#anyway i think its a sign i need to start watching teen wolf

[mispeltnostalgia]

guys help i think that clock app and pinterest are in cahoots cause all i did was save ONE (1) picture of dylan o'brien on pinterest and now every second video i get on tik tok is an edit of him

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Private and Public

Fandom: Teen Wolf Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x reader Word count: 1.4k Summary: People don’t usually realize that you’re in a relationship since you weren’t one for PDA with your boyfriend. It wasn’t that you didn’t like to display affection, it was more the Public part that made you nervous. But one night at a party that might change. Warning: None Requested by Anon: malia x reader or stiles x reader. The reader is like a ('baby gay' for malia) (first relationship for stiles) and is shy/a bit nervous about doing things simple things like hugging or holding hands and they find it cute but also comfort the reader say stuff like its okay, we can take it slow, and kinda just doing things like hugging more often to get them use to it. idk sorry feel free to to change it up and do what you want. Anyway have a good day~ 🦊,🐺or🙃. A/N: so I realize I haven’t uploaded anything at all in over a week, but life’s a bitch so I’m not gonna make empty promises of me starting to upload regularly again. I guess thing’s will be uploaded when they’ll be uploaded. I’m really sorry for all those who look forward to scheduele stuff, but I hope you understand. Lot’s of love, Brina

The red plastic cup in your hand was still filled up to the brim, the only change was the temperature that it had taken on during the hour that you had nursed it without even attempting to take a sip of the gross beer inside. Honestly, you weren‘t all too sure why exactly you had agreed to tag along to the party, neither were you sure why you were even asked to. When Scott had heard of the party a bunch of juniors and seniors had planned to have on a clearing in the woods, he knew it was a recipe for disaster. The pack had tried its best to stop the party from happening altogether, but to no avail, so instead they decided that they‘d come along to keep an eye out for potential danger. Every single pack-member in the appropriate age-group - aka still in school - had shown up, even Brett and Theo had joined in, which meant that any potential danger would have to be careful. Still, you couldn‘t quite understand why you‘d been asked to come along since you were quote-on-quote ‘just a human‘ and were usually kept away from any immediate danger the second it seemed to be in your vicinity. Not today though, today you were basically dragged with them to attend the party no matter if you wanted to be there or not and Lydia had forced you to dress in something other than the nice PJ’s that you had been chilling in earlier that day. “Hey, it’s Y/N, right?” a boy asked as he joined your side. You inspected him for a few seconds until the cogs in your head finally clicked and you realized that he was in your english lit. class. “Mhm, you’re-” you bit your lip and squinted your eyes as you tried your best to recall what his name was, “James?” “Close, it’s Jim,” the boy chuckled and smiled at you. You recognized that smile and even though you had to admit that you were a bit naive, you knew that the boy wasn’t talking to you just for the sake of getting to know you as a friend. Not quite sure what you could do about it, you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. “This party is pretty boring, what?” “Well, it’s a party in the woods in the middle of the week so I doubt there was much possibility for this to be the party of the century,” you shrugged and looked around at all the drunk people who’d definitely regret drinking so much the next morning. “You know,” Jim started and you had a bad feeling you knew where this was going, “We could get out of here, My parents aren’t home, sooo-” he scratched the back of his head and you just couldn’t help but sigh. “Listen Jim, you’re really nice, really, but I’m in a relationship.” “Oh, Ohh, okay, sorry I didn’t mean to...uhm… I just- I never saw you with anyone, I thought you were- I- Uhm- I’ll leave,” he rambled before taking a big sip of the beer he was holding and walking away with his ears tinted red-ish. You gave another sigh and shook your head slightly as you thought his words over. It was true, now that you thought about it, he had no real way of knowing that you weren’t single anymore and even though usually you didn’t mind that thought, suddenly it was somewhat bothering you. You and Stiles had been dating each other for just about a month now, but besides the other pack members and your families no one really knew about it since you weren’t really into PDA. Well, it wasn’t quite that, if you were honest. It was just that this was your first relationship and you were incredibly nervous at everything it included. It wasn’t that you felt uncomfortable with Stiles, it was the exact opposite actually, being with him was the time you felt most at ease, but you were just very anxious that you’d accidentally screw up. Of course, you also feared that your nervousness would annoy him and he’d decide that you were not worth it, but that fear was absolutely rootless since he was the most supportive boyfriend you could imagine. Oftentimes you could see the longing in his eyes when he was looking at you sitting besides him at Lunch and you knew that he just wanted to put his arm around you and give you a kiss, but held himself back for you sake. He also kept on telling you that it was okay and that you didn’t need to do something uncomfortable just to please him, that he was happy with all the cuddles and kisses he got in private and that he was more than ready to take it slow. What he did to help you otherwise was that he tried to get you used to a little bit of physical contact: hand holding in the car, small hugs throughout the day, cute little texts in class and the such. Suddenly, as you were thinking about it, you felt the strong urge to find Stiles and hug him no matter how many people were around and if you didn’t still have the completely full cup in your hand you’d think you could’ve been a little bit tipsy. You looked through the crowd searching for any sign of your boyfriend and the first thing that caught you eyes was the blond locks of a certain scarf-wearing-werewolf glimpsing through a group of junior girls that were giggling about something. With a rush of determination surging through you, you made your way through the masses of teenagers - somehow managing to hand your cup to someone on the way - and ended up only a few feet away from Isaac without having been accidentally punched or stumbling. It was like a scene in a movie when you came closer and recognized a few other pack members standing around Issac and they acted like a curtain that opened up as you got closer and revealed the most incredible boy in the world. If you’d been an outstander and had seen you stop in your tracks with a goofy, love-sick smile on your lips and your eyes almost watering up, you would’ve thought that you were watching a cheap romance movie, but you weren’t an outsider- no, you were you and you were looking at your boyfriend feeling full of love and admiration. Starting to walk again, you were sure to earn a few confused glances as you slid through between Isaac and Allison and more or less launched yourself at Stiles, your arms quickly interlocking around his waist and you face pressed into his chest. Stiles was obviously surprised at the sudden attack as he stumbled a few steps backwards before stabilizing and reciprocating the hug. You were very happy that your pack was so accommodating as they just shared some confused glances before continuing the conversation like nothing happened. “Are you okay?” Stiles leaned down and whispered in your ear, obviously worried by the sudden need for affection. “Mhm,” you nodded and basket in his hug for a few seconds more before looking up at him and smiling, “I just love you a lot and I missed you.” “I drove you here, we saw each other half an hour ago,” Stiles chuckled, but his cheeky smile showed that he was endeared by your sudden clinginess. “That was too long,” you just sighed and wished he would lean down to kiss you, but then your state of adrenalin and bluntness left you and your nervousness returned. Slowly you retracted your arms and went to stand beside him when you saw that the other pack members were looking at you with smiles on their lips. Blood rushed towards your face and your ears and you suddenly felt more embarrassed than you ever thought you would, even though you didn’t regret it. “You want me to bring you home? It’s getting pretty late,” Stiles asked silently but you could read between the lines and thankfully nodded, knowing that you’d probably ask him to come with you inside when you came to your house and cuddle. Because after all, Stiles was the best boyfriend you could ever imagine and if you couldn’t hug him all that much in public, then you’d hug the living health out of him in private.

[allen-desu]

Intrigue: A Canute and Thorfinn Character Study

Canute had learned to do one thing above all else- discern men. It was simple. Either he should be wary of a man or not, and of those he was wary of, who should he make face with.

But then there was Thorfinn..

Very mild Thornute | Vulgar Language | Canon Compliant (Volume 3 specifically) | Spoiler Free

Brushing off my Tumblr to post this somewhere, best read on mobile.

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Canute often found himself studying Thorfinn. In fact he was now, stealing glances of him while riding in a wagon through Wales. His nerves were getting the best of him and not wanting to think of signing a treaty without his father present, Canute instead tried to place Thorfinn to keep his mind occupied. The Prince found him to be a most intriguing character, and one that often eluded any solid characterization. It was egregiously annoying; for you see, growing up in the bloodbath of regal politics, Canute had learned to do one thing above all else- discern men. It was simple. Either he should be wary of a man or not, and of those he was wary of, who should he make face with. Granted, Canute had Ragnar, and therefore he never had to put this skill to a real test for his vassal always fought on his behalf, keeping the young Prince’s best interests in mind. Nevertheless, his cautious observation skills were more often than not proven correct as the time revealed untrustworthy men to Canute.

But then there was Thorfinn. There are always exceptions to any and every rule, but even that logic still couldn’t stick Thorfinn under a neat label inside the Prince’s mind. The boy was not like the men he traveled with. Yes, he did the dirty killing, but he did it in a way that oozed indifference. Thorfinn killed swiftly and acted as if each man was a simple stepping stone to the fight being over, for the killing to be over. While the others he traveled with had a sick enjoyment for the act. Thorfinn did not socialize with the Askeladd’s band. He did not share in their spoils, including that of food and drink. Instead the blond hunted his own food, collected his own water. Only rarely did he ever get what he needed from what was plundered. Those rare instances were either when it was offered to him while marching, or on late and loud evenings, while the rest of Askeladd’s band made themselves merry, Thorfinn would slip some goods from tables abandoned for the night.

So, no, Canute would not label him as part of the band. This conclusion was frustrating, for if Thorfinn was not one of Askeladd’s men, why was he one of Askeladd’s most trusted pawns? Perhaps part of the answer was in the word “pawn” itself, but Askeladd was a cautious man as well. So much so that Canute knew it would bode well for him to try and keep tabs on what the man was thinking. So what was his reasoning to keep Thorfinn- who literally wanted him dead for some unknown reason to the Prince- under his thumb. The young blond was skilled and dangerous to have around. How did Askeladd tame-

Ah.. perhaps that was it.

Thorfinn was like something wild, pacing in its cage and waiting for its chance to do something about its keeper and free itself from its confines. Tamed to compliance, but would still happily bite the hand. Something akin to a wolf perhaps.

Canute looked up from his thoughts over to Thorfinn who was leaning on the opposite side of the wagon, his gaze far off and his eyes hard. Feeling that the Prince was looking at him Thorfinn shot daggers at Canute . Seeing the dirty teen do this with the image of a wolf in his mind nearly tempted Canute to chuckle and he swiftly hid his face from the other in case the temptation won him over. He could hear Thorfinn scoff and that was the end of the whole exchange. A lone wolf in an unfamiliar pack. The young Prince was satisfied with the description for the young warrior.

Canute was no longer satisfied. Thorfinn was his guard and, surprisingly, was taking the job seriously. He seemed not to care, was quick with sharp words at either Canute, Ragnar or Father Willibald. But on more than one occasion, the Prince would catch a small glimpse of Thorfinn nearby, seemingly disinterested, but close enough to come to aid or rescue. Any time he was not lurking and couldn’t be seen or found, a few hours or less after the fact, the shorter blond could be seen emerging from the tree line, a rabbit or more hanging over his shoulder.

In fact, this had just happened and Ragnar had convinced Thorfinn to add the rabbit to the meal he and the Prince were making.

“Highness!” Ragnar had announced upon entry. “We have beans, cabbage and a hare!” As he listed the items, Thorfinn had walked in behind him and closed the door to the cold. Canute was surprised to see him, tensed and annoyed, looking very out of place in the little home they had… procured.

“ A hare?” The Prince asked, ignoring how his own bout of tension was threatening to rise in his shoulders.

“Thorfinn caught it.” Obviously. “We’ll put it in the soup.”

“Well done.” As if Thorfinn needed or wanted praise for a deed he probably found to be child’s play. “Bleed it and skin it so we can wash the meat.” Truth be told, Canute wasn’t expecting for Thorfinn to just comply without some remark, and he surely wasn’t expecting Ragnar to take the rabbit from Thorfinn to do the task instead. It was jarring seeing his caretaker grab the rabbit from him, as if he had just seen Ragnar take a kill from a wild animal. At least that’s what flashed through his mind when the moment started. However, as it happened in real time, Thorfinn let his catch be taken and he was left to simply stand, awkward and unsure.

Canute, stirring the broth in progress mindlessly as he watched on, couldn’t help but consider Thorfinn for a long moment. This boy in front of him was no lone and wild wolf. The moment his gaze was felt, however, the creature came back and Thorfinn found a spot off to the side against the wall that he could sit at and brood.

Once the soup was done and the table was set, Canute and Ragnar somehow coaxed Thorfinn to join them at the table. The tension in the boy’s shoulders was palpable and Canute couldn’t help but take notice of it, trying to further categorize it. When Thorfinn actually acknowledged the meal in front of him, however, his demeanor changed. It was quick, merely a fraction of a second, but the Prince saw it- tried to burn the image into his brain to try and decipher later.

Ragnar’s compliments of the meal they prepared took Canute’s attention and he took this as an opportunity. Agreeing with Ragnar, “The rabbit made it work.” He looked to Thorfinn, “I’m tired of salted meat. You have my thanks.” There was no answer from the shorter blond, he just continued to look at their spread on the table and look lost. Almost as if he didn’t think it was real. The thought threatened to furrow the Prince’s brow. It made him realize yet again, Thorfinn was not amicable with the men he traveled with. When was the last time anyone showed this young man any kindness? When was the last time Thorfinn had the simple pleasure to share a meal with someone at all?

“What’s wrong?” Canute spoke, aiming to pull Thorfinn out of his stupor. “Eat up, you caught the rabbit.”

It seemed to do the trick, for Thorfinn picked up his bowl and spoon and tentatively took a bite. The look on his face, before it was hidden behind matted bangs, was one Canute would very much like to see again. Anger and/or indifference seemed to have a constant monopoly on Thorfinn’s features, but that one, quick moment of.. surprise? Or maybe he was just pleased with the taste of his meal. Either way, the emotion fit his face better, let the ridges between his brows smooth out for a second. Genuine, that was the word. Thorfinn seemed more genuine in that one instant than he did the entirety of the time that Canute had known him thus far.

“Pretty good isn’t it?” Ragnar mused, though the Prince couldn’t quite tell if he had also caught the glimpse of surprise from Thorfinn, or if he was just rearing up to dote and brag on Canute’s cooking talents. “Catch us a deer next, and we’ll really have a meal!”

“...” Not a real reply, but the young guard had acknowledged Ragnar. Thorfinn continued to eat, and almost absentmindedly, “I thought you noble types had everything cooked for you.” It wasn’t a question, a simple statement of thought, but Canute thought he would answer it anyways.

“I enjoy doing it.” The Prince began, “I don’t normally get the chance. Only Ragnar knows that I can cook.” A pause and Canute laid his spoon down in his bowl for a moment. “Do not tell anyone of this.” Thorfinns reply was instant and disinterested.

“Why not?” Followed by, “Who cares?”

Not sure what persuaded him to do so, but Canute began to tell Thorfinn of his father’s, the King, displeasure in the fact that he liked to cook- that it was a frivolous and useless skill to have. Though the shorter blond’s face was as neutral as ever, he did slow in his eating to listen, that alone made Canute feel as he wasn’t wasting his breath, that it was worth having someone other than Ragnar know of how intensely inadequate his father found him to be. Ragnar seemed to be confused at his tellings though. He was obviously not expecting his Highness to share. Giving his Highness an odd look he decided to try and lighten the Prince’s mood, though Canute wasn’t in need of it.

The two of them held their own conversation from there on out, speaking about different dishes Canute could prepare, or what Ragnar could teach him about new dishes he had yet to prepare. The mood in their little borrowed house was light. It was familial in its own way. The young Prince would glance over to Thorfinn every once in a while and was pleased to see that the ever present knot of tension in his shoulders was slowly becoming unraveled. The guard ate and listened.

Something in Thorfinn snapped and Canute shuddered because of it.

What happened in the next instant was too fast for Canute to follow in real time. Thorfinn had gotten up, more like sprung up, and was immediately at the door one of his signature knives pointed at someone’s throat. Had the man had worse reflexes, he would have impaled himself on Thorfinn’s steel. Ragnar was next in the initiative, questioning both Thorfinn and the man on what was going on.

“Agh- I’m on your side Thorfinn!” So it was one of Askeladd’s men. “I’m just bringing a message…” Despite this, it still took a long moment for Thorfinn to remove his knife from the man’s throat. Ragnar took the lead from there and was questioning the newcomer on Canute’s behalf, but Canute himself was still trained on his short bodyguard.

Thorfinn was still tense, still alert and ready to strike, but his initial instinct was slowly recoiling back into its original state. It was interesting to watch the slow movement of his shoulders and back muscles through threadbare clothing. However, Canute’s gaze was felt and Thorfinn shot him a look that could kill. Oddly enough the look from the dirtied blond softened a little, as if he was reminded that Canute was still there and his presence wasn’t something he should be afraid of. The thought struck the Prince as oddly satisfying. He wasn’t able to really dive further into that train of thought, however, for the man brought news of the English advancing on the hideout they had procured. Canute’s shock couldn’t beat out Ragnar’s rage. Heated words about Askeladd and his poor decisions were spoken, and then, just as suddenly as they had come, the man was gone, Ragnar following after him.

The little house was now too still and too quiet until it was broken by Thorfinn huffing through his nose.

“Can’t even manage to close the damn door on their way out.” He muttered, moving to do just that so the winter’s day wouldn’t try and suck any more of the hard earned heat out of the house. With the door closed Thorfinn relocated to his new post beside the door, leaning against the wall. The Prince watched him do this and suddenly Thorfinn was glaring at him again. “Have I fucking done something?” The shorter teen hissed.

“What?” Such an elegant reply, good job Canute. Not that Thorfinn gave two shits about that kind of thing.

“You’ve been staring. Like a lot.” Thorfinn turned to fully face Canute, leaning only one shoulder on the wall. “Still mad, Princess?” A smirk. Of course that’s what he would call him, but Canute realized he was talking about their squabble in the wagons the other day. “I don’t give a rat’s ass who your father is or who’s womb you crawled out of.”

“Still have the vulgar audacity to speak to me like that, but no.” Thorfinn raised a brow at him. “It was more of a shock than anything else. I don’t particularly mind that you speak so blatantly.” No matter how sharp the words, unfortunately. It seemed that the shorter blond did not have a reply for that and instead just refocused his attention to the fire instead. Canute also took this moment to recollect his thoughts. He knew Ragnar was angry, he warned Askeladd about the very problem at hand. Askeladd had paid him no mind at all. Still, the Prince was worried. Ragnar had left in the heat of the moment to a battlefield only to argue with the man leading the defensive charge. Not to mention, his soup would be cold by the time he came back. What a waste.

Perhaps the moments before Ragnar’s return wouldn’t entirely be a waste, though. Not if Canute played his cards right. He wanted to understand Thorfinn. Never before had he met someone that has proven themselves to be so complicated, especially since at first Canute thought him to be a simple brute among other simple brutes. Why was Thorfinn here, why was he in, but yet not considered, part of Askeladd’s band? What happened to him? The short blond hates the man, yet follows him around the country and overseas. He even follows some insane orders with the promise of some kind of reward.

Thorfinn let out an aggravated noise and was suddenly leaning over Canute, hands flat on the table with a bang.

“You’re doing it again. Quit.” The shorter teen growled. Canute blinked owlishly at him. What? Oh, had he been staring again? Nevertheless he continued to study Thorfinn, which was quickly making his guard’s blood boil. Then Canute stood forcing the other teen to stand back a bit and look up at him. He knew that Thorfinn was shorter than him, but it was still amusing to actually see it. Thorfinn carried himself to be larger, more intimidating. Said young guard was now glaring up at Canute through his dirtied bangs. “What?” He hissed.

“You confuse me, Thorfinn.” The Prince replied. Thorfinn also had a fair amount of confusion mixed in with his usual anger, and that fact pleased Canute a bit- at least the feeling was mutual. “I’ve just been trying to figure you out.”

“Well stop.”

“No, I shan’t” Canute replied swiftly. Thorfinn was prone to argue, but nothing came out. The Prince could take a guess as to what he was thinking. That the person in front of him was the same as the shy and bumbling Prince that was showcased and dragged around all of England these past few weeks? Yes and no. There was nothing political in this task, Canute had nothing to fear if he took a misstep. No repercussions. This was a purely selfish motive in which he had no problems pursuing as long as it was kept private. “Also it’s not that I can not, it’s that I will not”

“You…” Thorfinn struggled. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“To you, perhaps not.” This reply really made Thorfinn angry, Canute could see it in the way his whole body tensed, gearing up to fight. Part of him wanted to see if his guard would actually hit him. However, before either of them could think through what they wanted to do next, for some odd reason, Canute had moved and held Thorfinn’s face in his hands. Both teens were now wide eyed and tense. Why did he do that? When did he do that? Just now? A moment ago?

Canute was the first to settle down from the shock of his own actions, and instead of pulling away like he thought he would, the Prince settled into the position. He let his hands feel the warmth of Thorfinn’s jaw and slid down to where his thumbs were still on the other blond’s face, but the rest of his fingers curled delicately around his neck. He knew his hands must have been cold, he was prone to be, but the proof lies in the fact that Thorfinn’s skin puckered into bumps right before he shuddered just slightly.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Thorfinn asked, his voice surprisingly tame. He was definitely still angry and on edge, but thus far it seemed as if Canute was not in danger of being bitten by the wolf that accompanied Thorfinn’s anger.

“Indulging, just let me for a moment.” Canute replied softly, as if trying not to spook Thorfinn away.

“...the hell does that even mean?” The guard muttered in reply. Canute laughed lightly, amused.

“Don’t think on it too hard,Thorfinn.” No reply to that, but the dirtied teen in his hands didn’t pull away either. Good, that was good.

Now that Canute had somehow managed to get them into this situation, he took as much time as he damn well pleased to study the other boy. Not that he was naive enough to believe that staring at Thorfinn would somehow unlock his secrets, but he did think it would help. Thorfinn was a recluse. No one ever got too close to him and he would never let them, so the fact that Canute was quite literally in his personal space seemed like a major victory.

Thorfinn had hard light brown eyes, but if the fire flickered right they were more like unearthed amber or sweet honey. They were nothing like the Prince’s own eyes, a sky blue. The sky may be vast, but Thorfinn’s eyes were deep. What was that saying? The eyes were a window into the soul? Canute could readily believe that looking into Thorfinn’s.

Next Canute took note that, under all the dirt, Thorfinn was tired. He had coloration and lines on his skin that a boy of their age shouldn’t have. Did he ever sleep through the night? His guard was always up late and always up early, always seen at odd hours thinking about something far away... or a time long gone, perhaps? Beyond what dirt and sleepless bruising lay on his skin, was what lacked beneath it. Thorfinn was a genuine threat on the battlefield, how could someone so strong have such gaunt in his cheeks? He knew Thorfinn fended for himself, but from what he has seen, he does a rather good job at it. Granted, he doesn’t eat square meals. Canute thinks that just earlier was the first time he’s seen Thorfinn eat anything green, or not meat related. Still, a soldier's diet of salted meat and wine wouldn’t result in malnutrition. Was malnutrition why he was short? Just… Just how long had Thorfinn been taking care of himself? The men didn’t bat an eye at Thorfinn’s presence. In fact, while marching and the men told old stories, Thorfinn was in a good many of them. Years? Had it been years since Thorfinn had a meal like the one he had today?

“I don’t need your fucking pity.” Thorfinn’s voice startled the Prince. Was he making a face of some kind?

