his dad that nothing had ever happened with either of the men, but that he had had feelings for them both. That Peter leaving had broken his heart and that Chris leaving had broken his heart all over again. That was the important part, the part he'd wanted to share with his dad. Loss, but in a different way.

"They're married," Stiles pointed out, looking at the table. "To each other."

"That's not an answer to my question," John pointed out, eyebrows raised.

"But it is," Stiles shrugged, raising his eyes to meet John's. "They're married to each other, I don't know, maybe if I had run into just Peter and the Hales, I would have… I might have tried my luck? I mean, I'm twenty, I'm a legal adult very much capable of making my own decisions. But Peter and Chris are married, so there's nothing there to pursue. I'm not a home-wrecker, dad."

"Would never accuse you of that, kiddo," John chuckled, shaking his head. "Forget it."

He wasn't going to push, not if Stiles couldn't see it himself. His son said he needed to digest all the feelings and memories that this had stirred in him, so John didn't want to rush Stiles. His boy was clever, sooner or later Stiles was going to notice the way Chris and Peter looked at him.

/break\

Tension in the Hale Pack was growing with every passing day. Peter was acutely aware of that, as the Alpha, but he also knew there was nothing he could do (regardless of how often Malia suggested to just keep Stiles). The betas kept seeking out Stiles more and more.

"You can not walk in there without an appointment, Mister Hale is very busy-"

Peter raised an eyebrow at the high voice of his new secretary. The door to his office opened and Stiles walked in like he owned the place, followed by said new secretary.

"It's fine, he can stay," Peter dismissed her. "Hello, Stiles."

Stiles grinned broadly and walked over to the desk, even as the secretary huffed and closed the door. Part of Peter had wanted to hire Stiles, just to have the boy close. The other part of him knew that he couldn't employ Stiles, that wasn't going to work out for him. Too distracting.

The boy climbed onto the desk, sitting there like it was the most natural thing in the world, his feet on Peter's chair, on either side of his lap, his knees temptingly apart. Peter raised an eyebrow at the cheeky Spark, but he wasn't one to miss an opportunity. He leaned forward, crossing his arms on Stiles' thighs, getting comfortable, hands resting on those tempting thighs.

"What can I do for you, Bambi?" Peter asked, looking up into those big doe-eyes.

"You can reign your puppies in," Stiles frowned, looking actually annoyed. "I am about one puppy away from losing my job. I like hanging out with the pack, breakfast, lunch dinner, meeting the girls on campus, going shopping, what have you. But lately, they've been loitering around at my place of employment. And that would be fine, if they were just there, eating and spending time there. But they keep trying to talk to me and my boss really doesn't like that while I'm on the clock. So. I need you to Alpha up and reign your puppies in before I lose my job."

Peter frowned displeased at that. "I will talk to them. But I can't make promises."

"You're the Alpha," Stiles snorted, motioning at Peter. "Do the sexy red eyes flashing and a bit of growling and tell them to stop costing me my job! My dad and I kinda need the money to afford the apartment, you know. Living in London is fucking expensive."

"You find the Alpha eyes sexy?" Peter raised one eyebrow, smirking immensely pleased.

A blush spread over Stiles' cheeks in a tantalizing manner while the boy rolled his eyes. "Not the point. You're the Alpha. Be a proper Alpha and make sure your pack behaves."

The leisure touch on Stiles' thighs tightened, squeezing just a little. Peter was startled by the moan it earned him, making him stare up at the Spark in stunned silence.

"I have sensitive inner thighs so if you could not squeeze them," Stiles muttered embarrassed.

Peter blinked at him, eyes red, but he removed his hands from Stiles. "I apologize."

He swallowed hard, the sweet, intoxicating scent of Stiles' arousal heavy in the air, especially considering Peter's place between Stiles' knees. Clearing his throat, Peter pushed his chair off and got up. Putting some physical distance between himself and Stiles.

"I can try to talk to them, but you must realize that even I can't make them go against their instincts," Peter raised his eyebrows at Stiles. "The entire pack lives together, spends their time in our shared space that smells like all of us. They only get to see you every other day. Their instincts don't like that, don't like not knowing where you are and if you're safe. You also keep gathering smells of other people, other places, and they get to scent you too infrequently for their liking."

He could hear the jump of Stiles' heartbeat. Peter stood beside his large bookshelf, watching his boy. Stiles furrowed his brows and drew his legs up, now sitting cross-legged on the desk. Still acting like he owned the damn place and it should not please Peter that much.

"So it's time we have this conversation, huh," Stiles whispered to himself.

He was fidgeting with his fingers and then looking at Peter. Expectantly. Peter raised an eyebrow.

"What conversation are we talking about here, Stiles?"

Stiles tilted his head. "The one you promised we'd have at my graduation."

It was Peter's turn to feel his heart jump in his chest. "Are you sure? I don't want you to feel pressured into it by my pack being… pushy."

A small smile spread over Stiles' lips and he shook his head. "I wanted to have this conversation since before I left Beacon Hills. I… did need some time, to myself, after I ran into you. But it's been a couple weeks now and I've talked things through with my therapist. I feel more… settled."

That made Peter nod slowly. "Stiles, I want you to be a part of my pack. Will you join?"

The way Stiles was beaming at him nearly took Peter's breath away and then the Spark bared his neck to him. "Yes, Alpha. I want to join your pack."

Peter was on him in less than a second, sinking blunt human teeth into that pale neck, biting him. Claiming him as Hale Pack. Peter breathed out hard through his nose as he felt the pack-bond with Stiles snap into place. It was so bright and so warm and a beautiful turquoise color.

"Fuck," Stiles gasped, collapsing forward against Peter, clinging onto him. "Holy shit."

"It's okay," Peter wrapped his arms around Stiles. "Just breath. I know it can be overwhelming."

To Peter, the one new pack-bond was intense, but for Stiles? Twelve new pack-bonds were either snapping into place or reigniting where they had been severed before. Stiles started shaking in his arms, sobbing into his chest. Peter gently caressed his back until the Spark calmed down some.

"I missed them," Stiles' breathing was still labored. "Derek and Boyd and Erica, it's been so long. Isaac and Allison and Lydia and Malia and Kira, I… I missed them… I missed them, I was so cold, Peter, I didn't realize it was because I was missing this warmth, I didn't…"

Stiles continued babbling on and Peter simply held him, kissing the top of his head. It took Stiles nearly half an hour to properly calm down and Peter had to send his new secretary away with a withering glare at one point, his appointments be damned. His new pack-mate was more important.

"That… was fucking intense," Stiles tilted his head, resting his cheek against Peter's chest.

"You know that you and your father wouldn't have to worry about the money for your apartment if you were to move to the farm," Peter offered after a moment. "Pack takes care of pack."

"My dad too?" Stiles looked up at Peter, unsure.

"Your father is more than welcome to be a part of this pack, if he wants to be, and to live at the den. Why don't you go and talk to him about this and then tell me what you decide, mh? Though… do expect to be smothered by the betas most likely as soon as you step out of this office."

"Oh yeah, I am bracing for that," Stiles snorted amused, rubbing at his chest. "I can… feel their excitement. Good thing I don't have any plans for the rest of the day."

/break\

Chris was in the orchards when Stiles found him, a day after the boy had joined the pack. The pack-bond had hit Chris like a brick-wall, to be able to feel Stiles in his soul was more overwhelming than with any of the betas. Peter had been so ecstatic when he got home last night, kissing Chris until the former hunter was breathless and then Peter started talking about sensitive thighs and things escalated into much more than just kissing.

"Can we talk, Chris?" Stiles asked when he approached the former hunter.

"Sure," Chris grunted, putting his crate down and turning toward the house.

Stiles grabbed his upper arm, shaking his head. "Not… where the nosy puppies are. C'mon."

Raising one eyebrow, Chris let Stiles lead him deeper into the apple orchard. Along the way, Stiles stole an apple from a branch, throwing it a couple times before taking a bite. Chris wondered what this was going to be about. Peter said that Stiles and his dad were going to talk about moving to the farm, but this wasn't something Stiles would share only with Chris, was it?

"I don't know how to do this in a non-awkward way, so…"

Stiles trailed off and then grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it off over his head. Chris froze, his brain going into all kind of dirty directions of pinning Stiles against the nearest tree and doing all the things him and Peter whispered about in their bed at night. And then his eyes landed on Stiles' chest, on the tattoo over the boy's heart. An arrow-head, and above and beneath it, We protect those who cannot protect themselves. Chris didn't know what to do with that, aside from being oddly turned on by seeing his family motto and a representation of himself on Stiles' chest.

"Ye—eah," Stiles cleared his throat awkwardly, scratching his neck. "I felt like we should talk about this first, before I move to the farm and it comes up unexpectedly because I'm eating breakfast in my boxers and you walk in. I, uh… I got it, after we left Beacon Hills. As a reminder of Allison, of… killing her. Sacrificing for her. Maybe partially to punish myself, but also to remind me of what I had overcome. But I realize it's… I figured you should know."

Chris swallowed hard, nodding. This was going to haunt him for months to come. He wanted to lick it. He needed to show it to Peter, oh this was going to drive the Alpha wild with jealousy. Thinking about it, Chris could imagine Peter taking a sharpie to Stiles to draw the triskele on him. The thought inexplicably made Chris laugh out loud, startling Stiles.

"Okay, not the reaction I was expecting," Stiles raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry," Chris chuckled and shook his head. "I just imagined Peter's reaction."

"Well, considering it made you laugh, I am hopeful it won't include him possessively ripping my throat out for having his husband's family motto on my chest," Stiles quipped.

Chris sobered up a little bit, clearing his throat. "No, it's more likely to make him use a sharpie and draw the triskele on you to make it even. He's a bit possessive."

Confusion passed over Stiles' face. "Yeah, hence the ripping throat out?"

"Of you," Chris corrected with gentle eyes. "He's a bit possessive of you, Stiles. Always has been."

"W… What," Stiles stared at him with those pretty, large doe-eyes.

"Damn, Peter's right you really are Bambi," Chris muttered beneath his breath. "Listen, you just said you want to move to the farm. And I think that there is something that you deserve to know before you move into a house with me and Peter. We have both been in love with you… longer than we've been in love with each other. I know you've been wondering on how we got together and we've so far ignored your curiosity, but you should know before you move in with us. We got together over our shared grief for you, because we were both in love with you. Still are."

Stiles stared up at him with even wider eyes – how was that physically possible? Even without being a werewolf, Chris could tell that Stiles' heart was doing overtime. He offered the boy a small, albeit sad smile before he took a step back, away from Stiles.

"I'll get back to my work. I didn't mean to overwhelm you," Chris offered softly. "I just wanted you to know, so you can make an informed decision. If this makes you uncomfortable, you and your father would still be pack even if you don't live at the farm with us, Stiles. All we want is have you in our life, that would be enough for us. Both of us."

/break\

"I just fucking froze," Stiles groaned, tilting his head back. "He told me that him and Peter were in love with me and I just froze and gaped at him like a stupid fish, dad! Ouch!"

John grunted, an amused look on his face. "I still think that this is an extreme reaction, son."

Stiles turned to throw his dad a deep glare. "You know me! I work in extremes. Ouch."

Another grunt and a shake of his head. John did appreciate that his boy trusted him and confided in him. That he'd decided to take John with him here. Though then John had been there for each one. He reached out for Stiles' hand, taking it. Running his thumb over the tattoo on his wrist.

"And you're really okay with it?" Stiles asked in a small voice. "All of it, I mean? Living with them, both of us living with them, and me… maybe… being with them? You're okay with it?"

"Stiles," John heaved a sigh. "I love you, kiddo. With all my heart. All I want is for you to be happy. And ever since they got back into your life, you have been… so much brighter than in years. If they can make you happy, I will not judge. But if they ever hurt you, I will hunt them down."

A broad grin spread over Stiles' lips as he looked at his dad. "I wouldn't expect any less."

/break\

Stiles was giddy and excited and nervous when he carried a box of his belongings into the farm house. The rest of his pack – his pack – was carrying the rest of his and his dad's stuff inside. While they were laughing among themselves, talking and busy with their task at hand, Stiles wandered upstairs in search of their Alphas. He might have been impulsive, after Chris' confession yesterday, but he'd been in love with them for so many years. He hadn't spoken to Chris and Peter yet, too busy packing the last of their belongings and also getting his surprise done. They let the lease run out, it didn't even matter to them, they could finally leave their apartment behind and move into a real home, filled with warmth and family and pack. And with the men Stiles loved.

He—ey," Stiles knocked on the master bedroom and then entered. "You guys hiding from me?"

"Well," Peter cleared his throat. "Christopher told me about your conversation and we… didn't want to pressure you into an answer of any kind. We're just glad you're here."

"Honestly, I didn't know what to say yesterday," Stiles admitted, flustered. "I've been dreaming about that for so long, it felt too unreal when it happened – unreal in a good way. I've been… I've been in love with you two for so stupidly long. Oh and, uhm, Chris gave me an idea yesterday and you know me, I am impulsive and all of that, but it felt fitting even in a broader sense I mean I am now Hale Pack, after all, so I got this and I hope that's not too weird but-"

He grabbed the hem of his shirt to lift it up enough to show the triskele set over his hip-bone. The growl from Peter was darker, louder and more primal than anything he'd ever heard before. It startled Stiles so much, he jumped a little. The next second, he was pinned against the closed bedroom door, the Alpha all up in his face, fangs and red eyes and all.

"You can't just put an Alpha's symbol on you like that," Peter growled. "You have no idea-"

"I do," Stiles held Peter's gaze, grinning a little. "Did you not hear the part where I said that I'm stupidly in love with you guys? I mean it. And I know."

Peter rested a shaky hand over the see-through film on top of the still very fresh and raw tattoo. Peter's claws were out too and it shouldn't thrill him that much. Stiles tilted his head to the side, a broad, cheeky grin on his lips. The Alpha buried his nose in it, inhaling deeply. Peter pressed a hungry kiss to Stiles' lips, leaving the boy breathless. Stiles' hands pawed at Peter's chest near desperately, his cheeks flushed when they parted.

