#like Oh man! we’re all werewolves now? that’s cool as hell. why are we even fighting?

[floral-hex]

Werewolf movies are so stupid. “Oh, I’ve got to kill the beast that bit me so I can be human again.” No, I’ve got to find them so we can make out sloppy style. Thanks for turning me into a puppy. I love you.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Forgive, But First Fun - Nandor x f(vampire) reader

Summary: After getting left behind to fight off a pack of werewolves on your own, now mad at Nandor, you and Nadja have decided a little night out couldn’t hurt.

Warning: slight angst, fluff, fun times, and a tiny smut mention

Masterlist

Trudging angrily through the manors wooden doors, face stern and almost scary enough to put the fear of God into anyone. Your boots stomp into the large opening and onto the wooden floor boards as Gullimero, Nandor, and the documentary crew follow you in.

Your cloak is ripped and dirty as it lays in a pathetic black heap of cloth in Gullimero’s arms, your hair not looking any better, not to mention your face and arms that have various cuts paired with grass smudge marks adoring your skin. All in all you look like a hot mess.

“What the fuck happened to you lot? You’ve been gone all night.” Questions Laszlo as he walks into view from out of one of the hallways, his eyes scanning over a perfectly clean and handsome Nandor, then over to the dirty crew and disheveled Guillermo who’s got some leaves stuck to his hair.

“I don’t know.” You snap sarcastically, “How about you ask Mr. Dodgy-shit-stick over there.” Referring to Nandor who’s looking anywhere but you, keeping as silent as ever.

Gullimero looks between you and Nandor, then back at a confused Laszlo. “Oh, um they’re not speaking to each other right now.”

“And why the fuck not?”

Guillermo sighs before leaning towards Laszlo, “Nandor wanted to graffiti where the werewolves live and Y/N said he’d get caught and then Nandor said no I won’t and then he did.”

Laszlo raises a curious brow, “That’s it?”

“Oh, um....” Guillermo awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, suddenly pulling off a green leaf, “then they chased us to the park and when the pack closed in on us Nandor turned into a bat and left us behind so Y/N had to fight one of them off so we could escape and now we’re here.”

“Well that sounds rather exciting.”

“Not at the time.” Whispers Guillermo to no one in particular as he glances over at the camera.

“Huh,” Mutters Laszlo thoughtfully, scratching his beard as he thinks of how to help this situation, “well if you two dingbats aren’t talking to one another I believe Nadja needs you Y/N. Something about....well actually I’m not entirely sure.”

Perking up ever so slightly at this positive news, you cross your arms over your chest defiantly, “Well since someone does, I’ll be going then.” You grumble with a low growl at your Nandor who’s refusing to make eye contact while he stares frustrated at the floor.

Nodding in acknowledgment, Laszlo watches you stomp angrily up the steps before turning his head over to Nandor who’s now watching you leave with big sad eyes.

“Alright why’d you do it?” Interrogates Laszlo with a raised brow.

“Do whaaat?” Replies Nandor defensively, his once high and mighty aurora reappearing in an instant.

Rolling his eyes, Laszlo sets a hand on his hip sassily, “Well I sure as hell don’t want an angry Y/N wandering around this old place for the next however the fuck it takes you both to make up....in however fashion that may be. So I ask again, why’d you puss out and flee like a mangy opossum?”

Pursing his lips together in apprehensive embarrassment, Nandor mutters to himself before finally crossing his arms over his broad chest and sighing, “Because......I....I don’t know I panicked!” Exclaims the large vampire, causing Laszlo to start laughing. “Why are you laughing?”

Wiping a fake tear from his eye, Laszlo lets out a few more chuckles before finally composing himself, “My good man that is the second saddest thing I’ve ever heard. The first being when one of my many victims offered me one of their rare and exclusive Poki-muns card which I still have no idea what the fuck they were on about. Anyways, doesn’t matter, all I’ll tell is that you better make it up to her.”

“But she’s scary when she’s angryyy.” Whines Nandor with a frown.

“That’s all women my young pup, but since your lovely lady is a vampire she’s more dangerous.” He says while giving Nandor a kind pat on the back, “So uh, stay safe out there.” Adds Laszlo before turning and walking down the hallway leaving Nandor with his thoughts, Gullimero, and the documentary’s camera crew.

“What are you all looking at!” Snaps Nandor to the rest of the room.

——

“Oh my goodnessess that’s awful, my poor dark angel.” Soothes Nadja as you take a moment from your long and needed rant about the adventures in the park and Nandor’s cowardly stupidity. “That big hairy rhino doesn’t deserve you Y/N.” She reasons honestly, doing her best to make you feel better, knowing all to well the level of competent decision making skills of the other two vampires in the house.

“I know.” You mutter in agreement, your body tense and agitated as you pace back and forth in front of her as she sits in a chair, “Fucking beautiful idiot prick horse-fart of a husband. Urgghhh!” You proclaim loudly while throwing your hands into the air angrily, causing the furniture in the room to screech backwards across the old flooring at your outburst of vampiric energy. Nadja’s long obsidian hair blowing backwards as you do so while she keeps seated, unflinching.

Face softening, she gives you a sympathetic smile, “Oh my lovely fierce lioness, I know exactly what will make that sad little frown turn into a happy one.” Beams Nadja with an excited clap of her hands.

Hugging your sides, you let out a frustrated huff before giving your old friend a shrug, “What do you have in mind?”

——

“So we’re at the carnival!” Claps Nadja in delight as she smiles at the camera, “This will hopefully relieve Y/N’s pent up angers and keep her mind off of Nandor.....for now.” She adds a bit uncertainly.

“HA HA take that fuckers!” You shout joyfully from behind her, the camera panning over to you at the ball toss where you’ve been knocking down plastic bottles with a rubber ball. The stall owner cowering in the corner as he shields himself with a stuffed zebra.

The camera focuses back on Nadja, “I think it’s going really well so far.” She confirms with a convincing grin. “Relieving all that..uh....rage.” 

After winning a stuffed snake taller then you and deciding to wear it as a strange fashionable scarf, you and Nadja are wandering the carnivals streets while people watching to pass the time.

“So that’s why I never walk on the roof after 3am when I’ve had homeless man’s blood.” Rambles Nadja as your thoughts about Nandor come trickling down into your brain and nose. Huh, strange, must be cause you’re still wearing a thin red scarf of his.

No, stop thinking about him.

“Good lesson learned then,” You add with the flash of a smile before nudging her shoulder gently, “hey you wanna watch me win you something cool?”

Perking up in an instant, Nadja smiles a devilish fangy grin as she stops to eye up the multiple game stalls, “Why I would be delighted my dear Y/N, how about....um, oooh I want that giant tropical fishy with the long whiskers over there.” Points Nadja as your eyes travel over to the game stall with the large prizes.

It’s a game that requires the individual to shoot an arrow directly on three different sized bullseye’s stationed at various heights. Smiling like an idiot, you nudge your vampiric acquaintance in agreement, the both of you quickly swaggering over to the carnival game and it’s plush flashy prizes just screaming to be won.

“Hello good sir, my skilled roommate Y/N here is going to win me that fish.” Beams Nadja proudly as the teenager jumps off his chair to greet the two of you.

He smells like weed but surprisingly looks decent all things considered, “Uh yeah alright, two bucks for three arrows, hit every target directly on the middle red mark and if you make it on the bonus poster on the far back wall then you’ll have a chance to win that fish, good luck.” Mumbles the kid unenthusiastically as you slide him the cash.

Picking up the shitty yet still functional carnival bow, you give Nadja a wink before fitting an arrow in the nock and pulling back, lining up the shot and releasing directly into the first target to the left. Smirking to yourself you quickly draw again, hitting your second mark just as intended. Pays to be a skilled archer huh.

“Damn that’s pretty good aim.” Nods the teen as he watches in awe as you fit another arrow, releasing and punching a hole in the middle of the third target.

Nadja claps in excitement from behind you, “Yes! Win me that colorful fat bitch my feisty lioness!”

Standing like a warrior ready for battle with your bow in hand and wind blowing in your face, the kid almost drops the arrow he hands you for the winning shot as he practically swoons.

“Get those scissors ready, that fish is mine.” You growl in determination while picturing Nandor’s head as the final target, drawing back, you let the arrow fly straight into the bonus target. Winning Nadja her giant fish plushy.

“Yessss!” Shouts Nadja in delight as you drop the bow onto the table like a bad bitch before eyeing up the kid with a raised brow, “We’ll be taking the fish now.”

Wide eyed he almost falls off his chair, “Wait um, that’s the last one...I didn’t think, uh, my boss doesn’t want me to give away those ones.” He stutters out.

“What!” Snaps Nadja, “Then why are they just hanging there? You lied to us you little shit!”

“I’m sorry.” He pleads apologetically, “That’s what my boss told me. And no one ever wins the big prizes anyway so I didn’t think...”

“Well your boss he can eat a big horse turd cause I’m taking that fish.” You growl before jumping up and unhooking the fish from its perch above your heads, handing it to a practically glowing with joy Nadja who immediately hugs the thing.

Sticking your tongue out at the teen, you and Nadja turn to leave before a boney hand is suddenly on your shoulder, twisting around in an agitated instant, your face is mere inches from the wide eyed boy as he attempts to look even a tad bit threatening.

“No.” Is the only thing that slips from your tongue before your hand shoves him back, his whole body going air bound into the back of the carnival tent while the kid lets out a panicked scream.

“Ooooh Y/N that was very sexy of you.” Smirks Nadja while wiggling her dark brows, “Too bad a certain cowardly lion wasn’t here to see it.”

Petting the stuffed toy snake around your neck absentmindedly, you smile back a fangy grin, “Yes. Too bad.”

Continuing on your late night stroll through the carnival you both pass by random strangers, families, elders, children, and lovers all minding their sweet business completely unawares to the dark supernatural world walking right past them.

Although you’re quite enjoying this time spent with your best friend in the whole wide world, a low dull feeling of emptiness can’t help but creep into your undead being the more you catch sight of new and old couples walking together.

Sensing your growing sadness, Nadja nudges your shoulder playfully to gain your distracted attention, “Hello in there my black rose, what is on your mind?”

Holding the snake close to your body, a small smile creeps its way onto your face knowing she’s looking out for you, though it’s gone soon enough, “Oh you know....uh....blood.” You mutter unenthusiastically, trying to keep your thoughts away from Nandor and how much you miss him right now.

“Blood is it? But we just fed before attending the carnival.” Inquires Nadja in confusion as she keeps a normal pace at your side while the two of you follow the sidewalk past various shops and restaurants. “What is actually plaguing your mind my dear one?” She wonders with a frown, not keen on seeing you upset and in a grey mood.

Biting your lip anxiously, though not hard enough to draw blood, you walk past a couple more people before your eyes catch the sight of a small black bat disappearing behind a corner building just up ahead.

Squinting your eyes, your nose suddenly catches the scent of someone very familiar, “Nandor?”

Turning her head to face you, Nadja’s brows furrow in puzzlement, “What? No my sweet hurricane, forget that mangy old bear he’s not important right now.” Urges Nadja as she looks forward, suddenly surprised to catch a glimpse of someone who looks a lot like Guillermo racing behind the same corner you saw the bat fly behind. “Okay um what the fuck? Did you see that too?”

Glancing at Nadja you nod before quickening your steps as she does the same, her skirts flowing as she tries to catch up with you, though you’re much faster and with lack of annoying dress material, “Wait! You’re too fast.” Yelps Nadja.

Ignoring her protests you book it down the sidewalk like a maniac, almost running into a jogger before skidding round the corner of the brick building and coming face to face with a wide eyed Guillermo who gasps in surprise. Nudging him to the side, your eyes immediately fall upon the nervous fangy grin of your Nandor.

He gives you a shy little wave before shuffling awkwardly in place, awaiting your rampage of verbal and possibly physical assault that he’s certain is in the near future.

Taking a deep breath, you cross your arms over your chest defensively, “Were you following me?”

“Um, well.....I might have been....but only to make sure you were okay.” Mutters Nandor honestly, eyes shifting from you to the ground nervously as he awaits your wrath.

Pursing your lips together in thought, you shake your head before taking off the stuffed toy snake and holding it firmly in your hands. With a low growl do you grasp the snake in your right hand and hold it back like you might swing at any moment.

“You’re a fucking nincompoop you know that right?” Slips from your mouth without an once of anger lacing your words, instead do you hand the snake to Gullimero as Nandor watches in puzzled fear.

Taking a swift step forward, you point a finger into his strong chest while looking sternly up at him, “Racing off and leaving me too fight that angry bitch all by myself, and now following me when I needed a break from you! Nandor....... you’re something else.” You add with a shake of your head.

“Yes I know, and I’m sorry my love.” Smiles Nandor with saddened eyes, “I promise to keep you save from now on and fight off any werewolf who tries to hurt you....even if I am scared.”

Taking a step back, you can’t help the smirk that forms onto your face at his sweet words of forgiveness and sincerity. You know how much he fears werewolves and that he fled the scene thinking you were planning on following too, not realizing that you might actually give a shit about Gullimero’s and the crew’s lives.

“Oh my dear puff dragon,” You declare softly with a small smile, reaching both hands out to grasp his own, “I forgive you.”

Nandor’s face breaks out into the biggest and happiest grin you’ve seen since his last birthday when he walked into your shared crypt only to find you naked and holding a bushel of red roses while seated seductively on his coffin.

“Oh that’s fantastic because I was really missing you.” Reveals Nandor with a gentle squeeze of your hands. “Laszlo and Guillermo can’t make me laugh nearly as much as you can, they’re honestly rather boring.” He says before leaning in closer to whisper, “and not very attractive to look at either.” Causing you to crack another grin and your undead heart to fill with butterflies. 

Chuckling you reach up with one hand to pull his collar closer to you and a second later do your lips clash sweetly against one another in a heated moment of passion. He smiles into the kiss before moving to pull you in closer with both of his hands, one slipping low to cheekily pinch your round bottom.

Feeling him against you once again has to be the best sensation in the whole entirety of the world even if you’ve only been separated for a couple of hours. You absolutely love the way his fingers dig into your back and bum with an animalistic eagerness that’s slowly starting to drive you insane. Oh, the things he does to you.

Especially how his tongue slips into your mouth with ease while you tug at his hair long dark locks. “Y/N!” Suddenly shouts Nadja.

“Nandor!”

Begrudgingly pulling away, you turn around to face the confused lady vampire while Nandor hugs you from behind, happily smirking at her, knowing she can’t do anything to hurt him now. “Yes Nadja.” You answer.

With the fish plushy hung over her shoulder, her brows furrow in confusion, “What the fuck are you doing? I thought you were mad at him?”

“Yeah well, I was starting to really miss him and also I’m kind of horny now so.” You reply with a shrug as Nandor hugs you tighter, resting his bearded chin against your head while Nadja huffs in defeat.

“Alright. See you at home then.” Adds Nadja before turning towards Guillermo and shoving the giant carnival fish into his arms, “Hold this Gizmo I’m going home.” Then just like that she’s gone in a black wispy poof, flying away in bat form towards the vampire resistance on Staten Island.

“Okay then.” Mutters Gullimero as he looks up at the dark sky.

Feeling a wet kiss on the side of your face and neck you smile before turning around to face your dear husband, “Shall we take flight to seek out our bed chambers?” You speak slyly in a soft yet seductive voice.

“Yes.” Grins Nandor with a flash of lust and excitement before turning his attention over to Guillermo, “Hey Guillermo I’m leaving to make passionate love to my wife so don’t bother us or I will have a rat shit in your pillowcase. Okay?”

You giggle to yourself as Gullimero’s cheeks redden while he side eyes the camera, “Understood master. Have fun.” Squeaks out the loyal familiar as he stands there awkwardly with his hands full of two carnival prizes.

Nandor sneakily squeezes your bottom once more as he gives Gullimero a knowing smirk, “Oh, we will.” Then a second later you two are flying high above the city in bat form, ready to make love to your sweet Nandor for probably the twentieth time that week.

Down below the camera pans over to Gullimero as he blinks, “Well uh, I have these things now..” He says, holding up the fish, “and I am so not looking forward to cleaning up their mess.......again.”

[the-galaxy-collector]

heart/beats

Pairing: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

Word Count: 2.1K

Warning(s): fluff, sick stiles, derek hale is bad at feelings

Summary: Stiles gets sick while the gang is away. Derek comes back to check on him. 

A/N: I think as is becoming common for me in the Teen Wolf fandom, this just poured out of me with no prior warning and I regret nothing. 

Stiles stood up, or he tried, before his body forced him to sit back down on the edge of his bed. He’d been trying to work up both the strength and the courage to take a shower for the past thirty minutes, but he was still here. In the exact same position. Trying not to puke all over his pajamas. 

A very attractive look, if he did say so himself. 

He closed his eyes and willed the room to stop spinning, but he knew it was pointless. He’d been sick for the last two days and whatever the hell this shit was, it didn't seem to be going anywhere. 

Everyone was gone too, which made it worse. They were off saving the world from… something. He couldn’t remember now. Something way more important than Stiles, though. And he wasn’t bitter about it. He knew what they were doing was a big deal. It was just that right now he wanted chicken soup like his mom used to make and someone to tuck him back into bed. 

After a shower, he reminded himself. The shower was still a must. 

Stiles took a deep, steadying breath and forced himself up with shaky limbs. He held out his arms, forcing himself to remain balanced and upright, as he started to walk forward gingerly. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

He yelped as his eyes popped back open at the noise. He didn’t know he wasn’t alone, and his heart was racing uncomfortably as he clutched his chest now over it. 

“What the fuck am I doing?” He gulped. “What the fuck are you doing? Why are you here?”

“You’re sick,” Derek explained bluntly. 

“Yes, I am aware of that,” Stiles bit back. “Go. I’m fine.”

“You definitely are not. We need to go to the hospital, Stiles.”

“We need to go to the hospital, Stiles,” he mocked in a high-pitched voice. “You sound like that, you know.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Derek. You guys are off, ya know, saving the world or whatever. And I’ll be fine. Just go help them.”

“They don’t need my help.”

“And neither do I,” Stiles insisted. 

“Why are you like this?” he said, a smile in his voice. “You make me crazy. You know that, right?”

“No,” he replied sarcastically. “Really?”

When he went to roll his eyes at Derek’s stubborn nature, like he’d done a million and a half times, his head pulsed suddenly with a headache so severe it caused him to fall to his knees. Derek was by his side within seconds, his hands on either side of his face as he forced Stiles to look at him. 

He pulled back his eyelids one at a time, and whatever he saw there made him hoist Stiles off the floor without a word, and carry him from the room. Stiles wanted to put up a fight, tell Derek to put him down, that he was going to be fine. It was just the flu or something non-lethal to teenagers, but pressed up against Derek’s chest like this was warm and comfortable and he found it very difficult to hold other thoughts in his brain right now. 

Derek took him straight outside and propped him up in the front seat of his own car before buckling him in and rushing around to the driver’s side. He knew how much Derek hated the Jeep, which meant that he either was doing it for Stiles’ sake or because he had run all the way here without his own car because it wasn’t fast enough. Stiles wasn’t sure which one was sweeter. 

“Stiles, I swear to God,” Derek growled, “if you die, I’m gonna kill you.”

Stiles snorted his laughter despite the pounding in his head, currently radiating out from behind his left eye. 

“When’s the last time you ate?” Derek asked softly. 

Too softly. Like he was actually worried. Which stressed out Stiles more than he thought it would. Or should. 

Stiles shrugged his answer, and even that tiny movement sent a jolt of pain down his spine. But he wasn’t lying. He honestly couldn’t remember when he had put food in his mouth last, which was probably not great. 

Derek growled again, and while it was affecting Stiles like it always did, the dull ache covering his entire body pushed any stupid, horny thoughts out of his brain. 

At least for now. 

He knew they’d be back, especially if Derek was going to stick around. Stiles sort of hated that. Especially since Derek could tell. Hiding things from werewolves, as he’d learned, was not possible. It wasn’t awkward at all. 

Yep, he definitely hated that. 

Derek continued to slam his foot and the gas pedal all the way to the floorboard as he drove, but it didn’t do any good. It never did. The Jeep was ancient, one of the things Stiles loved about it, and it wasn’t ever going to go faster than this. But Derek was wonderfully impatient, often with Stiles, or things that involved  Stiles. 

Another endearing quality that would normally make his heart all aflutter. But right now, he was in too much pain. 

The sunlight streaming in was making his head hurt worse, though, so he laid it down on the console in between him and Derek and tried not to focus on the fact that the traditionally very grumpy man was rubbing Stiles’ leg absentmindedly as he made his way through the streets of Beacon Hills. 

Derek had never been one to touch anyone for any reason, so clearly Stiles was dying. Or Derek thought he was. He couldn’t think of any other reason why he might be doing that, but again, he had no strength left to even ask.

Stiles didn’t think he was ready for the answer. Or, more appropriately, he knew he wasn’t ready for the brush off. 

Stiles half expected Derek to pull straight into the emergency room bay where only the ambulances are supposed to go with the way he was acting, but he found a normal spot. And just like when they got into the car, he rushed around and helped Stiles out. Like being away from Stiles for even the shortest amount of time was too much for Derek to handle. Yeah, Stiles was dying and Derek felt bad for him. There were no other explanations.

He even tried to carry him bridal style again, but Stiles managed to put his foot down. 

Well, not literally. But he made it clear that wasn’t happening in front of all these people. 

He had some dignity left.

The harsh fluorescents assaulted his eyes worse than the sunlight, and he found, once again, that he needed to slam his eyes shut to keep from hurling all over himself. And Derek. 

“Oh my God,” Melissa asked from somewhere nearby. “What happened?”

“Well, my idiot has been sick for the last two days and he didn’t call anyone and now I’m afraid he’s dehydrated and about to pass out.”

Melissa giggled at Derek’s assessment as she ushered them back to what Stiles was sure was a room, but all he could concentrate on was the fact that Derek had said my idiot. My idiot. Like Stiles belonged to him. 

Not that Stiles would complain if that were true. 

Derek put him down on the bed as soon as the door shut behind them and dimmed the lights, allowing Stiles to open his eyes again. Melissa was already rushing around getting things set up as Derek forced him to lay down. He hadn’t even stopped to put shoes on, so when he pulled the covers up to Stiles’ chin, he couldn’t really protest. 

Too much anyway. 

“Derek, stop,” he said, pushing his hands away. “I’m not an invalid.”

Derek rolled his eyes and sat down in a chair, pulling it up as close to the side of Stiles’ bed as he could get without actually being in the bed. 

“All right, Stiles. You ready?”

He nodded as he felt the coolness from an alcohol prep pad next and then hissed loudly as the IV slid into his arm. No matter how many times he’d been forced to do this, it didn’t get easier. And it should be by now, he reasoned, since hanging out with werewolves had some disadvantages. Not many, but some. If you were unlucky enough to be the only human anyway. 

Stiles didn’t miss the way that Derek flinched a little at his pain, though, causing his eyebrows to pull in the middle. He was getting more confused, and more concerned, by the second. 

Something was definitely going on. 

“Honey, I’m gonna take some blood, give you some fluids, and bring some food. Do you think you can eat?”

Stiles shrugged again, swallowing hard as his mouth filled with saliva. The thought of eating anything made his stomach do a flip, which probably wasn’t a good sign, but he could try. He certainly knew he should try. 

“I can give you something to help you sleep, if you wanna do that instead, but we’re gonna have to wake you up in, like, an hour to try to get something in your stomach. Or I’m gonna have to feed you some Ensure.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose. “Like they give old people?”

Melissa nodded. “No. Just knock me out and then wake me up later. I promise I’ll try. But do not give me that shi… stuff.”

It didn’t matter how old he got, cussing in front of Melissa always felt wrong somehow. She just laughed quietly, though, and shook her head as she finished hooking him up to everything, forcing Derek to move only when it was absolutely necessary. 

A couple minutes after she pushed something directly into his line, he started to feel sleepy. Like actually sleepy. Not this fitful mess he’d been enjoying for over 48 hours. 

And he let his eyes close without a word. 

He couldn’t be sure if it had been a few minutes or hours, but when he started to wake back up, he heard Derek’s soft voice beside him. He sounded like he might be talking to someone, but since Stiles’ eyelids were still way too heavy to open, he just listened. 

As the grogginess slowly lifted, he noticed Derek was holding his hand. Actually holding his hand. In both of his. His head and, more importantly, his lips were resting next to Stiles’ skin. He could feel Derek’s breath.  

Wait, am I dead? 

“Does he know yet?” Melissa whispered. 

“No,” Derek said, just as quiet. 

“When are you gonna tell him?”

“Well, I came back to do that and he was about to pass out. I got distracted,” he explained, exasperation taking over momentarily. “But I guess I knew something was wrong.” 

“Of course you did,” Melissa insisted. “He’s your mate.” 

Mate?! 

Okay, Stiles was definitely dead. Or dreaming. Hopefully dreaming. At least that way he could still wake up. 

Melissa didn’t wait for Derek to respond before she asked another question. “Talk to Noah yet?” 

“Yeah.”

Once again, Derek lapsed into silence. But it wasn’t long before Melissa got irritated with his lack of information on the topic. 

“And?” she huffed.

“He told me he’d kill me if I hurt him.”

She laughed again, still as softly as before. Stiles could hear her walk back to the door, enjoying her little private joke.

“Well, you’re safe,” she said, pausing at the threshold. “We both know you’re not capable of that.”

“Mhmm,” he answered. 

“Derek?”

“Yeah?” he asked, moving his head to the side.

And suddenly Stiles had a new thing he hated now. The way Derek sounded asking that one question. It was vulnerable, like Derek’s entire nervous system was on the outside. All exposed and raw. He wanted very much to get out of this bed and protect him, but that didn’t make any sense. Derek didn’t need to be protected. It was Derek. 

“You’re gonna be great,” Melissa declared. 

And then she left him with that, allowing the door to close behind her without waiting for him to argue. 

After a few seconds, Derek cleared his throat. “How, uh, much of that did you hear?”

Stiles forced himself to remain as still and quiet as possible, not even allowing his breathing to pick up. He would give Derek an out. 