“I didn’t mean..”

“Save your breath, I don’t care.”

Canute thought it was best to not reply, so instead he wiped some dirt off of Thorfinn’s face with one of his thumbs. With a fresh bath, a sturdy brush, and some new clothes, Thorfinn could be considered handsome.

He wondered what Thorfinn was thinking. Was he actually trying to decipher Canute in turn or was he just waiting for the Prince to be done? Canute also wondered, truly, when was the last time Thorfinn was shown kindness? Affection? Perhaps he wasn’t a lone wolf at all, but something lost instead. When one finds themselves abandoned in one way or another, in an unfamiliar place, one must adapt. Did Thorfinn just adapt to killing? Fights because he has to? It was frustrating going through all these thoughts himself, but Canute knew for a fact that Thorfinn would not simply answer any questions that he asked.

Perhaps… Perhaps Canute could be the one to show him kindness? Maybe he could properly tame the wolf that was Thorfinn’s anger, and find the lost person it was protecting. Thorfinn was so hard to get close to though, even today he had been reluctant to simply share his rabbit and then a meal. So what could the Prince do? He thought of this and that, feeling Thorfinn’s pulse through the fingers on his neck. Absentmindedly he rubbed his thumbs in time with it, studying him. Again Thorfinn couldn’t suppress a shiver and again Canute was moving without thinking at all.

He had pressed their lips together. Why? Not even God above would know. Thorfinn’s lips were chapped, still and shocked against the Prince’s own, but he was warm. Unfairly warm and it seeped into Canute. He could stay this way for a long while if he was completely honest with himself, but one kiss was enough. A gesture of both kindness and affection that Thorfinn could seek out from him if he chose to do so if he ever needed to feel wanted. So Canute pulled away, but instead of the awkward moment he was expecting, strong hands pulled him back in at the hips. Thorfinn had leaned back up and continued the kiss.

The taller blond was not expecting this, but then again he was also not expecting to have kissed Thorfinn in the first place either. His pale hands slipped from Thorfinn’s face and neck and instead slid so Canute could rest his arms on his guard’s shoulders. The hands on his hips were most likely bruising him with how tight they held him, but that was part of what he liked about this moment. Thorfinn was holding him and kissing him like this was something he desperately needed. Canute returned its ferocity and leaned in, making Thorfinn crane his neck at an odd angle, and then ran his tongue over the shorter’s lips. Again this was something neither of them were expecting, not experienced enough to really know what they were doing at all to be honest.

However, surprisingly enough, Thorfinn had again let it happen, letting Canute test the waters. So he did. Canute pushed his tongue into the other blond’s mouth. He felt Thorfinn’s tongue with his own, the roof of his mouth and back of his teeth. It was oddly exhilarating, even more so when Thorfinn mimicked Canute and did the same to him.

As Thorfinn kissed him Canute moved them, pivoting them so Thorfinn was between him and the table. The shorter blond grunted when it happened and turned his head out of the kiss to look at their new position, to which the taller blond took as a chance to place kisses to Thorfinn’s jaw and neck.

“Don’t think that I’m just going to bend over like some paid whore.” Thorfinn muttered, his voice was a little deeper, thicker, Canute couldn’t help but like it, but also couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up from him.

“I wasn’t really planning on it.” He mused, resting his head in the crook of Thorfinn’s neck. Canute watched as Thorfinn reached for his low ponytail and played with the strands tentatively. It almost seemed as if he had been wanting to do so for a while but never had gotten the chance to do so until now. Canute kept that nice little thought in mind as he placed more kisses up Thorfinn’s neck, trailing back up to his mouth.

The two of them kissed some more, each exploring at their own paces. Canute also let his hands wander; Thorfinn was all muscle and bone and very thin. The prince knew that one day, if Thorfinn’s disinterest in his own health didn’t kill him first, that he would be properly strong, with healthy muscle, and a fuller face. At least that’s what he hoped for. Thorfinn did not explore the way Canute did, but his grip remained tight and would squeeze him whenever Canute did something he liked. At some point their hands inched a little higher.

The heat between them slowly, so very slowly, faded and they were back where they started, Canute cupping his face. After a few moments that stopped too.

“Did this ever happen?” Thorfinn asked, voice quiet. Canute blinked at him, it wouldn’t bode well for him if Thorfinn ever told anyone of their little venture, but he was honestly surprised that the other cared at all. But more than that, Canute was surprised to see that the anger that was seemingly permanent on Thorfinn’s features was gone. In its place was something the Prince could not identify, but he would burn the image in his brain. Hard eyes were gone, in its place was only honey and a fair amount of color in his cheeks.

Canute decided he would be the one to give Thorfinn the kindness he deserved. Even if it was just in small doses, seemingly meaningless gestures.

“No.” He replied, leaning down to press a kiss to Thorfinn’s cheek. “But it could happen again if you want.”

The shorter blond huffed and made a gesture for Canute to move. He did and Thorfinn moved towards the door. Canute had expected him to leave, but instead he had taken his previous makeshift post at the door. “Whatever, your Highness”

The Prince took his place back at the table, smiling to himself. That response certainly wasn’t a no. He had more thinking to do.

[sirisuorionblack]

Hello 👋 I was wondering if you could write about Remus Lupin bitting one of Harry’s friends, and they’re relatively alright with it but lovely Remus hates himself for it- a bit of angst but with happy ending?

Family

Remus Lupin x Sirius Black

Summary - The marauders are back at Hogwarts at the age of 34 for yet another adventurous night after years but this time it didn't end rather well but Remus had his family.

A/N Okie so this was a wonderful idea and I just had to write it and I might have tweaked my request status a bit. But, anyway, a few things before you start, everybody is alive, no voldy, no nothing. And since you didn’t specify which one of Harry’s friends, I naturally went for Ron to add in the drama. Also, this happens in their third year and Remus and Sirius are well, married, sorry if it isn't a pairing you are comfortable with. And this may be a bit rushed, idk but I loved it tbh.

Remus ran his fingers over the scars on his knuckles. Remus was gifted with such a beautiful life, his friends and family so close to him, leading a life filled with love and happiness, the sound of innocent laughter always echoing in his ears no matter what.

Over the years, he and his best friends had grown from adventurous teens to adventurous adults, still spending every full moon like a tightly-knit pack, running into the woods and barking in their animal forms. They had never grown out of it and Remus was more than grateful for it. It was truly a wonder, regardless of how much they had grown, married and having kids of their own, never spared a thought if any other was in need of help.

Thirty-four. It was bewildering how he managed to pass twenty-seven years tuning into a full-on beast with insane thoughts and no memory of his human self, only noticing the stag, dog and the rat that managed to keep him accompanied no matter what. He pitied the wolf at times, he would never have the chance to know what love is, never understand how people care about others and would protect their loved ones.

Remus knew what love is, Sirius taught him that like his life depended on it. Remus shivered every time he thought about this. They were no longer the playful and traumatized teens, they were adults with responsibilities now and it was terrifying. But Remus found comfort in the very aspect of it, teaching and just as his friends insisted he did become the Defence Against Dark Arts professor and he more than just loved it.

And now after years, they were back in the shrieking shack for the next full moon, this time, honestly dreading it. Remus suspected that Harry and his friends were rather curious about their shenanigans in the shrieking shack. Harry, of course, knew that Remus was a werewolf he had known it ever since he was realised, his father, Moony, Padfoot and Wormtail would go missing for hours and then his mother would be with Uncle Moony, treating all the new scars that Harry was told is a sign of bravery from a young age by his godfather.

For some odd reason, Dumbledore had requested that Harry must not know was that it was his very own Uncle Moony spending his night away in the shrieking shack for which Sirius had reasoned was solely for the drama it ensued.

“Moony, stop fretting,” James said, patting him on the shoulder and pulling him away from the window sill he was standing before, “It is Harry we are talking about, I think he would be rather cautious,”

“That’s the stupidest things you have ever told in your whole life, Prongs,” Sirius commented, smirking and looking out of the window, to see when the full moon rises.

“Hey!” James glared at him, “I mean, yes, he could be a curious little shit but he is…good,”

“This is not about if he is good or not, James,” Remus snapped. He took a deep breath and sat on a chair that had been placed near the wall, away from the three of them.

“Right, sorry,” James said, looking at him apologetically and remained silent giving Remus an opportunity to continue, “Just like you said, he is a curious child and his friends almost give him a run for his money and there is so little chance to no chance that they would not be coming here to “find out“ what’s going on! And like what if I accidentally hurt someone!?”

Remus shuddered as he said those words. Contrasting how he was speaking moments ago, he looked up to see Peter, James and Sirius looking at him and he fixed his eyes to Sirius’ and he whispered, “They could die or even worse become a monster like me,”

“Moony, enough,” Sirius said, calmly, drawing the attention to himself rather than Remus, “The full moon will be in minutes, there is nothing we can do,”

“Remus,” Peter sighed, emerging from the corner he stood in, “First of all - you are not a monster. Second of all - we are here, nothing wrong is gonna happen,”

”What if something does?” Remus argued. He didn’t have to see to know that Sirius closed his eyes to calm himself down.

“Sirius, do you hear yourself!?” Remus stood up abruptly, “Your words drip with irresponsibility!”

“It’s not irresponsibility, Moony,” he said, motioning Peter to take over as he walked towards Remus, “it’s the reality. What do you think we should do, then?”

For once, Remus Lupin was out of ideas. He didn’t know what to say but he knew Sirius was right, there was almost nothing they could do other than control the wolf and every full moon they deal with would be a unique tale of itself, never certain of what could happen. It was woven with time.

“It’s time,” Peter said, grimly. Remus took a shuddering breath and fell into Sirius’ arms, who was still in his human form, unlike the stag and rat, watching their moves carefully.

Remus was right. In the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory, Harry Potter laid wide awake, staring at the ceiling, the noises in the shrieking shack and the tales about it resonating in his mind. He was confused about what might be there and curious to find out when nobody would tell him the truth although they seemed to know. And today, they would unveil it.

James was rather happy that the full moon would end in a couple of minutes but he was not allowed to stay that way when he saw the wolf stop dead in tracks, sniffing the air. They all behaved rather weirdly, sometimes hilarious, in these forms but this time, it seemed different, like the wolf had encountered something out of order.

The stag and the dog stood cautiously, ready to pounce any moment while the rat, discreetly moved in the direction of the wolf’s sight and to a bush. They could hear whispers and murmurs as the animals and humans stood still on both sides, afraid of what might show and for the first time they all saw the wolf stand so extremely still.

And then slowly, a mess of unruly, jet black hair emerged from behind the bush. The wolf took deep, rapid, breaths that almost sounded like growling, bared its fangs.

The black hair further raised until they could see the bright green eyes, behind the round glasses and the wolf noticing the presence of the human, pounced.

The dog was rather quick to act and jumped on the wolf, redirecting its path but a stag and a dog wasn’t enough for the wolf to be distracted from its meal. Hunger in the pit of the wolf’s stomach derived its senses insane.

Harry stood up to his full height, wide eyes watching the wolf push a familiar black dog away from itself and leapt forward, fangs sinking into the flesh before it blacked out, falling to the ground.

He is going to get an earful from his father.

“Careful, Mr Lupin,” Madam Pomfrey rushed to him as Remus tried to sit up and take a look around. She gently pushed him back to a sleeping position on the hospital bed. Through half-lidded eyes, he frantically murmured Sirius’ name over and over again.

“Hey, hey, calm down, love,” Sirius was at his side, holding his scarred hand. Remus held onto it tightly and asked, “What happened?”

He could see Sirius hesitating to tell him and the vague memories remaining in his head from the night was not doing him any better.

“Sirus, please tell me what happened!?” He asked, anxiety rising in the bit of his stomach, the nasty churning feeling retuning. Sirius gently pushed the strands of hair from his forehead and leaned up, pressing his lips to Remus’ forehead.

“Th-the kids-” Sirius started just for him to be interrupted as Remus sat up, abruptly. He didn’t have time to sort out his chaotically, messy feelings and the one thing in his mind was what happened to the kids.

“Moony, Moony,” Sirius hurried to calm him down that, if anything, just made Remus panic even more in his hazy state of mind. Sirius placed his hands against Remus’ shoulder, pushing him gently to sit on the edge of the bed when he tried to stand up.

“Nobody is hurt, Remus,” he said, crouching a bit to look at Remus in the eyes but sighed with a pang in his chest when he saw Remus’ eyes unfocused and roaming above his head, at the various hospital beds.

Remus gasped and his heart sunk to the bottom when he saw the bed surrounded by kids and adults. It was Ron Weasley. His teeth had sunk into the boy’s shoulder blades where he could clearly see the bandages wrapped tightly around. He couldn’t imagine the pain the poor boy would have felt.

Remus Lupin felt like a terrible monster.

Why him? Why is it always him!? Just when he thought everything would be alright when he began to let himself wallow in the joy of being back at Hogwarts. And because of him the boy, merely thirteen, would have to become a monster every month.

“You are awake,” James, who seemed to have been outside the hospital wing, rushed to him, "Oh, thank gods-”

”I told you this would happen,” Remus whispered, hoarsely, staring at the foot of the empty bed before him. His mind was racing with unwanted thoughts. He felt mad at himself, at his friends, at the kids but was immediately engulfed in a pang of even bigger guilt.

A dry sob involuntarily escaped from his lips. He couldn’t understand how Greyback did that to the kids when here he was dying with guilt. He didn’t dare think of that one terrible evening when he was just seven.

Remus struggled to take a deep breath. “Moony, look at me, please,” Sirius said and these words in Remus’ head felt like a command. He slowly raised his head to look into those mesmerising grey eyes, sparkling like they always did in the sunlight. Those grey eyes were the only ones that had the ability to calm him down in seconds yet he found it difficult at the moment to regain his normal breathing pace.

“Hey, it's alright. I am here. We all are right here,” Sirius pushed the strands of hair out of his face as Remus tugged at his own shirt, as though it would help him breathe properly.

Sirius looked at James who immediately moved to the nearest window, pushing it open. The gush of fresh, cold breeze for some reason warmed his shattered heart. Remus, although still shaking, managed to take deep breaths.

“Listen to me, alright?” Sirius said, cautiously and slowly, “Nothing is wrong, everybody is doing good - I said you to just listen, Lupin. Ron did get a few injuries but, thankfully, since it was time for you to transform back, the bite was equivalent to that of a domestic dog or something,”

Remus didn't have the ability to comprehend what he was saying and just gawked, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

Sirius smiled gently, looking at Remus’ wide, confused eyes. “Ron will not transform every month. You didn’t “ruin“ his life, which I am sure at this point you have confirmed. And Madam Pomfrey had down all the necessities so he would be alright in a couple of days,”

“Oh,” Remus breathed, chuckling lightly but happily. Ron was alright. He was alright! He wouldn't turn into a monster every month, he wouldn't have all those hideous scars, he wouldn't be weak every other day, he wouldn't seem to look way older than he actually was. He would be able to lead a peaceful childhood.

James sat next to him while Peter sat on the bed before him, “Now you might be wondering why is Molly crying buckets when her son would be alright,”

“No, I’m not James,” Remus rolled his eyes, pushing James away and shaking his head with a light smile. He discreetly wiped the tears forming in the edge of his eyes.

“Uncle Moony!” Harry yelled, and ran to his uncle. Remus tried to stand up as his nephew rushed into his arms, the boy holding onto him so tightly. Remus slowly wrapped his arms around the boy and felt Sirius stand up behind him, providing support to his weak frame.

“But you should ‘cause I have prepared an answer for it. If you are not asking me why then Padfoot go ahead,” James said and watched with a smirk as Sirius cleared his throat, and asked, “Why?”

”Thank you very much for your certainly not forced question - it is because she is a mother!” James said going jazz hands just for him to be hit with three pillows.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Moony,” Harry whispered into his uncle’s chest, feeling guilty as ever. He heard the man sigh and the arms wrapped around him grew tighter. Remus took off Harry’s askew glasses and whispered, “It’s okay to me, Haz but your mum,”

Harry giggled, burying his face into Remus’ chest, “I love you, Uncle Moony,”

“I love you too, Haz” Remus ruffled the boy’s already messy hair.

"Wait!" Peter said, jumping up and stood beside Harry, smirking, "Can we, I dunno, take points from him?"

"No! that's stupid!" James complained, shaking his head, "Gryffindor needs to win the house cup. We can ground him or something but not take away points,"

"Yes! Can I ground him, please?" Sirius asked.

"No,, absolutely not," Remus said, holding the boy closer to him, "Nobody is gonna ground the poor boy. Leave him alone,"

"Gah! You're no fun, Moony," Peter said, shaking his head in disapproval.

James, after controlling his laughter said, “Also, Harry, your mum told me to yell at you as a favour for her and she would do her job when you come home for break,”

"Uncle W," Harry said, making Peter chuckle at the nickname the boy insisted in calling him saying it was too weird calling his uncle "Wormtail", "I will steal your cheese sticks,"

"No," Peter groaned, dramatically, "Cheese sticks, my weakness,"

“But you won’t yell at me, dad,” Harry said, pulling away from Remus and putting his glasses on.

“I will,” James said, seriously.

“It is not that you won’t, Prongs,” Sirius said, from behind Remus, “It is that you cant,”

“Oh shut up,” James said, rolling his eyes.

Remus couldn’t help but allow his eyes to skip towards Ron every often and harry, of course, noticed it. “Ron is alright, Uncle Moony. He was actually saying it doesn’t hurt much anymore and he was rather bewildered why his mother was crying too. Oh! he also says you guys were so cool yesterday,”

“We know, prongslet, we are the coolest people ever to exist,” Sirius flipped his hair, dramatically. Harry laughed.

Remus took a deep breath. He would never forgive himself for what had happened, but he had his family with him and they sure would make him forget it. These wonderful people were his family.

[amispnrewatch]

SPN 1x06 “Skin”

Okay, I’m gonna try to type while I watch this time instead of forgetting this blog exists until the episode is almost over.

You can tell the footage for the previously on segment was saved on a VHS copy instead of the original film that the show was shot with because even in the HD iTunes version I have it looks low quality as fuck. And jumpy in the way that brings me back to my teens watching the WB all the damn time.

I love this song. WTF is this song. Shazam says “Good Deal” by Mommy and Daddy. I… have no comment, except that it sounds like everything I was listening to in college at the time this shit was airing.

Aaaaand not!Dean turns around to face the SWAT team after obviously torturing some woman. THAT is a cold open.

I wanna know what that car is in the background. It’s pretty. Maybe a convertible Impala? They have similar grills. This is not at all important.

Also, I love that with these higher definition versions of the episodes you can see that Sam’s email is lawboy and whatever dot com and that people in the fandom have started calling him Law Boy. It’s hilarious.

DEAN: Well, what exactly do you tell ‘em? You know, about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doin’?

SAM: I tell ‘em I’m on a road trip with my big brother. I tell ‘em I needed some time off after Jess.

DEAN: Oh, so you lie to ‘em.

SAM: No. I just don’t tell ‘em….everything.

DEAN: Yeah, that’s called lying. I mean, hey, man, I get it, tellin’ the truth is far worse.

SAM: So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life? (DEAN shrugs.) You’re serious?

DEAN: Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period.

Aaaaand now I have Dean and Cassie feelings again and we haven’t even gotten to her episode yet.

SAM: No, man, I know Zack. He’s no killer.

DEAN: Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you.

Aaaaaand now I have Dean and Lee feelings and we’re nowhere near Lee’s episode in season 15.

YOU JUST BLEW THROUGH A STOP SIGN DEAN WTF.

Little Becky. Oi with the reusing of names.

Of course Sam made friends with a bunch of rich kids while he was at college in a desperate attempt to try to be normal.

SAM: You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack’s house.

DEAN: We could.

REBECCA: Why? I mean, what could you do?

SAM: Well, me, not much. But Dean’s a cop. (DEAN laughs.)

DEAN: Detective, actually.

I love that Dean was like “how dare you call me that.”

Okay, after a bit of research, I totally want to take a day trip to Bisbee, Arizona, but it’s already in the 90s here in the desert and it’s not even May so that trip is going to have to wait until… winter or something. There is no way in hell I’m going deeper into the desert when the weather gets hotter.

It’s a historic mining town tourist trap looking place now which is exactly the kind of shit I love.

SAM: Bec, look, I know Zack didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent.

I mean, not technically, technically you would 1) NOT FUCK WITH A MURDER INVESTIGATION YOU’RE NOT LEGALLY INVOLVED IN BECAUSE ANYTHING YOU FIND WOULD BE INADMISSABLE IN COURT 2) find evidence to provide a reasonable doubt for the jury that he did commit the crime. You know, like a lawyer would need to do, Law Boy.

DEAN: I just don’t think this is our kind of problem.

When I made my husband watch this show with me (he’s seen it all at least once now over the years) this is the recurring thing that drove him crazy.

You guys can’t even go in through the back door? Or shut the front door behind you? Really?

REBECCA: (tearfully) Well, there’s no sign of a break-in. They say that Emily let her attacker in.

Yeah, that doesn’t even really mean that she knew her attacker. Just that it was someone she let her guard down around or got in some other way. See: The Son of Sam and Nightstalker, etc.

Love the pinup magnet on the fridge. I’d throw shade at that, but I have a pinup magnet on my fridge too so… pot kettle and all that.

Okay, both people in the next couple are gorgeous.

And oh wow those special effects changing eyes… wow.

This poor couple. I feel so bad for them in this episode.

How… how are the police gonna explain the way he was able to beat himself over the head with a bat??? I…

I love that 5:30 in the morning on TV is clearly like… 10 AM.

Okay, this is a really unrelated point, but the graffiti on the dumpster here reminds me of the Teen Wolf fandoms use of the name Void!Stiles when Stiles Stilinski was possessed by a Nogitsune… I just spent way too long digging through YouTube and my Tumblr tags from back when those episodes were airing looking for a few specific videos and couldn’t find them. The TL;DR reason I bring it up here is goofball, bi-coded main character guy getting possessed by an entity set on destroying the people he loves. SOUNDS LIKE THIS EPISODE AND A WHOLE LOT OF SPN RIGHT. I love that all these monster hunting shows call out to each other.

This scene haunts me years later and I don’t even WATCH Teen Wolf. I just watched the fandom on Tumblr collectively lose it’s shit then tripped down a Hale Pack fanfiction rabbit hole.

ANYWAY

Back to Supernatural, a show that also treated its fan base, cast, and characters like garbage! Huzzah!

DEAN: Well, there’s another way to go—down. (They look down and notice a manhole.)

I’m gonna be mature and ignore the double entendre there…

But I love that Dean thinks of the world in 3D. Which sounds like a dumb statement to make, but this is honestly a good example of that in action.

SAM: I bet this runs right by Zack’s house, too.

Really Sam, sewers run by houses? SO WEIRD. I WOULD HAVE NEVER GUESSED.

DEAN: You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape—maybe it sheds.

SAM: That is sick. (DEAN puts the bloody pile back on the ground.)

Guys, there is a WHOLE ASS EAR in that pile of yuck you’re looking at. I think it’s pretty safe to assume the shapeshifter indeed sheds its skin like a snake. A much… gooier snake.

Sam’s friend is rightfully pissed at him for fucking with the crime scene.

This is before the pearl gripped guns?! Wow. I never noticed that before.

Also, this whole episode gives me feelings.