"Peter," Chris growled annoyed. "Learn to share."

With a grumbling noise did Peter step aside enough to allow Chris to also crowd Stiles against the door and damn yeah, Stiles was definitely into getting cornered by them and stuck between them, this was fun. He rested one hand on each of their chests while Chris kissed him hungrily.

"Stiles," Derek called out from upstairs. "Where the hell are you. We got your stuff."

A shit-eating grin spread over Stiles' lips. "Just bring it to the master-bedroom."

Both Peter and Chris gave him surprised but hungry and pleased looks at that. Stiles grinned broadly, leaning against the door as the feeling of being home fully settled in, here, in their arms.

~*~ The End ~*~

#Stetopher #Stiles Stilinski #Peter Hale #Chris Argent #Teen Wolf #Stiles Summer Stories 2024 #Phoe's Fics #Fanfiction

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cihojuda · 4 months

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Would that TAZ couple have kids? Part 3: Non-canon Everybody Else Edition

Duck & Indrid: No. I don't think Indrid is great with people in general, never mind kids. Duck, on the other hand, is probably a really involved uncle if his sister Jane has kids; and Indrid probably puts on a good show for Duck's niblings because it makes him happy.

Ned & Boyd: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA no.

Beef & Montrose & Emerich: Never in a million years.

Fitzroy & Rainier: Listen. Griffin said that Fitzroy is canonically asexual. That doesn't mean he couldn't get married and have kids, but couple that with his personality, I don't see it as very likely. Him and Rainier would probably have a good platonic marriage for tax benefits though. If they did have a child, it would probably be the only child that Fitzroy was capable of talking to without it crying.

Argo & Fitzroy: see above. I think Argo wants kids, though. Probably just not with Fitzy.

Fitzroy & Argo & the Firbolg: nope.

Amber & Kodeira: These two are both too devoted to their jobs/fighting blinksharks to consider having kids.

Irene & Nadiya & Remy: I think individual members of this ship would want kids but they wouldn't have kids together.

#taz #the adventure zone #taz amnesty #taz graduation #taz commitment #taz steeplechase #taz ethersea

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uzumaki-rebellion · 8 months

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"King Killmonger: The Golden Jaguar" Chapter 5

Masterlist HERE.

youtube

"We hope each soul will find

Around and inside

Another soul to love

Let this be our prayer

Let this be our prayer, just like every child

Need to find a place, guide us with your grace

Give us faith so we'll be safe"

Avery Wilson & Candace Boyd—"The Prayer"

Yani held onto the hand of her baby sister Anika, as her middle sister Dawnette gushed over meeting Tahir. Anika told their entourage of women—Twyla, Zola, Ilana—the story of Killmonger and Tahir spending the night at their Aunt Leona's cramped apartment when she was sixteen and impressionable. But now that she was in her early twenties and legal, she had the right of first dibs on the handsome foreigner to Wakanda.

They entered the banquet venue's snazzy restroom where a full sitting room/powder room was set up before one even made it to the restrooms in a separate section. Checking their make-up and showering the room with their loud gossip over men and available bachelors, Yani noticed Ime in a corner with four other women seated on plush chairs chatting. Anika and Dawnette followed Twyla into the restroom to relieve themselves of wine and other spirits passed around for the after dessert libations. Yani took note of a few other noblewomen clucking together in their various groupings parceled about using wall mirrors to fix hair, and check make-up.

It was obvious that women snuck glances at Yani and she smiled while passing others to get to Ime.

"Princess Yani," Ime said.

Ime stood quickly and her friends did too, showing Yani respect.

"Leave us please…I would like to speak with Ime," Yani said.

Zola and Ilana walked away and kept watch over her for any intrusions.

"Shall we chat for a moment?" Yani said.

Ime nodded and Yani led her to some chairs in a corner that faced away from the other women in the room giving them some privacy.

"I wanted to talk to you about our relationship going forward. After I marry King N'Jadaka, I will be having a series of special events throughout Birnin Zana. Private teas, luncheons, and of course, the Queen's Ball. You and I will see a lot of each other because of Ramatla's position working for my husband."

"Of course."

Ime's voice was sweet as pie, but Yani wasn't keen on her maintaining a façade any longer.

"I know you don't like me. No need for us to pretend that you give a fuck about what I think about you."

Ime's eyes widened and several women within hearing distance moved away quickly to avoid catching strays. Hushed voices spread throughout the powder room and every woman not connected to Yani or Ime vacated the premises immediately. Zola and Ilana strolled over to the restroom toilet entrance to provide interference in case their party came out.

Ime pulled her shoulders back and lifted her head higher. She regarded Yani as a worthy adversary. Her mask fell away.

"It is true. I do not like you. You aren't fit to be queen—"

"You uncouth bitch!" Zola snapped.

Ilana held Zola back.

"I'm a bitch?" Ime said, slanting her gaze toward Zola. "You disloyal witches were so quick to scuttle over to her side that you threw away years of our friendship…and for what? A chance to be around the king?"

Yani glanced at Zola and Ilana. Ime craned her neck back and folded her arms over her chest. Her gaze burned into Yani's face.

"Do you know how many eligible women here that are better than you who would kill to have N'Jadaka Udaku?" Ime said.

"I know you are one of them," Yani said.

Ime didn't flinch. Her lips twisted into a devilish smirk.

"You are damn right. I was one of those women. Had you or that other one not showed up, I'd be in your place right now."

"Listen to this hussy!" Zola hissed.

Yani held up her hand to silence Zola.

Twyla, Anika and Dawnette wandered back in.

"What's going on?" Twyla asked, quickly sizing up the tension.

"Twyla, would you mind taking my sister's back to our party? I need to talk to Lady Ime in private," Yani said.

Twyla took the hint and gathered up the younger women toward the exit. Zola and Ilana followed behind to block anyone else from entering. Yani leaned her left arm over her right on the armrest and crossed her legs.

"I will be queen soon, so any dreams or aspirations you bad minded bitches had about N'Jadaka are over fuh good. I'll fuck up anyone who tries tuh come for we…even Remy."

Ime huffed and jumped to her feet. Yani's chest burned. She took her time standing up like a powerful royal woman with the highest status in the land shared with her man.

"This hatred yuh have in your heart…keep it or throw it away. I don't care. You mean nothing to me. However, we both have a duty to our country—"

"You are not a real Wakandan, Yani Galiber. You are a fake. A blight on the bloodline. You think your position is safe just because you will marry him tomorrow? Hmmph. Then you don't truly know the history of Udaku men. They have an appetite…a lust for life that you could never satisfy as an outsider. No Wakandan man in his right mind would see you as any kind of prize."

"Well, your man has a taste for me, so I can't be all that bad."

Ime's eyes narrowed and her right hand went up high to strike Yani.

"Ime stop!"

Remy's voice rattled them both. He grabbed Ime's arm and pulled her away before her hand connected with Yani's face.

"My apologies Princess Yani. She has disrespected you and I am…embarrassed by this."

Ime snatched her arm away. Her cold eyes had gone beyond jealous hatred. There was envious murder lodged in them too. Yani took a step back sensing an uncontrollable rage flowing through her nemesis. Remy struggled to get Ime's hand back down to her side. She stuck a finger in Yani's direction.

"You aren't special. He will get bored with you…you are nothing like us…"

Ime vomited hatred with her words, and Yani stood strong with a half smile on her face, allowing the woman to get everything off of her chest right then and there. Had Yani worn her finger armor that night, there would've been deep bloody holes in Ime's face. She kept a rigid posture despite her blood pressure going up. A physical entanglement would only fuel the fire of other nobles who felt the same as Ime. Her throat tightened and she parceled her words carefully. Yani's mind screamed to revoke Ime's wedding invitation, but she wanted the woman to watch her nuptials and squirm about it. Diplomacy and tact were the order of the evening.

"Lady Ime, I appreciate your honesty. You have never minced your words, so I will not run around the bush with mine. King N'Jadaka and I are one blade."

Ime's eyes narrowed hearing the euphemism. Remy watched Yani's face with an apprehensive expression. Had it been a club in St. Thomas back when she kept a reckless mouth, Yani would not hesitate to let all of the noble women know she was a good pussy gyal. They way N'Jadaka carried on in her pum pum was all the evidence she needed. The elites could come for Yani all they wanted, but that bad man from the hill wasn't going anywhere.

She took a step forward and Remy repositioned his left foot in front of the tips of her shoes to create a barrior between the two women. Biting back the rancor in her throat and the urge to call Ime a heavy-tongued cow foot whore, she opted to act her position.

"Your campaign to vilify me or make me feel less worthy of the throne has failed. You can't have N'Jadaka, so you go for Remy. The way I hear it, you backstabbed your best friend to get him…so if I were you Ime, I would worry about repairing my social reputation instead of coming for a queen. Good luck with this one, Remy. It's a pity that your family settled for this waste gyal as your future wife—"

Ime lunged for Yani. Remy became a shield. He hugged Yani and protected her body from Ime's attack. Ilana and Zola rushed over and yanked Ime into a corner, pushing her back against a wall mirror. They shoved her shoulders and cursed in her face to keep her from going up against Yani again.

"Please forgive her…I'm sorry for everything," Remy pleaded.

He held Yani's shoulders and she could feel his warm breath blow across her lips. From the reflection in the mirror behind him, Yani noticed N'Jadaka walking in with Twyla. Remy's hands dropped away from her body quickly, but N'Jadaka saw it all. Ilana rushed to the king's side and whispered something to him before he reached their side of the powder room. He moved like a stalking cat toward Ime afterward, ignoring Remy and Yani completely. Zola stepped to the side giving N'Jadaka space. Ime cowered before the man she desired above all others.

Everyone remained silent. N'Jadaka's smoldering presence held them all in a chokehold. Ime trembled.

"Look at me," N'Jadaka commanded.

Ime turned her head to the side and refused to do so. N'Jadaka crowded her body and Yani knew exactly how that felt up close. The heat. The crackling energy. The sexual prowess. It was too much to process all at once, and for a mere second, Yani pitied Ime. Her greatest desire was right in front of her and she couldn't even look at him.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

"King N'Jadaka, I beg…let me remove her from your presence. She has been drinking—"

"Do you have permission to speak to me?"

N'Jadaka didn't bother to look at Remy. His voice boomed and the message was received.

Stand down.

Ime lifted her head. Watery eyes peered at the king.

"I don't normally get into women's business, but I warned you once about bothering her, so now I will give you a choice. Get on your knees in front of her and beg forgiveness for your insolence or I will strip you from your title and make life hell for your entire family."

Ime jammed her back against the mirror with horror dripping from her eyes.

"She accosted me…I was minding my own business with friends," Ime whined.

"Ime…just do it. Stop making this worse for yourself. If you have no title, we cannot marry," Remy said.

The tears fell then. Ime wiped at her eyes as if her own body betrayed her. Yani slipped her hand around N'Jadaka's.

"Let it be. She's drunk and we know how powerful the drinks have been tonight. We need to leave for rest. Our wedding will be here soon, king," Yani said.

Mercy.

That is what Yani gave Ime. Although it would've been a sight to see Ime groveling at her feet, Yani wanted to be above the woman in the best way. Knowing N'Jadaka showed his trump card, she doubted Ime would get out of line ever again. The threat of losing a title was worse than going to hell in Wakanda.

The king allowed Yani to lead him away from Ime, and Remy rushed to her side, throwing an arm around his fiancé's waist. He guided her quivering form away from certain banishment. Twyla wandered over.

"Gossip has already spread outside. When you walk out of here, look cheerful like nothing happened," Twyla said.

Strolling hand-in-hand with Twyla cracking a joke, they left the powder room laughing. Their performance was good enough to get them past a few people, but it was clear the mood had shifted in the banquet room toward her. The upper class were shook to their core. No one was safe if the king jumped for Yani like that in public.

Yani gathered up her children with Leona and Dante's help, and they all bid farewell to the hosts and their dinner companions from the center table. Couples were still dancing and liquor still flowed and would do so into the night. Nobles from all the tribes rushed up to Yani and wished her a good evening, hoping that she graced them with her sweet voice and a smile. N'Jadaka shook hands and accepted congratulations for their upcoming nuptials once more. She waved at her favorite people throughout the banquet room while Zola and Ilana stayed close with her sisters in tow.

N'Jadaka held Yani's and Joba's hand until they were outside the venue boarding a different vehicle with the children by themselves. Yani turned on the sound-proof barrier for the back seat where Joba, Riki, and Sydette sat comfortably, their eyes drowsy from all the activity of the day. They spoke freely without their driver and guard hearing.

"I'm glad you didn't fight her physically," N'Jadaka said.

"Me too. It wouldn't be a good look for us, no matter how much she deserved to get boxed. She knows where I stand. That's the important thing when dealing with a yamhead gyal."

"Remy has a problem on his hands."

"You do too."

"How's that?"

Yani leaned into him and held onto his arm.

"According to her, you were supposed to be her betrothed if I hadn't showed up in Wakanda. Remy was her back up consolation prize."

The corners of his lips went down and his brows joined in the center.

"This caste culture is very particular, very selective of whom they pair couples. The more I learn, the more I see how dangerous it was for my father to choose my mother. Sometimes I think she would've received the same treatment."

"They aren't nice about my foreignness at all in Ime's cliques. She even insinuated that Ilana and Zola only came to me to get close to you."

"We know there are advantages being around me. But those two…," He gave a casual glance to to Yani, "Their hearts are in the right place. They adore you. I know they have crushes on me, but those are just harmless feelings. Most times I have to bargain with them just to get you to myself all alone."

Yani grinned and stroked a finger up and down his chest.

"Are you still going to your bachelor party tonight?" she asked.

"It's not a party. A little get together with the fellas."

"Where will you guys go?"

"We're staying in the palace. I have some food and drinks prepared up in the salon. We'll play cards, smoke cigars…catch up with my cousins. Nothing crazy."

"Strippers?"

Yani giggled and N'Jadaka put an arm around her pulling her into his side. Her breasts mashed into his chest.

"I've seen enough naked women in my life to last me. Every color, size, and from damn near every continent. I'd get bored watching some stranger shake ass for mere entertainment with a bunch of men. Smoking, drinking and shooting the shit is all I want to do. Besides…I have the baddest woman on the planet and I'll get my own private show after we get married."

