#almost cutting his arm off to save him from wolfsbane poisoning?

[were-wolverine]

peter: hey, keep your guard dog on a leash.

stiles and derek:

derek: my bad, stiles stop tormenting peter.

stiles: aw :(

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader - Part 31

---------       

 I lunged for him, aiming for his neck. Michael lunged too, fangs bared and dripping with saliva. The problem with him was that he was so used to fighting like a human. He was so used to having the upper hand with all these tonics and poisons. But now, those could hurt him too. 

He grabbed my arms, thinking that I was some little girl that could be held down by him. 

No more. 

I slammed my head against his forehead and clawed at his shoulder, tearing fabric and skin. Then, kicking him into the wall, the dry wall caving in under the sheer force. He came back, and drew a hand back. He missed the first time, but the second blow hit my face. Nails cutting through my cheek, blood splatter on the wall behind me. The shock and pain made me back away and hold my face. He stopped and kneeled down to look at me, the cocky son of a bitch. 

"(Y/N/N), come with me and this all has to stop. No more hurt. No more fear. Come with me and the pain stops." I looked up slowly, feeling the blood trickle down my face. My eyes were drawn to the closet, where I could hear Nicholas crying under the blanket. 

Training with Talia was harder than I thought it would be. She never used claws or teeth, she never left bruises but it was exhausting. In a defensive exercise, I had been struggling to defend myself against her blows and the one I missed put me down on the floor. 

“Get up.” She ordered, getting in a stance again. 

Overwhelmed, I started to cry, “I don’t wanna do this anymore.” I whimpered. 

Talia crouched down, lifting my face to look at hers, “My love, you can’t give up.” She said, “Someday you’re going to be in a life or death situation. They may tell you that it will all stops if you give in, but you can never give in. You can never let them win. You are strong. You are a phoenix. And you will rise from the ashes and never back down.” 

I looked up at Michael through the blood and tears of my vision, "My pain...” I breathed out, “My family's pain ends with your head on a stick." I roared and high-kicked him in the jaw, sending him spinning to the ground. Not without his claws catching my collar, my sweater in shreds. I couldn't even feel the pain, it was all adrenaline. I had to save Nicholas. I would not let him get his hands on my baby. 

Michael groaned in pain, panting. I walked to the bed and grabbed a post, ripping it from the frame, splinters and nails flying across the room. While I wasn't looking he had crawled to the gate and somehow broken it in half with his boot. He was going to reach inside. 

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!" I rushed forward and grabbed his shoulder, throwing  him on his back and stabbed the post through his chest. Right into his heart. I glared at him, breathing heavily. He looked shocked, blood staining his teeth, but then he started to laugh. 

"MOMMY!" Nicholas cried. I looked at him, tears and blood on his face. But not his blood. Mine. I looked down and heard sizzling, and the smell of burning skin. Michael was holding a silver knife, the knife dipped in yellow wolfsbane. 

"Looks like the lines end here, darlin." He said weakly. His hands dropped from the knife. I closed my eyes, knowing I was killing myself. I slowly pulled the knife out, the plant starting to burn my hands and inside, before plunging into Michael's forehead, killing him instantly. I watched the evil drain from his eyes, a watery huk was his last breath.

I stood, not feeling the pain until a moment later. Groaning, I felt my eyes burning red, slowly transforming back. I stumbled back until I hit a wall and leaned against it, pressing my hand to my fatal wound. I rested my head against the wall and looked around. It was a mess. The room that Derek had built was in shambles. But this could be fixed. Me? I don’t think that I could get through this. From the silence I heard downstairs, they were gone... but I didn't know who was dead. 

"Mommy..." Nicholas whimpered, trying to climb over the barrier. 

"No, baby, stay there." I said calmly, "Everything's going to be fine." 

“But you're hurt." I sighed, knowing I couldn't just say I was fine. 

"Yeah, I’m hurt." Tears started building in my eyes, knowing this was how I was going to leave my baby. Scared and hurt. I just had to reassure him somehow.

“I love you so much, baby. So, so much. More than anything in the world-" I started to cough into my hand. When I pulled it away, it was covered in a mixture of blood and black goo. This was really it. Before... before it wasn't as important as it is now. I wasn't just leaving behind friends and family, now I'm leaving them all behind with Nicholas. He was a little boy who couldn't possibly understand what just happened. I barely understood what just happened. I knew I had to call someone, while I was still conscious. 

Grunting from the movement, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. The screen was cracked but it still worked. I held back a scream as the poison was spreading through my system. I fumbled with the buttons until I got the private line, hitting the speaker.

"Lachlan speaking."  His voice filled the room, "What's going on, (Y/N), is Nico alright?” He said after he heard Nicholas crying in the background. 

“Lach, Michael went rouge, he's not who he said he was-"

"We know, (Y/N), he left a note before he left, taking an entire pack with him. Where is he?" 

"I killed him." I groaned, coughing again, "He got me with yellow wolfsbane."

He paused, "(Y/N), the team is almost to your location, stay with me." The burning was slowly subsiding, now I just felt cold.

"It's too late..." I whispered, smiling weakly, “Just promise to watch out for him. He needs you now.” The phone slipped out of my hand and onto the floor. The last thing I heard was Lachlan shouting at me.  

DEREK

After the last beta fell, Derek couldn't help but be reminded of his own pack. His betas. His family. His friends. All gone. Panting heavily, he collapsed on the floor of the depot, slowly closed his eyes, hearing the screaming from upstairs.   

-

Slowly, Derek’s eyes fluttered open. He looked around, seeing dead bodies surrounding him. He groaned as he sat up, the first thing he could see was Peter on the floor facing away from him. Peter had taken a lot of damage for him, he was grateful. 

"Peter...." He called weakly. No answer. Derek sat up too quickly and groaned, the betas claws had cut deep, hopefully not enough to do damage. His side hurt too, but had no idea why. One by one, his senses were coming into focus. And the alarm in his head went off when he heard loud sobbing coming from upstairs. 

Nicholas.

His son’s crying was coming from the back room of the depot where he assumed Michael had taken (Y/N) during the fight. 

"I'm coming...." He said, grunting and stumbling to his feet. Making his way to the staircase. His voice was getting weaker and strained from screaming. 

"It's okay... I'm coming." Derek leaned against the wall half way through the hallway. He looked down at his red shirt, there was a large dark red stain that was still tender to the touch. His body was slowly trying to heal itself, harder than ever before. 

He finally got to the doorway and took in the damage in front of the door. Michael was dead on the floor, a bedpost shoved through his chest and a silver knife in his forehead. 

"Daddy!" Nicholas whimpered. His attention was brought to the closet, the gate had been broken. His tiny face was covered in tears, snot, and blood. The blood splattered across his face made Derek panic, terrified at the thought that he had been hurt. He fell to my knees in front of the gate, the carpet plastering itself into the wounds on his knees. 

Breaking away the remainder of the gate, he took his son into his arms, holding him close. Nicholas buried his face into Derek’s shoulder, wailing and sobbing.

Derek looked around the room. There was a hole in the drywall in the shape of a body being thrown, the bed was broken, finally when he got to the other side of the room, he had to tear his eyes away. He found her slumped against the wall, blood pooling around her.

The love of his life. 

With one arm holding his son, he scrambled across the floor to come to her side. 

“(Y/N), can you hear me?” His voice cracked. He reached out, lifting her head up. There were scratches across her cheek that were leaking blood and black. 

“Come on, sweetheart.” His words were mumbled with tears, his vision blurring. Her heartbeat was nearly undetectable. 

“Please.” He swallowed thickly, “You can’t leave me, I can’t lose you again. I just got you back. We’re gonna be a family, remember?” His lip trembled, “I can’t-... I can’t do this without you. I need you.” 

Suddenly, her eyes cracked open and a smile pulled at her lips. Derek grinned, pressing a kiss to her forehead. But just as he pulled his lips away, he felt his whole body go cold. Her eyes were closed again and her last breath slipped from her lips. 

“No...” He shook his head, “No. No!” He cried, “I’m supposed to save you. That’s what I do! Please, you can’t go. I need you.” He could feel Nicholas’ little hands, pulling on his shirt, tears soaking into the fabric. 

Booming from downstairs made him turn, hurried footsteps followed. Derek stood up quickly, holding Nicholas close, standing in front of (Y/N)’s body to shield her. 

Soon, a team of paramedics came in, but unlike any paramedics that he had seen before. Their uniforms were burgundy. They rushed to him a with stretcher in hand. 

“Alright crew, alpha female,  Aconitum anthora in her system from our intel. Get the torch and push ten cc’s Epinephrine stat.” The leader said, “We need to get her heart started.” Derek was carefully moved out of the way, brought to the other side of the room. 

“We need to get you looked at, sir. Please come with us.” The medic said. 

“You’re gonna save her, right? You have to.” Derek stared back at the other medics that were pumping (Y/N) with adrenaline and starting to cut open her side to burn away the wolfsbane in his system. 

“Miss (Y/L/N) is our top priority, Mr. Hale. She’s in good hands.” He nodded, “We already have your uncle getting assessed downstairs. Now we need you to come with us to get you looked at and make sure the child is alright.” The medic started to lead Derek out of the room.

“I can’t leave her, she needs me.” 

“Sir-” 

“I can’t leave her again.” He sounded broken, and he was. The worst part of this was he couldn’t feel the medics cutting her open to burn away the wolfsbane. He couldn’t feel them pumping her full of adrenaline. 

“Mr. Hale, I can’t imagine how you feel right now. But you need to get your son out of the room, he doesn’t need to be here for this.” 

Derek turned his head and looked at his child, still sobbing loudly, now coughing and screaming. He was going to make himself sick. (Y/N) wouldn’t want him to be in here, he needed to get him out. Protect him.

Derek nodded, starting to walk out of the room. But his son started to squirm and struggle. 

“Mommy!” He cried, “MOMMY!” He thrashed, reaching back towards his mother’s body, “I want my mommy! I want MY MOMMY!” Fighting back tears of his own, he carried the little boy out of the room, away from (Y/N). 

Maybe for the last time. 

-

Back at the Stilinski house, everyone was still on edge. There was still no word from the paramedics if (Y/N) was okay, or even alive. Derek still couldn’t feel anything. The only thing he could say to describe the feeling was numb. Like being left in an ice bath. He was sitting on the couch, with his son on his lap, she looked around the room.

Sheriff Stilinski was making calls to Melissa McCall to meet the paramedics at the vet clinic so she could help. Stiles wasn’t talking to Derek, the anger he had was tangible in the air. Lydia was at his side trying to calm him down, but getting Stiles angry and calming him down was not an easy task. He was still holding Nicholas in his arms, he was trembling and playing with his fingers. Puppy dog and his blanket were covered and blood and needed to be washed of his mother’s blood. 

Knocking at the door made everyone stare. The knocking was urgent and whoever was on the outside wanted in. The sheriff hung up the phone, walking towards the door with a hand on his gun. He opened up the door slightly. 

“Can I help you?” 

“My name is Lachlan, I’m a friend of (Y/N).” The voice said from outside the door. When Nicholas heard the voice, he jumped from Derek’s lap and ran to the door. 

“Lachlan!” His little hands pulled at the door, the sheriff opened it and watched Nicholas run out the door. The man from outside the door came into the house, hugging onto his son tightly. 

“I came as fast as I could, kiddo.” He said, pressing a kiss to the top of the boy’s head. Derek stood up, coming to meet the newcomer in the middle of the living room. The man met Derek’s eyes, a sad smile on his face. 

“Mr. Hale.” His accent was thick, thicker than the one his son had, “I’ve been anxious to meet you. If only the circumstances were better.” 

“You’re McLeod?” Derek asked, he got a nod in response, “You assigned Him to her?”

Lachlan glanced at Nicholas who’s little sniffles echoed through the room, “I did.” 

Derek glared, “If you weren’t holding my son-” 

“I know.” Lachlan closed his eyes and sighed, “If I could go back, I would. I thought that she was safe. That they were both safe. I guess...” He looked up, “I was so focused on making them both happy. Living in the fantasy that I finally had a family after losing mine. I was blinded.” Derek turned away from Lachlan, walking to the picture window in the living room. 

From what he had been told, Lachlan had a tragic story that wasn’t unlike his own. To be honest, Derek wasn’t totally sure that he wouldn’t have been blinded by family. 

-

Soon, Nicholas had fallen asleep and had been taken upstairs by the sheriff. This left Derek, Stiles, and Lydia with Lachlan. Scott had started making his way back from SoCal to help. This meant Stiles’ rage had been placed on someone else. 

“Ya know,” Stiles finally spoke, loosening his tie, “I’ve seen a lot of things in my life. I’ve known death intimately.” He stood up from his chair, Lydia following behind, “But I’m tired. We fought for years for our lives, our families, to bring (Y/N) and my nephew home. She trusted your judgement, she trusted you with her life and her son’s life. I don’t care if you were blinded by ‘family’.” He air-quoted, “As a leader, you should have looked in closer. You should have done more. And if she dies, I’m coming after you next.” 