++++

Cool. Tumblr mobile ate a whole section of my notes on this when it crashed for NO APPARENT REASON. Love that.

It always boggles my mind that actors can trust the people they’re working with enough to let people “tie” ropes around their neck or put them in actually dangerous positions in a scene.

SHAPESHIFTER: He’s sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you?

SAM: Where is my brother? (The shapeshifter leans in close to SAM.)

SHAPESHIFTER: I am your brother. See, deep down, I’m just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak. And sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me. (He backs away.)

SAM: What are you talkin’ about?

SHAPESHIFTER: You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. No explanation, nothin’, just poof. Left me with your sorry ass. But, still, this life? It’s not without its perks. (He laughs.) I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky. You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance. Let’s see what happens. (He smiles and covers SAM with a sheet.)

This exchange is just… so much. So many feelings. And I will forever (unless we magically get a fix-it fic mini season someday…) be SO MAD that none of this got resolved in that pointless, trash heap of a finale.

REBECCA: Okay, so, this thing—it can make itself look like anybody?

SHAPESHIFTER: That’s right. (She chuckles.)

REBECCA: Well, what is it, like a genetic freak? (The shapeshifter laughs.)

SHAPESHIFTER: Maybe. Evolution is about mutation, right? So, maybe this thing was born human but was different. Hideous and hated. Until he learned to become someone else. (REBECCA looks around, uncomfortable. The shapeshifter’s eyes glint silver, and he smiles.)

It always amazes me how much of this show is a pile of accidental queer allegories parading around in an ill-fitting toxic masculinity suit.

Vulcan mind meld! I love nerd!Dean. Also, I’m rewatching Star Trek: TOS with my husband, because that is what my life amounts to these days, rewatching comfort TV and flailing over the bits I love.

This post does a better job than I can do of pairing up screen caps with the dialogue of this next scene. SIX EPISODES IN. They’re dumping all of this character depth SIX EPISODES IN. FUCK THIS SHOW FOR NOT EMBRACING ITSELF.

Okay, I love that he screams back in her face after he threw the phone. It’s not something to laugh at because the situation is horrifying, but I can’t help laughing at it every time.

AND THE WAY THEY CUT THESE SCENES. Going from him winding his hand back to backslap her directly to him dropping the chains on the table to show how hard he must have hit her without actually making the actors hit each other. Good job editing department!

I… don’t understand the shifter’s motivation for killing people. If he can take over people’s identities without killing them, why kill them? Is it just because he’s a homicidal, rapist piece of shit? Cause that’s all it seems like.

How did the SWAT team even know she was being attacked? Why can the snipers aim no better than Storm Troopers?

Ugh, these kind of transformation body horror scenes are exactly why werewolf stories have never really appealed to me much. Like, I could do without watching your ribs move and teeth fall out, dude.

BUT.

THIS FUCKING SCENE.

I looked up the song that’s playing over shapeshifter!Dean being caught by the SWAT team and then going through the grotesque transformation. (And as far as I know, the iTunes version has the original music from the episodes.)

It’s a song called “Mary” by The Death Riders

Who's your mother, who's your mother here boy // Who's your mother, whos your mommy dear // Who's your father, who's your father here boy // Who's your father, who's your daddy dear

Silently screaming // Where everyone knows // Daddy's always watchin' // Where everywhere - everywhere I go

I don't wanna be a freak show pretty boy anymore // I don't wanna be a full time slave // I don't wanna be your midnight cowboy anymore // I just want to be Mary

This is… a fascinating choice. Here are the rest of the lyrics. The song as a whole has a weird incesty kinda vibe to it? Kinda like when SPN tries to straight-wash itself and misses the mark wildly. (Like Dean’s male siren episode.)

The midnight cowboy line reminded me of 12x11 and the bull riding scene with “Broomstick Cowboy” by Bobby Goldsboro playing over it

Dream on, little Broomstick Cowboy, // Dream while you can; // Of big green frogs, // And puppy dogs, // And castles in the sand.

For, all too soon you'll awaken; // Your toys will all be gone. // Your broomstick horse will ride away, // To find another home. // And you'll have grown into a man, // With cowboys of your own. // And then you'll have to go to war, // To try and save your home.

And then you'll have to learn to hate; // You'll have to learn to kill. // It's always been that way, my son; // I guess it always will.

Because, you know, why not add tons of feelings into the lyrics, right?

Props to the people who can embrace their rewatches and reclamations of the show with ease. Because every episode seems to remind me of how hollow and tragic Dean’s ending was and I just… struggle all over again.

Anyway, back to the episode so I can move on with my day.

REPORTER: An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End, where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged. Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home. (A sketch of DEAN appears on the screen.)

DEAN: Man! That’s not even a good picture. (SAM looks around cautiously.)

SAM: It’s good enough. (He walks away.)

DEAN: Man! (He follows SAM.)

(CUT TO: Alley. DEAN and SAM are walking. DEAN steps into a puddle.)

DEAN: Ugh, come on.

I love that we get two tiny little back-to-back vanity moments for Dean here. One commenting on the sketch artist rendition of him being broadcasted on the news and the other tripping in the puddle. There is literally someone running around the city trying to kill people while wearing Dean’s face, but Dean is still concerned with how he looks appears to others. He’s still concerned with keeping up his own performance. The shifter left him with just a t-shirt, so he doesn’t even have his usual comfort layers on and at any moment someone could spot him and call the police or try to kill him for assaulting Sam’s friend. His life is wildly out of control in that moment and the only thing he can try to focus on is his appearance (something semi-controllable) and finding the shifter before any of that other shit can happen.

One day I want to put together a like top 10 episodes focusing on / explaining each TFW character from the series. Like the kind of list you could show someone who’s never seen the show, but has OPINIONS about the characters (or who hasn’t seen the whole show and seen the growth they went through… you know, like the people responsible for the travesty of 15x20). This episode would be on that list. I’m not sure how I could manage to make a list of only 10 episodes to understand Dean Winchester by, but eh.

SAM: What are you gonna do to me?

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, I’m not gonna do anything. Dean will, though.

SAM: They’ll never catch him.

SHAPESHIFTER: Oh, doesn’t matter. Murder in the first of his own brother? He’ll be hunted the rest of his life. (He picks up a sharp knife and examines it.)

Speaking of season 15 in general, this right here. This was Chuck’s villain story arc thesis statement. AND THEY DROPPED THE GODDAMN BALL WITH IT. I think that’s the thing that honestly pisses me off the most these days (about 5 1/2 months from when the finale aired) is that they tried making the whole thing a tragedy but did such an awful job with it that it just ended up like a deflating condom balloon at a dive bar concert. Disappointing and gross. The finale for season 14 set them up SO FUCKING WELL and it just… didn’t get there.

Becky’s parents are gonna be pissed at how torn up their house is after all this shit…

And you’re not shooting him when you first see him strangling Sam because…?????

I like that he took the necklace back. Also, is this kinda Dean death number .5 of the show? Like it wasn’t him but it was also kinda him. Eh.

At least they left the windshield on Baby this time. Reflections are better than tearing her apart.

[babyjeep]

I feel so much second hand embarrassment for the ones who chose to sign on the Teen Wolf Movie. I get it, they needed a check and a bit of relevance again, but this is honestly beyond embarrassing. The most shocking thing though Is that there are people who will want to watch and support the Teen Wolf Movie and its cast after what they have done to Arden Cho

“the teen wolf movie is really trying to turn scott mccall into a pedo wolf, isn't it? scott is older than derek was on the show, and yet he's still hanging around high school teenagers and creeping on them in the locker rooms... what a joke”

(Assuming that second one is your part two, anon) a lot of opinions below… sorry in advance.

I wish they had confirmed actors and contracts before announcing anything publicly! If you followed along with TeenWolfNews as he reported things happening, then you know how alarmingly fast their script seemed to be ready. I didn’t make that post about Tyler in the jersey because I like making fun of teen wolf. It’s the opposite. It’s my comfort show and I love love love Scott McCall. That’s why I’m so worried about what this movie will do to not just his character, but all of them.

A lot of people hate on the later season but at least the characters stayed consistent and recognizable (think game of thrones or that 70s show for the opposite effect). Of course I want more teen wolf content. Of course I want to see where Scott is twelve years post high school. He would be thirty! There are so many interesting stories to tell, especially for a werewolf. Maybe his life isn’t as rosey as he expected it to be because he’s constantly on the run from hunters. Or maybe he and his partner are thinking of starting a family, but they are scared to bring kids into their dangerous world. What I don’t need to see is Scott playing lacrosse or hanging around the high school. If I wanted to see that, I could rewatch the show! This is a classic case of writers not understanding why their fan base likes their content. It’s almost insulting. I don’t want for “hot teen boys playing sports”! I’m here because the characters and their dynamics are absolutely genius. Stiles and Scott are practically opposites with their morals, but they are best friends and THATS why we all watch.

Jeff Davis already screwed Arden over once when he dropped her from the show (without telling her!!!! She made a whole YouTube video about it back in the day. Don’t know if it’s still up). I’m so proud of her for knowing her worth!! Again, if the writers knew their fan base at all, they would know how unhappy we were with Kira’s ending and they would have taken the movie opportunity to fix it! Arden should have been a main character of the movie and offered as much. Hell, if I was in that writers room, the whole movie would have been centered around her!

I don’t think the actors are doing this for relevance or a paycheck though. It’s the Teen Wolf movie. Only people who were already fans of Teen Wolf are going to watch. This doesn’t expand their platforms or portfolios in anyway, ya know? It seems like they are having a good time on set. The common narrative seems to always be that Tyler Posey can’t find work. . But he’s done a lot of small roles since leaving the show?? Especially they past few years (and voice acting too!) So I have no idea where the “they need a pay check” thing came from.

The real enemy is Jeff Davis who is probably only doing this movie to get attention for his new werewolf pases teen show that has nothing to do with Teen Wolf.

[daughterofluthien]

Fictober - Day 10

Prompt number: 10. “all I ever wanted” Fandom: Teen Wolf Rating: T Characters/Relationships: Tamora Monroe, Scott McCall Word Count: 3728 Warnings/Tags: canon-typical violence A/N: Three years after the battle for Beacon Hills, Monroe calls a second peace summit. It doesn’t go the way she anticipated.

The moon hung low and large in the sky; it seemed to shine more brilliantly than it ever had in the past. Tamora glanced up at it briefly and hoped she wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

Mistake or not, the decision had already been made and she had a responsibility to follow through. She adjusted the strap on her rifle, relieving the uncomfortable pressure on her shoulder; she wasn’t sure that she'd ever get used to carrying a weapon for long periods of time.

Part of her — the part that had a bachelor’s degree in education and a masters in counseling, both pursued immediately after the preceding graduation — still wished that the weapons weren’t strictly necessary. But the past few years had taught her that the world was more complicated than it appeared in textbooks. 

When your opponents had access to claws and fangs as a standard part of their anatomy, arming yourself was just leveling the playing field. 

She glanced back at the five equally armed men and women behind her, all of whom she assumed were in a similar state of unease, and distracted herself by running through plans and contingencies. Tonight’s plan was… bold. To say the least. 

But with the growing public outcry against her organization—not to mention raids by the likes of the ATF and FBI, which resulted in multiple arrests and the confiscation of several caches of weapons—she needed bold. She needed decisive. And above all, she needed something that would solidify the need for the cause in the hearts and minds of the others.

While she was glad that many of the men and women who followed her had not been personally affected by the devastation that was so often left in the wake of the supernatural, many of them were unaware how dangerous these individuals truly were. If she wanted them to remain committed, then they needed to understand personally.

Of course, it didn’t help that so few of the skirmishes between the two sides actually ended in casualties.

There were exceptions to this, of course—poorly planned out attacks on whole packs that could only ever end in a bloodbath. And as expected, the survivors of those assaults returned to her, or to the leaders of their own cells, with a renewed fervor for the cause. If they managed to escape alive, they understood the importance of the fight.

But for every event of that type, there were at least two others where the only reason a fight occurred was because one or two werewolves showed up to protect one of their own. And in those cases, they almost never pressed the advantage. Survivors of those incidents returned confused as to why they were even alive.

She remembered speaking to one such survivor as he cleaned and bandaged a shallow slash on his shoulder. She had placed a hand on his shoulder, and told him that he was lucky to be alive. That it was a testament to his bravery.

The man shook his head and stared pensively off into the middle distance. She wondered what he was seeing in his mind.

When he finally found his voice, he spoke slowly and thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think so… He yanked the gun out of my hand. Threw me to the ground. But the power behind it—” He shook his head again, and returned to winding the bandage around his shoulder. “He could’ve me. Easily. But he left me alive.”

“Because he was afraid. Because he knows how strong we are, and what we would do if one of us was killed.” 

“Nah, he wasn’t afraid.” The bandage complete, he pulled his shirt back on, and winced as he moved his arm experimentally. “I’ve seen men afraid. Seen those things afraid, too—hell, that kid you sent me after tonight? She was terrified.” He glanced up at her, a dark look in his eye. “How old was she, anyways? The kid?”

Tamora fixed him with a look. “You know as well as I do that age doesn’t matter. As soon as their abilities manifest, they’re a danger—to us, and to the rest of the human population.”

“How old?”

She didn’t look away. “Seventeen, I believe.”

The man snorted, but didn’t answer. He shook off her hand and stood up.

She allowed her voice to harden. “So I take it the mission was a failure?”

“All he wanted was the kid, and he got her. Far as I know, they’re both still alive.” He picked up a bag with his gear and turned to leave. “Can’t say I’m crying about it, either.” 

Tamora didn’t go after him then. She didn’t try to change his mind, because to do so would be to show weakness. 

He wasn’t the first or the last to leave with a similar story.

And to make matters worse, at the same time that her organization was hemorrhaging followers, certain elements of the supernatural were rapidly gaining support worldwide. 

The first time she encountered an individual with the McCall Pack tattoo, the others who were with her at the time laughed, joking that the creatures were finally painting targets on themselves, and that it would be rude not to oblige. 

The laughing stopped when the symbol started showing up on graffiti and in signatures on message boards. These days, anyone who knew anything about the supernatural knew what the two concentric circles meant, even if they’d never heard the name Scott McCall. 

It stood for something. Something that people believed in. Something that they wanted to follow—not out of fear—but out of loyalty and conviction.

In the face of that, Tamora was starting to wonder if she stood for anything at all.

Which, she reminded herself, was the reason they were here tonight. The individuals following behind her were some of the most influential members of her organization, all leaders of multiple cells around the world, she needed to make a point to them.

And if she needed to prove it to herself as well, then that was all right too. After all, she had learned in her classes that even counselors need therapy, from time to time. There was no shame in having doubts. 

Shame came in acting on them. 

She had poured everything that she had—everything she was—into this mission. This cause. And she refused to let it all be in vain. 

The last three years meant something. They needed to mean something. And if she needed to take drastic action to remind herself of that, then so be it. 

After all, she had started the stage of her life with drastic action. Before that night, she had never acted violently toward anyone. Had never even touched a weapon. But she had the courage to act when it mattered, and defend herself against the monsters that roamed freely in this world. 

She remembered being terrified, that night. Her grip hadn’t been tight enough, and she nearly dropped the gun when it recoiled in her hands. 

But she had fired the gun. She had taken action. And from that moment on, she wasn’t just a victim. The sort of person that sat passively by while people who didn’t really care patted her hand and said things like ‘you’re lucky to be alive’ or ‘at least you’re safe now.’ The traumatized final girl in a slasher movie.

She had agency now. The power to control her own narrative. And not only that, she was in a position to empower others as well. 

Fear destroys a person, and no one deserved to be afraid. No one deserved to be forgotten.

Together, they could change the world. And when they were done, no one would be.

But she had been fighting for the cause for three years, and the people she led had forgotten what it meant to be truly afraid. 

Tonight, she would show them. She would break down the lies and empty legends. She would remind them of the difference between what is human and what is not.

She just hoped enough of them survived to tell the story. ________________________

Despite the guns and other gear, their small procession moved quickly, and arrived at the set meeting place ahead of schedule. Tamora checked her watch when they arrived.

12:13 AM. They were early, which was fine by her. She ordered the two most nervous looking men to scout the perimeter. Not because she truly expected an ambush, but because she knew they needed something to distract them.

She glanced up at the moon a second time. It was the largest she had ever seen it—which might generally not mean much, as she had only really paid attention to the moon these past three years—but tonight she trusted her senses. She had planned, had done her research, and she knew that tonight wasn’t just any full moon.

Tonight was the second in a sequence of three consecutive supermoons. 

Tonight, the moon would travel closer to the earth than it had in years. And at 12:44 AM precisely, it would be at its highest point in the sky. 

Werewolves were, first and foremost, creatures constrained by their nature. Even an Alpha would be unable to remain in control under that sort of pull.

Even Scott McCall.

She shivered against fall wind, and pushed away the thought that the shiver might be due to nerves, rather than the cold. She wasn’t afraid of dying, and she knew this time she wouldn’t be forgotten. If she was killed, her sacrifice would mean something.

This was the right thing to do. 

“There’s someone coming!” The man behind her meant it to be a whisper, but it was harsh and loud. And if it was loud to her, she could only imagine what any werewolves in the vicinity heard.

She knew she was being watched, so she didn’t roll her eyes. Instead, she schooled her features, let them settle into a cool, practiced mask, and smiled. “They’re here.”

She heard a chorus of clicks behind her, as her companions raised their weapons. Multiple lights scanned the field in front of her, revealing half a dozen or so figures approaching. As the flashlight beams passed over the little group, she noticed the reflected eyeshine in a little over half of the members—a sure sign that the individual in question was a non-human. 

She wondered briefly if the others were human. She knew that some packs—including the McCall pack—accepted humans among their ranks, but she never understood why a human would agree to join one. Supernatural creatures shared an instinctual connection to each other that humans could fundamentally never truly share. A human who ran with wolves could only ever be trod on and forgotten. 

The individual at the head of the approaching pack turned to speak to his companions. After a short discussion, he approached alone.

She did not move—he could come to her.

Tamora hadn’t seen Scott McCall in person since that night in Beacon Hills High, over three years ago, and she realized that she barely remembered him. All she remembered was the fear.

And at the time, she had reason to be afraid. Gerard Argent had told her who he was, explained that he was the most powerful werewolf in Beacon Hills. That he had others who were loyal to him and would fight on his behalf. She had only met him a handful of times, but the idea of him had terrified her.

But Beacon Hills was in the past, three long years and hundreds of miles away, and she hadn’t felt that sort of fear in a long time. 

Face to face with the Alpha for the first time since the night she fired a bullet at his heart, she realized that she wasn’t afraid. At least, not in the way she had been back then—that sort of all-encompassing, fight or flight sort of fear. 

She had chosen to fight, and it had been instinctual. Because in the end, all creatures are slaves to instinct. 

A quick glance at her watch told Tamora that it was 12:35. It wouldn’t be long now.

She looked back up at McCall as he squinted in the harsh light of the multiple flashlight beams that had suddenly been trained on him, and for a moment, he looked young. Like one of the kids that she visited colleges to recruit. The ones who were so full of pent-up rage at the world, and were desperately looking for guidance and direction.

Except she didn’t see any rage in McCall. There was power in his stance, yes, but beyond that she only saw quiet confidence, mixed with a wary but surprisingly open curiosity.

He broke the silence first. “You’re the one who wanted to meet. But if you have a way that all of this can end—” he glanced behind her and she assumed the guns were now being pointed at him “—then I’m willing to listen.”

She allowed herself a soft smile. “I won’t apologize for the precautions, Scott.” She glanced up pointedly at the moon, which hung above them, unobscured by cloud cover. “I’m afraid we’re all aware of what exactly a night like tonight can mean for someone like yourself.”

He nodded, but didn’t follow her gaze. When she met his eyes again, she saw sympathy, along with another emotion she couldn’t name. It was gone a second later, leaving only the sympathy behind. “Yeah, I am. But you don’t have to be afraid.”

“Fear is a natural response to the unknown. Are you trying to tell me that the ordinary people of this world, they don’t have the right to be afraid?”

His response was immediate. “No, of course they do. The existence of the supernatural— It would terrify anyone. And trust me, I get that.”

It wasn’t the response she expected, and she scoffed. “What could you possibly know about fear?”

“More than you think.” He paused, like he was trying to figure out the correct direction to take the conversation. “Actually, all werewolves do.”

She didn’t quite know what he meant by that, though she supposed that all creatures felt fear. But the content of tonight’s conversation wasn’t important, and all that mattered was that she drew it out as long as possible, so she asked for clarification. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

He considered. “Three months ago there was a kid, sixteen years old. You met him in LA.”

She remembered. “The Omega.” McCall’s face hardened at the term, but he didn’t say anything. “It was a full moon, and he was half-feral to begin with. I was defending myself.”

That night had been an abject failure of the worst kind—not only had they lost their quarry, but one of her best men had been killed in the process. It had also marked the beginning of the string of failures that had eventually led her here.

McCall shook his head. “He was terrified. The moon—” He cut himself off, casting about for the correct words. “It gives us power, yes. But it doesn’t cause the aggression. All it does is amplify what’s already there.”

“Then your kind is dangerous by nature. You’re just good at hiding it the rest of the month.”

“Except it doesn’t amplify aggression. Or, at least, not just aggression. It’s everything you feel—happiness, anger, love. Fear.” He raised his eyebrows slightly and held her gaze. “The boy you tried to kill that night, Alec? He was terrified, and not just of you.”

She wondered what McCall hoped to accomplish by bringing up that particular event. If he meant for her to feel guilt about it, then he was sorely mistaken. 

She and her men had been in Los Angeles to hunt an Alpha; they eventually managed to corner him, but not before he had attacked and bitten a young bystander. Once the werewolf was dead, she told the boy the truth—that he would either die, or she would return the next day to kill him.

Though of course, the young werewolf wasn’t even dead—last she heard, he had joined McCall’s apparently ever-expanding pack.

At any rate, her conscience was clear. “He had already been bitten when I found him. You and I both know how that ends.”

He shook his head. “The night you found him, he was attacked. And for some reason that he didn’t fully understand, he survived. But he was dragged forcibly into a dangerous world, one that he knew nothing about, and when someone did show up? They weren’t there to rescue him.” He paused, as if to make sure she was listening, and raised his eyebrows. “I think maybe you know something about that sort of fear.”

She didn’t want to think about cowering, huddled beside the still-warm corpse of a co-worker. About squeezing her eyes shut and praying desperately to a god she didn’t really believe existed.

Tamora eventually shoved the thoughts away, and reminded herself all she really needed to do was keep him talking, and the moon would do the rest soon enough. It didn’t pay to let herself be distracted.

It still took her longer than she wanted to respond, but to her relief, her voice remained even. “If you’re trying to elicit some sort of sympathy from me—”

“I just want you to understand—”

“We’re long past understanding.” She felt her anger surging, and she wasn’t sure if she cared about staying emotionally detached anymore. “And don’t you dare compare your kind to mine, when something that’s a common part of the natural world turns you into a monster!”

He took a step closer, likely about to make yet another impassioned plea for inherent humanity of the inhuman. Or rather, he started to step closer. He stopped suddenly instead, eyes darting to stare at a point over her right shoulder. 