She puckered her lips and he lowered his head to brush his mouth against hers.

They arrived in the palace parking structure at a reasonable hour. N'Jadaka carried Joba and Riki, while Yani carried Sydette in her arms. Back at their home, Kora helped guide the children away from the front door in their sleepy daze toward the stairs.

"I guess we have to say goodnight here," Yani said.

She wrapped her arms around N'Jadaka's waist and he held her close.

"Yep. I say goodbye to Princess Yani forever. I'll miss her."

They locked eyes, basking in the moment together.

"Thank you for never giving up on me…even when you thought I was gone forever. Thank you for making sure our children knew about me. Thank you for being the light that brought me back to myself…the light that showed me that I could find a perfect love in paradise. You have made this imperfect man so very happy."

"Thank you for coming into my life…thank you for believing in me and making sure I was taken care of even when you thought death was a possibility for yourself. Thank you for being the love of my life…choosing our precious Sydette as your own and giving me my beautiful son. Thank you for trusting me to raise a special extra daughter too. You have made this equally imperfect woman very happy too."

"Well shit, we might as well be married now. Sounded like we said some vows," he joked.

"I know. I'm actually happy that we don't have to say a lot tomorrow. I already feel like crying…"

"Aye girl…no tears…"

Yani buried her face in his chest and wept out her happiness. He rubbed her back with loving hands and cooed in her ear soft words of love.

"You are my life, baby."

He pulled away and kissed her forehead.

"Go on now, get some beauty rest. We all get to sleep in until twelve thirty. I shouldn't even be looking at you right now. We're supposed to stay separated," he said.

She held his hands, not wanting to let him go, not wanting to part from his warmth and strength. Staring into his eyes, she luxuriated in the overpowering essence of his presence the way Ime had experienced him up close. Yani still thrilled to his energy and aura. She pulled him in for a kiss…a long one. Their heads moved from side to side and his hands palmed her backside, squeezing the heavy orbs. His tongue explored and made promises for their wedding night. He kissed her woozy and she stepped back on weak legs. Her brain felt mushy and her body tingled all over. Especially down below.

"I should go now," he said.

"Okay."

Neither one of them left the front door.

"I have to change clothes for my bachelor party," he said.

"Hmmm."

His dimples and septum ring mesmerized her. The glint of his gold panther teeth held her captive when his lips parted in a gentle smile. The king's body heat wrapped her in a cocoon of love. His too-muchness enveloped all of her senses and she suppressed the urge to look away from his face.

N'Jadaka's kimoyo beads lit up breaking the spell for Yani.

"It's Mpilo…I betta dip. Can't be late to my own gathering," he said.

Yani moved away from him knowing that if he touched her again, she would pull him into their home and up to her bed.

"Love you," he said.

She blew him a kiss and dashed inside the front door, closing it quickly. Resting her back against it, she touched her face. It was hot and a light sheen of nervous sweat covered the back of her neck. She touched her stomach to calm the butterflies there. Lord…he still made her swoon like it was their first time together.

"Are you alright, Princess Yani?"

Sindiswa, the evening attendant for their home approached Yani with concern.

"I'm fine. Can you please bring me some bria tea and chocolate biscuits to my bedroom?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Yani climbed the stairs thinking of love, family, and finally having her happy new beginning with N'Jadaka.

Sunrises in Wakanda were a stunning tapestry painted with the delicate hand of Bast.

N'Jadaka rose early before the streaks of orange, rose, pale turquoise, and magenta saturated the horizon heralding the golden return of the sun.

He bathed in a wide tub filled with oils and herbs to purify his body for marriage. The humble priest Dinani waited for him on the balcony where they prayed together in the language of Bast, the ancient tongue that supported him through his transformation on the holy mountain. Ogum stirred in his chest and quickly rose to the crown of his head where the energies of two gods merged.

The ancestors rested within him.

Dinani and N'Jadaka's former temple caretaker Ayiz'e smudged him head to toe fully nude with river sage and more prayer work. As the sun rose, he watched it golden the sky while listening to a recording of a berimbau being played by his mother and a drum pounded by his Grandpop. He prepared his mind for hours of ceremony and honed in on Ayiz'e warming up a thick glob of ceremonial body butter in her hands. The pale yellow substance melted into clear oil and she rubbed it all over him, even his locs. It smelled wonderful, like citrus and honey. She knelt down and rubbed it on his buttocks and the back of his thighs. Dinani observed the preparation making sure no spot on his body was missed. Ayiz'e started rubbing the oil on his groin and when she stroked his flaccid penis and scrotum with it, Dinani held up a tied leather bundle about seven inches long.

"Kumkani, before you consummate your union with the new queen, you must remember to give Bast an offering of your semen first. Princess Yani has been trained properly to do this with you. We would all be pleased if you conceived a new heir on this night," Dinani said.

Ayiz'e finished oiling his nutsack and the front of his legs and feet.

"He is heavy with seed. We can expect plenty of blessings in the king's future," she said.

Dinani smiled.

"This is good to hear. It has been a long time since the royal family has had a bounty of children. Bast will be pleased with our king. We shall take our leave now until we see you at the wedding temple," Dinani said.

They left the suite and an attendant brought his early morning breakfast. Pork medallions, porridge sweetened with sugared red berries, buttery biscuits and slices of fresh fruit. He ate his meal alone on the balcony, calming his mind and the wedding jitters. The eagerness to be married right away already overwhelmed him. He wished they could skip all the ceremonial work, but the new marriage had to follow ancient Udaku customs.

Belly full and mind straight, he relaxed in bed for a short respite until it was time to dress. His wedding robes were brought to him and his personal stylist helped him dress. Ayiz'e returned to twist his locs into an elaborate bun with a few strands left to fall on his shoulders. She checked the wedding clothing front to back. His black opal ceremonial robes were blacker than an inky sky at midnight, but as he moved, the robes refracted an array of colors in blue, green, and silvery gray hues that looked like tiny galaxies bursting light in deep dark space.

"He is ready," she said.

Once more, she smudged him with a different bundle of dried plants that smelled spicy and sharp in the nose. It fit his personality. He sniffed it as she passed around him.

"You recognize it?"

He shook his head.

"Bast Root. It is the plant that we used for ceremonies before vibranium fell from the sky. This plant cradled the vibranium meteor when it landed. Bast led King Bashenga to it, and soon after, a patch of it mutated into the heart-shaped herb that we cultivate today. This original plant links us to our past because the Panther Goddess led us into our future. Smudging with it calls Bast and her sisters down to be with you on this day."

"I understand," he said.

Ayiz'e left his side and he stared at himself in the mirror.

"You truly are a king."

N'Jadaka turned his head and Dante walked forward.

"Your parents are with you…they can see how handsome you look, JaJa."

"I feel them."

"They came to me in a dream last night. All I could do was tell them how excited I was to watch you marry Yani, and they looked pleased. I woke up before I could remember what they said, but I'm sure it was something like 'We love you, son.' Their faces were so shiny…so close to me that I could touch them."

Dante touched N'Jadaka's shoulder and admired his wedding garb.

"Are the guys ready?" N'Jadaka asked.

"Waiting for you at the carport. Yani and the children have already left for the temple."

He took a deep breath and checked his clothing again. Dante tapped his arm.

"Come…let's go get your wife," Dante said.

N'Jadaka walked with his grandfather out of the suite. Four Dora Milaje and six kingsguards awaited him outside. They rode a private elevator down to an underground carport where his groomsmen stood near their vehicle transports wearing custom obsidian Wakandan suits that complimented N'Jadaka's robes.

"You look clean man!" Shawn said, giving N'Jadaka dap.

"Damn, I feel like royalty too," Walter said, showing off his outfit.

Tahir wore a custom suit that incorporated his cultural heritage into the design. Mpilo grinned from ear to ear in his own attire. Bibi shook N'Jadaka's hand and congratulated him on his day.

His older cousin, Junie paraded around in his suit.

"I think I ate too much last night," Junie said, patting his stomach.

"I think that fat has always been there," Bibi joked, poking Junie's round belly.

His cousin Nevaeh hugged him. She wore a long overcoat over her covered dress and would walk as his groomswoman carrying flowers to represent Marisol's missing presence. Yani's cousin Kendall was doing the same as a bridesman filling in the gap of missing family from the Galiber side. He would escort Nevaeh down the aisle.

"How are you feeling, JaJa?" Nevaeh asked.

"The nerves are kicking in a little bit, I'm not gonna lie," he said.

She kissed his cheek and wiped away the smudge of her lipstick.

"Are you ready to leave, kumkani?" a driver asked.

"Let's rock and roll," N'Jadaka said.

They split into three cars and N'Jadaka sat next to Dante.

The streets of Wakanda were jam packed with spectators who had lined up on every avenue and street corner waiting to catch sight of the royal family. Every inch of the city looked decorated and the festive energy of the citizens forced grins on all their faces in the cars. The wedding was the celebration the country needed after a tumultuous year adjusting to life removed from the Infinity War.

He watched people dance and throw flowers at the cars as they were whisked to the heart of the golden city where the temple waited. Traffic clogged up two blocks before they arrived at their destination, and they waited patiently for the kingsguards and the royal onyx squad to make way for their cars to get through.

They crossed through the gauntlet ten minutes late, but N'Jadaka didn't care about time. He stayed in the present moment, feeling all the feelings, letting the fervor of the crowd wash through him.

The ancient temple loomed in front of them. The last time they had been there was to reunite with his parents, but that sadness didn't linger over the ancient site. It beckoned to him with an ethereal beauty and gave him the gift of peace in his heart. His parents were there waiting to watch him wed. Their spirits hovered all around him.

Their vehicles were ushered into a covered parking structure on the west side of the temple entrance where his clan and extended family convened. Umama, Ramonda, and an army of other Udaku relatives stood waiting for him and his groomsmen.

"You look amazing Umama. You too, Ramonda," he said.

He hugged as many relatives as he could before a wedding director arrived and pulled him away from Soliel, Aujannue and Serah to give final instructions. Nevaeh's mother Rolita straightened the locs that tangled on his shoulders from all the hugging. The family drummers stood nearby waiting for their cue, and the family griot, his cousin Didah, walked in front of everyone carrying a centuries old staff that was carved with family sigils of protection. She touched the top of her forehead and took a deep breath before approaching N'Jadaka. He could feel the rising energy of his family behind him.

"Cousin N'Jadaka, the temple is packed. Your grandmother has permitted some people to stand in the back, so when we go in, please keep yourself in the center behind me at all times until we reach the front. The acting griot for the Galiber clan will come in right when the last of our family has been seated."

N'Jadaka nodded. He heard Didah's words, but his body sensed the anticipation inside the temple. Somewhere on the otherside of the structure, Yani was waiting for him. His heart thudded in his chest and his hands went clammy. Umama lifted his chin with her hand.

"Breathe, grandson…that's it. Relax and breathe."

Tunnel vision and anxiety ran through him. The overstimulation forced him to gulp in air. Serah clasped his hand and his Uncle Addae slipped next to him and gripped his elbow to steady him. N'Jadaka was about to ask for a chair to sit in, but a comforting warmth spilled down from the crown of his head and flowed to his feet. He closed his eyes. Her familiar scent came down on him the way it did when he used to cook in her kitchen when he was a little boy. Florida water.

Nana Jean.

"I'm glad you're here too," he whispered under his breath.

He knew his great-grandmother always stayed with him, but the scent of her protective potions surrounded him…grounded him. Standing tall, he shook his hands and prepared to swagger down the aisle so the world could see a king claiming his queen.

Didah gave him the biggest smile that rivaled the sun shining above them. She tilted her head back and burst into the first stanza of their family history and the drummers matched her strong voice as they pounded out the backing rythmn. His groomsmen and groomswoman were led away to join Yani's bridesmaids and bridesman to prepare for their entrance.

"I feel you all in me," N'Jadaka said out loud to his ancestors.

He held onto Dante's and Umama's hands and followed Didah out of the covered structure. The drummers controlled the pace of their trek around the temple and once they entered, N'Jadaka focused his eyes on Dinani the priest who waited for them at the front.

The temple overflowed with guests and their excited energy pushed against the king, adding an extra layer of sensory overload he tried to control. He was happy, so very happy, and every inch down the aisle heightened the experience. The piercing pride in Didah's voice carried him along as she sang out the story of the Udaku family leading the country for generations. Each time she named a queen or king, N'Jadaka felt their movement in his core as if they each tapped his soul to let him know they were walking beside him. He laughed out loud when Queen Shuriya's name was uttered. His greatest grandmother tickled the back of his neck and a vision of her clouded his eyes before the next name was called. His family gave a call and response with the drummers as they circled the temple allowing all the spectators to see the great King N'Jadaka in all his royal splendor. They made their way back up the aisle as his father's and mother's names were uttered. Umama let out a ululation that rippled through the family and N'Jadaka's knees almost buckled hearing the pain that was still in his grandmother's throat.

He closed his eyes when he felt a kiss from his mother on his temple and another kiss from his father on his forehead. He wiped his eyes and guided his elder relatives to their seats on a dais behind the priest. The rest of his family filled in the reserved seats in front of their guests.

N'Jadaka looked across the rows of guests and acknowledged the nearly nine hundred non-Udaku family members facing him. Sunlight filtered through the temple and illuminated the majestic indoor trees that created the canopy roof, their wide-sweeping branches intertwined with the solid pillars and Goddess statues making the atmosphere look surreal and holy. Didah and the drummers concluded their family song by highlighting N'Jadaka's bravery in protecting the people, and he danced entertaining the crowd. A few elderly Udaku aunts and uncles stood up and encouraged him to show out and he granted them a show. Umama and Dante hooted and hollered for him too. A bold drummer jumped in front of the king and pounded an extra rhythm for his feet and shoulders and he allowed his limbs to cut loose. The unseen Galiber clan called out his name loudly from the back announcing their entrance, and he ended his dancing by bowing to his grandparents. A riotous applause cascaded from the foreign guests in the audience.