Lachlan averted his eyes away from Stiles, holding his head in his hands. Stiles walked out the door, slamming it behind him. Lydia watched as he walked and looked at Derek. 

“I think you should talk to him.” She said, “You’re the only other person who she’s close to. I’m gonna go upstairs and check on Nicholas.” Derek nodded, following Stiles outside. 

- 

Derek found Stiles sitting on the curb, staring out into the void. His arms crossed over his knees. When he heard Derek walk up, he wiped his face to hide tears that had fallen. Without a word, Derek sat beside Stiles and sighed.

STILES

Stiles glanced at the werewolf beside him. At first he had been angry with him, angry that he didn’t protect her from that son of a bitch. But then what that Scottish guy came in, that’s where the anger had been directed. He wanted to say more. He wanted to yell and beat the living daylights out of him, werewolf or not. 

He knew Derek was hurting just as much as he was, maybe more.

“Did (Y/N) ever tell you about the time we went to the beach?” Stiles asked. Derek glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and shook his head. 

Stiles hummed and looked up at the clouds, “I was probably six or seven. We went to Laguna Beach for a day trip. My mom was still my mom and my dad was happy. We brought (Y/N) with us because I didn’t want to go anywhere without her. I just thought she was so cool.” He smiled, “She was older than me and she was stronger and faster than anyone we knew. I guess I know why now. And she actually wanted to hang out with me. She wanted to be my friend.” 

He licked his lips, “Anyway, my parents were up further on the beach and we were down near the shore. We were collecting seashells and rocks in a bucket that she carried because I wasn’t strong enough. Then these kids came up to us, they were probably in sixth grade or something. They took the bucket from her and dumped it on my head. Hurt like hell because we had some decent sized rocks in there and I had some cuts from broken shells.” 

He chuckled and shook his head, “(Y/N) went absolutely feral. She attacked them, screaming bloody murder. Throwing sand and poking their eyes and punching them. My dad had to pull her off of one kid, still punching and kicking. Then the kid called her a bitch. And that set me off so I punched him in the nose. We got in so much trouble when we got home. When her dad asked why she would do such a thing she said: ‘Because they hurt my Stiles. They hurt my best friend and they deserved what they got’.” Stiles wiped a few stray tears away and looked at Derek. 

“I told myself that day that I would follow her to the ends of the Earth if she asked me to. Because I knew that we would do anything for each other.” He let out a shaky breath, “She’s done so much for me and now I might never get a chance to tell her how grateful I am. I don’t know if I’m ready to say goodbye.” 

-

ONE WEEK LATER

DEREK

"Are you sure you want to do this?"  Sheriff Stilinski watched Derek intently over his cup of coffee, "I just think Nicholas might be happier near family." Derek had just told the sheriff that he would be moving his family further out of town, having spent the last year and a half rebuilding his family home. It was finished before schedule and move in ready. 

Derek hummed, looking over at the little boy in the living room, playing with his trucks. Making little car noises with his mouth and crashing them together. 

"I want to raise him in my home. I don’t want to be a sad place anymore." 

Both of their attentions were brought to the front door with Scott walked in. 

"Uncle Scott!" Nicholas grinned and jumped up in his arms. The alpha laughed and hugged him tight. 

"There's my little guy." He ruffled his hair before setting him back down again. He made his way into the kitchen and lowered his voice, "He seems okay, how's he been?"

“He's been better.” Derek huffed, “Deaton gave me some stuff to help with his nightmares." He leaned back on the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"I can't imagine what he went through. He's only a little kid." Stiles finally spoke up from the other side of the fridge, "And I guess that explains what this purple gunk is.” He held up a vial of purple liquid, swirling it around, “Be sure to take this with you." He grimaced.

"Has he said anything about Michael?" Scott asked. 

"I explained to him that he was a bad guy the best way I could. He’s still confused though. It’s gonna take some time for him to fully wrap his head around it. Whenever I ask if he wants to talk about it he says he wants time for himself and he lays in (Y/N)’s bed with the covers up.” He glanced towards the little boy, “He’s been waking up in the middle of the night screaming for her. McLeod said that he would be getting him into the best therapy care money can buy. He starts next week.” 

"Does he know about..." He started to ask, we all went silent, the only sound was Nicholas in the background. 

"No, he doesn't. Not yet." 

"How can you just not tell that his mo-"

"Because he's been through enough, Scott." Derek glared. Scott was about to say something but was cut off by Stiles. 

"That's why we called you here. Her friends already flew back, they all went to visit her. That's what we're gonna go. We're going to the hospital to pick up her stuff and then go to the cemetery before they leave." He said, not looking at anyone. Stiles really hadn't taken this well.

"Oh.." Scott said, "Well, I'll have mom meet us in the room. We should head over there." 

"Nico, let's go." He called to the little boy. Nico looked up and got to his feet, grabbing his freshly cleaned Puppy Dog. 

They went out to the front of the house. Derek had just closed Nico’s door after buckling him into his car seat when Scott came up to him.

"Where's Peter?" Scott asked, taking hold of the passenger door handle.

Derek shrugged, "He's going to meet us at the cemetery. He doesn't like hospitals." 

--------------

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[wednesdaysxreaders]

it all falls into place

lowercase is a stylistic choice

i’ve been writing different versions of that last scene for months skgfskdjfsdf

summary: dallas swallows her fear.

word count: 1551

she was used to waking up on a cold metal table, but she wasn’t used to her entire body feeling like shattered glass when she did.

       she pushed herself up slowly, groaning at the creaky feeling in her joints.

       “hey, take it easy, kid.”

       the voice wasn’t ellie’s, but josh’s.

       she squinted at him, the bright light of the warehouse stinging her eyes.

       “how—”

       “ellie and those preschoolers brought you here,” he said, handing her a bottle of water. “you were banged up pretty bad.”

       she set the bottle aside, only caring about one thing. “and brett?”

       josh scoffed. “let’s just say he’s lucky b made me do all that reading on wolfsbane. he was in bad shape—like, leaking black shit from his eyes—i barely managed to purge the wolfsbane before it reached his heart.”

       “but he’s okay?” she demanded.

       “physically, yeah,” josh said. “but the poor kid may be fucked up for life.”

       she glanced around frantically. “where is he?”

       “come with me.”

       as he led her further into the warehouse, she couldn’t help but notice the odd look he was giving her.

       “what?!”

       “did you really go up against an unknown enemy unarmed to help this guy?” he asked.

       “technically it was the number of enemies that was unknown,” she said, “but yeah.”

       he stopped. “you must really care about him.”

       “shut up.”

       he shook his head.

       “he’s back there.”

       “your workshop?” she asked.

       “temporary infirmary,” he corrected. “c’mon.”

       she followed him back to what he had definitely transformed into an infirmary. all of his projects had been swiped onto the floor to make room for brett, and he had dragged in an iv and other medical supplies.

       she immediately ran to the tableside, having to block a gasp with her hand at brett’s condition.

       if she didn’t know any better, she would have thought he was dead.

       his skin was deathly pale, and his breathing was so shallow she could barely detect it, and josh hadn’t been kidding from the black. his blood had started to turn black from the poison and it was all over his face, coming from his mouth and nose—and even his eyes and ears.

       she touched his cheek tentatively and almost immediately drew her hand back, clutching it to her chest and casting a questioning glance at josh.

       his skin was cold.

       “i had to make it almost frickin’ subzero in here to slow his metabolism,” he explained. “it was the only way i could think to buy myself some more time.”

       he quickly added, “i sedated him, too, so he could get some peaceful rest.”

       “thank you,” she said quietly. “what about lori?”

       “she’s upstairs,” he said. “i told her to get some rest. i figured you wouldn’t mind if she used your room.”

       “and ellie and liam?”

       he shrugged. “ellie took liam home. didn’t want this place to get too crowded, i guess. i think ellie said she was gonna stay at your place.”

       “why would this place get crowded?” she asked.

       “are you serious?” he quirked a brow. “as far as the hunters know, the three of you are dead. if they found out you’re not, they’d just come back harder to finish the job.”

       “are you saying we can’t leave?!” she demanded.

       he nodded solemnly. “yeah.”

       “fuck that, josh!” she yelled. “those assholes nearly killed brett! they hit me with a fucking car!”

       “i’m sorry,” he said, “but ellie can do magic and i don’t want to piss her off. you have to lay low for now.”

       she swallowed hard. “i have to sit here and do nothing while my friends are hunted.”

       “i’m sorry,” he repeated, turning and walking away.

       she grabbed the nearest heavy tool and hurled it after him, but he anticipated her doing so and dodged it.

       “fuck you,” she whispered, picking up the cleanest looking rag from his tool table and using one of his stockpiled bottles of water to wet it.

       she started to wipe the blood off brett’s face, careful not to apply too much pressure—as if he was fragile and would fall apart at the slightest wrong touch. she had to blink back tears as she cleaned his face, neck, shoulder, and chest.

       josh must have cut his shirt off to get to his wounds.

       as far as she could tell, there was only the puncture wound from the arrow in his right shoulder and what appeared to be a stab wound in the center of his chest.

       she squeezed her eyes shut as the tears came faster, wiping them away and spinning and kicking over the tool cart. behind her, she heard a soft groan.

       “brett?!” she spun back. “brett, can you hear me?”

       his eyes fluttered open and he flinched at the lights.

       “w-where—?”

       “somewhere safe,” she said softly. “how do you feel?”

       “like my entire body is on fire.” he struggled to sit up, so she grabbed his arm to help him. “what about you?”

       “fine, i think, all things considered.”

       he looked at her. “that car. . . you pulled us out of the way. . . you got hit. . .”

       “yeah,” she whispered.

       “why would you do that?” he asked.

       she chuckled humorlessly. “was i supposed to just let you get hit?”

       “i—” he sighed. “i guess not. i’m sorry, it’s just— the thought of you getting hurt because of me—”

       “how do you think i feel?” she exclaimed. “none of this would have happened if i had warned you about monroe!”

       “hey. . .” he slid off the table and took her face in his hands. “this wasn’t your fault. you couldn’t have known.”

       she pulled his hands away. “you almost died tonight because i was a pussy.”

       “dallas—”

       she cleared her throat. “i’m gonna go see if i can find you a shirt that’s not covered in blood.”

she couldn’t help the loud fuck that came from her mouth as she missed the next rung on the salmon ladder and crashed to the floor.

       she hoped her bones had fully healed—because if they didn’t, she just broke them more.

       she hissed through her teeth and threw the bar at the wall; it clattered to the floor pathetically and she sighed, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. with a deep breath, she stood up and walked from the training ‘course’ to the weapons table, starting to unwrap her hands. out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a tall figure standing nearby.

       “have you been standing there long?”

       “not long enough to be creepy,” brett said, coming closer.

       she chuckled, tossing the wrappings on the weapons table. “can i help you with something?”

       “i just wanted to thank you, i guess. . .” he said. “for tonight.”

       “it was no big deal.”

       he moved to stand beside her. “you saved my life.”

       “i almost didn’t,” she reminded, avoiding his gaze.

       “but you did.”

       “i don’t freeze up often,” she said softly, turning away from him completely. “but when i thought you were going to die tonight. . . i couldn’t function. . . i nearly shut down completely. . .”

       he sighed. “when i thought i was gonna die, i couldn’t stop thinking about lori. . . or you. . .”

       she almost whirled around in shock. “m-me? why me?”

       “isn’t it obvious?” he stepped closer to her, leaving only a few inches of space between them. “all the stuff in the air between us. . . you dance around it like it’s a game, but i really do like you. . .”

       “brett—“

       “you wouldn’t have agreed to go on a date with me if you didn’t like me, too,” he said.

       there was almost a hint of a smirk on her lips as she looked over her shoulder at him—her own form of defense. “how can you be so sure?”

       “you’re not like that,” he said, grabbing her hand.

       “you don’t even know me—“ she choked, instantly yanking her hand away. “not really. . .”

       she didn’t mean to react so aggressively, it just caught her off guard, but the damage had been done and she almost hit herself knowing she had fucked up again.

       “it’s okay,” he mumbled, turning away. “i get it. you’re right, i guess.”

       “brett—“ before he could walk away, she caught his arm. “please don’t go—“

       he looked back at her, and before she could give it a second thought, she closed the distance between them and kissed him.

       he stiffened in shock for a second, but relaxed immediately after, turning back to face her completely and taking her into his arms. she rose on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto him tight.

       it felt like hours before a tiny voice cleared its throat off to the side. they jumped apart to see lori standing at the top of the stairs.

       “about time,” she said, then turned to dallas. “josh wants you.”

       she went back down the stairs, leaving them alone again.

       “so. . .” dallas cleared her throat. “about that dinner. . .”

       he chuckled. “we’re on. you’d better go see what josh wants before he comes looking for you himself.”