“I can hear your heartbeat, Stiles,” Derek explained. “I know you’re awake.”

Stiles couldn’t help but smirk. It was his go-to response, sure, but it also seemed to fit the occasion. 

“Mate, huh?” 

Derek groaned loudly and Stiles opened his eyes slowly. “When did you plan on telling me, Sourwolf?”

[come join all the Teen Wolf fandom shenanigans over at the Beacon Hills Preserve Discord Server]

[sonnetthebard]

Sypaul getting ice cream?

You know that SAF Horror Movie post that was supposed to be headcanons and I wrote it into a oneshot instead? Yeah, I'm back at it. Look, there's nothing I love more than those two wholesome gay werewolves. Genre: Fluff/ Romance Words: 2054 TL;DR: Paul and Sybilus go out to get ice cream? Is it a date? Not officially. Could it be? Very possibly. TW: There's literally none. It's all wholesome. It’s just a lot of gay panic.  ________________________________________________________

Paul sighed, walking down the streets aimlessly. He was back in Connor Creek, just for a visit. He liked to visit as often as he could- especially around the full moon. It made things a *lot* easier on him. Because even if he hadn't gone full werewolf yet, he did still experience a lot of the struggles that came around that time of month. It was good to be around other wolves- especially Desmond. And of course with the silver reserves, most of the less-than-ideal urges that came up that time of month were kept at bay. The full moon happened to be in two days, so... here he was again.

He wasn't quite sure where he was going. He was just walking, a bit bored. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he pivoted... so quickly that he fell flat on his ass. Smooth, Paul. Even worse: It was Sybilus. Sybilus, the one person he didn't want to see anything like him flat on his ass. Paul had developped feelings for Syb. He had always though Syb was cool, but... he'd started to catch himself daydreaming. He was good looking, sweet, smart, and... god, he had the coolest name! Paul hadn't meant to fall so hard, but... damn. Both men blushed at the situation they found themselves in. Paul felt bad, reacting like that. He was a bit jumpy... especially with the full moon so soon. Sybilus offered him a hand gently, and Paul took it, standing up.

"T-terribly sorry to have startled you." Sybilus blushed. "I, um..."

"Nah, my bad." Paul chuckled softly. "I'm just jumpy."

"I only meant to say hello... and ask you if you had any t-time- ah! P-p-plans?" Sybilus bit his lip nervously.

"Well... hello." Paul smirked. "And no I don't. Why?"

"I-I was thinking p-p-perhaps we could go into town." Sybilus proposed. "Not this town... the r-real city. M-m-maybe get something to eat?"

"Oh... I actually just had lunch at the Dead Canary." Paul told him. Shit. What was he doing? He actually wanted to go out with Syb.

"We could get ice cream, then. For d-dessert." Sybilus offered.

"Oh yeah! I would be so down for that!" Paul grinned.

"I only say we go into town b-b-because... I-I was going to suggest ice cream anyways. W-w-we don't have a-any real i-i-icecream places here." Sybilus sighed, walking with Paul. They now knew where they were going. To his car. "I-I would start one myself, but I'm rather busy with my other work."

"Maybe I should move here and start one." Paul thought aloud.

"Oh, Paul... y-you've got a very important job." Sybilus shook his head. "We need people like you t-t-to keep sharing the important news with the world."

"Oh yeah, but... I could podcast from up here. Drive into the city to record when I need to..." Paul theorized.

"Well... if you wanted, we could live together." Sybilus offered. "I-I mean you could live a-at my house. You're welcome."

"You know, I'm genuinely considering this." Paul chuckled, climbing into the car. "This could be fun. And it makes sense for me to be here, right? Why just... keep visiting for full moons?"

"You make a v-v-valid point..." Sybilus considered.

"Are you actually cool with me crashing with you?" Paul checked. "Because like... it makes sense, with the two of us being wolves."

"O-of course." Sybilus assured him, starting the car. "And you're right."

"Well that settles it. I'm moving to Connor Creek, running an ice cream shop, and working on my podcast from here." Paul decided.

"M-maybe you should think it over a little bit m-m-more." Sybilus chuckled, driving down the road.

"Yeah, you're right." Paul chuckled nervously.

There was silence in the car for a bit. Neither Paul nor Sybilus knew what to say. Paul had honestly just kept talking about the ice cream shop because he didn't know where to stop. It was awkward, but not tense. Overwhelmingly, if either one had been paying attention, they would have noticed the romantic tension. Both were very evidently interested in each other. But they weren't even able to look at each other with nerves. Paul tapped his fingers nervously. God, now he’d committed to *living* with Syb. He was so nervous that he couldn’t look at the guy but apparently he was going to live with him now. God, he was an idiot. Paul rested his head on his hand, looking out the window. 

“So... have you any idea w-what season three of Wayward G-guide is going to look like?” Sybilus asked. 

“No clue. Lesly hasn’t even told Artie and I that we get to do it yet.” Paul chuckled. “Who knows who it’ll go to.”

“Oh.” Sybilus frowned. “But you and Artemis did so well with it!”

“Yeah. Lesly’s weird like that.” Paul sighed. “Last I heard he’s looking for siamese twins. Who are also podcast hosts.”

“Have y-you considered podcasting independently?” Sybilus suggested. 

“I mean... kinda.” Paul shrugged. “But like... I don’t know. There’s something about Wayward Guide specifically that I just... I loved it.”

“Do you know what in specific that s-s-something might have been?” Sybilus tried to help. 

“I... not really.” Paul admitted

“Could it have been the s-story you were t-t-t-telling and not the actual podcast itself?” Sybilus pointed out. 

“You know... you could be right.” Paul realized. 

“Well... m-m-maybe you could do a podcast on the h-history or Connor Creek while you’re here. S-s-set up a little studio. My office is always rather quuiet, so you could use that.” Sybilus suggested. “M-maybe you could do a podcast on p-paranormal and s-s-supernatural histories throughout our country!”

“You know, that would be really cool.” Paul agreed. “I’ll talk to Artie about it. You know, since... we’re a pair.”

“Oh, of course!” Sybilus nodded. 

“Yeah...” Paul bit his lip. He looked to his feet. “Hey, Syb, can I ask you a kinda weird question?”

“Of course.” Sybilus assured him. 

“Is there anyone in Connor Creek who’s LGBTQ+ other than Donny?” Paul asked. Oh god. What was he doing? Where was he going with that question. How was he going to play that off? He got an idea. “I mean... just in case APN wants to use that kind of information to celebrate during Pride month.”

“Well... let’s see...” Sybilus thought aloud. “I believe that C-Crispin and Odie Doty were seeing each other before Odie’s unf-fortunate demise. Madison once brought a girlfriend to town council. They’d met at a ‘S-Small Town Law Enforcement Summit’. I always wondered what happened t-to that girlfirend- she was l-l-lovely. And, erm... I’m gay.”

“You are?” Paul started to beam. He caught himself too late, a blushing mess. Goddamnit he was giving himself away!

“Erm... yes.” Sybilus blushed. “I-I’ve never technically come out... no one really d-does in Connor Creek. You just sort of show up with a p-p-partner or two and everyone knows.”

“Huh.” Paul hummed. “I’m bi.”

“Oh.” Sybilus nodded. Paul nearly groaned at what he’d just said. He was real smooth, wasn’t he? Both drove in silence again for a moment. Sybilus pulled into a driveway. “We’re here! T-this is the ice cream shop.”

“So I can get the scoop on my competition.” Paul smirked. 

Internally, he was killing himself. Why was literally everything he was doing and saying to this man today the cringiest, most embarassing stuff in his playbook? Seriously. As far as impressions went... he was not making a good one, and he was sure of it. Well at least Sybilus was gay. He had half of a chance. Maybe if he could just calm the fuck down (or whatever it was he needed to do to stop acting like a total dumabss) he could talk Sybilus into getting dinner with him sometime... or maybe he would somehow manage to drive Syb away after he had made the first move. Paul froze. Oh god. Syb had made the first move.

“Are you okay?” Sybilus checked, already out of the car. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah!” Paul blushed, getting out. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be s-sorry.” Sybilus chuckled. “I get lost in my head sometimes too.”

“Right...” Paul sighed, walking into the ice cream shop with him. Even though it was a hot day, it was just the two of them and the teenage girl behind the counter. Sybilus walked up to the counter ahead of him, knowing how things worked there. 

“H-hello... I was h-hoping- ah! liking- ah! I-I would like two d-double scoop waffle cones please.” Sybilus stammered out. 

“Sure thing.” The perky sales attendant smiled knowingly. “What are the flavours on those scoops?”

“Y-you go first.” Sybilus blushed, looking at his feet. 

“Um... I’ll take one scoop rocky road, one scoop chocolate chip cookie dough.” Paul told her. 

She got to work scooping that. And that’s when Paul found himself doing somethign far too quickly to stop himself: he patted Sybilus’ back to comfort him. He could see how distressed the werewolf was, and... he felt bad. He shouldn’t have to be ashamed of his impediment. Both men blushed, looking to the floor. The tension was high. Paul was frozen, unsure of whether to own his actions or... retreat as fast as was humanly possible. But... he decided to own it, going further and rubbing his friend’s back. Sybilus was blushing even harder. Oh god. Had that been too much. He thought so until... a small smile creeped onto the werewolf’s face. Paul smiled back softly. What in the actual hell was going on with those two?

“Alright, here you go hon.” The attendant smirked, passing an ice cream to Paul. She turned to Sybilus. “What about you, sweetie?”

“One b-birthday cake and one cotton candy.” Sybilus told her. She scooped those two fairly easily. 

“Those ones are always so soft.” She told him, still smiling brightly. She handed him the cone. “Here you go.”

“H-how much d-do I owe you?” Sybilus asked, reaching into his pocket. 

“Those are on the house guys. Happy Pride.” The ice cream scooper winked. 

Both Sybilus and Paul blushed, looking at each other. They seemed to be silently asking each other if they let the girl do that for them. Paul shrugged as if to say ‘why no?’, and they both looked back to her. Paul smiled softly. 

“Thank you.” He sighed, taking Sybilus’ hand and walking back outside the shop. There was a little table out there, and he sat them down at that. 

“Well...” Sybilus chuckled nervoulsy. 

“Yeah.” Paul blushed, chuckling with him. 

“I suppose it would be appropriate to wish you a happy pride...” Sybilus smiled shyly at Paul. “I-I... suppose we’d make a handsome couple- o-or at least she thought so.”

“I mean, she’s not wrong...” Paul shrugged, before freezing. Him and Sybilus just stared at each other for a second, and Paul immediately felt guilty. “I am so sorry if that made you uncomfortable, it just-”

“I agree.” Sybilus cut him off. Both just stared at each other, a look of mutual realization hit them. 

“So, um... maybe she wasn’t so wrong then.” Paul tested. “Thinking we were a couple...”

“M-maybe she wasn’t.” Sybilus sighed. There was a pause. 

“So... is this a date?” Paul checked. 

“I-if you would like it to be.” Sybilus bit his lip. 

“Yeah... I think that would be great.” Paul smiled softly. 

“I-I know of a walking trail nearby i-if you would like to go- ah! W-walk for a bit.” Sybilus offered. 

“I’d love that.” Paul beamed. 

And so the two men got up and started down the road, still eating their ice creams as they went along. Paul hesitantly reached out and grabbed Sybilus’ hand, squeezing it. Sybilus blushed, looking over and him ans smiling softly, squeezing back. Paul supposed now that he had a boyfriend he’d probably have to come out to Artemis... if she didn’t already know. He was like 99% sure she was a lesbian though, so he should be fine. Twinsense... he supposed it made them both gay. He was pretty sure that he couldn’t be any happier than he was in that moment. And he was pretty sure Syb felt the same way. It must be the pride month magic, bringing them together- or maybe it was always meant to be this way. Who knows? Paul was just excited for the journey.

[bl597]

Can I have one of the reader being a muggle born Gryffindor and is friends with the trio. She has the same potions class with them and everyday, she along with the trio, had suffer the crap Snape would throw at them. So she decides to give him a taste of his own medicine, and be very disruptive during class. Every time after he says, Turn to page 394” she chimes in with “Like a boss” and kept on doing that. The whole class was laughing and Snape gave her detention for her class clown moment.

of course you can, love! i'm so so sorry you had to wait so long, i really hope you enjoy it! if you don't like it, please let me know so i can rewrite it for you!!

warnings: the word "bullshit", reader is the same age as the golden trio and they're in 3rd year, Snape is an idiot in this one, it got a little long yay, english is not my first language, so i'm sorry for any mistakes!

golden trio x muggleborn!gryffindor!reader

my masterlist ♡

When you went to the train station, looking for platform 9¾, there was nothing between the platforms 9 and 10, just a wall. Then you and your parents saw a family of redheads and a dark haired boy in front of the wall between the two platforms, and they had the same things as you next to their suitcases.

“Hm, excuse me, ma'am?” your mother asked the redhead woman next to a little girl. “Is there any possibility that you know how to go to the platform 9¾?”

The woman smiled sweetly at your mother “Of course, dear! You just have to go straight through the wall!” she said as if it was nothing, and your eyes widened.

“What?”

“Oh, it's okay, honey!” the woman said, calming you down “Fred, you next!” she said to one of the twins, gesturing to the wall with her head after the boy with glasses crossed it.

“He's not Fred, I am!” the other twin exclaimed and you giggled.

“Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother!” the one who wasn't Fred said.

“Oh, sorry George!” she said. “Come on.”

“Actually, we were just joking, I'm Fred!” 'George' said before going through the wall, his brother following after, both chuckling.

“See? It's easy!” she said, looking with a big smile at you and at the dark haired boy, who looked just as nervous as you. “Now, go you three, come on.”

You, the dark haired boy and the other redhead boy around your age went through the wall, one behind each other. When you realised you hadn't crashed into the wall, you finally opened your eyes and saw the beautiful train in front of you. You smiled brightly, and so did the other boys.

Soon, the woman, the little girl and your parents appeared, leading you three to the train. You saw Mrs Weasley - as your parents told you was her name - hug the boys and say goodbye to both of them. Your parents did the same, hugging you and making you promise you would write them everyday. You bid your goodbye to all of them before entering the train and starting to look for an empty place.

After walking for one minute or two, you found one compartment with only a boy holding a little toad and a girl with messy brown hair. “Excuse me,” you said and they turned their heads to you “may I sit here? Everywhere else is full.” they nodded and you smiled thankfully at them, sitting down. “I'm (Y/n) (Y/l/n), by the way."

“I'm Hermione Granger.” the girl said, giving you a smile. “And this is Neville Longbottom.” she pointed to the boy.

“Hello.” he shyly waved at you and you waved back at him.

You spent half of the ride talking about your lives and how excited you were to finally meet Hogwarts, and you found out Hermione was a muggleborn as well. You guys were talking so excitedly Neville almost didn't even notice the little toad escaping his hands.

“Trevor!” he exclaimed, looking around the compartment, trying to find his pet.

“Do you want us to help you find him, Neville?” you asked him and he nodded, not wanting to lose his pet. “Okay, let's look in the corridors and in the compartments.”

You three left your compartment, entering others and asking people if they had seen a toad, which they unfortunately didn't. You and Hermione knocked in the door of one compartment, the same redhead boy you've seen earlier opened it and looked at you two curiously.

“Have any of you seen a toad?” Hermione asked and the two boys shook their heads. “Ok then, thank y- Holy cricket! You're Harry Potter!” she gasped, looking at the dark haired boy that now you knew the name.

“Hm, yeah, I guess I am.” he said shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I'm Hermione Granger.” she said. “This is my friend (Y/n) (Y/l/n).” you nodded and waved at them.

“You're the girl from earlier!” the redhead exclaimed, and you nodded and smiled.

“And you are..?” Hermione asked.

The boy swallowed the rest of the candy and tried to clean his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. “Ron Weasley.”

“Pleasure.” Hermione said with a little disgusted expression seeing the boy's mouth dirty with chocolate. “Well, you two better change your clothes, we're almost there. Come on, (Y/n).” you said a little 'bye' before Hermione pulled you with her towards your compartment.

~

It was already night when you arrived at the castle with the rest of the first years and Hagrid, the giant hairy man. A tall old woman appeared, thanking Hagrid and leading the children inside. When the doors finally opened, you couldn't stop smiling. It was as if you were in your own fairytale, like the ones you always read when you were younger.

The same woman, who introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, said everything about the houses, the sorting hat and the sorting ceremony. You all then entered the Great Hall in a line, like professor McGonagall told so.

In front of you all there was an old hat, which could only be the sorting hat. After the sorting hat sang a little song about the houses, Professor McGonagall started calling the students and they went to where the hat and the professor were, and after one minute or two, the hat exclaimed which house the person was in.

“Susan Bones!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Justin Finch-Fletchley!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Padma Patil!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

“(Y/n) (Y/l/n)!”

You nervously walked towards the hat, sitting down while professor McGonagall carefully put it on your head.

“I can see you're really brave and really like some adventure, huh?” the hat said and your eyes widened in surprise. “Open minded and also really smart, would be fine in Ravenclaw. But I can feel it, the loyalty to your friends, the nobility. I know exactly what to do with you.” After a few seconds, the hat exclaimed: “GRYFFINDOR!”

The Gryffindor students clapped, congratulating you when you sat down. After a few minutes the table was getting fuller. Neville Longbottom, the boy from the train sat next to you, smiling shyly. Then Seamus Finnigan, Parvati Patil, Dean Thomas, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger and a lot more. You and Hermione hugged each other, happy that you were in the same house. After that, you were inseparable.

~

Over the years, you, Hermione, Harry and Ron became best friends and were always seen together. Everything was amazing, all the classes were interesting and funny and all the students and professors were cool. Well, almost all of them. Professor Snape was your - a lot of other people's - least favorite professor. He had always made your life a living hell, especially because you were a Gryffindor and a muggleborn. He always did everything he could to take points from your house everytime you did something he said was unacceptable - mostly it was just doing something wrong unintentionally in Potions, like failing with your potions.

In your third year, professor Lupin became the DADA professor - the best one you ever had -, but once a month he would miss the class because he was sick. You were happy to see that he was fine the other day, but the worst part was: Snape replaced him when he was sick.

You were laughing about something with Harry when out of nowhere Snape entered the classroom, closing all the windows like the drama queen he was. You rolled your eyes, and so did half of the class.

“Turn to page 394.” he said, looking at the class.

“Like a boss.” you said in a failed attempt to imitate his stupid deep voice. The whole class laughed, even some Slytherins on the other side of the room.

“Quiet, Mr/Miss (Y/l/n).” he hissed.

“Quiet, Mr/Miss (Y/l/n).” you said in a mocking tone and the class laughed again.

Professor Snape looked at you with a expression that said i-would-kill-you-if-it-wasn't-illegal and you just smirked. You were tired of dealing with bullshit and he treating you like nothing just because of your house of bloodstatus.

“Page 394, I'm not going to repeat it.” Snape said with an annoyed voice.

“But, professor" Hermione started “we haven't studied about werewolves yet.”

Snape ignored her, making a movement with his wand. In front of the class, photos of werewolves appeared out of nowhere. “Can anyone tell me what's the difference between a werewolf and a real wolf?” he said.

Hermione lifted her hand, but Snape ignored her once again. “No one? What a shame.”

“Professor, please!” said Hermione, hand still lifted. “The werewolf differs from the real wolf by small details. The werewolf's snout...”

“Quiet, Miss Granger!” Snape harshly said. “5 points from Gryffindor.”

Hermione lowered her hand, face red like her tie. You felt your blood boil.

“You asked us something and only Hermione knows the answer! Why did you ask us if you didn't want any of us to answer?” Ron hissed, looking at the professor. The whole class gasped, looking between Ron and Snape with wide eyes.

“Yeah, professor. You always asks us something and never lets us answer and then you punish us for it!” you said loudly, ignoring the deathly glare Snape gave you two.

“50 points from Gryffindor and detention for one week, Mr Weasley and Mr/Miss (Y/l/n)!”

“Are you crazy?!” Hermione and Harry whisper-yelled to you and Ron, who just shrugged.

“The old bat deserved it.” you said through your teeth. “Besides, it's detention with professor Lupin, he's cool and he always gives us chocolate.”

You four laughed quietly. Let's just say that Snape hated you four even more, but you could live with it, you've been doing fine for the last 3 years. And you had you friends with you, so it was worth it all the detentions with Snape.

[chocoholicannanymous]

...As Stupid Does (Teen Wolf) 19/19

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything – except for a red hoodie...

This is the final part of this story, and this ‘verse. A bit bittersweet, but honestly? So much relief too. Because as much as I never wanted to abandon this story I was worried that I’d never pull together the focus and energy to connect scattered paragraphs and thoughts into a complete ending.

Here it is though. I hope those of you reading this enjoy it.

Part 18, Part 17, Part 16, Part 15, Part 14, Part 13,  Part 12,  Part 11,  Part 10,  Interlude,  Part 9, Part 8d, Part 8c, Part 8b, Part 8a, Part 7, Part 6, Part 5,Part 4,Part 3, Part 2, Part 1,Not Stupid, Stupid Is… and pre-verse ficlet I’m Stupid (Don’t Worry ‘Bout Me)…

Epilogue

Here's the thing: Stiles is a lucky guy. He's smart enough to realize exactly how lucky.

He's three years through a four year college degree, with a job waiting for him after graduation. His relationship with his dad is stronger than ever. He's got a home also waiting for him, one that's surrounded by two packs full of 'wolves.

He's also got Derek.

And the thing is, he and Derek? They're good together. Like really, really, almost disgustingly good. They weren't back in Beacon Hills. They kind of weren't when they decided to try again, for real this time.

They had spent their first year together fucking up, and god, the amount of times Stiles had questioned not just his sanity in doing this but also his intelligence. But during that year they also started working together, begun healing old hurts and smoothing down their rough edges, and found a way to fit together.

Once that year was over they'd sat down and talked things through.

Okay, they'd screamed some too, and once Stiles had even walked out. But the important thing is that he'd done so in a mature way. He'd told Derek that he was walking out, why he was doing so and that he was coming back once he'd cooled off. And then he'd kept his word.

And they'd done it on their own. No prompting, no mediating, no one coming in to send them to separate corners or patch them up. Stiles is still hella proud of that.

It's been three years now, and as far as Stiles is concerned he's got an amazing boyfriend that he fully expects to spend the rest of his life with.

If anyone had told him this years ago, when Scott had just been bitten and they were scrambling to keep their heads above water – at one point literally – Stiles would not have believed it. At one point he'd have taken violently offense, even without being told said boyfriend would be Derek.

Things have changed. He has changed. Derek has changed. But most importantly? They've changed together.

These days Derek has enough of a handle on himself to not need magic or therapy to make it through a visit. He's still seeing Dr Bianchi occasionally, as is Stiles, but they're both down to a handful of times per year.

And it's not just when it comes to the two of them that Derek has improved. Stiles gets regular reports from Scott, and it's obvious that Derek's a good Alpha these days. Sure, he will only stay an Alpha for a little while longer before handing it over to Cora, but that doesn't diminish his accomplishment. Everyone in a pack benefits from a good, steady Alpha.

Just like Cora benefits from a brother who is all these things.

Yeah, life is good.

The only dark cloud on Stiles's horizon is that he's going to have to go back to Beacon Hills.

Returning to Beacon Hills is, yeah okay, it's not the last thing Stiles wants to do. Reliving the Alpha pack, the kanima, Kate, Allison, Gerard, Peter (though that one's a firm “against” on returning too), reliving his mother's death, living through his dad's death, killing someone, almost killing someone, losing his pack, losing Embry... There are a lot of thing that Stiles wants even less.

But returning to Beacon Hills, even for a weekend, does come very low on the list. Distance has not made Stiles' heart fonder. Returning sadly isn't exactly optional.

Sure, no one's forcing him, but that doesn't mean staying away is an alternative. Not this time. Because Scott is getting married. Scott, who's still only 21 for another couple of weeks, and who used to think that werewolves were the worst (or second worst depending on how angry he was with Derek that day), who believed that he didn't need an Alpha and that Allison had hung the moon, is getting married to a werewolf, one that's not only Derek's sister, but also his soon-to-be Alpha.

And of course said wedding has to take place in Beacon Hills.

Now, Stiles has done his best to talk Scott into eloping, has tried since Scott called him with the news that Cora had said yes, but. Apparently Scott can't see the brilliance in eloping, not even with Stiles's excellent arguments.

“You, me, your mom, abuela Delgado, Derek and Cora. Just the family. No douche pack.”

“What about Peter?”

Seriously? The last thing Stiles had expected to need to justify is why leaving Peter out of, well, everything is a good idea.

“No uncle psycho either. He doesn't qualify as family.”

There's a sound that Stiles knows from years of being Scott's friend means he's nodding in agreement.

“Okay, true. What about dad though?”

“Oh, you know, I figured he'd be my plus one.” That came out flippantly, because he knows there's no way Scott wouldn't invite his dad regardless.

“No, Stiles, what about my dad?”

“He doesn't qualify as family either.”

The words come out before Stiles can filter himself, and he kind of wishes he could take them back, except...

“Look, can I be brutal here? I mean, we both know I'm going to be honest so... When's the last time you saw agent McCall?”

“There was a thing junior year, he came here to investigate.”

Not what he was asking, but a very telling answer.

“Okay, and when's the last time you saw him in his capacity as your dad? Hell, when's the last time you spoke to him? Does he even know about Cora?”

Scott evades the questions, which again: telling.

“He's my dad though, doesn't that kind of mean I have to invite him?”

Stiles snorts. As if.

“I don't see why. Sure, he's 50 % of your genepool, but is he really your dad? I mean, I can't remember the last time he and you shared anything other than your last name, and we both know that's not going to be true for much longer.”

“Yeah, okay, you have a point. He's not getting an invite. That doesn't mean we're eloping though, Stiles. Cora deserves a proper wedding, and I'm going to give her that. Now, you convince her that eloping's a good idea and we can talk about it again, but I'm not risking making her mad at me just because you don't want to subject yourself to Isaac. At least Jackson won't be invited?”

“Small favors, man. Small favors.”

There's another one of Scott's agreement noises before the conversation had moved on.