Didah took her place behind him on the dais waiting for Yani's family griot to orate about her family.

The sound of clashing blades echoed from the far side of the temple. N'Jadaka waited with great anticipation. Kendall, and about fifteen of Yani's adult family members carried shiny cutlass blades and lit torches. They didn't use drums for a percussive sound, but sang acapella about Queen Mary, their history of enslavement and liberation using the acoustics of the ancient temple to echo the beauty of their combined voices. Leona walked among them lending her voice with her head held high wearing a strapless puffy champagne-colored gown decorated with tiny cutlass blades. Her salt and pepper hair was carefully decorated with Ginger Thomas flowers the official island flower from their home. Several young children and teenagers from their family followed along clapping to the beat and gazing at the wondrous beauty of the ancient temple.

Although Yani's family was small in number representing their clan in comparison to N'Jadaka's, they kept the guests spellbound listening to the story of their island roots and their connection to Africa through the diaspora. After singing the folk song of Queen Mary, Kendall took over the oral history and sang/rapped about their family. The other relatives stomped their feet and clapped their hands with percussive beats supporting his playful delivery of Caribbean history. The Galiber clan circled past N'Jadaka, and Kendall helped Leona join N'Jadaka's grandparents on the dais with four other elder cousins from her family. N'Jadaka moved over to them and gave them hugs and kisses before quickly taking his position back in front.

Kendall stood before Didah and the two of them had a playful back and forth of singing. Didah challenged Kendall to tell the world why Yani was the best woman for N'Jadaka and the young man waved his blade around and pointed the torch at the king. The fire was close enough to heat N'Jadaka's cheeks.

Didah held a long singing note and studied N'Jadaka's face.

"Is this woman for you, kumkani?" Didah asked.

"Bring her to me," he replied and the Udaki family laughed and clapped because he was supposed to simply say "Yes."

Didah's smile swelled his heart and she turned her attention back to Kendall.

"The king has spoken," Didah said.

Kendall grinned and attendants took away all the torches and cutlass weapons. The Wakandan drummers pounded away giving Kendall time to ceremonially return to the bride-to-be letting her know she was called forth. The sweet orchestral sounds of Wakandan strings, flutes, and violins mixed with the beautiful vocals of his paternal grand aunt serenading the strides of Twyla and Bibi. Twyla was already bawling as she clutched her husband's arm and the bouquet of flowers. Yani had all of her bridesmaids wear custom-made, iridescent mother-of-pearl dresses that each woman was allowed to choose in their personal style. Twyla's garment was a one shoulder wrap dress with a high slit on the left side. Her shoulder-length locs were also heavily decorated with island flowers. She clutched Bibi's arm tight while sniffling toward him. They stood on either side of N'Jadaka and he bent over and kissed Twyla's cheek, wiping her tears away.

"I'm sorry..I'm sorry…" Twyla whispered.

N'Jadaka laughed at her and she gathered herself together.

Zola and Ilana walked down with Tahir and Mpilo wearing elaborate crisscross halter neck gowns. The slits in their dresses were more modest, but their elaborate braided hair-dos showed flair and sassiness in their style. Mpilo looked terrified of messing up his walk down the aisle with Ilana, but he relaxed more when the king smiled at him. The heavenly music elevated the feelings in the temple and N'Jadaka touched his chest hoping it wouldn't explode before Yani appeared.

Anika and Dawnette made the long walk down the aisle with Walter and Shawn. Their dresses were a matching ruched style with sequins at the top and satiny overskirts that reminded N'Jadaka of mermaids. They crafted thick twists in their hair and wore their hair flowers tucked at their left temples like Billie Holiday.

Junie escorted Shuri who stunned everyone with her make-up and hair. She had fluffed out her hair into a perfectly coiffed 'fro where flowers were strategically placed to look like they grew from her scalp like a giant ebony bouquet. Her dress had a plunging neck with split sleeves that showed skin powdered with sparkly dust that twinkled like stars on her rich brown skin. As she passed the front row, she gave a nod to Nakia who held a sleeping Toussaint on her lap. Shuri gave a sly smirk to N'Jadaka knowing he was peeping all the extra make-up she never wore in her regular life. His young cousin looked stunning and his older cousin Junie looked proud to escort her in front of the Udaku clan.

Kendall strolled out with Nevaeh whose custom dress shared her Native heritage with Yurok detailing of abalone shells and stringed shell beads that dangled around her waist like a fancy apron that jingled as she walked. She wore a long braid threaded with flowers all the way to the small of her back. When she separated from Kenny she blew a kiss to N'Jadaka and showed him the extra bouquet of flowers she held for Marisol and Disa.

The music changed into a melody that transfixed the entire temple gathering. A young woman sang like an angel with a choral ensemble backing her up high above them. N'Jadaka lifted his gaze to a balcony above the temple entrance where the angelic voices rained down on them like holy blessings. He now understood why Umama insisted that the wedding take place in the late afternoon. The placement of the sun in the sky had its sunrays directed into the temple by the architecture where it created a natural spot light for his children coming down the aisle next.

The entire congregation stood up when Joba appeared, flower crowned with her thick wavy hair shiny with ringlet curls all down to her back. She held a basket of flowers and threw them in front of herself as she slowly walked in the procession. N'Jadaka heard the oohs and ahhs of their guests. The sun made Joba's skin a deep mahogany brown like her mother's and he beckoned for her to keep walking to him so he could hug her. Although her walk was out of order for an American custom, the Wakandans deemed it appropriate for the youngest child in the bridal party to herald the coming of the new wife with flowers and acceptance from the priest.

Joba reached the front and her eyes took in the ancient wisdom of Dinani who presided over the ceremony. Dinani gestured for Joba to come forward and the little girl paused, staring up at the expectant priest. Twyla waved for Joba to come to her side, but Dinani stepped forward and held Joba's hand. Something sacred transpired between the priest and his child. Dinani glanced at N'Jadaka and smiled. Whatever it was made the priest happy. N'Jadaka reached for Joba's hand and pulled her in front of him. He kissed the top of her head and the sweet show of affection made a few guests wave their hands in approval.

Sydette, his ring bearer, stepped lively carrying a satin pillow in her right hand that held the wedding rings. Her left hand kept a tight grip on a red satin binding rope that she would tie around her parent's wrists as part of the wedding ceremony.

His eldest child's hair carried buoyant curls that almost looked bigger than Shuri's 'fro with a braided Mohawk style. A few flowers were tucked into the intricate braiding pattern along her scalp accentuating the fullness of her curls, and her face glowed as she kept her eyes on her Baba watching her steps. Sunlight dappled across her hair and face as she drew closer to him. Her dress matched Joba's, silvery white and princess-styled to fit her age.

"Hey Sweet Pea," he said.

She fixed her lightly pink-glossed lips into a big smile for him showing big dimples like him, and took her place by his side next to Joba. He bent down and gave her a kiss on her nose and she giggled, patting his cheek with the hand carrying the marriage tie. She glanced at her sister and Joba giggled making Sydette giggle more.

"Wait until you see Mama," Sydette said to him.

N'Jadaka straightened right back up and waited for Yani to appear. Before she stepped into the temple, he heard her voice singing the words that were meant for him in that little St. Thomas club so long ago.

"Can't do without you for sure

Amount a place I and I explore

Still nuh find nobody else I adore

Them can't stop we, yeah

Yuh love a sumn wah mi have to protect

You are my balance and my ease to mi stress

Your vibration never fail me yet

Wull on pon me, yea…"*

N'Jadaka had been unaware that Yani was going to sing during their ceremony. Their rehearsal had been calculated from start to finish and at no time was he made aware of his bride serenading him. His ears caught the lead singer of the choral ensemble vocalizing the exact same English words into Wakandan, lending her vocals after Yani finished.

Like it had been in the past, he was mesmerized by Yani's voice before she even stepped into his sight.

Riki held his mother's hand and led her into the temple. His royal robes were an exact replica of his father's. His hair was fluffed out into the big sandy-red sunburst of his grandmother Califia. Yani wanted her son, the first child born to N'Jadaka, to give her away for the ceremony.

N'Jadaka's lips trembled as he watched the beaming face of his gorgeous bride walking toward him in all her glory. Yani's silvery-white dress sparkled in the light of the sun rays that struck the shimmery iridescence in all the right places. Form-fitting, a hood covered her head that fell back into a luxurious train, accentuating the roundness of her beautiful face and big tranquil eyes.

His heart stopped.

N'Jadaka gasped and Joba patted his wrist keeping his spirit from flying out of the room. He held out his hands, palms up, willing his radiant bride to come to him with all his might. Riki took his time setting Yani's pace. The boy wanted to show off his mother. The Wakandan choir sang over their bridal march with a hymnal that brought tears to N'Jadaka's eyes. Yani transported him.

He stood nude in warm liquid inside a Caribbean sea as a young mouthy woman fussed at him to get out of her waters. Surly eyes from the past challenged him to show his true self in a hectic kitchen on a compound until he clawed his way back to humanity and fell in love with his future queen. Yani beckoned him into the ocean of her love for all time. Was there no better proof of higher powers protecting him than that divine encounter with her?

Nothing prepared him fully to witness a vision coming toward him that made his whole body quake. He gasped for breath. Joba squeezed his hand.

"Its okay, Baba. Umi Yani is coming," Joba said.

Riki stopped halfway to the priest and puffed up his chest.

"Baba, come get Mama!" Riki shouted.

The congregation erupted into cacophonous laughter. Like his father, Riki eschewed tradition and said what needed to be said. Sydette pushed N'Jadaka forward and he took eager strides toward Yani. He was supposed to sing the royal wedding song that grooms shared with the bride, but he spoke them instead. The Wakandan words slowed down his steps and he approached Yani full-throated and proud:

"Come when the nights are bright with stars Or when the moon is mellow; Come when the sun his golden bars Drops on the hay-field yellow. Come in the twilight soft and gray, Come in the night or come in the day, Come, O love, whene'er you may, And you are welcome, welcome.

You are sweet, O Love, dear Love, You are soft as the nesting dove. Come to my heart and bring it rest As the bird flies home to its welcome nest.

Come when my heart is full of grief Or when my heart is merry, Come with the falling of the leaf Or with the redd'ning cherry. Come when the year's first blossom blows, Come when the summer gleams and glows, Come with the winter's drifting snows, And you are welcome, welcome…"**

He smiled, happy that he was able to remember every word and say them with enough eloquence in flawless Wakandan. Pausing for a moment to look over her stunning appearance, he relished the sight they created standing in the center of the temple with the warmth of the sun caressing them.

"Will you walk with me Yani Galiber?" he asked.

Yani kept her eyes locked onto his face. She fought to keep any tears from welling up, but the shimmer on her lower lids lost the battle. He never wanted to see her cry, but he made an exception for that day. Riki nudged her hip with an impatient hand. She cradled her son's chin and spoke to him softly.

"Should we?" Yani asked Riki.

A saucy grin curled Riki's lips and he nodded enthustiastically.

"I will walk with you King N'Jadaka Udaku," she said.

"Say that one mo' 'gin," N'Jadaka teased, cupping a hand to his ear.

Yani laughed and obliged him, her voice as soft and magical as it had been the first time he heard it.

"I will walk with you forever King N'Jadaka Udaku…my Golden Jaguar."

"Aye!" he shouted while offering her his arm. She held onto him with a firm grip and he clasped Riki's hand, escorting them both to Dinani.

Yani held tight to Riki's hand while the adult bridesmaids and groomsmen walked into the temple stepping in time to the exalted music playing for them. Several women priests had smudged her and the children with aromatic plants and oils before they left the palace and once again, a young female priest circled Yani and the children with a gold incense burner trailing a spiraling cloud of purple smoke that clung to their wedding garments and hair. The sweet odor calmed her mind and settled the children who were ready to gallop through the temple to reach their father.

Sydette hugged her waist.

"You look beautiful Mama," Sydette said.

"Thank you Sweet Pea. You all look beautiful, too."

Yani touched Sydette's hair then caressed Joba's cheek.

"I wish they'd hurry up," Riki lamented, swinging Yani's hand.

"They have to take their time walking down the aisle, silly. Everything is being filmed for the country and it's a big deal. If they walked fast they'd miss all the pretty clothes and how good we all look," Sydette said.

Riki and Sydette spoke quietly and Yani honed in on Joba's silence. She had been chatty and playful earlier that morning when everyone rushed around bathing in sacred oils and herbs with the female priests overseeing their preparations. But once they'd eaten a full breakfast, dressed, and left the palace, she'd quieted down.

Yani knelt before her youngest child and clasped her hands.

"How are you feeling, Sunshine? Nervous?"

Joba nodded. Sydette wrapped big sister arms around her.

"You'll make Baba proud when you lead us out…okay? We practiced and practiced and you will make the path for Mama pretty. I will be right behind you," Sydette said.

Joba clutched her basket of flowers and nodded. She tilted her head to look at Yani.

"What if I drop the basket or walk too fast?" Joba said.

Relief spilled over Yani hearing her speak again.

"All you have to do is listen to the music. It's like the metronome in Umama's suite. The beat sets the pace. If you think you're walking too fast, check the music cues. You are going to be a wonderful flower girl."

Yani hugged her and Joba leaned into the embrace. She kissed Yani's cheek and all was well again.

"It's time Princess Joba."

The lead wedding director smiled at the little girl and held a hand out to guide her into position at the temple entrance. Riki ran forward and hugged Joba. He whispered something in her ear and his sister broke out into another bright smile.

"You got this," Riki said out loud.

The director glanced at Yani.

"Everyone is standing up…here we go," the director said.

Joba took a deep breath and marched in time to the harmonious music.

"I'm next! I'm next!" Sydette squealed, twirling in a circle holding the wedding rings and sacred red tie.

Sydette peeked around the wedding director.

"Oh Mama! Baba looks so handsome," Sydette said.

Yani's heart and stomach fluttered. The anticipation of seeing him engulfed all of her nerve endings. They all heard collective oohs and ahhs and a smattering of applause. She wondered what happened to make the congregation applaud. Luckily, she would be able to watch the entire ceremony at a later time. The ceremony was broadcast live and recorded from start to finish. Palace recorders filmed everything the moment they stepped foot outside the palace for candid shots to later be edited into a royal wedding documentary.