[mermaidmafia-official]

{Part III: A COLLAR OF SPIKES}

tagging @bebemoon​, @ayzrules​, @interluxetumbra​, @bubblingbeautifully

the aftermath of march 18th, or: aaargh

‘So, you just kidnapped a werewolf.’ ‘Oh, I’m sorry, did my saving your furry little butt interrupt your dying-in-a-cellar-while-the-whole-island-burns-down party?’ He stumbled, and the vampire grunted under his weight. It was dark, and the air smelled musty and damp. ‘Alright’, he managed, between gritted teeth, ‘Why?’ ‘Why what?’ ‘Did you help me?’ There was a pause. He could sense the faintest traces of human presence, of booze and cocaine. A century old, at least. ‘I didn’t like what they did to you’, she said. ‘And I make very bad decisions.’ ‘Obviously.’ He grimaced. The pain he could take - that dull, reassuring ache - but he hated feeling this dizzy and limp. Ruddy vampires. They shouldn’t have known about the wolfsbane - no one had known for centuries. The wolves had made sure of it, ever since - ‘I’ve had worse’, he said, and she scoffed like someone who had never been tortured for information on the Borgia family in a Milanese dungeon. ‘Even so, shouldn’t you be healing by now?’ ‘Your friends had a little too much fun with me.’ ‘Not my friends.’ There was a thudding noise and he was doused in a cloud of dust. Coughing, he reached for something to hold on to and found rough brick. He could feel the darkness reaching for him, and fought. She was tugging him into a room filled with ghosts of scents - oak, perfume, whisky, and sweat… If I die here, he’ll never find me… Then, the darkness claimed him.

///////////

The smoke cleared slowly, retreating from broken city walls and leaving the corpses exposed. Raf licked the coppery taste of blood from his lips, and felt the adrenalin slowly drain out of his body. A dull pain raged in him, and he realised a deep cut in his shoulder had almost cleft his arm from his torso. He waited for the sharp sensation of flesh knitting itself back together, and came up empty. A wave of nausea washed over him. I have to find the others. Ten paces, with the world spinning around him, and then he was on his knees. I don’t understand. Someone calling his name. Ferrando, with black hair and blood-stained features, suddenly next to him, cursing and slapping his face. Raf growled. ‘Wolfsbane’, Ferrando explained, his face grimy with dust, as he pulled him to his feet, ‘laced on their blades. The one poison that may affect a werewolf. It dulls the senses and stops the healing.’ ‘How did they know?’ Ferrando shook his head. ‘That I don’t know, my friend, but you may be assured that I will find out - as soon as we get you out of here. You’ll heal as soon as the poison wears off.’ Raf grimaced as they stumbled across the battlefield, the scents of scarred flesh, smoke, and blood loud in his nostrils. ‘Cesare?’, he asked. ‘Spanked Sforza’s arrogant little arse. We’ve earned him a resounding victory, old boy, and the Borgia Pope will have no choice but to throw us one of his feasts!’ Raf grinned. That was good news indeed.

/////////////

Well, thought Nessa, watching a pale, amber-coloured whisky swirl around in her glass, as far as insanely stupid ideas are concerned, this one has to be my fucking masterpiece. I should get a trophy. She looked across the room to where the huge werewolf was curled up on one of the deep, plush sofas. In their best times, these sofas had easily carried six flappers and a dandy - now, the biggest one ached under just one wolf. She had draped one of the curtains from the Really Private Booths over him, feeling a little foolish. Did werewolves even feel cold? Nessa sipped her hundred-year-old whisky knowing it would do absolutely fuck-all, and remembered the sound of bones breaking, that night on the ice. He had healed in less than a minute then - so why not now? Well, if he dies on me, at least no one will ever know, and not just because I know how to dump a body. Her thoughts turned towards the coven. Had they all got out? If anyone took care of their own, it was certainly the Bloodmother… but there had been so much chaos. And all because one sleazy, pompous old fart without even one shred of substance or style - well- plenty substance, just not where it counted. Nessa knew a gang war when she saw one, and this one had just escalated. A sound interrupted her thoughts, and when she turned, the wolf was looking at her. ‘You’re still here’, he said, taking in the plush furniture, the old-fashioned chandelier, the curved ceiling, the bar. Nessa found herself wondering if he liked the place. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. It’s daylight out, which means I’m stuck here.’ He stared, annoyingly handsome even when dishevelled. Or especially then. Focus, Nessa. ‘Either you’re incredibly cocky’ he said slowly, ‘or you have the survival instincts of a dodo.’ Nessa huffed. ‘What do you know about dodos?’ His shrug turned into a wince. ‘Met them. Madagascar, 1694. They’re pretty dumb.’ ‘Well, I’m not… a dodo.’ How the fuck did we get here? ‘I’m just counting on your sense of fair play. And don’t tell me you don’t have one, I saw you race.’ He relented. ‘Won’t your coven miss you?’ Given they survived that mess. She shrugged. ‘Probably. They might just think I got lost, which isn’t that far from the truth - happens surprisingly often-’ ‘You don’t say.’ ‘-once, I landed in the middle of a rave in St Petersburg…’ Nessa squinted at him. Haha, funny werewolf. She was this close to poking her tongue at him. ‘Anyway, they’ll expect nothing less.’ Let’s hope that’s true. He leaned back on the sofa and crossed his arms. If he was still groggy, he didn’t show it. ‘So- what is this place?’ Nessa swivelled around on her barstool, trying to hide a fond pride under assumed casualness. ‘Used to be a speakeasy.’ He nodded, annoyingly unsurprised. ‘Run it yourself?’ ‘Oh you know, it was all the rage back then, every girl wanted one.’ ‘How come it looks like a time capsule?’ ‘You remember that crashing sound when we came through the door?’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘That was a wall.’ ‘Ah.’ ‘This used to be a railway tunnel, in the 1880s. I guess they just bricked it back up…I haven’t really been here since the fifties, but you should’ve seen the place in its heyday.’ He nodded. ‘Smells like it.’ Now he was just showing off. ‘No way you can smell that.’ Ah - wolfish smile. And a spark of mischief? Or the thrill of the chase? ‘Self-made moonshine, from the back. The very stuff you’re drinking right now, although I can’t say why… A smuggling tunnel to the harbour. Dancing and a band. Cocaine, quite a lot. And jazz.’ ‘Oh come on, even you can’t smell music!’ He grinned. ‘No, but the odds of guessing that one wrong were slim.’ ‘Granted.’ She leaned back on the bar. ‘By the way, do you want some? There’s nothing to eat down here and we’re all out of shirts, but if you’re thirsty, I got you covered.’ The wolf shook his head, apparently done with smalltalk. He got up slowly, grimaced, and started pacing to and fro. She didn’t object. ‘You go by Pixie, right?’ ‘With my human friends, mostly, but yeah. You can also call me Nessa.’ He tilted his head. ‘Since when do vampires have human friends?’ She crossed her arms. ‘Look here, wolf boy, I’d like to see your primary food source course through the veins of something that won’t shut up about cars and the economy and… fucking Game of Thrones. Of course, I would never drink Ian.’ ‘What the hell is an Ian?’ ‘Oh, he finds my food for me. You’d be surprised how many weirdos out there want to see their own blood in a wine glass. I think it’s a goth thing.’ Wolf boy looked confused. Luckily, she was used to getting that reaction from people. ‘Anyway, what do I call you?’, she asked, politely steering the conversation into more stranger-friendly territory. ‘Raf.’ There was a pause. ‘Oh, that’s it? That’s not your whole name, is it?’ ‘It’s enough.’ Only for Nessa, it wasn’t. ‘What’s it short for?’, she asked, and then, drawing a blank on names in general, suggested the only thing she could think of: ‘Rafaello?’ He stared at her, and said ‘no’ in that deadpan voice people sometimes assumed when dealing with her. She didn’t mind. Already, she was filing him away as Rafaello in her memory, even though he seemed to have little in common with a small, coconut-flavoured sweet. She took in his broad, bare shoulders, the movement written into every sinew and fibre of his body, and the keen green eyes that kept her in view. ‘You don’t seem the zealous type’, she concluded, finally. ‘I thought you werewolves were all about the blood war.’ He shrugged. Bruises shone in the half-light. ‘I’m a mercenary. Always have been.’ ‘Even in your first life?’ ‘Especially then.’ It wasn’t a joke or a brag, just a statement. Perhaps it was that this old speakeasy, with all its memories and the century-old shadows of party-goers, awakened her nostalgia, but Nessa felt something click into place. ‘Ah’ she said, with a little smile. ‘I always did have a soft spot for the stupid boys.’ Raf’s face darkened a little. ‘First off, I’m 550 years old, and second- you know nothing about me.’ She looked into her empty whisky glass. ‘True’, she agreed, ‘but you do kind of remind me of the ones I did know. Rakish and reckless, the lot of them.’ Cocky, and brave. ‘Nothing to lose and nowhere to go, and rage deep in their bones. Not like yours, of course, not the kind that comes out at full moon. It just… went into knuckle rings and switchblades and tommy guns.’ Rakish, and reckless, and needlessly dead before their time. ‘They wanted to run with the wolves, too - metaphorical ones, these ones, street gangs and rum runners and mobsters.’ She paused. ‘They tended to die badly.’ He stared and paced and said nothing. ‘And I know what you’re thinking, wolf, but I had nothing to do with that’ she went on. ‘I could never stand to watch all that spark- all that life- go to waste.’ She gestured vaguely at the empty space, which seemed for a moment to be filled with the spectres of long-dead dancers, and felt sad. ‘Even tried to turn some of them, back in the 1940s, when that seemed a very romantic thing to do. So much pain when they died, torn to shreds on the battlefields of France. Never tried it again, after that.’ In the ensuing silence, the dancers slowly faded back into darkness, and with it the faces of those young men that had come and gone for over a century. The wolf looked away when he said, ‘You still don’t know me.’ Her gaze wandered gently over his furrowed brows, the tired, yet defiant look in his eyes, the half-heeled cuts on his torso, and the hand clenching restlessly. ‘If you say so, Raffaello’, she said, with a shrug. And then he looked back at her, with just a flicker of a smile. She grinned. ‘Do you want that drink now?’

.

[justauthoring]

Unable To - Scott McCall

Could you do a Scott McCall x reader where the two are kidnapped together and the kidnapper is torturing the reader for information but Scott’s been given wolfsbane so he’s helpless to do anything but watch and it’s just 900% angst 💕💕

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

Word Count: 1,329

-

You came to with a thudding headache, eyes shut to dull the pain. The back of your skull throbbed, and you couldn’t help but curse softly. You tried to move, tried to inspect just what the hell was hurting so much, but found you couldn’t. Your arms were restrained on either side of your head, you realized. And your legs... your legs were restrained, too, you realized the moment you try to stand up.

You took a deep breath, growing eerily quiet as you tried to listen for anything that could possibly help you. All you heard was a distant dripping sound, which you figured was a running tap or leaking pipe, something of the sort. You also heard breathing, it was heavy, heaving almost. 

You wondered how long you’d been out cold. Your lips were parched, and your throat ached painfully, desperate for water. You knew you were hungry by how empty your stomach felt and how weak you felt. You had no energy, nothing giving you any strength to try to break free. You still hadn’t opened your eyes, too tired to.

Panic flooded you, a tremor of it vibrating throughout your entire being. You couldn’t remember what had happened, how you’d gotten here or why you’d been unconscious. You didn’t have a single memory of anything, that slight tremor growing until you felt yourself physically shaking because of your fear.

Your eyes snapped open, and you desperately tried to wrench your arms free, the thin strap around your wrist digging into it painfully. You cried out in pain, grunting as you did so, but still you continued to struggle against the restraints. It continued to dig and cut into your skin, drawing blood. 

“Y/N!” 

You gasped, snapping your head to the left, visibly relaxing when you saw Scott. Though, your confusion didn’t lessen, and the dull ache that seemingly echoed in your mind remained. “Scott?” You croaked, and suddenly you felt the overwhelming nerve to cry, your eyes watering. Terror flooded you, shaking violently where you sat.

What scared you the most was the fact that Scott had been left unrestrained. He laid, unmoving a little bit away from you, but close enough that you could see him through the thick darkness that surrounded you. Nothing was making sense, and your head hurt even more trying to think about it. 

Scott though, let out a breath of relief. “Thank God..,” he mumbled, and you noticed how weak his voice sounded.

“What’s... What’s hap-happening?” You cried, croaking as loud as you could. Pulling your eyes off of Scott, you looked around yourself, finally noticing just how you were restrained. You were pressed up against a chained fence, your hands locked against it with zip-ties. You realized, with a dazed mind, that you were standing, something you hadn’t noticed before. Zip-ties were around your ankles and calves, pressing you against the chained fence. “Where are.... Where are we?”

Scott sighed, “I... I don’t know...”

“It looks like my dear Y/N as awoken.” 