Of course, Cora had been an even tougher nut to crack than Scott, and Stiles had retreated ungracefully once she'd started threatening his balls.

Really, there was no need to go there. If for no other reason, well, shouldn't she leave the goods intact for Derek's sake?

Of course, Stiles can understand why she's unwilling to let go of the only Hale tradition she still can have, namely getting married in the preserve and in the presence of pack. Every Hale has done so for over 200 years, before they were even called Hale.

(Stiles listens to Derek explain, haltingly, and decides to admit defeat. At least Derek's willing to bypass that tradition, should they one day decide to marry. He'll take that win and stop pestering Cora.)

So, anyway. There's no talking the lovely couple into eloping. Which means like it or not – and trust him, it's not – Stiles is going back. Because it's Scott.

There's also the fact that in a strange way Stiles has waited for this wedding as long as Scott has. When he and Derek had gotten back together the plan had been for Cora to graduate, then take over the Alpha spark and the pack. Two years had felt long, but doable.

And then Cora had asked for more time.

She'd gone straight from school to working at the Beacon Hills sheriff's department and had felt she needed to adjust a little better to that before taking on something new. It'd been reasonable, and more importantly: Derek had been almost unable to deny his sister anything after getting her back from the dead (except you know, figuratively speaking, unlike a certain other family member).

So they'd talked it over and agreed to give Cora another year, moving the transfer to after the wedding. It makes, Stiles thinks, for one hell of a wedding present. If that's good or bad, eh. Who knows.

He'd taken on more classes in order to have a distraction, had worked himself to the point of exhaustion more than once, and nearly driven the people around him crazy. It'd been more than a little overkill, he admits now, but it had kept him from missing Derek too much. It also means he'll be able to slow down a little his final year.

Or take on whatever shiny but totally unnecessary new class catches his eye, probably, but. He pretends he'll take it easy. Derek pretends to believe him. Derek's also made it clear he's going to move to Seattle once he can leave Beacon Hills, and stay there as long as Stiles does. They both pretend it's not partially to keep Stiles from studying himself into the hospital.

Anyway. He's just, you know, going to have to count small favors. The first one being that Jackson really isn't invited. The second is that Lydia, who was, isn't coming either. Once Stiles had gotten over his crush on her he'd kept a measure of fond respect for the person he'd learned existed behind Lydia's facades, even though they'd never really become friends. That didn't change the fact that her not coming was a relief – she's too smart, sees too much, and he would hate for her to figure things out.

Another person not coming is Danny who's transferred his allegiance to the pack near his college where he's, completely coincidentally Stiles is sure, dating the Alpha's grandson. He'd been invited as a courtesy, but told he couldn't bring his boyfriend, and had wisely chosen not to accept. Cora hates him, and he apparently knows it, and Scott isn't to fond of him either.

Those really are small favors though.

A slightly bigger one is the fact that Deaton isn't coming. Not only does he no longer live in Beacon Hills, but he hasn't been invited. While no one had been able to prove that there had been magic on Scott, his opinions on both Derek and Deaton had changed a little too much for comfort after first moving away and then beginning to meditate. Even Scott had noticed, and gotten suspicious.

In the end there had been no protests from Scott as Derek and Cora had ended Deaton's lease of the land for his practice – land he had been granted use of as the Hale pack's emissary and then had kept using free of charge since the fire, knowing he wasn't keeping to the agreement. Once he'd been called on it, Deaton had packed up, sold his home, and moved away.

No one misses him – not even Scott.

However none of that changes the fact that Beacon Hills still has Peter Hale, who is most certainly both invited to the wedding and attending, and who Stiles still sees as a threat. Because, well, he's not stupid.

Peter Hale will stop being a threat the day he dies, and maybe not even then. (Next time, Stiles has promised himself, he's going to make sure Peter gets the Aiden treatment.)

And Stiles is going to willingly place himself within striking distance from said threat, without a protector on hand.

He hadn't even thought about it at first, just assuming he'd have Embry to keep him safe, but it hadn't taken long to realize that bringing Embry to Scott's wedding wasn't an option.

First of all there's the fact that while neither Derek or Cora can feel the supernatural in the LaPush 'wolves unless they're shifting Peter might. Peter, who's not only older and has had the kind of training Derek never got but who also has access to a lot of the Hale pack's lore which Derek had thought lost in the fire. Stiles isn't willing to take a chance on that knowledge not containing something to help Peter identify the LaPush shifters. (This is, incidentally, one of the reasons Stiles is happy Deaton is gone. He too knows too much for Stiles to trust he wouldn't be able identify another kind of shifter.)

Second there's the fact that every single pack member is visibly Native American, and there are only so many tribes. Peter – or Danny for that matter, even though he's not going to be present, but he's more of an annoyance – could locate Stiles far too easily easily with that kind of information.

There's also the fact that Embry would be on a hair trigger simply because Stiles will be, and might shift and expose them.

Most importantly though is that bringing what would look like a plus one to Cora's wedding would be an insult. Not just to her, who's only just gotten to the point where she accepts that Stiles is in her brother's life for good, but also to Derek. Yes, everyone who matters knows that Embry's relationship with Stiles is as platonic as can be, but that doesn't change anything. They smell enough like each other for wolfy noses to know they're not casual acquaintances, and chances are there would be quite a bit of ribbing and speculation. Derek shouldn't have to listen to that, or for that matter look at Stiles walking around with another man when he himself has to hide what they are to each other. Desire for protection or not, Stiles just isn't willing to do that to Derek.

It's possible that Embry could have skated by as the son of John Stilinski's fiancée – and wow, Stiles still hasn't gotten used to referring to Tiffany Call that way (and damn, does that make him glad that he and Embry are platonic, because that's a little to incestuous even as is). Scott would have been okay with both of them coming, had even brought it up, but everyone involved is aware that it'd make Melissa feel uncomfortable. Regardless, Tiffany's not coming either. Like with Embry there's no way of hiding that she's native, making her too easily identifiable. There's also the fact that it just isn't safe.

Tiffany is many things, and a stronger woman than most, but she's not a fighter. If things go wrong she would be vulnerable, and a liability.

Bringing someone other than Embry means the same risk of discovery.

So instead of a werewolf bodyguard or ten Stiles has his dad.

Yeah.

There's also the fact that in the interest of keeping secrets Stiles can't even use the silver lining of more time with Derek. Letting anyone from that pack know of their connection is bad, but the thought of letting Peter know makes Stiles's blood run cold. That means he's going to be within minutes of his boyfriend for days, and yet he's not going to get hugs, or kisses, or a bedpartner. He's going to be at a wedding along with his romantic partner, while pretending he's single.

Yeah.

It's going to suck.

O--o---o--O

The wedding is missing a lot of traditional parts. It's understandable, really, and not just because both bride and groom along with several guests are werewolves. It's just... Cora doesn't have a father to give her away, or dance with her. She doesn't have a mother to support her, an inherited dress or heirloom jewelry. She doesn't have a best friend to be her maid of honor. What she's got is a brother whose Alpha she'll be within days and an uncle that she doesn't trust as far as she can throw him. Or well, as far as Stiles could throw him.

So they adjust.

No one gives Cora away. Instead she and Scott walk up the isle – isle, forest path, same thing – together. Neither of them have attendants, and Melissa McCall's wedding dress stays in its garment bag.

The wedding is small and intimate, with only a handful of guests outside of the pack – Stiles, John, Melissa, abuela Delgado and two 'wolves from Cora's South American pack. It takes place in a glade just on the edge of the preserve and the only decorations are wild flowers and boughs of leaves.

It's scaled-down, but also beautiful in its simplicity, because no one can doubt that these are two people who love each other deeply.

Stiles has to blink away tears at more than one time. His friend, his brother, is promising to love, cherish and honor his girl, and is being promised the same in return. There's not a doubt in Stiles's mind that when they swear to do so until death do them part they mean it. This, he knows, is Scott's life now. It's the life and future he deserves. It's enough to make Stiles's heart swell with love.

And then it hits him. With a little luck that'll be him in a not too distant future. He has to look away not to betray himself by staring lovingly at Derek.

Stiles walks through the door to the cabin he's sharing with his dad. He's tired, both because of emotion and vigilance. His dad's still back at the wedding, catching up with Melissa, but Stiles doesn't have the energy. He's spent the day keeping one eye on the pack, and Peter in particular, and generally hating that he's back in Beacon Hills while loving that he's able to be here for Scott.

It's been exhausting.

Just about everyone else is still celebrating, but once Scott and Cora had left to change clothes and go on their honeymoon Stiles had left too. Pretending that he doesn't want to kill Peter, or kiss Derek, has taken it out of him and he can't do it any longer. He's going back home tomorrow and he can't spend another minute being that close to Derek without being able to be with him. That it'll be at least a month, probably two or more, before he can see Derek again is making it even harder.

As far as everyone but him and Derek knows Scott and Cora are going on an actual honeymoon, for a whole month. The truth is that they'll be gone for a week before sneaking back. The rest of the time will be spent in recovery and training after Derek transfers the Alpha spark. Cora will come back as the new Hale Alpha, but that doesn't mean Derek will be free to leave.

There will be unrest in a pack with a new Alpha, even under the best of circumstances, and these – as so often for them – are not. Cora will need Derek by her side, to support her and calm the pack. Maybe she'll also need him to help take down threats thinking to take advantage of a novice Alpha. Maybe they'll have to deal with Peter...

It'll be a little while yet before Derek will be free of Beacon Hills.

So Stiles is sad, and he's got a headache and he just wants to take some pills, text Embry some and then sleep.

After he's re-ringed the cabin with mountain ash of course.

Stiles pulls his phone out of its pocket, takes off his jacket and goes to throw it at the chair before thinking twice. It's a decent suit jacket and if he treats it right he won't need to go suit shopping again in years. Coat hanger it is.

He turn towards the clothes rack, his brain three steps ahead, and hits a wall, his phone clattering to the floor.

Only there's no wall there.

He scrambles backwards, trying to put as much space as he can between himself and the threat and swears. The door is out of reach and he's trapped.

“Hello Stiles.”

Fuck.

“Peter.”

He flicks through scenarios in his head, trying to figure out how to get out of this, but he keeps running into mental walls.

Stiles is a lot better trained than when he left Beacon Hills, in ways Peter knows nothing about. Under the right circumstances he might have a chance.

These are not.

He's in close quarters with Peter, unable to reach the door before the 'wolf can get to him. He's mostly unarmed due to being dressed for a wedding, and what he does have isn't as easily accessible as he'd like.

Plus it's Peter.

Stiles is going to assume that everything he thinks he knows about Peter's skills and strength is wrong. To do anything else would be to sign his own death warrant. Derek might be clouded by memories of “uncle Peter”, but Stiles has never forgotten the psychopathic killer he'd first encountered.

No, training or no training, Stiles's one real advantage is having a pack, and what being part of it means. Unfortunately he has no idea if it'll be enough.

“Shouldn't you be with the pack, or, I don't know, in your own home? Not breaking and entering somewhere you're definitely not welcome.”

“Oh, but it's not breaking and entering if you have a key.” Which, fuck, did Peter kill someone to get his hands on a backup key? “Besides, I didn't get a chance to talk to you earlier. It's been so long, Stiles, won't you humor me? We're practically old friends, are we not? It'll be like old times.”

“You're crazy.”

“Now now Stiles. That's not very nice of you.”

Stiles snorts, because nice? Not really in his wheelhouse.

“You think I care? When it comes to you? Come now, I said crazy, not stupid.”

Because unfortunately Peter is anything but, making him even more dangerous. Still, the wolf just smirks a little at Stiles's defiance.

“I'm afraid that answer just isn't acceptable. See, I really do need to talk to you. Or well, I need you. I'd like it if you talked to me, but I'll manage either way. You however... You really would do well to humor me.”

Then Peter looks at him, and oh shit. His eyes are flashing back and forth between the electric blue that had looked so good on Derek and a sickly red.

It takes nothing to figure it out.

Peter had called him the clever one, and meant it in a mocking way. But the reality is that Stiles is clever, and knows how to put puzzle pieces together.

And these particular puzzle pieces... Peter came back to life using not only Lydia but also Derek – had drained Derek of life and strength and power, and had tried to steal the Alpha power too.

And afterwards Derek had changed. Had grown more volatile, more likely to hurt someone – more unstable.

Stiles is willing to bet Peter had had a bit more success than they'd realized, that he'd managed to siphon off some of the Alpha power and keep it.

That would explain why Derek had acted the way he had. Why he'd been so easily influenced by the pack's negativity. Why Derek had sometimes acted more like Peter than like himself.

It would definitely explain how the Alpha power had become this unstable, negative force in Derek that he felt was fighting him. He is sharing it with Peter. And apparently Peter is done sharing. Stiles is uncomfortably aware of exactly how little defense he has to put up in regards to a Peter who is no longer hiding his power, who is no longer playing weak and damaged.

The only reason he's still alive is so Peter can use him against Derek.

Because even holding a part of the Hale Alpha spark Peter isn't going to just challenge Derek for the rest of it, or meet him in a fair fight. It's not how he works. Peter doesn't believe in fair, and wants the odds as weighted in his favor as possible. Using Stiles as bait, or whatever, is a way of doing that. There's also the fact that Derek has been getting stronger and better as an Alpha, leaving Peter needing every advantage he could. Even an ambush might not give him the upper hand.

Well, Stiles is going to do what he can to even out the odds a bit.

It helps that he has no reason to believe Peter will let him go after killing Derek. He'll either be dead too, or bitten without concern for his wishes, and forced to obey Peter. His dad will probably be used against him – or, again, killed outright.

Not fighting won't save him – it'll only make it easier for Peter.

“You kept some of the Alpha spark after using Derek to come back to life.”

“Ah. You really are clever. Too bad you've always wasted that cleverness on my failure of a beta and my useless nephew. Yes, I kept some. It should have been mine altogether, but something went wrong.

“Doesn't matter though, because I'm getting it back. I'm getting it all back tonight.”

Stiles stiffens. That sounds really not good.

“I was willing to be patient. To wait for it. Derek isn't made to be Alpha, and I've always known that sooner or later he'd get himself killed, especially the way kept attracting hunters. I could wait. After all, I had enough power to get through most. Especially after getting a little boost.”

That's what happened to miss Blake, Stiles thinks. He doesn't say anything though. It's not time to upset the balance. Not yet.

“It was possible one of the others would have had enough and killed him, but chances were the Alpha spark would have gone to me either way. If not,” Peter shrugs, “a new Alpha, who doesn't know how to deal with the change in their senses? Easy to kill.”

Stiles can see it happen just like that too, unfortunately.

“Everything was going according to plan too, with Derek growing more and more unstable. Given a little more time I might even have been able to talk him into giving up the spark voluntarily.” Like hell he would have. “And then my dear, dear niece came back to life.”

There's something in Peter's voice with couple with the moue he makes that gives Stiles another flash of insight.

“You resent Cora for being alive. You resent her for surviving the fire.”

Peter almost slips into a roar.

“She abandoned me!”

“She was a child! I know you were trained to hide from hunters, to go to ground and stay there until the threat was over. Are you blaming her for doing what she's been told?”

“You go to ground, yes. And then you come back. You don't abandon your pack.”

And wow, hearing that shit from the wolf who killed one niece, tried to kill a nephew, and had just explained how he had been waiting to try again... Yeah, Peter Hale is a hypocrite on top of being fucking insane.

“She abandoned us, and then when she comes crawling back,” which, totally not how it had actually happened, “that useless weakling wants to reward her for it by passing the Alpha spark to her. And they expect me to just take it?”

Fuck. The biggest flaw in the plan had always been the risk of Peter finding out and getting mad. There are contingency plans, sure, but none of them counted for quite this.

“I should have been Alpha after Talia. Laura was just as weak, just as unsuitable, as Derek. She didn't have it in her to take vengeance for our family – she just ran. It should have been me. It would have been me, had I not been burnt so badly.”

Peter's eyes are flickering between red and blue again, but the light in them has nothing to do with the 'wolf. It's insanity, and Stiles makes a quick judgment call.

He's never going to be able to outfight Peter. What he needs is to keep him of guard, while hoping for help to reach him. And as dangerous as it might be, the best way is to go after Peter's ego.

He's calm and collected in a way he rarely is as his brain starts listing sore points to hit.

He starts off by laughing, startling Peter out of his self-righteous rant.

“I might have to take back what I said about you not being stupid. You really think you should have been Alpha over Laura? Dude, you are delusional. You not becoming Alpha after the fire had nothing to do with you burning, and everything to do with the fact that you're a monster. Hell, the only way you had a shot at Alpha-hood was to steal it.

“Derek's fucked up plenty, yes, but even on his worst days he's better than you. He at least is sane.”

His words are working, Stiles can see it, and he continues to taunt the 'wolf.

“In fact, should Derek die today? You're not even in the running to become the next Alpha. It'll be Cora, or Scott if she's not an option either. Hell, even Isaac is a better candidate for Alpha than you and I really don't like that guy. No, you're going to have to kill the rest of your family and the new Hale pack along with them to even have a shot.

“Fuck, if I was that Alpha spark? I'd leave the Hale line – hell, existence even – completely over settling in you. You're simply too corrupt.

“You speak of Derek and Laura not being worthy of the Alpha spark. The truth is that you're the one that's unworthy. The world truly will be a better place once you're dead.”

Peter's eyes flicker back and forth and Stiles is actually kind of surprised he's not already dead. Maybe Peter still thinks he can get something out of keeping him alive.

“Brave words, Stiles, but that's all they are. Words. You don't understand what it's like to be a werewolf, what it means to be in a pack. But I'll make sure you do. Before the sun rises I'll be the Alpha, and like it or not you're going to help me. And as a reward I'll give you what you wanted but were afraid to say yes to all those years ago.

“Once my useless nephew is out of the picture you'll be my beta. Part of my pack. And you'll be good to me, won't you Stiles? After all, you have...experience in being good to your Alpha, don't you?” Peter's voice is silky-sweet around the words, and Stiles shudders with disgust.

What Peter is hinting at is never going to happen, not even if Stiles has to kill himself to make sure it doesn't. Yes, he's made some pretty harsh statements about what was between him and Derek, but not even at the lowest point did that make him feel as dirty as Peter's mere words are doing now.

At the same time Stiles is willing to put money on the fact that Peter doesn't really mean what he's saying. Oh, he might follow through, especially if he leaves Derek alive, but this isn't about any kind of want or desire. This is about scaring Stiles, about rattling him, about making him beg.

He's not going to do that.

“Fuck no.”

“Tsk, tsk. You'll sing a different tune once you're in my pack.”

Stiles laughs again, short and sharp, putting as much mockery as he can muster in it.

“Your pack? You don't have a pack. You'll never have a pack. All you've got, Peter, is two people who shares blood with you and who pity you too much to put you down like the animal you are.

“Really, where's an Argent when you need them?”

That does it. Peter's claws pop, his teeth lengthen and his eyes shine like lasers. Only one of them will walk away from this, and Stiles has finally managed to tip the scales enough that it just might be him. Of course, even almost out of his mind with rage Peter does have some control – he hasn't howled, for instance, keeping it in as to not warn anyone. Stiles's chance is tiny, and it mostly depends on outside factors, but unlike five minutes ago it exists.

Now he just has to be right about a number of factors.

Luckily he is.

The window breaks, glass splintering and flying across the cabin. Peter jerks back as a big furry shape follows and Stiles hurries to to put his back against a corner. Chances are that Peter will win this fight so he's not safe yet, but he's certainly safer than he was a minute ago.

No one had been happy with Stiles going back without Embry. Hell, Stiles hadn't been happy about it. Had it been an option he would have brought the entire pack with him – preferably both even. Jake'd been on the verge of laying down an Alpha order about Stiles and John not going on their own for weeks, the only thing stopping him being the safety of LaPush. Instead he had had to stop basically the entire pack from sneaking off to follow them, same for Sam.

The compromise had been one 'wolf. There had been a fight over who got to go, and even Leah – who still think Stiles is being an idiot – had wanted to go. Of course, Leah is also finally pregnant and no one wants to put her and the baby at risk. (Plus, she's not feeling that great. The phrase “sick as a dog” takes on a new light when you've seen a horse sized shape shifter with violent morning sickness, Stiles decided after seeing Leah sick up to the point where she phased out of her wolf form and fainted. Yuck.)

Embry still hadn't been allowed to go, and Stiles knows why, knows that Jake has a point in claiming Embry's bond to Stiles would cause him to be on edge and risk exposing them in more ways than one. That doesn't make it easier to deal with though.

Stiles wishes with all his being that it could have been Embry.

Instead it had been decided that Collin, as the most harmless looking one, should go and play hapless tourist. He had arrived in Beacon Hills a couple of days ago, and as far as Stiles knows no one's picked up on anything strange about him or his story.

Of course, with Collin being one of the youngest and least experienced 'wolves he's not the one Stiles would have wanted in a fight against Peter Hale.

All he really is is a distraction, but it does gives Stiles a chance. While Peter's attention is on the giant 'wolf Stiles slowly eases the hidden blade from his sleeve and then carefully rips open his cuff.

The mountain ash concealed in the cuff does as it's meant to and falls into his hand. Now he's got a chance.

Provided nothing has gone to hell in the last couple of hours there is at least one other 'wolf near, able to warn others. If it has and they're on their own, then there's always howling.

All Stiles needs to do is get up a barrier and they'll have some breathing room. He just needs some distance between Collin and Peter.

At first the giant 'wolf is causing Peter to be cautious, but it doesn't take long for the man to realize he's the strongest of them. The wolf shape is excellent for fighting and killing vampires, but less so when it comes to another type of werewolf.

Collin yips in pain and Peter strikes again. This time he lands a powerful blow that throws Collin across the cabin. He lands heavily, with a whine, and doesn't get up. Stiles swallows as he sees blood pooling out from the still body.

A 'wolf can heal just about anything, given time. Peter won't give them that though. He's already stalking across the floor with blood dripping from his claws and a sadistic smile on his face. He's fast enough that he could have crossed before Stiles knew what was happening. This slow walk is just a show, meant to intimidate Stiles.

Too bad it just gives him the time he needs.

“You've been keeping secrets. I'll enjoy dragging them out of you.”

It's a promise, meant to invoke, and it works. But Stiles has gotten used to pushing down his fear and working through it, and so he looks Peter straight in the eyes and quips.

“Didn't your Alpha teach you not to play with your prey?”

And then he throws the mountain ash.

He's practiced this very moment over and over until he doesn't need to walk the perimeter, or to have “enough” ash. All he needs is a little bit and his belief.

He's never believed anything this hard before.

“Mountain ash? Always the clever one, aren't you? But your little trick won't save you, or your friend there. You can only hold the barrier for so long, and I can be a very patient man.

“It would be wise of you not to test that patience though. Sooner or later your father will walk through that door, and I would hate to kill him just to prove a point.”

Like he'd let any of them live either way.

“Here's the thing, Peter. You would be wise to leave now. Who knows, run fast enough, far enough, and you might even live to regret your actions here tonight. Because Game of Thrones might be shit about a lot of things, but they're dead right about: 'the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives'. And you, Peter. You're all alone.”

“You think you're pack? You, my useless nephew's even more useless fucktoy? Don't make me laugh.

“Since you're apparently too stupid to realize, I've got you trapped in here. You've got no way to call for help,” and he steps on Stiles's phone, grinding it to components to make a point, “your supposed savior is out like a light, dying as we speak, and your mountain ash barrier is weakening by the minute.”

It's not. Stiles can feel that it's still just as strong, but it's a good tactic, trying to shake the belief holding it together.

“That poor fool is even more of an idiot than that useless beta of mine. He didn't even howl for help. Not that he would have gotten any, but he didn't even try. Pathetic.”

Stiles smirks. No, Collin hadn't howled. But with the LaPush pack mind he didn't need to, not being shifted.

“Peter? This is the 21st century. Proper 'wolves use cellphones just like the rest of us.

And then in a show of timing almost too good to be true Seth and Brady jumps through the broken window as Derek – followed by Cora – break through the door.

Stiles almost sobs with relief. Having Collin arrive had been such a help, but it hadn't really made him feel safe. Not when up against Peter Hale. The same goes for Brady. They're his friends, yes, but they're the most inexperienced of the 'wolves and they're Sam's. Seth is, well, he's not that much more experienced but he's pack. That matters.

It's not the fact that they're four against one that calms Stiles, or even that Derek is there – it's the presence of pack.

He still wishes Embry was with him, but now he dares to believe he'll see his 'wolf again.

Peter is actually looking stunned, faced with another two giant wolves. And is that a hint of fear Stiles sees? It could be. After all Peter has to realize that while Derek and Cora might be swayed to spare him out of sentimentality, these new and unknown wolves have no such compunctions. Stiles wonders if the crazed 'wolf sees his death in their arrival.

He hopes so.

The four circle Peter, cutting of all routes of escape. If he wants to leave he'll have to go through them, and that's not as easy as fighting Collin might lead Peter to believe. They don't attack though and Stiles can't help but think his 'wolves are holding back out of consideration for Derek, and to a lesser degree Cora.

Seth and Brady both know that Peter needs to die, but Derek has had a hard time reconciling with the fact that killing Peter had been necessary the first time. He hasn't even wanted to entertain the idea that it might be needed a second time, and might want to give Peter a chance to surrender.

Or it's just about waiting for the right moment. Regardless Stiles finds himself unable to watch what is about to come. Strange. He'd had no problem watching Peter die the first time, had thrown Molotov cocktails at him and watched Derek rip his throat out without regret. He has been certain Peter needs to die again since about 5 seconds after finding out he was back.

And yet he finds he can't watch.

As Peter lounges, desperately, towards Brady – either having identified him as the easiest target or unwilling to attack his remaining blood family – Stiles burrows his face into Collins fur and tries to shut it all out. They're safe behind the mountain ash barrier, and their friends will take care of Peter without them. They're safe, the barrier will hold, their friends will live, and Peter will die.

Stiles's world shrinks down to those four things, trying to will it into existence.

They're safe. The sound of a large body hitting the wall.

The barrier will hold. A grunt as claws strike flesh.

Their friends will survive. A high-pitched whine and the smell of blood.