"Princess Sydette, you are next please."

The director held out a hand and waved it, summoning the girl. Sydette blew Yani a kiss and marched out like a diva.

"Here you go, Princess Yani."

Another wedding coordinator handed her a mic. Yani waited for her music cue to tap it on. The peaceful strumming of harps alerted her, and she sang out all that she felt to N'Jadaka. She wondered what his facial expression looked like hearing her voice singing that particular song. Riki squeezed her hand in support and for a moment, holding her son's hand and singing to his father brought back all the connections they had in St. Thomas. Emotion spilled through her voice as she conveyed to the king how much he meant to her.

As the voice of the Wakandan choral member sang the song in their language with a different musical arrangement that transformed into the Wakandan wedding march, Yani held tight to her bridal bouquet and let her son lead them into the temple.

Grateful to have her son's hand for support, Yani took in the hundreds of faces that watched her march toward her destiny. Her brain tried to connect with individual eyes upon her. That proved useless once she zeroed in on N'Jadaka waiting for her at the far end.

God…he was more than handsome.

She lost her footing for a second and Riki helped her find her steps again.

It all came down to this moment.

Yani drifted away into a time when she was a lost woman-child trying to make a way out of no way on a small island. How many nights had she prayed for a better life for herself and Sydette? Given up on herself? How many days had she cried and chastised herself for choosing love with Chez who treated her so poorly and abandoned Sweet Pea? Yani had felt so alone and lost to a pre-destined fate that befell too many young women with big hearts and limited resources or support. Thank God Auntie was there for her. Thank all the angels too that her auntie liked Killmonger so much that she didn't run interference keeping them apart. There were too many tangible things that should have prevented Yani from ever meeting the foreign mercenary.

But look at God.

Her eyes watered and she looked away to control her blurry vision. No tears fell and she was able to concentrate on her delicate steps to reach the king.

Riki halted their march and shouted for his father to get her. The audience laughed and Yani chuckled herself. His declaration was not a part of the ceremony. She lifted her bridal bouquet to her lips to hide her open-mouthed laughter when Riki sucked his teeth sounding like an annoyed Auntie back home.

Her laughter fell away once N'Jadaka came down the aisle to claim her at his son's demand. She heard a few gasps from women around her who also felt that energy coming toward her. He spoke forceful words of love instead of singing them to her. The switch up made the evocative words more powerful and she felt every utterance in her bones, marrow deep. When he finally reached her, she could barely see his face. Her eyes had become a river threatening to spill down her face.

"Will you walk with me Yani Galiber?" N'Jadaka asked.

His voice was full of pride and so much love for her. The scent of oils on his skin and the smudging on his clothes smelled heavenly. She lost the ability to speak taking all of his spirit in. Riki balled up a small fist and pressed it into her hip. Yani lifted his chin and stared into Riki's shiny eyes.

"Should we?" Yani asked her son.

Those little Udaku lips on his face swept up into a knowing smile and Riki nodded like she was foolish to even ask the question. She looked at her great love again.

"I will walk with you King N'Jadaka Udaku," she said.

"Say that one mo' 'gin!"

N'Jadaka had cupped his ear and she knew in her soul he did that purely to show off for the nobles who questioned her place in his life.

"I will walk with you forever King N'Jadaka Udaku…my Golden Jaguar."

"Aye!"

Yani gripped his arm and he held Riki's hand, escorting them all to the priest waiting for them. Her bridesmaids and bridesgroom were in various stages of watery eyes, crying, and beaming love to her. She handed her bouquet to Twyla and her cousin gushed over her with a weepy voice.

Facing N'Jadaka, Yani watched the priest give Sydette instructions. She handed the wedding rings to her brother and a footstool was placed in front of her so she could easily bind her mother and father together. Dinani spoke ancient words as Sydette tied the satin binding rope around N'Jadaka's wrist first. She left about two feet of rope in between them before she tied the other end on Yani's wrist. Her task complete, Sweet Pea kissed both their wrists and returned to stand next to Joba.

Yani listened to the Wakandan words spoken by the priest, but her eyes stayed on N'Jadaka's face the entire time. His soulful eyes drank in every inch of her. It seemed like they were the only two there, but with the guests, plus the entire Udaku clan in attendance, over one thousand people witnessed their union and she blotted them all out.

Dinani spoke of their expected duties toward one another. Her ears glossed over all of those expectations and only tuned back in when the long ceremony moved into the portion where she was told the qualities of a virtuous queen.

Holy scripture was read by Ayiz'e who wore the sacred red robes of the mountain temple of Bast. A male priest presented Dinani with more sacred oils and they anointed Yani and N'Jadaka. The qualities of a virtuous king were recited to N'Jadaka. An older female priest blessed their children who stood there, and also blessed the children they would have in the future.

Umama stepped forward from her place on the dais holding Yani's queen isicholo. Dinani prayed over the crown and anointed it with holy Bast oils before N'Jadaka pulled back the hood on Yani's wedding dress revealing her platinum hair. Umama's voice was loud and strong.

"We of the Udaku clan accept Yani Galiber into this holy union. She is our welcomed daughter…our new queen…Queen Yani N'Isiqithi the First."

The women of the entire Udaku clan broke out into heartfelt ululations that echoed throughout the temple. Yani bowed her head slightly and Umama placed the queen's isicholo on her head.

"Stay blessed Queen Yani, may your reign make us all proud and may your greatest grandmother Queen Mary guide your hand in all that you do," Umama said.

Yani stood still and accepted the ululations, the shouts, the applause, the jealousy, the envy, the hatred, the admiration, the love, the curiosity, and the fear her queendom brought to Wakanda. She straightened her posture and let the weight of the crown sink into soul.

Queen Yani.

Heavy was the head that wore the crown, but not so much with N'Jadaka by her side. He held her hand up and they turned around to face the congregation. Dinani raised their arms and spoke with a firm tone in their voice.

"May I present to you all here, the royal heads of the nation, King N'Jadaka and Queen Yani Udaku, avatars of the Golden Jaguar…children of the Black Pather Tribe."

Everyone in the temple stood, including the relatives on the dais. The Council of Elders came forth from the audience and circled Yani and N'Jadaka. They held hands and recited an oath promising them both wise council in the days ahead. Stepping aside afterward, Yani and her new husband were able to acknowledge the crowd amidst their applause.

"You may now kiss your bride, kumkani," Dinani said.

N'Jadaka's lips were on hers before the priest finished giving permission, almost knocking her crown off. He kissed her within an inch of her life and backed away when she almost went limp.

"Hey queen," he said.

"Hey king," she answered.

Yani checked on their children and all three had glossy eyes admiring her new isicholo. N'Jadaka threaded his fingers with hers and boldly showed her off. To close the ceremony, they had to circle the inside of the temple as newlyweds counterclockwise. The isicholo settled nicely on her head, and Yani willfully entered her new era as ruler. She relaxed into N'Jadaka's strides and pranced about, letting her beauty and new status burn her enemies down to charcoal.

N'Jadaka kept stopping to kiss her hand and the red satin binding tie dangled between them letting everyone know they would never part. She reveled in the power, soaked it up and let it propel her around the temple with a fierce protective energy.

Back at the front again, N'Jadaka kissed her chasrely, with pecks to her lips and both cheeks. She bent down to hug and kiss their children just as the closing wedding march started. Dinani gave their final blessing and the Udaku family drummers showed out again, leading the march out of the temple. Didah sang a new griot song prophesying the reign of Yani and N'Jadaka.

"Ready to face the rest of the world?" N'Jadaka asked.

"I am," Yani said.

They held hands tight and strolled down the aisle together, exiting the ancient temple as husband and wife.

Chapter 6 HERE.

* Lyrics to Jada Kingdom's "Wull On"

** Poem by Black American poet Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906), "An Invitation to Love"

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#King Killmonger #King Killmonger The Golden Jaguar #Killmonger Fanfiction #Black Panther Fanfiction #Wakanda Forever Fanfiction #Killmonger Fanfic #Uzumaki Rebellion #Uzumaki Rebellion Writes #Pantherverse #Namor #Talokan

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buckybarnesss · 9 months

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Where did this idea that Chris Argent is the one Argent who cares about the code come from? He's just as bad as his wife, who wants to murder Scott for existing.

I feel like I have a completely different understanding of this that everyone else does. I like him BECAUSE he's a weak-willed jellyfish of a man. He follows orders, there's not much kindness left in him and it's only directed at his daughter. He's a liar who enjoys tormenting teenagers - he was willing to kill Derek and Scott even though he knew they hadn't killed anyone.

The entire point of the Argents is this corrupt family structure. "Women are leaders" they say, as they lie and gaslight Allison. "We don't kill innocents" they say, while shooting Derek and Scott for being outside at night.

How many times did they get it wrong and kill humans? We'll never know because of course they would just cover up the evidence. They were taking potshots at Scott and Derek and didn't even know WHO they were shooting at.

Literally none of them follow the code. They manipulated Allison into setting it aside. The code is bullshit.

"Chris would never torture innocents" bro what show were you watching, you think he didn't know Kate was sexually assaulting and electrocuting Derek?? He didn't seem that fucking surprised to see Erica and Boyd in his goddamn murder basement.

I feel like I am going crazy!!

you are so right.

what do i think of chris argent?

chris argent is compelling to me because he's not really that good of a person. he has deluded himself into thinking he is.

the indoctrination amongst hunters runs very, very deep. especially with the argents. he never fully becomes deprogrammed. gerard argent deeply damaged both of his children and that is the point. there is no happy ending for the argent family.

kate was gerard's golden child because kate was full tilt sociopathic and enjoyed killing. chris was the lesser of the two in gerard's eyes. we know that while chris did gerard's biding he hadn't been in contact with allison since she was three years old at the time of kate's "death". that tells you chris knew his father's influence was dangerous and corrupting. yet he still let it happen and watched allison be manipulated by his father and become like kate.

three children ended up in his murder and torture basement and the only one i can see him not fully knowing about is stiles because that was gerard's little game. he knew about erica and boyd, he knew what was being done to them and he allowed it. they hadn't done anything to anyone and again they were children. the same age as his daughter. her own classmates. trussed up in his basement.

his intimidates stiles, scott, jackson and derek more than once. people who hadn't done anything wrong. scott, jackson and stiles are all children.

chris also knew full well who and what kate was. he was in denial about it and ignored it. chris isn't a stupid man and i thought it was pretty clear throughout season 1 he had suspicions about kate so he's not even surprised when confronted about it code breaker. he's just disappointed.

he clings to the code because it gives him cover. it gives him a convenient excuse. he can wrap himself up in the code and declare himself a good hunter, not like the others, not like his father and sister when he is. the code is his self-delusion.

he changes because allison died and his code becomes the memory of his daughter. his shitty family and his lack of backbone led down a path that eventually led to her death.

yes allison's decision that night was her own but it was also reckless. why was the archer on the ground? why wasn't she high up like she'd been wise enough to do in frayed or in alpha pact? allison was desperate not only to save lydia but also to prove herself good and make up for her mistakes.

and even when he begins to change it's often conditional.

chris is an interesting character. i like him a lot actually but he's a fucked up person who makes many questionable decisions thought-out the series. he only looks good because gerard and kate are more terrible.

#my blog #thoughts on teen wolf #teen wolf #the argent family mirrors the hales #chris and peter mirror each other in certain ways like peter does with kate #all roads lead back to visionary #my rewatch will be soooooon

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mercy-thompson-fanfiction · 22 days

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Hey! I really like your Alpha and Omega fics. You said that you take requests so if you ever have time could you write an alternate universe fic where Charles gets to spend some time courting Anna instead of immediately taking her to Montana (which is something he mentioned wanting to do in On The Prowl)

“No, you definitely cannot do that.”

Samuel’s voice was boiling over with amusement on the other end of the phone call as Charles described his predicament.

“And da said what?”

“Send her to Adam.” Charles closed his eyes, thoroughly defeated by the sound of his brother’s cackling laughter and his own predicament.

Over the moon infatuated, that’s what he was. He couldn’t get the look in her eyes out of his mind when he told her that he would be back. It was killing him not to already be back, but there were things to sort out and paperwork to handle now that Leo and Isabella were dead.

Anna. Brother Wolf reminded him of her name, as if he could forget any piece of her that she’d share. Mate.

“What does my sister-in-law want?” Samuel was laying this on thick for his benefit.

And yet, was good to hear him laughing. It put Charles at ease just as much as it put him on edge.

What did Anna want? He had only asked her a million times. She didn’t want to stay in Chicago, even with Boyd she was—not broken. Anna wasn’t broken.

She was hurting.

A pang of guilt struck him for having left her, but it was just as much for her benefit. The Omega settled the wolf, but Charles was finding the man a problem which was not something he was used to dealing with.

Gut instinct told him to take her with him. Anna was hurting and anxious in a pack that had caused her harm before. When he ran the idea by his da, he’d received a goofy grin—he could hear it in his voice—and a reminder that creating a situation where she was entirely dependent on him was manipulative and, given the circumstances, cruel. Same issue caused the next best thing (furnishing her apartment and putting food on the table) to be shot down. He got by with getting her a better job, but that had been against his father’s advice as well.

Because somehow being the reason she got the job was also detrimental to her mental health and general well-being. His brother had only just agreed with everything he had already had thrown back in his face by their shared parent.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t ask her?”

Charles had asked, and that was part of the dilemma, too. She hadn’t been in a good mind space when he’d suggested coming to Montana and then she had felt guilted into it. When she felt confident enough a few hours later, she brought it up again and said she might like to stick around a little longer.

Take a trip out to her family now that her nightmare was over.

That she didn’t want to stay in Boyd’s pack longer than she had to, but that following blindly just because he told her how he felt didn’t put her any more at ease.

“I don’t think, at this time, that she is of sound enough mind to make a decision like that.” Charles said finally. “And she feels she would like to learn a little more about it all before she jumps headfirst again. They kept many secrets from her. And that’s how it stands.”

“You mean to do this properly then,” His brother was definitely still grinning. “Da is right. Adam’s would be safest.”