She turned to follow his gaze, hand already drifting to her gun at the sudden, serious intent in his eyes. As she did so, several things happened in quick succession:

McCall yelled something she didn’t have time to process, though she thought she heard her name.

The sharp, deafening report of automatic gunfire split the air. Short burst, over as soon as it started.

Not part of the plan. 

She turned to yell at whoever had been stupid enough to pull the trigger before it was time. “Hold your fire, goddamn—”

Her right shoulder burned with a new, intense pain. 

Her hand flew up to grip the offending area, and she swayed on her feet. 

The pain swelled and her vision grayed, and when the world came back into focus she was on the ground.

As far as she could tell, no time had passed. She hadn’t been unconscious. She tried to push herself up into a sitting position, but her shoulder burned like it was on fire, and each movement sent a new wave of pain coursing through her.

McCall looked over his shoulder at his pack and shook his head, then was at her side before any of her men could reach her. All she could see was the moon, and for one brief, frozen second, she was sure this was the moment. McCall would tear out her throat, and the world would finally see him and his pack for the monsters they truly were.

She had hoped that she would live to see it. But if this was how it had to end, then it was worth it.

The blow never came.

She heard footsteps running up behind her, and she tried once again to prop herself up into a sitting position, this time successfully. The expected wave of pain never came. She noted with confusion that McCall’s hand was on hers—she pulled her own away, fixing him with a glare.

Then she noticed black veins slowly receding into his hand and arm, and she froze. Her sudden lack of pain made sense now.

But it was the only thing that did.

The others reached her now, and she looked up to see six guns pointed directly at McCall, who glared back at them.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” This was from one of the men she had only just recently met. Everyone else seemed too wary, too afraid to make a move.

McCall raised his hands slowly, eyes not leaving the face of the man that spoke. He opened his mouth to speak, but Tamora spoke first.

“He took my pain.”

The man looked skeptical. “And why would he ever do that.”

She looked back at McCall and shook her head slowly. “I don’t know.”

After that, everything was almost shockingly mundane. She sent someone to go get the medical kit, and Deanne—one of the cell leaders that she had the most contact with over the past few months��began to bandage her shoulder.

McCall stood to leave, but Tamora stopped him. “I don’t understand.”

He paused, then turned back. And when he spoke, she knew it was words he had considered carefully. “We don’t have to act out of fear. We always have a choice, and there’s always a better way. All I ever wanted was for you to see that.”

He returned to his waiting pack, and she checked her watch. 1:04 AM. The moon had passed its meridian and had already begun to set.

She closed her eyes.

It was supposed to be her moment of victory—a violent object lesson that would prove the accuracy of her beliefs beyond a shadow of a doubt. Instead, the moment came and went. And she didn’t even notice.

McCall hadn’t become aggressive or angry, or had even looked like he was fighting it. Instead, all he had been was kind. 

She planned for tonight to be the great unmasking—the moment when she tore back the curtain of civility and revealed the monsters to the world. If she had proved that even the great True Alpha Scott McCall was little more than a feral beast, then humans around the world would’ve rallied to her cause.

But she hadn’t. And maybe—

Maybe he wasn’t.

Maybe he never had been.

It was treacherous thought, and she betrayed herself by thinking it. Her shoulder throbbed dully, though it was still nowhere near the earlier waves of pain

For the first time in years, she wasn’t entirely certain what to do next.

[cottage-babe]

Burning Scars part VIII

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Masterlist

Awww im watching LOK and why do people hate it so much?? I get that its different than ATLA but on it’s own its pretty good. anyways they just talked abt the first avatar and hmm, i didn’t really think abt who the first would be

Summary: Y/n, a werewolf from a hidden village, comes across Zuko and Iroh after being exiled. How has fate intertwined the wolf into the avatar’s destiny?

*****This chapter takes place on Season 2, Episode 14*****

___

It's been a week since they'd made it to the beloved city of Ba Sing Se. 

It was rough at first; they learned about the sections of the city and had to find a home in the Lower Ring. Although Zuko hated the city, Y/n found it quite beautiful. Of course, some parts of it weren't flattering, there were dirty animals around and some of their neighbors weren't the nicest, but there was something mystical about it. 

Maybe it's because it's the first city she'd been in or the fact that the culture was so different, but she couldn't find it in herself to hate anything in Ba Sing Se. The crowded streets just seemed cozier and full of life; their run-down home above a shop just had personality! The wolf couldn't help but love even the worst parts. 

The only thing that couldn't ease itself out of Y/n's mind was the feeling of being watched. It sent shivers down her spine whenever she was out in public and she thinks she knows why they're staring. 

It's the scar on her leg, of course. 

She stopped covering it up the day they came to the city. Something about having to hide it for their entire time of residence just seemed so inauthentic. If she was going to be here for a while, then Y/n was going to be her truest self, scars and all. 

They were walking through the marketplace, buying the last remaining essentials that they needed for their new place. Iroh had wandered off somewhere when his eyes set on a furniture store, but Zuko, not wanting to accept the fact that they were actually living there, just stormed off angrily in the opposite direction. Y/n followed the teen to make sure he didn't do something he’d regret. 

“You know,” the wolf began, “this city isn’t that bad when you stop judging everything about it.”

He glared at her harshly. “I’m not judging it.” Then, Iroh appeared next to him, the pot of orange flowers he was eyeing in his hands. The boy’s stare somehow got meaner as he looked at the bright flowers. “This city is a prison.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and moved to stand in between her two friends, smelling the ends of the flowers and letting the aroma surround her. There was hardly any nature here, another thing that she had to look past, so seeing any sign of greenery was welcoming. 

“They’re so pretty!” Y/n smiled at Iroh. 

“I know,” the uncle smiled back at her, “they were a little expensive, but its fine because I found us new jobs, and we start this afternoon!”

Zuko and Y/n blinked at him in surprise. Neither teens had ever had a job before, much less one that they were thrown into without a warning. So they all traveled back to their apartment and left the things that they had bought that morning. The time to go to their new ‘jobs’ was approaching, so they made themselves presentable and set off. 

Iroh had, of course, gotten them a job at a small tea shop. When they entered, it was nearly empty, except for the man that introduced himself as their boss. 

The people in Ba Sing Se probably only drink their tea in the mornings! That must be why it’s so empty!

It turns out she was wrong. 

After doing their introductions, the owner, whose name turned out to be Pao, left to the back room so he could find a string to extend the back of Iroh’s apron. He left them three cups of tea while they waited. 

Y/n took a sip from her steaming cup, happy to be offered some tea that’s actually warm. Unfortunately, just as it had happened before, the tea was spit out onto the floor. 

“Ugh!” She exclaimed. “What’s wrong with all of the tea in this city!”

Iroh took a sip, but, with way more control than her, swallowed it quickly. He looked at his cup disgustingly. “This tea is nothing more than hot leaf juice!”

Zuko deadpanned and looked between the two, “Uncle, that’s what all tea is.”

Suddenly, right there in the moment, a long shiver reached Y/n’s spine and spread throughout her body. And it definitely wasn’t the tea. The werewolf tugged on Zuko’s sleeve.

“Someone’s watching us.” She whispered and cast her eyes around. 

She had been feeling this, how could she be so stupid? She misjudged it and thought the attention was on her leg, but now? They were in a completely empty shop and she could hear Pao digging through boxes in the other room. Someone is looking at them from the outside. 

The boy looked around cautiously as well. “From where?” 

“I don’t know.”

Iroh was talking while they whispered, something about needing to make some major changes in this shop. He threw the tea pot out a window and the feeling drained from the wolf. Y/n sighed in relief.

“They stopped, maybe it was just someone passing.”

Zuko hummed, but still looked at her curiously. 

Pao came back with the string and helped Iroh tie his apron on. Once all three of them were in their attire, the man trained them on their new job; waiters and waitresses. They learned the basics of their job; collect orders, give customers their cups, then collect the cups. It was a lot simpler than she thought it would be. They barely had any customers, but the few that did come sat quietly and didn’t really disturb them. 

Then, their shifts ended and they turned in their aprons. When they left the shop, the sun had already set and the sky was dark.

The citizens had lit lanterns to glow on the street. It was quite pretty to see the contrasts; it almost reminded her of the rebellious times with her siblings. Y/n pushed that thought out of her head, though. 

The entire walk back home was filled with Iroh’s complaints on the tea. He started talking about how starting tomorrow, he was going to tell Pao that he was going to make the tea. He thought that Pao’s tea was lacking and Iroh was going to fix that. Zuko let out a few sarcastic comments here and there, but Y/n was quiet. She was focused on the roof tops, the dark alleys; any place where someone could be hiding. Just in case, of course.

Then, they made it home. The apartment was empty and Iroh lit candles with matches so they could see. He probably would’ve used his bending, but Zuko had warned him many times against using it. The boy was so paranoid. 

As soon as Y/n entered though, she smelled something off. 

She never mentioned this to the boys (in fear that it would freak them out), but the wolf had memorized their scents. Each had a distinct smell and it had grown very mixed and strong throughout their week of living here. It was another werewolf thing that transferred to her human skin. 

But what she was smelling now definitely wasn’t one of them. 

It smelled strangely familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. The scent was so minute and faint that it eventually blended away into the other smells. 

Well, that’s weird.

So they all settled down to relax, tired from the day’s work. Y/n laid on the bed by the windows and Iroh went straight for the teapot.

“Would you both like a cup of tea?” 

“We’ve been working in a tea shop all day!” Zuko groaned out. “I’m sick of tea!” 

Y/n laughed at his antics and watched as the boy sat at the foot of the bed. This wasn’t her bed; the boys decided that the one room in the apartment should belong to the only girl. She wasn’t totally against getting her own privacy, but she still felt incredibly spoiled. 

Zuko lifted her feet and moved back against the wall, placing her legs in his lap. The werewolf blushed at his intimate touches, but just looked off at Iroh and stated that she would like a cup, just to try and ignore her feelings. Y/n had decided before that she would never fall for Zuko, ever. 

“Sick of tea? That’s like being sick of breathing!” Iroh looked over at the two and smiled softly before searching through the cabinets. “Have you seen the spark rocks to heat up the water?” 

Y/n shook her head. “No. Do you want me to go ask the neighbors for some?”

She almost began to stand up, but the old man quickly declined her offer. 

“No, no. You stay there.” He smiled, “I’ll go ask.”

Iroh walked out the front door, leaving Y/n and Zuko alone. They were silent for a moment before, surprisingly, the boy broke it.

“So,” he began. “What was up with earlier?”

She knew what he was talking about; how she could sense that someone was watching them. She didn’t really have much of an answer, so she tried to explain it the best she could. 

“I don’t know... it’s just a feeling I get sometimes. Most of the time it’s just random people looking for no reason, so I ignore it. But it felt a little different today; it was weird.”

Zuko nodded and started playing with the fabric of her socks. The light touches tickled her slightly. 

“Can you always feel it? When someone’s looking at you, I mean.”

“Well yeah,” she spoke. “But it’s feels different when I’m in danger or when it’s about nothing. I don’t know how to describe it; it’s just a werewolf thing.” 

Y/n covered her eyes with her arm, hoping to cover her warm face slightly. The pink in her cheeks never seemed to disappear when he sat next to her. 

His fingers stopped moving and she was so so thankful for that. The poor girl didn’t know how much she could take. 

“And now?” Zuko whispered, “What does it feel like now?”

Y/n removed the arm from her face and met his auburn eyes, the iris’s staring deep into her.

Spirits, how was she supposed to describe this feeling? 

Everything about Y/n, her hearing, her smelling, her brain, it was all muddle with him. Was this danger she felt? Or something else? Her senses didn’t seem to work; the scent of him just overcame ever-.

“I borrowed from our neighbors!” Iroh happily spoke as he waltzed into the room. “Such kind people!”

Y/n cleared her throat and sat up, removing her feet from the boy’s lap. She almost shook her head to wipe the fogginess from her brain. Iroh looked between the two teens, wondering if he should say something, but instead turned toward the wood under the teapot and used the rocks to light it. 

Y/n and Zuko didn’t talk much more that night.

During the next few days, they set out to work in the early afternoon and made it back by nightfall, when the shop closed. Iroh had taken over the tea making; something Pao had fought against until he tasted the uncle’s delicious cup of tea. Slowly, more and more people started to fill up the tables, just waiting for the notorious cup. Y/n didn’t mind. It only meant that she’d see more faces and meet all kinds of people (she also got a lot of tip money, but that’s beside the point). Zuko, on the other hand, only saw it as more work. 

“This is the best tea in the city!” One customer stated as he sipped Iroh’s tea.

Iroh smiled and held the pot up. “The secret ingredient...” He paused to waft the scent up into the air with his palm. “...is love.”

The uncle walked back to the main tea table where Pao was standing. Y/n bumped arms with Zuko, who had to quickly try and grasp the cups in his hands tightly so they wouldn’t fall.

“What’s with the face?” The werewolf smiled at him. “You know your Uncle is just having fun.”

The grimace from hearing Iroh’s ‘secret ingredient’ was still engraved on his face. “I know, but he’s having too much fun.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “You’re such a-”

The front doors of the tea shop burst open. Zuko instinctively dropped the porcelain cups and jumped in front of Y/n.

Standing in the doorway, Jet glared at Zuko menacingly. 

“I’m tired of waiting! These two men are firebenders!” Then, Jet pointed at Y/n. “And she’s a werewolf!”

The lunatic boy unsheathed his two swords, right in the middle of the tea shop. Y/n’s eyes widened and she shared a look with her fellow waiters. How does he know? 

Jet took a step closer to the trio. “I know what you are! I saw the old man heating his tea!”

“He works in a tea shop,” A random customer muttered bleakly. 

“And I heard her say what she was one night in their apartment!”

Y/n gasped; so that’s why nothing seemed right. The smell, someone watching them; it all must’ve been Jet. 

“Did you say you’re stalking her?” Two customers stood from their seats, both having a sword attached to their belts. They must be guards of some sort. “Drop your swords boy, nice and easy.”

However, Jet didn’t bother listening to them. “You'll have to defend yourself. Then everyone will know. Go ahead, show them what you can do.”

“You want a show? I’ll give you a show.” Zuko growled. 

Y/n reached out to stop him, to tell him to let the police handle it, but the boy already walked toward one of the standing customers. Zuko grabbed their swords and clashed them against each other, signalling the start of the battle. 

The werewolf ran toward Iroh and clung to his arm, scared of what was going to happen next. She shouldn’t interfere; she could get badly hurt from their swords and she shouldn’t reveal her identity. The safest bet would be to watch from afar and hope that Zuko made it out of this okay. 

Zuko had kicked a table at Jet, but he sliced it in half and pushed it to the side. He charges at Zuko, who dodges the attack by jumping onto a nearby table.

Y/n sees a family near the side and runs over to grasp onto the mother’s hand. The woman looks at her in fear before relaxing. The werewolf slowly guides her and her children around the battle between the boys; using her instincts to guess their next moves. Eventually, they all make it outside and the mom lets out a shaky breath.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” The mother says in relief, her children clinging to her legs in fear. 

“Your welcome, just try to get away before-”

She was interrupted by the thing she tried to mention; both boys jumping through the tea shop doors and out into the open street.

The family ran away to safety as Y/n turned to see what was happening. Iroh and the rest of the customers joined her to watch the outcome of the fight.

“Please, you’re confused! You don’t know what you’re doing!” Zuko’s Uncle shouted in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. 

Instead, they just kept fighting. 

They swung their swords at each other, never quite hitting, only getting close enough to be parried. The closest Zuko got to Jet was when he swung at his head, only for Jet to bend backward, the tip of the sword inches from his face. Jet jumped backward to a platform and stood on top of it. 

“See that?” Jet yelled out to the audience that had formed. “The Fire Nation is trying to silence me! But that’ll never happen.” 

Jet jumped back into the fight and they repeated a lot of what they were doing before. It was odd to Y/n, but it almost seemed like Zuko was... holding back? Jet’s techniques were good, but definitely not the best, so there’s no way Zuko could lose. Maybe he was just waiting until the crazy boy gave up.

Something that also stood out was the taboo around the Fire Nation. All of this was because her two friends were Firebenders? Why? After all of this cools down, she was definitely going to get some answers. 

Iroh grabbed onto Y/n’s shoulder and gently steered her to the right. She looked to see why and saw two men with hats parting the group. They both were decked out in green and had a circle across their chest. 

“Drop your weapons.” One stated authoritatively. They must’ve been some high-ranking police men. 

Zuko and Jet stepped away from each other and lowered their swords. Still, however, Jet didn’t settle down. 

“Arrest them!” He yelled. “Those two are Firebenders and she’s a Werewolf!”

Okay, this is getting a little annoying...

What’s so wrong with werewolves, anyway? These people don’t even think they’re real. 

Y/n was pouting, she knows she was. Iroh looked at her with an amused look before returning to the scene.  

“This boy is confused!” Iroh explained to the police. “We’re just simple refugees!” 

He was playing a pretty convincing part, so Y/n decided to join in. 

“Yeah, and he watched me while I was in the privacy of my own home!” 

“This young man wrecked my tea shop, and assaulted my employees!” Pao defended from behind them. 

One of the customers from before spoke out as well. “It's true, sir. We saw the whole thing. This crazy kid attacked the finest tea maker in the city.”

While Iroh blushed and thanked the man, the two police men walked up to Jet and arrested him. The boy struggled at first, but they put him in handcuffs to still his movements. They took him away and the crowd slowly dispersed. 

There were so many people walking around that Y/n didn’t see Zuko at first. She left go of Iroh to pushed past the group toward the spot he was before, but came up empty handed. Then she looked off to the side and saw him as he returned his two swords to the customers that he took it from. 

“Zu- err, Lee!”

Zuko turned around confused, but let out a small ‘oof’ as Y/n jumped at him and wrapped him in a tight hug. He couldn’t even process what was happening before she mumbling into his chest. Y/n didn’t even fully understand what she was saying; only snippets of how worried she was peeked through.

Her mind was jumbled again, just as it had been a couple nights ago. After Jet had gotten arrested, the reality of it all set into her. Jet had actually followed them for who knows how long, listening to every conversation and watching every movement they took. Iroh and Zuko were in real trouble for a moment; she didn’t know why Fire Benders were so bad, but it was enough to get arrested for. And then her... what if she had been alone? Would Jet have ambushed her? Would she have defended herself? What about Iroh; would he? Would Zuko, if there was no weapons around?

Everything was so complicated, so overwhelming, that she didn’t even know that she was crying. It wasn’t until Zuko wrapped her arms around her that she became aware of her surrounding and felt the wetness on her face.

And so they just stood for a moment, wrapped up in each other’s arms as the girl’s sobs rang out into the night.

___

Previous | Chapter 8 | Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @bucky-blogs @hopefuloperaangelnerd @simplyfandomish @oddlypointlessescapes @lozzybowe @woohoney @whalerus @cece-lives-here @bwndito @kiaoizz @lrmilikepie

[gaygent37]

Calling the Wolf Within - JayDick

I had a lot of hope going into this. I got 4k words in, and just lost interest, so here you go. As per usual, no porn :/ because it would’ve taken another few thousand words to get to that actual porn, and a few thousand to wrap it up afterwards, and that was too long for me. So I scrapped it and wrote the other werewolf fic instead. Also it just started getting strange.

5,021 words, JayDick, werewolf Jason, human Dick, human Tim, almost kidnapping, almost Stockholm Syndrome, almost mating calls, almost explained why ‘almost’ towards end, fluff, borderline crack at time, h/c, no idea why Tim is there, OOC Tim, it’s a mess

For the past week and a half, Dick would hear shuffling in the woods behind his cottage. The first couple of times, he took it as a family of rabbits or raccoons looking for a place to live, but when the heard a tree crack and fall, Dick knew it was something much bigger.

His neighbors said it could be a bear or perhaps a mountain lion that had come down from the mountains. So Dick called the local ranger to take a gander.

“I dunno what to tell ya, kid,” the ranger said, shaking his head at the tree and the large muddy footprints that appeared last night. “Ya see these tracks?” he asked, pointing to the paws in the mud. “I grew up in Wyoming, so I’ seen my share o’ wolf tracks. And if I were to guess, I’d say it’s one hellava wolf ya’ve got there.”

“W-Wolf?” Dick asked faintly. “But Mr. and Mrs. Hanks said there are no wolves in this area.”

The ranger nodded and tipped his hat. “There ain’t.”

Dick nodded slowly, like the ranger was making complete sense. “Okay, so there’s a huge wolf coming around the woods and making a mess near my house every night. What do you propose I do?”

“Wolf of this size?” he chuckled humorlessly, nodding at the tracks. “Ain’t no shotgun in the world that could make a dent in this thing, so I’d move the hell out. Well, that or call in the military. This is way outta my jurisdiction.”

“But you’re supposed to deal with these kinds of things in this area!” Dick said in frustration. “You can’t expect everyone to just move out when there’s a problem to can’t handle! Think of something!”

The ranger stood and scratched his head. “Well, I gotta friend a state over who specializes in catching these kinda beasts. He might have an extra-large bear trap or two?”

“Yes!” Dick said in relief. “Please call him.”

“You got it, kid.” The ranger stepped away for a few minutes to call his friend.

Dick shoved his hands into his pocket with a sigh, looking around the forest. He could see his cottage no more than thirty paces from the fallen tree and the tracks. There were also snapped branches and a dried bloody trail leading to a chicken carcass, more signs of the large animal that had popped up throughout the past week.

Dick shivered slightly and glanced over at the ranger, who was laughing into his phone. Suddenly, he shivered, a chill running over him. Dick glanced around again, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary in the sunny forest.

“Good news!” the ranger said, jogging back over. “My friend said he could come with a couple of his huntin’ buddies! Bad news, they can’t come until the weekend.”

“The weekend?” Dick asked. “That’s- That’s not for another four days.”

The ranger gave him a shrug.

Dick took a deep breath. “Okay. I- I guess I’ll just pack some stuff and go stay at the town inn until then. I don’t want to be up here alone when there’s that giant… whatever it is, running around.”

The ranger smiled. “That’s the spirit, kid! Want me to give you a ride into town?”

“Nah,” Dick said. “I need to do some packing first. I’ll head over first thing tomorrow morning.”

Dick awoke to the sound of his downstairs window breaking. Immediately, his hand went to his phone, which was charging on the bedside table. There were several more crashes and the banging of pots clashing, the sound of something very large moving through Dick’s tiny kitchen.

Dick slid off his bed and rolled under it in one smooth moment. He dialed 911 immediately and pressed the phone to his ear, his breathing erratic and loud. His eyes were pinned to his bedroom door, which was cracked open slightly.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Someone broke into my house,” Dick whispered.

“Okay, and where are they now?”

“In my house,” Dick repeated, barely daring to speak.

“And where are you, sir?”

“I’m- I’m hiding, under my bed. Can you- Can you please send a squad? With guns.” Dick tensed even more when he heard the bottom stair creak, louder than it has ever creaked before. “Please.”

“Is there only one person?” There was another creak. The second step. Then a third.

“I don’t know!” Dick hissed. “They’re- They’re making a lot of noise, and they’re coming up the stairs!”

“Okay, stay calm, sir. I’m going to-” Suddenly, there was loud thump, right outside his bedroom door. Whatever it was, had jumped eight entire steps up to the second floor. Dick shoved his phone underneath him and pressed his hand tightly to his mouth, not even daring to breathe.