You gasped, frightened as you pushed yourself back against the fence as far as you possibly could. You stared out before you, but found that you couldn’t see anyone. The voice sounded familiar, but with your dizziness, there was no way you were able to place it.

You heard Scott grunt and noticed out of the corner of your eye, him crawled to his hands and knees with great difficulty. As soon as he’d gotten there, he fell back against the ground with a grunt.

“I wouldn’t strain yourself too much, Scott.” The voice spoke again, his footsteps echoing. “You’re gonna wanna be awake for the show.”

The man stepped out of the shadow, and you realized with a startlingly fright that you had no idea who it was standing before you. He was tall, taller than Scott from what you could tell. There was scratches along his face, starting at the top of his head and dragging down to his chin. One of his eyes was missing, and overall, he looked terrifying.

Whimpering, you blinked, trying to clear your vision. Your head still hurt like hell, your wrists still raw from your struggling.

When you opened your eyes, the man was before you. A cry left your lips when he grabbed ahold of your jaw, snapping your dazed gaze up at him. You didn’t dare say anything, afraid of what would happen if you did. Instead, you just stared up at him, terrified of what he was going to do.

A show? What did that mean?

“Please,” Scott cried, voice raspy and weak. “Just leave her out of this. She doesn’t know anything...”

For some reason, the entire thing seemed all too familiar.

The man only dismissed Scott, smirking down at you. “Ready for round two?”

Round two?”

He stepped back then, pulling something out of his pocket. You felt your entire body tense when you realized it was a controller of sorts. The man continued to shuffle back, grabbing a bucket of water you’d only noticed now. 

“Wait,” you cried, piecing the puzzle together. “No, please!”

The water had been dumped over your head, leaving you gasping for breath, shuddering underneath the cold of the water. Your nails dub into the palm of your head, rattling the chained fence as you shook violently.

“Please!” Scott bellowed.

“Look Scott,” the man ordered, voice suddenly darker. “I want you to look this time.”

Suddenly, a strong tingling sensation flooding through your entire body. It caused your muscles to tense, your body, every inch of it - your fingers, arms, feet, shaking relentlessly as blue sparks flew around your entire body. It was like a stomach cramp, but your entire body, instead of just stomach. The moment it happened, you threw your head back, smacking against the fence as you writhed.

“Y/N!” Scott cried, reaching out for you. “Y/N!”

When it stopped, you slumped forward, gasping for breath. Your head lulled forward, meeting Scott’s eyes. With a sudden realization, you figured out that Scott had been poisoned with wolfsbane. That’s why he wasn’t restrained, and why he was unable to get off the ground to help you.

“If you don’t wanna tell me what I wanna know,” the man growled, “then i’ll just electrocute you until you die.”

You blinked, unable to think straight. What did he even mean? Why did this feel so familiar? Like it had all happened before...

“I wonder how long a human can last? Hmm? Should we turn the voltage up?”

Your head fell back, Scott’s pleas and calls of your name quietening to the back of your mind. Your eyes fell shut, and you remembered. Remembered why this seemed so familiar... it’s because it’d happened before. That’s why you’d woken up from being knocked unconscious. This man, whoever he was, had knocked you out by electrifying you for information you nor Scott didn’t have.

And the entire time, he forced Scott to watch.

And now, it was happening again.

Your body seized, the man turning the dial once again. The blue sparks shot everywhere, and you gasped, heavy for just one breath. Your vision blackened, dark circles filling your sight as your entire body tensed. 

“Please,” Scott cried, “we don’t know! She doesn’t know!”

His pleas were useless. As you let your head drop forward again, your strength leaving you, you caught sight of the man again. He was enjoying this. He wasn’t doing this for the information, not anymore at least. He enjoyed slowly killing you.

You heard Scott scream your name one last time before you fell unconscious.

...

“You’re okay...”

The voice was distant, almost as if you could hear it but you weren’t there. A hand gripped your own, but for some reason, it still felt like it wasn’t there.

Had you been saved? Was Scott okay? Were you?

...Were you dead?

“Just stay with me, okay? Y/N? Stay with me...”

Scott.

“You’re gonna be fine.”

-

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

requests are open!

[thiamislove-thiamislife]

Overrated

9. “You’re in love with her.” & 17. “Love is overrated.” 

Liam stood there in the school parking lot, the very spot he had said those hurtful words to Theo almost a month ago, barely holding onto his phone in his trembling hands. It was well past midnight and he was all by himself, standing there in the dim orange glow of the sodium lamp that was buzzing overhead. He just couldn’t take it anymore. . .

Ever since that fight with the hunters in the hospital, something had changed with Theo and the rest of the pack. Don’t think for a moment it was an easy process, but after nearly sacrificing himself for Liam, and then taking Gabe’s pain away, the others in the pack had slowly begun to trust him as one of their own. Mason had lost count of how many times Theo had pulled him out of the line of fire, or how there was that time when Corey got hit by a wolfsbane bullet and Theo actually sucked the poison out of him while they drove to the hospital. He even picked up dinner a few times for mama McCall when she was pulling a double at the hospital. Whenever the pack needed him, he always seemed to be there; especially if it involved Liam.

For Liam though, things only seemed to get more complicated. He liked being around Theo, he appreciated how he had almost died for him. It was more than that though, that fight in the hospital was the first time they had fought together as true equals. After that night, they would train together, fight together, and even hang out at pack meetings together. Liam liked just even being around him, knowing that when he felt his anger start to get the better of him just one look at Theo and he would be able to control it. It didn’t matter if he was standing right in front of him, or across the room; Liam could look into Theo’s eyes and just somehow feel the calm flow into him, like he could tell that Theo knew exactly how he was feeling. Only lately that seemed to be the problem; anger was one thing, but more and more it seemed like Liam couldn’t tell what he feeling inside of himself anymore. The slightest thing would set him off. When they were in the thick of a fight, Liam would sometimes see the faces of his opponents replaced with Theo’s, only to feel the rage increase with every broken nose he delivered. Then the next day at the pack meeting, all he would want to do was be right by the chimaera’s side.

Theo was the calm eye of the storm that Liam could focus on when things got rough. He was, for better or worse, Liam’s anchor. That’s what made their fight that night so hard for Liam. Even after that, Theo still showed up to the pack meetings occasionally, and whenever they needed him he showed up, but things between him and Liam weren’t the same. Neither would give each other the time of day, nor even make eye contact. It was that last part that was driving Liam crazy. A wolf without his anchor was trouble; a wolf with IED without his anchor was a ticking time bomb. Liam missed Theo, he missed hanging out with him, he missed him sitting by his bed and listening to him ramble on about obscure history facts (something Hayden never could do), and he missed the way that somehow if he stared into Theo’s eyes all of his anger would melt away. That’s what made what he was about to do so hard.

That night, one month ago, Theo was driving Liam back after pulling him out of fight the beta stood no chance of winning. Liam had gone off on his own, and when Theo found him, the young beta was surrounded by near 50 hunters. Liam didn’t even seem to care, just nothing but pure rage as he tore through anyone he could get his hands on. By the time Theo got there Liam (who had done quite a number on the hunters) was in pretty bad shape, and still desperately outnumbered. Theo pulled him into his truck and got him away to safety. That’s when the real fight happened. Once they made it back to the school parking lot, Theo pulled the truck over and just glared at Liam. “What the hell were you thinking going off alone like that?! You almost got yourself killed!” Theo yelled

“I can handle myself” Liam muttered

“What IS wrong with you?” Theo continued

“Nothing, what’s wrong with you” Liam snarked back

“No, we’re not playing this game. You’ve been out of it for the past few weeks, now what’s bothering you, the Anu-kite is long gone, so what is it?!” Theo demanded

Liam sat there, brow furrowed in silence with his arms crossed.

“Wait, is this still about you and Hayden?” Theo asked with a half laugh on the end “Are you still not over that?”

“I’m in love with her” Liam softly said

“Well, I got news for you baby wolf!” Theo said “Love is overrated”

Liam growled

“and if you don’t get your head back under control, you’re going to get yourself or someone else killed!” Theo finished

“What do you care?” Liam replied

“Well I’m not going to be one of that ones that dies because of you!” Theo shouted

“Sure you are, you’re always saving me, why is that?” Liam said

“Did you ever think, some of us might actually care about you?” Theo said, shouting

“Saving me won’t make up for your sister Theo!” Liam hissed cruelly

Theo’s eyes glowed the angriest yellow you could ever imagine

“GET” * “OUT” * “NOW!!” Theo yelled, punctuating each word with a growl

As if by some miracle, at that very moment Mason and Corey had finally arrived at the school parking lot, in time for Liam to slam the door to Theo’s truck and climb into the back of their car for the longest, most awkwardly quiet car ride to Liam’s house either of them could imagine.

Now here he was, a month later, in the very same spot. No matter how much he tried he couldn’t get what he said, no, what he did to Theo out of his head. He had to make this right, he had to tell him the truth. . . .if he even still wanted to listen. Liam continued to stare at his phone, at long last he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and hit “send”. Then Liam waited. 10 minutes, nothing. 20 minutes, still nothing.

Theo was in his truck staring up the roof. He couldn’t sleep, every time he closed his eyes the nightmares would come. It was almost a relief when he felt his phone go off, that was until he looked down and saw the message: Liam: Help! There are hunters here at the school, I think I’m surrounded.

Liam was still waiting, a tear dripped down his cheek. 30 minutes had passed, and still nothing. “What was I thinking?” he murmured to himself. All of a sudden, an impossibly loud engine noise followed by white smoke and screeching tires filled the night air, and Theo leaped out of his truck over to where Liam was standing. Looking the beta straight in the eyes, he put his hand on Liam’s should and asked, “Are you okay?!” Liam nodded, shaking. “Where are the hunters, I don’t hear any other heartbeats.” Theo asked, now somewhat suspicious.

“there were no hunters” Liam said trembling

“what?!” Theo asked confused, “what was the text for then?!”

“I. . .I. . .” Liam struggled to get the words out of his throat. “I can’t do this anymore! I can’t keep pretending like. .”

“Like?” Theo asked, and almost immediately was cut off

“Like you’re not my anchor!” Liam shouted

Theo didn’t say anything

“Theo I need. . .I mean. . .I . . we’re. .” Liam trailed off not sure how to make the words appear.

“I didn’t mean what I said, I wish I could take it all back but. . .” the young beta said choking up. “I can’t do this without you” Liam barely whispered. “You wha-” Theo managed to get out before the beta had grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a quick kiss, before just as quickly pulling away.

Theo looked down into the eyes of the young beta, seeing all the vulnerability and pain he was feeling. Liam had tears streaming down his face. Theo quickly put his arms around Liam and pulled him in for another kiss, this one lasting longer. Liam looked up, caught off guard.

“I care about you Liam, you brought me back from hell, you gave me a reason to not just survive, but to live, and. . .to love” Theo admitted, assuaging the fear that had been building in the young beta.

“You . . . you feel the same way?” Liam replied surprised, yet also instantly happier

“Of course I do!” Theo said reassuringly, “I just, I thought you were in love with her?”

“Love is overrated” Liam replied back teasingly

Theo grinned a smug smirk and ran his hand through Liam’s hair.

“C’mon baby wolf, let’s get out of here”

[creativeashproductions]

Disingenuous // Stiles Stilinski

**Based on the latest teaser of the last episode of Teen Wolf, I twisted what a Valkyrie is also**

Summary: Racing to find Malia and Scott the unthinkable happens., your once enemy turned ally turned reluctant mentor is shot multiple times while you’re injured along. Thankfully your knight in a blue jeep helps save the day before learning about all he was kept in the dark about.

Characters: Stiles Stilinski x Reader, Scott McCall, Malia Tate, Derek Hale, Lydia Martin, Peter Hale, Deucalion and Dr Alan Deaton.

Words: 1530

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or the characters, though I’d like to own Roscoe. I do not own any gifs, images or lyrics that may appear in this. I do however own the idea of the reader being a Valkyrie.

Warnings: Swearing, pissed Stiles, blood, lying, death, fluff and angst.

Author: Caitsy.

Disingenuous is defined as pretending that one knows less about something that one really does.

A/N: I’m not prepared for Teen Wolf never returning. I’ve seen many pics being hospitalized after the shooting so I twisted it a little. Enjoy.

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Malia tackled you when the first bullet first into your shoulder but not quick enough to miss the second one that hit your midsection. You gasped as Deucalion fell with multiple bullet wounds in his midsection. You whimpered at the fright you were feeling in sync with the pain of being shot. You were a Valkyrie with Amazon blood but you were human also.

The pack with Peter turned to see that Monroe was watching them with men holding guns pointed at you all. It felt like slow motion but it wasn’t, the guns started shooting and Malia dragged you behind a pilar. You were useless even as you heard the crunch of a person being thrown.

Weakly turning your head to saw the beautiful picture you could have dreamed off. The blue jeep you had made out in many times had hit a hunter that was sneaking up on the group. The driver was your boyfriend Stiles, you saw his lips moving but you weren’t able to hear him.