Adam would be safest. Of course, there were still plenty of downsides. Adam was relatively recently divorced and unmated, so he was entirely unspoken for. Charles didn’t think Anna would find that to be a problem, but he certainly felt it was going to be a problem. Adam Hauptman was, as he understood it, not at all unattractive.

There was also the matter of that wolf there who had unsavory problems, Charles thought his name might have been Ben. Ben lived there, that was one to look out for.

Then there was his brother who Charles suspected wasn’t quite well, though his energy in this conversation suggested otherwise.

The image was already forefront on his mind of Samuel sitting far too close to Anna for Charles’ own comfort. He bit his tongue to keep from growling at the thought of Samuel’s arm around her in a vision that hadn’t even happened.

There was rustling on the other end of the line.

“Everything ok?” Charles came back down to earth for the moment.

“Can’t ever find anything in Mercy’s place. I’m not sure how she survived before I started putting forks back in their proper utensil slots.” Samuel snorted.

That explained the metallic clinking he was hearing, then.

And it also reminded him of another precarious detail about Adam’s and what sending Anna there entailed.

Mercy. Aptly named, if you looked at those whose lives she had touched, except maybe his brother’s.

“Where would she live?” Charles sighed finally, giving in.

They were both right. Adam’s would be safest short term, even if he wanted Aspen Creek to be best for her. He did hope it would be short term.

Samuel hummed some tune that Charles recognized innately but blocked out with his own thoughts.

“She could bunk with Mercy. Small room, but it might do her good to have a female roommate.”

“Mercy doesn’t do well with female wolves,” Rather, most female wolves didn’t do well with Mercy. “It would be impolite to ask her to put one up in her home.”

Charles suspected that might have been Leah’s doing and not Mercy’s own ability to get under everyone’s skin in a lovably, very-coyote fashion. Nonetheless, it would make Mercy uncomfortable.

And this was of course forgetting that Mercy was already sharing in more ways than one. Samuel had stolen her spare room and Adam shared her back fence.

Asking for more of her was in poor taste.

“Adam’s is out of the question even for a little?” Samuel tried. “He has a daughter she might like, you said she’s young. Adam would give her plenty of space and he wouldn’t step on toes.”

It didn’t matter if he wouldn’t “step on toes” so to speak. Charles would feel like his toes were being stepped on, regardless.

“If she was ok with it, maybe.” That was a lie and even over the phone his brother knew it and laughed, but this time it didn’t sound quite right.

Charles would circle back to that later when he had time to consider it.

“If you’re worried she can be stolen, maybe try wooing her a little better, brother.”

“Isabelle liked Adam.” Because his brain supplied the information.

Samuel laughed again, but this time for real.

“Isabelle would have taken any wolf with a heartbeat to her bed.” That was true, too. “If she hadn’t tried to sleep with him, I understand that she and Christy may have gotten along.”

Apparently, Samuel was calling to mind the same incident.

He was stuck at square one again.

“What do you want me to suggest?” Samuel sighed, but then he added, “Adam has a wolf who calls herself Honey. Her mate, Peter, is submissive. She could feel safe there.”

Charles knew Honey. She and Peter both were old, submissive wolves tended to live long lives, and they’d crossed paths a few times.

“Would Adam suggest it?” Charles questioned, thinking about the possibility very seriously.

There were boxes to check before they could even get that far. The Tri-Cities weren’t the perfect spot as far as location accessibility, but he could pull off the commute. He would happily pull off the commute for Anna’s sake.

Samuel said something along the lines of “probably” while Charles was lost momentarily in thought. Somewhere on the other end of the call was the distinct sound of a key scraping into a lock and the familiar “click” of said lock releasing before a door opened.

“Do you always lock Mercy out of her own home?” Charles asked just as Samuel was greeting his roommate.

Mercy stilled, he could tell without being in the room because he suddenly didn’t hear her. Any phone call he had with his brother was done intentionally when Samuel was either in the car or Mercy wasn’t home. She was prone to be a little skittish, their coyote.

Or, if he were being honest, she was more prone to being angry.

“Charles called to tell me some great news,” For all intents and purposes, Samuel sounded incredibly casual and unbothered by Mercy’s clear discomfort.

“Which is?” Mercy sounded not the least bit interested, but at least she took the bait.

“Family reunion, Mercy,” His brother told her. “Charles wants us to meet the new sister-in-law.”

Closing his eyes, Charles tried not to wonder if the kiss he had just heard was on the lips or on the forehead. It could go either way with Samuel and it wasn’t a relationship he needed all the information on in this moment. In fact, he was actively trying to stay out of it and hoped his father knew what he was doing.

They’d almost lost him already. Mercy might be a death sentence.

“Oh, Mercy, it’ll be like the good old days!”

Mercy had groaned.

Were there any good old days? Charles thought wryly about the crashed car and the peanut butter. There was the time she’d forgotten to close the pasture gate. Couldn’t forget the mystery of the missing left shoes. The disaster that was his father discovering Samuel and Mercy’s plot to run away—Charles still wondered where Samuel thought he would be able to disappear to that they couldn’t find him fast enough. Once upon a time, she had numbered no less than thirty-four toy ducks. There might have been more than thirty-four—they were currently numbered up to 1076, but they doubted there were that many. Only thirty-four were discovered.

Charles had been almost disappointed in Mercy at the time when he learned that they hadn’t been real ducks.

There was, of course, the Watergate Scandal. That might’ve been a “good old day”, he supposed with a small smile. The three of them had laughed, at the very least. Hundreds of tiny cups of water peppered the floor like little landmines. Mercy had started the trail at the front door and meticulously covered the entire home, including the basement stairs. They were pretty sure she exited over the garage and hopped down off the roof there, but Charles himself had never asked.

Leah’s scream of frustration could have been heard for miles when she came home the following morning. His father had come straight home from his business trip to see what the fuss was and to make Mercy clean it up. The Marrok then proceeded in through an upper story window thinking the water was only blocking the door.

He was wrong.

Charles and Samuel had helped Mercy clean up that prank. They might have indirectly been involved with the acquisition (and storage) of the millions of cups.

Memories of Mercedes were a strange combination of fond recollections of innocent pranks and then reminders of her delicate mortality and trusting nature. Those that fell into the latter category made him grit his teeth and wonder how none of them had succumbed to heart attacks or aneurysms. Surely, the frequency at which they’d had them should be deadly even to werewolves.

“Are the good old days in the room with us?”

Charles found himself hiding a smile from no one. He was alone in his home after all.

“We’ve had plenty of good times.” Was that an intentional double entendre or was Charles reading too deeply into a circumstance he still didn’t understand?

He couldn’t decide and thought maybe it would be best if he didn’t try and work that one out. He would come to learn more than he necessarily wanted to know if this all came to fruition.

“Wait, did you say ‘sister-in-law?’”

***

Very little went according to plan, as was typical with Mercedes Thompson. It was only a few weeks later that Charles found himself in the car with Anna on their way to Mercy’s trailer home.

Apparently, years of emotional abuse from the Marrok’s mate had not dampened her desire to help when someone needed it—even when that someone was a female werewolf.

“Oh, so she’s your sister!” Anna smiled brightly.

Charles’ heart warmed. He loved it when she smiled, the way her eyes seemed to sparkle and the edges crinkled upwards. She stuck her tongue between her front teeth sometimes, when she was trying not to laugh, and it was so obvious she was laughing anyways. It made him want to laugh aloud just from watching her.

“She might not like that comparison,” He shouldn’t have been smiling, but hers was so contagious. “Mercy didn’t have an easy time in Aspen Creek.”

That was maybe saying the least. He was sure Anna, of all people, would be able to get the story out of Mercy. Charles was an adult watching Mercy grow up, fairly complicit in how she was being raised. With Bryan and Evelyn, it had been ok, Mercy had grown up as normally as a coyote in a wolf pack could.

But then things had happened. Circumstances had changed. Lives were lost and Mercy was left stranded somewhere in the middle.

“And your brother doesn’t think of her the same way?”

“I don’t know what he thinks.” Charles admitted as honestly as he could. “Theirs is a unique history.”

Maybe not that unique, Charles thought while casting a sideways glance at her. Anna herself was little more than a child when she had undergone the Change against her will under horrifically traumatic circumstances. That was only a few short years ago and the years hadn’t proven kind to her in the least bit.

It was partly that reason, he supposed, that they were doing this—that he had even agreed to this. It wasn’t the age gap that upset him, theirs was tame by the standard of some others. It was the dynamic.

Charles didn’t consider himself a saviour by any stretch of the imagination and, truth be told, Anna had entirely saved herself from her biggest monsters. But she was fresh out of a situation where she had been intentionally made to feel weaker, to feel dependent on someone’s kindness, to cater to someone because of the dependency. He would be playing a dangerous game keeping her fed with a roof over her head, most especially in a town off the beaten path where she knew no one but him.

Safe. Mine.

Yes, he thought, very dangerous.

“And Mercy is a coyote, but you don’t know really how she is?” Anna recapped.

Not entirely, and he explained as much. Charles knew there used to be plenty of people like Mercy. He had met, he thought, at least one. Although, they hadn’t been a coyote.

He definitely would have known.

But he didn’t know what she was beyond the idea that others had once existed. Seemingly, the knowledge had disappeared with the people who would have held it.

There was a wave of sadness at the thought, one that Anna washed away with her own tsunami of peace.

“You said at home the spirits sometimes speak to you,” Anna began. “That they like you? They didn’t tell you what she is?”

“It would seem,” Charles smiled a little fondly at a memory of a coyote pup disappearing into the surrounding woods for a disastrously long and successful (for Mercy) game of hide-and-seek. “That they like her more.”

They turned, finally, upon the road Mercy’s home was on according to the address Samuel had sent.

It was one Charles already knew like the back of his hand. He had Mercy’s number memorized, too, if you asked him to recite it—both her shop and her cell.

And he’d throw in Margi’s for good measure if Anna were asking.

It wasn’t until they had parked that Charles realized that Anna had been the only person he had ever confided in about Mercy. It was possible even the coyote herself didn’t know how he felt about her. Samuel had always been the one to love kids. As he grew older, certainly as decades turned into centuries, Charles had come to assume that key part of his brother’s nature was why he’d taken to him despite all their centuries difference in age. Mercy, knowing her from practically-birth to sixteen and then even longer from afar…

He had come to realize sometimes the age difference in a family didn’t matter. Mercy was as much his sister as Samuel was a brother, even if she weren’t blood.

And—maybe most importantly—Anna wasn’t jealous.

Charles knew Anna was able to feel that way about him, and it had been incredibly satisfying to come to know it even if he discovered it at possibly the most inopportune time.

“Does Mercy know anything about me?” Anna asked him before they cut the engine.

She didn’t sound nervous, but her pulse had quickened and the adrenaline kicked in giving away her fear.

“She knows you’re important to me.” Charles tried to veil his frustration with the way his own brother had introduced the concept of Anna without ever speaking of her as a person by name. “And, through no fault of my own, she believes us to be dating.”

Or married.

“Well,” And she at least sounded amused now as her freckles nearly blended into her undeniably blushing cheeks. “We did go on one date, so I guess it could qualify us as dating.”

One date which had ended incredibly poorly with an attempt on his life which had fortunately missed but caused them to quickly return to her home and regroup before meeting Leo and his poor-shot of a mate.

“We could try again,” Charles suggested, “While I’m here.”

Anna smiled, tongue between her teeth because he himself had made her heart skip a beat.

“Yeah? I’d like that, I think.”

Even over the engine and outside the home, he could hear his brother’s cackle.

#not quite what was asked for #but I put this one off a long time #writing Charles stresses me tf out #mercy thompson series #fanfiction #patricia briggs #fanfic #mercy thompson fanfiction #anna x charles #charles and anna

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lavenderlegends · 11 months

Note

sterek + “And you can't see me wanting you the way you want her, but you are everything to me”

you are everything to me

ao3

"What are you doing?" a familiar voice comes, forcing Derek to tear his eyes off the dance floor to look at Lydia's raised eyebrow. He leans his back against the bar.

"Nothing," he mutters. "Just waiting for your drink."

"You mean... the one in your hand?" Lydia asks, looking pointedly at the drink he's holding.

"Oh! Right. Here." He shoves it into her hand. "Leave it alone, Lyds."

"I didn't say a word!" she protests, but they both know. His eyes slide across the room to the dance floor.

Stiles fucking Stilinski dances with Caitlin, his head tossed backwards in laughter, as he slips his hands around her waist and pulls her closer.

"But," Lydia says, interrupting again, "... if I were to say something, it'd be this: you should just tell him how you fucking feel."

Derek scoffs. "I don't know what you mean."

"You do. You're just too stubborn and scared to do something about it." Lydia hums before she says, "I'm going back to make-out with your sister."

"Lydia, god!" Derek says, cringing. He shakes his head, and watches as she sways to the music while she walks back to their table. He should join everyone, but they can be so overwhelming sometimes. And he really doesn't want to watch Lydia and Cora make out. Derek sighs before turning back towards the bar. At least he can pretend to be interested in the hockey game playing on the screen. It's a recap of the game from earlier, but that doesn't matter.

He takes at least three shots of tequila before he makes his way back to the table.

"Derek!" Erica exclaims in excitement when he sits down beside her. She throws her arms around his shoulders, and he can smell the alcohol on her breath. "Did you know that Boyd is going to propose to me soon?!"

"What are you talking about?" Derek asks, carefully tugging Erica off him. He glances around, but Boyd's at the other end of the long table talking with Scott and Isaac.

"Call it a girl's intuition," Erica says, grinning. She winks at him. "And I may have found the ring in his underwear drawer when I was looking for my favourite pair of his boxers."

Derek forces a smile on his face. "That's exciting, Erica."

"Isn't it?" she asks, beaming. She looks over at Boyd, and the love is clear as day on her face.

He can't help but admire their relationship. Even if he usually feels jealous. It's hard to be anything but happy for them. They haven't always had the easiest of paths - when Erica came out as a woman, a lot of people in her life had a hard time adjusting. But Boyd was at her side, steady as a rock. He calmly explained to ignorant people, punched a guy or two, but not once, did he ever waver in his obvious love for her.