His bedroom door was nosed open. Literally nosed open. The first thing that appeared was a huge snout. The nose twitched a couple of times before the rest of the beast entered the room as well.

Dick’s eyes grew wider, and he felt like his heart was going to pound out of his chest in fear. He could only see the huge paws of the creature, but it took up all the space in Dick’s room. Its tail knocked over Dick’s lamp, and the glass of watch he always set by his bed.

A soft growl filled the air and the creature shifted, stretching down so that its head was pressed against the ground. Golden eyes met his, and Dick let out the tiniest of squeaks.

The last thing Dick heard when he fainted was the emotionless calls of “Sir? Sir? Are you still there? Please stay on the line. We’re sending someone over right now.”

“…look! You scratched up his face!” There was a growl and a snapping of teeth. “Damn, that’s gotta hurt… Oh, wait, I think he’s waking up!”

Dick blinked his eyes open slowly, feeling dizzy and disoriented. The first thing he saw was the smiling face of a young teenager.

“Hullo,” the boy said. “You alright?”

“Where the hell… am I?” Dick asked, looking around. Everywhere he looked, he just saw jagged stone.

The boy gave a light laugh. “I couldn’t tell you,” he said. “Some cave in the middle of nowhere, probably.”

There was a snuffle and a growl from somewhere behind the boy.

Dick craned his neck and peered behind him. His eyes widened, and he tensed. The largest wolf Dick had ever seen was curled up lazily against the opposite wall, its head resting in its paws, and it was staring at Dick.

“Oh my god,” Dick said hoarsely. “I’m having a nightmare.”

“That’s what I thought too, at first,” the boy said, strangely cheerfully. “But you’ll get used to it.”

“What?” Dick asked, staring at the teen like he was crazy.

“Oh, I should introduce myself,” the boy said. He held out his hand. “I’m Tim.”

Dick stared at Tim’s hand for the longest time. He looked over at the wolf again. Then, he took Tim’s hand. “Dick… my name’s Dick,” he said very slowly, unsure of what was going on.

“So, where are you from, Dick?” Tim asked.

“Um… Brighton Springs… in Pennsylvania,” Dick said.

“Never heard of it,” Tim said.

“It’s a small town,” Dick said absently. “Wha- What about you? What are you doing here?” He kept a cautious eye on the wolf.

“Los Angeles,” Tim said.

“California?”

“Yup,” Tim said. “My parents were in Pittsburg for business, and I tagged along. Didn’t know I’d be kidnapped by a giant wolf though.” Tim laughed.

“Wait, you were- you were taken by- by that too?”

Tim nodded.

“And- And you’re not freaked out by it?!” Dick exclaimed.

“I was,” Tim said. “I’ve been here two weeks though, so I’ve had time to get used to it. Besides, Wolfie isn’t bad at all.”

“Wolfie.”

Tim grinned. “Yeah. I couldn’t keep calling him ‘it’ or ‘the wolf’. And I don’t think he really minds anyway. Isn’t that right, Wolfie?”

Wolfie yawned and flicked his tail.

“Oh my god, I’m stuck in a cave with a giant wolf and a crazy kid,” Dick muttered. “What the ever-loving fuck.”

“Hey, I’m not a kid,” Tim said. “I’m seventeen.”

“Seven- You look no older than thirteen!”

Tim gave him an annoyed look. “Right, and I guess you’d assume I also attend high school and nerd out over video games with my friends at lunch.”

Dick blinked at him. “…Do you not?”

Tim threw his hands in the air. “Oh my god, the people of this world! I’ll have you know that I’m in my sophomore year of college! At Cal Tech!”

Dick squinted at him. “And you still named the wolf… Wolfie?”

Tim huffed. “I- Okay, fine, it’s a stupid name! My parents never let me have a dog because my mom’s allergic, and I’ve always wanted one, and I wanted to name it Doggie, so sue me if I’m living my childhood dream a bit!”

“That’s not a dog, Tim. That thing can eat you up in one bite!” Dick said.

“But he hasn’t!” Tim shouted.

“Doesn’t mean he won’t!”

“Holy shit, Wolfie, you’ve picked up the most annoying person ever!” Tim yelled. “You get him out of here, or I’m leaving!”

“You know what? I don’t want to be here anyway!” Dick fumed back. He stood up and shoved Tim out of the way and started storming towards the exit.

In a flash, Wolfie was on his feet and in front of Dick in a threatening stance, lips pulled back in a growl. He snapped his teeth at Dick.

“Wha- What’s he doing?” Dick said, taking a step back. Wolfie took step forward.

Dick stepped back again. Wolfie continued to follow, growling and snapping his teeth. “Tim, call him off!”

“He doesn’t listen to me,” Tim grumbled. “Besides, you yelled at me, so I don’t think I’m going to help you.”

Tim sat down, crossed his legs, and produced a bag of chips from somewhere. He popped it open and started eating, watching as Dick was slowly being cornered against the cave wall.

“S-Seriously, I- I think he’s going to eat me!” Dick whimpered, his back pressed tightly against the cold stone.

Wolfie opened his mouth wide, and Dick screamed, his knees giving out as he curled up in a ball, waiting for the inevitable.

Suddenly, there was a heavy floomph of air and fur tickled Dick’s nose. He waited a few more seconds before opening his eyes.

He was still curled up against the wall, but now, Wolfie was sprawled in front of him, on his back, giant legs up in the air.

“What’s- What’s he doing?” Dick asked, pulling himself in tighter.

“Making sure you don’t try running away again,” Tim said, licking his fingers. “And asking for belly rubs. He likes the spot under his chin the best.”

“Huh?!”

“Rub his belly,” Tim said.

Dick stared at Tim like the boy was crazy. But Tim did not seem like he was kidding, and the way Wolfie was lying, it really did seem like a dog waiting for belly rubs.

Wolfie turned his head towards Dick, his golden eyes wide. And holy shit, he looked sad.

“Stop- Stop that,” Dick said weakly. “I thought you were going to eat me.”

Wolfie let out a whine and wiggled even closer.

Dick stared at him for a couple more seconds before giving in to the puppy-dog eyes. He placed his trembling hand on Wolfie’s stomach, pushing down several inches of fur, which were surprising soft.

Very tentatively, Dick moved his hand back and forth. Wolfie gave a rumble of pleasure.

“Oh my god, he likes it,” Dick said in a near-hysterical voice.

“Told you,” Tim said smugly, opening his second bag of chips. “Get the spot under his chin.”

Dick looked over at Wolfie’s head, which was arched back in response. “Er, how? I’m stuck here.”

“Climb on top of him,” Tim said. “And use both hands.”

Dick was not keen on the idea of climbing onto Wolfie’s stomach, but after another brief stare down with the sad golden eyes, Dick uncurled himself and slowly put one leg over Wolfie’s stomach, straddling him.

Then, Dick slowly pulled himself up until his legs were behind Wolfie’s front legs, and he could comfortably reach over and scratch under Wolfie’s chin.

Dick took a deep breath and reached forward. Suddenly, he was slammed down flat against Wolfie’s chest, his face pressed into the soft fur. He could feel Wolfie’s giant legs wrapped around him.

“Aww, he wants a hug,” Tim laughed. “Lucky you, Dick. I’ve never gotten a hug before.”

Dick struggled, trying to put himself up, but Wolfie’s hold was strong. Eventually, Dick gave up when Wolfie did not seem to move. So Dick just lay there, half-scared, half-confused, with his ear pressed to Wolfie’s heartbeat.

The steady ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, eventually lulled him off to sleep.

It took a bit of getting used to, but like Tim said, he got used to it. Mostly.

Four days into his capture, Dick awoke to his face being gently licked by a soft tongue. “No…” he groaned, pushing away Wolfie’s snout.

Wolfie snuffled and licked Dick again, this time, getting under his neck.

“That tickles,” Dick grimaced, his eyes still stubbornly screwed shut. “Go wake Tim first.”

“I’m already awake, dummy. You need to get up and make us food. I can’t cook for shit.”

Dick groaned and rolled over, pulling the blankets over his head, burrowing deeper into his bed. His “bed” consisted of large scraps of very soft material and larger, thicker scraps for blankets.

Wolfie hooked a paw around Dick’s waist and turned him over like it was nothing. Dick whined, but he eventually sat up and got breakfast going.

Dick had no idea where all the household items or any of the food was coming from. They just appeared out of nowhere, when neither Dick nor Tim was paying attention. The perishables were still cold.

“Bacon! Bacon! Bacon!” Tim chanted.

“Okay, okay,” Dick said with a laugh as Wolfie nudged him all the way to the fire pit.

Breakfast did not take long to cook up – as much bacon as either of them could take, and a large helping of eggs. Wolfie had the habit of nipping at the their fingers for bacon scraps, which would have terrified Dick before, but now, he found it endearing.

It was strange how quickly his mindset changed in four days.

“Hey,” Dick said after swallowing the last of his eggs. “You’ve been here for nearly three weeks now, right? Did you ever take a shower?”

Tim gasped, his eyes lighting up. “Can we go to the swimming hole?” he practically squealed.

“Swimming hole?” Dick asked, glancing at Wolfie, who usually curled around the two of them during breakfast.

“Yeah! There’s this huge swimming hole by here. A waterfall and everything!” Tim said excitedly. “I’ve been there a few times so far, to wash and then swim.”

“That… That sounds perfect,” Dick said. It also sounded like a way to scout his surroundings and gauge where the hell he was.

Not long after breakfast, Dick found himself standing in front of a large pool of water that very gradually became deeper, deepest at the waterfall.

“Wow,” Dick said.

“I know,” Tim said, already splashing into the water. “It’s fucking cold though!” He ran out of the water again, laughing.

“Get in here!” Dick said, splashing water at Tim.

“Hey!” Tim ran back in, sending a wave of water crashing into Dick.

Dick dunked himself under the water before coming up. “Hah! You missed.”

Wolfie lay down at the edge, content in just watching. At some point, he fell asleep. That was when Dick grabbed Tim and pulled him in.

“I’m gonna go climb the waterfall,” he whispered.

“Wh-What?” Tim asked, confused. “Why?”

“Duh, to see what’s up there. To see how far away we are from anything. Maybe I can signal help or something,” Dick said.

Tim looked completely baffled. “Are you crazy?” he asked.

Dick’s expression darkened. “What, you think we can actually stay here with that wolf forever?”

“Well, I-”

“Grow up, Tim, this isn’t some fantasy world. He kidnapped us. I’m going to climb that waterfall. And you’re going to distract him if he wakes up.”

With that, Dick dunked himself under the water and started swimming towards the base of the waterfall. Up close, the roar of the water was louder, but it was not a particularly large waterfall, only about twelve feet up. The rocks that made the wall were at a convenient slant. The only issue was that they were mossy and slick.

Dick pulled himself up onto the first rock, shivering as the air hit his wet body. Still, he continued climbing. A couple of times, his foot slipped, but he was nearly to the top.

Suddenly, he heard Tim yell, “Wolfie, no!”

Dick turned around and saw Wolfie leap from the shore into the water, completely clearing Tim’s head. Dick gritted his teeth and climbed a little faster.

Just as he was about to reach the top, Dick looked back down and saw Wolfie at the base of the waterfall. His front legs were on the bottom rock, but he made no attempt to climb. He just watched Dick with those sad golden eyes.

Dick had to turn away. Finally, with quite some effort, Dick made it to the top of the waterfall. He was very disappointed to find just more forest all around him. For a second, he considered running away, but he thought about Tim – the city boy who could not cook, ate nothing but chips, and was an all-around mess of a human being – and he could not bear to.

With a sigh, Dick turned around again, standing at the top of the waterfall, looking down at Tim. He gave the boy a little wave. Wolfie gave a whimper and a howl, patting the rock he was hanging onto. Dick understood that Wolfie wanted him to climb back down.

Dick gave a tiny smile and shook his head. “Watch this!” he called. He back up a few steps, took a running start, and leapt off the edge.

He did a total of two flips before hitting the water perfectly. It was quite exhilarating. Dick did not get a chance to enjoy the moment because he was suddenly being propelled toward the surface, his body being pushed by the nose of an extra-large canine.

Dick laughed as he broke the surface, allowing Wolfie to swim him back to the shore.

“Dick!” Tim said, splashing over. “Are you okay? I thought you were going to break your neck doing that!”

“I was on the dive team in high school, Timbo,” Dick said, sitting up. “I’m fine.”

“Well, I didn’t know that! It was scary, but also kind of cool.”

Wolfie obviously did not agree. He nudged Dick further onto the shore with rough flicks of his nose. When Dick was a good distance from the water, Wolfie started sniffing and licking him all over.

“W-Wolfie! That’s- That’s completely unnecessary,” Dick said. “I’m fine!”

Wolfie ignored him and continued with his sniffing and licking, occasionally letting whines from his throat. Finally, Dick succumbed to the mother hen treatment, just lying there and allowing Wolfie to turn him this way and that, checking for the tiniest of scratches.

When Wolfie was at last satisfied, he let his head drop down by Dick’s body, his eyes boring into Dick’s, sad and vulnerable.

“Look, you made upset him,” Tim chided. “He thought you were going to get hurt.”

Dick sighed and gave Wolfie a wry smile. “Sorry about that,” he said, patting Wolfie’s head. “I’ll tell you next time.”

Wolfie moved his head from side to side.

Dick raised his eyebrows. It was the first actual response he had gotten from Wolfie.

“I won’t do it at all next time?” he said slowly.

Wolfie huffed and moved his snout onto Dick’s legs, demanding more pets.

It was the full moon, the first one since Tim or Dick had been taken.

In the middle of the night, Dick was nudged awake.

“Stop it, Timmy,” Dick grumbled, pulling the covers closer.

“No, Dick, get up. I want to show you something.”

“’m sleeping.”

“Please, Dickie. You’ll like it.”

Finally, after some more grumbling and insistence, Dick opened his eyes. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the scant bits of moonlight that filtered into the cave and to register the face hovering above his.

It was not Tim.

Dick blinked several times to make sure he was not dreaming. He turned his head to the side and realized that Tim was still asleep in the bed next to him, cocooned tightly in his blankets.

“Who are you?” Dick asked. He slowly sat up, looking around the cave. Wolfie was nowhere to be seen.

The strange man grinned took Dick’s hand. “I want to show you something,” he repeated.

“Huh?” Dick, still not fully awake, stumbled to his feet, tugged along by the man. “Wait, who are you? Where’s- Where’s Wolfie?”

It was bizarre for Dick to be exiting the cave without Wolfie trotting behind him or Tim chattering loudly by his side. The moon was large and bright above them, lighting the way.

It was then that Dick noticed that the man was also completely naked, running barefoot through the forest.

“Hurry up, Dickie!” the man would occasionally turn and say.

“How do you know my name?” Dick asked, though none of his questions were ever answered.

Dick felt like they had been running for miles by the time they stopped. Dick had no idea where they were, nor did he have any idea who was leading him. Perhaps it was just a very realistic dream.

“Look,” the man said, pointing in front of them. Dick gasped softly when he saw the cabin. It looked like a rich person’s vacation cabin, three stories tall and very large. “Do you… like it?” the man asked.

Dick looked at him. “I don’t- I don’t understand,” he said. “Who are you? What is this place?”

“Home,” the man said with a smile. He stepped closer. “Home, Dickie.”

Dick got a good look at the man. He was a bit taller than Dick, with black hair and blue eyes and a deliciously sharp jawline. The rest of his body, which Dick may or may not have been admiring to distract himself from the burning of his lungs, was just as attractive.

“Is this your house?” Dick asked.

“Mine, yours, Timmy’s, ours,” the man said. “I want to show you the inside.”

“I don’t- what?” Dick asked, having no choice but to follow the man.

The inside of the cabin was gorgeous as well. The rich, dark wood gave the cabin a warm feel to it, and it was comfortably furnished as well. But the man ignored all of that in favor of pulling Dick up the stairs.

He pulled Dick into the first room on the second floor.

“What’s this?” Dick asked, looking around. It looked like a typical master bedroom.

“It’s our bedroom,” the man said proudly.

“…I’m sorry, did you say our?”

The man nodded.

“I don’t get it,” Dick said helplessly. “Can you please just tell me who you are?”

The man’s smile faded a little. “I’m your mate.”

“Mate?”

“I’ll take care of you and make sure you’re safe and happy,” the man said. He stepped forward, pulling Dick closer by slipping an arm around Dick’s waist. If Dick were not beyond confused by his situation, he would not have minded so much.

“I don’t even know you!” Dick said.

The man leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Dick’s jaw. “You know me,” he whispered in Dick’s ear. “I’ve taken care of you and Timmy.”

Just like that, it clicked, though it made no sense either. “You’re- You’re Wolfie?”

“Jason,” the man said. “My name’s Jason.” The kisses trailed to Dick’s cheek, edging closer to his lips. “I’m a werewolf.”

“Werewolf… like- like vampires and werewolves,” Dick said, unable to wrap his head around it.

Jason pulled back, his expression puzzled. “N…o? Just werewolf. I don’t know any vampires. They usually congregate in the South.”

“Oh! How convenient,” Dick said as a hysterical giggle bubbled up his throat. “I was kidnapped by a werewolf who now thinks I’m his mate.”

Jason stepped back this time, his face contorted in a frown. “I didn’t kidnap you,” he said, his voice low. “You called me.”

“What?! That’s ridiculous!” Dick said. “Why- Why would I call you?”

“I don’t know,” Jason snapped. “You sat at your window every time for two weeks, calling to me! You told me to take you away.”

“I would never do that!” Dick said, a chill running through him.

Jason looked hurt. His arms crossed in front of him, defensive. “You did, though.”

“No, I didn’t,” Dick insisted. “I had a good life, and I didn’t need someone to ‘take me away’ from it. All you did was ruin my life by kidnapping me!”

Jason recoiled, stepping backwards again. “You don’t want to be my mate?” he asked.

“No!”

“Fine.” Jason turned and started walking away.

“Where the hell are you going?” Dick demanded. “You’re just going to leave me here?”

“You can have this place,” Jason growled. “I don’t need it anymore now that I don’t have a mate.” He stormed down the stairs, heading for the front door. “I’m going back to Tim.”

“He’s just a kid!” Dick shouted. “Even if you didn’t kidnap me, you certainly took him!”

Jason jerked the door open and turned for a second. “I did not! He found me! He followed me! He threatened to tell authorities where I was hiding if I didn’t take him in!”

“What?” Dick asked. “But- But why did he lie then?”

Jason just gave him one more withering glare before slamming the door behind him. Dick ran to the window, and all he saw was the flash of a large wolf’s tail before the dark forest was all that surrounded him.

That night, Dick tried to sleep, but he could not, tossing and turning on the couch. The next night, it got worse. Dick could not even find a comfortable position to lie still in. The third night, Dick spent pacing, exhausted but unable to rest.

Something just felt wrong. He just felt distinctly uncomfortable everywhere, despite it not being physical. Dick felt like he was going crazy.

On the fourth day, Dick crawled into the bed on the second floor master bedroom and sobbed for an hour straight before falling asleep. He slept through the night for the first time. But the next night, he kept waking up. By the end of the week, Dick could not sleep at all again.

He had taken to sitting by the window, staring forlornly out into the forest. Dick had no idea what was bothering him so much, nor did he know what he was searching for.

At the start of the second week, Dick propped the window open, his head resting on the windowsill as he stared into the forest.

“I miss you,” he whispered to the silent trees. “I’m lonely. Please come back.”

Not even the breeze answered.

Dick felt warmer than he had all week. The warmth was surrounding him completely, and Dick reached out for more, his hands grabbing fistfuls of the warmth and pulled himself closer.

Then the warmth moved, curling tighter around Dick. It made him inexplicably happy.

Dick’s eyes snapped open to find that he was pressed against a very furry mass. There was a large paw curled around his waist as well, keeping him close.

Dick pushed himself up as much as he could. “Wolfie?” he whispered, recognizing the dozing wolf. He also recognized the cave he had spent much of the past month in. On his other side, Tim was sprawled on his chest, starfish style.

Dick smiled, unable to help the flood of relief that ran through him. He was back, like the past week was just some terrible nightmare.

He lay back down, snuggling even closer and fell asleep again.

---

The second that morning broke, Dick was shoved awake by Tim.

“Where the hell were you?!” he demanded.

“Wha…?”

“You disappeared in the middle of the night, and Wolfie was worried sick! And he was depressed without you here. And I missed you too, you idiot!”

Dick sat up only to be hugged tightly by Tim. He patted Tim’s back and looked around the cave, his eyes lingering on Wolfie, who was sitting by the entrance, his tail flopped over his eyes.

“How… How did I get back here?” Dick asked.

“Wolfie brought you back,” Tim said. “He’s just been moping around the cave all day and night, and then last night, he just perked up and took off into the forest. When he came back, you were asleep on his back.”

“Oh,” Dick said, looking back at Wolfie. He extracted himself from Tim and hesitantly walked over there. “Hey,” he said, sitting down next to the wolf’s head. Dick took Wolfie���s tail away. “I’m sorry I worried you. I don’t… I don’t know if you can understand all of what I’m saying when you’re… um, in this form, but thank you. For coming back for me.

“I don’t really know what going on, but I just know I missed you a lot. Timmy too, but…” Dick trailed off, looking into Wolfie’s golden eyes. “Do you know what I’m saying?”

Wolfie stared at him. Then, he raised his head and licked Dick’s cheek.

“Okay,” Dick said. “I guess I’ll talk to you more when you… I don’t know, change back or something?”

He got another lick.

“Alright then,” Dick said with a small smile. He sat down and leaned against Wolfie’s side, finally feeling at peace.

[lifblogs]

Title: The Boy

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Pairing: N/A

Word Count: 1237

Summary: Sam gets Jack a cat, and Sam is shocked by what his son ends up naming it.

Just tagging people who might be interested (even if I haven’t really talked to y’all). It is 100% okay if you don’t read this, and if you’re upset I tagged you, just let me know and I’ll remove it.

@jackklinelovesstarwars, @flightoftheseraph, @felix-the-white-wolf, @jackklinesaysfuck, @chimeracuddles

A/N: This needs a keep reading, but I’m posting on mobile, so that doesn’t exist.

oOoOo

“Sam, what the hell is that?” Dean asked of his brother who was holding up an ugly bundle of fur. Huh, Dean’s nose was starting to feel a bit stuffy.

“It’s a cat,” Sam answered.

The ball of tawny-brown fur turned what must’ve been its head and let out a high-pitched meow.

“Uh… I think something squished its face.”

Sam cradled the cat.

“That’s just how he looks.”

Dean sniffled, and had to resist scratching at his left eye. “You know I’m allergic, right?”

“You know you’re not severe and there’s allergy medicine, right?”

“But—” He held his arms out, searching for what to say. He dropped them, exhaling. “I don’t have an argument for that. So why’d we get it?”

“Him.”

Dean rolled his eyes, strolling to the kitchen, Sam following.

“Why’d we get him?”

“I was out with Jack the other day and he saw he was up for adoption, so—”

“So you got a family pet without discussing it with the rest of us?”

Sam brought the cat to his shoulder, and now the ugly ball of fur was practically hugging his brother, and his bushy tail was wrapped against his arm.

“Cas said it was a good idea.”

Dean flicked a glass, irritated. And then set about making coffee, dodging around Sam and the cat.