Peter will die. A howl rises, then cuts out and is replaced by silence.

Derek and Cora are curled up together, shaking and crying and laughing all at once, both their eyes flashing between red and beta blue or gold. Stiles looks at them and feels a sting. Not jealousy, precisely, because he's got Seth, and Brady, and he's pretty sure Embry is a lot closer to Beacon Hills than Jake really likes, just...

Derek won't be coming back with him.

Stiles knew that already, knew that Cora would be vulnerable after the transfer of power, and that having Derek essentially break away straight after wasn't going to happen. They'd talked about it repeatedly and made their plans accordingly.

It's even more true now, with the added trauma of Peter's betrayal and death, causing her to lose a pack member already that day along with half of her remaining blood family.

For her to lose Derek on top of that... No. Stiles doesn't wish that on anyone. Cora needs to stabilize herself, find her balance again, and both siblings need to be allowed to grieve.

Again, it's no surprise that Derek will be staying in Beacon Hills for a while. It's just... It was abstract before. Now it's right there in his face, and Stiles realizes he wasn't prepared.

Looking at Derek and Cora he also realizes that regardless of what they've said, what they've promised, there's a possibility that Derek will change his mind now that the moment is here. It's possible that Beacon Hills without Peter will be tempting enough that Derek will start seeing it as  his home again. It's possible that he will decide that staying with Cora, and the pack he started, is more important than being with Stiles.

If he does... It'll hurt. It'll even hurt like hell. But if it's one thing Stiles has learned it's this: he can live through that, can heal from it, because he won't be alone. Even if he doesn't have Derek he'll have Embry, and his pack.

But that's not how Stiles sees it happening. Not after everything they've been through to get to where they are.

Derek is going to grieve with his sister, and help her settle, and when he's ready he'll leave Beacon Hills, leave their own personal Hellmouth, and come back to Stiles.

Because that's where they're headed, full circle. When they're both ready things will be different. This time around it'll be Derek joining Stiles's pack. There will be no begging, no miscommunication, no posturing, no self-hatred and no Alpha crap. It'll just be Stiles and Derek, healed and happy and together, trying their very best to love each other and not do anything stupid.

It'll be great.

Stiles believes it with all that he has and is. And his belief? Is magic.

~ The End ~

[isthatbloodonhisshirt]

If you could change ten things about Teen Wolf what would you change??

OMG BUCKLE DOWN BECAUSE IT’S GONNA BE A LONG ONE! Do asks have a word limit? Guess we gonna find out! (Sometimes I wish I could speak these replies, they sound much funnier when I am speaking out loud to myself and then they are just weird and flat typed up but I DIGRESS! I do that a lot, have you noticed? Doesn’t matter.)

(Also, I did put a “Keep Reading” but for some reason it’s not working. Or it’s not showing as working on my end. But it’s right under this paragraph I swear so if it’s not working, that isn’t on me....)

1) SO! Trauma. People be dealing with their traumas. That’d be a thing I’d like, thank you. Like, I’m sorry, but there is a fuckton of trauma in this show and everyone like, goes to bed at night and wakes up cured. Like MAGIC! I mean, yes, I get that magic is a thing in the show (is it? I mean kind of? Idk, I never saw past season 4, they alluded to magic and then SNATCHED THAT AWAY so, side-note, that’s coming up later!) But yes, I would’ve very much liked for people to, you know, deal with their traumas in a realistic fashion. Let’s get some therapy going, or like, idk, some actual negative reactions to thing! They kind of had that with Stiles every now and then, but he seemed to be up and down episode to episode so like, it’d be like they wrote an episode where he reacts to what happened to him and then four episodes have gone by where he’s fine and the writers were like “OH YEAH SHIT HE JUST MURDERED LIKE A WHOLE HOSPITAL, make him have a panic attack randomly over dropping milk, that balances out, excellent, we’re so smart.” So yes. DEAL. WITH. THE. TRAUMA! Thanks.

2) LESS CHARACTERS, MORE DEVELOPMENT! I mentioned this in another recent ask about relationships but like, they just kept shoving characters in there. Like one of those clown cars. So we got like, 30% character development on the core group and then the rest was like “wait, who are you again?” Like, legit, I have a bad memory, you put too many people in front of me, I ain’t gonna remember them unless they have a good personality or a reason to be there. And like, develop their relationships! Not even romantically, but like, Scott’s mom loves Scott, that is sweet and lovely, but like, we never really… see… that… developed? Idk man, like again, I have a bad memory, but when you really develop relationships WELL (ex: Brooklyn-nine-nine), that shit sticks with you and you CARE about people. The friendships are important, and the familial relationships are important and just developing all the dynamics is important! They spent more time showcasing how much everyone hated each other and lied to each other and stuff and that just got really tiring. Yes, you’re allowed to get mad at your friends, but if you’re a Werewolf, and your human friend is calling you when there is a fucking monster running around killing people, can you maybe stop making out with your girlfriend and answer your phone so your friend isn’t treading water with a 200+ pound Werewolf for 2 hours? Like, JUST SAYING! (Spoiler alert: Me and Scott would not be close friends. Like, I think we’d be friends, but not so much that I’d trust him with my life. If I wanted to grab pizza and a movie, maybe play some video games, he sounds like a treat, but if my life was in danger, thanks I be callin’ someone who answers their phone).

3) Actual consequences for their actions! Okay like, I am also guilty of this in fanfic, but at the same time, my writing is free, I don’t get paid for it, and I write what I want because that’s how it works, so I can do whatever I please (If I wanna make the Hales royalty for the millionth time, ain’t nobody gonna stop me!). But like, when you are a legit paid screenwriter who is writing a show? Consequences! Just because it’s a show about Werewolves doesn’t mean there can’t be any consequences! Like, the best scene, and I feel like we can agree, because fuck it like, hurt my soul and my heart and I was just so like ;~; was when the sheriff got fired (fired? suspended? TEMPORARILY UNEMPLOYED!) because Stiles stole a police van when they locked Jackson up in it. Like, that shit was REAL LIFE CONSEQUENCES for actions, and that shit was intense and it HURT and omg I loved it! Give me more of that! Like, I’m sorry, but you gonna tell me Nogistune!Stiles walked through the hospital murdering a bazillion people and not one camera was working the whole time? Not one? Nobody saw that? Nobody went “hey, isn’t that the sheriff’s kid?” Like, CAN. YOU. IMAGINE?! That would’ve been so amazing, a bunch of episodes of the pack scrambling to keep the Supernatural a secret while also trying to stop Stiles from GETTING ARRESTED because saying “Sorry ma’am, I was possessed by a demon fox who likes chaos and thought murdering a bunch of people would be fun” ain’t gonna fly in court and the FBI sure isn’t gonna believe that but like, UGH! Again, bad memory, but was the fact that Dark!Stiles wandered through the hospital killing people EVER brought up again???? CONSEQUENCES. Woulda really liked that.

4) STOP with unnecessary romances. Like, yeah, I get it, the allos like their romances, but shockingly, you can still have a good show without focussing on the romance. Like, it can be there, I’m not saying don’t put it in, I’m saying DON’T MAKE IT THE MOST IMPORTANT THING! Like, the entirety of season one was Scott chasing Allison and Stiles chasing Lydia. This… this does not make an interesting show? Like, is that just me? And then as the season progressed, EVERYONE had to be in a relationship? WHY? Again, haven’t seen past season four, but I mean, I know Scott and Kira were a thing, and then Stiles and Malia, and Liam and some… person? Idk. And Ethan and Danny (congrats Jeff, you get to tick your “I had representation in my show!” box, well done, gold star, or whatever). And Isaac and Allison, and Melissa and Chris (apparently?). And then Stydia was alluded as being canon, and Scott ended up with Malia somehow?? And Derek slept with half the town and all of Mexico, idek. Like, stop it. Stop. Shows work without everything being about everyone banging each other. (See again: Brooklyn-nine-nine, or Avatar the Last Airbender, or The Good Place, or even fucking Supernatural!) You can have a good, interesting story without everyone banging each other. It ain’t necessary.

5) More actual storytelling (again, this woulda worked better without the unnecessary romances taking up 49 of the 50 minutes of air-time). Like, yes, I get it, pilot’s gotta have some pizzaz! Gotta be spicy and sparkly to make people interested (and like, fucking hell, all I can remember of the pilot is sobbing Allison soaking wet–LIKE, WAS THAT NECESSARY???–about the dog she hit and oh noes is it dead well thank God the lead character works for a vet! And somehow has keys and access to the whole clinic like nbd at all hours? Whatever. I wasn’t even allowed inside my blockbuster as a shift lead if it was off-hours but apparently a high school student doing paperwork at a vet clinic is different, I’m not a vet so what do I know? I HAD A BAD DAY OKAY, I GOT FEELINGS ABOUT THIS RN!) I went off-topic, what was I saying? Oh yes, storytelling. You know what woulda been nice? Werewolves! It happens, we find out about Laura, we find out about Werewolves, Scott gets bitten, all that jazz. And then like… ease in the Hunters? Like, why was there Laura/Derek, Peter, AND the Hunters all crammed into the pilot? Yes, I get it, you need the SUSPENSE and the DRAMA, but you can do that without the Hunters right off the bat. Just, how CONVENIENT~ that the same day Derek and Laura come back, Hunters move to town? That’s just lazy, and again, I can be guilty of laziness, I admit to it, but I literally get paid in—like, do hearts count? I get paid in hearts and pats on the back for my fics, I can write whatever I want. If you’re getting paid to write something, try a bit harder, yes? Yes???

What number am I on? Oh good Lord, I got things to say, okay.

6) MAGIC! Can you like—I feel like this one is self-explanatory. Stiles did the whole mountain ash thing in season one, and it was SO PROMISING, and then that just died. It died like Maes Hughes getting shot in a phonebooth (spoiler, but really, you haven’t seen that yet, that’s a you problem). Why even bother introducing magic if you weren’t gonna use it? Like, was it because people like Stiles more than Scott and the showrunner was like “nonono. If we make him magic, he’s TOO cool, and then Scott is unimportant.” I mean, you coulda worked that in your favour, but no. You just murdered the fuck out of it, like straight up took it out back and shot it. Like, yeah, Derek went kiddo again and Jennifer was apparently all magic beauty spell or whatever, but like?? That’s it??? You had a show about Werewolves and you didn’t even try to make it more interesting by making some of the characters magic? Lydia’s basically the closest and they didn’t even explain her powers that well. Magic would’ve been dope and they totally shoved that to the side. That was dumb. Shoulda done something with that.

7) Explain things more? Don’t mention them once and then do nothing? Like, we got some brief stuff about anchors, and emissaries (which are super duper secret according to Deaton but then like, EVERYONE KNOWS HE IS EMISSARY SO WHICH IS IT DEATON? YOU TELL ME!) Like, they had so much opportunity to talk about so many things and again, maybe that comes out more in the later seasons, idk, but they likely coulda done with more explanations and they didn’t and this angers me GREATLY. They mention something once and then it never comes up again. That’s some Lost bullshit right there. Don’t start something if you’re not gonna commit. You tell me the beginning of the story, I wanna fucking know the end, don’t forget halfway through and wander away, that ain’t right, I NEED ANSWERS JEFF! And like, as above, never really got Lydia’s powers. I know what a Banshee is, but her powers did NOT make sense to me. Idk, could just be that I’m dumb, but similarly, don’t write something so convoluted that it confuses people, that is also dumb. As dumb as I am so like, well done there. And also do we get more on Parrish? I know he’s a Hellhound, but how does one get born a Hellhound and not know until you are conveniently lit on fire by someone trying to kill you for money? (Also, you bean, you absolute treasure, “I’m worth five dollars?” You’re so cute. Silly child.) I feel like being a Hellhound is something that woulda come up before getting barbecued in his cruiser. Like, he works a stressful job, you gonna tell me not ONCE while getting shot at he didn’t have a massive heart attack over a close call and like, burst into flames? No? Is that just a me thing? I feel like the slightest annoyance and I’d be fully on fire, not gonna lie. (I’d be on fire a LOT… CLEARLY I AM AN ANGRY PERSON! No, that’s not true. No yes it is, I am angry, but more angry lately because I’m sleep-deprived and work is dumb ANYWAY back to this)

8) EMBRACE THE SIDE CHARACTERS! Okay, so MAYBE Scott is meant to be the golden child. The Dick Grayson of the show, if you will. The original Robin, the creme de la creme. That’s all fine and dandy if he is, no judgement (little judgement), but you know what you don’t do when your side characters are getting a lot of attention and love? What you DO NOT do is give them less screen time. Because then you’re being petty and, shockingly, you get more positive results when you give the fans what they want. I’m not talking about pairings, because everyone is different, and you can’t cater to everyone, but like, the more people moved away from liking Scott, the harder the showrunners pushed him into our faces. And like, that isn’t how this works. If I like side character 87 a lot, and the lead’s getting annoying, you know what’s gonna make me NOT watch the show? Cutting out side character 87 (hey, for shits and gigs, let’s call him DANNY, just, not coincidentally at all) and then just shoving the lead into my face. That is what makes someone go “Well, four seasons is enough, I can happily live knowing I didn’t waste my life watching two more of them.” Like??? I’m not saying cut out Scott, because the show is ABOUT Scott, but the more everyone tried to showcase how amazing and wonderful and pure and perfect he was, the more annoying it got? Like, Scott has flaws. THEY ALL HAVE FLAWS! If you don’t admit that they all have flaws, it gets boring, and you hate the characters. I know that Scott turned into a douche later (apparently, again, haven’t seen it), but even in the early seasons by trying to make him this pure True Alpha golden angel child who spreads love and hope and trusts everyone, it just got boring. He was vanilla, and also a bad friend, because he was too “perfect” to be around someone “imperfect” like Stiles, and even like, the rest of the pack overall. He was always put on a pedestal and it made the show really… irksome? Idk, I just feel like yes, SCOTT is the Teen Wolf, but you added all these damn side characters, maybe use them a bit more? At least Stiles was interesting, and Lydia was fucking badass, and fucking hell, if you’d done right by Boyd and Erica, the actors wouldn’t have left for better shows so like, come on man, you coulda done better. We coulda had such a dope show, why you gotta crush my dreams like that Jeff? What did I ever do to you?

I know this is only eight, but this is long enough, if I go two more, this is gonna be IN.SANE. And also it’s late and I haven’t finished my fic for the day (I mean, I’m almost done, but I’m not done yet!) So like, I’ma stop here. But yes, hopefully this answered your question. Sorry I got REALLY PASSIONATE about it but it’s been a day.

Also, I feel this needs to be said, but obviously these are my own personal opinions, and as opinions, you are not obligated to agree with them. But you are also not allowed to tell me my opinion is wrong. You can disagree with it, but this is an opinion, not a law, so there is no right and wrong. Don’t @ me, my day’s been bad enough kthx!

HAVE A GOOD NIGHT, BE BACK IN LIKE TWENTY(?) MINUTES!

[bigskydreaming]

Scott “I am an alpha! You have no idea what I can do!” McCall is not a victim of his peers and he doesn’t have a low self-esteem, lol. In fact, Scott actively mocks, uses, violates, and dehumanizes others and assaults his peers out of jealousy in the actual show. Stop trying to paint Scott as some sort of poor mistreated wooby who’s too good and kind for his evil ungrateful friends please

Hey thanks for the spite-writing session, y’know, that thing I told you last time was literally the only thing I had to say to you about anything ever.....the way you just....inspire me to write TW fic about what I like and not cater to your obsessive need to fight over your staggeringly dishonest takes, because lololol you really just do not matter?

Anyway, so here’s what I just wrote for the next chapter of my fic WWTA, that I’ve been struggling to get back into, so thanks for the motivation! I think this chapter has like, three more scenes in it, in case you’ve got any more pointless annoying messages you want to send me, to like, help me out with the energy to write those too! 

*****

Chapter Five

Freshmen were kind of adorable, Allison decided a week into the mentoring program. At least that was something.

The way Liam lit up as she and her friends made their way to the freshmen down the hall was particularly endearing. She had to keep her glare from surfacing and pinning Brett against the lockers he leaned against, right beside Liam, Mason, Garrett and Violet. What had begun as a way to repay the debt she felt to Scott while still doing her duty had quickly graduated to true protective instincts for the young teenagers. A slight shudder ran through her body as she remembered the gashes across Scott’s chest and the defeat in his eyes -

- none of us wanted this, but it happened and we’re stuck now -

No. That would not be happening to Liam and his friends. Not on her watch.

“Hello children. And how is everyone this morning?”

Lydia made even her casual greetings a regal proclamation. It was with no small amount of amusement that Allison watched the freshmen war between their instinctive reaction to being labeled ‘children’ and their awe at being on first names basis with the undisputed queen of Beacon Hills High. This was all wildly against the natural order of things. Her eyes drifted in Brett’s direction to find his narrowed at her, and her good humor evaporated. Ugh. Why couldn’t she ever have nice things?

“Everyone’s coming to my place after school, right? Your first archery lessons!” Allison cut in before any of the freshmen could muster a response to Lydia.  Brett flinched, and a dangerous grin worked its way across her lips. She might not be the only predator interested in these kids, but she could damn well make sure her competition knew she was bringing claws of her own to the fight.

“For sure!” Liam enthused. “I still can’t believe you know how to shoot a bow and arrow. And your parents are really cool with you teaching us?”

“Oh yeah, no big deal,” Allison shrugged. In truth, it hadn’t been. Even if her father might have had slight reservations, Grandpa Gerard had practically salivated at the notion of her starting a How To Kill Werewolves 101 course for local teens. He was already planning how to use this to start recruiting new hunters from Allison’s handpicked group. She wasn’t about to let things get that far, but Brett didn’t need to know that. Let him worry.

“I still don’t think Allison’s parents are the only ones who should have been informed of this little extracurricular,” Danny said. “Isn’t this the kind of thing that should require signed consent forms from everyone’s parents?”

“Oh, live a little Danny,” Allison said. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“No, but the sharp pointy sticks might hurt their kids, and then there are these things called lawsuits…”

“Don’t be such a Danny Downer,” Stiles said. He clapped their friend on the back, but his eyes were on her. “I’m sure Allison knows exactly what she’s doing.”

She smirked back.

“I can’t make it,” Brett spoke up at last, sparking cries of complaint from his ‘friends.’

“What the hell man, I thought we were all gonna do this?”

As much as Allison hated to admit it, she wasn’t sure she did know what she was doing though. She had her work cut out for her in trying to drive a wedge between Liam and Brett. The younger boy had latched onto the sophomore as a confidant before they’d gotten their mentoring program up and running, and Brett’s claws were already in deep. Liam idolized the kid, and it didn’t help that whatever she might know about the pack’s true nature, to everyone else they were simply the cool, mysterious bad-asses that everyone secretly wanted to know more about.

“Got stuff to deal with at home,” was all the taller boy said, deliberately vague. She considered that. Was he just trying to get out of going to a hunter’s house - not that she’d ever expected he’d show, really - or was that code for the pack would be up to something later?

“Family stuff?” Allison asked casually.

“More like chores at the group home I live at. My family’s dead,” Brett retorted. She wondered if anyone else picked up on the bitter menace underscoring his calm tone.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“How could you? It’s not like peoples’ families being murdered by burning their houses down around them is an everyday thing. Who would ever think that was a thing that happened as often as it does?”

“Jesus,” Mason whispered in horror. The other freshmen looked as sick as she felt suddenly, and she felt her own friends shuffle uncomfortably behind her. That hadn’t come up in her research at all, but she didn’t doubt for a second that the werewolf was being truthful. The naked pain in his eyes was entirely too human for that.

“I didn’t know,” Allison repeated again. It wasn’t an excuse, it was just all she had. He snorted.

“Whatever. I’ve gotta go. Be careful with them, yeah?”

She bit her lip and nodded, wondering how much he really knew about what she was doing. Had Scott clued in any of his pack about her plans? He’d seemed protective of Brett, and the younger boy seemed to be one of the ones who followed his lead over Cora’s, but who knew how pack politics really worked…god, could she just have five complete moments to feel on top of things and not totally in over her head?

“Damn,” Violet said once Brett had disappeared around a corner in the hall. “I mean, I knew he was an orphan too, but I didn’t know he had…shit.”

“Well, he probably doesn’t advertise because he doesn’t want people gossiping about it,” Allison said. Jackson and Danny nodded in agreement, the freshmen looking thoughtful, but Lydia and Stiles were both just watching her, the same as they’d been through she and Brett’s entire little tété-a-tété. Feeling an abrupt need to be elsewhere, she chose the better part of valor and fled. “Look, I gotta get going too, but you all have directions, right? See you after school!”

Weak, Allison.

She circled the school, doing a lap across the quad and around the outer edges of the buildings to calm herself. Almost predictably at this point, her efforts were thwarted by the appearance of one Scott McCall sitting cross-legged on the grass behind the Liberal Arts building.

[when-they-write-stuff]

For the fic prompts bc these three were overwhelmingly asked: “I’m dying and I’m confessing my love for you” & “I’m scared but won’t admit it so you take my hand” & “You took a bullet for me”

pairing: sterek

wc: 2604

warnings: open ending, violence

Sometimes, Stiles forgot that he was the most unlikely person in the pack to have a happy ending.

It struck him like a blow to the chest whenever he remembered that he was a human among wolves. Between the hunters, the constant threats, and the of the things that they faced on the daily, Stiles was the most likely to not make it through the fights. 

He didn’t have super healing. He had a baseball bat and his wits and sometimes he realized that one day, that wasn’t going to be enough.

So yeah, Stiles always knew there was a chance he lost his happy ending. But he didn’t like to stop and focus on that.

It was a little depressing when he did.

Sitting bound in a dingy warehouse, Stiles once more reflected on these things. One day, he was so going to get out of Beacon Hills. He was going to get out of Beacon Hills and go somewhere far, far away where there were no hunters and no supernatural assholes to put him in the hospital every other week.

Stiles was not a fan. 

He was very firmly trying to avoid looking at the werewolf opposite him, but that wasn’t easy. Stiles didn’t understand how whenever he was kidnapped, Derek seemed to be there with him. The man had supernatural strength; Stiles didn’t. Derek was supposed to be the big badass that got them out of this, not hung in chains opposite of him.

Derek’s shirt hung off him in tatters and he was still unconscious. Stiles didn’t like looking at the empty bullet wound in his shoulder, where one of the hunters had dug the bullet out— much to Stiles’s retching.

Stiles just… he just… he was tired. Of this, of Beacon Hills. Shifting in his position on the floor, he worked his bound hands for a moment before sighing. Stiles was tired. Yeah, that’s what he was.

It took Derek a little longer to wake up.

The man came back to consciousness angry, snarling, and flashing his red eyes. Stiles waited in his spot until Derek’s fight had died down and then he sighed, raising an eyebrow at the man.

“Why good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Stiles, what the hell is this?”

“A good question,” Stiles said. Then he furrowed his brows and backtracked. “Actually, no it’s not. I totally get being kidnapped out of the literal school parking lot for this token human but dude, what the hell? How did they get you?”

Derek shifted again and then winced. He flexed his arm and Stiles flinched away as the bullet wound in his shoulder started to bleed again. “I was shot.”

“I noticed.”

“With wolfsbane.”

“Shut up, Sourwolf, I got to watch the whole ‘digging it out’ process, so you don’t even have room to talk. I’m pretty sure was more painful for me than it was for you because you were unconscious and I was retching.”

Derek rolled his eyes. He moved again and the chains clanged together. The man tugged on them, shifted around once more, and then sighed. 

“Have they hurt you?”

Stiles snorted. The man gave him a flat look. 

“When they come, don’t fight back.”

“I’m well-rehearsed on being kidnapped every other week, dude. I know the basics of not getting myself killed.”

“I’m serious, Stiles.”

“So am I!”

A little bit of red leaked into the man’s eyes. But before he could say another word, the door of the warehouse opened and Stiles straightened as a new hunter came into sight. Stiles didn’t recognize him from earlier, but he did recognize the cattle prod in his hand and that sent a jolt of fear shuddering down his spine.

The hunter didn’t even acknowledge him, though. He went straight to Derek, head tilting as he studied the man’s shoulder. Then he pressed a thumb into it and Stiles shied back as Derek snarled.

“Oh,” the man said. “That looks painful.”

“Asshole.”

Stiles hadn’t really meant to say that aloud but it slipped out anyway. The hunter turned around, one eyebrow raising, and Stiles cursed himself silently.

“The boy who runs with wolves,” the man said, moving closer. “Don’t like seeing your mutt get hurt?”

“Can we skip the back and forth and jump straight into why the hell we’re here?” Stiles said, raising his chin despite Derek’s soft growls. “Cause I’m a teenager and not a werewolf, and I’m pretty sure you hunters are supposed to have a code.”

“Not a werewolf,” the man said, waving a hand through the air. “Not a mutt. Just a boy in over his head playing with the wolves.”

Stiles glared. The man smirked. 

“You’re not here for much. A little bit of incentive, a little bit of bait. I’m hoping your dog will talk when I ask him about the rest of his pack but we can’t count on that, now can we?”

“Screw you.”

Stiles only got a thin-lipped smile. The hunter turned back toward Derek, who snarled again. Suddenly, the cattle prod was pressing against the man’s shoulder, Stiles heard the buzz of electricity, and he screwed his eyes tightly shut as Derek screamed.

“Tell me about the rest of the mutts,” the hunter said. “I’m curious.”

Silence reigned. Then Stiles heard the spark of electricity again and flinched automatically as Derek’s shout filled the air once more.

“I’m not a terribly patient man, Hale.”

When Stiles opened his eyes again, Derek was just glaring. The hunter smirked and let the prod buzz again, his smirk widening at Derek’s wince. Stiles tried to swallow down a litany of curses, meeting Derek’s eyes from over the hunter’s shoulder. He offered his best nod and could’ve sworn Derek’s glare softened a little.

Stiles wasn’t sure how many hours passed after that.

He kept thinking that sooner or later, Scott and the rest of the pack would come bursting through the warehouse doors and everything would be okay. But that never happened. By the time Derek was hanging heavy and limp in the chairs, and the hunter turned toward Stiles with a sick grin, hours had passed. And Stiles was pretty sure they were alone.