Derek tunes out when Erica and Kira start giggling. He tries not to look at Lydia making out with Cora, as promised, and lets himself have one more moment.

He watches as Stiles moves his hips closer to Caitlin. They've been messing around for a few weeks now, Derek thinks. He's not entirely sure how serious she is about Stiles, but he's pretty sure that Stiles is serious about Caitlin. He keeps talking about how she just 'opened up his world.'

A hand clasps Derek's shoulder suddenly and he looks up to see Jackson towering over him. "You good, man?"

"Yeah," Derek says, trying to repress the urge to sigh again. He gives Jackson a tight smile. "Just not feeling like the drinking scene tonight. Might grab an Uber home."

Jackson squeezes his hand on Derek's shoulder before saying, "Do what you gotta do, man."

"Thanks."

Jackson swings around to the other side of the table to sit beside Kira. He gives her a small kiss on the cheek, something only they really do in their group of friends. Derek doesn't get their friendship, or even how they got so close considering they'd only met Kira a few months ago, but he's not going to question it anymore tonight.

He stands up, staggering a little, and gives the table a small nod. "I'm heading out. Early day tomorrow."

"Really?"

Derek startles at the sound of Stiles' voice. He turns and shrugs. "Yeah. Looks like you're having fun on your own anyway."

Stiles glances at Caitlin grabbing water at the bar before he says, "Oh, right. Sure. Um. See you later?"

Derek nods and, without another word to anyone, despite their protests, leaves.

○○○

"You really should just tell him," Lydia hisses at their friendsgiving a month later.

"Tell him what, Lydia? That I'm obsessed with him? That I replay every interaction over and over in my head? That I can't get his lips out of my head?" Derek snaps. "Because I think the fact that he brought a date to friendsgiving is a good sign that it's not going to happen. He doesn't see me like anything but a friend."

Lydia takes a small step back, and quietly says, "But... what if he's just messing around because he thinks you're not into him?"

Derek snorts. "Yeah, okay. Not sure what universe you're living in."

Just then, Stiles bounds over to them. "Hey, guys! Have you heard from Danny yet? He's flying back in from New York to surprise Jackson."

Derek shakes his head, glancing at Lydia who checks her phone.

"Nope," she says. "But speaking of Jackson, I need to talk to him. Excuse me."

Lydia walks away, back towards the living room, leaving Derek and Stiles alone in the kitchen.

"How are you doing?" Stiles asks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Fine, I guess. You?" Derek asks, bringing his whiskey glass to his lips. This is painful. He can't even be normal around Stiles anymore. It hurts too much.

"Fine, I guess," Stiles echoes. He frowns, his eyebrows coming together. "What's been up with you lately? You're so... distant. I feel like we never hang out anymore. And like, no offense to everyone else, but you're kind of my best friend, dude."

Dude. Derek takes a deep breath and says, "Nothing. Work's just been busy, that's all. Besides, you've been glued to Caitlin's hip."

Stiles tilts his head. "Wait, what does Caitlin have to do with this?"

"I don't know. You tell me." Derek steps forward, ready to brush past Stiles, but then Stiles puts his hand on Derek's shoulder and he freezes at the touch.

"Derek, c'mon. You can trust me. Tell me anything. I promise." Stiles' eyes plead with him.

"It's really nothing," Derek mumbles. He closes his eyes briefly before adding, "Like I said, work's been busy."

"Oh. Okay." Stiles lets him go. And just like that, Derek's heart breaks all over again.

Derek makes his way back to the living room, and accidentally, gets caught up in a small group with Caitlin. He tries to politely excuse himself, but before he can, Caitlin says, "Do you all know if Malia is single?"

He freezes.

"No, she's not. She's actually dating Kira," Erica says, glancing curiously at Derek. "Why... why do you ask?"

Caitlin pouts. "Oh. No, I just... had a crush on her. No biggie though. I'm not here to step on any toes."

Derek would scoff if his mind wasn't racing. Before he can stop himself, he blurts, "Aren't you dating Stiles?"

"Stilinski?" Caitlin asks, before she bursts into laughter. "What? Oh my god, no. He was just trying to help cheer me up after a brutal break-up. He doesn't even know that I've been eyeing his friend."

Derek can't catch his thoughts.

It's been two months. Two months of Stiles and Caitlin being so close. Two months of Derek mourning what could have been. Two months of him breaking his own heart over a misunderstanding and an assumption.

"Excuse me," he says, ignoring Erica's confused expression. He turns and immediately, his eyes lock onto Stiles' from across the room. Stiles' eyebrows come together. Derek nods towards the kitchen door and Stiles doesn't say a word to Laura and Cora as he leaves them.

"What's wrong?" Stiles whispers once he's in the kitchen behind Derek. Derek turns around, his eyes wide.

"Are you single?" he asks.

Stiles jerks his head back in surprise. "Uh, yeah. Hello? Have you met me? No one wants to put up with this ADHD mess of a human. Besides, I've been told I talk too much, and I'm just... y'know, too much in general. And--"

"Stiles," Derek interrupts.

He stills, staring at Derek. "What? Why did you ask anyway?"

"Stiles, I..."

"Wait. Did you think I was dating Caitlin?"

Sometimes, Stiles is too quick for his own good. Derek drags a hand through his hair. "Well... yeah."

Stiles scoffs. "Is that why you've been so distant and weird?"

"Sort of. I just wanted to give you space," Derek mumbles. "I mean, before she started hanging around us... you and I used to spend every minute together. And... and, I don't know!"

"Derek," Stiles says, quietly. Derek freezes again. "Why... why would you care?"

"Why?" Derek mutters. "What a great question. Why. Why would I care. I don't. I mean, I do. But I don't--I don't know, okay?"

"Yes, you do."

And here he is, doing it again. Stiles always knows how to push Derek's buttons. And maybe that's a good thing. Derek swallows, and quietly says, "You're my everything, Stiles. I...I gave you space with Caitlin because I couldn't handle seeing you two together. I couldn't--it just--it broke my heart, and--"

Stiles' smile could light up the whole goddamn city. Derek's heart pounds. "Derek. You know I'm in love with you, right?"

"Wha--"

"Have been since I was sixteen." Stiles shrugs. "Haven't you noticed how little I bring people around to the group? It's because no one ever measures up to you. It's because you're my everything. I just figured you'd never look at me like that."

"Wait," Derek starts. "My brain is trying to catch up."

Stiles laughs, and it's a beautiful sound. Perhaps Derek's favourite sound.

"I love you, you idiot. You. No one else," Stiles says. He says it with so much confidence that Derek allows himself to believe it.

Just this once.

Derek leans forward, but is pushed back when Stiles tackles him and his lips. They're kissing. He's kissing Stiles fucking Stilinski. Derek almost laughs in joy and surprise and confusion and pure delight. But the sound is muffled by Stiles' kisses.

"Oh my god, finally!"

They break apart to see Lydia standing in the doorframe. She clasps her hands together and smiles. "Y'all, Derek and Stiles are making out!"

"Lydia!" Derek hisses.

She sticks her tongue out while there are cheers and calls from the other room. Lydia winks. "I'll leave you two boys to it. When you come up for air, can you check on the pies? They're warming in the oven. Okay, love you, bye!"

And she slips back into the living room.

There's a moment of silence.

And then Derek finds himself laughing. And Stiles is laughing. And together, they laugh in between kisses, and everything feels right for the moment.

○○○

thanks for reading! I'm rusty, so please forgive me.

#text #sterek #sterek fic #sterek ficlet #stiles stilinski #derek hale #taylor swift lyrics #my writing

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ilovewhiteroses · 6 months

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LOGAN Star Boyd Holbrook Rumored To Be In Talks To Play Two-Face In THE BATMAN - PART II

(source: comicbookmovie.com)

A new rumor doing the rounds online is claiming that Boyd Holbrook (Logan, The Sandman) is in talks to play Harvey Dent/Two-Face in Matt Reeves' The Batman sequel…

Plot details for Matt Reeves' highly-anticipated sequel to The Batman are still under wraps, but several rumors relating to certain characters that could be introduced have been doing the rounds over the past few months. DC Studios co-CEO James Gunn appeared to debunk reports that the likes of Scarecrow, Clayface, Professor Pyg, and Hush, were set to appear in the movie, but we're now hearing that Harvey Dent, aka Two-Face, may have a part to play. According to CanWeGetSomeToast, Boyd Holbrook is in talks to play the classic Batman villain in the upcoming sequel. Holbrook has quite a bit of experience portraying bad guys, having appeared as Donald Pierce in Logan, The Corinthian in Netflix's The Sandman, and more recently, Kaber in Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny. When the new DCU slate was announced, James Gunn confirmed that Reeves' "BatVerse" will remain separate from the DCU, so this movie, along with Todd Phillips' Joker sequel, will be considered "Elseworlds" tales. A new actor will don the cape and cowl for Batman: The Brave and the Bold, which will also feature a different take on Robin - The Caped Crusader's son, Damian Wayne. Robert Pattinson, Zoë Kravitz, Andy Serkis, Jeffrey Wright, and Colin Farrell are all expected to reprise their respective roles, and characters introduced in the Penguin Max spin-off series are also likely to appear. As far as official info goes, Reeves has stated that his sequel will continue this "epic crime saga," but that's about all we have to go on. One rumor did claim that the story will be at least partially based on Geoff Johns' Batman: Earth One. Of course, the first film took a certain amount of inspiration from Vol. 1, so we assume the sequel would be more influenced by Volumes 2 and 3. For those unfamiliar with the comic, Earth One takes place in the alternate continuity and features an updated and more realistic reinterpretation of the classic Batman origin and characters. Hush does not appear, but the later volumes do feature Clayface, Scarecrow, and a female take on Two-Face in Harvey Dent's twin sister Jessica. What do you make of this casting rumor? Assuming Two-Face will appear, do you think Holbrook would be a good pick for the character?

#boyd holbrook #the batman #two-face #harvey dent

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andreafmn · 5 months

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I'm Not Afraid | Chapter 18

Word Count: 3.8K

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack, as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

A/N: this is essentially a filler chapter to jump into the end of Season 2. But, if you're one of the followers of this story, strap in 'cause shit's about to go down 🫣

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Emergency Family Meeting was what flashed on (Y/N)’s phone at six in the morning. She groaned as the sound bounced off the walls, breaking her from a deep sleep. The brightness from her phone burned her eyes and made her groan as she read Allison’s message.

The last thing she wanted was to be surrounded by Argent hunters. She didn’t want to face her cousin or her grandfather; she didn’t even want to face her own parents. All she wanted to do was sleep. Well, she still had school, and she had to walk Brody, but other than that, she wanted to sleep. It was the only sure way she had to avoid Derek. The more she slept, the less time she had to think. And (Y/N) did not want to be stuck in her head.

“Dude, turn off your phone,” Isaac grumbled from the spot he had taken on her bedroom floor, hugging Brody closer as he turned away from the light. “It’s too early to be awake. We still have two more hours until school starts.”

Emergency Family Meeting flashed on (Y/N)’s phone at six in the morning. She groaned as the sound bounced off the walls, breaking her from a deep sleep. The brightness from her phone burned her eyes and made her groan as she read Allison’s message.

“Well, it’s not my fault Allison is calling for a family meeting,” (Y/N) sighed, ripping her sheets off her body. "I’m pretty sure it has everything to do with her little revenge arc. She's probably going to tell us to go after Derek and anyone involved with him.”

“Which includes me,” he said. “I don’t think your cousin will take well to knowing you’ve been harboring one of Derek’s betas these last couple of days.”

After everything that had gone down after Lydia’s party, Isaac had been glued to (Y/N)’s side. When she was at school, he would never be too far behind. Much to his disappointment, he had to remain outside of the halls while her family hunted him and the pack. But he made sure to keep watch of her as he hid in the woods. He claimed he didn’t want her to be alone—especially after Matt’s body had been found in the river—but she knew the uncertainty he had living with Derek and everything that was happening. The man had all but said you’re all either entirely in or to jump ship. Erica and Boyd had turned down (Y/N)’s offer of her home, but Isaac had been quick to agree.

Somehow, (Y/N) had been able to hide a 6’1” teenage werewolf in her bedroom for almost an entire week without being found out. Granted, the fact that her parents seemed to be out of the house most of the day because of the Kanima helped. They didn’t really question the missing food or the fact that their daughter locked herself in her room the second she got home. Their minds were simply too preoccupied.

“I’m just gonna see what this is about, and I’ll let you know what’s going on,” (Y/N) said as she slipped a hoodie over her head and tied her hair into a ponytail. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t born in this family, you know? It’s like craziness follows us.”

“Could be genetic.”

“My biggest fear,” she sighed. “But I’ll see you later, okay? Don’t come out until I’m back.”

“I can go with you,” the boy offered. “Hang out a few blocks away until you’re done. Moral support, you know?”

“I can’t risk having you close, Isaac. I’m not even sure what I’m walking into myself. For all I know, this is the meeting where they reveal my involvement with the pack, and I’m punished by the family.”

“See, that doesn’t make me feel comfortable about you going alone.”

“I’m not gonna be alone,” she shrugged. “My dad will be there, and he’s on our side. So, I’ll see you when I get back because I am coming back.”

“Fine. At least I have Brody to keep me company,” he said as he scratched the sleepy dog’s head. “I can keep him if you don’t come back, right?”

“You’re hilarious.”

“I try,” he snickered. “Be careful, Argent.”

“Always am, Lahey.”

After saying a quick goodbye to Isaac and her dog, (Y/N) closed her bedroom door behind her and sped off to her uncle’s house. The place was packed with hunters, both young and old, all preparing to take down the now-infamous Kanima. Anywhere she turned, a leather-clad hunter would meet her gaze. The girl tried her best not to feel intimidated, but their stares bore into her like they knew all of her secrets.

But if they did, they made no sound about it. They nodded their heads and waved at her as she passed them. No one reprimanded her or tried to hold her back from getting to where she needed to be. She was simply the daughter of one of the Argent boys and a hunter in training.