“Great, so everyone else but me knows.”

“Not everyone.”

“Jack?” Dean asked.

“Jack.”

oOoOo

Jack stared in complete wonder at the cat his dads had presented to him. It was brown with tawny and gold patches. It’s face was all tiny and flat and scrunched up. There was a bib of white, poofy fur at its chest, and it started at his chin, like a long beard. Golden eyes looked back at him, and toes with tufts of fur between them were stretched.

“So… do you like him?” Castiel asked.

Jack had crouched down to make himself more on the cat’s level, and he reached out his hand, still remaining a foot away from him. The cat glanced at him, came over nose-first, but then shuffled away. He busied himself with rubbing up against chairs.

Jack frowned.

“I can’t tell if he likes me.”

“He probably likes you, kid,” Dean responded. “That uh… thing he’s doing — means he’s happy, right?”

Sam answered, “Think so.”

“So what are you gonna name him?” Dean asked.

Jack sat on the floor of the library, cross-legged, and watched as the cat was shyly making his way over to him.

“I don’t know yet.”

oOoOo

It took a couple days for the cat to warm up to Jack, and for the moment he was just calling the loveable and funny fuzzball “The Boy.” The Boy liked trying to get Jack up to play in the middle of the night. He’d try following Castiel out the bunker door, but couldn’t make it up the steps. He liked to beg Dean for food, sit with Sam while he read, and flood the kitchen as much as possible. Every day they had to dry the little area where his water bowl was kept at least three times. The Boy let them know when they had to, and he did so loudly. The Boy was incredibly loud, but it gave Jack someone to talk to. And loving The Boy, he did his best to come up with a name.

oOoOo

“Lord Tyr-i-on!” Jack called. “Tyr-i-on!” He made a chirping noise with his tongue, something he’d heard Lord Tyrion do.

There was a patter of fluffy feet against hardwood.

Sam came in, eyebrows raised.

“What did you name him?”

Jack froze, realizing his mistake. Still, he picked up The Boy/Lord Tyrion anyway.

Jack didn’t like to lie, but…

“The Boy?”

Sam gave him a face that said he knew he wasn’t being honest. That was probably for the best. His stomach hurt.

Lord Tyrion pawed at Jack’s face, doing so until his paws rested calmly against his cheeks.

“Alright, I named him Lord Tyrion,” Jack answered. Sam crossed his arms, waiting for him to go on. “I watch Game of Thrones from behind the couch when you and Dean watch it in the man cave.”

“Did you ever consider that we don’t invite you to watch because it’s for adults?”

“I’m not a kid,” Jack said.

Lord Tyrion’s fur started twitching on a spot along his back. His tail lashed. Jack had been starting to learn this was a bad sign, so he put him down.

“Jack, how old are you?” Sam asked, as if wanting Jack to figure out this whole thing out on his own.

Guilt weighing on him, he lowered his head, and sucked on his bottom lip. Lord Tyrion was going over to Sam now, mewing at him desperately, but Sam ignored him for the moment.

“Three years old,” he responded. “But I’m not human!” he added. “You know I’m different.”

“But there are still things you don’t know, things that you shouldn’t have to think about or worry about right now. And sometimes that includes not getting to watch certain movies or shows. You’re a smart, talented kid, Jack, but maturity comes with experience and age, and while you’ve been through a lot, I don’t really like the idea of you watching Game of Thrones.”

Jack started chewing on his bottom lip. Sam was probably right. He’d had some nightmares, and he’d seen a lot that was confusing. But he knew he liked Lord Tyrion, and his cat, previously named The Boy, was lordly.

“No more watching it from behind the couch, alright?” Sam told him.

Jack nodded.

His dad reached down to pick up the complaining Lord Tyrion, and the cat let out a “BRRT!” as he got lifted up. He then let out a scratchy meow right in Sam’s face. His dad smiled, and started scratching his ear, cooing to him, calling him by his real name.

Tyrion eventually reached a paw out to Jack, so Sam handed him back over. The weight and shape of him was quickly becoming familiar. He wanted to nuzzle his face in Lord Tyrion’s fur, but he wasn’t sure the cat considered him enough of a family member for him to get away with.

“Lord Tyrion — it’s a good name,” Sam commented. The cat being mentioned eyed Sam at hearing his name.

“So he can keep the name?”

Sam gave an easy smile.

“I’ll just tell your other dads I named him. It can be our secret.”

“Uh… are you sure?”

Jack didn’t like secrets.

Sam came over, putting one hand on Lord Tyrion’s back, the other on Jack’s shoulder. He fondly put himself in Jack’s personal space, the loving warmth of a father radiating from him.

“I give you permission to keep this secret. You really want Dean to find out you’ve been watching that stuff?”

Jack went wide-eyed at the thought, standing stock-still.

Tyrion complained and started flailing. Jack put him down.

“Thanks for Lord Tyrion,” Jack answered. “I know you’re the one who got him.”

The cat was sauntering away, but his tail was held high, fur sticking out all over. Sam just put an arm around Jack and pulled him close. As Tyrion dodged under a table and made his way over to the main hallways, Jack raised a hand in goodbye (a blessedly temporary one).

“Bye, Lord Tyrion.”

It might’ve been Jack’s imagination, but he thought he heard Lord Tyrion squeak.

[stilinskishit]

Too Long (A Stiles Stilinski Fanfic) - Chapter 13

**First couple of posts have a different title but I changed it because I didn’t like it :)**

Summary: Teen Wolf with a female main character alongside Scott and Stiles? Here it is. Ramie McCall is Scott’s twin sister and best friends with both her twin and Stiles. The trio’s friendship means the world to all three of them, so what happens when there are more than friend type of feelings present?

Tags: @multi-madison​​ @purple286 @multifandxm353​ @bralessandflawless @5secondsofmoxley

A/N: Before reading this, please take the time to utilize the link below and sign some petitions and donate if you can! It’ll only take a few minutes :) Also, I start working full time again this week, so it will be harder for me to find time to write, but I will do my best! Had to add in snapback Stiles for this chapter because I just love him in a hat so much. 

https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/

MASTERLIST

Chapter 13 - Snapback

Season 2, Episode 6, 7 + 8

When Stiles and Ramie made it back to the woods to take their shift watching Jackson that night, they only found a sleeping Scott and Allison, and an empty prison van. Stiles was pissed, but Ramie couldn’t help but giggle at the fact that they found Scott and Allison naked together. However, with Jackson gone, Stiles decided he needed to tell his Dad the truth about everything, so they could make sure Jackson didn’t kill anymore people. However, when Scott and Stiles went to tell Noah the truth, they were only met with Jackson being at the police station, with his parents.

This led to Jackson filing a restraining order against Scott and Stiles. Ramie wasn’t sure why he left her out of the kidnapping story, but she was thankful she wasn’t in trouble with the police like her brother and best friend. Melissa was extremely mad at Scott, but Scott played if off like he was upset about their Dad never being around, so he got out of her angry wrath pretty easily. The next day at school Allison and Ramie met Scott and Stiles in the library to let them know what Lydia had translated for them from the beastiary. Ramie and Allison hid on one side of a library stack while Scott and Stiles stood on the other side, Allison handing the tablet through and empty space with no books.

Stiles and Ramie hadn’t talked about their fight the night before. However, things definitely weren’t normal between the two of them. Ramie was still upset about what Stiles had said and Stiles seemed like he wanted to say something to her, but kept quiet instead.

“What’d you tell her?” Scott asked Allison when she mentioned Lydia being confused about what she was translating.

“I told her we were part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures,” Allison said, not looking towards Scott and Stiles and pretending to be talking to just Ramie, who let out a snicker.

“I am part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures,” Stiles’ voice came from the other side of the shelf.

“Oh… great,” Allison said, sending Ramie a smirk. Stiles smiled at first then it faded when he realized everyone was holding back a laugh. Ramie rolled her eyes. Of course Allison knew about her previous crush on Stiles, but she was with Isaac now, so she wasn’t sure why Allison was still giving her looks like that.

“So does this say how to find out who’s controlling him?” Scott changed the subject.

“No, not really. But Stiles was right about the murders,” Ramie said, giving Stiles a quick glance. He exclaimed a small “yes” and clenched his fist. “It calls the kanima a weapon of vengeance. There’s a story about a South American priest who uses the kanima to execute murders in his village.”

“See? Maybe it’s not that bad,” Stiles said.

“Until the bond grew strong enough that it killed whoever he wanted it to,” Allison finished Ramie’s story from before.

“All bad, all very very bad,” Stiles shook his head. Ramie let out a small breath of air, almost a laugh and Stiles’ eyes shot to hers. He looked like he might smile for a second, but she looked away before he got the chance.

“The thing is, the kanima is actually supposed to be,” Allison paused, a teacher returning a book at the end of the stack they were in. Ramie nodded slightly when she was gone, letting Allison know it was okay to continue. “A werewolf. But it can’t be-“

“Until it resolves that in its past that manifest it,” Scott finished, reading from the tablet.

“Okay if that means Jackson could use a few thousand hours of therapy I could’ve told you that myself,” Stiles deadpanned.

“You got that right,” Ramie agreed. “Maybe it has something to do with his parents, his real parents.”

“Yeah, does anyone know what actually happened to them?” Scott asked.

“Lydia might,” Stiles said instantly, and Ramie fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“But what if she doesn’t,” Scott looked at Stiles.

“Well he doesn’t have a restraining order against me so I’ll ask him myself,” Allison said, putting the book she was pretending to look at back on the shelf.

“What should I do?” Scott asked.

“You have a makeup exam,” Ramie told him, sounding a lot like their mother. Scott looked at Stiles, who tilted his head, agreeing with Ramie.

“Promise me you’ll go,” Allison said, grabbing Scott’s hand through the stacks. Ramie watched as Stiles looked away awkwardly.

“If he does anything you run as fast as you can away from him,” Scott said protectively.

“I know how to take care of myself,” Allison told him.

“Allison if you get hurt while I’m taking care of some stupid test someone’s going to have to take care of me,” Scott said quickly. Ramie made eye contact with Stiles and pointed at him. Stiles pointed to himself and shook his head, pointing back at her. Allison snickered at them and Scott glared. “If he does anything weird, bizarre, anything-“

“Anything evil,” Stiles said suddenly, sticking his head through the hole in the stacks. Ramie put a hand on his face, shoving him back as he groaned. He flailed and nearly dropped the book he was holding, looking around to see if anyone saw him.

“She’ll be fine,” Ramie told the two boys.

…

Ramie didn’t have any classes with Scott, Stiles or Allison for the rest of the day, but Allison texted her towards the end of the day saying that she couldn’t bring her home anymore because somehow they had all gotten detention. Allison said it was a long story that she would explain later. Ramie was waiting outside for Lydia to get a ride with instead, when she saw Derek pull up to get Isaac. After thinking on it for a minute, Ramie walked over to his car, leaning in the window.

“I still need to be trained,” she told him. He raised his eyebrows. “I thought you hated me,” he asked, smirk clear on his face.

“I do,” Ramie sighed. “But now we have hunters and werewolves and kanimas and who knows what else, I need to be able to protect myself."

“Get in,” Derek said simply. Ramie huffed, just as Isaac made it to the car.

“Ramie, what are you-“

“Just get in you two, before an Argent or your brother sees,” Derek said, and the two teens listened.

Ramie spent the afternoon training with Isaac and Derek. Derek went much harder with Isaac, obviously, trying to get him better at fighting and controlling his shift. He continued hand to hand stuff with Ramie, and definitely forgot she was completely human a few times, leaving her with some intense scrapes and bruises. Derek was in the middle of telling her for the third time that they should take a break when they heard yelling from a distance.

“Derek!” Ramie recognized the voice as her brother. She looked around for something to wipe off her bloody fists, but Scott, Stiles and Erica came into view too soon. Scott was running and carrying Erica, who looked like she was seizing, and Stiles was following close behind. Ramie watched as Stiles and Scott exchanged a glance when they noticed her there. Derek ran forward, grabbing Erica from Scott’s arms.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, placing Erica on the ground.

“Jackson,” Scott said, stepping behind Erica to hold her up.

“Is she dying?” Isaac asked, moving closer.

“She might,” Derek said grabbing her arm. “Which is why this is gonna hurt.”

Derek grabbed Erica’s arm, breaking it to trigger the healing process. He then sunk his claws into her arm, to get the kanima venom out. Erica screamed and Ramie stepped back, clinging to Isaac’s arm. After a minute, Erica passed out. Derek said she was okay, just exhausted from what her body went through. He laid her on the couch and told Isaac to keep an eye on her. Scott, Stiles and Ramie followed Derek into a corner away from the other two.

“So you know who it is,” Scott said to Derek.

“Jackson.”

“I’m gonna help you stop him, as part of your pack.” Scott said. “If you want me in, fine, but we’re doing this my way. He won’t die. We’ll catch him, not kill him.”

“Fine,” Derek sighed. Scott was quiet for a minute, then spoke up again.

“And whatever it is you’re doing here with my sister, stop.” Ramie went to speak but Derek cut her off.

“You’re her brother, not her father.”

“Yeah well their father is a piece of shit so,” Stiles butted in, stepping closer to Derek.

“Both of you relax,” Ramie said, glaring at Scott and Stiles. “Derek has been helping me for months now, since you got turned Scott. He’s been teaching me how to fight, how to defend myself. I can’t be caught in the middle of all of this completely helpless. I came to him and asked for help. And Isaac has nowhere else to be, so if I want to see him I have to come here anyways.”

Scott and Stiles started talking at the same time.

“I’m not letting you try to fight against anyone.”

“You’re still dating him?” Ramie held up a hand to silence them both.

“You can’t always protect me Scott, there are going to be times where I need to be able to fend for myself. And I’d rather know how to defend myself so I can at least have a fighting chance,” she said, arms crossed over her chest. She pointed at Stiles “And you need to relax about Isaac. If Scott can sit here and tell Derek he’ll be part of his pack then I can date Issac. I don’t know why it matters so much to you anyways. Go worry about Lydia.”

Ramie turned and walked back over to Issac before anyone could say anything more.

…

Later that night, Ramie found herself tagging along with Scott to go see Deaton’s to try and figure out how they were going to trap Jackson without killing him. Stiles had called Scott and told them that his Dad had figured out that all of the kanima’s victims were the same age and all in Harris’ class when they were in high school. He couldn’t yet figure out where Isaac’s dad came into the mix, but they did find out that Isaac’s brother, who had died in combat, would’ve been the same age as the rest of the victims if he was still alive. But they still couldn’t figure out who was controlling Jackson.

“What’s he doing here?” Scott nodded his head towards Isaac as Derek walked through the front door of the vet clinic. Isaac rolled his eyes and grabbed Ramie’s waist, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“I need him,” Derek said, walking past Scott.

“I don’t trust him,” Scott said plainly. Ramie glared at her brother.

“Yeah well, he doesn’t trust you either,” Isaac said, playing off the fact that Scott was acting like he wasn’t right there.

“You know what, Derek doesn’t care,” Derek looked between the two boys. Ramie scoffed and leaned onto Isaac’s side, who had sat down on Deaton’s desk, an arm wrapping lazily around her waist. “Now where’s the vet, is he going to help us or not?”

“That depends,” Deaton said from the doorway. “Jackson, are we going to kill him, or save him?”

“Kill him,”  Derek said, at the same time Scott said, “Save him.”

“Save him,” Scott said again, glaring at Derek. Derek rolled his eyes, following Deaton further into the clinic. Scott, Ramie and Isaac followed, gathering around the examination table as Deaton placed a wooden box on top of it, filled with small jars with various symbols on the lids. Isaac reached his hand out to grab at one of them, but Derek grabbed his wrist before he had the chance.

“Watch what you touch,” Derek told him, giving the younger boy an annoyed look. Scott scoffed next to Ramie and she elbowed him in the ribs.

“So,” Isaac leaned down, putting his elbows on the table and looking up a Deaton. “What are you, some kind of witch?”

“No, I’m a veterinarian,” Deaton said simply. Isaac nodded curtly and stepped back. Ramie sat herself up on the counter behind the table and Isaac leaned next to her, his arm resting on her thigh as Deaton continued. “I don’t see anything here that’s going to be an effective defense against a paralytic toxin.”

“We’re open to suggestions,” Derek said.

“What about an effective offense,” Isaac suggested, but Derek cut him off quickly, not looking back towards his beta.

“We already tried, I nearly took his head off, and Argent emptied an entire clip into it. This thing just gets back up.”

“Has it shown any weaknesses?” Deaton asked.

“It can’t swim,” Ramie said, remembering what Stiles had told her about he and Derek’s incident in the pool with the kanima. “But Jackson is the captain of the swim team.”

“Essentially you’re trying to catch two people,” Deaton said. “A puppet, and a puppeteer. One killed the husband, but the other had to take care of the wife, do we know why?”

“I don’t think Jackson could do it,” Scott said after a second of silence. “His mother died pregnant too. I think he couldn’t let the same thing happen to someone else.”

“How do you know it’s not part of the rules,” Isaac asked, looking up from his hand, which had been absentmindedly drawing shapes on Ramie’s thigh. “The kanima kills murders. If Jackson killed the wife the baby would’ve died too.”

“Does that mean your father was a murder?” Scott asked, turning back to look at Isaac, who shrugged.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if he was.”

“Hold on, the book says they’re bonded, right?” Deaton cut in. “What if the fear of water doesn’t come from Jackson, but comes from whoever is controlling him? What if something that affects the kanima also affects it’s master?”

“Meaning what,” Isaac deadpanned.

“Meaning we can catch them,” Ramie said, and Deaton nodded. “Both of them.”

…

Deaton helped them come up with a plan that night, which they relayed to everyone else involved by the next day. They planned on using ketamine to take out Jackson at the rave that everyone was going to. Stiles and Ramie, being the only humans in the group, were to spread mountain ash around the whole club that the rave was at, so that not only would Jackson be trapped inside, but they would also trap whoever was controlling it.

“How did you even get tickets to this thing,” Ramie asked as she, Scott and Stiles pulled into the rave the next night.

“Your psychotic boyfriend beat some kids up for them,” Stiles mumbled. He was unusually quiet the whole ride there.

“Not very nice of you to call him psychotic when he got the tickets for you,” Ramie shot back. She heard Stiles huff from the front seat before getting out of the car. Scott suddenly took off into the club, saying something about Allison, leaving Stiles and Ramie alone.

“This plan sucks,” Stiles sighed, throwing the bags of mountain ash at the ground angrily.  Ramie was quiet for a minute, leaning against the jeep.

“Are you okay?” she asked, looking towards Stiles, who pulled the snapback off his head, rubbing a hand over his buzzcut before placing it back on, backwards like before. Ramie thought about how if she still had a crush on Stiles, the snapback would’ve been extremely attractive. She also thought that her acknowledging that it was extremely attractive could be a slight problem. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind.

“I’m fine,” Stiles huffed, picking up the bags off the ground. “Let’s just do this.”

Ramie walked next to Stiles as he let the mountain ash out of his hand slowly, making a trail behind them. He still hadn’t said another word since she asked him if he was okay.

“Sti, come on,” Ramie said, not being able to take his silence any longer. “Most of the time I have to beg you to stop talking and now I feel like I have to beg you to say anything. What’s going on?”

Stiles let out a sigh, and Ramie continued.

“You’re my best friend Stiles, you can tell me.” Stiles glanced up at her, his golden brown eyes meeting hers. She could see sadness in his eyes.

“My Dad got fired,” he said after a second. Ramie’s eyes widened.

“Wh- why? Stiles, why didn’t you say anything?” Ramie stammered, taken aback.

“Doesn’t look good for the Sheriff’s son to have a restraining order against him. And there’s too much is going on, I didn’t want to burden anyone right now,” he shrugged, not looking at her. She stopped walking and grabbed his arm so he would stop as well.

“Mieczyslaw Stilinski look at me right now,” Ramie said sternly. Stiles stopped, looking at her after a second. “You are never a burden to me. I always want to hear what you have to say.”

Stiles’ eyes softened. Ramie could swear it almost looked like he was about to cry. He looked away, looking down at the mountain ash in his hand.

“Raim,” he said quietly. “We have a problem.”

Ramie looked down at the mountain ash in his hand, and the distance they had left. There was no way they could make it.

“Remember what Deaton told us?” Ramie said after a minute.  “When he gave us the mountain ash he said we have to believe it was going to work.”

“It’s not going to work, there’s not enough,” Stiles stammered, his hands beginning to shake.

“Hey, Stiles,” Ramie grabbed his hands, holding them steady. His eyes met hers. “You can do this. You always make things work, Sti. You can do this.”

Stiles nodded, shakily, not taking his eyes off hers. She slowly dropped his hands, realizing she was still holding them.

“Just look at me,” she said, beginning to walk again. “I know you can do this. You’re the smartest person I know Stiles. You’ll make this work.”

She looked down for a second, and Stiles did too. They had made it back to where they started, the mountain ash making a full circle around the club.

“I did it,” Stiles said slowly, looking up at Ramie.

“You did it!” She yelled. Stiles jumped forward, wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

“We did it!” He said, spinning her around in a circle. They both laughed, and Stiles set her down slowly, his arms still wrapped around her.

“We should uh,” Stiles stuttered, dropping his arms. “Go check on things inside.”

Ramie nodded and followed after the boy in the flannel, her cheeks feeling hot.

…

Ramie followed Stiles though the back entrance to the club, down a hall to the room where Isaac and Erica were supposed to be keeping Jackson. Stiles pushed opened the door and Erica lunged towards them, Stiles jumping back and nearly taking out Ramie.

“Woah woah woah, it’s just us!” Stiles put his hands up, and Erica took a step back. “Freaks.” Stiles mumbled as they entered the room and Ramie followed, closing the door behind them. Jackson was sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, looking like he was out cold.

“Is he okay?” Ramie asked as Isaac stepped towards Jackson.

“Well, let’s find out,” Isaac held up his hand, putting out his claws. He reached towards him, but before he could get close Jackson, eyes still closed, grabbed Isaac’s arm, twisting it in a way that definitely caused something to break. Ramie moved forward to grab him but Stiles grabbed her wrist, pulling her back. Isaac yanked his arm away from Jackson, groaning and leaning against the wall, holding his wrist. Ramie went over to him, wincing at the sight of his mangled arm.

“Alright, no one does anything like that again,” Stiles pointed at Erica and Isaac as the latter snapped his own arm back into place, groaning as it healed.

“The ketamine was supposed to put him out,” Isaac groaned as Ramie rubbed his back.

“Yeah well apparently this is all we’re going to get,” Stiles pointed towards Jackson.

“So let’s just hope whoever is controlling him showed up tonight,” Ramie added. Stiles looked over at her with Isaac, looking slightly concerned for a second. Before anyone could say anything else, a voice came from Jackson. It wasn’t his normal voice, it sounded almost robotic.

“I’m here,” he said, his eyes now open. “I’m right here with you.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at Jackson, then looked at everyone else, who was just as lost as he was. He slowly stepped forward, squatting down in front of him.

“Stiles, be careful,” Ramie said, stepping behind him. Stiles held up a hand, cutting her off.

“Jackson is that you?”

“Us, we’re all here,” Jackson said simply. Stiles turned, looking at Ramie, who shrugged, at a loss.

“Are you the one killing people?” Stiles asked.

“We are the ones killing murderers,” Jackson said back.