They were alone in this.

He finally let himself curse as the hunter untied the ropes and pulled Stiles to his feet. The man dragged him across the room and shoved him back to his knees in front of Derek, and Stiles really tried to not let his panic show. But he was pretty sure he failed as red bled into Derek’s eyes and once more, the man yanked on his chains.

“Come on, Hale,” the hunter said. “Do you really want me to make you choose? I hate to make you choose.”

“Don’t touch him.”

“And there you have it. So, tell me. The human or the pack?”

“Don’t,” Stiles said. “Don’t, Derek, dammit—”

He cut off as something buzzed and then Stiles screamed, unable to hold it in. The electricity that jumped through his body like fire and he’d never wanted to experience something like this. Ever. Derek roared and yanked forward, chains clanging, and Stiles was pretty sure it was only the hunter’s grip that kept him from dropping sideways.

His vision spotted. He wondered if this was what happened when someone put a fork in a power outlet. The hunter carded a hand through Stiles’s hair and tightened his grip, pulling his chin up a little.

“Got anything to say, Hale?”

“Stiles—”

“Don’t,” Stiles said, cutting him off. “Don’t, Derek. I’m fine, I’m okay, and I—”

Electricity jolted through his entire body again. Stiles bit down another scream, just making a warbling noise of pain this time. Derek looked utterly broken.

Stiles’s chest rose and fell in pants. He was definitely only being held up by the hunter’s grip on his hair now. He was pretty sure he could taste something iron in his mouth. Or maybe that was just his heart pounding all the way up in his skull.

“I don’t think the boy can take as many of these as you can, Hale,” the hunter said, dragging the cattle prod across Stiles’s shoulder but not turning it on. Stiles smothered a whimper and Derek flinched. “Do you really want to play this game?”

Derek didn’t say a word. His eyes never left Stiles’s face.

The hunter sighed and Stiles tensed. But the man only pulled the cattle prod back. For a moment, all he could do was blink in confusion.

Then there was a click and Stiles went stock-still as the cool muzzle of a handgun touched his temple. His heart leaped into his throat and Derek yanked forward again, teeth snapping. 

“Don’t!”

“I don’t want to, mutt. Don’t make me shoot a teenager.”

“Please,” Derek said. “Don’t.”

“Tell me about the rest of the werewolves in Beacon Hills.”

Derek looked back at Stiles with terror in his eyes. Stiles tried to shake his head but then the hunter pressed the gun more firmly against his head and all he could do was close his eyes, body tensing up. For a moment, silence reigned.

The hunter sighed. Stiles shivered at the sound.

But suddenly, there was the distant ringing of gunshots and a series of shouts. The hunter straightened, pulling the gun away, and Stiles took that moment to leap for his abandoned cattle prod. Derek shouted his name, Stiles rolled, and then electricity cut through the air once more.

The hunter hit the ground. Stiles shoved himself up, racing toward Derek as the warehouse doors burst open and the fighting spilled in.

“Stiles, go,” Derek said, pulling away as he approached. “Get out of here.”

“Shut up, Sourwolf.” Stiles looked over the chains and then retreated back toward the hunter, searching him for the key. The man groaned and Stiles jabbed the cattle prod back into his gut, turning it on again. The man convulsed a few times before going still again.

Stiles turned back toward Derek, quickly unlocking his chains. The man all but dropped and Stiles only just managed to catch him. Derek leaned heavily against his side, one arm slung over Stiles’s shoulder. 

“Okay, big guy. Let’s get you out of here. Yeah?”

Derek just grunted, face turned into Stiles’s neck. Then he tensed. Stiles gave him a confused look before he heard the click of a trigger. The echo of a gunshot.

Stiles’s blood went cold.

Derek shouted his name as he moved without thinking, dropping the man and angling his body sideways. For a moment, Stiles felt nothing. And then he felt everything�� it was like he’d been punched in the stomach. Stiles gasped, stumbling back, and when he placed a hand to his stomach, it came back wet. Red. The smell of iron filled his nose.

Stiles dropped to the floor, gasping in pain.

Faintly, he could hear the sound of the fighting going on a little ways away. Derek roared, there was a blur of movement, and then a scream that cut off. Stiles closed his eyes, clawing at the wound, and then Derek dropped down beside him, gentle fingers cupping his head.

“Stiles, fuck, Stiles.”

“That was dumb,” Stiles said, snorting weakly. “Oh my god, that was so dumb, right? I don’t think the bullet was wolfsbane.”

“It’s still in you.”

“Oh. That’s… that’s not good, right?”

Derek looked downright terrified. Stiles still tried to find the wound, fingers scrabbling weakly, but his stomach was slippery with blood now. And it hurt. It hurt so bad.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said, and Stiles realized he’d said all of that out loud. He tried to laugh but ended up gasping in pain, the taste of iron filling his mouth.

“I’m not used to the unhappy endings,” Stiles said, blood staining his teeth. He was terrified, to be honest, heart pounding against his chest as fear crashed over him. But he still offered up his best grin, before squeezing his eyes tightly shut and taking another gasping breath. “I always hoped I’d get someone other than an unhappy ending. Kinda stupid, right?”

“Shut up,” Derek growled. The man’s eyes searched him up and down, very obviously ignoring the bullet wound. “Shut up, you’re going to be fine.”

Stiles didn’t think so. His throat tightened and he realized he wasn’t going to be fine. This didn’t have a simple solution. This didn’t have an easy way out. And it… it was going to kill his dad.

This was going to kill his dad.

Derek’s voice brought him back to reality, hand squeezing Stiles’s tightly as he looked back up at the man’s face. Stiles didn’t understand why Derek looked so pained until he realized his cheeks were damp, tears sliding down in streaks. Stiles barked a shuddering laugh, before taking a gasping breath again.

“Sorry, Sourwolf. I’m not being emotional, I swear.”

“Stop talking, Stiles.”

“You don’t want me to stop talking,” Stiles said. “What if this is the last time you get to hear me ramble again? You’d regret telling me to shut up. You know you would.”

“It’s not the last of anything.”

“I’m just human, buddy,” Stiles said. His heart twisted and he held onto Derek’s hand tighter, like a life force. “I’m just human.”

“I know, Stiles.”

“I don’t heal like you do.”

“I know.”

“I’m dying, Derek.”

The man’s face twisted. Around them, the fighting had quieted, and Stiles startled when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. But they cut off sharply a little ways away and when he heard the croaky “S-Stiles?” he knew there was no way he was going to survive this.

“Scott could give you the bite,” Derek said quietly. Stiles blinked.

“What?”

“He doesn’t want it,” Scott said. “I won’t.”

“I didn’t want the bite,” Stiles said quietly, searching Derek’s face. “I never did.”

“You’re going to die, Stiles.”

One of the betas whined; Stiles wasn’t sure which. He curled his fingers into Derek’s sleeve and tried to shake his head, but he felt a little woozy now. Like he wasn’t fully there. Derek said something that he didn’t catch and he gripped the man’s hand tighter.

He didn’t want to die, Stiles realized. He didn’t want to leave his dad.

Or Derek.

Scott could do it. But Stiles didn’t want that. He searched Derek’s face, swallowing hard. 

Words formed in his mouth but his tongue felt heavy. Sentences of ‘I want you to do it’ and ‘I don’t want to go’ all melded together. When Stiles finally managed to speak, a dozen things spinning through the heavy fog of his brain, the only thing that came out was ‘Want you’ and Derek’s eyes widened.

Stiles was pretty sure that’s not what he’d meant. But he couldn’t get anything else out. The world was dipping to grey around him. Stiles felt his eyelids fluttering closed, fingers curling into Derek’s sleeve even tighter until they slipped off.

He was dying and he was terrified.

He was terrified and unable to form words as Derek said his name over and over again. There was the sound of movement. Derek barked something that Stiles didn’t catch. And then he was being pulled into the man’s chest.

There was a pinch of something right above his collar bone. Stiles thought he cried out, but he wasn’t sure. He thought he felt blood trickle down his shoulder, as if he hadn’t already lost enough.

Someone was yelling. 

And his last thought before everything went black was ‘Want you’. 

He wanted Derek. 

- -

Oh, this one was fun. I don’t usually write open endings but I didn’t want to launch into a 5k+ story just yet so... there could be another part at some point? Perhaps. I hope you all enjoyed!

(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your struggling student writer? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

[endof-theline]

Day 26- Tropetember: Supernatural

Day 26 of super early Tropetember with Supernatural! Growing up, Steve always whined about how badly he wanted a dog, Bucky could have guessed that it would end up biting him in the ass.

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32841991

Growing up, Steve always whined about how badly he wanted a dog, Bucky could have guessed that it would end up biting him in the ass. The pair always knew that they would move in together in the future so Bucky really should have told Steve his secret instead of keeping it locked up and close to his chest, this secret was probably right next to the secret about how deeply he loved Steve.

Now they were walking around an adoption shelter and Bucky was having to keep himself in check to make sure he didn’t out himself, see the problem with Steve and Bucky getting a dog was as simple as the fact Bucky is a werewolf and being a werewolf with a strong love for Steve made it very difficult to watch as dog after dog jumped at Steve and made him laugh. The dogs were all avoiding Bucky, normally because they could sense that Bucky was angry and was probably scenting just as much.

“Isn’t this amazing, Buck?” Steve chirped excitedly and it was only because Steve had said his name that Bucky turned his scowl into a smile, the name was the only thing that pulled out of Bucky’s own head and tuned back into what was going on “You like any of them yet?”

“Sure, few of them are cute I guess” Bucky shrugged a shoulder but kept smiling at Steve, he had to cough to cover his growl when a dog jumped at Steve even as Steve laughed and easily pushed the dog away carefully. Bucky bit his tongue when the dog that had leapt at Steve licked at his face, it reminded him of himself when he was a pup and he was always told off when he did it so why did this dog get away with it and get cuddled as well!

Luckily for Bucky, their time was up and Steve agreed to wait on it, Bucky let out a small sigh of relief when they got to walk away without a dog. He wanted to make Steve happy, but bringing a dog into their apartment would drive him insane so Bucky vowed that he would tell Steve this secret tonight.

It was easy to tell he was making Steve nervous, but Bucky couldn’t help the pacing as he tried to work up the courage. This was something that Bucky had kept from Steve for years, they have been best friends since they were kids and the whole time Bucky had kept his werewolf nature a complete secret.

“Okay so I need to tell you something and I should have told you years ago, but it’s never been a huge problem until now” Bucky started off and he could see Steve sit up straight as he nodded along, Bucky took a deep breath before stopping in front of Steve and looking him in the eyes “I’m a werewolf, I was born a werewolf, I’m the only sibling that’s a wolf, and us getting a dog is kind of difficult for me”

“Oh, okay, not what I was thinking but alright” Steve let out a breath as he sat back against the couch, Bucky desperately tried to stop himself from pacing again or worse since all his wolf wanted to do was jump onto the couch and give Steve all of the cuddles to cheer him up.

“I understand if you want me to move out or you don’t want me in your life anymore and I’m really sorry that I’ve been keeping this from you” Bucky rambled out anxiously and before he could blink Steve was on his feet and holding Bucky’s shoulders, a determined look on his face as he caught Bucky’s attention and held it.

“I don’t want any of that, Buck, you’re my best friend and I’m so glad you trust me with this. You shoulda told me that it would make your life harder, I wouldn’t have dragged you to the shelter!” Steve told him with a laugh as Bucky ducked his head down bashfully, he had never imagined Steve accepting this part of him so easily and now that it was happening Bucky couldn’t remember why he thought Steve was going to throw him out “So is it like in the movies when you only shift on a full moon or can you do it whenever?”

“The movies are trash, whoever decided that I’m some mindless, killing machine should be in prison for crimes against my kind! Forget anything films taught you about werewolves because it’s mostly wrong” Bucky grumbled angrily making Steve laugh hard at him before Bucky shook his head “I can shift whenever I want, but it’s like getting an urge to scratch at a rash. It’s uncomfortable to ignore it but I can if I need to, it’s also better for me to shift on full moons than not too. Oh, and I’m fully in control of myself, we don’t go feral or whatever”

“Good to know, so you could shift right now if you wanted too?” Steve asked and immediately looked excited by the idea “Can I see you shifted?”

“Sure you can, we just can’t talk when I’m shifted so if you have anymore questions then get that out first” Bucky explained and laughed when Steve just shook his head, a smile still wide on the blonde man’s face “Alright, so like I said I’m still me but I always have like a wolf in my brain and when I’m shifted it’s harder to control my instincts so if I act really wolfy, that’s why”

Steve just nodded and sat back on the couch when Bucky pushed him down before darting into his room to strip off his clothes and shift into his wolf, he stretched out and enjoyed the feeling of freedom that came with being shifted. He strolled back into the living room and quickly remember that his wolf brain was also in love with Steve and he fell even further in love with the man when Steve sat forward and he grinned excitedly, he was resisting cooing at Bucky and the wolf knew it so he quickly padded over to him.

“You are so cute” Steve whispered like Bucky wouldn’t hear him and Bucky just sat at his feet with a huff, a look on his face that conveyed how unimpressed he was by that comment “This is so cool, y’know having you as a roommate is like having a dog but I don’t have to take you to a vet or do the gross stuff”

Bucky huffed again and shook his head before nudging Steve’s hand with his nose, encouraging Steve to pet him and immediately leaning into his hands the second Steve touched him as he let out a quiet rumble. His wolf was pleading with Bucky to roll over and let Steve rub his belly or jump on the couch and rub his scent all over Steve so that all the dogs at the shelter would know that Steve was taken, but Bucky kept himself in check since this was the first time Steve was seeing him like this.

“How upset would you be if I took you to a pet store to buy you a collar and lead so we could go on walks like this?” Steve asked and burst out with a startled laugh when Bucky’s tail wagged immediately, his human brain not even being able to deny how much he would love to go on walks with Steve in this form or even join him on his morning runs “What about tomorrow since we’re both off work?”

Bucky barked excitedly and nodded his head before he couldn’t stop himself from giving Steve’s hand an affectionate lick, he could taste the other dogs on Steve’s hand and couldn’t stop himself yet again as he growled softly and lapped at his hands.

“Taste good or something, Buck?” Steve teased him before Bucky let out a grumpy growl and nipped at his fingers a little to really drive home the fact Bucky was annoyed at him, sure Steve didn’t know why and Bucky sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him, but that was Steve’s problem.

The rest of the night was spent with Steve fussing over Bucky for a little while longer until Bucky shifted back and answered more questions that Steve had, Bucky thought he did very well in not growling at Steve when he was teased mercilessly over his instincts and ignored Steve’s rude comments about dog treats.

Bucky was starting to think that he shouldn’t have let his wolf brain answer Steve about the pet store because now Bucky was sat in front of Steve as the blonde was helping Bucky pick out a collar, Steve was currently trying to fit a collar that was black and red around Bucky’s neck without catching any of his fur.

“How’s that feeling, good?” Steve asked and grinned when Bucky nodded and shook his body to settle it around his throat “Looks good, and they have a matching lead too” Steve clipped the lead to Bucky’s collar making the wolf grumble slightly as his instincts argued for a moment that he shouldn’t want to be tied to Steve like this but also this is Steve holding the lead. Steve laughed at him before leading him down an aisle full of toys, Bucky whined and tugged at his lead as he tried to avoid Steve’s teasing because he remembered what his sister was like with him as a pup.

As soon as Steve found out his weakness then it was over for him, and it took Steve all of ten seconds to find and exploit said weakness. He picked up a ball and made it squeak before he had Bucky at his feet with his tail wagging excitedly and his tongue hanging out his mouth, looking just like those dogs at the shelter that he hated.

“Oh you like the ball, huh?” Steve teased and squeaked the wall again, Bucky tilted his head as he whined desperately and shuffled on his paws in the hopes of getting to play “We can’t play in the store, Buck, but we can definitely buy it to play with later”

Bucky whined and butted his head against Steve’s legs sadly, the temptation to whimper and give Steve puppy eyes just for the chance to play was so strong. That is until a dog came rushing down the aisle and straight to Steve, barking and yapping at him which turned off Bucky’s human brain in an instant as he shoved his way between Steve and the dog as he growled angrily.

“Bucky, easy, he’s just playing” Steve cooed at him and gently tugged at his leash to try and pull him away, the yappy dog’s owner came running down the aisle and clipped it’s lead onto it’s harness before Steve snapped at him “Bucky, heal and silent”

Bucky grumbled but moved to Steve’s side and sat down, his eyes narrowed at the offending mutt as he stayed silent and the owner quickly rushed to apologize “I’m so sorry, I had no clue my kid had unclipped his lead until he was running, are you and your dog okay?”

“We’re fine, little guy just spooked Bucky is all but no harm done” Steve said with a grin on his face, Bucky just knew that Steve was trying not to laugh at the man calling Bucky ‘his dog’ and at the pause the man did before saying ‘dog’ like he wasn’t quite sure if that was correct or not.

“I’m glad, Bucky’s so well trained, I’ve never seen a dog so well trained before!” The man said before they could hear a voice calling from the other side of the store “Shoot, I gotta run, sorry about Buddy again!”

Steve waited until the man was out of sight before he started laughing his head off, letting Bucky growl and nip at his hands when Steve reached out to pet him “It’s a good job you’re so well trained Bucky, should buy you a treat for being such a good dog”

Bucky’s tail started to wag excitedly at Steve’s words before he suddenly realised that Steve was still laughing and that it was just another joke, Steve was laughing harder after seeing Bucky’s tail wagging but quickly caught himself when Bucky tucked his tail between his legs and flattened his ears sadly.

“Oh Buck, I’m sorry, do you want a treat for real? We can find you a bone or something” Steve cooed at him again as he crouched down to scratch behind Bucky’s ear and ruffle his fur gently, Bucky leant into his hands with a nod and subtly scented Steve’s hands to make sure the annoying dog didn’t get his scent on Steve at all “Come on then, let’s get the ball and find you a treat”

Bucky nodded and happily stayed at Steve’s side the whole time while they walked through the store, helping Steve pick out some natural treats that smelt super good to Bucky and missed the way Steve looked at him when he scrambled under a shelf to retrieve a ball that had rolled under it and held it up proudly in his mouth. Bucky also missed the way Steve stashed other things into his basket without Bucky seeing them, too busy watching someone that was carrying a tiny dog in their bag to notice the dog tag Steve got engraved until he clipped the red star tag onto his collar with a smile on his face.

When they got home from the store, Bucky immediately rushed into his room and shifted before he realised his mistake as the collar was still wrapped around his neck and his fingers always took a minute to work before he could use his fine motor skills after being shifted for a while. Bucky thought about hiding until he could do it himself but soon heard Steve calling him from the living room and knew that he was going to have to face Steve.

“Stevie, I could use some human hands” Bucky whined pitifully, hoping if he made himself look all sad and needy Steve would be kinder to him. Steve betrayed him in an instant as he laughed at him making Bucky frown and let out a sad little whine, knowing that Steve wouldn’t judge him for his nature after the day they’ve had “C’mon Steve, I can’t do it straight after a shift”

“How come?” Steve asked even as he wandered over to Bucky, brushing his long hair away from his neck to fiddle away at Bucky’s collar.

“Things like undoing a buckle is hard after not having fingers for several hours, it comes back to me in a couple minutes but I don’t want to accidentally scratch it up” Bucky explained and took a deep breath when Steve took the collar off from his neck, Bucky cocked his head curiously when Steve took it over to where they hang their jackets and hung the collar on the same hook as the leash. A warm, fuzzy feeling spread in Bucky’s chest as he looked at the physical evidence of Steve’s acceptance of his wolf form, no longer having to worry about this one particular secret anymore and could focus on keeping his feelings for Steve safe without his wolf somehow exposing him.

Maybe Bucky should have noticed the bright smile on Steve’s face when Bucky found the extra treats Steve had brought for him, or the extra toys that had been stashed in a different cupboard. He definitely should have noticed when he was chewing on a toy happily in his wolf form and Steve was taking pictures of him with the same fond grin, when Steve called Bucky to lay on the couch with him and let Bucky lay all over his chest with his head pressed to Steve’s neck.

Bucky was oblivious for now, but he was happy to be accepted and was happy to be in love with his best friend in private… at least, for now.

[blog-sliverofjade]

Of Doms & Subs 1: Can't Stop Here, This is Wolf Country

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: 6238

Master List

           “Please, please, please let me get as far as Tacoma,” I begged the flagging gas gauge of my trusty old lime green Jeep.  Experience told me that it was wishful thinking because traffic was bound to hit before Everett.  There was undoubtedly a Seattle pack and the fewer the stops in their area, the smaller the chance of getting picked up by the local werewolves.

           A schoolbus drew parallel to me in the left lane so a giant cartoon lupine mascot filled my peripheral vision.  “Can’t stop here, this is wolf country,” I muttered.

          If I barrelled through, gas up in Tacoma, then I could avoid the dreaded I-5 parking lot in both Seattle and Portland on the Friday of a long weekend.  Even though I started out in the British Columbia Rockies my destination was the central Oregon Cascade mountains, it was faster to cut across lower British Columbia, down the I-5 corridor, and then back across the Willamette Valley.

          This route also happened to avoid the territory of the famous Adam Hauptmann and his pack.  Oh sure, he was the perfect gentleman in the media and his wolves were seemingly well-behaved, but you know what they say about things that are too good to be true.  I was submissive and had no delusions about where I’d end up in the hierarchy.  Hell, humans had taught me that long before I was Changed two weeks ago.  And female werewolves were inevitably absorbed into a pack because some old grand high poobah declared that we couldn’t fly solo.

          So why was I zigzagging all over the Pacific Northwest instead of rolling over like a good little bitch?  Having been submissive for over thirty years, I’d long ago learned avoidance is the best way to avoid conflict.  When that didn’t work, an acerbic tongue and short temper kept most people from getting too close to abuse that aspect of my personality.  Too many people think that passivity is a synonym for doormat.

          My luck, or rather fuel tank, ran out in the U District.  Red and blue lights lit up the rearview mirror just as I squeezed through a yellow light towards a gas station.  “Please don’t be for me, please don’t be for me,” I chanted as I pulled into the lot.

          “Of course not, when has everything gone your way on this godsforsaken trip.”  I lowered my window, plastered a meekly congenial if slightly vapid look on my face, and gripped my license and registration in a sweaty fist.

          “Good evening.”  The officer bent to look in the window.  We both stilled the instinct we caught the other’s scent.  I dropped my eyes immediately, partly to avoid staring at the scar that marred his face, and offered the documentation.  Please don’t ask any questions, I prayed silently.

          “Are you traveling by yourself, Ms. Jones?”  Whatever deities that haven’t been listening to me can go shove it.

          “Yessir.  I’m headin’ back home to Oregon from visitin’ family.”  Mostly the truth.  I did stop in Vancouver to visit my brother.  I put the Southern drawl on fairly heavy.  The twang and the manners to go with often smooth the way with people in uniform, even if I hadn’t lived South of the 44th parallel in fifteen years.

          “Oh, you have family here?”  Must remain calm.  Normal, even breaths will help control the heartrate.

          “Vancouver,” I smiled.  So what if it was Vancouver, Washington and not Vancouver, British Columbia?

          “BC?”

          “Yessir.”  His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at the blithe lie.

          “You must be a member of the Portland pack,” he said, eyeing my ID a little too closely for comfort now.

          “Yessir.”

          “I’m just gonna go run these.”  My dad was a cop and his face would go blank like that whenever he was gathering evidence of my brother’s or my misdeeds.  This was so many flavours of not good.

          The wolf watched him walk back to his car.  She liked the way he smelled.  Familiar and right.  Like family.  If she could, she would have trotted right at his heels.  At that thought, the human half kicked in and started up the engine, slammed her into gear, and peeled back out towards the onramp.

          “Smart.  Real smart, what’re we gonna do now?” I tapped the steering wheel in a staccato rhythm with my thumbs in time to the rock blaring from the sound system.  “No license, no registration, he called your plates in before saying hi, he has your address and…”  I grabbed my phone and shut it off.  If the conspiracy theorists were right, they could track me via the phone.  Is it paranoia if they really are out to get you?

          I crossed over to the 405 and stopped in Bellevue for gas, otherwise I’d be making my getaway on foot.  I leaned against the Jeep, ignoring the damp that seeped from the cold metal through my clothing, and debated the merits of taking the really scenic route of 101.  Or would they expect me to leave I-5 and thus making it the safer choice by hiding in plain sight?  My head was starting to hurt from trying to outthink them.

          The gas fumes seared my nose so I couldn’t smell the driver of the Mazda 3 that pulled up behind me until he approached the squeegee station between us.  Studiously avoiding eye contact, I screwed the cap back on and nestled the nozzle back in its hook.  Slowly, no sudden moves.

          I slid behind the wheel and as the engine turned over a cop car blazed into the station to block me against the Mazda.  It looks cool in the movies.  Less so if you’re the one trapped.  I shut off the engine, folded my arms, and leaned back in a huff.  My license and registration slipped through the three-inch gap at the top of the window.  I snatched them up and tossed them in my purse without pausing in my attempt to mentally set his car on fire.  Unfortunately, lycanthropy didn’t come with pyrokinesis.  In the movies fiery explosions usually follow when there are confrontations in gas stations.  Too bad life wasn’t imitating art in this case.

          “I take it you know the law.”  The scarred officer was not referring to any statutes written by man.  “You can either come and meet our Alpha or I can arrest you and then you can meet him.”  There was no threat in his words.  He sounded as if he were inviting me over for dinner, which might actually be the case.  I resisted the urge to hit the steering wheel.  It would likely crumple now that I had preternatural strength.

          “Fine.  So where am I following you to meet your lord and master?”

          “Matt here will be your driver,” he gestured to the guy who’d blocked me in.  Mazda Matt leaned against his car door with his arms folded across his chest, watching the exchange with a slight smirk.  “Shane will follow in your car.”  A third man I hadn’t noticed before was mirroring Matt’s pose on the other side of the car.