“Ah, (Y/N),” Gerard greeted as she walked down to the basement. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Yeah, well, I do live far from here, and I was sleeping. Mind you, it’s six in the morning on a school day.”

“(Y/N),” her mother reprimanded.

“It’s quite alright, Rebecca. She’s filled with teenage angst and rebellion. I’d be surprised if she didn’t say something out of place.”

“Great. Since we’re finished discussing my teenage behaviors, could you tell me what we’re doing here?” (Y/N) scoffed quietly. “I do have a history test in a few hours.”

“Okay, we’re veering off track here,” Allison interjected. “I’m the one that called this meeting because I need us all to be on the same page about the wolves here.”

“And what page would that be, Ali?”

“Derek Hale is the reason my mother is dead, and he has to pay for what he has done. It’s been a week since she died, and we’re nowhere near to finding him,” she said sternly. The way she spoke about Derek sent shivers down (Y/N)’s spine. There was so much hatred and ire laced with her words that it killed any ounce of sarcasm in the other girl’s brain. “Other than the Kanima, our top priority is to apprehend Derek. If you find him, you bring him back here. Alive. We know he has betas that will protect him at all costs. Just like last Friday, I don’t want to hurt them for being dumb enough to protect their alpha, but we will if the need arises. I will need you to be on high alert. We will be the only ones looking for him. The other hunters will be tasked on Kanima watch, but this case is too personal to leave in their hands.”

(Y/N) wanted to speak up, tell her that the only people she should have been hunting down were their own family. It was their fault and their stupid rules that had killed Victoria. Not Derek or any of the wolves, and they did not deserve the persecution that Allison was instituting. It was an unnecessary witch hunt that she wanted no part in.

As everyone agreed with the game plan, strategizing how to get the big bad wolf, (Y/N) slipped out of the basement. She was unable to keep listening to her family’s ideas to catch someone who was not at fault and how taking innocent lives would be such a breeze since they were simply in the way. Everyone spoke up, saying what way they thought would be best. Everyone but her father. Henry simply sat back and listened as everyone else spoke of killing three teenagers and a young man like they were planning their Thanksgiving dinner.

“Where are you going, (Y/N)?” Allison said. She grabbed (Y/N) by the elbow as the girl started walking down the driveway, turning her around to face each other. “We’re not done yet,” she said.

“It seems to me you all have this perfectly planned out,” she shrugged. “There’s no need for me to sit in on a meeting that could have been an email.”

“What is your problem, (Y/N)? It’s almost like you don’t care about what happened to my mom,” the girl accused. “I know you two were close, but he’s to blame here.”

“I do care, Ali,” she stated. “I’m very sorry that your mother is dead. I can’t imagine the pain you are going through. But it is not Derek’s fault that she took her own life, and planning on hurting or, worse, killing the rest of the pack is honestly unbelievable. Our job is to defend those that can’t defend themselves, not go after innocent people.”

“None of them are innocent,” Allison seethed. “Derek Hale is a killer. And if the rest decide to hide him, then they are complicit in his crime. They are just as guilty as he is.”

“Have you ever even thought why Derek had to bite her? Have you asked yourself why he may have needed to resort to that?”

“What’re you getting on about?” she questioned. “How would you know any of that?”

“I was there, Allison. I was in the room where it all happened,” (Y/N) admitted. “She was close to killing Scott that night, using an airborne form of wolfsbane. Derek fought her to get her away from him. That’s when he bit her. It was their lives or a bite. She got away fine. Her death happened because of the stupid rules this family lives by, where a hunter would rather take their own life than be a wolf. “Now, you can blame them all you want and hunt them down for eternity,” she spat. “But it will never change the fact that it was Victoria’s choice to die that night. No one killed her but the blade in her hand.”

As soon as those words left her mouth, Allison’s hand struck (Y/N)’s cheek with a loud snap, splitting open the still-healing Kanima slashes on her cheek. They dripped warm blood down her skin, mixing with the sting of the hit. But it did not deter her from continuing. “Would you have rather he let Scott die?” she pressed. “Would you have rather she had killed me in the fight instead? Because it’s everyone else’s fault, right? The fact that your mother took her own life is everyone else’s fault. And just because you think you know what’s best doesn’t mean you get to tell everyone what to do.”

“How can you say something like that? If it hadn’t been for Derek, my mother would still be alive,” Allison said through gritted teeth. “Grandpa put me in charge of strategy because he knew I was the best person for the job. I’m actually committed to our family’s work, unlike you, (Y/N).”

“Oh, well, excuse me for not being okay with the murder and unnecessary hunt of our friends. Because I think you’re forgetting who the people you want to hurt are,” Syler pressed. “What if I’m hiding them? Will you kill me too? Will you make sure I don’t get in your way?”

“(Y/N), I wouldn’t…” ‘

“But you would, Allison. You’re being driven by vengeance and retribution, and I will not help you do it. The rules that the hunters live by are warped and do nothing but justify the killings of innocent people. I won’t stand for it.”

“So, what’re you saying? You’re out?”

“Oh, you can absolutely believe I am out,” (Y/N) spat back. “And if you want to turn everyone against me, you can go right ahead. I will make sure to do my absolute hardest to protect my friends from you. You’ll have to kill me yourself if you want to get to any of them.”

(Y/N) turned before Allison could say anything else, mounting her motorcycle and speeding off. Everyone she cared about was at risk because of her family, because of something she had helped do. She knew going against her family could have dire consequences for her, but she couldn’t simply stand by while her own cousin hunted the people she had befriended once upon a time—and some she had made sure to stay clear of. Even if they had supernatural abilities, the girl knew the relentlessness of her family. They had their scent, and they wouldn’t let it go.

As soon as she got home, she ran to her room to find Isaac now asleep on her bed, her dog curled by his feet. He looked calm and peaceful, even, unaware of the danger he was in. (Y/N) wanted to protect him and keep him safe for the first time in a very long time.

(Y/N) slithered onto the bed as softly as she could, trying to take advantage of the forty minutes she still had left until she had to go to school. But as soon as the bed dipped, both Isaac and Brody turned their heads toward the movement. “Hey,” she whispered as she finally settled onto her spot. “Go back to sleep.”

“You’re back already?” Isaac yawned. “What did they say?”

“We can discuss that later,” she dismissed. “You need all the rest you can get, kid.”

“Is it bad?”

“Later, okay? I can’t focus on that right now. I need to dream about the Roman empire before my test.”

(Y/N) walked out of the history classroom feeling content with her performance. Even if she had missed a few questions, she knew she had gotten the majority of the test right. And in the grand scheme of things, she was fine with celebrating that small victory. There might have been a killer lizard boy terrorizing the town controlled by god knows who, her best friend might have been hunted by her family, her situationship might have ended things, and her parents might have hated each other, but at least she knew she got a good grade on her test.

As she turned to the left to head to the cafeteria, she collided straight into someone, sending the book in her hands flying.

“Oh, god, (Y/N),” Stiles’ voice said. “Sorry. I wasn’t looking.”

“It’s fine,” she chuckled as she accepted his outstretched arm. “I wasn’t looking either. We’ve all got a lot on our minds, I guess.”

“You could say that again,” he laughed. But there was something different in the timber of his laughter. It wasn’t bright and cheery—not that she expected any less in a situation like the one they were in. “I feel like I haven’t seen anyone in years. These days…”

“These days have driven everyone apart, it seems—some more than others,” (Y/N) said with a sigh. "I thought I understood interpersonal relationships. Hell, I thought I understood what being family meant. But these past few months have shown me that I don’t know anything.”

“We know less than nothing,” Stiles added. “And these past weeks have taught us that.”

With a shared sigh, a thought popped into (Y/N)’s head. “Do you wanna ditch?”

“Like, school?”

“No, church,” she mocked. “Of course, school.”

“But there’s still half a day left and practice…”

“We’ll be back for lacrosse practice. I know the big game is tomorrow,” she stated. “It’s just a couple of hours and lunch. You can do that, right?”

“I mean, I guess I could.”

“If the principal has anything to say about it, he can bring it up at the next family dinner,” (Y/N) joked. "So, are you in?”

“Fuck it, I’m in.”

The pair of teens used the racket of class change in the hallways to slip out of the front doors. If anyone had noticed, they didn’t care as they ran to the parking lot. But they had not planned where to go. (Y/N) went left as Stiles went right, stopping once they noticed what they had done.

“My Jeep is better,” Stiles whispered. “It fits more people.”

“My bike is faster,” the girl retorted. “And I have an extra helmet.”

“I’m supposed to get on that death trap with you?” Stiles worried. “So, if the Kanina doesn’t get me, your bike will?”

“I’m a better driver on my bike than anyone could be in a car,” she said. “Live a little, Stiles. Who knows when we’ll be gone.”

With a fearful breath and a furrowed brow, Stiles reluctantly followed (Y/N) to her motorcycle. He tightened the straps of his backpack and climbed onto the bike behind the girl. For a second, he felt safe. As he balanced his body on the back of the leather seat, he thought it was fine. Until she roared the bike to life, and it rumbled under him.

“You might want to hold on tight,” she said. “I like to go fast.”

Stiles’ words died in his mouth as she gave the bike gas, and they sprung forward. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist a small scream left his mouth. The boy may have faced murderous lizards and wolves, but nothing could compare to the anxiety of having his life depend on a vehicle with only two wheels and no walls.

But soon into the drive, the boy leaned into the danger. His grip softened, and his fear turned into thrill. The rumble of the road felt different, the wind hitting his body was chilling but welcomed, and he felt like he could breathe. After months of treading water, he felt he could breathe.

Soon enough, they arrived at their destination. Beacon Diner was a staple in the town and a place she started frequenting with Derek up until he had decided to disappear from her life as though he had only been a passing thought.

It was odd to return to the establishment without him. Memories of their first time there came flooding back every time she went there, and that was the first time those memories had made her stomach churn. She had learned as much as she could about him, given an entire portion of her brain and her heart to him, all for Derek to simply discard it all away. But he wouldn’t hold everything in town hostage for her. She wouldn’t let him.

“Oh, (Y/N), nice to see you back,” her usual waitress welcomed her. “Cutting school again, I see.”

“Just taking an impromptu half-day, Molly,” she smiled. “Figured I’d get some early lunch from the best place.”

“Cafeteria food not cutting it?” Molly chuckled as she set menus in front of the teens. “And, hey, that’s weird, no Derek today? Haven’t seen the two of you here in some time.”

“Yeah. No Derek for a while,” (Y/N) managed to blurt out. “He needs some space, I guess.”

“Boys,” Molly playfully scoffed. “Well, then, what can I get started for you two?”

The pair fell into a comfortable silence after they made their order and got their drinks. It was the first time they had ever been by themselves, and they knew they made an odd pair to the naked eye. How could anyone know the trauma that already bonded them in such a short amount of time?

“So, things go south with Derek?” Stiles finally broke the silence after taking a sip of his unnecessary coffee, not really noticing the nonchalant tone of his words until after they had left his mouth. “I mean, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. It’s totally up to you. I don’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay, Stiles,” she chuckled softly. “It honestly came out of the blue. After the whole thing at the station, he said he had to put some distance between us because he couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t one day turn on him like Allison has turned on Scott and…”

“How Kate turned on him,” Stiles finished. “He really said that?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. Her eyes were trained on the ice of her drink because she knew if she looked at the pity in his eyes, she wouldn’t be able to stop the tears. “I thought we had gotten over that, but I guess he was just waiting for the right moment to use that card.”

“I’m sorry he said that,” the boy offered. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you could ever be like Kate. It might not mean anything coming from me. I know I haven’t known you for too long, and in the short time I knew your aunt, she was trying to kill Scott and me. But you’re nothing like her, (Y/N).”

“It means a lot, Stiles,” the girl smiled. “Especially since I wasn’t that great when I first came here.”

“Yeah, you were a hard pill to swallow,” Stiles chuckled. “But I get why you were like that. Thankfully, it didn’t last long. I like not being the only one who’s default is sarcasm.”

“I guess I got here just in time then,” she laughed. “I just wish I knew what my purpose is here. I mean, I’m basically the odd one out.”

“How so?”

There was a silence between them as their plates were set in front of them, an extra order of fries set between them. Molly told them it was on the house and left with a playful wink toward them. The pair burst out laughing, knowing the insinuation came from a good place.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Stiles mentioned as he popped a handful of fries into his mouth. “Why do you feel like you’re the odd one out?”

“When I came here, everyone already knew their place,” (Y/N) sighed. “And, I don’t know, I just feel like I have no role here. Like I wasn’t meant to stay here for long. Hell, even Derek is the creepy loner. I’m just… there.”

“Oh, god, and you think we have much purpose?” Stiles sputtered. “If it hadn’t been for an accident, Scott would have never been turned, and we’d be just as oblivious to everything as the rest of Beacon Hills. We’re all just winging it, honestly. Whatever we do right, it’s just because we most likely stumbled onto the right answer.”

“But even without the whole werewolf, Kanima, whatever nonsense, you would have still had a life here,” she said. “The only reason I’m here is because my dad wanted to be close to his brother, and the only reason we stayed is… well, I’m honestly not even sure why.”

“Maybe that’s your purpose,” the boy offered. “To find out why you’re here.”

“A journey to find my purpose in life… how absolutely coming-of-age film of me,” she chuckled. “Can’t we just be kids for a day? Jeez.”

“You can say that again,” Stiles laughed as he slumped in his seat. “I could do without the near-death experiences and the constant crippling anxiety.”

“Something tells me we’d still manage to be in similar situations regardless.”

“Something tells me you’re right,” he chuckled sadly. "At least we’re not going through it alone—well, not completely alone.”

“Isaac might not like it—hell, he will probably be jealous that I didn’t ask him to come with me—but you’ll always have a friend in me, Stiles,” (Y/N) smiled. “I might be new at this whole thing, but I’m still here.”

“Well, likewise. With how things are looking out, we’re all gonna need all the friends we can spare,” he said. “I just want this whole deal to be over with so we can get back to our boring, regular lives.”

“I think that might be too much to ask for,” she laughed. “Maybe let’s just hope the championship tomorrow goes on without a hitch.”

“Now that’s something I can cheers to.”

Next ->

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