“So all the people you’ve killed so far,” Ramie started.

“They deserved it,” Jackson cut her off.

“We’ve got a little rule book that says you only go after murderers,” Stiles said.

“Anything can break if enough pressure’s applied,” Jackson deadpanned.

“A fucking riddle?” Isaac said from behind them. Ramie and Stiles shushed him at the same time, and he held his hands up defensively.

“So all the people you killed are murderers,” Ramie clarified.

“All,” Jackson’s robotic voice said. “Each. Every. One.”

“Who did they murder?” Stiles asked.

“Me, they murdered me,” Jackson said, his hand slowly moving. Ramie noticed immediately.

“Stiles,” she grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back, away from Jackson.

“Okay, alright more ketamine, the man needs ketamine, come on,” Stiles stammered.

“We don’t have any more,” Isaac said, holding up the empty vial. Stiles eyes closed slowly, hanging his head.

“You used the whole bottle?” He turned his head to Isaac, who raised his shoulders sheepishly. Ramie hit both of them on the arms, as Jackson stood up slowly, then screeched at them.

“Okay, out, everybody out,” Stiles pushed Ramie towards the door, all of them running out it. Isaac slammed it shut, leaning against it with Stiles and Erica. “Find something to put in front of the door.”

Ramie turned to look for something, but it was too late. Jackson, or kanima Jackson burst straight through the wall, running away from them. Stiles took off after him, Ramie close behind. They lost him somewhere along the way as he jumped up into the ceiling, but Stiles continued to run outside, to see if he had made it out there somehow. As they made it out there Derek ran up, meeting them on the other side of the mountain ash.

“Hey, so we kind of lost Jackson but,” Stiles stopped as Isaac and Erica walked out of the club, unable to pass the line of mountain ash. “Ohmygod it’s working! We did it!”

Ramie grinned at Stiles for a second, until Derek grabbed his arm.

“Scott,” Derek murmured.

“Nope, I’m Stiles,” Stiles grinned.

“Break it,” Derek pointed to the mountain ash, ignoring Stiles’ joke.

“What, no!” Stiles exclaimed.

“Scotts dying!” Derek nearly yelled.

“What? How do you know that?” Ramie asked, stepping towards Derek.

“Ohmygod, Ramie, I just know, break it,” Derek yelled. Stiles reached down, brushing a section of the mountain ash away and Derek took off into the club, leaving Ramie and Stiles confused on the sidewalk.

[blog-sliverofjade]

Of Doms & Subs 6: At Least it Wasn’t Twilight

Pairing: Angus Hopper x OFC

Summary:  What's a submissive female to do when she fights her nature and goes on the run as a Lone wolf to avoid being assimilated into a pack?

Word count: 1411

Of Doms & Subs Master List

“Why are we watching An American Werewolf in Paris?” I asked, head tilted to one side that I distantly recognized as a faintly canine gesture.

“It’s sort of a tradition,” Alan answered.  “When someone’s newly Changed, we watch a werewolf movie just to talk all the way through it.”

“There’s no American Werewolf in Canada, but they got French Canadians, right?  Close enough,” Shane said.  Someone threw a kernel of popcorn at him, which he deftly caught in his mouth.

“Could be worse,” Mickayla said mournfully.  “They made me watch Teen Wolf.”

“I thought chicks were supposed to like that stuff!” Shane protested.

“Yeah, if you’re thirteen,” Mickayla and I said in unison.

“Do you have a teenage girl living with you, Shane?” Alan asked far too innocently.  “Because I could have sworn you had every season on DVD.”

The bickering that ensued masked the sounds of Angus entering the room, but not even the popcorn could hide his scent.  My heart beat faster when he passed behind the couch to settle in the recliner within reach of my left arm.  His de facto throne was the highest seat in the room and thus avoided any breach of protocol by anyone sitting higher than him.  I was so painfully aware of his presence that any one of the already crowded couches looked good in comparison to my seat.  Everyone who didn’t have other obligations had come.  I wasn’t sure whether it was courtesy, by design, or on accident that I ended up sitting next to the fearless leader.

The movie, surprisingly, was a good teaching tool.  They were quick to point out inaccuracies (take off your clothes, first, idiot!), many of which I already knew, as well as what laws both mundane and pack were broken.  No to mention cultural differences.  Such as: why don’t we get crappy underground raves?  It’s Seattle, why throw one when you can go find one?

Apparently they also had a cage in the basement for injured wolves and those who had temporarily lost control, like newbies.  When someone tried to suggest that it was for kinky purposes, Angus quickly shut them down.  No one even complained when Alan and I ranted about the medical inaccuracies for a good ten minutes.  (They’d all be so much raspberry jam on the sidewalk.  Did they use packing tape on that bandage?  What is it even for, anyway?  Broken nose?  Concussion?  Hiding his funny looks?)

“Reason number two: we can have a little ‘chat’ with your ex,” Mickayla said, continuing her randomly numbered list of reasons why packs are awesome, when the Big Bad Evil Guy/love interest’s ex was killed at the end.

“Uh, that’s really not necessary,” I stammered.  She looked at me skeptically.  The others quieted to listen, which made me stutter out an explanation.  “He wanted the perfect 1950’s lifestyle complete with a Suzy Homemaker waiting with dinner when he got home and a mistress on the side.  He didn’t try very hard to hide it because he thought I’d put up with it.”  There were several snorts of scornful laughter.  “He’d signed a pre-nup thinking I wouldn’t leave.  I’ll never forget the look on his face when I got everything, which was how I put myself through school.  Now he’s stuck with some nineteen-year-old he knocked up who can’t cook any more than I can.”

“I like her, can we keep her?” Alan asked of no one in particular, which elicited more good-natured jibes at his expense as well as general agreement.  Or matter that latter was just wishful thinking.  It was either that or their testosterone talking.  Probably the testosterone because the conversation turned to the various methods of disposing of bodies.

While the others debated the merits of burial at sea vs woodchippers and lye, Ellie caught my eyes with her own hazel ones before heading upstairs with several empty popcorn bowls.  I followed a moment later.

“I-if,” she stuttered, swallowed hard, then started again as she loaded the dishwasher.  Everyone else knew to leave the cleanup to Ian and Gordon as it was their turn, but she seemed to need something to do with her hands.  “What’s my timeline for making a decision?”

“The ceremony to bring a new member into a pack is done on the full moon, which is in eleven days.”  A look flickered across her face that suggested she was aware of the math, but refrained from interrupting as I gave a brief description of the ritual.  To her credit, she didn’t bat an eye at the thought of consuming my flesh.

I fell into a practiced relaxed pose in the hopes that it would put her more at ease as it often had with others in the past.  Even if she wasn’t adept at reading body language, or even consciously aware, her wolf would pick up on my cues.  I was glad that she had not yet learned to smell emotions and would have to believe what I allowed my face to reveal, which was currently wearing the mask of patient mentor.  What I felt, however, was worlds away from what showed.

“If I were to join a pack, what would be expected of me?”  I smiled at the conditionals, though they lacked the same determination as before.

“Monthly meetings.  A ten percent tithe once you find employment, which goes towards things like helping members get back on their feet, new wolves, and the like.  No one would ask you to fight, but any pack would benefit from your medical expertise.”  Her eyebrows quirked up in surprise.  “Fast healing can present its own issues, like bones that aren’t set properly.”  Soft, dusky pink lips pursed in thought as her sharp, sky-blue eyes with a touch of green and honey at the center flickered back and forth in contemplation of various scenarios.

“You already have Alan for that.”  That was not the conclusion I was expecting.

“As great as Alan is, he’s only one person, who has a full-time job,” I pointed out.  “What if, God forbid, he was hurt?  Or there were more injured than he could handle at once?”

“Does that happen often?”  Instead of appearing stricken at the prospect, or for not having considered those possibilities first, her eyes narrowed shrewdly as if she were already calculating assets and performing triage in her mind.

“Even once is too often.”  Ellie accepted that non-answer without digging further.

“Even though I have to give it up as a career?” she asked bitterly.  That was when realization hit like a hammer.  Nursing was more than a job to her.  She’d all but said that her ex forbade her to work.  Then she took his money to rebuild herself.

“Your wolf will see frightened patients as prey,” I said gently.  The dismay she tried to hide nearly broke my old, cynical heart.  “Even if the humans would let you once they figured out who you are.”

“Any specific duties for an unmated, submissive female?”  She had turned her back to me to wipe down the counters.  Her scent was a confusing mix of fear tinged with arousal.  Evidently she found her emotions bewildering as well because when she faced me again a rosy pink blossomed across her cheeks even as a furrow developed between her brows.

“Help out when and where you can as the situation calls.  As a submissive, your presence can have a calming effect on us sociopaths.”

“I think you mean ‘psychopath’,” she muttered.  A smile threatened to lift the corners of my mouth.  “And I seem to have the opposite effect on ya’ll.”

“How can you help this looney bin if you aren’t calm yourself?”  Small, white teeth worried at her bottom lip as she digested that.  I didn’t point out that the males were reacting to her like wolves in rut, which no amount of submissive energy would fix.  She was skittish enough as it was.

“I promise that I won’t touch you.”  Disappointment and relief flashed over her face like the shadow of a cloud.  To hide a small smile of satisfaction, I leaned until my nose nearly touched the soft flesh below her ear and breathed her in.  Her heart beat under her skin like a trapped butterfly.  Desire, both hers and mine, spiked sharply in the air.  “Not until you ask me first.”  I forced myself to walk away as casually as I could manage, her stare boring into my back.

[rui31]

Alpha Stiles Part 3

An update because @superfamilylove reminded me I was writing this before my masters killed my writing inspo.

I’ll try to finish this as I actually really enjoy it. Just a note; I never watched Teen Wolf passed Allison dying because FUCK THAT NOISE. So I cannot reference any of what happened afterward cuz I have no idea and I don’t know any of the character, ie Ethan and Theo?, so don’t expect them in here.

ONWARDS INTO MY BOYLOVE MADNESS

Derek spends the rest of the day in relative peace, he wanders the town until he finds the local garage. He gets hired on the spot by some harried looking kid, rambling that the regular mechanic was on mat leave and the cars we’re starting to pile up and he didn’t know shit about engines and brake mechanics and....

“What the hell even is this thing?” he asks, flailing a piece of machinery between the two of them

“The transmission,” Derek answers hesitantly, not sure if this kid is seriously like this or pulling his leg.

“Not to mention Jackson had to bring in his car for an oil change and OFCOURSE it’s the newest Ferrari, because his father bought it for him as a graduation gift. Not saying I’m jealous, but dude...” the guy ends with some gurgling noises and flops back on the desk chair, banging his head on the table softly. “Ryma will serve me my ass if I lose him as a client.”

“I can work today if you need,” Derek offers, slightly off kilter by how the guy is acting.

“You serious?” he demands. “oh my god that’s great, super great.  Dan should be coming in any time now, but Dan is old and he forgets things. He’s reliable and knows a shit ton of stuff, but I would not have him near my car.”

“So.... should I get started?” Derek asks instead of trying to discern what this kid, who’s obviously on some sort of drug, is saying.

“Yeah, sure. Let me show you around. Names Louis by the way,” and the guy, Louis, is grabbing some keys off the wall and opening the back door.

           He works on that kids, Jackson?, car first. He’s half impressed with the car also but still feels like it could never match up to his Camaro. Dan comes in around the same time he’s done, giving him a nod and walking over to another car.  They don’t really speak as they work, Dan turns on the little radio and plays some old blues music, the melodies smoothing over the jarring sounds of the electric drills and sander.

Derek turns to work on a hunkered old jeep that’s painted an obnoxious lime green next. He’s changing out the old brakes when Louis drops off some Chinese for him and Dan. The guy chats him up a bit, gushing about his girlfriend and complaining about the office work still left for him to do.

           He cleans up after the three of them, picking up the white delivery boxes and chopsticks. Derek is grateful for the food and the companionship, though he probably didn’t show it what with his face in a half frown as he fought with the jeeps old screws.

           Derek is shooed out of the garage at 8, Louis fixing up his shaggy brown hair behind his ears and his cheeks a dusty pink from excitement is rambling with nerves about his hot date. Dan pats the both of them firmly on the shoulder after lighting up a cigarette. He sets off on a slow pace into the dark and Derek doesn’t comment on the fact he hadn’t heard the man speak all day. He goes back to his own car after seeing Louis slide into a car with a curly haired girl with glasses.

           He’s back at the motel room, exhausted and fully dressed, staring at his bed and, instead of falling into it and sleeping like a normal person, he’s fighting with the anxiety that’s kicking in. Panic seeps into him and he sits on the chair in the corner of the room, cradling his forehead in his hands as he takes deep and even breaths. Meeting the alpha and getting the job still hadn’t erased the feeling of dread and engulfing loneliness. His instincts are screaming at him to stay awake, stay on guard, knowing hunters are nearby and being without his pack.

           He falls into some sort of meditation, keeping his eyes closed, he lets everything fall back to hear and smell, letting the rest of his mind rest. He comes to when there’s a knock at his door, he’s half jolting in panic when he realizes its Stiles and, by the time he opens the door, he’s back in control.

“Yooo, so I came to see you. Heard you got a job at Ryma’s place,” he grins at Derek. “You look like shit man. Did you sleep?”

“No,” Derek answers, his voice hoarse and dry.  He swallows thickly and turns back into the room, keeping the door open so Stiles can follow him in.

“You staying here?” he asks incredulously, sitting up on the coffee table.    

           Derek grunts his response as he wanders over to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He walks back into the room, wiping his mouth with the small hand towel and Stiles is squinting around the room and back at Derek. He feels his heart race for a second but chalks it off to the lack of sleep before walking over to his luggage and pulling out a spare shirt.

           There’s a shift in the room and Derek looks over his bare shoulder at Stiles, who’s twitching on the table and coughing.

“Nice tattoo,” he says to fill the silence. “What is it?”

“A triskelion,” Derek answers.

“Cool, how did you keep it there? I mean, Scott wanted to get one a couple of years ago but it faded/healed in like a day,” Stiles rambles and Derek cocks his head at him.

“You need to use fire.”

“Fire great so?”

“A blowtorch in my case and very steady hands,” Derek smirks and Stiles sighs.

“Ofcourse,” there’s silence as Derek throws his dirty laundry in the growing pile.

“Sooo....” Stiles fills in, jumping off all fluid and he’s suddenly in Derek’s space. “I know I said you’d have to speak to Scott and all, but he’s not going to be back for another couple of months. And you can’t keep living here. I’m pretty sure we exorcised a ghost at this place in highschool.”

“I’m going to find a place,” Derek tells him, his eyebrows scrunching down in confusion.

“And also are you sure you’re related to Peter because that guy was crazy and you’re...”

“Not?” Derek offers.

“Broody and you have that whole tall, dark and mysterious thing going for you,” Stiles says instead.

“I can rip your throat out with my teeth,” Derek replies, looking at Stiles sideways and the alpha breaks out into chuckles.

“Come on, you’ve met the ladies. I have some of the guys meeting us for breakfast. You don’t have work yet right?” he asks and Derek shrugs, grabbing his jacket and his wallet as they leave the room.

“Cool because Isaac has been hounding me with questions and Boyd has just been staring at me all amused and I just can’t handle them anymore.”

“It’s been a day since I got here,” Derek says and Stiles groans.

“I know right? But Scott knows how to deal with Isaac and I’m just floundering around with him,” he sighs and Derek stops his hand as it wanders over to pat him on the shoulder.

           They walk into the same diner and the waitress, Tara he remembered, is walking towards him with a warm hello honey and a smile that Derek matches without even thinking about it. She guides them over to a booth when he says others will be joining them and looks over at Stiles when the guy doesn’t say anything.

“You smiled,” he says at last and Derek barely looks up from where he’s flipping through the menu.

“I do that sometimes yes,” and he’s trying not to think about how tired he feels right now, how warm and safe in the presence of this kid, that the words on the menu are blurring together.

           He sighs heavily and looks up at Stiles when the guy remains quiet.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks and Derek smiles weakly, or tries anyways, he doesn’t know if his lips quirk up or not.

“Just tired, I haven’t been sleeping well,’ he responds.

“Why?” Stiles inquires. “I mean, I know what happened with the fire. Peter told us everything and it was basically why most of us got turned but...he killed Kate right and...”

“I’m an omega,” Derek explains, sipping his coffee when Tara brings their drinks without even asking. “Which means I don’t have the comfort of a pack as you do. You feel their presence so you know you’re safe because they’re close enough to be there if you’re in trouble. The last time I was here, my house had just burned down killing my parents and a couple of my cousins. My uncle ordered my sisters and I to leave, basically kicking us out of the pack. The place was swarming with hunters and wannabe hunters itching to put a bullet in our skulls at any sign of aggression. We barely made it out here in one piece and being back here after all this time,” Derek sighs again, grasping the cup tighter so the heat of the coffee could burn into his palms, the pain helping him focus as his eyes glow in the already bright room. “Everything has changed and yet, some things are the same. This place, the vet, it’s like there are two realities fighting in my head right now. The one I’m in and the one I left behind. The lack of sleep isn’t really helping either.”

“I can tell, those were a lot of words for guy who barely spoke the day before and dashed out of my presence,” Stiles says and Derek grins up tiredly.

“Yo Stiles,” a guy says, standing at the table. “Did you order yet?”

“Nah, Isaac this is Derek. Derek Isaac.” Stiles introduces and then there’s another guy slipping into the booth next to Derek. “That’s Boyd.”

           He nods to both and he’s suddenly more awake than before, Isaac and Stiles are arguing about breakfast foods and Boyd is silently texting on his phone, sometimes eyeing Derek sideways.

“Erica says hi,” he says suddenly and Derek fumbles out a greeting when Tara is back, taking their orders in stride and waltzing away.

“So Kira was right, he’s not like Peter at all,” Isaac says when she’s out of earshot. “I mean he doesn’t even have the crazy eyes, he just looks sad.”

“Isaac,” Stiles groans.

“No but seriously, I mean Chris said not to judge but Peter was a psychopath,” he continues undeterred. “Just wondering if it was hereditary.”

“Chris?” Derek asks and Stiles reaches over to grab Isaac, but the guy either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“Yeah, Argent?” he replies, shrugging off Stiles’ hand. “Allison’s father.”

“His girlfriend,” Boyd supplies helpfully, barely looking up from his phone.

“I’m going to kill you all,” Stiles growls, turning to look at Derek worryingly as his face shuts down.

“I knew they were still here,” Derek says and Stiles smiles tightly.

“They’re not Kate,” he supplies but Derek wants out, wants to leave because everything in him is screaming and he’s barely keeping it together.

           Boyd’s hand on his shoulder is a shock, Stiles, reaching over the table, holding unto his wrists right above where he’s clenching his hands, they’re both solid presences that give him something to center himself but he’s still shaken.

“We won’t let anything happen to you,” Stiles says and Boyd grunts in agreement.

“Why are we promising this?” Isaac asks, leaning back on the booth with his arms crossed. “Peter turned most of us, he tried to kill ALL of us, we don’t owe his nephew anything.”

“We owe him common decency,” Stiles snaps back and his eyes flash a quick red. “No one should be judged by what their families have done, you should know that best of all Isaac.”

           There’s silence and the curly haired boy frowns; the food comes at that point, breaking the silence temporarily. Tara frowns at Derek and asks if he’s alright, she doesn’t seem pleased with his quick shrug and walks away, glaring back over her shoulder at the other boys.

“Stiles mentioned you’re staying at that dingy motel,” Boyd says around a mouthful of waffles.

           Derek, focusing on his plate of eggs, grunts in response.

“I know a place, it’s not too expensive and it’s got some personality if you’re into that kind of thing,” Boyd continues and Derek stares at him sideways, still poking at the eggs.

“Eat Derek,” Stiles commands and he barely has it in him to snap back, so instead he shoves a forkful of runny eggs unto a piece of toast and then his mouth.

“Oh you mean the place Danny had that rave once?” Isaac comments, pouring a hefty amount of syrup on his pancakes.

           Stiles sighs again and turns a pleading look to Boyd.

“Yeah, it was nice,” he says instead.

“Well it held our whole grade plus most of our upper class men,” Isaac adds.

“Look can we not have the selling point of that place being that we went there for a rave like 8 years ago?” Stiles pleads.

“We can bring you there when we’re done,” Boyd supplies and Derek nods in agreement, mostly because if that place could hold a rave then it could definitely hold himself & his sisters comfortably.

           Turns out the place, when it’s not packing, is a pretty low-key apartment with an almost industrial style with its spirally metal staircase and brick walls. Derek likes it, likes the tall windows and the high ceilings, and when it turns out to cost less that his dingy apartment in New York, he doesn’t stop himself from signing the lease. His landlord is almost crying in gratitude when Derek hands him the cheque.

           The guys help him pack up his meager possessions and drop them off, but Derek has work and he’s almost grateful to leave the presence of the three guys. Not because any of them are being particularly strenuous in their interactions with him, but because he can’t handle being around people anymore.

           When he gets back home that night, he phones his sisters to tell them he got a place and tries his best to describe it as best as possible when he can’t send over some pictures. Laura sounds concerned and Cora wants him out when she finds out the Argents are still there. The three stay on the phone for a while and Derek tries his best to console the two through the distance.

           The place is barren and he’s left to curl up against a wall, facing the doorway, and his phone cradled in his hands. The place smells of the guys, of Stiles and Derek doesn’t know if it’s because of that, but he nods off.

[veinereastath]

Like if they were old lovers - John x Deputy one-shot

Yeehaw, another one.

Word count: 1576 Warnings: None. You can also read it on my AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15441507/chapters/41700185

    "Deputy, whose name I still do not know."  John murmured to the radio, comfortably positioned in his bed, pushing away a strand of dark hair from his face. "How are you feeling tonight?"

    As usual, Rook's answer was something that he had to wait for for nearly a whole minute. He wasn't sure if she was doing it out of sheer malice, or maybe she just hesitated before agreeing to start the conversation. "It... It could've been better, for sure. But why are you suddenly interested in my well-being?"  She hissed slightly, as if she were clenching her teeth. John looked at the window. It was already dark, and the clock was at tenth. What could Deputy do at this hour? 

    "I always am." His reply was fast. "And because I am also extremely empathetic, I can tell by your voice that something is wrong. Especially since you admitted that you could have felt better."  He smiled slightly, almost pressing the radio to his lips, as if he wanted to make a physical contact with his interlocutor. When he heard a gentle, guttural laugh, he involuntarily took a deep breath.

    "... You and empathy? Really?"  She was mocking him and it irritated him a bit, but it was also amusing, in a way. "What else interesting can you tell me? Is Jacob working in the orphanage in his spare time?"  She paused for a moment, and the man sensed that she hadn't finished talking yet. "Is Joseph actually a normal, mentally healthy man?"  She growled, somehow amused. John clicked his tongue in a dissaproval, stroking his right thigh with his free hand.

    "You didn't answer my question, dear."

    "Because I don't intend to."  She answered immediately, then groaned. This sound, though full of pain, made the man grab his thigh way too harsh than he should. His long, tattooed fingers dug deeply into his skin. He enjoyed it.