          I sighed and glanced at my phone.  Even if they let me use it, who would I call?  Hi big bro, I’m being kidnapped by werewolves.  Please send in the National Guard.  Tanks work against werewolves, right?  I kicked open the door, forcing the cop to quickly sidestep.  With a snarl on my lips, I chucked the heavy mass of keys attached to a carabiner at Shane.  Damned werewolf reflexes.  If he’d been human they’d have struck his temple and probably dropped him like a stone.

          Matt came forward as if to take my elbow and escort me.  “Touch me and I break your scaphoid.  They’re a bitch to heal even with regeneration,” I snapped.  Just because my wolf was happy about getting taken to meet their leader didn’t mean I had to be.  He drew back his hand, but he did open the door for me and waited till I buckled up before shutting the door.  Why buckle up if I could survive a trip through the windshield?  It’d still hurt like hell.

          “So I heard you’re from Portland,” Matt said as we merged back onto 405 in an attempt to fill the silence that was thick with my seething.

          “Look, I’m no doubt about to get grilled on all this anyway, so let’s skip the twenty questions, ok?”  He shrugged and didn’t seem put out by my rudeness.

          Eventually he turned on the radio.  I fiddled with it until finally settling on 107 the End.  I tried to suppress a smirk at his frown.  Judging by his pre-sets he liked the music just fine.  Not so much me taking control of it.  If some strange wolf was driving my Jeep, Mazda Matt could suck it up.  He should be glad I didn’t put it on country out of sheer spite.

          Thirty minutes later, due to traffic as opposed to distance, we pulled up in front of an expansive house partially obscured by trees.  I shuddered to think of the market value for the area.  They seemed to be having a party due to the sheer number of vehicles parked beside the house.  Shane pulled up as I trailed behind Matt to the door.

          The door opened to a large mudroom with hooks for coats and cubbies for shoes.  About half of them were in use.  Curiously, there were two utilitarian shower stalls that would have looked right at home in a locker room.  I followed Matt’s and Shane’s examples and removed my shoes, tucking them into one of the shelves.

          “We’re having a barbecue on Saturday, so a bunch of us are already here to watch the game,” Shane explained from behind me as I followed Matt down the hallway.  The sounds of men cheering or jeering at a TV screen echoed up from the basement.  My human half was worried about being in a house with a bunch of strange men.  My wolf on the other hand was curious and delighted by the mixture of scents that spoke of wolves.

          How to play this?  Be a general pain in the ass and risk the consequences?  Or be a good little submissive female and not only risk being assimilated, but also subordinate to everyone else.  I always believed in playing to one’s strengths, which meant plan A was go.  Besides, I’d never been accused of having the sense God gave a squirrel.

           Matt stopped by an open doorway and gestured for me to enter.  The man standing behind the desk was certainly not what I was expecting of an Alpha.  For starters, he didn’t look like an arrogant asshole.  Secondly, he was maybe an inch taller than me, and I was considered fairly short.  Underneath his wine, or perhaps blood-red dress shirt he was thin.  The only hint to his status was the intelligence lurking behind his dark eyes, which I merely glimpsed before lowering my own.

           “Welcome, Eleanor,” he came around to shake my hand.  I didn’t know if it was proper protocol or if he somehow knew that I was recently Changed and was sticking to familiar, human customs.  His grip was firm, not crushing like some men, and not too gentle as if he was afraid of breaking me.  It was a bit startling to actually be able to shake his hand properly instead of my hand simply being engulfed by his as was the case with most men.

          “I am Angus Hopper, Alpha of the Emerald City Pack.  You’ve made good time considering you left Revelstoke early this morning.”  Oh that was neatly done, putting me in my place by hinting that he knew more than I suspected, but not exactly how much.  “Have a seat,” he leaned his backside against the desk and gestured to one of the comfortable looking chairs.  It was an order, not an invitation.  And why was I reminded of being called to the principal’s office as written in a Penthouse letter?  Shoving aside x-rated thoughts involving school uniforms and corporal punishment, I tried to look as non-threatening as possible.

          “Been sittin’ in a car so long I’d rather stand if’s all the same.”  Eyes down, properly polite, and heavy on the Southern accent to hide any attitude.

          “I imagine,” he said with a small smile.  “So tell me how you came to be living in Portland, a city currently without a pack.”  Crap on a cracker, there’s no lying my way out of this one.  How does a city that size not have a werewolf pack?

          “I was Changed two-weeks ago,” I sighed and sat in the other chair in defeat, the one he had not indicated, forcing him to shift slightly to face me.  If he didn’t want small acts of defiance, then he shouldn’t have multiple options available.  “I was solo hikin’ in Glacier National Park an’ doin’ a little boulderin’.  One slip an’ I ended up with a broken spinal column at the bottom of a ravine.  By the time John found me, it was Change or die.  Chose what I thought was the lesser o’ two evils.  Stayed with him through the full moon an’ then headed home.”

          “Does John have a last name?” Angus asked with a frown.  My wolf worried that he was displeased with us.  I worried what that might mean for us if he was.

          “He said he’s old an’ the old ones don’t like to give their last names.”  I had to consciously square my shoulders, which had subconsciously rounded under his frown.  He nodded as if the answer wasn’t a surprise to him.

          “And he was willing to let you go so soon?” he asked with an arch of an eyebrow.  It really should be illegal for such a simple gesture to lend an irresistible quality when he was already handsome.  Or that could have just been my imagination because it was hard to read expressions from peripheral vision.

          “Not as such no,” I admitted reluctantly.  “I waited till he went out huntin’ then I booked it back down the mountain.”

          “Why did you feel the need to run?” he asked softly.  Even if I was brave enough to look him in the face I doubted that it would give any clue as to what that tone was in his voice.  I wasn’t necessarily a coward, but I was never comfortable discussing my personal life, let alone with strangers.  Focusing on the rug, or the bookcase, was easier than looking at him.

          “I got a job to get back to an’ I really wasn’t fond o’ the idea o’ bein’ stuck in the backwoods with a crazy old mountain man who’s also a werewolf.”  He was silent, obviously waiting for me to continue.  “I got the feelin’ that even if I was fully in control he wouldn’t let me leave.”

          Angus folded his arms in thought.  “Do you know where John lives?”

          “There’s a map in my glove box.  I could show ya the route to the cabin we stayed at.  There’re no roads, an’ it’s a bit of a hike in.”  Despite my best intentions to the contrary, I was cooperating.  I blamed my wolf, who was eager for his approval.  The Alpha obviously did not like what he was hearing, but it was rapidly becoming apparent that I was not his quarry so I was more than happy to keep him on that trail.  He caught the attention of either Shane or Matt behind me, and a moment later a door shut.  “But I did get the feelin’ that he moves around a lot.”

          “Eleanor,” he began.

          “Ellie, please.”  Angus did frown at the interruption, but hearing my horrible legal name, which the cop must have told him, was like having my fur rubbed the wrong way.

          “Ellie, you’re not in any trouble,” he said soothingly, as if I were a startled horse that might bolt.  Perhaps that analogy wasn’t too far off the mark considering I was practically vibrating with the need to run for the Jeep.  “The manner of your Change was highly unusual, bordering even on breaking our laws.”

          “The law says that no one may be Changed without their explicit permission.  I was coherent enough to give it.”  Ha, that caught him off guard.  That’s right, the newbie knows the rules of the game.  I might not remember anything else around the accident, but things like a weird, hairy mountain man offering to save your life by turning you into a monster tends to stick in a person’s memory.

          “That is true, yes.  However, the second law is that before someone is Changed they must undergo rigorous counseling and testing to determine whether they can become stable wolves,” the Alpha explained.  I forgot for a moment and stared into his dark eyes in shock that someone would make the choice deliberately rather than out of desperation.  I quickly looked away once the surprise faded.

          “A newly Changed wolf lacks control for their first few full moons and requires supervision for the first year,” he continued as if there was no breach of protocol.  “A pack is necessary to guide new wolves.”  He sounded like he had given this speech many times before.  Luckily, he didn’t succumb to dry monotones.

          “Which’s why I was goin’ to pack up an’ move somewhere rural enough I could run off a little steam,” I countered.  “Nurses are always needed everywhere.”

          “This is not just a ‘little steam,’ pup.”  I suppressed a flinch at his growl, as well as a snarl of my own at being called ‘pup.’  He took a deep breath, whether to calm himself or to continue his lecture I didn’t know because the sound of the door opening interrupted.  Shane handed Angus the familiar map, folded in my own fashion that in no way resembled its original creases.  Those things are impossible to refold properly, anyway.  After carefully moving a few items, he unfolded the map over his desk and handed me a pencil.

          “Here’s the trail head.”  I pointed to the circle already marking the spot on Highway 1.  “He follows the main trail through this valley.”  I pointed at the trail, which was already marked from my planning before the trip from hell.  The accent softened as I talked and forgot to maintain it.  “At about here he branches off at different angles each time so that his trail, not being well worn, is hard to pick up until you’re further out and know what you’re looking for.”  I marked an X where I’d gotten lost and decided to just keep following the river down until I found either a trail, humans, or the highway.  “Follow the river up and at the very edge of the park he’s got a cabin right about here.”  I drew a paw print on the spot.  “With the climb in elevation, it would’ve taken me about two days before… before.  Downhill with a light pack, I made it in around eight hours.”

          “Does that say ‘Dogtooth Range’?” Shane asked with a hint of a wry smile.

          “Could’ve been worse.  He could’ve gone for the really obvious with either Grey Fang or Fang Rock,” I smirked and pointed out the so named peaks on the other side of the park.  He snorted a chuckle.

          “You didn’t go to the authorities.”  It was a statement, not a question.

          “And end up in a secret government facility?” I scoffed.  “No thank you.”

          “Where did you stop to rest?” asked Angus.

          “I didn’t.”

          “Fatigue can be as dangerous as alcohol,” he frowned.

          “Have caffeine, will travel,” I quipped.

          “Even though your endurance has improved, you still need rest.  Exhaustion erodes control.”  And back into lecture mode.

          “Like I said, I’m a nurse.  Pulling doubles, even triples, isn’t unusual,” I countered.

          “You passed through the territories of four different packs.”  Someone had probably pulled my credit card history to follow my route in retrospect.  That was fast work, and most definitely illegal.  “How did you avoid detection?”

          “Didn’t stop more’n absolutely necessary,” I shrugged.  “And when I did, I tried to not get out of the car.  Drive-thru, avoided pumping my own gas where I could.”

          With a few taps Angus called someone on his cellphone.  He had to swipe his fingerprint to unlock it, first.  It even had one of those heavy-duty cases, which was probably a good investment for a werewolf.  “Hello, Angus.”  It was still weird how much my hearing had improved, especially back in civilization.

          “Hello, Bran.”  Aw, son of a biscuit.  I really did not want to show up on the Marrock’s radar.  Angus gave a concise report of everything that had happened to me since the accident, as far as he knew, including the pathetic getaway attempt.  I sat back down for the uncomfortable reprise.

          “Send me the map and I’ll have Charles look into it.”  I wasn’t certain how I felt about having just signed John’s death warrant.  The old werewolf wasn’t too specific when he talked about the Grand High Poobah of North America, but he was clear that any time the Marrock sent someone blood was spilled.  “How is she getting on with your pack?”

          “She’s a touch overwhelmed so I thought it best to wait before introducing them en masse.”  I glared at Angus from under lowered lashes, which is harder to do than you would think without looking coy or drunk.

          “If she chooses, escort her to Eugene.  Otherwise I will send someone to fetch her here until she decides where to settle,” Bran said.  My scowl deepened and I opened my mouth to tell them exactly what I thought of their plans.  Shane shook his head almost imperceptibly in warning, though there was more empathy than condemnation in the movement.

          “Please give my greetings to Anna and Charles.”

          “I will.”  The call abruptly ended from the other end.  Our King of the Werewolves was not one for drawn out goodbyes.  Angus took a couple of pictures of the map and sent them off with thumbs flying across the screen fast enough to make a teenager jealous.  Then he did the most supernatural act I’d seen out of a werewolf yet: he carefully folded the map along the original fold lines before handing it back to me.

          I doubled it over and shoved it in my back pocket as I stood.  “If you’ll excuse me, I would like to make it home in time for my shift tomorrow night.”  Although I kept my eyes on the bookshelf, I could feel his stare boring through me till my knees threatened to turn to Jell-O.  Locking one’s knees is a surefire way to eventually pass out, but is effective in the short term.

          “I’m afraid that you will have to change careers.  Even old wolves can have problems around so much blood and the vulnerable.”  The bastard actually managed to sound regretful.

          “I have neither the money nor the inclination to go back to school.  Not to mention I’m a little old for that.”  Must not growl at the Alpha, I mentally chanted for the benefit of my human half.

          “Loans can be arranged, and I’ve known werewolves who were alive when the Magna Carta was signed and earned their doctorate two or three times over.”  He sounded so cool and collected as if we weren’t discussing what was the beginning of what was theoretically to be my extremely long life.  “The more immediate issue is how much control you have.”

          “If I don’t get my act together by this time next year I’m put down.”  Don’t know why I spared him when it would have been so much more fun to watch him squirm.

          “Not only that, but you must be able to shift form and back at will.”  People go through that much pain willingly?  “New wolves need a pack to teach them control and to prevent unnecessary bloodshed when the wolf takes over until control is regained.  We cannot afford one mistake lest we all disappear into secret government facilities at best, or hunted down and exterminated at worst.”  Angus’ voice achieved a deeper timbre that coiled through the room like some living thing as he seemed to be losing patience.  “You will stay the night here.  In the morning Shane and Matt will escort you to Eugene to be presented to the pack there.”  Ooh, presented like a gift.  Who could resist such a command?  Oddly enough, my wolf did not like this plan either, but not because of the authoritarianism.

          “And if I don’t want to join a pack?”  It’s difficult to arch an eyebrow effectively while avoiding eye contact.  But not impossible.

          “That is not an option,” he shook his head.  “Even if you were not so new, our females are so rare they not allowed to become lone wolves.”  That’s what John had said, but I hoped that it was a lie to keep me from leaving.  The whole damn lot of them were so possessive it’s a wonder they even realized they were in the 21st century.  And I didn’t belong to anyone.  Not any more.

          “Fine.  But I’ve driven from here to Eugene many times so I think we can dispense with the escort.”  I waved vaguely over my shoulder to where Shane still lurked by the door.

          “That is non-negotiable.  As a dominant male and even more so as an Alpha I have a responsibility to see a submissive female delivered safely to another pack.”  Oh bloody hell.  John was right.  They could tell from one’s energy, no matter how much I tried to hide behind my sass.  “Not all dominants that you might meet along the way would be as tolerant of your attitude as I am.”

          “More arbitrary rules from on high,” I said flatly and folded my arms.  “Tell me, is His Furriness one of those at the signing of the Magna Carta?  No wonder ya’ll’s thinking’s so medieval.”

          Angus grabbed me by the back of the neck and snarled in my face.  Reflexively, I stiffened and closed my eyes to avoid looking at him.  His grip was tight, but not painful.  One quick twist and he could snap my neck.  I was pretty sure that was one injury from which there was no recovery.

          “The Marrock set down our laws for reasons you cannot yet comprehend.  You don’t have to understand our ways yet, but before God you will show respect,” he snarled.  There wasn’t anything I could say to that, so with an involuntary shudder I went limp in his grasp as my wolf temporarily took over.  Well, there were things I could say, but self-preservation and my wolf stayed my tongue.  After a minute, he released me, stepped away, and turned his back.  The strength I had just experienced first hand was evident in the taut lines of his wiry shoulders.

          My heart pounded in my throat while in the back of my head my wolf howled her anguish at having been chastised.  As a result, my self-preservation went right out the window.  “My respect is earned, not freely given.  If I’d realized that my choices consisted of which pack I was going to be the lowest bitch in, I’d have told John to bugger off.”  At least he’d have made sure that it was quick and clean.

          The Alpha breathed deeply and was quiet for exactly ten seconds.  Basic relaxation techniques to manage the beast within?  And they thought they could teach me something in that area?  When he was done, but not noticeably calmer, he turned around to lean against the desk again.  “We have a rigorous screening process to avoid situations like this.  Dominant lone wolves are the last people who should be teaching pack structure to a submissive female.”

          “Please stop using that term.”

          “‘Female’?”

          “Used as an adjective, it refers to a person.  As a noun, it denotes something less than human.  An animal.”  Like breeding pairs.  Good thing I never wanted to procreate anyway.

          “Get used to the terminology.”  If he were human, he’d have developed a new frown line from this conversation alone.  “In the constant struggles for dominance, females and submissives are the center of a pack since they do not rise in rank, except for when their mate does in the case of females.”  If I didn’t like ‘female,’ I despised ‘mate,’ which seemed a ridiculous term for a species that couldn’t bear children.  “With submissives, dominants don’t have to constantly watch their back.  And the pack will unite to protect these weaker members.”  Oh if he thought I was weak, he had another thing coming.  “Female submissives are so valued that any pack would welcome you.”  ‘Submissive’ as a noun was definitely not an improvement.  “But none would tolerate your disrespect for long.”

          “That’s exactly why I should just be on my merry way,” I said brightly.  “I’m really more trouble than I’m worth.”

          “Nice try,” he smirked.  “Dinner is in thirty minutes.  You’ll want to freshen up.”  True to my nature I wanted to deny hunger despite not having eaten since well before the border crossing.  I’d worn the same clothes for the past twenty-four hours straight, which included a frantic run down a mountain through unfamiliar woods, and my hands still smelled like gasoline.

          I was still noticing just how many interesting smells I was covered in when a tall, perky blonde swept through the door.  She must have practically been listening down the hallway, not that, that was necessary.  Everyone in the house had probably heard me mouthing off.  I’d forgotten about that.  Great first impression.

          “Please show Ellie to the guest suite.”  Mickayla gave a sloppy salute, earning a scowl from her fearless leader, then cocked her head in silent invitation to follow her.

          “You’re up on the second floor,” she said as she led me upstairs.  “Hopefully you’re not afraid of heights after your accident,” she grinned.

          “Are you kidding?  I’ve always wanted to try free climbing, but was too scared.  Now I totally want to,” I said.

          “Don’t mention that to any of the guys or they’ll have kittens.”  Her golden laugh bounced through the stairway.

          “Now I’m picturing a bunch of them at the base of a cliff with a giant trampoline like in cartoons when there’s a fire,” I chuckled and she joined me.

          “This is you,” she waved a welcoming arm through an open doorway.  “Matt already brought your backpack and duffel up.”  My bags were indeed sitting on a low, wide dresser against the nearest wall.  The queen bed with its elegant down comforter faced the door.  A door on the right led to a bathroom, although I had no idea how I was going to be able to do my business in a house full of people who could hear through walls.

          “Thanks.”

          “No worries.  You need anything you just give a shout.  Wait, you’re new.  No actual shouting necessary, just a sort of ‘hey’ so we know you’re not talking to yourself,” she winked.

          “Um, Mickayla?”  She turned back to me.  “What’s it like being in a pack?”

          She stepped into the room with a small smile and shut the door behind her, for all the good that would do.  “I don’t know this John, but sometimes wolves go lone because they can’t handle being in a pack.”

          “Yeah, he did seem more than a little biased.”  I dug out the Ziploc of toiletries and the bundle that was the last clean outfit I’d originally saved for the last day of the drive home, but didn’t dare stop long enough along the way to change.

          “Think of a healthy pack more as one big family.”  Mickayla flopped onto the bed with one leg tucked up under her, yet kept her voice low enough to not carry.  “Complete with the usual amount of dysfunction and bickering.  They’re really like a bunch of brothers, uncles, and cousins who are all trying to protect the little sister.”

          As she talked, I leaned against the bathroom doorway and started to brush my teeth.  They had fuzzy sweaters from the energy drinks I’d downed to stay awake.  “But then again, I’m married,” she continued.  “If you’re single then the unmated ones will all come sniffing around.  It’s not that bad!” she laughed at my expression of dawning horror.  “Even if any of them would push their luck and call down the wrath of their Alpha, the closest dom would thrash them, or if they couldn’t, tag someone in who could.  Mind you, I’m only talking about the Emerald City Pack.  I was Changed two years ago because my mate, Matt, was already a wolf.  Before that there were no other girls for I don’t know how long.”

          “They weren’t kidding when they said that women are rare,” I said around the toothbrush and foam that probably made me look rabid.  She laughed again, although it was hard to tell whether it was at my surprise or the toothpaste.

          “We’re more functional than not here.  But there are some stories out there of Alphas who went bad.  I don’t know much about the Eugene pack, but I haven’t heard any horror stories either,” she shrugged.  “You know, it’s funny, women are supposed to be huge gossips, but most werewolves are men and we all gossip worse than any housewife.”  I laughed and promptly choked, so I shut the bathroom door and started the shower as I finished brushing.

          “You’re going to need to get over that modesty.”  Mickayla’s voice was easily heard through the door and over the running water.

          “Oh?” I asked archly.  She couldn’t see the glare through the door as I undressed.

          “It’s incredibly painful to shift while wearing clothes.  So pack runs, full moons…”

          “I’ve just been told I have to switch careers, move to a new city, am no longer allowed to leave town without a babysitter, and when it comes to my place in a pack my only option is which one do I want to be at the bottom of the pecking order in.  Oh, and all the single guys will be eyeing me like a juicy steak.  Now you’re telling me I have to become an exhibitionist?  No thank you, I’m going to maintain whatever little control over my life I have left.”  It took all my willpower to not punch something.  If I had to move and look for work there was no way I could afford to replace anything in this bathroom, too.

          “If the pack’s good, you’ll be on a pedestal, more or less, not the low man on the totem pole.”

          “Great, I always wanted to be Princess Peach stuck in the castle,” I muttered sarcastically.  “I’ll see you downstairs.”

          “Ellie, I promise that it’s not as bad as it seems,” she said before leaving.

          I stood lost in thought in my office for some time after she left, bathed in the complex layers of smells that confirmed her story.  Mountain air, evergreens, sweat both old and nervous, gasoline, fast food, and no small amount of stress.  Amidst the melange was a thread of fear.  If it was any stronger, I would have called Alan, the pack’s only submissive, to come and help calm her before everyone got riled up trying to fix whatever upset her.  But under the circumstances, her fear was to be expected.  And he was working tonight.

          Tension had been running high in the pack ever since we went public.  Another submissive to ease the strain would be a boon, and a second medic would not go amiss.  Her presence would stir up a rash of dominance fights among the unmated males until she starting seeing someone.  That is, if she could be housebroken.  Time would show whether her defiance was born of ignorance or emotional pressure.  Her knowledge of our primary laws would suggest the latter, though I preferred to avoid premature conclusions.

          A younger wolf, or one who wasn’t as high in the hierarchy, might find such calculations cold, especially in regards to a submissive female whose Change had been particularly traumatic.  But you don’t get to be an old Alpha without assessing the strengths and weaknesses of your pack members and determining how they can best be used for the betterment of the whole.

          As much as I was loath to let her leave, even if the Marrock hadn’t mandated, protocol and courtesy demanded that the Eugene pack have right of first refusal.  Appropriate that Eugene was also referred to as the Emerald City, but we had claimed the name before the Portland pack had relocated there.  Ordinarily I would have my second, Tom, call to arrange things with the other pack, but the unique situation and the fact that he was on duty called for a personal touch, even if my third, Shane, wasn’t preparing for the trip.  Besides, their Alpha, Colin, would be pissed if I dropped this grenade, no matter how attractive or useful she was, in his lap without warning.  No, not a bomb.  Panicked ferret, maybe.  Still not pleasant, but not as disastrous.  And they could be cute, when they weren’t baring their teeth.

          Stifling a sigh, I found Colin’s cell number in my phone and called him up.

Notes: This was written two years ago and was my first fan fiction and my first attempt at writing over 10 years.

Matt and Shane live in Redmond, thus why they were able to carpool so quickly. It was sheer luck that they spotted the lime green, mud-splattered Jeep as they headed down the 405 after Tom asked them to try and track her while he covered I-5 South. Of course, Ellie didn't know that, nor does she think it's lucky at all.

Ellie was hiking along the easterly side of Glacier National Park of Canada in BC, not too far from Revelstoke, which has some great hot springs, by the way.

[gii-heylittleangel]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! The best holiday of the whole year, in my very humble opinion.

I’m so happy I managed to finish this fic to post it today because I really wanted to post it. This is just Charlie and Dean being their usual dork selves and going to a Halloween party in matching costumes. I hope y’all enjoy it and that you have a nice holiday!

Read it on AO3 or keep reading it here.

Dean was pacing up and down in his apartment, waiting for Charlie to show up. He checked and rechecked his costume a thousand times, fixing a thing or another every time he passed by the mirror—even when there wasn’t anything to fix it. Time didn’t pass fast enough and Dean was just about to finish the whole candy bowl—supposedly for the trick-n’-treating kids and that would probably make him sick later that night, but he was too anxious to care.

He was excited for the party and excited for his and Charlie’s costume: Dean so wanted to have everyone turning around to check their costume because it’ll be the coolest. Having two other friends go with them would be a lot better but no one wanted to go; everyone had other plans or said they didn’t like Halloween—e.g. Sam—so they ended up saying screw it and going just the two of them.

When the doorbell finally rang, Dean basically ran to it, throwing it open to see Charlie dressed just like him: a beige jumpsuit, a black tag with their name written in red, a very detailed backpack, with wires and lights, a belt and black gloves, just like the Ghostbusters. The only difference between their costumes was the name: Dean’s said “Winchester” while Charlie’s read “Bradbury”.

When she walked into the apartment, Charlie’s excitement was easily seen in her smile and it matched Dean’s exactly. She went straight to the candy bowl, without even saying hello, and searched for something in it.

“Oh, come on, man, you ate most of the Twixes already. You know they’re my favourites.”

Dean sighed while he rolled his eyes. “There’s more in the cupboard,” he pointed to the kitchen. “You know where to find it.”

Charlie smiled broadly before making her way to where Dean pointed. “That’s why you’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine ‘cause you always save M&M’s for me.”

“Damn right I do.” Charlie walked back with a couple of Twixes and two packets of M&M’s, which she threw to Dean.

“So, just the two of us in the end, huh?”