“You didn’t think you were doing this without me did ya?” Stiles said to his best friend having not noticed you yet.

Shit was going to hit the fan when he noticed you were shot but it would get worse when he learnt that you were nearly killed in the shooting that took place at Scott’s house. Especially when he learnt that the McCall parents were in the hospital finally stabilized but you came close to needing to be there.

“Without us?” Derek said coming into view. He turned to crouch as he transformed and growled at the army.


“Hey hold on.” Malia said sitting you up against the pilar, “Why aren’t you starting to heal?!”

“I can’t heal with the bullets in me. Something is wrong about the bullets, my body won’t push them out.” You gasped, “I’m human still. I don’t heal as fast.”

“Y/N?!” Stiles shouted stumbling out to you not caring about the bullets flying, “Oh baby.”

“Hey Stiles.” You weakly smiled as he took care of holding you up. You tilted to watch as Derek went beast on the hunters even without fully shifting.

Seeing that they would lose no matter what the hunters retreating to their vans and peeled out of there. The remaining ones were abandoned to lay their unconscious and you hoped they were dead. You had hardened over the years since you first started your Valkyrie training and death didn’t faze you anymore. When Allison died you didn’t think you would emotionally recover but it built the shield around your feelings.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me any of this. Not a word, not a single word.” Stiles huffed towards everyone in the pack. You coughed while Lydia took the role of answering him.

“We had reasons.” Lydia said crouching down to help you up, “Really good reasons.”

Stiles gave her a look while gesturing towards you before gathering you up in his arms as if to protect you from any harm. You were carefully held up to hear Deucalion’s last words that you honestly weren’t ready to hear. Of course you had wanted to kill him but that was so long ago you didn’t even remember it.

“My girlfriend was shot. I think I deserved to know the shit show taking place in Beacon Hills. Where’s the baby beta?”


“At the hospital last I heard.” You informed him with a large wince, “Also Stiles, I didn’t want you to know because you would drop your life in Washington to come fight.”

“Of course I would!” Stiles exclaimed as Deucalion used his final moments to speak with your Alpha.

“I couldn’t let that happen.”



“You are my life Y/N Y/L/N!” Stiles shouted pushing his free hand through his hair to the back of his neck.


You began to black out as Deucalion released Scott’s hand and joined the afterlife.

“It’s really started hasn’t it?” Malia broke the sad silence. Despite the ongoing problems with the hunters brainwashing the entire town it hadn’t sunk it. You could describe the experiences before Stiles and Derek showed up as if you were underwater.

“In the last week I’ve been riddled with bu…bullets Malia.” You groaned, “It started long ago we just haven’t accept our deaths. Valhalla here I come.”

“You were shot more?!” Stiles burst out, “I’ll deal with not knowing my girlfriend was shot before! What’s started?”

There was a beat of silence as everyone looked at each other to reveal to Stiles what they had been hiding from him.

“It’s an all out war.” Scott broke before rushing to Derek for a hug, “It’s not something we’re ready to deal with and it’s not against supernaturals. We’re fighting human hunters.”

“Guys we have to get her to Deaton.” Malia said watching your head roll to the side, “Something is wrong. She’s not healing.”

“She’s human.” Stiles argued getting a better grip on you. He was glaring at her trying to take your body weight.


“No she’s right.” Lydia said coming closer, “There’s white veins appearing on her body. I think they used something. Something that Deaton would know or else she’ll be joining Valhalla.”


“We don’t know where he is.” Peter inserted in his typical pessimistic way.


“Okay one: when did he join the pack?” Stiles said pointing towards the Hale he hated most, “Two: why didn’t you call me before?”


“They took the cell towers down.” You whispered shifting to take the weight off the wounds, “They wanted to cut us off from each other.”

“That why you weren’t responding to my messages.” Stiles breathed in relief just as he helped me get over to the jeep.

The wounds were starting to bleed more as your body wasn’t capable of starting the hours long healing process. There had to be something about these bullets but one of the deputy’s had accidentally shot you a few years back. The bullet was painfully rejected by your body.

“Keep your eyes open!” Stiles hissed as Scott climbed into the driver seat. Stiles reluctantly got into the backseat for many reasons. One being that he wasn’t in the loop of Beacon Hills leaving his knowledge of Deaton’s whereabouts unknown.

“It hurts.” You gasped as the white veins traveled further down your arms.


“Hold on.” Scott said squeezing your shoulder. Had you not been injured Stiles would have been very concerned on the speed the jeep was travelling.

You blacked out right as Scott practically drifted around the first corner. All you heard before you were completely out for Stiles frantically calling your name.

“Remember sophomore year when you yelled at Derek was getting blood on your seats.” Scott chuckled remembering the early days.


“The days where all we had to deal with was Peter, Jackson and your powers?” Stiles smirked, “Do you still have the computer chair?”


“Dad saw it. Tried to replace it. Didn’t work.” Scott sighed using his hearing for the distinct sound of Deaton speaking and his heartbeat.

“Get her on the table.” Deaton said elegantly grabbing supplies when Stiles carefully shifted your head into a comfortable position, “What happened?”



“Monroe ambushed us when Deucalion was teaching Malia and I how to fight without looking at the Anuk-Ite.”

“The what?” Stiles exclaimed whipping his head to look at his Alpha, “Also you and Malia as in dating each other?”

“Not the time Stiles.” Deaton sternly said, “What happened after?”


“Y/N was shot two or three times before Malia tackled her and Stiles hit one of the hunters before Derek appeared-“


“He totally went into beast mode.” Stiles inserted.


“I think I know why Y/N’s body isn’t healing. I need you both to go into the next room and cover your eyes.” Deaton coaxed as he turned around to loot in one of his drawers. When he turned back he had a form of a welding helmet.


“What the hell?” Stiles grunted as Scott dragged him into the next room. Even through his eyes the entire building inside was blasted with a silver light and it hurt.

Next Y/N screamed with enough force the walls shook in the clinic as if an earthquake was erupting there and only there. The clink of metal hitting the floor came next before Deaton calmly called out the two boys.

“The bullets had a poison that was starting to leak into her body. Similar to wolfsbane and mistletoe the poison caused severe bleeding and no ability to heal.” Deaton explained before pouring a mixture down your throat.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked moving to hold your seizing body, “Oh that’s gross!”

“Her body is pushing the rest of the poison out.” Deaton confirmed when a black tar mixture poured out of the holes in your body and the wounds healed, “I mixed up two different plants that targeted the injuries to flush it out and heal her almost as fast as Scott.”

“Is she fine?” Stiles questioned as you leaned up with a loud crack from your tensed back.


“I’m okay.” You confirmed stretching your muscles out while Stiles took a breath of relief.

“What do we do about this Anuk-Ite?” Stiles questioned leaning forward.

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[hard-satin]

Orphans (4.06)

Masterlist

“He’s going to be okay. Stiles and Derek took him to a sort of werewolf doctor.” I assured Liam as he asked me about Brett as we walked past the locker room looking for Scott.

“Dad, really it’s okay.” Scott stood down the hallway talking with his father. Liam and I hung back and listened in.

“I should have been here. I told you I would be at the games.” Agent McCall told him.

“This was just a preseason scrimmage. I didn’t even tell you about it.” Scott told him.

“But I promised your mom I’d be around so she could pick up some double shifts at the hospital. I should have been here.” He argued.

“You’re here now.” Scott reassured him. The cops came down the hallway leading the crazy bitch away. Something seemed to catch Agent McCalls attention because he chased after her with Noah a second later. Liam and I rounded the corner to talk to Scott as the adults disappeared around the corner.

“Where’s Kira?” Scott asked us.

“Gone.” I told him.

“She took off as soon as Stiles told her about Lydia cracking the second part of the deadpool.” Liam added.

“Her mom’s on it.” Scott realised.

“Everyone’s on it.” Liam told him.

“You’re not.” Scott pointed out.

“Not yet. There’s still another third right.” Liam pointed out.

“Look we’re going to make it through this. Maybe not everyone on the lists, but our pack will. We’re going to be looking out for each other. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” I assured him. He nodded.

“Guys I just overheard my dad. We need to get into Garrett's locker.” Scott told us. We both ran back to the locker rooms that had since been cleaned out. Liam stood watch by the door while Scott and I made our way over to the locker.

Scott pulled off the lock with ease and then opened it to reveal a gym bag filled with cash.

“Did you find anything?” Liam asked.

“No. Nothing.” Scott told him before I could say anything about what we’d just uncovered. I gave him a disapproving look, but didn’t contradict him.

-

The next day I met Liam outside his house as he came out in his running clothes. He started stretching on his front porch. He jumped when he noticed me standing on his lawn.

“What are you doing here?” He asked me confused.

“I told you I’m going to be watching out for you.” I told him.

“Well I’m about to go on a run with Mason.” He informed me.

“I know. I’m coming too.” I told him. He opened his mouth to say something else but inevitably closed it when he realised there was no point.

Liam and I ran to Mason’s house and he met us out front. He smiled and greeted me warmly. I smiled back at him. I genuinely like Mason. The three of us took of at a slow pace into the woods. Mason was going on about how Liam and him were friends with the orphans.

“It’s not just that we were friends with them, they were using us. For their cover. I mean professional killers were using us! How are you not freaking out about that?” Mason asked. I could tell Liam was freaking out, his heartbeat was way too fast for the pace we had set.

“Trust me. I am freaking out.” Liam told him before he just took off.

“Liam! Slow down!” Mason called after him.

“Liam!” I called but he just kept running. Mason looked to me.

“I’ll go get him.” I assured Mason taking off after Liam.

I ran around the bend in the track just in time to watch Liam get hit by a car. I ran to his side. He was bleeding but nothing too serious. He was already starting to heal. I turned to face off against whoever it was only to catch a blade in the face. I rolled away from Garrett as the wolfsbane laced cut on my face burned. He turned back to liam, raising the blade to plunge it into his center.

“No!” I yelled at him throwing myself between them. Taking the blade in the arm. My world was starting to go dark.

“Liam run.” I tried to tell him. I could no longer move. I watched through blurry eyes as Garrett finally brought the blade to his skin.

“I’m sorry.” I told Liam as I lost consciousness.

-

I jolted awake as my body became submerged underwater. I broke the surface gasping for breath. Liam was across from me. The water was shallow enough for me to stand and I launched myself into his arms.

“I thought he was going to kill you!” I told him as I clung to him. He held me tight.

“You’re worth twenty million dollars. If he was going to kill anyone, it would be you.” Liam told me. I chuckled weakly. The effects of the poison were not lost on me. I examined the cut on my arm. I was deep. The one on Liam's stomach didn’t look good either.

“Help!” I yelled up the well.

“Scott is anybody there?” Liam yelled. We continued yelling for another couple of minutes. Either someone heard us and was on there way, or more likely no one heard us at all.

-

Hours passed and I could feel myself getting weaker by the second. Liam was fairing only slightly better than me.

“We need to climb out.” I told him, my voice hoarse and weak.

“I don’t know if I’m up for that.” Liam told me.

“We have to try.” I insisted taking hold of the wall and trying to get up.

Our progress was slow but we were making it. I was almost halfway up when my strength gave out. I fell back from the wall. I felt my head crash against part of the rock before my body was deposited in the water. I closed my eyes. I didn’t have the strength to pull myself above the surface.

I felt the last of my breath leave my body. Then two strong arms wrapped around me and pulled me from the water. I choked and gasped for breath in Liam’s arms.

“You’re okay. I have you.” Liam told me as he held me. He brought his hand to the back of my head and it came away soaked in blood.

“Go. Liam, you have to go.” I told him still unable to move most of my body.

“I can’t just leave you.” He argued.

“I’m going to die either way. I can’t heal with this poison in me and I’m loosing a lot of blood. I promised to protect you, this is how. You have to go.” I told him.

“No. I’m staying with you.” He told me.

“You’ll die if you stay.” I warned him.

“Then we’ll die together.” He assured me.

-

I was in and out of consciousness for the next couple hours. Everytime I opened my eyes Liam seemed to be in worse and worse shape.

“You know you don’t have to be sad for me.” I told him when I opened my eyes again.

“What?” Liam asked.

“We both know I’m dying. We both know I don’t have much time left. But you could. I want you to go. For me okay.” I begged him.

“No. I can’t. You’re too young. You can’t die like this.” He told me.

“I wouldn’t be the first of our pack. It would give me peace knowing that you had a chance.” I told him nodding to the wall. Liam started crying. He shook his head back and forth.

“Liam, I grew up bullied by kids at school. Hell even by my own father. This life gave me power. It shaped my world. My mother and father are both dead, but the pack means I still have a family. Liam, you are my family now. Let me die so you can live. Let me die for my family.” I begged him. Liam’s resolve seemed to harden. I closed my eyes, waiting for him to let my weak body float in the water. But he pulled me closer.

“Hold tight okay. You can do that.” He assured me as he wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. He moved over to the wall as I clung to him like a spider monkey. He started moving up.

“Liam. Just leave me.” I begged. I knew he would have a better chance if I stayed behind.

“You said it yourself Jamie. We’re family. Family means nobody gets left behind, or forgotten.” Liam told me. My brows furrowed at the familiar comment.

“Did you just quote Lilo and Stitch?” I asked him.

“Mason got to pick the movie for our last movie night. He really likes disney.” Liam admitted. I chuckled softly, it quickly turned into a cough.

“Take it easy okay. We’ll be out of here in no time.” Liam assured me.

We were steadily ascending. When Liam grabbed onto a loose stone and his hand slipped. So did I. I fell from his back, but his hand reached out and grabbed my arm. He screamed at the strain. It turned into a deafening howl as he pulled me back to him. He was tearing at the wound in his center with every effort to pull me back to him. Somehow he did it. I clung with all the strength I had as he continued climbing. He was slower and shakier than before, but we were still going up.

We were so close when I felt him losing all his strength. I knew what I needed to do. I let go of my hold on him.

“No!” He screamed grabbing hold of me again.

“Liam, you won’t make it if you have to carry me.” I warned him.

“Then we won’t make it.” He told me.

“Don’t be stupid Liam.” I pleaded desperately. I watched as he let his last hand slip from the wall. I screamed, but we didn’t fall. A hand reached out and grabbed Liam’s at the last second. I looked up into Scott’s beautiful glowing red eyes.

Scott lifted us from the well. He sat Liam at the edge. He was still holding me. I looked up at the younger boy as I felt the adrenaline from the climb recede.

“Thank you.” I told him. He smiled in relief at me. I felt Scott’s arms wrap around us both as I lost consciousness.

-

I woke up to a sharp pain in my chest. Deaton was standing over me and there was a yellow mist floating away from me. Liam lay to my side. I could tell he was breathing fine. He bore a similar cut in his chest. Scott stood over me his arms on either side of my head. I reached up and held his wrist, nuzzling my face into his forearm as tears escaped my eyes. I was overcome with joy. I had thought I would never see him again.

“I can’t keep watching people die.” He said leaning down to place a kiss on my forehead.

“I’m not sure you have much choice in that.” Chris told him.

“That’s a lot of burden to carry Scott.” Deaton warned him.

“I don’t care. No one else dies. Everyone on that list. Everyone on that deadpool. It doesn’t matter if they’re wendigos, or werewolves, or whatever. I’m going to save everyone.” Scott declared.

[milenadaniels]

Part 2 in the series + sequel to Momentary Reprieves.

Hit the Read More to read on Tumblr instead!

Months of researching, weeks of putting a plan together (admittedly longer than he usually had), 3 days of springing into action, and a scant 9 minutes in and out of the building where Derek was kept. It was a long time to live with such a poignant sense of urgency driving your every step, setting the rhythm of your heartbeats, manipulating your neurochemical responses. Insomnia, hyperfocus, surges of adrenaline - those side effects had served him well, especially on the two-hour car ride out of Dodge, as it were, on about three hours of sleep in the past two days. Derek, as always, had been utterly useless in that capacity, having opted to pass out due to his injuries pretty much as soon as the wheels crunched over gravel.

He woke up briefly to assist Stiles in hauling his nearly dead weight into the nondescript motel room in some suitably unknown town near the national forest, but he was out moments after hitting the mattress. Having been bloody, dirty, and very still, Stiles had stopped the car about 20 minutes out, when he felt relatively sure they weren’t being followed, to make sure Derek hadn’t actually died, and with a bit of poking and prodding, he determined they were fine to continue. Now, in the motel room, he enacted part two of the poking and the prodding (as well as he could given the immovable 200 pounds of werewolf he was dealing with). What wounds Stiles could see - and there were a nausea-inducing ton of them - were healing well enough, and he was fairly sure Derek was just sleeping it off.

So. That was it then. Derek in trouble, Derek saved. FBI and SWAT evaded. Good job, team. Time for a well deserved snack break and nap.

If only his racing mind would allow for something like that.

With an irate sigh, Stiles threw himself on the other double bed and slid his phone out of his pocket. He could really use Scott right now, or Lydia, or even Malia. But he hadn’t called them two months ago. He hadn’t called when he had a plan. He just...never called. What would he say now? “Hey guys, you’ll never guess what just happened two months ago…”

They’d made a promise, all of them, that they’d call him if ever there was trouble brewing in Beacon Hills. And they hadn’t called. They did call to catch up at least once a week but reports were that everything was calm back in the epicentre of hell. So, what? Stiles would call back home to let everyone know he found the supernatural drama all on his own without the need for a cursed town? He would rope them into leaving almost certain death to come risk it in fucking Virginia instead? Besides, there was a non-negligible chance their response would be “Damn, that sucks for Derek. It’s not your problem, though?” and somehow Stiles knew he wouldn’t react well to that. So really, better all around that he had gone it alone. And it worked out! Mostly. He just didn’t really know where to go from here. Which is why he really needed to talk to Scott. But...wash, rinse, and repeat.

Grumbling with frustration, Stiles rubbed the edge of his phone roughly against his brow and then lobbed it at the end of the bed. He picked up the old school tv remote instead. Sleep could wait. He wouldn’t be able to sleep with the paranoia that Derek could stop breathing at any moment anyway.

Stiles woke up half-choking on a breath that didn’t know if it was coming or going. Despite the rude awakening, and the annoyance that he hadn’t been able to stay awake after all, he felt a bit more grounded. Less on edge. Out of habit (because he did manage to check at least 4 times before he conked out), he turned his head to the left and focused in on the line of Derek’s ribcage.

In and out, right on schedule. That was something.

The sun had barely been peeking over the horizon by the time they’d gotten into this motel room, but it looked to be high in the sky now. He should probably close those drapes better, but the sun didn’t seem to be bothering the rock that was Derek’s body any so who cared.

Having gotten (some of) the rest he needed, Stiles’ stomach reminded him about the snacking half of his recuperation formula. His phone confirmed it was mid-afternoon, so Derek had been sleeping for at least seven or so hours, counting the two in the car. Did that mean that he’d be likely to wake up soon - and would therefore freak out if he woke up to find Stiles gone for takeout - or did it mean he’d be out another twelve hours while Stiles slowly starved to death on the neighbouring bed?

Stiles was nothing if not solutions-oriented, and 32 minutes later, he was opening the motel door exactly four inches wide and obscuring any views of the room with his body while both he and the pizza delivery guy tried to pretend everything in this very sketchy situation was fine. It all worked out. Some toppings went askew when he tipped the box over to fit in the gap but mostly a success.

Halfway through the large pizza and two episodes of a MASH marathon, the sheets of Derek’s bed rustled. Hesitantly, Stiles transferred the pizza box from his lap onto the small table and took his feet off the other chair, letting his own settle back on all four legs.

“Derek?”

Nothing.

“You waking up?” he whispered.

In response, Derek let out a sound between a gasp and a cry. Stiles was on his feet instantly but stopped a foot short of the bed. It was never a good idea to startle a half-aware werewolf.

“Derek? You back with me, dude?”

Derek’s eyes were screwed shut and his brows were drawn close together. He seemed to be trying to move up his elbow on the bed to prop himself up.

“Hey, you don’t need to get up. Just waking up is a win, trust me.”

Derek didn’t acknowledge him. One moment he was gasping in pain, the next he’d taken a large breath and forced his arm out to shove himself into a sitting position at the edge of the bed. Well, it would have been a sitting position if he hadn’t immediately curled down over his knees.

Without conscious thought, Stiles threw out his hands to catch his shoulders. Unfortunately, just-waking-up-Derek did not take kindly to people in his space. Fortunately , he was too weak for his shove to really hurt and the other bed was kind enough to catch him.

“Okay. Gotcha. Sorry, no touchies. Probably got way too many touchies in the last while.” He winced at his lack of tact but he felt an irrational urge to ramble. “You doing okay? Good nap? Any immediate pains we need to address? How’s your stomach? You said it hurt when...earlier.”

Derek was very obviously tuning him out. To be fair, he was such an ashen colour that Stiles was reminded of the first time he become familiar with wolfsbane. Derek had been that exact shade right at the end when he demanded his arm be cut off. Actually, now that he thought about it...

“Hey,” Stiles tried again, his voice losing its comedic edge. “I know there’s a lot to process, but there are healing puncture wounds on your arms.” It took several seconds, but Derek absently looked down at his sleeve covered arms, so at least they were in the ballpark of being on the same page. “I saw them when I got you out of there. Did they inject you with wolfsbane? I’m not seeing any conspicuous black veins but I don’t know what else they would have given you. I’ve got some with me if we need to burn it.”

Derek, having had his fill of looking at bloodied and dirty sleeves, rested his elbows on his knees and let his head hang.

“Hey, come on,” Stiles pestered. “This is important. Literally life-or-death import-”

Derek shook his head.

“No? No, you weren’t injected with wolfsbane?”

Derek paused, then shook his head again with more confidence. He coughed twice to clear his throat, then lifted his wrists.

“It was in the cuffs.” His voice sounded like he’d gargled glass. Which, given the deep burn marks on his neck, was probably entirely justified.

“Can it poison you that way?”

Derek shook his head again.

“So what did they inject you with? Can you tell if it’s still in your system?”

Derek’s brow furrowed. He looked over at Stiles, who followed his gaze down to his hands.

“It’s out of my system,” Derek said with a sigh Stiles couldn’t interpret. There were so many follow-up questions begging to be asked, but Stiles didn’t want to overwhelm him now that he was responsive.

“Three cheers for the werewolf metabolism!” He tried to muster up some actual cheer but, given the topic, his enthusiasm couldn’t quite get there. Instead, he looked over to the pizza forgotten on the table. “You’re probably star-”

Without warning, Derek shot up to his feet and Stiles instinctively leaned back to make some room between the beds. That is, of course, until Derek realized being vertical had not been a good idea and his knees started to buckle.

With a grunted “why do you always have to make everything more difficult?”, Stiles jumped up and threw an arm around Derek’s waist to try to keep him from falling, but when he tried to guide him back down to the bed, Derek found some reserves of strength and fought to stay up.

“What are you doing?” Stiles snapped.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Derek ground out like he had no idea his face was a mask of pain. Like it was normal to wake up from a torture coma to just get back up and shrug it off for a pee break.

“And it doesn’t occur to you that I am literally a foot away? And, like a normal person, you could say ‘Hey Stiles, buddy, mind giving me a hand across the room?’ instead of faceplanting into what has to be very suspect motel carpeting? Has it not occurred to you yet that stubbornly doing things on your own does not achieve the best results?” Stiles pushed himself away as far as he could while still supporting him so Derek could see his face. “What is wrong with you? Genuine question. You are beat half to hell, I can’t even guess the other half of whatever they did to you because no one has ever faulted psychopaths of not being creative, and I’m standing right the fuck here. Offering help.”

“Stiles,” Derek bit.

“What?” He fired back.

“Mind giving me a hand across the room?” He asked, nonchalantly.

Fucking Derek Hale. Stiles sucked on his teeth for half a second and bit down the rest of what could have turned into a tirade.

“No, Derek,” he replied in kind. “I don’t mind giving you a hand across the room.”

The two of them now working together, they shuffled around the second bed and got to the bathroom without incident. Just when Stiles was mustering up the objectivity to offer to help him relieve himself, Derek swung out of Stiles’ grip, levered himself into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

“Oh that’s just...super,” Stiles griped, gnashing his teeth and curling his hands into fists instead of throwing middle fingers at the door. Okay, he threw one. It’s not like werewolves have x-ray vision.

With a disgruntled sigh, he sat back down on the bed and waited. There was silence for an almost worryingly long time, but then Derek was moving again, and Stiles tried not to listen but what are you gonna do. Actually - he turned the tv back up, MASH was still going. Silence fell again in the bathroom. Then, the sound of the shower curtain screeching against the metal rod as it was pulled back.

“Are you serious right now.”

The shower turned on.

“Dude, you can barely stand!” he yelled at the door.

The shower stayed on.

“Fine, break your fucking neck. Why not? See if I care!”

The shower curtain screeched again as it was closed.

Stiles went back to gnashing his teeth and resolved not to listen. Derek could slip and crash and get knocked out and Stiles wouldn’t budge from this fucking bed. Fuck him. He was a werewolf, he’d survive a broken neck. Not like he was going to drown in 2 inches of water. Unless he fell on his face maybe.

Someone was getting upset on MASH, but he didn’t know why. They started yelling and Stiles reflexively turned the volume down a couple bars. Derek had been in there ten minutes at least. No falls yet. But Stiles wasn’t about to make the mistake of thinking it would turn out fine.

Turning back to MASH, he found himself annoyed just looking at the characters. He didn’t know what was happening and he didn’t care. Instead of trying to focus, he got off the bed and pulled the second duffel onto the table - pointedly ignoring the first duffel emblazoned with the yellow “FBI” lettering on the side - and pulled out what he needed.

“Hey, ingrate,” he called through the bathroom door. “If you survive, there’s clean clothes at the door for you.”

No response.

Stiles rolled his eyes and dug out his phone. Now would be a great time to text Scott an update, or an all-caps rant. Instead, he googled keywords about the FBI op to see if they’d reported anything yet.

They had.

With a heavy heart, Stiles clicked on the headline that read “FBI Uncover Paramilitary Operation in VA”. Quickly, he scanned the text and, much like at a Nicholas Sparks movie, he could have wept by the end. According to the article, the FBI had been pursuing a suspect out of North Carolina and across state lines into Virginia, but had instead found a militia of unknown origin and affiliation (good luck investigating their wolf fetish). The Bureau didn’t believe Derek was part of the militia, and there was no mention of an errant FBI intern having made off with their suspect, though Stiles had doubted they’d easily admit to that. It only said that Derek continued to be a person of interest. That was huge. Stiles hadn’t been with the FBI long but there was a significant importance placed on nomenclature and if they were treating him as a “person of interest”, it meant he’d been officially downgraded from “suspect”. Small mercies.

Stiles was so engrossed in trying to find other sources to make sure that writer hadn’t just paraphrased that he didn’t hear the shower turn off or the door open until it was closed again with a soft click.

So, Derek survived the shower then. Bully for him. Stiles sighed guiltily, then realized with great annoyance that he’d been spending the past half day sighing almost constantly - in relief, in irritation, with pure fatigue. He’d become long-suffering. That thought made him snort, which was a nice change of pace.

The door to the bathroom opened again and there was Derek, leaning against the doorframe, still mostly damp and disheveled. The marks at his wrists and neck were healing quickly, but they were still a garish red against his otherwise pale skin. Otherwise, however, he looked like a brand new person. His skin was free from the dust and dried blood, his hair no long slicked flat with sweat, and his fifth-day-in-a-horror-movie clothes were replaced with the provided soft navy blue henley and dark gray sweatpants.

“Feel better?” Stiles asked pointedly, not able to keep the snit out of his voice.

Derek didn’t react to his attitude, he just nodded and said, “yeah, lots” in such a tone of relief that, just like that, most of Stiles’ irritation faded.

“Good. That’s good.”

Derek tugged on the hem of the shirt with a shadow of a grin. “It fits, this time.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not one of mine so that’s a given, and Wal-Mart doesn’t size things in ‘absolutely ridiculous’ so I just got some extra larges and hoped for the best.”

The smile on Derek’s face moved out of the shadows and inched its way into the bright light. It warmed Stiles and made him feel...squirmy.

“You hungry?” When Derek looked torn between a laugh and crying, he asked, “Were they - Did they even feed you?”

Derek huffed a dark laugh. “Not that I remember. But I don’t...know...how long I was there so I don’t know.”

“About six weeks.”

“Huh,” Derek replied, looking and sounding soul-weary all of a sudden. “Then they probably did at some point or I would have lost a lot more weight.”

Stiles nodded. “Well I’ve got pizza here though it’s gotten pretty cold. But if you haven’t eaten in a while, it would probably be best to start slow.”

Derek shrugged against the door jamb. He made no indications of wanting to sit down so Stiles didn’t offer. Instead, he went back to the duffel on the table and pulled out some honey packets and squeezed by Derek to fill the carafe of the coffee machine at the sink. He dumped the water in the tank and turned it on with an empty filter. When the water had boiled, Derek watched as Stiles emptied some into a mug along with three packets of honey.

“You do realize I’m a wolf, not a deer.”

“You do realize people who’ve been starved for a long time can die if they just jump into a buffet? This is the thing mostly likely to not shock your system if your stomach is too far gone.”

Derek wasn’t convinced and he tried to protest again. “You do realize I’m a werewolf and not a human. I’ve lost maybe ten pounds. They probably had an IV feeding me.”

“That’s not how that works. Your body have been given nutrients but your stomach hasn’t done anything in a long time and it’s gonna need an adjustment period. Can you please just sit your ass down and drink your honey water? If you can manage that, I’ll give you full reign on the pizza.”

Derek finally sat down at the table. The first few mouthfuls were spaced well apart, and by the look on his face, you could have sworn he was drinking mud. When he got tired of trying to force it, Derek just held the warm mug in his hands and sat back.

“How did you find me?”

Stiles smirked. “I told you, magic.”

Derek looked confused.

“I said that on the ride here, you were in and out. But yeah, coincidence and google-fu mostly. Magic.”

“You’re alone,” Derek remarked.

“Yeah,” Stiles admitted. “Not because the others didn’t want to come or anything. I just, haven’t gotten around to involving them yet.”

“Good.”

Stiles couldn’t help but smile at that. So predictable.

“How did you get...involved?” Derek asked.

He could have explained the lead-up - his internship, his classes, his petitioning the instructors to focus on the Hale case - but that wasn’t ready for public consumption yet.

Stiles shrugged. “You know me. Always at the wrong place at the right time.” Whether he accepted that answer at face value or just didn’t feel like pushing, Derek nodded. “Better question is, how the hell did you?” It had been nagging at him for weeks now. The FBI had plenty of information from the time Derek was accused of murder but nothing about what got him to that point in time. And though he’d shoved it to the back of his mind throughout the search and through the op, he found that the question refused to stay dormant any longer. He needed answers. So when Derek shrugged as if he was going to brush the question off too, a spike of annoyance sliced through Stiles.

“No, seriously, what happened? You... evolved , you drove off into the sunset with the girl, supposedly to leave all this shit behind you. Next thing we know, despite not hearing from you in ages, she comes back alone, and then I find you captured and being tortured. Again.”

Derek frowned lightly. “Braeden went back?”

“Who cares!”

The frown stayed in place and was followed by a careless shrug. “We were on the road a bit, but she was chasing down leads on a case so we went our own ways.”

“I know that, we saw her . It’s you who stayed MIA.”

“Just a second ago you were talking like it was a good thing I left.”

“It was!”

“But I was supposed to go back?”

“No,” Stiles insisted vehemently.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Then I don’t know what you’re angry about.”

“I’m not angry,” he said, “I’m just…”

“...disappointed,” they said at the same time, a silly, wry smile growing on both their faces. The tension dissipated and Derek went back to attempting to drink his honey water. But Stiles remained contemplative. Despite his assurance to the contrary, there was an anger roiling inside him but he couldn’t quite tease it apart or name it. There was disappointment, not in the stern way a parent would be disappointed, but not having Derek around...it had been disappointing. He’d run into that feeling so many times around Scott, at school, at the preserve. Any number of things would remind him of Derek - a nice car, a particular shade of blue, someone playing chess, someone with his same initials carved on a library shelf. And each time he’d be struck with a strange...loneliness. But alongside that loneliness had come a sense of peace and contentment, and he’d used that feeling to get through so many of the hard moments in the past years, but now, nothing he did could call it up.

“You were supposed to be safe,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on the dormant coffee machine. “You were supposed to...I don’t know, buy a farm or a ranch or a cabin by the sea. Maybe get a dog or something. A cat. You seem like a weird cat person. I don’t know. But that’s what you were supposed to do.” He could heard himself getting louder but he couldn’t pull himself back. “You were supposed to have a fucking vegetable garden and your biggest problem should have been something like porch repairs! Sock darning! For fuck’s sake, Derek, you were supposed to be okay!”

Derek frowned down at his mug, looking a little shell-shocked. “I didn’t exactly go looking for trouble.”

“You don’t need to, you’re a fucking magnet for it,” Stiles lamented, rubbing his hands over his face. “But that’s not the point.”

“Then what’s the point, Stiles? What do you want to hear?” Derek threw back. “They found me. They always find me. I outran them as long as I could. But it’s never far enough.” And wasn’t that just fucking heartbreaking. “What the hell do you want from me?”

“I want you to be safe .”

“You’ve said that, but it doesn’t seem to be up to me now, does it?” Derek all but yelled, his eyes wide and helplessly angry. “Trust me, I would like nothing better than to kick back in a hammock for a day. I would love to get a fucking cat! I would give up actual years of my life to - fuck - to have a shitty studio apartment in the middle of nowhere where no one knew my name and I wasn’t sure to get maimed at least once a month.” Stiles’ throat was closing around unshed tears, but Derek still wasn’t getting it. “You think I wouldn’t? But I can’t have that. I can’t.”

“Then you come home,” Stiles ground out wobbily, finally looking up to catch Derek’s gaze and jabbing a finger into the tabletop to emphasize his point. “I...if you were out there somewhere, living a peaceful life, then fine. Beacon Hills is literally the mouth of hell, it’s unsafe, it’s a nightmare not all of us survived. But you didn’t escape that, it chased you down, and you were on the run for months and not once did you call. Not once did you come back and ask for help.”

“Is that what this is?” Derek asked tiredly. “You’re pissed I didn’t call for backup?”

“No!” Stiles yelled, throwing himself out of his suddenly too-restrictive chair to stand. “I’m pissed you weren’t ours .”

If Derek hadn’t looked punched out before, he certainly did now.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, pacing and biting on his lips to try to keep the tears of frustration, exhaustion, and grief at bay. “Do you have any idea what the past year has been like? We found out that you can get a were-anything if you really set your mind to it. A douchebag kid from our childhoods came back and infiltrated the pack. You would have hated him. You would have - Oh and I killed a guy. All on my own. Look, ma, no possession!” Derek got up from the table, so Stiles paced in the opposite direction and took the opportunity to wipe a couple traitorous tears away. “And there was that time I was fucking wiped out of existence. Scott, Lydia, my dad forgot me completely. Did you? Hm? Did you wake up one day and suddenl-”

He reached the end of the room and turned back to find Derek not six inches away from him and looking wretched.

“I didn’t,” Derek said with conviction. “I didn’t forget you. Whatever...happened, it didn’t reach this far.”

Stiles bit down on his trembling lips and nods. “It’s been hard.” He huffed a sad laugh. “It’s always been hard. God knows the whole...being possessed thing was no walk in the park. You getting aged down was just... But it was harder, without you. There were so many times I wanted to just walk into the loft and ask you about something, or walk into a fight and see you beside us. So many times I thought, you would have been quicker. You’d have figured things out faster. Fought harder. But you weren’t there and I was so okay with that. Really, I was.” Stiles’ eyes are too wide, pleading with Derek to believe him. “I was okay with that because I thought you’d escaped it all and I wasn’t about to drag you back into the mess of tragedy and chaos that is Beacon Hills. I thought you were free from that nightmare finally. But you weren’t. You weren’t fucking free of it at all. It wasn’t any better out here past the sunset. So why didn’t you come back? To us?”

Stiles had never felt this raw, this exposed - by the end he was speaking in a hushed whisper - but that was the question. The one that had rested in the back of his mind, biding its time, building on any resentment, the implied rejection, the loneliness it could find until now, when it finally had its desired audience. And Stiles felt like shit for even putting it out there. Derek’s eyes were as glassy as his felt. He looked gutted. In the wake of weeks of torture, it was Stiles who was going to break him. Stiles almost wished that he could take the last five minutes back, but that wouldn’t solve anything.

Instead, he closed those scant six inches of distance and wrapped his arms around Derek like he could leech all the pain he’d caused out of him. He expected, after a speech like that, for this to be a very one-sided hug but in a matter of seconds, Derek’s arms were coming up and encircling Stiles, grasping tighter and tighter until they had to breathe in complementary rhythms because there simply wasn’t room for both of them to breathe in together.

“I would have come back if you asked,” Derek murmured into his neck.

“I didn’t want you to,” Stiles replied softly, laying his head down Derek’s shoulder, being mindful of the neck burns. “I wanted you to be-”

“-safe, yeah, I got that part,” Derek finished wryly. A chuckle surprised its way out of Stiles and jostled them apart, but they didn’t go far. Stiles could see a small wet patch on Derek’s shirt, but he knew he had a similar patch on his own shoulder. Neither of them mentioned it. “I wanted that for you too.”

Stiles nodded, smiling gently. “We’re full of great intentions.”

“Not so much at communicating though.”

That got an honest-to-god laugh out of Stiles. “No, that we are not. Where would the fun be in that?”

“In a vegetable patch with a cat, apparently.”

Stiles laughed again and smiled fondly. “God, I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

They stayed in their bubble for a few more comfortable moments, and Stiles thought if he just closed that distance again, he could fall into Derek’s arms and not leave until the sun went down and came back up. But the mission wasn’t over yet, and he didn’t have the luxury of just...giving in. So with a deep breath - one that made him feel lighter than he had in a while - he gestured towards the table.

“You still need to eat something of actual substance,” he reminded them. “You don’t seem in a hurry to upchuck that honey so the pizza might be okay. Or we can order something else now that you’re awake. Salad. Sandwich. Do they deliver steak? Whatever you want.”

Derek interrupted his ramble by taking one of his hands. The touch was uncertain and light, and it sent waves of gentle electricity from Stiles’ palm to his chest. There was no way Derek couldn’t hear the uptick in his heartbeat.

“Stiles,” Derek began, looking equal parts earnest and lost for words. Stiles squeezed around his hand, feeling Derek’s squeeze back immediately. Then, he shook his head lightly and said simply, heartfeltly, “Thank you.”

Stiles ducked his head and smiled. “Anytime,” he said. “Anywhere.”

A reckless promise, maybe, but it was turning out to be his one constant truth in life. And he was okay with that.

[tennesonrhames]

Sea Wolf, Part 7

I don't know how long we'd been running through the forest, but my lungs ached as ragged breath after ragged breath filled them over and over. My legs burned, pain shooting up every single time my feet touched the soft earth. I'd never run so far for so long in all my life, but as I heard the branches cracking somewhere behind me as the beast gave chase I swore I'd run a hundred more miles if it got us to safety. The trees ahead grew dense, and I hoped we'd find some bit of reprieve among them as we carried on. Though I loathed to take my eyes from the path ahead I forced myself to glance aside to see where Nicholas was, finding him side by side as we ran for our very lives. Behind me, somewhere far closer than the creature had any right to be, I could almost hear the salivating growl as though it were right at my ear.

"Keep going Nicholas!"

The command was unnecessary, I don't think either of us had any intention of stopping, but I felt the need to say something if only to drown out the sounds at our back. The beast had leapt clear of the burning mess it left in its wake, and bounded after us before we'd even turned to run. I couldn't fathom how something that size could move so swiftly, but I hoped there would be time to think on that later. Right now the only thing that mattered was getting my boy and me to safety. My eyes flashed back and forth, searching for a way out when I spotted a lamp somewhere in the distance. This far out it was hard to tell exactly where we were, but when I saw the wall of the tiny shack it struck me that we'd crossed into the Kurdin's land when we passed the massive oak what seemed an eternity ago. I'd completely missed the sign posted near the trunk.

"Nicholas the cabin! Go there. Don't stop for anything."

"What about y-"

"Just go!"

I didn't wait to see if he followed my words, but I turned and dug my foot into the earth as my rifle levelled with the monstrosity that was only a hundred yards away. There was a light in the thing's eyes that chilled my blood to the core. Everything in me screamed to run, for a brief second my muscles refused to do what I bid them to, unwilling to do anything but escape until the shot rang out. The sound split my mind from its frozen state and back to reality as I could almost watch the bullet tearing through the air. Whether dumb luck, or the creature not expecting me to turn and fight it didn't veer away. The round tore into the meat just above and to the right of its eye, and I watched the skin tear away in a spray of blood. A harsh yowl pierced the air, and it teetered briefly before darting off to the side. I didn't wait for another moment.

The cabin was barely fifty yards away, and my feet tore the ground up as I summoned another burst of energy from somewhere inside me. If we made it through this I know I'd be sitting in a tub for near a week at least, pruned and lazy as ever. I had to banish that thought, and tell myself it wasn't an if we made it, but that we surely were. Doubt had no place in a moment like this when your own life was at stake. As I grew closer to the cabin, and the lantern that had become a beacon I saw my son standing by the open doorway. Odd, I thought, that he hadn't gone in like I told him. He wasn't holding the door waiting for me, but standings till as he looked within. There was a momentary dread that siezed my thoughts as I felt my boot catch the edge of the wooden deck to join him.

"Nicholas what're you doing, you have to get in.....side....."

And then I saw what he did, and the thought that we might make it away from this was chased away in an instant. It was the Kurdin boys, or rather what was left of them, strewn across the ruins of their cabin. I'd hunted beasts for years, tended to preparing them for a meal, made a clean work of their bodies before, but this was nothing like that. Pieces of them lay scattered around the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling. I felt bile in my throat as I realized that one of them, Jessie, had been torn near in half, one near the door we stood beside and the other against the far wall. I swallowed the want to retch, and took a step inside. My boot landed in something wet, but I did everything I could not to think on it.

"Just...get inside Nicholas, put it out of your thoughts. We need a moment, and I don't know how long that thing's going to stay away."

We moved inside, and for a second I glanced at my son. I wanted to go to him, to take him under my arm and tell him it would be okay. His face was ashen pale, sweat lining every part of his brow, and his hands were shaking uncontrollably. I regretted bringing him here, wished for the first time that I'd let him choose another path. If I hadn't insisted he take up my...I couldn't dwell on that. Steel forced its way in my veins, however false it might really have been and I moved to clap a hand on his shoulder. The startled expression when he felt his body shake knocked his senses clear for a moment.

"We'll be okay. Just...look around th'cabin, try t'find anythin' we can use. Oil lantern we could throw, blades, a heavy rifle. Anythin'. And see if you can't find some water. I don't know 'bout you, but I think I'd even drink out th'horse trough back in town right?"

The smile that touched his face, however faint it might have been, centered the world back into focus for me. It was the greatest thing I'd seen all day, and I kissed the top of that damned hat he'd somehow managed to keep a hold of. As that moment passed we started moving about the gorey scene, fighting the tumbling in our stomaches as we tried to find something that might help us against the, what even was it. It could walk upright like a man, but the creature had the face and claws of a wolf. I'd heard rumors about some sort of thing outside the walls, a curse brought on by that scheming wizard that'd taken up in Shadowfang, but they never got inside. The wall was too tall, and the gates were five feet of solid wood and iron.

"Wolfsbane."

I blinked away my recollection when I heard Nicholas' voice. He was holding a jar with the herb locked inside, one of several arrayed on one of the few shelves still standing. Some of the jars were filled with a paste the color of the petals, but I wondered at that until I saw what Jamie still had clenched in his hand. A hunting knife dabbed in the goo, like he'd tried to make some sort of last stand with it.

"So...'tis some kind's Wolf. Sorry I doubted you son, I wonder if maybe they were gearin' up t'try and kill it, or at least keep it away. Take a bit of it, stow it in your pack, and...coat your knife in th'sludge there. Bane's poisonous to a wolf, so maybe...it'll do somethin' in a pinch."

I regretted the words at once when he looked my way, terror in his eyes that I'd suggest getting so close to the thing. A wave of my hand dismissed it, and I pointed at the jars again to get him moving. I kept going on my search, opening a door to what must have been one of the boy's rooms and what I saw didn't make sense. There were bloody bandages strewn across the floor, and the sheets were soaked in red. Yet there wasn't a body in sight. The air smelled foul, from the bodies in the front room to be sure, but something else seemed off. Like wet fur almost. I neared the bed and saw a note on the nightstand next to another knife, coated in the same goo as Jamie’s. The writing was shaky, and a few drops of blood stained the paper.

"I couldn't do it. I'm sorry. I have to get away. Goodbye."

I felt a light breeze, and peered to an open window. It wouldn't have been so odd save for the markings on either side of the panel. Nail marks dug into the wood, shallow at first, but then deeper towards the outside. Had one of them been pulled out of the window when he tried to run away from the thing? I looked outside, worried I might see the creature when I noticed something even worse. The ground outside was tossed up. Leaves, dirt, and bandages were strewn around the outside, and as I looked farther out I could see what could only be claw marks in the bark of the trees. As I picked up the knife, that was when it all came full circle.

"My god...th'thing is Mik-"

The cabin shook, the floor reverberated, and in the front room I heard the door we'd just come through obliterated in what had to be our time cut short. I moved without thinking, and before I'd even cleared the door back to him I had the rifle up. Three things became clear immediately. The ripped and bloody bandages I hadn't seen before hung from bits of the creature's body, it was turned away and standing between me and Nicholas, and I wouldn't make it to him in time if I didn't act. I saw my boy's eyes turn away from the hulking nightmare that filled the room, catching mine and I felt sorrow.

"No."

The second I saw the razor-sharp claws, still stained red I fired. The lever on my rifle swung as round after round spilled out from the muzzle of the rifle.

"No..."

Another shot.

"NO..."

Another.

"NO!"

And another.

"NOOOOOOOO!!!!"

It jerked with every round fired, and for a moment I thought I'd had it. It's claw paused at the zenith of its strike, and it hobbled over like it might fall. I made the mistake of taking a step forward when it turned suddenly, and the full breadth of its other arm swat me against the wall like I weighed nothing. My back struck the wood, my head hitting it too with a faint crack. My vision blurred, and again I had to fight the urge to revisit my morning meal. My rifle fell, and I had to steady myself against the frame of the door with my elbow. I didn't want to look but then I heard the thunder from Nicholas' rifle and I had to. The wolf-beast turned back around toward him, and somewhere in me I felt pride when I saw the look of determination on his face. Until the last round was spent, and the thing stayed standing despite the blood gushing down its fur.

"Nicholas..."

My voice was so weak from the blow I'd suffered, it was hard to form the word.

"Run."

But it was useless. Again I watched the thing move, and all I could see was its back. But I could hear it. Hear the leather tearing, the stitches ripped apart as its claws did its bloody work. I heard the whimper from my boy, and then I heard myself yelling as I clumsily charged toward the thing that dared hurt my son. I tasted blood in my mouth, could hardly keep a straight path as I stepped through the remains of the other Kurdin boys, knife at the ready when the thing turned. It lunged at me, mouth closing around my arm as we both went sailing back. I felt the window behind me crunch beneath the weight of the two of us, and glass shattered all around me as I went airborn. The thing carried me outside until I felt it crush me against the dirt. Everything hurt, and I screamed as bits of glass that had stuck into my back were driven deeper.

I wanted to shout, to wake up from the nightmare, and find my son outside playing with some of his friends from town. I waited for the feeling of its claws raking into my side, but it never came. The front of me felt warm, and I realized that it was from the blood pouring over me from the beast's neck. In the chaos of its lunge I'd managed to do something right, and sank the knife into its throat, piercing the artery. I shook my hand as it struggled to regain its senses. The knife cut through veins and muscle, the thick hide making it difficult but I wasn't going to let it get away with what it had done. I kept rotating the blade even as its teeth sank deeper into my other arm. I cried out in pain, it whimpered like a dog might, and rolled over trying to shake me free.

The teeth pulled free of me, and then it simply slumped there on its back, me on top of it as I kept stabbing. Again, and again, and again I plunged the knife into its thick neck. When I finally realized that it was dead my arm was numb, and I vaguely remembered getting to my feet. I could feel the blood slipping from the punctures in my arm but I was already moving back towards the cabin. My feet shuffled through the dirt, and blood as I got closer to the ruined doorway.

"Nicholas..."

I made it up, stumbling against the last plank on the steps and slamming my shoulder against one of the edges of the frame.

"Nicho-"

"Papa.."

I'll never forget the way his voice choked on the word. He hadn't called me that since he was little, playing around in the mud and causing a ruckus. The sound broke me out of my stupor, the adrenaline that'd fueled me until now giving me just a single, lingering burst as I went to him. His coat was shredded, bits of leather hanging off him like ribbons in the wind, and his chest was in tatters. It was hard to tell how much of the blood under him was his, and how much was from the others but I could tell he was going to die. His face was so pale and cold as I got to the floor beside him, and set my palm to his brow. His eyes were glossy, and unfocuse when he looked at me.

"Did you, get him?"

My face twisted, but I managed to nod and his lips curled into a weak smile.

"That's g-ood...don't have to...run anymore. Can we go home now? I want to t-tell mom ab-out, our hunt. We got it."

I rubbed my hands against my own coat, wiping away the blood before I brushed some hair off his face. He'd grown it out lately, said he wanted to be like me, but I always gave him a hard time about it.

"We did, y'saved yer old man, Nicholas. Y'did fine work, son."

His arm moved, a hand rising up to touch his chest but I softly batted it away, shaking my head.

"It doesn't hurt, papa. I'll be okay.."

I thought he might try to touch the wound again, forcing myself not to look at it when he pointed at the hat nearby. It'd been knocked off when that vile thing had struck him, and now it stood upside down on the floor, blood soaking into the black leather. A rip had been torn into the brim, but I noticed the inside of it had a slip of paper.

"'fore we go back, th-though, that's for ya, pa. I know ya think it sil-"

I shook my head as my eyes grew cloudy, and I felt a tear running down the side of my cheek. Somewhere in my mind I should have noticed the bleeding in my arm had slowed, and the pain was gone but I couldn't think of anything but him.

"Nah, not at all, Nicholas. 'tis a fine gift, boy, it's right perfect. Y'don't worry bout that none, we'll be gettin' home soon'n'I'll try it on, alright? Just...just hold on a bit longer."

My mind raced, trying to find any chance I could think of. The hopelessness of it all washed over me like a cold blanket, and I felt the weight of it all sinking in when I looked back down at his face. He was so pale, but there was a smile on his lips.

"Glad ya like it...worried ya wouldn't. Happy bir-"

I watched him slip away. Heard the breath leave him, and felt the way his body sagged against me. I brushed my hand against his cheek, slipped his hair back behind his ear and sat there for what felt an eternity.

I'd never cried so much in my life.