    "Pain." John murmured, then sighed. "I can hear it. Gunshot wound? Knife cut? Wolf fangs?" He began to list melodically, letting out a bit of trembling breath from his lungs. He would give anything to be able to see her right now, see her body. He felt alone for a long time. Deputy provided him with entertainment, but not exactly what he at some point began to count on. She began to irritate him, mainly because of... the stimuli that she woke up in his body at every next meeting, or even a conversation on the radio.

    "A Judge, yes." John shuddered when she uttered his favorite word, though not in the context in which he wanted to hear it. It would seem that she also realized what she had just said, because from her throat came out an unusual sound, as if she wanted to rebuke herself. "Lovely creature. Almost as much as its owner."

    He gritted his teeth. Envy. She was mentioning Jacob way too many times for his liking. "You consider Jacob to be charming?"  He asked, trying to remain calm and unfazed.

    "Interesting." She sounded like a purring cat. John wondered if nature had given her such a voice, or maybe she just had a great weakness to cigarettes. "I didn't say his name."

    "But you mean it."

    "Oh, do I?"  Rook chuckled, almost like a teen-age girl. "Since when all Judges belong to Jacob? I could've meant some random Hunter, you know."

    "And did you?"  She didn't answer him, but he was sure that she smiled. He didn't know hot to interpret it. He could only guess. John sighed softly, stroking the metal frame of the radio with his lips. "What's your name?"  He whispered, holding his breath. Silence fell for a few long seconds. It felt like eternity. He started to think that she won't say anything else and it's where their concversation ended. He tried so hard to get her name, wondered how it would taste. How would she react when he would call her like he should and wanted to. Calling her by the title was tiring and vapid.

    "Why do you care?"  She sounded... Sad. As if the subject of her name hurt her. John sighed dully, his fingers white with the strength with which he clamped them on the device. "My name means nothing to your actions. It's not important."

    "It means a lot, and I need it. I want it. Why are you so desperately trying to hide it from the whole world?"  He could get is from Hudson, probably. Maybe that deputy Pratt already told it to Jacob. But getting the truth from someone else would not satisfy John. He wanted to get it by himself.

    "Because life is much easier when the growing number of people I killed is attributed to my title, which has a lower value than the name given at birth."  She responded dryly. John heard a soft purr. He guessed that it belonged to the cougar that faithfully followed the woman, day and night. "Maybe you and your brothers like it when people caress your ego by assigning you more crimes, but my psyche works differently from yours. I was diagnosed with sociopathy, not with psychopathic tendencies."  She gasped, then let out a heavy breath from her lungs. He reminded himself that she was hurt, and surely heavily bleeding. Warmth in the area of his lower abdomen irritated him - he could barely restrain himself from loud groaning at the very thought of her wounded, bloodied body. Which he wanted to watch now, lying in his bed next to him.

    "Aaaaaah. Sociopath. That would explain a few things."  For example, how unfazed she seemed to be when someone was hurt. Unless they were her loved ones - and John wasn't able to count more than four of them (Hudson wasn't on that list, he realised) - she didn't seem to feel any regret at all. She didn't care. She wasn't on the side of the Resistance because she wanted to help people. No, it was because she disagreed with the Eden's Gate, that's all. In the end, the only person she truly cared for... Was herself. "Fascinating human being you are, indeed."

    "You flatter me."  His heart beat faster. "But I'd prefer that you don't shed your sick, sadistic fascination into torturing me and marking my skin."  There was a short pause. "Can you do it for me?"  

    Her request contained a strange note of sweetness that made the man feel as if he were beginning to melt. He licked his lips and narrowed his eyes. Lust. This woman was an amazing mix of sweetness, cynicism, malice and innocence. A silent killer and defender of the oppressed at the same time. "I've already marked your body, but you still haven't confessed. You're silent when you're right in front of me and tormenting me from the distance. Are you even able to sleep at night?"  His voice was almost a whisper. The conversation, which at first was supposed to be a small torture, turned into something way too intimate. Like if they were old lovers. Oh, how he wanted...

     "Sometimes." The answer was simple. "But there is always something that needs to be done around here. Sleep is just... A nice addition to my life, but not an integral part of it." 

    John swallowed hard. "Where are you, divine being?" Another murky whisper. Menacing. Combining the offer with a cold promise. Sooner or later he will find her again anyway, and then he will not let her escape. Now, however, he gave her a peaceful chance to voluntarily give in to him. He knew, however, that she wouldn't accept it. She was too stubborn. Oh, and he loved it.

    "Divine being, you say."  Deputy chuckled darkly. "Oh, John Seed, If only you weren't my enemy..."  He had to put the radio aside for a moment, feeling the sweat running down his forehead. It was too much. There was nothing in this world that he wanted more than her - and he wanted many things - and she always refused every offer he was giving her, no matter what it was. And no matter how close she was, even when he had the opportunity to touch her body, she was still somehow out of his reach. He hated her for it. He cursed the fate that it put her on his path.

    "I'm your enemy only in your head. I just want..."

    "Oh, I know what you want."  She cut him off. It surprised him, but he didn't gave any sign of it. He didn't want to give her any kind of satisfaction. Not... Yet. "And I'll tell you my little secret. I absolutely adore the way your face twists in anger, hatred and feelings of rejection everytime I say "no".  This is the last thing in this world that makes me happy, even if lasts less than a heartbeat."

    "... Snake in the garden."  He murmured, gritting his teeth. She surely smiled, even though he couldn't see it.

    "And one more thing."  Rook sighed, probably because of the pain. "Fuck you, John."

    The last words he said to the woman were a pure threat. "I wish you would."

    Deputy turned off her radio, and the last thing he heard was her silent gasp.

[benevolentsam]

Life on Mars

Characters: Eventual Castiel/Sam Winchester, Past Ruby/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Rating: Teen and Up Warnings/Additional Tags: Hurt!Sam, Car Accidents, Hospitals, Coma, Sam and Mental Health, Drug Use, Toxic Relationships Summary: After being hit by a car, Sam ends up in a coma. While unconscious, Sam finds that he has to work through hims demons - his past relationships and his issues with self worth - before he can wake up. Sam has to confront things he thought were buried away. Chapter 1 2 // Also on Ao3

Sam recognised the apartment as soon as he woke up. It wasn’t his, nor was it Dean and Lisa’s. There was a dirty mattress on the floor, bottles of liquor scattered around the room, and an open bottle of pills on the table. It could have been any crack house in America, but it wasn’t.

It was Ruby’s.

He didn’t know what he was doing on the floor of his ex-girlfriend’s apartment. Maybe Dean had brought him here after the accident. Ruby knew some pretty dodgy people — she had to know a doctor who didn’t ask any questions and who wasn’t looking for health insurance. It was starting to make sense. Except Dean hated Ruby, and would probably let Sam die before seeing her again.

In all honesty, Sam would rather die than see her again.

Ruby came out of the bathroom, her make-up smudged and her clothes covered in blood. There was a feral grin on her face.

“Ruby, what am I doing here?” Sam questioned.

“Has someone had a little too much to drink again? I told you to lay off the Jack last night, babe,” Ruby replied smugly. She came over the Sam and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I’ve missed you, Sam. You need to lose your control freak of a brother, and move back in with me.”

“Did you- did you kidnap me from the hospital?” Sam asked. She must of done. It had to be some kind of misery situation. There was no other explanation as to why Sam would go running back to her.

“What hospital? What are you on about?” Ruby sat down on the floor beside him, narrowly dodging the needles on the floor. “Sam, you came back to me because you love me, remember?”

Sam couldn’t remember. It did sound like something he’d do though. Of all the people in his life, Ruby was the only one who was there for him no matter what. The last conversation he’d had with Dean replayed itself in his head. Cas and Dean didn’t want to be friends with him. They were looking for excuses to not have to hang out with him. Of course he went back to Ruby.

“Dean doesn’t-”

“Dean doesn’t love you, I know. You explained this to me when you came knocking on my door.” Ruby completed his sentence with a smile, blood-red lips curling. “Sammy, it’s only a matter of time before you stop running away to me, and just live with me again.”

“But Cas-”

“Cas can afford to pay your half of the rent. Hell, he might actually find a roommate he wants to spend time with.” The words dripped from her lips like poison, each drop of venom burning Sam a little more. He could still feel the pain of the car crash. Even if Ruby didn’t know what had happened, she had to see the pain on him.

She liked that though — she liked seeing Sam in pain.

“Face it, Sam, I’m the only one who’s ever really cared about you. I’m the only one who ever will.”

She was right. Sam hated to admit it, but she was right. Every argument with Dean, every tear he’d shed – Ruby was the one that had been there to mop it up. Maybe she liked his pain, but maybe she just liked to nurse him better. He let her kiss him again, and again, and again, until his face was a mosaic of ruby-red lipstick. Until he was marked as hers. He was hers, and he’d always be hers, as long as she made him feel loved.

“Listen, babe, I gotta go out. I’m meeting Lucifer about a shipment order. I’ll be back before dinner,” Ruby told him. She stood up and looked around the apartment before turning back to him. “Just don’t do anything stupid. Wouldn’t want you to hurt that pretty little vessel of yours. Oh, and don’t call your brother, we both know he doesn’t want to talk to you.” And with that, she was out of the door, leaving Sam alone in a filthy apartment with nothing but drugs and alcohol around him.

The air in the apartment was stifling. Sam didn’t know if it was the mould growing on the walls or the fact that Ruby liked to hotbox the room every now and then. Back at Cas’ apartment, where he’d been living since he last broke up with Ruby, everything was clean. Sam liked clean; he liked the strong smell of chemicals that came with cleaning, and the sense of doing something good and healthy. Cas just liked things to be neat. It was one of the reasons Sam liked living with him so much.

And of course, because he could sleep in the room next door to his crush.

That didn’t matter anymore. He’d pick a day when Cas was working and sneak back to collect all his things. It was better than inconveniencing Cas with his presence anyway.

He set about cleaning up Ruby’s place. It didn’t need to be too clean — I’m meeting Lucifer for a shipment order was code for I’m buying a shit tonne of cocaine and that meant there’d be people over that night. People like Ruby, users and addicts who wouldn’t care that the walls are stained green with damp. The only reason Sam had for cleaning the apartment was for his own peace of mind, and to stop him from thinking about Cas or Dean… or something much much worse.

He fought through the pain and sat up. He had a long day.

Ruby, true to her word, was back before dinner. In fact, she entered with a bag of take out in her hands. Sam hated take out food, hated the grease sitting in his stomach, but he was in no frame of mind to argue with her about something so stupid. At least she’d bothered to go out and find him food. She had a huge smile on her face as she set the paper bag down on the floor beside the door. She locked it behind her, trapping the two of them in the apartment together.

“Sam, babe, guess who scored some meth!” Ruby lilted. Sam’s eyes widened. Of all the crazy stupid things Ruby had done, she’d not used meth; at least, not around him. Sam had heard the horror stories – hell, he’d seen some of the people that took it. But Ruby had a packet of pale pink powder in her hand, and that meant that she was going to at least try it.

“You’re not- you’re not really gonna take that, are you?” Sam asked timidly. Ruby laughed and tossed the packet towards Sam.

“Of course I am. Lucifer’s coming over later and we need to show him how well his batch works,” she grinned. She took off her jacket and threw it on the ground next to the the take out. “Do you want some, Sam? I got Chinese.” Sam shook his head. The drugs had thrown him off; just thinking about them was making him feel sick. Ruby mumbled something to herself and picked up a carton of food, practically wolfing it down.

Sam waited patiently for her to finish eating before he brought up the meth again.

“Look, Ruby, I don’t think you should do this,” Sam started.

“You? No, Sam, we’re doing this together,” Ruby replied. Before Sam could respond, Ruby had taken the bag out of his hand and was opening it up. She lined it up on the floor, and Sam was momentarily fixated on the thought that it wasn’t clean, that the floor was dirty. But that was the least of their problems. He watched Ruby roll up a one dollar bill from her pocket and use it to snort the meth. She pulled her head back up and gave Sam a gruesome grin. Blood was dripping from her nose.

“Your turn, Sam,” she said. Sam tried to protest, he did, but Ruby forcefully handed him the dollar bill. “You need to do it, Sam. Prove you love me. Prove to me that you’re thankful that I love you. I’m giving you good quality shit here, Sam, for free. I want to see you snort it. Prove that you love me.”

Dying from a drug overdose couldn’t be any worse than living knowing Dean hated him.

Sam leant over and snorted like his life depended on it.

It took a few minutes, but Sam felt his heart speed up. It was like a jackhammer in his chest, beating louder and louder, like it was in the room with them. Suddenly, everything felt so good. He stopped thinking about his brother, his dumbass roommate. He stopped thinking about how much he hated himself. Only the beautiful woman in front of him and the elation of the drug pumping through his system filled his mind now.

His heart wouldn’t stop though. It became too much pretty quickly. Pain started in his arm and moved to his back, and then his chest. Fuck, fuck!He might have been dying. He fell back to the floor and let his body stop working. This was what he’d signed up for.

The door to the apartment blew off its hinges. Somehow, Dean and Cas had found him and they were stood in the doorway where the door should have been. They were saying something, something Sam couldn’t hear. And then, like sun breaking through clouds, he could hear them clear as day.

“Sam, you’re in a coma.”

“You need to fight, Sam. You’re dying, man. You need to fight whatever’s going on in that brain of yours,” Dean begged. He seemed close to tears, and the last time Sam had seen Dean cry was when Ben was born. The time before that, was when Sam had graduated college. His brother didn’t cry often, but he was so close to crying as he stared at Sam dying on the floor. Cas stepped in for him.

“Sam, I know things seem bad but they’ll be worse without you here,” he said. “You need to get out of the coma, but first, you need to survive whatever’s going on right now.”

With Dean and Cas there, Sam managed to get his breathing under control. If they were right, if Sam really was in a coma, then he could control his dreams. He closed his eyes and concentrated, imagining a safer time when him and Dean were kids. He felt his heartbeat slow down, falling into its regular pattern.

What the hell was he thinking, taking what Ruby had offered him? He’d been down this path before, and he knew where it led. Ruby wasn’t right for him. He looked back up to Dean and Cas, who were stood over him, offering dry smiles.

He didn’t need Ruby and her drugs to make him feel better. Not anymore.

When he opened his eyes again, he couldn’t recognise where he was.

[nobodyzhuman]

Need an opinion

Hey guys, I have ch. 16 of Don’t Trust Dumbledore done. But I’m not liking Draco’s speech or lecture what ever you want to call it. Maybe it’s just me, my friend like it. So, I’m going to post the chapter, and it would be awesome if you guys would tell me what you think.

Thanks.

Chapter 16:

Draco watched as Potter practically ran out of potions class. He cursed silently. He couldn’t just chase after him. That would draw attention, so he packed away his supplies and tried to ignore how his father was watching Lupin.

He had no doubt his father was trying to piece together everything that happened. As he put his last book in his bag and left the class, he hopped his father stayed ignorant because it would cause to many problems if he actually managed to puzzle together Potter’s dynamic or Lupin’s secret.

Only when he was out side of the classroom did he pick up his pace. He had a feeling that Potter would head for their secret room. It was safe and right now that would what his instincts where calling for.

It took him longer then he would like to make to the room and when he opened the door he sighed. Potter was laying the couch his bag dropped on the floor next to him. His arm over his head and Draco could smell fear.

“Potter.” He said softly, lowing his own bag on to the floor and moving towards the Gryffindor.

“What’s happening to me?” Potter whispered.

“Your inheritance.” He answered sitting down at the other’s feet.

“But I thought that it would just make me…” He stopped.

“Make you what?”

“I don’t know…” Potter dropped his arm and looked at him. “Stronger like you or fuck clingy like back at the Leaky Caldron.” There was draw of a deep breath, “But that, that wasn’t like that.” He said softly and dropped his head back on the couch.

Draco sighed. “You’re a submissive.” Potter jerked up and looked at him, eyes wide.

“I don’t know what class of creature you fall under. But submissive are common in a few.”

“Oh god.” Potter muttered, “Please tell me I’m not going to turn into a something like Pettigrew. Weak and begging stronger wizards to protect me.”

Draco snorted. “That man is a coward. Not a submissive.”

“Explain it to me.”

He sighed, he looked at his lap, Not sure what to say to help the other. He knew Potter was confused and he wanted to help, he really did. But his father had only taught him about his own inheritance and showed the manner in which to treat a submissive had been practically beaten into him but that wouldn’t help Potter, at least not yet.

“Potter.” He picked up the Gryffindor’s legs and scooted closer, placing the legs over his own. He felt Potter stiffen. He was tempted to look up but refrained. Instead he started running his hands along the others leg in a gentle manner. The touch was slight, but he knew from experience it would help calm someone down. His father used to do it when he was younger. Back before things got bad and his father had retreated behind the cold façade he presented to the world.

“Look, I’ll tell you what I can.” He tried, “According to legend a long time ago, there was a threat to magic. Whether it was to magic its self of wizards is unknown. There aren’t many books around from that time, so everything we know has been passed down from one generation to the next. Whatever the threat was, it’s said that 13 witches and wizards gathered together and sought a new kind of power. Something to stop the threat. They must have achieved whatever it was they sot because they became powerful. More powerful they any of the others and they didn’t hide their power. Muggles that came across them mistook them as gods.” He heard Potter huff and he pinched the underside of the Gryffindor thigh. There was a yelp and a slight pull of the leg. But he held onto it, until Potter sighed and stopped trying to move away.  

“Anyways,” He continued sending the other a glare, “As time passed not only did their powers grow but it changed them. None in the same ways. Some changed physically. They grew faster, stronger, even larger. Some gained new forms they could take on at will. But each one was changed. Father says, their behavior started to become strange and it made the others nervous. Leading many to think they had become creatures, dark creatures, or some kind of creatures they hadn’t met before. They wanted to kill them. Get rid of the threat before it became one. But these wizards were too powerful. Some kind of battle came about and in the end a truce was reached.” He took a breath, trying to remember all he could about the treaties, his father had told him about.

“A series of treaties were signed. New laws and regulations were added. Things about how to treat them, how to show respect, and law set to protect them from ever being attacked again. Over the years more have been added as knowledge of them grew.” He stopped again. Looking down at Potter, who’s eyes were on him, looking interested and intense.

“And?” Potter asked.

“And,” He mimicked, “As they passed these new abilities and attributes to their children, the families kept a lot about what they had become secret. But there where things they couldn’t. Like behaviors that would trigger them. There are some that if you show them disrespect, they will lash out. It is some instinctive and they can not help it. Others are so protective or possessive of their families and mates that they will attack or kill a possible threat. The biggest thing was how were either submissive or dominate.” He felt Potter shift at the mention of submissive. “These things had to be shared with the public world because people could get hurt or killed.”

He switched his hand to Potters other leg as he felt the other teen starting to get restless., “Now see while there are some general treats, which we all, there are also some that are only know to the family that carries them.”

“As far as most purebloods know, Submissive are like the team hints submissive to their partners or family. They all tend to be caring and protective of their families and loved ones. They have instincts and characteristics that are meant to sooth Dominates. Because Dom’s are the fighters and protectors. They also have the desire and need to listen to their Dom’s  for the same reasons. If there is a threat, a Dom doesn’t always have time to explain, so when ordered a submissive will obey.” He sighed, he didn’t really know enough to explain. This was all stuff his father had told him. Besides he hadn’t even met a submissive before.

Potter was looking at him with curiosity and fear. Draco understood that fear, the idea that he would have to obey someone just because they told him too.

‘Fuck.” He thought, that was not how it meant to explain that.

“Okay, today in potions. You felt something what was it?” He asked, hoping he could give Potter an example.

“When Snape stopped me?” Potter asked sitting up a little. “I’m not sure. I went to add something to the potion and he told me to stop. But it was weird, the way he said it. It was like my body reacted before I even heard what he said. Scared the hell out of me.”

“Severus’s mother ‘s family comes from one of the 13 families. They don’t have a dominate or submissive dynamic like some of the others, but they are known to trigger certain submissive behaviors because they give off the same presences and a dominate. Sev saw you were about to do something potentially dangerous and reacted. When he told you to stop, it set of your instinct to listen to him. Understand?” He asked.

“So, if he gives me an order I have to obey? What the fuck? What if someone orders me to do something against the law or myself?” Potter started to move  ready to jump off the couch, probably to pace and freak out.

Draco grabbed both legs, “Stop.” He said letting his own dynamic out and Potter stiffened.

Then there was a fist flying at his face and he had to let go of the legs to dodge it. He slipped of the couch and raised his want placing a shield between the two of them.

Potter only hit the shield once with his fist before he stopped.

“What the hell, Malfoy?”

“I was showing you.” He said in his own defense

“Showing me what?” Potter yelled.

“That you have the desire to obey but there is a choice.” He said, calmly.

The Gryffindor stopped glaring at him and seemed to be consider what he said.

“But I still stopped.” He said after a few seconds.

He sighed, “Only long enough for you to realize you didn’t want too.”

When he was sure Potter wasn’t going to take another swing at him, he dropped his shield.

“You know its not all scary or bad. Think about how you felt when your werewolf got all worried about protective of you?” He said grinning.

“What do you mean?” Potter asked moving to sit back on the couch. This time his sat facing front his feet on the floor and his head in his hands.

“Lupin’s wolf probably smelt your fear when Sev ordered you and he reacted. He wrapped around you like a wolf protecting his cub, probably confused him too. It helped didn’t it?” He asked sitting next to the other teen.

Potter nodded, “He felt safe.” He muttered out.

“Fuck.” The brunette muttered after, “I need to know more about all this.”

Then Potter was up and rushing out of the room.

Draco watched him for a second before he rolled his eyes and got up to chase after him. Though as he left the room and noticed Potter nowhere to be seen, he regretted hesitating. It didn’t take him more then a thought to guess that Potter was headed for the Library. So, he rushed after him.

He caught up to him in a hallway a short distance from the library.

“Evan.” He was carefully to shout as he closed the distance between them.

“Look I know its scary and we will figure it out okay.” The other teen stopped and looked at him.

“How? I have no one I can asked about it.” There was a soft smell coming off Potter that Had him wanting to wrap him in a hug. He closed his eyes and took a small step back.

“You could talk to Lupin.” He offered, because Lupin was a know it all and he was also someone that Potter trusted. The Gryffindor sighed.

“He would ask to many questions.”

“So, don’t answer them.” It what he would do. Get the information he needed and not give anything in return. But he had a feeling that wouldn’t sit well with Potter.

“Then why would he answer mine?” Potter snapped at him.

“Because he’s a professor?” Potter actually smiled at that.

“Not yet, he isn’t.” The smile faded a little.

Potter chuckled, “Imagine that conversation, hey Remus, you’re brilliant and I kind of know you’re a werewolf want help me learn about these stupid new instincts I’ve got?” Potter shook his head still grinning.

Draco glared at him, “I wouldn’t ask him like that.” He huffed, “He’d probably eat you.”

That earned him a glare of his own from Potter, “Remus wouldn’t eat me, or anyone else.”

“So, ask him.” He tried again.

“Why don’t you just teach me?” Potter actually pouted at him. It was annoying.

“Because you idiot, all I know is how my own instincts react to you and how I’m supposed to treat you.” He felt bad about losing his temper, but he really didn’t know anything more then what he had already told Potter.

“Come on.” He said reaching out and taking Potter’s arm. Dragging him off towards the library. Maybe they would get lucky enough to find a few books that would give some useful information and help calm the chosen one down.