“Yeah. Jo, Kevin, Meg, and Lisa insisted on not coming and the rest didn’t even answer me. Something on your end?”

“Nope,” Dean popped a few chocolates in his mouth. “Benny, Sam, Cas, Eileen, no one wanted to go, all saying they had better things to do. Not even Ash wanted. He said costume parties are lame and that we’re lame for going to one.”

“Now that’s just mean,” Charlie took a bite of her chocolate, sprawling herself on Dean’s couch. “They’ll all gonna be so jealous when we tell them how amazing it was, regretting their decision of not going.”

“They are too lame for that. They won’t even realize how cool it was.”

Dean took over the other couch, eating his own candy while he and Charlie chatted before it was time for them to leave—he wished he could just get there as soon as possible, but he knew there wasn’t going to be anyone there yet and so they wouldn’t have much to do. 

With Charlie there, though, the clock moved faster as they talked, and soon was time for them to finally leave. The party was close and they decided walking was better than taking their cars; Charlie would probably spend the night in Dean’s apartment anyway and neither of them wanted to risk driving back drunk if they ended up drinking.

Seeing all the kids knocking on the houses as they trick-n’-treated also made their walk be more fun; it allowed them to comment about all the costumes they saw, rating them on what they thought were the best concepts to judge: coolness, if it was based on a movie/book/show, if it was a costume they would wear themselves, and if it was cooler than their own—no other costume won over theirs.

The house the party would be at could be seen from the other end of the street; there were tons of decoration on the outside, carved up pumpkins—most of which the own guests carved up earlier that week—spider webs, made-up tombstones, fake skeletons scattered around the golden grass, and a few fairy lights put on the trees. It looked beautiful and very cadaverous, perfect for what Dean was sure was going to be an amazing party.

There were already half a dozen or so people inside, but more were arriving every minute. Dean and Charlie paid attention to every little detail, from the others’ costumes to the decoration inside the house—because just the outside wouldn’t be enough. Even the food and the drinks represented Halloween; there were some foods in cauldrons, steam rising up from the liquid inside; the cupcakes were decorated with zombies, vampires, ghosts, werewolves, and any other monster Dean could think of; he even saw ice cubes with spiders, roaches and tiny skulls inside them. 

He had to give it to the owners of the party: they knew how to throw a party.

As they walked deeper into the house, Dean was able to see more of the decoration: there were monsters scattered around the rooms, looking so real that Dean was sure one was going to jump on him before the end of the night. There were spider webs inside the house too and the lights were just enough for him to be able to see his surroundings. Even the bathroom was decorated: some mirrors had red writing on them, while others had an almost translucent image, making it seem as if a spirit was right behind you.

Once they finally finished looking the whole house and checking some of the costumes—Charlie insisted on both, saying she wanted to see if someone would have a cooler costume than theirs—they went after food and people, getting to know a few amazing people and finding out the food tasted amazing.

The two of them soon got glued to a group of five people who shared a lot of their interests—they were all dressed as one of the main characters from Scooby-Doo, so they won Dean’s heart easily. They played all the games available, going against each other or against another group—and winning, of course. 

When it was around 11p.m., the hosts announced a horror movie marathon but with a twist: actors and actresses came from the shadows to scare you when there was a jump scare in the movie, sometimes simply appearing right behind you, their voices on your ear. Dean hated to admit it, but he jumped every time someone scared him and sometimes when someone else got scared and screamed. Still, it was one of the best horror movie marathons Dean ever had and they all finished the last Friday 13th movie laughing.

Some of the actors and actresses stayed for the rest of the party—which didn’t last long, considering the fact that it was almost five in the morning and everyone was tired—and Dean got entertained talking to one of the actors who pretended to be Freddy Krueger, one of Dean’s favourite horror villains. They got along pretty well and they had just exchanged numbers when Charlie came after him, her eyes practically closed from sleep, and begged Dean for them to go—and Dean, being an amazing friend and tired as hell too, complied.

He waved goodbye to the actor—Nicolas Broughton—before crossing the door, one arm around Charlie’s shoulders while she kept one of hers around Dean’s waist. They supported the other as they walked to Dean’s apartment, talking about the party, what they liked the most, but mostly about the people they talked to; Charlie said she had an amazing time with the girl dressed as Velma and that they agreed to meet sometime the next week for a coffee; Dean told her about Nicolas and that they had a lot of in common, especially about horror movies and books and that Dean hoped to keep in touch with him.

When they got to the apartment, they were both exhausted and wanting nothing more than to sleep. Dean and Charlie took each a side of Dean’s mattress and dragged it to the living room, settling it in front of the TV. All of Dean’s pillows and three blankets for them—because Charlie had a tendency of stealing Dean’s blanket during the night. The only two other things they did were change their costumes for their PJs and brush their teeth before falling on the mattress.

Still, for Dean, it was the best Halloween party he had ever had.

[thereal-linh-cinder]

Cinder’s Notes on Harry Potter & the Chamber of Secrets

We’re back with CoS!

Again, massive spoilers for the entire HP series (obviously)

Woo the hell plans where theyre going to stand when dinner guests arrive? you seem so unbelievably inhuman, which, i suppose the Dursleys are, but still...

DUDLEY’S COMPLIMENT FOR MRS. MASON

Because Harry is an unreliable narrator, is it possible that the Dursleys treat him slightly better than is described? Unlikely, but something to consider

Harry is so humble?

He’s also hilarious “[Voldemort] hasnt got a brother, has he?”

bars on the window are a bit extreme

the twins ooze chaotic energy

are the owls that wizards use magical? they always seem to understand humans VERY well...or is it just magic that gives magic folk a better connection w animals? Or is that just how owls are? Or do I just not understand how carrier birds work? 

rather convinient that only the bottom stair creaks and not like. the 13th from the top or something

“Draco made Dudley sound sweet” i mean. childish bullying at school  vs physical abuse for years but ok go off jkr

the twins are 14 and driving a car. in Britain. where you have to be 18. chaos

Mrs. Weasley reminds me way too much of my own mother

Percy wears sweater vests confirmed (are we surprised)

Please take a moment to imagine Percy’s reaction to Hermione becoming Minister

Lockhart + Rita Skeeter (idk what this means but its in my notes)

“got the impression that Snape could read minds” 👀

Lockhart is just gonna go through the whole rainbow huh

Lockhart really compared Harry almost DYING to him winning that stupid smile award. Bruh.

Lockhart has 7 books

I feel bad for Nick :(

There’s so much about the Vanishing Cabinets in this book!

that moment with the salamander and the firework is a gem

Do Ron and Hermione at least hear hissing in the walls?

so Lockhart is basically running the Hogwarts theatre department huh

why was Ron’s first thought toenails

Scarhead? Thats the BEST insult you can come up with, Malfoy? 

Yeah, let the 12y/o deal with the rogue bludger on his own, y’hear? (can you tell I’m a lot older now)

Honestly, Madame Pomfrey? Kinda a savage

If Voldemort was 70 when he died in ‘98, and he went to school with Lucius, how old is Lucius? 

Technically, if all purebloods are related, Harry IS a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Not the heir obvs, but you know

honestly when you think about it, Fawkes’s death is hilarious. Like Harry’s just chillin and sees a cool bird and then it spontaneously combusts 

Did Crabbe and Goyle ever get their shoes back? 

Ron has REALLY good intuition

Why do they still have Riddle’s trophy on display? Like yeah not many people know that he’s Voldemort but that just feels like the equivalent of like...keeping up a trophy for the kid that turned out to be a sch**l sh**ter

Ok but the younger Weasleys have this knack for bullying Voldy. Twins pelted him with snowballs, Ginny flushed his diary down a toilet, Ron barfed slugs all over his special award....

well Harry if its a DIARY where you conventionally write personal stuff about your day or your crush, why are we surprised that it doesnt even have stuff like “dentist” and “aunt mary’s birthday” or “half past 3″ written in it

RON’S INTUITION BRUH “[the diary] coud be dangerous” “maybe [Tom Riddle] murdered Myrtle] yall know that theory abt him being a seer? yeah

I adore these characters so much bc theyre so real?? Lke we truly watch them grow up. Something about the way 11y/o Ginny covers her face and runs away vs how she acts in the later books just. I adore it. 

So this is where I broke my own heart and froze for a solid 15 minutes. I was beginning to write “I hope the twins sang ‘His Eyes Are As Green As A Fresh Pickled Toad’ at their wedding” before I realized that only one twin got to attend Harry & Ginny’s wedding. I trailed off at the S in twins and you can see how shaky my hand got in the writing (i wrote all of this out in a journal)

Riddle’s personality is so well preserved. (and then I remembered that he made his first horcrux that year and THATS why bc this is 16/17 y/o voldy’s soul)

In Riddle’s memory, he stops by the potions room after speaking to Dumbledore on the staircase. Slughorn is teaching that year. Harry says he is stuck outside that room for “what felt like an hour.” Is this where Tom asks about horcruxes? Technically at this point, Myrtle has already been murdered and its been a while but I’m p sure he asks about horcruxes after class one day. But idk. It really seems plausible, and It’s possible that he altered the memory to show Harry...

this is my least favorite book so i just wrote “this is the most boring book. I’m skimming.”

ah forcing 12 y/o to choose a career path

Quidditch mathces are EARLY (im used to sports matches in the evenings but i guess soccer matches are early and such so it makes sense) (my american is showing)

Is sitting at any table allowed? I never understood that and it used to bug me in the movies. Is it only required to sit at your House table during important feasts? Is that how a lot of inter-house relationships come to be? 

Fudge’s wardrobe was ROBBED in the movie. They really made him look like an established businessman when when we first meet the man, he’s wearing a pinstriped suit, scarlet tie, POINTED PURPLE SHOES and honestly woud it have been so hard to at least give him the lime green bowler hat? Such a staple of his personality

i feel like we tend to forget that hagrid has been to Azkaban

Ron saw Draco being racist and had to be physically held back by his friends. Mans was ready to THROW HANDS. 10/10 absolute icon

The prejudice against werewolves is very prominent.They clearly dont know a lot about them/arent taught (constantly expecting to find them roaming the forbidden forest EVERY NIGHT)

literally WHAT would they do without Hermione

still shocked that Hermione Jean Granger would willingly rip a page out of a book, especially a library book. But maybe thats just the fact that I’m the daughter of a librarian.

is the basilisk page from Fantastic Beasts? They really called it “a page from an old book” its literally in ur first year curriculum but ok boys

Why did Ron toss Lockhart’s wand out the window? He couldve used it instead of his spellotaped one. Granted, it wouldnt have been very good later on if he had, but. You know?

if this Tom is just an imprint of Voldy’s soul at 16/17, how does he even know who Harry is

he already has voldy’s laugh

OH Ginny told him about Harry that makes sense

Voldemort is SO dramatic. Imagine your buddy Tom one day says “hello dearest closest friends, I’ve decided I hate my name so I tried to make an acronym. Please only refer to me as Voldemort from now on. Also I could spell Lord with my name, so I am claiming my new status as a Lord.”

Also he’s holding Harry’s wand. Why is he sending this ginormous, super sow snake after this tiny scrawny 12y/o? Just kill him yourself. Even when Harry gets poisoned Tom’s like “take ur time bro imma watch u die i have nothing better to do” and only when neither of those first tow extra af options DO NOT WORK does he think “oh well guess i gotta use this WAND now ugh” like was he just not corporeal enough to actually use the wand yet or???? Buddy. If you really wanted Harry dead I feel like you could do better.

the fang SPLINTERED in Harry’s arm????????????????? uhm

Harry gets covered in ink a lot in the series

Dumbledore is such a simp for Voldemort honestly

I forget that Harry & Ron get trophies for special services too bro

did Arthur create the Muggle Protection Act???

...why DOES Lucius have Voldy’s old school things? 

Harry and Ron got a total of 400 points for this. But only 10 FOR TAKING OUT A TROLL AT AGE 11 

Lucius is LITERALLY on the PTA hes a school governor 

[ssaori]

I meant to post this a long time ago, but I never got around to do it. Now, it’s @tiedtogetherwithadagger Kat’s birthday, whose prompt inspired Not Playing by the Rules. So this is the perfect opportunity to post this awfully premature episode from the sequel I might never finish at this point. :D Enjoy!

________

"So, what you do is to try to roll twenty or above, and bam! Suck it, losers!” Stiles explains as they turn into the driveway. He knows he should be more worried about the whole meeting with the parents thing. Technically, that’s not why he’s going, Isaac invited him for his birthday party the Hales are throwing him and Stiles just happens to be Derek’s boyfriend. It’s really not a big deal. Stiles met a couple of parents in his career. He can handle this. Totally.

“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?” Derek asks, ignoring Stiles’ gushing about beating a powerful warlock last week.

“No,” Stiles drawls out, holding up a finger, “but are you sure this shirt looks okay?”

“No, it’s horrible.” The ‘wolf rolls his eyes in a familiar fashion. Stiles sighs.

“I knew I could trust you to give your honest opinion. Best shirt ever.” It’s a baby werewolf blowing out candles. It’s adorable. Derek is just saying that because he has an image to uphold. Stiles gets that. Grumpy werewolves don’t melt at the sight of a baby werewolf.

“Please take it off, I brought you a button down for a reason.” Derek glances in the rearview mirror to the pressed, white button down in the back seat.

“Isaac will totally get it, you’ll see.” Stiles grins as they slowly come to a stop in front of the house. Stiles whistles. It’s three story, off-white and could be a mansion if Derek wouldn’t bite Stiles’ head off for calling it that. “How many of you will be there again?”

“The whole pack – my family, Scott, Isaac, some other betas.”

“I have no idea what that means but it sounds like a party. Let’s go!” Stiles is giddy with nervous energy as he reaches for the door handle, ready to step out of the sleek car, but Derek stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Wait. Before we go inside…” Derek takes a deep breath. “You know how you think I’m faking the whole ‘wolf thing?”

“Oh! Wait, your parents don’t know? I was under the impression they’re playing too.” He frowns. “Weird. But I get that, totally.” He grins. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“No, it’s… It’s the opposite, actually.”

“So they know!” Stiles bounces in his seat. “Cool! Awesome, no secrets, I dig it. Can we go now? I’m about to pee my pants.” Derek lets his head drop back on the headrest, closing his eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose.

“You have no shame, do you?”

“Absolutely none.” Stiles shakes his head. He takes a calming breath and puts his hand on Derek’s thigh. The other man tenses under his touch. “Look, you’re right, I’m nervous.” He sighs. “I’m meeting your parents for the first time, we’ve been together for only a few months, and we haven’t seen each other much since I went back to uni. It’s a lot, okay? Meeting you again in person is a lot in itself, now I have to get to know a bunch of new people and Isaac is having his birthday party for the first time in forever, so he’s probably freaking out, so I have to be there for him, and—”

“You’re overwhelmed.” Derek cuts him off impatiently.

“Yes, to sum it up, I am. I know you like to be all impatient and grumpy and whatever with me, just… could you tone it down a little bit today? This is a big deal. I need you to be my Wolf-man and not Grumpy McQueen.” Derek rolls his eyes taking a deep breath, then nods.

“Okay. Fine.”

“Two words.” Stiles purses his lips. “That’s awesome.” Derek sends him a flat look, which makes Stiles grin. “Are we ready, Wolf-man?”

“Sure.” Derek pushes open his door, but before he can leave, Stiles pulls him back.

“Hold up, I forgot one more thing.” Derek turns to him with his eyebrows raised. Stiles leans over the control and kisses him on the lips. Before he can pull back, Derek takes hold of the back of his head, pulling him deeper in, sneaking a little tongue into it as well. They part with equally satisfied sighs.

“Please lose the shirt?” Derek whispers in the space between their mouths.

“Keep on dreaming, Wolf-man.” Stiles whispers back, then gets out of the car with a wide grin on his face. Isaac is waiting for them at the front door with his own grin.

“Finally! I was about to drag you inside myself.” He calls, then him and Stiles meet on the bottom of the stairs, hugging each other tightly. “The whole house heard your freak out.” He whispers in Stiles’ ear.

“That’s impossible.” Stiles whispers back like he’s sharing a very important secret with a child. Isaac just shrugs, pulling away.

“Are we ready?” He asks, looking over at Derek. Stiles frowns at his boyfriend, reaching over and tugging his necklace that Stiles gave him, out of the shirt’s neck. He pats the Pietersite claw satisfied. Derek’s jaw clenches as he looks at him darkly. Stiles grins.

“Everybody gotta know who gave that to you.”

“Have you ever heard the phrase, don’t poke the sleeping bear?” Isaac wonders out loud. Stiles shrugs with his whole body. Isaac laughs, then runs up the stairs. “Come on, they’re all out back!” Stiles doesn’t get the opportunity to see the house, because Isaac is rushing them through it to get back to the party. As they step through the back door, Stiles freezes. He knew a lot of people were going to be here, but… that’s a lot of people. Like seriously.

Scott is chatting with the girl Derek first came in with, so that is where Stiles is going to go to, but just as he turns in their direction, Derek hooks a finger in the back of his shirt, pulling him back.

“Mom first.”

“Right.” Stiles adjusts the collar of his shirt, following Derek to a group of older people. They’re all beautiful. Seriously, Twilight lied. Vampires? Pfft, try werewolves. “Hi!” He grins at them when the woman in the center of the group stops chatting to look at him. She looks a bit like Derek, Stiles supposes, with her square jaw and strong nose. She smiles at Stiles, reaching out a hand.

“Hello, dear. You must be Stiles, Derek’s new friend, we’ve heard a lot about you.” Friend? He looks over at Derek, who’s rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed. Friend?

“Yes, hi, Derek, you wanna do this, or…?” Stiles looks between the woman and Derek.

“Yeah. Mom, this is Stiles, my boyfriend, Stiles, my mom.” The woman visibly pauses at that, watching Derek. From the corner where Stiles saw Scott earlier, comes an ear-piercing shriek.

“Your what?!” As Stiles turns, startled, he sees the girl Scott had been talking to – Derek’s sister, if Stiles remembers correctly? – looking at them wide-eyed. Stiles assumes Scott, although with strange accuracy, was just telling her about Stiles as well, that’s why she had such a perfect timing at crying out.

As Stiles turns, there’s a strange, animal-like growl coming from behind him, then Derek steps in front of him. Stiles is going crazy for sure, but are Derek’s shoulder’s wider than usual?

“Enough!” Derek’s mom calls out. As Stiles turns to look at her, he immediately takes a step back, because. Her eyes. They’re… glowing red? Stiles frowns as he bumps into Derek, who reaches out to steady him. As Stiles looks down at the hand holding his elbow, he sees… claws? At the end of Derek’s fingers?

“Are you okay, Stiles?” Derek’s mom is quick to step forward with a concerned expression. As Stiles looks down, Derek’s fingers are normal, like there were never claws there. What the hell?

“Uh, I think… There might be something in the punch.”

“You didn’t have punch yet, Stiles.” Scott says. Stiles looks up at him, he’s standing to the side, looking at Stiles like always, completely normal. Oh, thank God, Stiles wouldn’t be able to handle if his best friend grew pointy ears or something. Well, he could. Actually, that would be… that would be awesome.

“I definitely saw claws at one point.” Stiles says faintly. Scott frowns at him, then looks down at his own hands.

“Claws?” Derek’s mom asks with a tight smile.

“And red eyes.” Stiles stares at her eyes.

“It must’ve been the sun.” She says.

“Or not?” Stiles glances heavenward, where the sky is heavily clouded.

“I’m sure it was just... your senses playing with you.” She nods, but Stiles doesn’t miss the look she sends towards her son. As Stiles looks back at Derek, he’s glaring back at his mother.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Stiles asks, utterly confused.

“Nothing, it must be–”

“I meant to tell you before we came in.” Derek states defiantly, still staring his own mother down. Stiles is slightly intimidated by that look, even though it’s not directed at him.

“Okay?”

“Derek, no. Not now.” His mother sounds stern and Stiles watches them like a tennis match.

“It’s okay, mom. He basically knows already, this would be just... Some extra knowledge.”

“Don’t I get a say in it?” Scott asks from the side, taking a step forward.

“Wait, don’t I?” Stiles asks as well, looking between the three of them now.

“You may not want to push it.” A female voice whispers in his ear. Stiles shrieks - very manly shriek, mind you - and steps away from Derek’s sister.

“I’m the alpha, Derek.” His mom says. “I get to decide who we tell it.”

“We’re werewolves.” Derek says, raising his chin rebelliously. Stiles raises his eyebrows.

“Yes, Wolf-man, we’ve been over this a few times I think.”

“No, dude.” Scott sighs, turning to Stiles with a sheepish expression. “It’s like, for real.”

“Yeah, for real.” Stiles nods. “You’re werewolves, I’m a level fifty warlock--”

“For fuck’s sake.” Isaac steps between the lot of them, his face changing. Stiles watches with wide eyes and open mouth as his eyebrow bones thicken, as do his cheekbones, hair spurs from his sideburns and jawline, fangs grow over his teeth and claws emerge from his fingertips.

Everybody seems to hold their breath, Stiles included. He watches Isaac’s changed face for a long time, just taking it in. Nobody comes closer and nobody’s touching Stiles. They all just... stare.

Finally, after what feels like hours, Stiles takes a deep breath, and whispers:

“Fucking awesome, man, I totally need that special effects for the shop next summer.”

“For crying out loud.” Derek grunts, stepping in front of Stiles. He takes hold of his hand, brings it to his face, and so Stiles can feel the bones changing, the hairs growing out. It’s so strange, so alien and fascinating at the same time... All Stiles can do is stare. Then, without any warning, he promptly throws up on his boyfriend.

[blueplanettrash]

Alternate Realities

This is a story for @abigailthemystic-vld who was the first to complete the puzzle based on my stories. They requested a story about the team going into some of the alternate realities in my stories! I hope you enjoy! 💙

Also, I’m just realizing that apparently line breaks aren’t available to use anymore so I’m gonna be using this little moon for line breaks. I hope most people can see it...

☽

Lance threw himself to the ground, rolling behind a log the steps thundered closer. He glanced up just as a giant wolf leapt over the log.

God, why couldn’t they have just left those Altean artifacts alone? It wasn’t his fault that they looked so cool. At least they can’t blame it all on him, Pidge and Hunk were the ones that handled them first, he was just you know…giving into peer pressure.

The ground shook as the beast landed in front of him, knocking him from his thoughts. Letting out a harsh breath as it stood tall. It stuck it’s nose in the area, sniffing loudly as it slowly turned toward him. Lance held his breath in fear as it came to face him. He froze, barely taking a breath as it stalked closer to him.

He turned away, unable to watch as the beast attacked him.

Instead, it grabbed the hood of his jacket and lifted him off the ground. He shrieked as it bolted, his feet just barely dragging the dirt beneath them. He couldn’t think through his terror, he didn’t know if it was bringing him back to his den or just trying to make his final minutes a living hell. He didn’t even realize that he was screaming until he ran out of air and started to hyperventilate. He couldn’t help but be grateful when he passed out and everything went dark.

☽

Meanwhile, his teammates were having slightly better luck. Instead of being transported outside in a weird forest they didn’t know, they fell right into their counterpart’s laps.

They leapt apart from each other in a panic, frantically yelling and pointing their weapons and each other before they got a good look at who they were facing.

“What did you do?” The other Shiro asked, somehow knowing that they did something they shouldn’t have done. Their Keith and Shiro looked back at Hunk and Pidge and they rightfully looked ashamed.

“Uh, we might have touched some stuff in the Castle when we probably shouldn’t have?” Pidge said sheepishly while Hunk nodded along.

“What do you mean? What did you touch?” Allura asked.

“You sent us to get training modules and there were these things. They kind of looked like gems, kind of like your tiara. We’re sorry, we didn’t mean to!” Hunk explained tearfully.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied after a moment. “Coran?”

“I’m afraid I can’t shed any light on the subject either,”

“Well whatever happened, it’s obvious that we’re in some sort of an alternate reality,” Shiro stated.

“It could be time travel,” Pidge piped up brightly.

“But we’d remember something like that happening,” the other Pidge pointed out. “Whether we go into the past or present, at least one version of us would remember it happening,”

“But if it’s an alternate reality, why doesn’t it look like anything is different?” Keith asked. He looked around for a second before letting out a sigh. “Except for the fact that Lance isn’t here,”

“Coran, you got eyes on him?” The other Shiro asked, turning towards the man.

“Give me a moment,” he said, turning around to type on the system. “Ahh yes, it appears that he just boarded the Castle again. Perhaps he can help us with our search for the other one,”

They didn’t have time to question why Lance was spending time away from the team before the doors to the bridge hissed open and a massive wolf trotted in, the unconscious form of their team in his jaws. He carefully laid the boy down and over to Shiro who draped a sheet over it. Within a few seconds, it looked to be changing. The team watched transfixed as the creature writhed under the blanket.

“What the hell is going on?”

Lance’s head popped out from under the blanket and he wrapped the material around his shoulders; his stare was focused on the team that came from the portal.

“And who are you?” He continued, stepping closer to them.

“Wha?” Pidge drawled out, staring at him in disbelief. Lance cocked his head, partly in worry but mostly confusion.

“What? Is there something on my face?” He asked, pausing in his steps to wipe at his cheeks. He waited for a reply but nothing was forthcoming. He turned instead to his own team. “Shiro?”

“Nope. I don’t know what up with them either,” he replied. He looked down at the unconscious Lance on the ground and grinning fondly. “Maybe we should take care of this first though,” he commented, kneeling down to pick him up. The rest of the team followed after him dutifully while the other was still frozen trying to understand what they’d just seen.

“Um… are you coming?” Hunk called from the door.

“Uh, yeah. Let’s go team,” Shiro said, shaking his head.

☽

They laid him on the bed and Coran got to work looking over his vitals. Thankfully, everything looked pretty normal and he concluded that it was the shock from warping that caused him to pass out. For now, they’d have to wait for him to regain consciousness.

They didn’t have to wait long before Lance gasped and shot up from the table. He folded over his knees and panted. He belatedly realized that someone was rubbing his back and telling him to breathe.

“Oh, Coran. W-what happened?” He asked, grasping his arm.

“We believe you fainted my boy. Whatever brought you here must have given you quite a fright,” he explained cheerfully, not pausing in his ministrations.

“Brought me here?” He trailed off in confusion before it all rushed back to him and he jolted. “No! What scared me was the giant fucking wolf that snatched me!” He cried out. “How did I even get here? I thought that thing was gonna tear me open!”

“Wait… you’re not…” he looked over, seeing Pidge. He must his head or something because was actually seeing two Pidges.

“How bad did I hit my head? Cuz, I’m seeing double,” he asked, looking back at Coran.

“You didn’t hit your head, there are two Pidges right now!” Coran happily explained. “Now back to the matter at hand, you don’t know that wolf?”

“What? No, I don’t know that wolf. Why would I know a wolf? How do you even know what a wolf is?” Lance spouted out, his thoughts blending together.

“We know because our Lance can transform into one,” Allura swiftly stepped in.

“Wha- your Lance?” Everything was becoming too much, he pressed his face into his hands. “Wait! He can transform into what!?”

“A wolf,” he turned to the side and saw his own face peering back at him. Everyone watched in apprehension as he processed. His team certainly still hadn’t recovered from the revelation.

“That is so… COOL!” He yelled with a wide grin.

“It is?”

“Are you kidding me!? That’s awesome!” He crowed, leaping off the bed. “Can you transform whenever you want? Or like, with the moon? Wait, are you a werewolf?” He asked, pushing into his double’s space.

“I can transform whenever I want but I forcibly transform whenever there's a full moon, so yeah I am a werewolf,” he said.

“Werewolves are real!” Yelled from behind him. “Wait does this mean that werewolves are real in our reality or is that the difference?”

“Or we could be in a reality that cryptids are real and Lance just isn’t a werewolf,” Keith theorized. “Are other cryptids real here?” He asked Lance, who couldn’t help but laugh at the serious expressions on their faces.

“Yeah, most of the ones that I’ve heard you talk about are real and I’ve met them,” he told them.

“Does that mean-” Keith started, his eyes lighting up.

“Yes, Mothman is real,” he interrupted with a smirk.

“I KNEW IT!” Keith screamed, jumping into the air. He spun around and jabbed a finger in Shiro’s chest. “SUCK IT SHIRO!”

“At least in this reality,” he continued, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Doesn’t matter, as long as he’s confirmed real somewhere,” he waved, still smirking victoriously at Shiro who was pouting and rubbing his chest.

“Anyway…” Allura drawled, pulling the attention to her. “There isn’t much we can do about it right now. We’ll have to look into the records and see if we have any information on these crystals that you told us about. For now, perhaps we could eat and relax for a little bit? I can imagine that your bodies must be going through quite a shock right now,”

“That would be great Princess, thank you,” Shiro said gratefully. They walked away from the infirmary and into the kitchen. The two Hunks immediately went into cooking mode and starting pulling stuff from the cupboards and fridge.

“At least our organizing habits stayed the same,” he commented. They danced around each other, expertly putting dishes together for their friends, barely having to talk to each other.

“Alright guys, soups on!” Hunk said, setting the plates on the table. Their stomachs grumbled in hungry and Lance reached out to serve himself a portion.

One moment, they were together making merry and having fun and the next they were gone in a flash of light.

☽

This time, it didn’t look like they warped near their counterparts. They were simply spat from whatever vortex they’ve been travelling through and rolling across marble flooring. It took a second for them to get their bearings and attempt to get up.

“Are we back yet?” Pidge asked, rubbing her head. Hunk cracked his eyes open and stared up at the stained glass ceiling, which was definitely not part of the Castle.

“Nope,” he sighed, closing his eyes again. The rest of them groaned in disappointment. It was cool at first to see where they would end up, but at this point, they just wanted to get home.

“Man, I really wanted some of that food. It smelled so good,” Lance whined.

“Um, are you okay?” A familiar voice asked them. Familiar but one that they hadn’t heard in quite a while. Pidge launched up.

“Matt?”

“Yeah…wait, what happened to your wings?” He asked, eyeing her up and down. “And your guy’s ears and tails?”

“Oh god, are we furries in this reality?” Lance breathed out with a wince. The rest of them gasped and looked to Matt with desperation.

“Please no,” Shiro said his eyes wide.

“Uhh, I mean, you guys are a little furry?” Matt answered in confusion. “Well me and Pidge have feathers but Lance, Keith, and Hunk are furry?”

“Wait about me?” Shiro asked, pointing to himself.

“Um, you’re human. You’re an exorcist,” he explained. “Wait, who are you guys?” He finally asked.

“We’re from a different reality. We were looking for training modules and ended up touching some magic gemstones or whatever and starting hopping realities,” Keith explained quickly.

“Wow, that’s crazy!” Matt exclaimed, his eyes shining in wonder.

“That didn’t take much convincing,” Pidge commented with a snort of amusement.

“We live in a world where people summon demons to fight for them, it’s not that hard to believe,” he said. “Except the part where there aren’t any familiars, I guess,” he hummed. He thought for a moment before he shook his head. “There aren’t familiars where you’re from right?”

“Not that I’ve heard of, in our reality a lot of people don’t even believe that demons exist,” Lance said, finally getting up from the floor.

“You don’t say. Anyway, I’m guessing that you want to meet yourselves?” Matt asked, looking down at his watch. “They went out on a mission earlier but they should be back soon,”

“Ooh, what kind of missions do we do?” Pidge asked curiously, walking beside her brother.

“This city is a hot spot for ghouls and it’s constantly under attack, whenever that happens you guys and your exorcists are sent out to take care of the threat,” Matt explained.

“Whoa! That’s so cool!” Lance cheered as Matt lead them into a high ceilinged room, filled with equipment.

“What is this place?” Lance asked, looking around the training room. It kind of reminded him of the training room from Kung Fu Panda. Did they have Kung Fu Panda here? Would that be degrading for familiars? Maybe they replaced the animals with familiars? That’d be pretty coo-

“They come here after missions to cool off before they head home. To make sure that they get all their energy out,” he explained. “You don’t want a hyped up familiar in a contained room if you can help it,”

“Can they be that reckless?” Shiro asked.

“I wouldn’t call it reckless. It’s like if you give too much sugar to a child, they don’t know what to do with all of their energy,”

They looked over when they heard the doors opening again and Hunk, Pidge, Keith, Lance, Shay, and Coran walked in. They looked exhausted, but as soon as they saw the other group, they were immediately on guard. The other Keith let out a chilling growl, stepping forward protectively in front of his team.

“Calm down Keith, it’s all good,” Matt said teasingly.

“Who are they?” Keith retorted, his ears perked straight up in alert.

“I’m getting tired of someone having to explain our situation. We’re from an alternate reality,” Lance groaned, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. At the sound of Lance’s voice, the fox seemed to calm slightly.

“I for one, am too tired to care about this right now,” The other Lance said, stepping away from his own group and walking over to stand in front of their Lance. “Aww, I’m missing all the things that stand out,” he pouted after a moment.

“Hey! I stand out plenty!” Lance declared, stomping his foot. The cat let out a happy laugh and took his hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you,” he said, inspecting Lance’s hand. “Wow, you don’t even have claws,”

“It’s fine and of course I don’t have claws! I’m human,” Lance said, letting himself be handled.

“That’s so weird, I couldn’t imagine myself without all this,” he said, gesturing to his marks and feline traits.

“Yeah, we just came from a reality where I was a werewolf. How’s that for weird?” He said with a snort.

“What! That’s crazy!” He said, his ears at attention.

“What’s crazy?” The fox Keith asked coming to join the two of them.

“What the fuck?” Lance choked out as the fox Keith wrapped an arm around his double’s waist. He thought that he’d hiss and smack it away but instead he leaned into his side with a purr. He heard a choke from beside him and glanced over at Keith. His eyes were wide and his mouth gaped open, he imagined that he didn’t look that much different.

Pidge on the other hand, wheezed loudly and kept glancing between the two pairs.

“HAHAHA HOLY SHIT!” She bent over, struggling to contain her mirth. Looking at the other members of his team, he saw that they were in a similar state and while they were containing it better than Pidge, even Shiro was struggling to keep face.

“Uh, is something wrong?” Shay asked, concern written on her face. At that, a new round of laughs erupted from their group. Meanwhile, Lance’s face kept getting redder and redder.

“Yes! What is going on with that?” He demanded, gesturing to the two familiars.

“Lance and Keith?” She asked in confusion.

“YES!” The two of them yelled, glaring at each other after.

“Um, they are married. Is that not the same for you two?” Their eyes widened in shock.

“WHAT!?” They yelled, again in sync. Apparently, the revelation of their relationship was enough to keep them from each other’s throats for the moment. Meanwhile, behind them, everyone lost all sense of composure and were laughing alongside Pidge.

“I think I’m gonna rupture something,” she rasped, clutching at her stomach.

“STOP! IT’S NOT FUNNY!” Lance roared, his face was alarming red at that point and Keith’s hair was covering his eyes.

“Shiro!” Lance shouted suddenly interrupting the moment. He jumped away from Keith’s hold and jumped onto the gym equipment, vaulting over the other side toward the exorcists that walked in. Apparently, the two of them were used to this and weren’t fazed in the least when Lance jumped at them. Shiro even caught him with a smile, still caught up in his conversation with Allura.

“Good job out there today Lance,” Shiro said happily as Lance curled his arms around his neck and nuzzled his cheek against the crown of Shiro’s head.

“Thanks, Shiro,” he beamed. The two of them walked over to the group, surprisingly unsurprised with the others being there.

“This is so fucking weird,” Lance whispered to himself. First, he was married to Keith, now he was all cuddly with Shiro. This was a culture shock if he’d ever felt one.

“We heard about your presence from the head priest,” Allura told the group. “He sent us with this,” she pulled the bag hanging over her shoulder off and opened it carefully.

“Hey! Those look like the gemstones from the Castle,” Hunk commented.

“He just said to handle them and they should take you back to where you belong,” Shiro said helpfully from what was basically a chokehold his familiar had on him.

“Oh thank god,” Lance said, eagerly sticking his hand into the bag. Unlike before, he felt a whirlwind pick him up before he was blinded by a bright flash of light and like nothing even happened they were back in the storage room, scattered through the room. They groaned in relief, relaxing onto the floor.

“Alright kids, what did we learn from this experience?” Shiro asked, his arms covering his face.

“Mothman is real,”

“Keith, no,”

“Keith, yes,”

[when-they-write-stuff]

okay you seem really nice lol, but idk if you take random prompts and its fine if you don't but i've really been feeling a "they get tied together and derek is in the back with stiles pressed against him omg-" fic ever since i saw a fan art like that for one of my other otp's,, so like if you could??? thatd be great

Oh heck yeah, I’m always down for a random prompt! And oh my gosh, this one is absolutely fantastic.

- -

Stiles thought this sounded like the beginning of a bad joke.

Two people get tied together back to back— an Alpha werewolf and the local token human— and one tries to get loose and accidentally ends up in a compromising position. What happens then? Absolutely nothing good for the innocent teenager that said Alpha werewolf is currently pressed up against.

Stiles hated everything sometimes.

It started when Stiles had been used as bait for the newest threat of Beacon Hills. He thought hunters were a little tiring, especially because they’d just come off of a bloodthirsty witch and that had been the ride of a lifetime. So when Jackson offered him up to be the hook, line, and sinker, he didn’t even try to argue. Their pack could handle a few hunters, after all.

Stiles had been wrong before.

He decided later, with a bloody nose and black eye as he lied tied up on the cold floor, that he hated everything. Hunters, werewolves, all the jazz. Stiles just wanted a nap and then maybe some curly fries.

After this, someone was buying him curly fries.

Stiles tried not to wince as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, trying to draw into himself as much as he could. But the hands bound behind his back didn’t help. Nor did that fact that his entire body screamed in pain every time he dared to move an inch.

The hunter knelt down in front of him and Stiles got an eyeful of brown teeth.

“We’ll ask you one more time, boy. Where is the Hale-McCall pack?”

“Dude,” Stiles said, trying to roll away. “Breath freshener, whitening toothpaste, or something. Please invest.”

Stiles’s words were rewarded with a kick to the ribs, which he really should have expected. That didn’t change the fact that his breaths leaped from his lungs, though, or how he curled in on himself even more, choking out a small cry of pain.

Brown-teeth sneered down at him. “Wanna try that again?”

“I thought you were only asking me one more time.”

Stiles got another kick, harder this time. He tried to bite back his noise of pain but it came out anyway, more of a whine than a cry through gritted teeth. Laughter rolled around the room and Stiles gasped welty into the floor, tasting blood in his mouth.

“Come on boy,” the hunter said, crouching down again. “Is the pain really worth protecting a bunch of mutts? Tell us where we can find the Hale-McCall pack and we’ll let you go.”

“Minty gum works too,” Stiles said in a gasp. “With the stench at least, if you’re too lazy to brush.”

“Mouthy little shit—”

Before the hunter could strike him again, a loud roar filled the air. Stiles’s heart leaped and he tried to look up, only to groan and curl back in on himself. His everything hurt and honestly, he was surprised he was still conscious right now.

He heard… a growl. A single growl. Nothing else, no resounding howls or thankful sounds of rescue. Stiles blinked a few times as a gunshot filled the air followed by the sound of cheers.

Stiles’s heart plummeted. In five seconds, someone was being tossed next to him and he didn’t have to look long to realize who it was.

Stiles swallowed the taste of blood in his mouth. Derek laid next to him, a glowing bullet in his shoulder while his chest rose and fell in pants. Slowly, despite himself, Stiles raised a brow.

“Hey there, Sourwolf. You come to save me?”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“I’m feeling very good about this entire situation right now. Thanks a ton.”

“Stiles.”

There was a footstep right behind Stiles’s head. He winced and cursed as brown-teeth leaned down again, glancing between them. Derek snarled weakly and Stiles only rolled his eyes.

“Well,” the man said. “The Hale Alpha and the pack human?”

“I never get a cool title,” Stiles grumbled. Derek gave him a red-eyed look, which Stiles pointedly ignored. He was aware of a hand on his arm, yanking him up, and his entire body screamed in pain at the sudden movement.

He didn’t mean to make a noise, but it just slipped out. Derek snarled again and the man laughed, dragging Stiles to his feet. But he didn’t make it all the way before his world was dipping in and out of darkness. Stiles tried to stay conscious— he really did.

But it was a losing battle from the start.

By the time Derek was trying to rise to his feet, only to get kicked back down again, Stiles had given into the black. He heard the man call his name, was aware of the floor coming again, too fast this time. And then… nothing.

Nothing.

Stiles thought that right now, he liked it better that way.

-

So where was he? Oh yeah, the beginning of a bad joke.

Stiles woke up with his hands bound behind his back. The first thing he thought was that his head pounded. The second was more along the lines of how hot he was— and not just to the eyes. Stiles felt like he was being pressed against a space heater. 

His third realization was that he basically was.

“Stiles,” Derek said, shifting carefully. “Are you awake?”

“No,” Stiles whined. “Or at least, I don’t want to be. Knock me back out again, please.”

The man sighed. 

Glancing around, Stiles realized they were alone. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, attempting to shift in his bonds only to groan. The pain pounded through his head and rippled all the way down the rest of him, like a full body ache he couldn’t escape.

Until Derek caught his hand, that was. Then slowly, some of the pain ebbed away.

“Okay,” Stiles said tiredly. “What now?”

“Someone will find us.”

“Someone like Scott? Who occasionally gets lost trying to find his own shadow?”

“Someone like Lydia,” Derek said. “Or Boyd.”

“Yay for Lydia and Boyd.”

“Would you rather be stuck alone in this?”

Stiles thought about that for a moment. Derek growled at his silence and Stiles couldn’t help smirking a little, feeling much better now that the man was taking some of his pain. But then Derek pulled away and Stiles whined again.

“Hey, no, dude, put your hand back on mine. I hurt!”

“I have a bullet in my shoulder, Stiles.”

Oh yeah. That was a thing too.

“Well,” Stiles said, refusing to be cowed. “That’s usually what happens when you come bursting into a hunter’s safehouse alone. What the hell is even with that anyway? Why didn’t you bring the rest of the pack?”

“I didn’t think I’d need them.”

“You didn’t— oh my god, Derek, I hate your Alpha ego sometimes.”

Derek only huffed. Stiles really hated him.

“Fine, is there anything you can do? These are ropes, have you tried like, chewing your way out of them or something?”

He was pretty sure the man tried to shoot a glare over his shoulder. “Wolfsbane infused, Stiles.”

“Well, that’s just fantastic.”

“Your comments aren’t helping.”

“Should I start screaming for help instead? I mean, that might end up attracting the hunters, but I can scream pretty loud when I want to. The pack might hear if we’re lucky.”

“No, Stiles,” Derek said, sounding pained. Stiles sighed.

“Fine, but neither of us are dying here. Not you and your stupid shoulder wound or me and my stupid everywhere else wounds.”

Derek tensed against him. “Are they bad?”

“They?”

“Your injuries, Stiles.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, shifting a little bit. “Okay, no not really. Just a bruise or two, a black eye and a split lip. I think brown-teeth might have cracked a rib but—”

“Brown teeth?”

Stiles grinned, despite himself. “Am I wrong though?”

Derek huffed.

“Okay,” Stiles said. “What if one of us managed to wiggle out of the ropes. I mean, I could probably do it. I’m small and wiggly and—”

“And you have a cracked rib.”

“I should’ve known not to tell you about that.”

Derek sighed. Stiles squeaked in surprised as the man was suddenly moving, and then the ropes across his chest were twisting and moving along with Derek’s attempts to break free. In a matter of moments, Stiles realized the man was in a whole new position, but it was definitely not free.

“Derek,” he said, blinking at the opposite wall. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

The man didn’t answer. Stiles glanced to each side and nodded as he spotted the large legs straddling him. Because yeah, this was just his luck. And things couldn’t get any better.

“I swear to god,” he said, wishing Derek could see the venomous look currently on his face. “The next time you don’t let me do the wiggling because of a ‘cracked rib’, please remember that things like this happen.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“I’m just saying,” Stiles said. “This right now? This should count as a cruel and unusual punishment.”

“I could make it cruel and unusual.”

“Please don’t say things like that when certain parts of you are literally pressed against certain parts of me.”

“Stiles.”

“What, Sourwolf, are you going to tell me to shut up again? Because I’ll have you know I’ve had just about enough of that and you and— Derek.”

The man didn’t answer, but he’d gone rigid pressed up against Stiles’s back. Stiles closed his eyes for a long moment and took a deep breath, trying to calm his sudden rapidly pounding heart. It didn’t help much.

“Derek,” he said, voice cracking. “Stop that.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Some part of you is doing something.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“Why, is me talking a turn on? Oh my god, me talking is totally a turn on. Derek! Stop that!”

“I’m not doing anything,” the man snarled, breaths hot against his ear. And suddenly, Stiles’s heart was pounding for a whole new reason. This was so totally not fair.

“You are doing everything right now, asshole.”

“Then stop talking!”

“I always lived under the impression that my talking was a boner-killer, not the magic spell that brings one to life!”

Silence fell over the warehouse. Stiles’s face was red and hot and he forced himself not to shift, trying to relax against Derek’s chest instead. But then Derek made a small noise at the back of his throat and Stiles realized that wasn’t an option either.

“Okay,” he said softly. “How did I never know this was possible until we were literally sitting on death’s door?”

“I hate you.”

“Clearly, not all of you does.”

“Stiles, I swear to god—”

“Okay, okay,” Stiles said. “We don’t know how much longer we have until the hunters come back. Now, as terrified as I am that they come to kill us, I’m even more terrified of being caught in this position right now. So can we please try to figure out how to get out of these ropes?”

Derek didn’t answer for a moment. Then the man sighed. “I can’t break them, but maybe you can.”

“Maybe I can? How.”

“I don’t know, Stiles, use your teeth or something.”

“You want me to bend over,” Stiles said, his heart thudding against his chest even harder. “And attempt to chew through the ropes.”

Once more, Derek was silent. Stiles scoffed.

“I thought so.”

“So you’d rather we just wait here to die?”

“I’d rather we not be in the position at all, Sourwolf!”

“Oh, it’s that bad, is it?”

Stiles clenched his jaw and didn’t answer. He glared at the wall for a long moment before glancing down at the ropes circling his chest. He supposed he could try. After all, what dignity did he really have left?

“Okay,” he said quietly. “If I try this—”

“You don’t have to, Stiles.”

“I’d rather get out of here alive than dead, Sourwolf.”

Derek sighed, breaths warm on the back of Stiles’s neck. He still shivered, despite himself, and then tensed even more when he heard the man murmur a quiet “sorry”.

“Uh, dude? What for?”

“I don’t,” Derek said, and then cursed. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” Stiles said intelligently. He blinked a few times before it really sunk in. “Oh. I mean, dude, I’m a little hot right now. You radiate warmth like a space heater, you know that? And the ropes are rubbing a little uncomfortably across my chest—”

“Stiles.”

“Okay,” Stiles said quietly. “You’re not making me uncomfortable. I just… didn’t realize?”

“Realize what.”

“That clearly, dude, you’re all about this hot bod.”

Derek’s sigh was one-hundred percent pained. But Stiles grinned a little bit to himself, wishing he could meet the man’s gaze. He startled as Derek rested his chin on Stiles’s shoulder and the man’s lips brushed against the shell of his ear, making him shiver.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly. “Get us out of these ropes.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles squeaked. “Right away.”

Except, before he could even do anything, the door across the warehouse burst open. Stiles startled so hard, he spilled sideways. Faintly, he heard Derek shout his name, blinked as the world started to tip, and then they were both crashing hard against the floor, the impact making Stiles feeling like he’d cracked another two ribs or so.

“Oh,” Stiles said, voice cracking. “Ouch.”

“Dammit, Stiles.”

The sound of laughter filled the air as a couple pairs of footsteps approached. Stiles felt his face go hot and fixed his gaze on the floor, even as brown-teeth stood over him.

“Trying to go somewhere, boy?”

“No,” Stiles said. “Just, uh, hanging out. You know? Having a hell of a time right now.”

“You amuse me. I might kill you last.”

“... Is there any way I can dissuade you from killing me at all?”

The man chuckled and grabbed Stiles by the hair, starting to tilt his head upward. But suddenly there was a bang, a crash, and then a series of howls that struck the air.

Stiles had never felt so relieved.

Brown-teeth let his head fall back down and Stiles grunted in pain. But he’d take the stars flashing before his vision if it came with a rescue. Derek shifted against his back and Stiles felt warm breaths against his skin again.

He tensed as someone moved around the room toward them. Stiles snarled at the back of his throat as a shadow fell over them again but then Erica laughed and Stiles went silent.

He turned his head upward, blinking at the beta. She was smirking from ear to ear, eyes flicking from Stiles, to Derek, and then back.

“Well, it looks like you two got in a messy situation.”

“Erica,” Stiles groaned. “Just get us out.” 

“Hm,” she said, glancing at the ropes. “That’s wolfsbane. Have you tried using your teeth?”

Derek growled, but the beta only smirked wider. Stiles had to remind himself that murder was illegal and he was the Sheriff’s son.

Still, relief crashed over him like no other when Allison came running across the room. Stiles had never been so happy to see another pack human in his entire life.

Allison glanced over them, shared an amused look with Erica, and then dropped down, slicing through the ropes. Stiles slumped forward, wincing a little as the extra weight was put onto his rib cage. In a moment, Scott was moving across the room toward him, but Stiles waved a hand through the air, gesturing toward Derek.

“He’s the one with a wolfsbane bullet embedded in his shoulder.”

“No,” Derek growled. “He’s got a cracked rib.”

“Two now, I think,” Stiles said in a groan. “But that won’t kill me, asshole. Stop trying to be heroic.”

“You stop—”

“Okay,” Boyd said, cutting in. “There are more of us than you. Derek, do you need Deaton?”

“I need a bullet. And Stiles needs a hospital.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said. “I hate you so much sometimes.”

“Lie.”

“Shut up.”

“Um, alright,” Scott said. “We’re going to do one more sweep of the warehouse. You two… figure this out?”

Stiles gave his best friend a withering look but Scott only smiled apologetically and backed away. As the rest of the betas followed, Stiles turned the look toward Derek. But at the man’s sweeping gaze over him, with concern in his eyes, any and all irritation melted.

“So,” Stiles said. Derek rolled his eyes, shifting a little with a grunt. 

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“What, are we just never going to talk about this again?”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Derek mumbled. Stiles looked at him for a long moment before cursing everything. Why was Derek always so difficult?

A spastic teenager and an emotionally constipated werewolf try to admit their feelings. Sounded like the beginning of a bad joke.

“Derek,” he said softly. “You don’t make me uncomfortable.”

The man eyed him dubiously. Still rolled his eyes.

“Okay, but not in a bad way. Only like, when I’m trying not to get an inappropriate boner during shirtless trainings, or when you give the betas red-eyed looks, or when—”

“Stiles.”

Stiles frowned. “The point is, I’m—”

“A teenager.”

“Eighteen.”

“Who can’t control himself, but I should be able to—”

“Derek, shut up.”

Derek gave him a sour look. Pushing himself up with a grunt, Stiles leaned forward and cupped the man’s chin, studying his face. 

“Is this control?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“This,” Stiles said. “Is control. And this,”  he leaned closer, touching his lips to the man’s forehead, “is proof that maybe I would like to lose it sometimes, but in every good way possible—”

Derek cut him off by turning his face upward and catching his lips. Stiles grinned and hummed his approval, making Derek growl. 

They were cut off by clapping behind them. Erica looked smug, the other betas looked uncomfortable, and Scott just looked a little confused. Derek glared but Erica only grinned wider.

“Too bad all the hunters are dead. I totally would have thanked them.”

“Erica.”

“I mean all that unsolved sexual tension—”

“Erica.”

But Stiles only grinned back at her. Because a werewolf and a human get tied together; sounds like the start to a bad joke. That’s what he thought about three hours ago, at least.

The punchline though? Stiles supposed it was satisfactory in the end.

To say the least.

- -

I never realized how much I wanted to write this prompt until now. I had so much fun with it! You’re fantastic, nonnie, I hope I did it justice!

(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your underpaid student writer? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer