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#how the hell does a werewolf look? stay tuned
sugarrazz · 1 year
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hi! I stumbled across your Wednesday drabble and I really loved it! could I request some Wednesday x reader headcanons? like how would Wednesday react to reader being flirted with?
Hi anon, not sure which one you’re talking about since I have 2 up right now but I’m glad you enjoy my work and stay tuned for more! On to the headcanons!
Wednesday has been obsessed with you and her friends are starting to notice.
Enid teases her when she’s caught staring at you from afar. 
One day Wednesday spots you in the quad talking to a new student.
He suddenly puts his arm around your shoulder and she can see your face get as red as a tomato. 
On the outside, she is okay. She’s calm and collected.
On the inside, she is fuming. Who the hell does this guy think he is?
Not just anyone can talk to you. They have to go through her first. Wednesday is the one who decides who can hang out with you. And this guy snuck right under her radar.
Wednesday stomps over to you and the new boy, cutting off your conversation.
“You didn’t introduce me to your friend.”
You introduce him to Wednesday but she remains unimpressed.
When he tries to talk to you again Wednesday grabs your wrist and pulls you away.
“You’re not allowed to talk to that wannabe werewolf. Understand?”
You mindlessly nod your head and Wednesday kisses your head, which is unusual for her to do, especially in public.
This guy is going to regret flirting with you. You’re hers.
Wednesday is definitely going to stalk this guy.
Everywhere he goes she will remind him that he is not alone.
Dead crows falling out of the sky in front of him while he shops at Jericho.
Rat traps in his backpack (how did they get there?).
Wednesday is going to be a lot touchier with you than normal because of how irritated she is.
She'll also rant about him to Enid and you (separately) when you're in your dorms.
She'll grab your waist and glare at him every time you pass him by the halls.
She will be reluctant to leave your side just in case that weirdo shows up and tries his shot again.
She frequently thinks of ways to murder him in cold blood and make it look like an accident.
He eventually transfers out because it's too much.
After carrying out her revenge she is in a better mood. She even holds your hand on the way to class. Everyone was shocked.
But Wednesday isn't just happy because he "transferred". That couldn't be farther from the truth. She did it for you.
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surroundedbypearls · 1 year
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‘CLOSET PUN’ - Excerpt #9
Hazel: The Changeling Draft 1
[Excerpt below the cut!]
“I’d haunt the hell out of my own grave,” Hazel mused as they walked. She’d make a beautiful ghost. All around her, the others’ auras glinted in shades of yellow, green, a sickly grey. Their curiosity made them joyous. But beneath it was the fear of what they were walking into.
At least being out in the trees was making her feel better. She hated to think she was growing used to feeling just a little bit unwell. Was this what humans felt like all the time? Were they always just a little bit sick?
“Vampires don’t leave spirits behind,” May said, cutting through the lively chatter. Then she gave a wild grin. “Don’t look so glum. At least we don’t drag it out.”
Eventually, they came to the stone walls Toby had described. She could see how someone walking by might totally miss it. In other circumstances, she might find it enchanting. She ran her hand alone the tangles of ivy, so thick there were times her hands vanished beneath the vines.
“It’s like something out of a storybook,” she said, feeling the ivy pulse with life beneath her palm. So much life in a place for the dead.
“When do you think that lock was placed?” Jet asked as he circled back around to the door. His aura shimmered as he examined it, turning from a twinge of fear to only focus. “Does anyone know how to pick a lock? We shouldn’t break it.”
“Why not?”
“Because then whoever put it there will know someone stopped for a visit,” Junie said, walking to look at the lock.
“Unless they’re a werewolf,” Toby said, eyeing the lock with suspicion as though it might come loose and bite him. “Then they’d smell us.”
“Well, let’s not think about that now.” May folded her arms, looking up at the wall. “It’s not too high. Come on.” She bent her knee and cupped her hands into a little step. “We’ll vault you guys over.”
“I’ll cross over first, in case anyone-” Toby cast a sheepish glance at May. “-uh, vaults themselves too far.”
She rolled her eyes, but said nothing as he took a running leap and scaled over the wall.
Hazel took a deep breath and decided to go first. She put one foot up on May’s hands, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Ready?”
Without waiting for an answer, May thrust her upwards and she went flying, grasping for the ivy and pulling herself up over the wall.
“Catch me, Toby,” she called, rolling herself over the wall without stopping. He did.
“You’re heavy.”
“You’ve got above average strength. Quit lying to me.”
He put her down with a grin. Only seconds later, Richie popped up onto the wall, swinging one leg over and carefully hopping down to land beside them. Junie came next, Toby reaching to help her scale down the wall, while Jet leapt over the wall with ease. May was last, silent as a cat.
“Let’s not take too long,” she said, eyes scanning the garden. “Anything suspicious out here?”
“I hadn’t noticed anything.”
Hazel looked around the garden, at the long, tangling grasses, the weeds tangling through the cracks in the old stone path, climbing up the legs of the statues. She passed her energy into the garden, to flow through the plants, to sense the ground for some disturbance, anything that might be worth looking at. They whispered back to her, showing her what they saw.
“There’s nothing out here but weeds,” she said.
She tuned towards the mausoleum, a kind of cold dread creeping up on her. She would be fine while the others were here, she was sure of that. She couldn’t imagine how terrified Toby had been when he walked up to it alone. And because he still eyed it with wide eyes, his aura pulsing and quivering in silver and indigo, she went to touch his shoulder before they dared approach it.
“It’ll be fine,” she said, keeping her voice low. Sure, he wasn't exactly keeping his phobia of the dead a secret. But he didn’t want it advertised, either. “Stay close.”
More on Closet Pun here! Leave an ask or a comment to be added to the taglist.
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nellyharrison · 1 year
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growing strong, CH. 3
aka my rewrite of season 2 of Teen Wolf based on the question: what if Erica was best friends with Scott and Stiles from the beginning?
Erica takes even more control of her life by changing her look to reflect her sexy inner she-wolf, creating a new and unexpected challenge for Scott and Stiles.  Meanwhile, Erica helps Derek pick the next member of their pack.
CHAPTER THREE - ICE PICK (click to read on AO3)
Something Erica had been looking forward to since becoming a werewolf was the ability to not make a fool out of herself in gym class.  She had no intention of becoming some star athlete, but the fact that she wasn’t dreading the rock-climbing lesson that week spoke volumes about her self-confidence.  As she watched Scott and Allison ascend the wall, she couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.  Scott had texted her to tell her what they had seen at Isaac’s after she and Derek had left, but she was at just as much of a loss as he was for what the creature was.  Only when he made a comment to Allison about “the view” did she try to tune them out.  Although, she wished she had kept listening so she knew what Scott had done to cause Allison to knock him off-balance enough that he fell to the mat below.
“McCall, I don’t know why, but your pain gives me a special kind of joy,” Coach Finstock joked as he sat beside Scott.  He stood, still chuckling, and looked around at the class.  “Alright, next two.  Stilinski, Erica, let’s go.”
Erica walked up to the wall, trying her best to ignore Stiles, but she could feel him glancing over at her every few seconds.  She began to climb, taking her time, and he stayed in pace with her.  When they got high enough that the majority of the class couldn’t hear them, she looked over at him.  “Either say something or stop looking at me.  You’re freaking me out.”
“I don’t know how to talk to you anymore,” he blurted out, and she gripped the wall as the weight of his words nearly knocked her off balance.  “I don’t know why, but you becoming a werewolf is really different from Scott becoming a werewolf.  I don’t know how to handle it.  You’re like a whole new person now.”
“You get how completely unfair that is, right?” she pointed out, trying to start climbing again.  “Maybe I haven’t changed as much as you think I have.  Have you considered that?  Maybe this is who I’ve always been.  Maybe you’re just finally seeing me instead of the image you had of me since we were six.”
“So you have always been into Derek?” he abruptly changed subjects, and she stopped climbing again to glare at him.  “What?  It was pretty obvious last night that you don’t see him as just a friend.”
“Why do you care?” she questioned once more, openly exasperated.  “Seriously, why does that seem to be the only change in me you ever notice?  I could come to school naked and you wouldn’t bat an eye, but the minute I even look at a guy that isn’t you, you jump down my throat.”
“You know what?  Fine.  I don’t care.  You can screw Derek, or Isaac, or Jackson, or whoever the hell you want, okay?  I could care less,” Stiles declared, starting to climb higher than her.  She tried climbing faster too, not wanting him to beat her to the top.  “You’re the one who’s spent all these years trying to convince me Catwoman and Batman were soulmates.”
It had been an off-hand comment, but it was completely true.  Over the years, they had many arguments about the relationship between the two comic book characters, Stiles remaining adamant that just because they had a romantic relationship didn’t mean they were destined to be together forever.  Erica never intended for their nicknames and her feelings to drive her fight to convince him he was wrong, but clearly he hadn’t been as oblivious as she thought he had always been.  This realization had knocked her off balance, her foot slipping, and she found herself falling to the mat.  As her back found the soft landing pads, her eyes met Stiles’s harshly.  She could see the apology on his face, but it didn’t matter.  The damage was done.
Standing up, she nearly ripped her harness in her attempt to remove it, Scott calling her name as she stormed past the rest of the class and out the door.  She had her phone out as she went to change, Derek answering with a dull greeting before she was asking him to pick her up.  He didn’t question her reasons for wanting to leave, simply agreeing and promising to be there within ten minutes.  She hung up and got dressed in her regular clothes, grabbing her belongings before making a quick stop at her locker on the way out.  As she left the school, Derek was pulling up out front, and she slid into his car with ease.
“Mall.  Now,” she demanded.  He shook his head, but set off for the mall, waiting for her to open up in her own time, like he knew she would eventually.  “I need some new clothes.  Lots of them.  A new wardrobe.  Something that will reflect the person I want to be now.”
“And who is that?” he questioned.
“Someone bolder, freer, sexier,” she answered, lifting her chin as she breathed through her nose.  “Stiles thinks I’m a whole new person?  I will become a whole new person.”
“Should I be concerned that you’re doing this just to shut Stiles up?” he asked, glancing over at her.
“Now who’s being jealous?” she countered, quirking a brow as she smirked.
“Erica.”
She sighed, looking away as she thought about his question.  “I’m tired of feeling invisible,” she admitted.  “I want them all to regret the way they’ve treated me.”
When Derek didn’t respond, she looked over at him, but he was intently looking at the road ahead.  She glanced away again, wondering if she was making a mistake.  “I want you to get everything you want, Erica.  I don’t think changing yourself to impress a guy is the way to go, but if that’s what you want-”
“It’s not to impress him,” she assured him.  “And I don’t think it’s all about him either.  I think he’s pushed me to do it, but it’s something I’ve always wanted.  I wanted it for the formal, and that ended up an even bigger disaster than I could have imagined.  I do feel like a new person, now that I’m a werewolf.  I want the outside to reflect the inside.”
“I can get behind that,” he declared, nodding certainly as he pulled into a parking spot at the mall.  Erica was expecting to shop on her own, but he parked the car and got out, waiting for her to join him before they both headed inside.  They ended up spending the rest of the morning shopping, trying on and buying an entire wardrobe of new clothes.  Erica bought some of the items with her credit card, but Derek insisted on footing the bill in a lot of the stores they went into.  He insisted it was just because he had the money to spend, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t drop that much money on Isaac if he asked.  Before they left the mall, she changed into the outfit she wanted to return to school in.  As she stepped out, he was initially stunned silent by the sight of her, swallowing dryly before promising, “They’re going to regret every wrong they’ve ever done to you.”
Erica arrived back at school around lunch, so most people were either in class or in the cafeteria.  She walked towards the cafeteria confidently, the click-clack of her heels echoing in the empty halls.  As she got closer, she focused on the conversations inside until she heard Stiles talking to Boyd.  She and Boyd had quite a few classes together, and they’d become casual friends over the course of a few projects together.  As she listened to the way he held his own against Stiles, she smirked and decided she wanted to suggest to Derek that he join their pack next.
Pushing down the last bit of nerves that appeared at the sight of the open cafeteria doors, Erica strutted around the corner, drawing the attention of everyone in the lunchroom.  Her eyes drifted over the crowd until she found Scott and Stiles’s shocked expressions, amusing and empowering her.  She kept scanning the crowd until she saw a guy she remembered had called her a freak throughout eighth grade, only now, his jaw was on the floor as he watched her approach.  She walked right up to him, bending over to grab the apple on his tray as she leaned towards him.  She looked over at the equally dumbfounded guy sitting across from him as she took a bite from the apple.  Wiping at the corner of her lips with a smirk, she straightened up and turning to walk away with an extra swing of her hips in each step.  She overheard Lydia’s question, smirking a bit more as she glanced back, then took one more bite of her apple, shot a wink towards Boyd, and left the room.
She barely got into the hall before she heard Scott and Stiles following after her, but she kept walking until they reached a quieter hallway.  “Do you two need something?” she asked coyly, turning to face them and biting off another chunk from her apple.
“Uh, you think?” Stiles gaped, squirming slightly where he stood.
“What the hell was that, Erica?” Scott demanded, his eyes darting to her lips when she licked at them before glaring at the knowing smirk of hers that followed.
“No,” she decided, shaking her head before successfully tossing the apple into a trash can all the way at the other end of the hallway.  “You two gave up the right to know why I do things when you shut me out.  You were supposed to be my best friends, but you couldn’t accept the decision I made.  This is me now.”  She didn’t wait for them to give her their blessings or tear into her for her choices.  She just turned and walked away, thankful that the bell rang and the halls filled with people, allowing her to escape.
Her best friends were not the only ones that had something to say about her change in wardrobe.  Plenty of girls either complimented her on her clothes, or they made snide remarks about them behind her back.  Most of the guys were too struck speechless any time she entered a room to be able to say anything positive or negative.  Danny told her she looked like sex on legs, and that was the only contribution she really needed from the male population.  It wasn’t until after school that she was approached by someone that she was actually curious to hear an opinion from.
“First things first,” Lydia started, sidling up to her at her locker.  “Where did you get those shoes?”
“If I tell you my secrets, then how will I keep any mystery for myself?” Erica joked.  “I got everything at the mall, but you have to put in the work to find them.”
“I love a good challenge,” Lydia assured her, smirking up at her.  “You know, every guy is going to want a chance with you after that display at lunch today.  I think you could use a little bit of my magic touch, so I’m going to set you up.  First, I’m going to need to learn about your type and dating style, so why don’t you join some of us on a group date tonight?  It’s Scott, Allison, Stiles, and I so far, but the more, the merrier.”
Erica had nearly snorted when Lydia suggested setting her up, but then she had mentioned a group date and told her the attendants and her face fell.  Scott and Stiles were having a double date with the girls of their dreams.  If she wasn’t already determined to do so, that right there told her it was time to move on with her life.  “I’m flattered, Lydia, but I… already have a date tonight.  Something new.  Not sure if it’ll work out, but I’m hopeful.”
“Oh, well then forget I said anything,” Lydia declared, waving her hand.  “But if it doesn’t work out, you know where to find me, yeah?”  She waited for Erica to nod, then bumped her hip playfully with her own as she passed her on her way down the hallway.
The date in question was less of a date and more of a conversation with her alpha on turning Boyd.  She knew his story probably better than she knew Isaac’s, and she was more confident in how good of an addition to their pack he would make than any desire he had for power.  Truthfully, she wanted to surround herself and Derek with people they could not only depend on but that they would feel comfortable with for many years, if not the rest of their lives.  She took the idea of pack very seriously, and only wanted those that she felt truly fit to be a part of theirs.  Eventually, Derek agreed to ask Boyd if he wanted the Bite, but made Erica promise not to approach him about it before he could.  He didn’t want her to sway the teen boy’s decision on such a serious matter.  Erica was okay with keeping her distance, feeling in her gut that Boyd would be pack soon.
The next day at school, Erica was at her locker during study hall when she felt Scott appear behind her.  Taking a deep breath, she turned around, quirking a brow in invitation for him to speak.
“Two’s not enough for Derek,” he stated.  “I know he needs at least three, so who’s next?”
Erica scoffed, closing her locker before starting to walk towards him.  “Why does there have to be a next when we’ve already got you?”
“Who’s next?” he demanded.  He had already made it clear to her that he would not be joining Derek’s pack.
“You know, you never asked me why I asked for the Bite,” she realized.  “Aren’t you at least a little bit curious?”
“I don’t care,” he shook his head, but she could hear the lie in his heartbeat, and he knew it too.
“It was Peter that told me it could cure my epilepsy,” she told him.  As she continued, she watched for his reaction to the truths she had kept from him.  “Granted, he only told me that because he was threatening to turn me if you didn’t join him, but it made me think.  I’ve had it for so long that I never really considered what my life could be like if I didn’t have epilepsy.  I dreamed and I hoped, of course, but I never actually thought it was an option for me until that moment.  Once I had, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.  He was going to give me the Bite the night of the formal.  He found me alone while you and Stiles were busy on the dancefloor, and he had my wrist and was about to do it, but then I realized I didn’t want to be like you.”  She couldn’t help but scoff when his expression changed from concerned to remorseful before settling on hurt, but she pressed on.  “I didn’t want to be stuck with an alpha that only wanted me for his power.  I didn’t want to be Peter’s beta.  So I said no, and I accepted that I would never feel the kind of freedom he had offered me.  And then Derek became the alpha.”
Scott rolled his eyes and Erica began walking towards him, backing him up towards the lockers as she continued.  “You never really trusted him, and I never understood how you couldn’t see what I do.  Sure, he’s a little rougher around the edges, but you are so much like him.  You are both loyal, and stubborn, and caring, and broken, and so, so judgmental.”  Her breathing grew shakier as she felt her anger bubbling up, her hand pushing at his shoulder a few times as she asked, “When did you realize I wasn’t the innocent saint you thought I was, huh, Scott?  When did you decide I was too messed up to be worth caring about?”
As his back hit the lockers, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards him as his eyes met hers.  “I have never stopped caring about you, Erica,” he told her, holding her hand over his heart so she could feel that he wasn’t lying as well as hear it.  “I never thought you were a saint, either.  I’ve always known who you are, which is why I was so thrown off when you asked for the Bite.  I never saw it coming.  After watching everything I’ve gone through, I never thought you would choose to be a monster like me.”
“Why does being a werewolf automatically mean we’re monsters?” she asked him, her expression softening as she stepped into his space.  His head tilted towards her, his forehead nearly touching hers as his fingers slotting over hers on his chest.  “Look at me now, Scott.”  Before she could elaborate on her point, she sensed a pair of eyes on them, and they both turned to find Allison watching them.  Erica immediately took a step away from him, but his hand lingered over hers for a moment too long, keeping her hand pinned against his chest.  “That’s right.  You only have eyes for her,” she realized, pulling her hand from his grasp as she took another step back when his eyes finally returned to her.  He spared a glance to find Allison gone, then sighed as he faced Erica.  “You and I both saw what happened to that omega.  You know what it means as much as I do.  Whether you join us or not, we need to prepare to fight.  That means finding strength in numbers.  I’m sorry, Superman.”
She gave him one chance to say something - anything - before setting off down the hall, pulling out her phone briefly to text Derek that Scott was onto them.  She didn’t think Scott would be able to stop them even if he wanted to, but she decided to keep an ear on him the rest of the day.  Better to know what he was up to than allow her alpha to get ambushed.  It was lunch time when she overheard something she probably could have gone without hearing.
“I know how it looked, but we were just talking,” Scott promised Allison.
“I’m not jealous,” Allison replied, and even from where she was sitting, Erica could hear her heart betray her.
“You’re not?” Scott asked, playing into her lie so she wouldn’t feel bad.  He didn’t want to force her into admitting it if she didn’t want to.
“She’s with Derek now, isn’t she?” Allison wondered in lieu of answering him.
“Apparently,” Scott sighed.
“Like Isaac?” Allison added.
“Oh,” Scott muttered. “Uh, yeah, that too.”
“You can’t get caught in the middle of this,” Allison warned him.  “Don’t you feel what’s happening?  My grandfather coming here, Derek turning Erica and Isaac, it’s…” she trailed off to clear her throat.  “It’s like battle lines are being drawn.”
“I know,” Scott admitted.
“There’s always crossfire,” Allison pointed out.
While Scott knew that Allison was referring to them, he couldn’t help but think about Erica getting caught in that crossfire.  The Argents would surely go after Derek and whoever was closest to him first, which meant Erica would be directly targeted.  “What am I supposed to do?” he asked Allison pleadingly.  “I can’t just stand by, especially with Erica involved.  I can’t pretend to be normal.”
“I don’t want you to be normal, I want you to be alive,” Allison told him.
Erica was going to tune out Scott for a while after that, but then she heard Stiles’s voice, and the realization he had about Boyd being missing.  Swearing under her breath, she texted Derek and waited for orders on how to proceed.  As she waited, she heard Scott and Stiles move through the school, planning their next moves.  She sent Derek what she was hearing, hoping it would help him decide, then felt herself freeze when Stiles started talking about her.
“You gotta admit, Erica looks pretty good,” Stiles stated.  “You know, the word ‘sensational’ comes to mind.”
“Erica looked good before she became a bloodthirsty monster,” Scott insisted.  “And how good do you think she’s gonna look with a wolfsbane bullet in her head?”
“We won’t let that happen,” Stiles muttered, instinctually protective of his best friend despite how weird things were between them.  He started talking about Boyd again, and she partially tuned them out, focusing on her phone when she finally received instructions from Derek telling her to keep Stiles distracted.
Erica didn’t have a plan when she followed Stiles to Boyd’s house, but as he ran up the front steps and began knocking on the door, she quietly trailed after him, stopping just behind him.  She couldn’t help but laugh when he turned and jumped at the sight of her, her head shaking as she asked, “What are you doing here, Stiles?”
“Uh, nothing,” he lied.  “I was just looking for, um…”
“Boyd?” she finished for him, smirking.
“Yeah,” he nodded.  “Yes.  Boyd.”
Her smirk grew as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, watching as his eyes remained locked onto her own.  “You know what you’re doing right now that’s kind of funny?” she mused, laughing softly when he shook his head.  “You’re only looking in my eyes.”
“That’s funny?” he asked cautiously.
“Well, yeah,” she replied.  “Because it’s that kind of look where you’re trying not to look anywhere other than my eyes, but you want to, don’t you?”  Her tongue darted out across her lips, tempting him to look there instead, but his gaze was unwavering, even as she stepped into his space and lifted her fingers to play with the strings of his sweatshirt.  “You want a nice, long, hard… look.”  The tone of her voice as she said this had him closing his eyes, his hands settling on her sides as he breathed her name.  “Come on, Stiles.  Is it just my eyes?”
“You have beautiful eyes,” he told her, his own reopening to meet hers, silently pleading with her to put him out of this new misery he couldn’t understand.  He felt unstable, his mind battling with this new version of her and the version of her he had known for so long, and that instability had his hands flexing on her hips.
“I have beautiful everything,” she corrected, her hands reaching down to wrap around his wrists before pulling his hands off of her and taking a step back.
“And a newfound self-confidence,” he added, his hands clenching at his sides now that she was out of reach.  “Congratulations, Erica.  I should get going.”
“You’re not going anywhere, Batman,” she shook her head, putting her hand out against his chest when he tried to take a step forward.
“Why not?” he challenged.
“You lost your keys,” she answered, lifting the set of keys she had swiped from his pocket when she had stepped into his space.  She ripped the car key from the set and stowed it in the cleavage of her shirt, feeling the tiniest bit of satisfaction when his eyes followed her action and he swallowed dryly.  “If you stay out of this, I’ll drop it off at your place later.  Or let you reach down and grab it yourself,” she added, smirking when he glared at her.  “Catch you later.”  With that, Erica left him stranded with his Jeep and his remaining keys, texting an update to Derek before setting off to check on Boyd at the rink.  By the time she joined Derek and Isaac there, Scott was already trying to talk Boyd out of accepting the Bite.
“Whatever you want, there’s other ways to get it,” he told Boyd.
“I just wanna not eat lunch alone every day,” Boyd answered honestly.
“If you’re looking for friends, you can do a lot better than Derek,” Scott pointed out.
“That really hurts, Scott,” Derek stated after leading Erica and Isaac to a spot onto the ice behind him.  “I mean, if you’re going to review me, at least take a consensus,” he requested, gesturing to his betas.  “Erica, how’s life been for you since we met?”
“Hmm,” Erica considered it, playing with the ends of her hair thoughtfully.  “In a word… transformative.”  For the first time in Scott’s presence, she bared her fangs and let out a low and threatening growl.
“Isaac?” Derek prompted.
“Well, I’m a little bummed about being an orphan, but other than that, I’m great,” Isaac replied, Erica snorting a laugh.
“Okay, hold on,” Scott interrupted, seeing where this conversation was heading.  “This isn’t exactly a fair fight.”
“Then go home, Scott,” Derek challenged.
“I meant fair for them,” Scott shot back.
“Alright, enough,” Erica sighed, rolling her eyes at the huge male egos she had to deal with.  “You’re too late, okay?  We’re not going to fight you over something that’s already happened.”
“What?” Scott muttered, looking at her, then at Derek, before turning to look at Boyd in question.  “You already said yes?”
“I saw you go from a social no one to one of the most popular guys in school because of the Bite,” Boyd shrugged, lifting his shirt to show the mark still fresh on his side.  “I want to be like you,” he told Scott, lowering his shirt and following Derek and Isaac out of the rink.
“You might not have wanted the Bite, but that doesn’t mean others can’t want it,” Erica told him, shoving her hands into her jean pockets.  “I wanted it.  Boyd wanted it.  Isaac wanted it.  You don’t have to understand that, but you have to respect it.”
“You’ve all made a huge mistake,” Scott shook his head.  “I just hope you live long enough to be able to regret it.”  Erica inhaled sharply at that, clenching her teeth together before turning and following after her pack.
[text from: Jackson] I just lifted my truck.  And not like a little.  Like a solid two feet up.
[text from: Erica] Is that supposed to mean something to me?
[text from: Jackson] It means the Bite might have worked!  I’ve never done something like that before.
[text from: Erica] Do you want a parade?
[text from: Jackson] Fucking hell, Erica, will you just be happy for me?  The Bite might have worked after all.
[text from: Erica] Are going to join our pack?
[text from: Jackson] No, but I wanted to talk to Derek about why it’s taking so long for my abilities to show up.  He wasn’t at home, but I figured you’d know where he is.
[text from: Erica] Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.
[text from: Jackson] Because I won’t join your stupid pack?
[text from: Erica] Exactly.  Bye Jackson.
[text from: Jackson] Woah, what?  Just like that?  You’re not going to talk to me?
[text from: Jackson] Seriously, Erica, you’re just going to ignore me?
[text from: Jackson] This is fucked up, you know.
[text from: Jackson] And here I thought we were becoming friends.
[text from: Jackson] Whatever.  I’m better off without you anyways.
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meant-to-be-a-hero · 2 years
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Season One, Episode Twelve: Code Breaker
12 is a weird number for a season, isn't it? It's usually 8, 10 or 13.
Picking up right where we left off, just like Heart Monitor/Night School. We don't get as many of these direct two parters later on from what I remember. The only other one I can think of is the Eichen House break-in in Season 5.
Lydia has an easy finale I think? Mostly just laying around.
A PMS joke? That's how you know Peter's really evil.
Evil Mom is...well, evil.
"I got better" is certainly one justification for murdering your nurse.
This season is obviously sponsored by AT&T.
"His username is Allison. ...His password is also Allison? Comedic gold.
Keeping someone a prisoner in their own basement is a specific kind of mean.
Kate's just poisoning Allison's mind now.
If they hadn't wanted to keep Stiles as the Xander of the group, having him change his mind and become a wolf in a later season could have been fun, especially if they'd done it around the same time they introduced Liam.
Not the last time Derek will be tied up and electrocuted, either.
Derek not believing in love because of Kate's betrayal is a neat touch.
All the evidence really does come together quite well with regards to the whole Peter thing.
Stiles being able to stand up to Argent when both Scott and Jackson fell apart in front of him is very Stiles.
Yep, Kate would definitely shoot a teenager.
Isn't Peter tearing out Kate's throat what makes her a were-cheetah (somehow)?
Werewolf fiiiiight!
Setting Peter on fire again is some kind of poetic justice.
Oh look, Derek lied. What a surprise.
"I'm the Alpha now." Grr, argh.
"She's not a werewolf, so what the hell is she?" - stayed tuned for another 2 seasons, boys.
Jackson's got balls, asking Derek to bite him after all the shit he put them through.
Happy ending for Scott and Allison, at least for now.
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pappydaddy · 3 years
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Opposites (s.h.)
  A/N: This is for the request asking for a Steve x Reader where the reader was like Jade West from Victorious (also known as one of my bi awakenings). I am sorry for the delay, this Thanksgiving was crazy (I’m Canadian) and there was so much to do! I tried my best to write the reader like Jade without having her not vibe with the kids bc we all know that the kids come first with Steve. Now, without farther ado, here is the request! Hope you like it lovely Anon!!
Edit: I changed the name bc there are so many fics under the name Opposites Attract😅.
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
show/movie: stranger things 
requested
warnings: fluff??
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  Opposites attract. Something everyone has heard before. It can be applied to magnets or to relationships. While there was no denying that when it came to magnetic pulls, opposites did indeed attract, but Steve was never too sure about it in a relationship sense. He had always gone after girls who fit his lifestyle. Parties, the popular crowd, the girls who fit in to societies expectations. It wasn’t until he had met Y/N that he had realized that maybe everyone was right. Just like magnets, opposites attract did apply to relationships as well. He could not think Robin enough for introducing the hard headed, sometimes (all the time) scary girl who Steve would have never approached. A goofy guy such as Steve paired with the rocker chick who intimidated nearly everyone? Steve had never thought that would be possible outside of the movies. 
 Now, here Steve sat on Dustin’s couch as he bounced his knee, the party bickering all around him as they tried to figure out what they were going to do today. “Why would we watch movie’s all day, we always watch movies, Dustin!” Lucas exclaimed from where he sat on the floor next to Max. Dustin looked up from the pile of VHS tapes he had already selected before hand. 
  “Because movies are awesome and clearly the best option right now,” Dustin answered as if it was obvious. “Nobody can agree on one place, so the logical solution is to stay here and watch a movie.” He shrugged, shuffling through the tapes once again, ignoring Lucas’ groans of protest. Steve tuned them out the best he could as he watched the front door, willing for it to open revealing the two missing members of the party. 
  “Dustin has a point, Lucas.” Max piped up, not even looking up from watching the titles of the movies Dustin was debating on. 
  “Why,” Lucas asked simply, turning his head to face her in an exaggerated fashion. “Just why,” He repeated. “Why do you think it’s better to sit here and watch movies all day as opposed to going to a bowling alley?” 
  “I’d rather watch movies than go to a bowling alley, but we are clearly forgetting the best option brought up,” Mike inserted himself into the conversation again, banging his pointer finger against the coffee table before continuing. “The Arcade. There is a huge re-opening deal and a ton of new games!” 
  “We’re not going to the Arcade, it’ll be too crowded to have fun as a group!” Dustin turned Mike’s idea down once again. 
  “And sitting in a dark living room all day watching movies will be a fun group bonding experience?” Mike snapped back, sending the three boys into a tailspin of bickering. Steve and Max both heaved out sighs at the same time just as the front door opened, Robin walking in first followed by Y/N. The two girls ceased their previous conversation, blinking at the chaos ensuing. 
  “Finally, what took you two so long?” Steve leapt from his spot on the couch, rushing over to the pair, his eyes wide with relief. Instantly, he wrapped Y/N in a tight hug. The girl tensed for a second before melting into his hug, patting his back with one had. She wasn’t much for hugs, not being an overly affectionate person in general, but she couldn’t help but to lean a bit closer to Steve whenever he was affectionate towards her.           
  “Sorry, Stevie-boy,” Robin apologized half-heartedly, plopping herself down in the spot he once occupied. “Y/N got caught up trying to decide which Stephen King book to buy and then she saw the Stephen King display they had put up.” 
  “Ended up getting Cycle of the Werewolf, it came out a few years ago, but I was too wrapped up in the release of Cujo to focus on his book releases,” She told him, not even waiting for him to ask. She pulled out of his grasp, reaching into the bag she carried to hand him the book. Steve shivered slightly, not understanding how she could read or watch Stephen King’s books without getting the slightest bit scared. “But I couldn’t pass on the great deal they had on, they had Danse Macabre for half off so they could get make room for another shipment.” She pulled the second book out of the bag, walking passed Steve who read over the back of the book he held, eyeing the words as if they would jump off the page at him. 
  “That’s great, Y/N, but we need you and Robin to help us decide what to do for the rest of the day,” Dustin interrupted the girl, earning a glare from her (which he ignored). Y/N sat on the middle cushion beside Robin who dug through her own bag to retrieve her own book: Dark Companions. “Lucas wants to go to a bowling alley-”
  “I would rather stab my eyes with rusty scissors then go to a bowling alley.” Y/N cut him off, flicking through the pages of her new book. Dustin laughed in victory as Lucas gave Dustin a warning look in return. 
  “We didn’t get to hear what Robin thought.” Lucas pointed out, hoping that Robin would be his saving grace, but his hope was quickly shot down. 
  “I’m with Y/N,” She stated, looking up from her book. “I hate those places, they are a cesspool of germs. Kids pick their noses then use their booger covered fingers to pick up a ball.” She turned her nose up at the idea. Lucas slumped back in defeat, Max sending him a sympathetic smile despite her internal happiness that she didn’t have to go to the bowling alley. Steve hid his own excitement as he sat down on the other side of Y/N, slinging his arm over her shoulders as she began to read her book. 
  “How about the Arcade, huh? You guys can watch us play awesome games and not touch anything!” Mike brought up his idea, trying to sell the girls on it. Robin shook her head instantly. 
  “Arcades are my personal hell,” Y/N grumbled, flipping the page. “Kids running around screaming and the noises from the games. It’s nauseating.” She cringed at the thought of it. 
  “So that leaves watching movies here then.” Dustin smiled brightly, showing his still missing teeth. Mike and Lucas groaned, flopping back on the floor dramatically, missing the way Y/N’s face twisted into a scowl and Robin’s nose turned up once again. 
  “Sitting here all day watching movies?” Robin asked. 
  “I would rather stuff myself into a wood-chipper.” Y/N commented once again, her eyes never lifting off her page. This prompted Lucas and Mike to shoot back up, smiling widely at Dustin’s defeat. 
  “Hey, isn’t there that band stopping by to preform a little outdoor concert, super low-key and free?” Max finally brought up the idea she had been sitting on the whole time. She knew that Robin and Y/N would have backed her up, but the boys would have shot the idea down immediately. Y/N and Robin slowly lifted their heads, intrigued by Max’s idea. 
  “So? What band would be coming to Hawkins to play a free show? Are they even worth seeing?” Mike lifted his upper lip in a grimace as he got ready to shoot the idea down. 
  “Yes, they are,” Max narrowed her eyes at the boy. “It’s a relatively new rock band, kinda like Def Leppard meets Guns N’ Roses meets AC/DC. They are playing free shows in smaller towns to build a name for themselves, all their earnings come from their merch sales.” 
  “Now that,” Y/N finally closed her book, setting it on the coffee table as she uncrossed her legs. Leaning her elbows on her knees, she clasped her hands together and pointed her pointer fingers at Max, a smirk playing on her dark painted lips. “That sounds awesome.” She unclasped her hands to high-five Max, the red-head beyond happy that her idea was chosen.             
  “It does sound really cool,” Robin nodded, sharing a look with Y/N and Max. “I’m down.” 
  “You know what,” Steve finally spoke up, bobbing his head, a goofy smile on his face as his eyes gazed at Y/N as she leaned back under his arm, looking up at him. “I’m in too. I could use a good concert.” 
  “You’re just agreeing because your girlfriend wants to go!” Mike accused, earning two glares from Y/N and Steve. He shrunk back under Y/N’s hard glare.
  “Come on, guys,” Steve encouraged. “You guys could actually like their music, you might even find a new interest or meet some new people,” He tried to sell the reluctant teen boys. They hummed, actually listening to him. “There really isn’t any harm in going.” They nodded, muttering their lack-luster agreements in choosing the concert. 
  “Forget all that mushy, positive shit,” Y/N waved her hand at Steve’s sappy selling of the concert. “Just go and live outside of your comfort zone, taint your innocent, pure souls. You will thank me later, trust me.” 
  “Are you corrupting my kids?” Steve asked her as the boys all hollered ‘yeahs’ and hopped around the room as if they were tough. Max and Robin rolled their eyes at them, but Y/N looked back up at Steve, a sparkle in her eyes. 
  “Yeah, someone had to undo all the goofiness you instilled in them - make ‘em cooler.” He smiled down at her, pressing his lips against hers softly as the boy’s continued on. The roudiness melted away as they shared a loving kiss. As their lips pulled away reluctantly, parting the sweet kiss. Steve was never more sure that they were living proof of opposites attracting.         
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holyhellpod · 3 years
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Heyoooo, it’s another episode of Holy Hell! This one is dedicated to the manchild himself, Dean Winchester. 
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Transcript below!
CW: discussions of child abuse, child death, suicide, alcoholism, family trauma, mental health
[Music]
Dean Winchester is, in a word, my soulmate. I started kinning him when the show aired in Australia on Fox8 and I have not been the same since. From his devil-may-care attitude to his undying love for his family that pierces the veil of death to save the day, he really is the most. I have to say at the beginning that this episode of Holy Hell will not include discussions of Dean’s sexuality and gender. I’m saving that for its own episode, so stay tuned my pals.
What we know of Dean as he develops over the course of the first episode is: he’s been hunting, and hunting alone, he’s 26 years old, he drives a sweet ‘67 Impala, he wears an old leather jacket, he listens to 1980s metal, and he has an arsenal of weapons and supernatural fighting talismans in his trunk. He’s also a smartarse, one of his most endearing qualities. He gets defensive about their mother and her death, and he defends their father over and over. He’s a loyal son and brother. The impetus to bring Sam back into the hunting life, after Sam decided for good that he was going to leave, is to bring his fambily back together.
The quality that defines Dean Winchester is how much he loves he loves his fambily. In the first episode, he is so worried about his father that he recruits Sam to help look for him, even though Sam and Dean haven’t spoken in two years, and Sam ran away to college rather than continue to live with their father.  He spends most of the first season defending their father, but when John comes back and starts arguing with Sam, Dean protects his brother from John. It’s one of the most significant examples of character growth Dean undergoes throughout the entire series, and it’s where his loyalty shifts from John to Sam.
In the episode of season 2, “Croatoan,” Dean decides not to shoot Sam when Sam contracts the Croatoan virus which turns people rabid and makes them kill. In the next episode, “Hunted”, Dean reveals that John told him to kill Sam if Dean couldn’t save him. But Dean doesn’t. He says that John begged Dean not to tell Sam, but it’s not John’s words that keep Dean silent. It’s his love for Sam and Sam’s wellbeing. And this brotherly love slash codependency is used by characters throughout the entire series, from the demons in season 1 to the literal character of God in season 15, to manipulate Dean and Sam. As many characters have pointed out, including Dean and Sam themselves, they are each other’s weak points.  
At the end of season two, when Sam dies from a stab wound in his spine, Dean trades his own life for Sam’s. He makes a deal with a crossroads demon—his soul for Sam’s life—and subsequently dies and goes to hell at the end of season 3. Dean literally dies a gruesome death and spends forty years being tortured in hell because he couldn’t live without Sam. At the end of Season 8, Sam is dying from the effects of the trials, which he undergoes in order to close the gates of hell, and Dean convinces him to stop because, again, he can’t live without Sam. Sidenote: this is where I stopped being interested in their brotherly dynamic to the point of losing interest in the show. It became clear to me that the showrunners were more concerned with rehashing the same tired storylines between Sam and Dean than focus on characters who could expand the world and make the show better. In fact, they killed a lot of the interesting side characters in order to keep the show solely focused on the brothers. The exception to this is Castiel, and the reason they kept Cas around is because when he died in season 7 the ratings tanked. If that wasn’t a clear enough sign that the showrunners needed to open up the show to more than just Sam and Dean’s caustic dynamic in which they die and kill for and then betray and lie to each other over and over, then I just don’t know what the fans could have done to convince them. Nothing, apparently, because they ended the show with just Sam and Dean.
Dean’s relationship with John is fraught with insecurity and codependency. Dean has so little sense of self that what he does consider to be his carefully curated list of likes and dislikes were inherited directly from John: his car, his leather jacket, his hunting abilities, and his music taste. He also throws himself into hunts without any regard for his own safety, because he doesn’t believe that he is worth saving, or that his life is worth living. His personality is crafted from both John’s reliance on him as a son, hunter and partner in crime, and the woman he assumes Mary to be. Dean’s sense of self-worth relies on how many people he can save. This is why, in season 2 episode “What is and what should never be,” Dean’s dream reality is one in which he’s a low life loser who disappoints his family—because without John pushing him to be a hunter, Dean doesn’t save people, and because he doesn’t save people, he isn’t worth anything. Bear in mind that this is the best reality Dean’s mind could conjure for him: one in which his father is dead, and he himself is not worth saving.
In one of the most famous exchanges, he asks Cas why an angel would rescue him from hell, and Cas replies, “What’s the matter? You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” Twenty-nine years of bluster, insouciance, and a give-em-hell attitude crumbles in two sentences, wrought by a being Dean refuses to believe exists because, again, he doesn’t think that he deserves to be saved by them. He says, “[Why me? I don’t like getting singled out at birthday parties, let alone by God].” He thinks of himself so lowly that he accepted a one-year deal in exchange for Sam being alive. Dean cares so much about his family he lets it kill him.
But it’s not just Sam, Mary and John. Dean’s family grows to encompass a number of side characters: most notably Bobby their surrogate father, Charlie Bradbury the hacker, Claire Novak, Jack Kline, and Lisa and Ben Braeden. Even Mary makes another appearance in seasons 12 to 14. Unfortunately, because the show is the way it is, Dean puts Sam above all of these side characters, and then these characters are written out of the show. I should specify that Cas is not a side character; in most seasons, Misha Collins is billed as a main cast member, with his name appearing after Jensen Ackles in the credits. But he still dies in the third-last episode in order to have the show stay about the brothers. Even Jack, inarguably Cas and Dean’s son, is written out of the show in the second-last episode after dying multiple times. I say inarguably because I am not gonna argue with anyone about this. Claire and Jack are Dean and Cas’s kids. Dean and Cas are great parents who chaperone Jack’s prom and buy Claire her first hunting bow. They’re all one big happy, queer, neurodivergent family.
Dean loves the people in his life with reckless abandon. The times he’s excused Cas’s behaviour after Cas has done something ridiculous or foolish are too many to count. He grieves Cas’s multiple deaths, often succumbing to his alcoholism and entropy whenever Cas leaves him for more than a day. In a truly beautiful scene, Dean wraps Cas’s corpse in a curtain and watches, utterly and completely devastated, as his body burns. By this point, they have done so much for each other that it’s impossible to even envision the show without Cas, and indeed imagine Dean without his love for Cas. And we don’t have to for very long, as he always comes back a few episodes later. Even knowing this, the episodes where Dean mourns Cas are so heartbreaking and haunting that I cried for days after watching them.
Dean is great with kids, and every time he’s not is completely the fault of whoever is writing him in any given episode. We see him bonding with Lisa’s son Ben in season 3 and 6, Jesse in the season 5 episode “I Believe The Children Are Our Future,” and Lucas in the season one episode “Dead in the water”. With every child he meets, Dean gets on their level, empathising with them in a way most adults can’t. Like Claire and Jack, Dean has a complicated relationship with his father, who dies in the beginning of season 2 after bargaining his soul for Dean’s life to the demon that took their mother. Just like anyone else’s life, right? Must be Tuesday. This means Dean can relate to most children with traumatic backgrounds involving their parents, as a victim of parental abuse and having his mother die at age 4. I can’t find any sources to back this up, but a theory that rolled around in fandom was that Dean became mute after Mary died, which is what happens to Lucas after his father drowns. He says in “Dead In the Water” that he loves kids, and it’s true. As one tumblr user put it, Dean wanted to be baby trapped.
Dean carries the deaths and pain of his loved ones with him like Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders. When Claire is bitten by a werewolf, the characters administer blood of the sire wolf that bit her in order to cure her of her lycanthropy. Dean has to leave the room while she’s in pain, because he can’t bear to watch her die. The same goes for when Jack dies. Thankfully, Claire lives and Jack comes back a few episodes later.
When thinking about Dean being a father, I’m reminded of that scene from Scrubs when Dr Cox says he’s worried about being a father because his own dad was an abusive alcoholic. The difference between Dr Cox and Dean is that Dean doesn’t have his reservations about raising kids. He fits into Lisa and Ben’s life easily, at least for the first year, and we see a montage which includes him teaching Ben how to fix cars. When Claire lets her guard down enough to hug Dean, he hugs back just as hard. When he finally deals with the trauma of Cas dying in season 13, he accepts Jack into his life, and even grieves Jack when he dies. Dean escapes the intergenerational trauma that plagues his family by being a fantastic dad to the random kids who happen into his life by chance. He was born to be a father, and the fact that this show took that away from him and us as the audience makes me want to kick the showrunners into the sun.
Until season 6, Dean’s family only included men. The concept of the nuclear family—two sons, a husband and a wife—was ripped apart in the prologue of the first episode when Mary dies. Dean doesn’t know family for the first 5 seasons of the show outside Sam, John, Cas and Bobby. I do consider Ellen and Jo to be important to the story, but they’re only in a handful of episodes and die in season 5 for a reason that is plainly ridiculous. Did the Winchesters have to lose every single person in their lives to the fight? Clearly Kripke thought they were going to be cancelled after the fifth season, because it shows. And honestly? Maybe they should have. Let’s retroactively cancel the whole show. It can’t hold power over us anymore, because it’s dead and we cremated it.
But when Dean moves in with Lisa and Ben, he discovers a new type of family he didn’t have before, and new family dynamics. Instead of the 28-year-old son that Sam is to him, he takes the opportunity to teach Ben about cars and spend time with him and Lisa without the need to hunt. He gets a job, he makes some friends, and he lives the safe, apple pie life he begrudged Sam for in the pilot episode. It’s only when Sam reappears in his life that Dean’s codependency strikes again and he realises that he can’t live half in the normal world with Lisa and Ben and half in the hunting world with Sam. Sam says this himself in the first episode of Season 6, “Exile On Main Street”. Despite the ways Dean tried to settle down throughout the rest of the 9 seasons, the showrunners ultimately decided a man who was healing from trauma and alcoholism, who had adopted two kids as his own, and was learning how to bake cakes for his son’s birthday, deserved to die at the ripe age of 40, a week or so after he’d learned that his best friend was in love with him. You gotta laugh. Instead of getting the ending both Dean and we deserved—which was Dean settling down, opening a bar, and living the next forty years in relative gay peace while he got fat and watched Cheers reruns—well, we got something else. And I will always be bitter about that.
While it’s clear from the first season that he has reckless and suicidal tendencies, he doesn’t stop fighting to the bitter end. Even when faced with his own impending death in the season 2 premiere, “In my time of dying,” he fights to stay alive for Sam and John, while working the mystery that is overcoming his own death. Devastated as he is by Sam diving into hell at the end of season 5 and seemingly gone for good, Dean still gets up everyday and makes a life for himself in Lisa’s home. While season 6 was overall a bummer of a season, just god-awful in every aspect, saved from my complete vitriol only by “The French Mistake,” it did show us how great a dad Dean can be, and readied us for what was to come—being Claire and Jack’s dad. The lengths he goes to for his family are immense and all-consuming. As Cas says in “Despair”, Dean is a being of love. He loves everyone else, even when he can’t find it in him to love himself. He really thinks that he’s just a killer, not a father or a husband.
I’ve never subscribed to the idea that we have to love ourselves before we can love anyone else, or before anyone else can love us. Sorry Rupaul, you old bitch. We are all deserving of love, because love sustains us and helps us grow. And when we don’t know how to, it’s through loving others that we can learn to love ourselves. If Dean knew what a great father and friend and husband and brother he is, if he could see himself the way others, in the show and out of it, see him, I think he’d burst. You don’t like getting singled out at birthday parties? Well tough shit, Dean Winchester, because I’m gonna devote an entire podcast to you.
I talked about Dean’s carefully curated list of likes and dislikes before but I’ll go into more detail now. Things he likes: guns; rock and roll; nice cars; women; fighting; scamming people at pool; back alley blowjobs, probably; pie; driving across the country; Ozzy concerts; cowboy movies; being in control of every little thing in his life. His dislikes are: flying on planes; hair metal; angels and demons; anyone who harms his brother, his best friend or his kids; boredom; and being jerked around.
Okay I literally cannot talk about the cowboy movies without mentioning that he makes Cas watch them with him, in his Deancave, and the implications of that make my head roll off my body and into the dirt. Like they literally have gay little movie nights and watch their gay little cowboy movies together and Dean says all the gay little lines. I said I wasn’t going to talk about his sexuality, but mentioning cowboy movies leads to Cas wearing a cowboy hat and saying “I’m your Huckleberry.” This makes me insane. Excuse me, I must have my daily scream.
Okay, I’ve collected myself. Have I? Let’s just move on. In the Winchester tradition of inherited family trauma, Dean gets all of John’s interests, and Sam gets all of John’s mistakes. Dean’s personality throughout the show is basically quippy remarks, pop culture references, laughing with food in his mouth, and grouchiness. In case you haven’t realised, he is amazing to me. Every time he fires a rifle or pistol? Couldn’t be better. Eating a burger made of out donuts? Fucking incredible. Even when faced with beings with untold power, he doesn’t lose his cool. One of my favourite exchanges is when Zachariah comes to Chuck’s house in the first episode of season 5, “Sympathy For The Devil,” and starts soliloquising at him, Dean tells him to “cram it with walnuts, ugly.” Cram it with walnuts, ugly. It’s been ten years and that still makes me laugh. Top ten Dean lines for sure. Like all of my main characters throughout the years of writing original fiction are just “Dean Winchester but girl,” and I’m a good writer, but I can never come close to the level of hilarity that he achieves. And every single writer on the show seems to get that. The only times I can think of where Dean’s characterisation has irked me on a writing level are in season 6—basically the entire thing—and the way he treats Jack in the later seasons, specifically late season 15. But it’s really rare for me to watch an episode and not enjoy Dean. Even throughout the Mark Of Cain era, which I loved, when things were very serious, he had such style and panache and held himself so confidently that I was like, wait maybe he made some points? Maybe he should kill everyone?
Dean is a hunter and a killer, but that’s not all he is. He’s very skilled in hand to hand combat, weaponry, and tactical manoeuvres. Even when something doesn’t go exactly to plan, he’s usually able to improvise something to end up with a win. Because he is the main character, his choices and reactions, while sometimes extremely problematic, are never questioned, and that’s to his detriment. In the last episode of season 14, “Moriah,” Dean is unable to kill Jack, but in early season 15, he treats Jack’s betrayal as Cas’s fault, because he can’t take it out on Jack. Cas leaves, but it’s framed as a good thing because Cas is Jack’s father, and has to take responsibility for what Jack has done. In this instance, I don’t blame Cas at all. Okay I rarely blame Cas for anything, including the things he’s done wrong, because no he didn’t and you can’t prove it. But he especially didn’t do anything wrong when Jack killed Mary, and he didn’t do anything wrong by killing Belphagor. But by the middle of the season, in the episode “The Trap,” Dean admits his wrongdoing in taking his anger out on Cas, one of the only people who loves him without conditions. You’d think this would be a defining moment of character progression, but then Dean chooses to act exactly the same way by throwing Jack under the bus. Like, throwing him harder, under a bigger bus. So what was the point.
Anyway, those are choices the writers made, and not Dean.
Going back to what I was saying about being neurodivergent, Dean has adhd. I know this because I have adhd, and I’m Dean-coded. He’s wildly creative, impulsive, has a touch of OCD, and he has a hard time making long-lasting friends, although this is mostly due to how all his friends die. His best friend is an autistic angel and the only reason they’re still friends is because they’re obsessed with each other, in like a really unhealthy way. One of the funny things about his and Cas’s relationship is that every time you see them in the same shot, Cas is standing perfectly still and Dean is constantly moving. They are almost complete opposites, aside from their queerness and neurodivergence. But then, I haven’t met a single queer person in my entire life who isn’t neurodivergent or disabled in some way. That doesn’t mean we can’t live perfectly functional and normal lives, it just means we’re better than everyone else.  
Dean also exhibits black and white thinking—to him all felons are redeemable and all monsters should be killed. Felons are redeemable because he himself is a felon, and monsters should be killed because they all do monstrous things. When faced with the possibility of angels being real, he refuses to believe it for the first two episodes, because, as he says, “he’s never seen one.” Eventually he learns how to see in shades of grey and not kill every monster he meets, but this is because of his time in purgatory with Benny, his Cajun vampire boyfriend.
Another sign of Dean’s ADHD is physical sensitivity. In the season one episode “Bugs,” he comments on the shower’s water pressure. Like it’s a big deal to him, when he’s only ever used 1-star motel room showers. In the later seasons, he’s also seen to wear a fluffy robe and soft pajamas with hotdogs on them and socks that say “Send Noods” but noods spelt like noodles. And so he should! Dean deserves comfort! He’s a special boy.
ADHDers often have problems with executive function—remembering appointments, cleaning up after ourselves, showering, eating, even going to the toilet when we need to pee. The hunting life excludes Dean from the normal functions of usual life, such as dentist appointments, dropping the kids off at school, meal prepping for the week, or turning up to a job on time. These were only factors in Dean’s life during the gap between seasons 5 and 6 when he lived with Lisa and Ben, and it’s not shown how his executive dysfunction impacted his suburban, settled life, but Lisa does mention that Dean drinks a lot. It’s another thing he inherited from John, much as I did my alcoholism from my father, and my adhd too. But Sam doesn’t drink to excess more than a handful of times over the entire 15 seasons, whereas Dean subsists on alcohol to get through the day. At one point in season 11, I’m pretty sure, don’t fact check me, he is shown to be drinking a beer at about 10 in the morning, because, as he says to Sam, “You drank all the coffee. What do you want me to do? Drink water?” Dean your liver must be quaking.
Excess is a common problem for people with ADHD. We have problems with limiting ourselves—because our dopamine machine broke, anything that gives us a little bit of high—such as sugar, sex, alcohol, stimulants, any kind of food that is bad for us but tastes real good—we usually have it in excess because we can’t help ourselves. In the season 4 episode “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester,” Dean eats the entirety of the candy in the Impala. The only reasons I don’t eat everything in my fridge every day is because, one, I don’t have the money, and two, it’s all ingredients I have to prepare and not ready-made food. Whereas Dean has only known fast food for the first 10 or so seasons until he starts cooking and baking and settling into domesticity. Like anyone who gets UberEats every day instead of cooking for themselves knows how expensive that is. He also engages in meaningless sex, although people have pointed that Sam actually gets more on screen action than Dean. But I know a lot of amab people who engage in casual sex with randos because it satisfies a base need. Dean could be classified as hypersexual in some regards, but I know what hypersexuality feels like and it’s like this overwhelming miasma where you can’t think about anything except how horny you are, and I don’t think Dean has that normally. Maybe when he was a demon in season 10, but generally I think he can control himself.
His settled life in the men of letters Bunker is a far cry from his flashbacks in season 8 to Purgatory. From what we know of purgatory, the land of gods and monsters, it was a year-long monster hunt, but without any of the boring paperwork. Dean got to fight and kill as many vampires, ghouls, leviathan, etc as came his way, which is why it’s absolutely ridiculous that he died by rebar in a vampire fight. He spent an entire year spilling blood and chopping off heads, day and night, and he dies by metal bar to the spine? And he’s not even coughing up blood? Andrew Dabb, I’m coming for you. Of course purgatory is the perfect place for Dean because it’s constant adrenaline, constant excitement, constant stimulation, which is what every day life lacks. Even Dean’s every day life is like, 20% monster killing and the rest is leg work. They go weeks or months between cases, and sometimes don’t find the monster at all. So I’m not surprised he gets bored easily and drinks. Would if I could too, my pal.
Which leads me onto Dwelling. Dean dwells on the horrors of his life in a way I do and my carefree older brothers don’t. In the season 4 episode “Heaven and Hell,” he reveals to Sam that he remembers his entire forty years in hell, and there are flashes of his memory littered throughout the season in creepy, split-second increments. He dwells on the people who die, doing his thousand-yard stare into the funeral pyre of everyone they cremate. In the most egregious display of dwelling, he rewrites history TWICE to deal with his grief — in season 8 he makes himself believe that it was his fault Cas didn’t come back from purgatory with him, and again in season 13 he invents the story of Jack controlling Cas to deal with his grief over Cas’s death. His PTSD twists the truth until it becomes another way to torture himself, because if someone gets hurt it’s on him; everyone who loves him is just one more person to disappoint.
On a lighter note, Hyperfixations, equivalent to Autism special interests, are a common trait of ADHD. Some of Dean’s hyperfixations include: hunting in general; cowboys and cowboy movies; the musical Rent; the movie Braveheart; larping. He loves dressing up and acting, and what is putting on a monkey suit and lying about being a Fed if not larping? Oh god the meta of that coupled with the season 4 episode “The Monster At The End Of This Book” is making my head hurt. And actually, the next episode of Holy Hell is on the subject of meta-textuality so stick around if that’s something you enjoy.
One of the amazing things about ADHD is creativity. Since we’re easily bored and easily amused, we’re constantly pushing the boundaries of our curiosity. In season three episode “Bloodlust,” Dean decapitates a vampire with a miter saw, something that even veteran vampire hunter Gordon Walker comments is a thing of beauty. Dean creates a Ma’lak box in season 14 episode “Damaged Goods” as a way to contain Michael if he ever inhabits Dean’s body again. Dean is always making up words like “were-pire” and “Jefferson Starships,” and he has an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of pop culture, which he references in almost every line of dialogue. Like tv and movies raised me, but even I don’t understand a lot of his references. It’s almost like he’s a character in a tv show being written by dozens of people. But that’s not right. He’s a real person and my friend. My friend Dean Winchester, who shouts me burgers and passes out on my couch.
Also, I’m bragging now but as of the day of writing this I got my ADHD diagnosis and it feels so good to have a doctor, a psychiatrist in fact, confirm my belief. After about three or four years of figuring out I have adhd and then trying to make everyone else believe me when I say I do, it feels like a huge weight off. Dean deserved to feel that. He deserves to put a name to his differences and be in charge of his life instead of letting his anger, confusion and impulses control him. If anyone is worried that you might have something and don’t know whether to pursue a diagnosis, my two cents are that it has only improved my life. I was diagnosed with Bipolar Affective Disorder in 2014 and it allowed me to go on medication, which snapped me out of the worst period of anxiety I have ever gone through and also a psychotic episode that featured talking walls and a swarm of Christmas beetles. Trust me, we all need help sometimes, and some people like me need more help than others, but you can take control of the forces in your life that hold you back. As my mother used to say to me when I was a child, the world is your oyster. It really fucking does get better, and since I started on the right anti-depressants for me my life has improved so goddamn much. The world is fucked right now, and it’s impossible to even function on most levels. We all need therapy. I myself have a gp, a psychiatrist, and a psychologist and they keep me relatively sane. I would not be alive if I didn’t have years and years of ongoing therapy and good drugs. Plus I journal everyday and practice gratitude. I’m still crazy but the craziness is contained and doesn’t hurt me anymore.
Despite never going to therapy, Dean grows from being a loner with one friend (his own brother) to someone with a wealth of connections and family. He picks up new people to love like he’s velcro, and when he goes in he goes all in. He would die for the people he loves. He’s constantly putting himself in danger to protect his loved ones. In the Season 6 episode “Let It Bleed,” Dean captures and tortures demons in an effort to find out where Crowley took Lisa and Ben. He then has Cas wipe their memories so that they don’t remember him and can live their lives without him, at his own great distress. In season 5, he goes to Stull Cemetery to impinge on the fight between Lucifer and Michael, just to be there for Sam. As Dean says, he’s “not going to let him die alone.”
That being said, I do have to talk about Dean’s very few, but ultimately life-ruining, flaws. His emotional dysregulation makes his moods unpredictable at best. By virtue of his black and white thinking, he forces the people he loves to choose sides between him and other characters, such as Sam and Ruby, Cas and Crowley, Mary and the british men of letters, and Cas and Jack, and when they don’t choose him, he passively aggressively, and sometimes just aggressively, tortures them until something else usurps their betrayal. His anger issues are par to none, and often get him in a lot of trouble. But since he is the main character, he never really faces consequences for this, and neither does he mature. Even in the final season episode “The Trap,” while Dean admits how angry he is and how wrong he was for taking it out on Cas when Jack died, mere episodes later in “Unity” he turns Jack into a nuclear reactor to take out God, and Jack dies again. His characterisation in the last few seasons, especially in regards to Jack, is all over the place. I would have to start a murderboard to explain how Dean feels about Jack and how he reacts to what Jack does in every episode. Like, pictures and red string and everything. And even then I would not be able to comprehend exactly what the writers did and what they thought they were doing.
But unlike me, Dean always believes the best in people until proven otherwise, and he does always come around to the people who atone for their sins. Even when Sam refuses to get his soul back in season 6, Dean keeps trying until Sam is put right. Between seasons 7 and 8, He spends a year in Purgatory looking for Cas despite how Cas sent Sam insane, ingested billions of monster souls, and became God. When the people he loves choose him, he chooses them back.
But even when they betray him, lie to him, deceive him, and hurt the other people in his life, he can’t stop loving them. He never stops loving Sam or Cas or Jack or Mary or John or Bobby. He loves with everything he has. He is, as Cas says, a being of love.
Oof. That was a lot of words and I feel like I only just scratched the surface. Like realistically I just talked about fambily and ADHD. There is just so much to Dean Winchester that maybe I’ll make another episode sometime. But I am definitely making an episode purely about Dean’s gender presentation and sexuality in the future. You can find the show at holyhellpod on Tumblr where I post transcripts for the episodes and Instagram where I post memes.
I don’t see myself doing an episode about Sam any time soon, Not because I don’t like Sam, but because I can’t stand Jared Padalecki. He’s done some things that I can’t support, and I’m really bad at separating the art from the artist. Especially when it’s something like Supernatural, which is not art. Supernatural is an experiment. It’s not Johnny B. Goode by Chuck Berry. Like Jared Padalecki didn’t invent rock and roll, you know what I’m saying? However, if you really want me to do an episode about Sam, you can pay me 101 Australian dollars and 50 Australian cents at patreon.com/holyhellpod. I’ll talk to you next time.
Links
http://www.scififantasynetwork.com/dean-winchester-has-adhd/
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one-boring-person · 3 years
Text
Only Traitors Consort With The Damned (Part Nine)
The Lost Boys x reader
Warnings: violence, blood imagery
Context: The first of the SRS has arrived, but thankfully not in large numbers.
A/N: hopefully I'll have a more Halloween-esque part to this out next weekend, so stay tuned for that!😁💛
Masterlist
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A shiver runs through my body as I move silently through the back streets of Santa Carla, my hand resting on the gun holstered at my hip, gloved fingers tapping lightly on the deadly weapon as if in anticipation, my muscles taut and ready to spring into action. Unsurprisingly, a cool wind is blowing through town, the late October chill easily seeping into my new, stolen black denim jacket, the new outfit the boys found for me acting as a suitable disguise, seeing as the SRS uniform from before is a little too conspicuous, though the chains rattling quietly by my thigh are a little distracting, and the studs adorning the variety of clothes are a little superfluous, but it does it's part well enough. Thankfully, I got to keep my boots, so at least I'm not getting blisters from any new ones.
Biting my lip, I turn down yet another deserted alley, quickly scanning it for danger, noting the lack of people instantly, though there are a few cars and bins sitting by the surrounding walls here and there, each of them providing sufficient cover for a person, or multiple persons. Slowly, I edge forwards, watching the surroundings for any movement, aware that there could be danger at any moment, my heart pounding as I clock the lack of sound in the area, suddenly aware of the fact that there are no working streetlamps on this particular strip of alley, leaving it completely cloaked in darkness. Uneasy, I stop still, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Very carefully, I take off my gloves, placing them in my pocket as I listen closely to the eerie silence, watching the dark space in front of me, hoping to catch anything, should it come closer.
My head snaps round in the direction of a muted footstep, my fingers wrapping around the stock of the gun, pulling it from its holster and smoothly cocking it, flicking off the safety as I turn towards the noise. Mechanically, I lift the weapon a little higher, calming my racing heart before I step over towards the car the noise came from, holding my breath as I try to make out any shapes in the suffocating blackness, finding it nigh-on impossible to do so.
As I approach the car, I lift the gun higher still, edging around the seemingly abandoned vehicle, keeping my eyes trained on the space in front of me, my training kicking in as a dull calm spreads through me, keeping me from moving erratically, everything around me filtering out as I round the bonnet of the car.
A sudden blow to my upper back throws me forwards into the wall ahead of me, the air leaving my lungs as I collide with it painfully, tears springing to my eyes as my nose makes contact, the gun falling from my hands. Recovering quickly, I duck down before the second punch can come, a stifled yelp of surprise escaping my attacker as their fist connects with the hard surface, their knuckles most likely cracking from the force, causing them to reel back a little, leaving me time to spin around and jump back upright again. Without pausing, I swing my fist round into their exposed ribs, feeling the bones give slightly under the impact, my other hand coming round to land a hard blow to their descending face, their body whipping to the side in response. I move closer, intending to grab them, only for them to suddenly lunge forwards and shove me up against the wall, fists pummeling my sides, low grunts of pain leaving my lips as I grab their shoulders, but to no avail.
After a particularly well-aimed punch to the centre of my collarbones, I have to suck in a sharp breath of air, wincing as pain explodes through my chest, rendering me momentarily incapable of retaliating, giving my attacker the perfect opportunity to grab my hair and throw me away from the wall, my body violently crashing into the car bonnet as they drop me there, pain quickly spreading through me as I make contact. Under my weight, the windscreen cracks and shatters, shards of glass digging into my back as I skid over them, my attacker advancing on me with a newfound confidence, my eyes swiftly spotting the knife in their hand. Ignoring the blood pouring from my nose and mouth, I quickly roll to the side to avoid a sudden downwards thrust of the blade, dropping off of the car and onto the floor, going to get up, only to be stopped by a hand grasping my hair again, yanking my head back and pressing the knife to my throat. Eyes going wide, I take hold of their arm and press against it, feeling the icy sting of the blade just cutting into my skin, panic starting to well up in my body as I fight against their strength, only to find them slowly overpowering me.
With one last push, I drive an elbow backwards, catching them in the knee with enough force to make them buckle a little, giving me the chance to duck out of their grip and throw them onto their back on the floor, swiftly pinning then down as I grab my own knife from my pocket, wincing as they manage to use their's to leave a long gash down one of my arms. Putting my knife to their throat, I press down until they stop struggling, the two of us breathing very heavily as we calm ourselves, both waiting for the next move.
When nothing happens, I go to lean back slightly, only for my captive to suddenly write underneath me, kicking me backwards a little so that I have to stretch out my arms to keep myself upright. In doing so, however, I manage to lodge my knife in their thigh, a scream of agony tearing itself from their lips at their self-inflicted wound, blood starting to ooze out from around the base of the weapon, colourful curses and swears aimed at me accompanying the whines and whimpers of pain that follow. Climbing off of them, I swiftly grab their wrists and use the rope at my belt to tie them together, ignoring their pleas and begging, the voice now distinctly male as they try to appeal to my better nature, seemingly forgetting that they just tried to kill me.
I don't look at their face, turning to their newly sustained wound, thinking things over, before making a split decision. Pulling another rope from my belt, I tie it around the top of his thigh, pulling it tight to stop the bleeding, choosing to leave the weapon in place as I work, eventually telling him to shut up as he continues to ramble on.
*
"Who the hell is that and why the fuck is he here?!" David growls at me as I eventually manage to drag the Scout into the cave, a trail of dirt mapping out the path I used as I manoeuvre my way around the messy interior.
"This," I start, dropping the man's legs as I find a better source of light, "Is a Scout, someone sent to find me before the rest of the Clean-up Team arrives. He's here because we're taking him hostage."
Kneeling down beside the now-unconscious man, I turn my attention to the knife protruding from his leg, quickly deciding how to go about this. Taking hold of the Scout's knife, I carefully cut away the fabric of his trousers around the wound, gently testing how tightly the knife is wedged into the muscle, before dropping the weapon in my hand and grabbing a piece of nearby cloth.
"A hostage? Why are you taking a hostage?" David continues to interrogate me, scowling at me as I yank the knife from the wound and use the fabric to staunch the flow of blood that rushes out.
"So that I have some leverage over them when they come for me, though I'm not too sure how well they'll react to this." I muse out loud, only now realising that the platinum blonde vampire across from me is having a hard time controlling himself, "Sorry, I forgot that this would be difficult for you guys."
A small part of me is glad that David is the one who volunteered to stay behind tonight to keep watch with me, given that he seems to have the most self control (apart from Dwayne) when it comes to blood; if it was Paul, the Scout would be dead by now.
David just huffs, sitting in his wheelchair sullenly as he waits for me to finish, blue eyes watching me as I examine the wound.
"Hey, do you think you could get the med-kit from my rucksack, please? I need to stitch this or he'll bleed out." I ask him quietly, hoping he'll agree.
The vampire rolls his eyes, but stands and gets the kit anyway, handing it to me with a grunt. Thanking him, I take out a needle and thread, sterilizing them both as I prepare them for use, removing the makeshift bandage from the wound and leaning in to start sewing the edges shut.
"Where did you learn to do that?" David asks suddenly, breaking the silence.
"This? I learnt on the job, a few years ago. Some werewolf caught me with its claws when I got too close. I had to stitch myself up, so I learned from the experience." I explain dismissively, remembering the incident well.
"A werewolf?" The vampire questions, seemingly confused, "Where was that?"
"Somehwere in Texas, I think. I don't really remember the specifics. Why?"
"Oh, I wasn't aware that there were still werewolves in this country."
"Really?! You can't possibly think you're the only supernatural beings left in the U.S?" I ask, incredulous.
"I've been stuck in Santa Carla for as long as I can remember, so I wouldn't know." He chuckles in response, "What're you gonna do with him when he wakes up?"
I shrug.
"Talk to him, interrogate him. I just need to know how close the SRS are to finding me."
"How close do you think they are?" David queries quietly.
I sigh to myself, sitting back on my heels as I finish the job.
"Honestly, I'd rather not think about it."
Part Ten
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grantcontrol · 3 years
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Swarm Keeper ◈ solo
Timing: Sunday Afternoon (March 28, 2021) Location: The Silver Bullet >>> some cabin in the woods Summary: White Crest’s resident exterminator, Anton Grant of Bug Busters Pest Control Solutions, is having a drink at The Silver Bullet when he gets a call regarding a job at a cabin in the woods. When he gets there, however, he finds out that it's not just a regular pest problem. Fortunately, he has a jar of peanut butter in the van. Don’t ask. Content: Insect references, terrible pop culture references, rambling 
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“Freaking children, am I right?” Anton Grant groaned before taking a swig of his drink. It’s only been a couple of weeks since he first arrived in White Crest, taking over his late grandfather’s pest control business and making sure the old man’s affairs were in order, and yet, the exterminator’s already a regular at The Silver Bullet, sharing drinks with fellow hunters both old and new, mostly old. He turned to the older hunter beside him, chuckling, “That’s why I’m never having kids, man. I’ve got a business and my grandpa’s old dog. That’s all I’ll ever need.”
The move was also surprisingly easier than he expected it to be. Of course it helped that Anton didn’t have that many possessions to bring into this new life of his, more out of financial restraints than choice, so he didn’t have that many problems transitioning. Still, even as the familiar tunes of ABBA played throughout the establishment from the jukebox in the corner, he just couldn’t take the time to relish in the peace, choosing instead to make a big deal out of nothing. 
“What I don’t need, though, is the disrespect of this place.” He turned to the wall near the back, lined with the mounted heads of slain supernatural creatures, a host of hunter trophies. “You’ve got all these great catches, yeah, sure, but where did they place my catch, my trophy? Near the toilet! Of all places, man! The audacity!” 
“Well, to be fair, it was just a damn mandible. Not even a full one. Just a piece.” The old hunter laughed, shaking his head, as he downed his own glass. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Grant. Did you know that the last owner of this fine establishment, we only knew him as Sarge? Some 64-year-old bastard with a peg leg because a giant-ass werewolf mistook it for a drumstick? Just chomped that leg off like it was Thanksgiving.”
As the older man continued to ramble on about Sarge and his werewolf rival, throwing in a few complaints about younger folk being too whiney and less active, Anton couldn’t help but be a little skeptical. It wasn’t just about Sarge being real or not, too. From the sounds of things, that werewolf was too big to be real as well. Then again, what does Anton know? He’s an exterminator, a pest hunter, not a dog catcher.
Fortunately for him, his phone rang just in time, saving him from the old man’s rambling. Not that the old man noticed, as he just continued sharing more stories about the good old days. At that, Anton simply shrugged and took the call, dark brown eyes on the chatty old hunter as the voice on the other line gave him an address. “You’ve got a job, old man. Said they’ll wait at their cabin for you but they’ve already made arrangements for another place to stay while you do your thing. You good for it, right?” Good for it? Of course Anton’s good for it. There was no other choice.
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“Hey, listen, I’ve gotta go.” Anton quickly pocketed his cheap phone before grabbing his drink and finishing it in one go. He turned to the old hunter who was still talking, patted him on the shoulder, and then gave the skeptical bartender a nod. “Put it on my tab! You know where I live. You’ve got scary friends. It’ll be fine.” Anton slithered out of his seat without even looking back at the two once he had said his goodbyes, making a beeline for the exit, but not before stubbing his toe on the leg of a chair, iron or maybe even iron plated because screw the fae, right? “Gods damn it, guys.” He groaned, wincing in pain, not really stopping, while the bartender and the old hunter laughed at his bad fortune.
Outside, he skipped towards his white van, still wincing whenever the victimized foot accidentally made contact with the ground, though it didn’t take him long to jump in the driver’s seat, stab the key in its hole, and get the hell out of there. The Silver Bullet was always intentionally hard to find, thanks to the discreteness of the patrons themselves, especially towards the unwelcomed folks, which made Anton’s first visit a hilarious combination of getting lost for hours and almost getting beaten up because he forgot to tell them he was a hunter as well. When he did, though, and proudly mentioning his choice of prey, he was laughed at, welcomed inside, and even treated to a free drink. Hunters can be just as weird, man.
You know what else was weird? The cabin in the woods, his destination. On the surface, it looked just like any other cabin in the woods, everything was made of wood and lumber, but something about it felt strange and eerie to the exterminator. The couple, a lumberjack that looked extremely boring as hell and his much younger, more attractive wife, were waiting for him outside, where the discussion took place faster than that old hunter could get to the point of his story. 
“So, how long has this been going on?” Anton squinted, arms crossed, as he looked at the boring lumberjack and tried his best to keep his dark brown eyes from wandering to his hot wife. “Just a couple of days. Not sure what it is, but we thought you guys might.” He replied in the most boring tone possible. Before Anton could shoo them away so he can begin his work, the wife suddenly added something very important to the conversation at the very last minute. “Hopefully you get this pest out of here within the week. I’d rather not come back to milk spoiling really fast again and my underwear disappearing and reappearing all over the place.” Almost immediately, one word exploded in Anton’s mind: Fuck. 
Once the weird couple was gone, their pick-up truck driving away to some motel where they would spend the next few days, the exterminator went back to his van, stocked with a wide array of pest control weapons and equipment, and opened the rear door to start rummaging through the most appropriate of things to deal with the damned mind-boggling unwanted guests: his favorite spear, with its blade made of iron, and a jar of cheap peanut butter. Heaving a deep sigh, Anton squinted back at the cabin, mocking himself with a dry tone. “Who you gonna call? Bug Busters. Yay.”
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[END]
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vibeguardian · 4 years
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Tears and Sea Water
[it’s been a while and it’s not in the more “official” storyline but I wrote a lil something for @gridoc ‘s pirate au again!
huge thanks to @tunaships for beta reading this for me
set a little after Grian and NPG join the crew after an encounter with an old friend that rocked a lot of relationships in the crew]
Splish splash
The surface of the water is broken by tears violently hitting it. They fall, one after the other, surprisingly in sync with the tune the werewolf is mumbling to himself. 
Splish splash
The moonlight shines against the medallion in his hands. Gifted to him from his lovers; a promise to never leave each other. The tears spilled on it glisten in the low lighting. 
Splish splash
A wolf's howl echoes through the night. The sad undertone of it is one that could even make a rock weep. Despite the tiredness that darkened his under eyes, the man could not find rest in sleep. Sadly, a siren's lullaby has no effect on themselves. 
More tears drop on the surface of the sea, mixing in with the already salted water. They keep rolling down Ren's cheeks. Leaking from the corners of his eyes as he’s given up all effort to try and stop them. They pass the dark circles under them, some gathering up in puddles before they keep moving towards his chin. Streaming down his neck and soaking his shirt. He tries to cheer himself up, bringing old, nice memories to his mind. He quickly gives up on that as they have no benefit. All include either his brother... or them. All three of those people probably can’t bear to face him. Doc is not very harsh with him. The others are though. They refuse to talk to him, sometimes even refusing to acknowledge his existence. Doc occasionally spares an empathetic glance his way, as he too, is not in a good place. The captain of the ship gets most of the blame, yet Ren feels it all resting on his shoulders. ‘Traitor’ to all sea creatures. ‘Monster’ is the judgement he can clearly read in their eyes when they look at him. No doubt. No second chance. He often finds himself agreeing and he doesn’t know if that makes the situation more or less tragic. Sometimes he wishes this whole thing would've ended so much sooner. He tries to push the thought away, but it keeps creeping at the back of his mind. Maybe he could’ve rested if TFC hadn't found him that night. Now he can't. All because a siren can only charm others with their song. 
Stress says he's not behaving like he used to. She insists he needs to explain and apologize to them, but he doesn't think they'll ever wanna see him again. Listening to what he has to say is a whole other thing. Everything on the ship feels like too much. The tension in the air is ready to snap, as fragile as the finest porcelain. Even Grian - the person who managed to ignore him being a ‘filthy pirate’ while in the navy - now looks down on him. He usually escaped when they found land. He found comfort in their embrace. Now there's nothing he can do. He found some sympathy in False and Etho. They let him pour his heart out sometimes late at night when it was only the three of them and the sea listening. The atmosphere wasn’t any lighter, anyway, and they preferred that to doing chores in the suffocating silence. These were a few of the rare times he felt his chest lighten. Sometimes they even joked to lighten the situation, then, a smile would tug at the corner of his lips. It never became complete. By the next morning, more bad thoughts swarmed his head and lay more weight on his chest. There was nothing he could do, and no one he could turn to. All that just because a siren cannot put a spell on themselves.
Half-heartedly, Ren wipes away his tears. Is there really a point in doing so? They’ll be back in mere seconds anyway. The werewolf turns to lay on his back, letting the waves splash against his feet, dangling from the rock he’s sitting on. He turns his gaze to the sky, wanting to observe the stars. He knits his brows together in confusion. Tonight the sky is supposed to be clear - yet, the stars are all hidden away under a blanket of clouds. They are dark and seemed just as angry at him as he is at himself. Ren contemplates getting up and running back to the ship. His first thought is to visit them, in the house they share while at the island. That’s what he’d normally do, especially now that it was getting late, not wanting to worry them. Today he couldn’t really do such a thing... could he? They’d just kick him out with no second thought. 
The clouds seem to be getting darker and darker with each second that passes, matching his thoughts. The lycan settles on not getting up at all. He’d spent nights in the rain or outside before. He’ll be just fine. Right? Wrong. As more clouds gather, rain starts falling. It starts out as a light drizzle, but soon enough it is pouring, thunder tearing the sky in two. Ren, startled by the loud sound, as he had almost fallen asleep, jolts upright. The thing that saddens the werewolf the most is that his first thought isn’t to find shelter - it is anger at being awoken. He had just managed to rest, and now he‘s unable to do so again. He desperately wants to pretend the nightmares that haunt his dreams do not exist but at the end of the day; a siren cannot lull themselves to sleep. 
Ren brings Doc’s voice to his mind, scolding him after he’d spent a night in the rain when they were little. He imagines that his brother will have a quite similar face when Ren returns to the ship drenched today, too. Ren hangs his head as he speeds up his steps as he walks to the docks. As the rain starts becoming a full on storm and more thunder booms he curses himself for not having grabbed a cloak on the way out. On one hand, how could he have predicted that? But on the other hand… such storms were quite frequent, oftentimes violently hitting the area. Sometimes Ren truly did wonder why they chose this one. A loud voice calling out his name snaps him out of his thoughts. It is difficult, yet he could make it out as Iskall’s, despite the loud noises of the thunder and the rain. He curses under his breath, really not wanting to see them but he hears them call out again and feels a hand grab his shoulder. 
“REN! Where the hell are you going?” they scream, trying to be heard over the crackling of the thunder. 
“Where could I be going? Back to the ship, obviously!” the lycan yells back, getting kind of annoyed. 
“You can’t be walking out here like this! It’s dangerous! Come in.”
Ren is glad the rain is camouflaging his tears as he looks at his… they aren’t really his partner  anymore, are they? “No, I’ll just go back. I don’t want to be any more of an annoyance than I’ve already been so far.” He turns around to leave but Iskall grabs his shoulder again. 
“Ren. Don’t lie to me. I know you don’t like thunder; just come on in. Mumbo’s made soup.” They hand him a spare cloak they were holding, and they give him a reassuring smile as the pair makes their way back home. 
Ren isn’t sure if he’s allowed to call it home again, not yet. Nevertheless, he finally feels a little better, and oh, god, it’s been such a long time. The fire is lit and the three of them enjoy the meal Mumbo had prepared earlier. At first, they stay silent... but as they slowly start talking again, cracking jokes and teasing Mumbo for his cooking skills, Ren feels like this can be fixed. Maybe not any time soon, maybe not immediately, and maybe only after more time has passed. One day, though, it will happen - because even though not all wounds heal, most do. For the first time in quite a while, Ren doesn’t feel too scared to fall asleep. He had often tried to forget about all of this, and let his soul rest. Whatever he tried it was usually just a dead end, because a siren's song has no effect on themselves. 
This night - despite the thunder booming outside - as he drifts to sleep, curled up, even if he wasn’t in their shared bed, wrapped up in blankets and laying next to the fire... he smiles as he does not wish for a lullaby. This siren does not need to be put to sleep tonight. 
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imbellarosa · 3 years
Text
did someone say they wanted a small, sad SPN 15x20 rewrite (of sorts)?? it’s under the cut. the point of this is to show that they could have made it (mostly) tragic without making it Completely Pointless. this one’s for @queenlokibeth and @treatlouwithkindness who are grieving with me and for @dependsonwhospitching and @belgianreader2 who have been WATCHING me grieve for this fandom they knows nothing about and being the best kind of friends and also for anyone who asked what my writing looked like! this is a bit of an unbeta’d mess but here it is! 
They keep going. The road is in front of them, and they keep going, and they don’t stop until they run out of gas. Dean blasts Led Zepplin until his ears hurt, until his throat is raw from shouting the lyrics. He had forgotten that Cas had left his mixtape in the car last time they’d driven out. A trench coat, too, as it had turned out, a clean one. Guess Cas had gotten used to having his shirt ripped too many times to not have a spare handy. 
 (“Why would he not bring another one,” he had asked about Star Trek once, after Kirk’s shirt had been ripped again. 
“Not the point, Cas,” Dean had rolled his eyes and taken a swig of his beer.)
Sam looks at him like he’s worried, talks to him like he thinks Dean might spontaneously combust at any second. Dean tries to not feel offended. It isn’t like Sam’s wrong, but he wishes that they could act like everything was normal, for a second - like they used to, before Demons and Angels and Apocalypses, and trials and falling and flying. Eileen calls on the third day and shatters the illusion. It’s not that Dean isn’t happy to hear from her - of course he is - but it reminds him that he is acutely alone, and that it’s always going to be that way. They make a sharp U-turn, and start driving in the direction of the coordinates Eileen gave them. 
They stop in a small town along the way, meet some vamps ( “fuckin’ vamps,” Dean grumbles as he decapitates the last one), and keep moving west. Around Pontiac, Illinois, Sam stops the car and gets out.
“Dean,” he sighs, “what are you planning?”
“What’d’ya mean,” he replies, knowing exactly what he means. 
“Really?” Sam looks at him. “You want me to believe that Cas is dead and you’re just - what? You’re just accepting it? That it’s fine?” 
“It’s not fine, Sam,” he snaps, then takes a deep breath, and tries again, “it’s not fine. But what do you want me to do? Man, we just went up against God, and we won. Haven’t we learned that every time we play with these big, cosmic pieces that things just get more screwed? We can’t do that again, Sam, Cas wouldn’t want us to do that again. He’d want us - you - to get that apple pie life. So let’s just. Let’s do that for him, okay?”
“And what about you, Dean,” Sam doesn’t quite seem to believe him. Hell, Dean doesn’t really believe himself yet. “What are you gonna do?” 
“I dunno,” Dean rubs the back of his neck and looks at the trench coat in the backseat. “I’ll probably go back to the bunker, find a new job. Hit the road for a while” - he glances at Sam, who’s hair is almost long enough to tie into a bun - “you and Eileen could come with, if you want.” 
Sam sighs and seems to consider it, but Dean knows what he’s gonna say even before he does. Dean has always known his brother better than himself. 
“Nah,” Sam glances at him, then at his phone, and then at the sunset. “I think I’m gonna go try that apple pie life for a while. Or at least get as close to it as two former hunters can get.” 
“Yeah,” Dean says. “Thought you might say that.” 
“Hey,” Sam grabs his forearm. “If you ever need anything - help on a case, or a place to stay - anything - just let me know.” 
“Yeah,” Dean turns and faces his brother, and it feels like goodbye, even though he knows it isn’t. 
                                                              *
They reach Vermont - where Eileen had popped up - and met her in front of a bed and breakfast by a lake. She said that she just...appeared there one day, without a phone or money or a place to go. She’d borrowed the owner’s phone and called Sam as soon as she could, and had done some hustling for starter money. Sam stares at her like she’s a miracle, which, Dean supposes, he is. It’s the second time she’s come back to him, and Dean can see that Sam knows the absolute unlikeliness.
“What. Uh, what happened,” Sam clears his throat and tries to rub the tears out of his eyes. “How did it..how are you here?”
Jack, she signs, he said. He said that everyone should be with their families. 
“So, uh,” Sam looks at her like she’s going to disappear any second, “everyone’s...they’re okay?”
Well, she shrugs and smiles, and Sam had missed that mischievous glint in her eye, they’re all probably a bit confused, but we’re ..
”not dead,” she finishes verbally. Dean looks away, frozen like a deer in the headlights, or a boy lost in a crowd.
Sam grabs her and he hugs her and she’s small and slight, bones and edges and he can feel the outline of a gun hidden in waistband and he wonders how and when she got ahold of that, but mostly, he holds her and when he breathes in her hair smells a bit like apples. He doesn’t notice he’s crying until she pulls away and reaches up to wipe his tears. 
“It’s okay,” she says, and then signs, I’m okay. 
“I missed you,” Sam says, “I just. I missed you.”
I was gone for a week, she signs and rolls her eyes theatrically, what would you do without me? 
“Uh,” Sam gives a watery chuckle, “Let’s never find out, okay?”
That’s when Dean clears his throat. It’s not that he doesn’t love his baby brother, that he isn’t over the moon for him, because of course he is, but...
“Everyone’s back,” he clears his throat and checks his phone, “all of you?”
“Dean,” Eileen says, and her voice is kind. Dean thinks that he should learn more sign language. If she has to speak his language, he figures he should learn hers, too. And then he thinks that that sounds like something Cas would have said, and he looks back at Eileen, who’s trying to meet his eyes. 
“Is Cas...” Dean trails off, because he can’t ask the question - he knows the answer.
“He gave me a message for you,” she says, and she moves out of Sam’s arms to stand in front of him. “He wanted me to tell you that he’s okay. That Jack pulled him out.”
“So where is he,” Dean growls, turning away. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Sam interpreting, and it strikes him just how much Sam loves this woman - this woman who was one of them, who had fought beside them, who had made her way back to them. He faces her again. “Where” - his voice breaks, and he almost wishes Sam weren’t here to see it - “where’s Cas?”
“He told me,” Eileen continues, signing as she speaks, “he told me to tell you that he meant what he said. He said that he wanted to come back and see you, but that his son needs him. That your son needs him. He said that Jack might be God now, but he’s still his son, and he needs help now more than ever. That maybe God needs family, too, to remind him to be kind. Cas” - Eileen is crying now, too, she can’t help it - “Cas said that you’d understand that. That he’s going to be waiting, and that it’ll be sooner than you expect. He says that he’s gonna see you again, and that he knows. He told me to tell you that he knows what you were gonna say. And that he’s always going to...have his ears on. 
“I don’t know what that means,” she finishes with a small shrug. “I’m sorry.”
And so Dean does the only thing he possibly can do. He gathers his sister, and he hugs her, too.
“Yeah,” he says, letting go. “yeah, I get it. Thanks. That, uh. That means a lot to me.”
Sam looks at him with those puppy dog eyes he’d had since he was a baby and Dean waves him away.
“Oh, don’t do that,” he says loudly, “Come on, Sammy, let’s go start the rest of our lives.”
They turn back, and go inside the inn. 
                                                             *
“Hey Cas,” Dean whispers into the dark, the moon just a hang nail crescent shape outside his window. A new lunar cycle. He’s got twenty days ‘til werewolf time. He wonders if he’ll ever stop keeping time with monsters. “Eileen says you have your ears on, so. I mean, here’s hoping she’s right. Uh. I get it. Believe me, man, I do, Jack needs you. Hell, one of the last things I told him was that he wasn’t family and I was wrong - I was so wrong. Tell him. Tell him that I miss him, too. That he’s always gonna be my kid, you know? Even if he is all powerful now. 
“Um. But. I miss you. I know that you’re up there, and I’ll see you again but that’s gonna be years from now, man, and I just don’t know how to wake up and not see you in the kitchen trying to figure out how the coffee machine works. I don’t know how to watch a movie without looking over to see if you got the joke. Damn. So much for no chick flick moments, huh? Eileen said. She said that you knew and I didn’t have to say anything, but that’s how we got in this mess to begin with, so uh. Here goes, I guess. You gotta know that you’re it for me, man. I’m not as good with words as you are, but at the end of the day, I guess I always kinda thought we were gonna grow old together, you, me, Sam, in the bunker watching bad movies and finding new cases and just...making it up as we go along.
“I thought that one day you’d just...I don’t know. Move in with me, I guess? And that would be that. I thought we had all the time in the world, and then we had no time, and I didn’t - I froze. I’m sorry that I was a coward. I’m sorry that I didn’t say this - any of this - when you were here to hear it. But, uh. Hope you’re hearing it now.”
Somewhere, a bee hums its way back to its hive, singing in tune with a prayer. Somewhere, a boy laughs loudly, looking down at his little brother and thinking I will always keep you safe. Somewhere, a car moves down the interstate, music at full blast, driver high on life. Somewhere, a writer writes, and the world does not change at all. And, outside his window, Dean sees a falling star, and pretends that it’s an angel with a crack in their chassis, making their way down to find someone who loves them. When he falls asleep, he does not dream. 
                                                             *
Dean goes back to the bunker. It’s big and empty, but it was Cas’ home, and so it’s his, too. Sam and Eileen go back with him, but he knows they won’t be there for too long.
“This will always be your home, Sammy,” he says when Sam loads his boxes onto an old trailer of Bobby’s, because Dean’s trying to say all the words he feels out loud these days. 
“I know, Dean,” Sam says, even if he doesn’t, and then he hugs his brother tightly, not for the last time, but for the last time in this moment, as the people they once were. When they meet again they won’t have grown together, and so they will be strangers, in some ways. 
Maybe, Dean thinks, that’s how it’s supposed to be. He watches Sam and Eileen climb into the truck and head North, and he calls them at the end of the day to make sure they haven’t run into trouble.
“You don’t need to come save me yet, Dean,” Sam scoffs, but he’s secretly relieved that they’ll always have this, and so he doesn’t hang up until Eileen shoots him that look that says ‘I’ll murder you if you don’t hurry up’, and he’s more scared of her than Dean, so he hangs up and keeps driving.
Sam doesn’t stop driving until they make their way into Texas, into a small town with a house that sits on a large lot of land, and has a storm cellar in the basement. They raid the local grocery store for all the salt they can find, put rosaries into the water tanks, and then they start unpacking their boxes. Sam thinks that he’s never gonna be out, not really, but he’s not gonna be in either. He needs this for a while - the trees and the long grass and the woman beside him and nothing that goes bump in the night. He sends a quick thank you to Jack and Cas and thinks that maybe they can start to heal. 
                                                              *
Dean watches movies on Thursday nights. At first they’re movies that he meant to show Cas but never got around to: Lord of the Rings, When Harry Met Sally, James Bond. Then he gets around to watching those dumb nature documentaries Cas would always put on when he thought no one was paying attention - Dean was always paying attention, and now that he realizes it he just...he feels so damn stupid. But he watches them anyways, because he thinks Cas would have enjoyed it if he’d sat down with him and watched a thing about bees, just once.
“The things I do for you, Cas,” he says out loud every time he picks a new one. “Gotta admit, though, that David Attenborough - he knows what he’s talking about.” 
He tries watching a horror movie once, but it hurts, looking at the demons on the screen and remembering Meg and Ruby and Crowley and Lucifer and Michael and Cas. It always comes back to Cas. 
“I just miss you, man,” he says to his room, his car, his cup of coffee. He keeps the dog named Miracle, and he thinks that Cas would have liked that, and he takes him on walks every morning and pretends that Cas is with him.
“I got a call from Jody last night,” he says to no one, though he puts headphones on so that people who see him don’t think he’s all sorts of wacko. He could just be on the phone. He wishes he was on the phone. “She says that Claire and Kaia are getting really serious. Says they want to move out and start hunting together, and she wanted to know what I thought of it. Can you believe that, Cas? Told her to give her a bit of space, and remind her that she’s family. You probably would have said it better, but. It’s the best I got. I’m not used to this whole...talking thing yet, okay? Claire’s 21 now, Cas. I feel so old. Maybe I’ll invite Jody and Donna and them for Thanksgiving. Sam and Eileen, too, of course, but we have more than enough space in the bunker.”
Dean will never stop saying ‘we’. 
                                                           *
Sam has a kid and names him Dean and Dean cries for hours when he finds out. He calls Claire and tells her to drag her ass over for a visit next month, he knows she and Kaia are busy saving the world, but to not forget about him in the meantime, and she agrees and tells him to get his ass off the phone and enjoy his nephew. 
“You’d love this,” Dean tells Cas, “he’s such a good kid. He never cries. Sam and Eileen almost thought something was wrong with him, Sam even took him to a priest to have him checked over, what with the...you know. But nah. He’s a perfectly normal kid - or, as normal as you can be, if you’re Sam’s kid, I guess.”
Dean laughs, then sighs, looking around Sam’s house, how he and Eileen have built a life and then babyproofed it. Sam hasn’t hunted a single monster in over nine months, and the world is still turning, somehow. Ten years ago, he never would have believed it. But now, well. He has faith.
“Tell Jack I said hi,” Dean whispers to Cas. “Tell him I miss him, too, and that this kid is gonna know all about him - you, too, you know. I’m never gonna shut up about you.”
An owl hoots outside of baby Dean’s window, and Dean chooses to believe that it’s Cas laughing at him. 
                                                                *
He gets old. Every Christmas, he sets up a small tree, and at the top of it, he puts an angel with a blue tie and a trench coat. He takes up Bobby’s phone banks, and suddenly he’s got Sheriff’s from all over the country asking him if he’s agent “Swift” or “Spears” and every time he hears the names, he smirks and glances upwards and says, “Yeah, hello, who am I speaking to?” 
Big Threats pop up, and before long he realizes that he’s built quite the network of hunters to deal with it, that he no longer needs to hit the road himself. So he starts buying up classic cars, and he fixes them up. Chevy’s, BMWs, Fords, you name it, he buys it, then he restores and sells them, and uses the money from the sale to buy the next one. He puts the extra cash back into the network of hunters, making sure they have fakes, supplies, and a safe place to go if they need it. And so, over the years, the bunker becomes a sort of Hunter Hub. A home base. 
Sometimes, couples would leave their kids with Dean while they went out on jobs, and he would tell them stories of when he was young. He’d tell them of his brother, who had brought about and then stopped the apocalypse, of the demon who became a friend, about Ellen and Jo and the Roadhouse, how it had been a place like his for people who needed it, he told them about Bobby, the man who raised him and loved him even though they weren’t blood, and he told them about Kevin and Charlie who had been so young and still fought so bravely and taught him so much. He’d show them the postcards that Charlie sent him - was still sending him - from her and Stevie’s world travels. And, of course, he’d tell them about Cas. Always Cas. The angel who saved him from hell, who revolted against heaven for the sake of the whole world (for Dean’s sake, because he loved him), who became a man and kept fighting anyways, though he didn’t know quite how. He told them about Cas and Metatron and Cas and Lucifer and Cas and Naomi and Cas, Cas, Cas, everywhere.
Sometimes, when the children were older, he’d show them pictures to go along with the stories. A copy of the last picture he has of Jo and Ellen, standing there with Bobby and Sam and him and Cas and he tries hard not to think about how its just him and Sam left. He shows them pictures of Cas in a cowboy hat and Jack in stupid sunglasses. He shows them pictures of Sam and Eileen, even though they don’t visit very often. 
(”I can’t, Dean,” Sam had said. “I can’t raise my kid how dad raised us. I have to be out.”
“I get that, Sam,” Dean had nodded, “But this is my life. I gotta do this, not just for me.”
“I know,” Sam had said, and then, “Hey.”
“Hmm?”
“Love you, jerk.”
“Bitch.”
And they had laughed, and Dean would go to their house for Christmas and the New Years and they would go to his for Thanksgiving, and he would meet up with Sam once a month in a small bar in Oklahoma, halfway between Kansas and Texas, and it would be good. Dean would never have believed it, before, but this was...good.)
                                                             *
Dean lives ‘til he’s eighty two, and he never once stops talking to Cas as though he was still around. Sam still prayed, sometimes, but not like that, never like that. Dean, ironically, was the most devout person most people knew. He always said that a parent should have faith in their kid, and as his kid was God, well. He had no choice but to be faithful. When he was older, his neighbors would laugh - what a crazy way of looking at the world! Dean would smile and wave them off and put his headphones in, ‘call’ his partner, and walk his dog. 
He dies quietly, one night, and, in the morning, the hunters that had been staying in the bunker find him in his bed, smiling, with an old mixtape on the nightstand. They call Sam, who is an old man himself, and he calls his son (who has kids of his own, Sam can hardly believe it). Dean Jr. (DJ, he’d decided when he was seven, and stuck to it ever since) picks his mom and dad up and takes them to the bunker, where they wrap dean in cloth, build a pyre, and then salt and burn him. A proper hunter’s funeral for a man who never stopped fighting. 
Claire and Kaia are there, and they bring their kids. Sam hugs them, and presses the keys to the bunker in Claire’s hand.
“You keep this place up,” he tells her with a smile, “Dean would have wanted that.”
She’s older now, well in her forties - the same age Dean had been when he’d started to run his home like a hostel for hunters - but Sam still sees the eight year old girl who’d loved her dad so much she let an angel possess her. He thinks, our bodies, possessed by light, and then he thinks about Cas properly for the first time in many years. Take care of my brother, he prays, and then turns to Claire and leads her inside. They have pie together. 
                                                           *
When Dean opens his eyes, he’s in the bunker. He feels lighter than he has in decades: his back doesn’t ache and his joints don’t creak, and he hears someone bustling around in the kitchen. Probably Claire, he thinks, and then moves to sit up before noticing his own hands. The wrinkles that had become so familiar are gone. As are the permanent grease stains from spending so much time under the hood of a car. His old hunting boots are by the door, and a plaid overshirt is bunched in the corner of the desk, like it had landed there when he’d tossed it off the night before. But...he was pretty sure he didn’t own that shirt anymore. He can hear a radio crackling from the living room, playing Ramble On. He hasn’t listened to that song since...well. In a long time. 
Slowly, he makes his way down to the kitchen, and stops dead when he reaches the door. 
“I,” he starts, and his voice is young and strong and nothing like he remembers it being when he went to bed. 
“Hello Dean,” Cas says, and then the bacon catches fire.
“Woah,” Dean exclaims, rushing over and crowding the stove - it used to be like that, he remembers, between cases - Cas never could figure out how to cook and Dean would always end up shooing him out of the kitchen. Can’t have you killin’ us here, Cas, he would say, and finish the meal for both of them. Then they would sit, have a beer, and not say much of anything at all. Dean had almost forgotten. He turns down the stove, tosses the burnt bacon, and clears his throat. “Well, guess it doesn’t matter if you burn the food here, ‘cuz I’m guessing you can’t kill us.”
“No,” Cas agrees, looking very much as lost and disbelieving as Dean feels. “We’re already dead - or, you are. My condolences.” 
“Nah,” Dean huffs a laugh, “it’s okay. My life was pretty good, you know? But it was probably my time - way past it, even.” 
“Your life was remarkable,” Cas looks at him solemnly. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“You could hear me?”
“Were you not certain of that,” Cas raises his eyebrows. 
“I had faith,” Dean hip checks him, and smiles. “Thanks for listening.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there,” Cas says softly.
“Jack needed you, I get that. And look,” Dean catches his eye and grins, “here we are anyways. Not like death ever stopped us.” 
They cook in silence for a moment.
“How long has it been, for you,” Dean asks him.
“A week,” Cas shrugs and looks away. “Maybe two. Time moves differently here.”
“It was forty years, for me,” Dean says.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. My life....it was good, Cas. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but I did alright. And I was never alone. I had family. I had you.” 
“Well,” Cas catches his hand and pulls it away from the new pan of eggs, “you certainly have me now.” 
The second pan of eggs burns, too.
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cracked-pean · 4 years
Text
In Case You Didn’t Know
Characters: Derek Hale, Female! Reader, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Allison Argent, Lydia Martin, and Slight Mention of Melissa McCall.
Word Count: 2,238
Warnings: None. Just Fluffy stuff.
Masterlist
A/N: This is one of my favorite songs and I couldn’t help myself. Hope you enjoy it. Feel free to leave your thoughts and feedback.
+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~
The party was in full swing. Allison and Scott in the middle of the dance floor with a Stiles that looked like he was on a sugar high, and Lydia and Malia dancing together beside them. Everyone was gathered together to celebrate the happy couple on their wedding day. Allison and Scott had only been engaged for a few months but couldn't wait till next year.
[Y/N] had just stepped out of the crowd to go to the bar and get a drink. She turned around to face the venue and let out a happy sigh. Everything had been so beautiful, from the reception, to the decorations, to the cake. [Y/N] wasn't a fan of the whole wedding thing. Mainly because she just never had any luck in the love department and the one person she had eyes for was not here.
"What you got there?"
A voice to her right spoke. She glanced down at her drink, "It's a- you know what, I don't know," she chuckled. "Whatever it is it's st-" she glanced to the stranger and was taken by surprise.
"Oh my god, Derek," she quickly set the drink down and embraced the man.
"I thought you weren't gonna make it. They all said you wouldn't," he returned the action and gave a laugh.
"As if I was gonna miss this celebration and reunion."
The gang had all been busy. Stiles was in Virginia,  Quantico to be exact in the FBI. Lydia was off at MIT. Malia took off the second she graduated, apparently she finally got to go to France. Allison and Scott went to school together, got their degrees and somewhere in between got engaged. With Scott being alpha, he couldn't leave the town unprotected. So, Allison being the best that she was stayed behind with him. [Y/N] had stayed in Beacon Hills as well. With her helping run her family's restaurant, she couldn't be happier. As for Derek. He had gone back to New York, needing a new change in scenery. To say it's been a long time since they all were together was an understatement. It had been 3 years. With the distance and busy lives they lived, they still managed to stay in contact and act as if nothing ever changed. She saw the couple almost everyday, with them having to walk past the restaurant to and from work and the occasional dine-ins. Sometimes they went out on their days off together and had a few drinks.
[Y/N] pulled away from him with a grin on her face, "Wow. When did you get here? Have you seen the guys yet?"
"Haven't been here long, just a few minutes, I saw you near by and made my way over. And no I haven't." She blushed at that.
"Well, we'll have to change that. C'mon let's go to them," she gulped down the last of her drink and grabbed his hand to lead him through the crowd.
Wasn't long for the group of friends to notice [Y/N] and the person trailing behind, "DEREK!" They all greeted him with hugs and smiles.
They spent a good while dancing together until they decided to take a break at their nearby table. They all conversated about what they had been doing in the last few years, making jokes and laughing at some crazy story Stiles was telling about his co-worker, Spencer.
After a while, [Y/N] decided to get everyone a few shots and made her way to the bar. As she waited for her order, she began nodding along to the music and mouthing the words.
"Thank you," [Y/N] took the circled tray and turned to walk back to the table, only to almost bump into Scott's mom.
"Shit, sorry Melissa."
"Wow, got enough there?"
[Y/N] laughed and motioned to the table near the front, "I hope so. It's for that crazy lot I call friends."
"Ah, of course," a smile with a small pat on the shoulder from her, [Y/N] excused herself and made way back.
"Alright guys, this round is on me," she said happily as she set the drinks down on the table.
"[Y/N/N], this is already paid for," Scott mentioned.
"Shh, let me have this," she shushed him.
-
Time had flown by. It was nearing the end of the party and people began to leave little by little.
[Y/N] was off to the side at a nearby table talking to a few folks while swaying a bit to the soft songs playing. Her back was towards the others so she didn't notice the glance Derek threw her way with a smile.
The man always had a soft spot for her. He would never admit his feelings towards her to himself. Always thought she didn't feel the same, and was scared of getting close to her. Back then they had a totally different lifestyle. With him trying to figure himself out as to what he wanted to do with his life, all the bad guys they had to face and it just not being a good time to get close to anyone like that. The male just suppressed the feelings. That's why he left for New York. Time away gave him a sense of direction to figuring out what he wanted and who he wanted to be with. Derek realized that he shouldn't let other things stop him from his happiness. He wanted to have a life, build a family and just be surrounded by his friends again. He wanted [Y/N] by his side through it all.
Lydia took a small glance at Derek noticing his gaze was not focused on the conversation going on at the table. She followed his gaze and a smile grew on her face. [Y/N]. Those two. The redhead silently grabbed everyone else's attention and nodded her head to what she was referring to. They all playfully rolled their eyes at them. A fond smile was plastered on the former alpha's face.
Lydia, being the one she was, decided to take the lead. She gently placed a hand on the man's arm.
Derek snapped out of his trance and followed to who the arm led to. He made eye contact with the banshee and then realized the whole table was looking at him.
"What?"
"What do you mean 'what'. You look like a love sick puppy." Stiles spoke.
Derek scoffed, "I do not."
His cousin mimicked the sound, "Yes you do. Why haven't you told her how you feel already?" she questioned.
His eyes grew wide. They knew? That was a dumb question, of course they knew. They knew everything. There was no point in hiding it, the whole group was on to him. He rubbed the back of his neck gently and looked down at his feet. "I don't know. Just haven't I guess."
Lydia took a seat next to him, "You think she doesn't feel the same, but she does," she assured him.
This caught the werewolf's attention. "She does?"
"Yeah dude. We all see the way she looks at you. Heart shaped eyes and all. Same way you look at her," the alpha pointed out.
He glanced back at the girl in time to see her toss her head back in laughter. He smiled.
Suddenly,the familiar tune to Brett Young's 'In Case You Didn't Know' began to play through the speakers.
Allison laughed, "Now if that isn't a sign, I don't know what is," she spoke referring to the song.
Lydia gave his knee a pat, "Go and ask her to dance. It is her favorite song after all."
Derek looked at his friends, all of them giving him a supporting look. He rubbed his clammy hands against his things and took a deep breath. He stood up from his seat and began to make his way to the girl. He could hear the small cheers from his friends as he walked away from them. When he got close, one of her friends made a gesture towards her to look behind her.
Confused, [Y/N] turned only for her to smile at the man in front of her. Derek.
"Hey."
"Hey," his heart was beating rapidly and hard against his chest. He gets the pack were having a laugh at how nervous he is. Now or never. "Would you like to dance?"
Shock with a hint of fear took over her. Dancing. Dancing with a partner was something she couldn't do. Let alone with the man she has had a crush on for years. She'd make a fool of herself.
"I-I can't dance," she said quietly.
He gently took her hand,"It's ok, I'll teach you," and slowly began to lead her away from the table and  to the open floor. 
Donnie shot a look of surprise to her friends as they walked past them, only to be met with smiles, a few winks and a thumbs up from Lydia.
Once on the floor, Derek turns towards her and softly places her left hand on top of his right shoulder, places his right hand on her hip and let's his left grab a hold of her right. They were close in proximity and began to sway to the song.
Derek could hear her heart thumping loudly and leaned his head beside hers. "Relax, you'll be fine. Just follow my lead."
She let out a breathy laugh and nodded, "Right, sorry. First time jitters."
After a few moments of letting her get the pace of the dance, he broke the silence.
"You know why I came back?" He spoke near her ear.
"For Allison and Scott's wedding, right?"
"Yeah, but not just for that," he closed his eyes, "It's because I wanted to see you again."
She froze for a second. Me. She thought. He came back for me? What the hell?
"I don't understand. Why?"
The confusion in her voice made him laugh a little. The next verse in the song was just too perfect and Derek sang along to it.
"Baby I'm crazy 'bout ya,
And I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you.
Even Though, I don't tell you all the time.
You had my heart a long, long time ago. In case you didn't know."
Tears began to well up in her eyes. No, it couldn't be. She thought. This is too good to be true.
"That smooth motherfucker," Malia spoke.
"Gotta admit that was pretty good," Scott chimed in.
The other three looked between the two. Obviously they were eavesdropping on them. For safety reasons of course.
"What? What did he say?"
"Did he tell her?"
Both Allison and Lydia asked their friends.
"He basically confessed by singing to her the last verse that just played," said with a smile.
Stiles whistled softly, "Damn, who knew he had it in him."
"Derek," [Y/N] said softly.
He just gave her hand a small squeeze.
"I've liked you for a while now. Even when we were running around chasing bad guys and solving cases," he began. "But, I wasn't in the right head-space to act upon them. We had so much going on that I didn't think it was the right time to start something I wasn't ready for yet. Besides, I didn't think you liked me then."
She let out a small laugh while wiping a few tears off her face. "You're a werewolf that has super hearing and is like a lie detector, smells emotions and is able to tell what the person is feeling, and you couldn't determine My sense of emotions."
Her comment made him smile, realizing that she too returned his feelings. "Like I said. Wasn't all there," he pulled away to look at her.
The song was nearing its end. Donnie brought both her arms to rest on his shoulder and interlocked her fingers behind his head. She placed her forehead against his and closed her eyes, trying to soak up this lovely moment.
"I suppose not. But I guess, it was a good thing I didn't act upon mine either. Who knows how we would've turned out."
With Derek's hands now at her waist, he softly rubbed circles with his thumbs at her sides, "A few rough bumps here and there but still good." He opened his eyes and placed his thumb and index finger underneath her chin, so she could look back up at him.
"[Y/N/N], I know this is long overdue. But, would you please be mine?"
She looked into his eyes. The eyes she fell in love with back when she first saw them in the open forest. The same eyes that always gave her compassion and strength. The same eyes that are now showing her the same love she has felt towards him in the past few years.
With a soft graze of her lips to his she whispered the answer.
"Yes."
As the last line and note played out. They're lips met.
A noise of loud cheers and applause erupted from the pack and family.
"FINALLY!" Stiles shouted.
Derek smiled against the kiss as [Y/N] laughed lightly.
"Were we that bad," Derek asked, leading their way back to their table hand in hand.
"Yes, it was disgusting," Malia faked gagged.
"Oh shush," [Y/N] smiled as she leaned into Derek's side. He smiled and gave the top of her head a kiss.
Maybe weddings weren't so bad after all.
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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years
Text
What happened to them? - Theo Raeken x Reader
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A/N: This is a crossover. There’ll be more parts, I’d love some feedback to know what you guys want to happen.
Liam knocked at your door. Over the weeks he had grown worried, for not only you but Theo as well. The pair of you were scared, a couple of frightened werewolves. That was never a good thing, even more so that Scott and the others had finally moved onto college.
Mason tapped his foot beside him, creating a tune upon the porch. He tried peeking through the windows but the curtains were drawn. 
And then the door opened, revealing an older woman, one that the boys assumed to be your mother.
“Yes?” She asked, peeking her head past the threshold, inspecting the two teenagers curiously. It was late, the increasing deepness of the blue in the sky only making it appear later.
Liam gave her a small smile, before beginning to speak. “Um, hi. We’re friends of (Y/N), and we were wondering where she is.”
They had tried contacting you and Theo, but neither of you were responding not even reading the messages. At school, before you graduated and decided to stay in town, you had a tendency to always be on your phone. In class. In the cafeteria. In the library. You name it. 
Your mother frowned, looking between the boys once more. “Is one of you Liam?”
Although they hadn’t met before, Liam assumed you had mentioned him or something. She must have met the original pack members one time or another, but he was a late addition. 
“Yeah, and this is Mason.” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of his friend.
The woman looked down at the ground, shuffling on the outdoor rug uncomfortably. Then her gaze returned to Liam, focusing on him more than she was Mason. 
“She left you a note. Would you like to come in?” She offered, giving the boy a sad smile.
Mason didn’t voice it, but he had a bad feeling. About this house, the woman, and the lack of you and Theo. He often pretended to be disgusted in the public affection the two of you displayed to each other, but strangely he missed it. Something was wrong, and he regretted not bringing the bat Stiles had given him with him.
“Sure.” Liam accepted, stepping into the house. He tried to scope out any scent of you with his nose, but it was numbed. There were candles burning, of all flavours, and they managed to block his ability.
The werewolf walked towards the table where he saw an envelope addressed to him. His name was written similarly to your hand writing, but it seemed off. Some of the letters appeared squished together, too close for your neatness. It was rushed.
Mason stood opposite Liam, on the other side of the table, so that he could keep an eye on both his friend and the lurking woman. His bad feeling hadn’t strayed after he entered, it only increased. “What does it say?”
Liam,
Something is wrong. Me and Theo have been sensing it for a couple of weeks, and we can’t shake it. We need to get help, just stay safe little beta, or Scott will kill me.
There was a woman, I didn’t recognise her. She was my mother, but the next day she wasn’t. Her eyes were as black as night, poisoned with some kind of possession. Over the last week, we’ve been doing research. Demons exist. They come straight from Hell and are doing someone’s bidding. I don’t know who’s, the devil’s maybe.
And now Theo’s gone. They got to him first. I have to find him Li. It might be stupid going at it alone, but I’ll handle it. I’ve fought hunters, alpha werewolves, a kanima, a darach, Oni and the Nogitsune, the dread doctors, than anuke ite, a werejaguar, and worst of all Theo.
You just need to get in contact with the others. We’re a pack, we’ll figure it out. I’m heading to Lawrence, Kansas.
Stay safe Dunbar, or I’ll kick your ass,
(Y/N) x
Liam raised his head, turning to your supposed mother. And that was when he saw it, the black beads that were now her eyes. She was a demon.
“Run Mason.” He threw a chair at her, causing her body to collapse and begin to stand. Mason complied. 
….
“Demons. Wow.” Liam was behind the wheel as Mason explained the situation to Corey. They had already began their journey to Kansas.
“How did she even know that was where she had to go?” Mason asked.
Now that was not explained in the letter that was on the dashboard. You probably didn’t have time to explain. Liam put his phone in the holder, letting it call Scott.
Peter sighed from the backseat. He usually told people he was retired, but clearly in this life he wasn’t. “She’s not stupid.” He spoke, remembering how you already had your suspicions about him when he tried to kill Scott. “We’ll find her, and then she’ll tell us.”
“She went by herself.” Derek contradicted. Corey looked frightened to be between the two sour wolves. “They should have come to us, then we could have figured this out before it got this far.”
He had a point. But you had been running. There was no point in dragging a whole ship down with you if you could just jump off.
“Liam?” Scott answered finally through the speakers of his beta’s phone.
Now he had to explain the situation, but he hardly knew where to start.
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Text
The Pull (85/?)
Summary: The Ragnulf’s are one of the oldest lines of werewolves known. A gift from ancient times was gifted to them. Though not all of the line will experience it. There are some who will experience a Pull. This Pull leads them to their true mate, a soulmate. The problem is, just because the wolf finds their true mate does not mean that they are the same for that person.
Author: @lettersofwrittencollective​
Pairing: Stiles x Hale!Cousin OC (Reader)
Word count: 1396
Warnings: angst,  
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Once you’d figured out that Garrett was after Liam, the boys had decided that Liam would be staying off the field. Now it was just a matter of convincing Coach to bench one of his best players. 
You, however, still felt like there was more to it.
With the injury on the field, the game had experienced a slightly longer time-out and Coach had been talking to the other Coach and the Ref while they took care of whatever they had to take care of. 
Liam was waiting to talk to Coach, a nervous bounce in his stance. 
Scott and Stiles were filling Kira in on what they’d just discovered and, you’re pretty sure, were charging her with keeping an eye on the pup. 
Positive that there was more to the story, your eyes were scanning the crowds for the girl in the white T-Shirt and leather jacket. Garrett’s little friend… Violet. 
There’s no sign of her in the stands and that doesn’t sit right with you.  It makes your wolf antsy and you can feel her pacing just below the surface. 
Pair that with the fact that you’re sure you had heard multiple growls when Liam and Brett had collided, you’re starting to have a bad feeling about this. 
“I’ll be back,” you tell your friends over your shoulder, not really paying attention to whether or not they actually hear you or pay attention. 
Making your way towards the school, you notice that the ambulance is still in the parking lot, a terrible sign really. 
Heading towards the school, you make your way in near the lockers. As soon as you open the door, your eyes are drawn to a sight about halfway down the hall— bodies on the floor. 
The sight terrifies you and you can feel your heart beginning to race a million miles an hour. However, you know that if it had been Brett growling on that field, you have to find him. Taking a deep breath, you make your way towards the open locker room door as quietly as you can. 
As you do, you can hear Brett’s voice, “What did you do to me?”
The fact that you were right about there being more to what was going on was a small victory. But the sound of the girl's voice pulled a small growl from you. 
“You were cut with a poisoned blade,” she explains, “It was laced with wolfsbane — it won’t kill you. But this will.”
By this time, you’re just outside the door and you take one more solidifying breath, while Brett asks why she’s doing this. 
Looking in the door, you watch as Violet kicks his arms out from under him, knocking Brett completely down as she answers, “Because you’re worth a lot of money Brett.”
So he’s on a part of the list you haven’t cracked yet…
You watch as she moves to straddle Brett but before she can do anything to him, you rush her, knocking the girl off of him and shoving her, headfirst, into the mirrors in front of you. 
Turning around, you lean over Brett, who looks like he’s been through hell at this point, and you start to look for the cut. 
You don’t see anything and go to ask him only to find that he’s passed out. 
You’re so distracted with him that you don’t even notice the wire being slipped over your head. 
You’re tuned into it when you feel the wire tighten against your skin and a burning sensation begins. 
“He said we shouldn’t try,” Violets smug voice echoes in your ear, “But now I’ve got you. I got the Natasha Ragnulf and next I’m going after Scott and Stiles. ”
The sound of her voice pisses you off but it’s the threat to Stiles that makes something inside you snap. Growling, you manage to slip your fingers under the wire. Pulling at it, you can feel Violet trying to tighten the wire and you can feel the burning sensation against your skin but you manage to pull it far enough away from your neck that you’re able to turn around. 
Turning around, you’re purple eyes meet her brown eyes and you watch as realization dawns on her that she’s not going to get to kill you and the stench of fear overpowers her. 
Hand snapping out, you grip her neck as you let out a roar of rage and push her against the wall with enough force that she lets out a gasping breath. 
Letting go just enough for her to take a breath, you push her against the wall again, this time hard enough that her head bounces off the wall. 
You can feel your canines elongate and are about to let your claws follow suit, determined to enjoy her death as a wolf when you hear your mate calling out Lobita. 
Turning to snarl at him and warn him away, you’re anger dissipates slightly at the sight of him. When he approaches you slowly, hands in the air as if to avoid spooking you. 
“You need to let her go Tasha...”
Lobita…
Looking at Stiles, you see his gaze flick over to the girl before flicking back to you, this time there’s a plea in his eyes for you to let the girl go. 
Stiles wasn’t sure if you’d let the girl go.
When he’d gotten the phone call from Malia he’d been surprised that neither Scott nor Tasha had realized that Brett was a werewolf. 
It was as he’d told Scott and the others that he’d realized that you weren’t with them. 
He’d looked for you in the immediate area but hadn’t found you. One of the guys had said he’d seen you headed towards the school and he’d taken off after you. 
He had just opened the doors to the school when the sound of a powerful, pissed off roar came from down the hall.
He’d been torn between pride and terror at the sound. Rushing down the hall he’d stepped into the locker room, his nose assaulted by the scent of burning flesh. He found Tasha pushing a girl up against the wall.
For a moment, he’d been genuinely worried that she was going to hurt the girl. He had called her name a couple of times before the pet name had torn past his lips without his realizing it.
It had been enough to get her attention.  
When she’d turned to him, he had seen the rage in her eyes. 
She was genuinely pissed. 
“You need to let her go Tasha…” he’d told her.
Let her destroy the girl…  he heard a pissed off snarl. It wasn’t hard to piece together what had happened and a part of him was tempted to agree with the voice, to let her tear apart the ragdoll in her hands. 
He wasn’t sure where the voice came from, the anger wasn’t such a surprise, but before he’d had a chance to focus on it, Tasha’s arms were wrapped around his neck.
The scent of eucalyptus and red apples made him feel like he could breathe again. Winter cranberries filled his nose and he felt his heartbeat felt like it was slowing down as it calmed him. 
Wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tight, he’s distracted by the sound of footsteps and looks up to see Scott running into the locker room. 
Scott takes a look at the room and Tasha in Stiles’s arms when he asks, “What’s that smell?”
Stiles is about to ask what when Tasha begins to laugh. 
She pulls back from Stiles, but a moment later, her arm is around his torso as she pulls at something on her neck. It takes him a moment to realize that it’s a necklace with a pendant and it confuses the hell out of him because she definitely had not been wearing that at all earlier today.  
“Seems our little friend over here is the one with the thermal cut wire,” Tasha tells them as she pulls off the necklace and hands it towards them, the offending item dangling from her fingertips. 
He can’t help but to see red, the idea of tearing apart the currently unconscious girl suddenly much more appealing. Tightening his grip on Tasha, he shares a look of shock with Scott who tells him, “We should probably call your dad…”
-
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-
A/N: Thank you so much for reading!! Sorry this is short but this just felt the most natural. Let me know what you thought! Comments, reblogs, asks… all of these things let me know how you’re feeling about the story and give me life!
Everything taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24​ @nicole-lynne​ @mummybear​ @emichelle​ @genius2050​ @suhoey​ @fullangelimagines​ @xceafh​
Series taglist:  @treestarrrrrrrr​ @redsalv20​ @truthdaze​ @cutiepiemimi13​  @unoriginallysara​  @the-three-eyed-ravenclaw​  @linktomyheartpiece​  @sasha-obrienn​  @piccasoe​​ ​@msrawog​ @eternallyvenus​ @michellebarista​ 
@lostinwonderland314​​ @katemusic​ @kiwihoee​  @thesailbells​
Dylan Taglist @blvckcanry​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @theholydestiny​ @delacxurs​ @yaya2503 @thegirlwhoimagined​
Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is the property of lettersofwrittencollective. Associated characters belong to MTV and are being borrowed for this work, all OC’s are the property of lettersofwrittencollective. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.
Posted 11 March 2020
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strangerivy · 4 years
Text
The Beginning - Twelve
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Summary:  Being locked in the school with a killer werewolf is not how the trio wanted to spend there night, but here they were running around the school with a killer werewolf after them. Warnings: Swearing | Violent Depictions Pairings: Stiles Stilinski x Original Character (Kacy) Genre: 18+ | Fluff | Angst Word Count: 3.3k Author’s Note: So I’m going to start posting more one-shots to help with my creative flow and to help improve my writings, if you guys have any ideas or suggestions don’t be afraid to send them! Please let me know what you guys think! Leave a like 😊
|| One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Masterlist ||
“Lock it! Lock it!” Scott shouted as we made it into the school holding the doors closed by the push handles.
“Does it look like I have a key!” Stiles panicked looking up at both Scott and me, we stayed low to the ground away from the small windows in the door.
“Grab something!” Scott yelled, “Anything!” Stiles took a deep breath before quickly standing up looking out the window he was by in the door.
“Stiles what?” I asked not sure of what he was looking for, I stood up just enough to look out the other door window spotting the bolt cutters laying on the sidewalk outside. I shook my head. “No,” Scott shot up looking as well.
“No,”
“Yes,” Stiles reached out gripping Scotts shirt to try and hold him back and before either of us could object further he opened the door and snuck outside. My heart began to beat faster as I watched him from the window.
“Come on,” I whispered as he walked to the bolt cutters cautiously picking them up and then I caught movement by his jeep seeing the Alpha walk out from behind it, I banged on the window
“Stiles run!” I screamed, Scott spotted the Alpha also and we both banged on the window to get Stiles's attention. Stiles slowly looked over at the Alpha before running to us, we opened up the door for him slamming it shut as soon as he got in sticking the bolt cutters in the push handles to help keep the doors closed. We waited for some sort of impact from the Alpha but when it never came we stood up looking out the windows seeing nothing but an empty parking lot.
“Where’d it go?” Scott asked looking around the parking lot in confusion, I ran my hands through my hair feeling wetness on my cheeks,
“Hey hey,” Stiles cooed walked up to stand in front of me holding my face in his hands wiping away the tears, I stared up at him for a moment before gently pushing his hands away.
“I’m okay,” I muttered just quiet enough for him to hear before walking over to the wall taking a few deep breaths.
“That’s not going to hold, is it?” Scott asked pointing over at the bolt locks looking at Stiles. Stiles shook his head.
“Probably not,” he answered fear in his voice. Scott sighed walking up to me, a howl broke the silence and we all looked at each other, the sound sending a chill down my spine causing goosebumps to rise on my skin that hair on the back of my neck standing up.
“I knew I should have stayed home,” I frowned at the both of them, my anxiety was starting to bubble over. “You two just have to drag me into these things!”
“Is this really the time Kac?” Scott pulled my hand as we took off down the hall running to an opened classroom door. I sat down on one of the desks as they went over to the teacher's desk starting to move it.
“Uh guys,” They stopped looking over at me, “That’s not going to stop it,”
“She’s right,” Stiles agreed, staring at the open classroom door, “I hate your boss,”
“What?” Scott asked in confusion
“Deaton, the alpha? Your boss,” Stiles responded pointing over at Scott, Scott shook his head
“No way.”
“Yes! Murdering psycho werewolf,” Stiles was getting more freaked out by the second and I couldn’t blame him I was too. I had no desire of dying in school. Of all the places.
“That can’t be!” Scott argued
“Oh, come on Scott!” Stiles whispered but his voice raised in annoyance and fear at the end, “He disappears, and that thing shows up ten seconds later to toss Derek 20 feet through the air?”
“I hate to say it, but he has a point Scott,” I muttered looking up at Scott, Scott shook his head still not believe that it could be the town veterinarian.
“No, it’s not him,”
“He killed Derek,” Stiles pointed out
“No Derek’s not dead, he can’t be dead,” I groaned walking over to Scott
“He had a fist through his chest Scott, he seemed pretty dead,” I argued leaning up against the desk, Scott took a few breaths before looking up at Stiles and me.
“What do we do?” Scott asked, I look over at Stiles and he frowned clearly not liking his own idea.
“We get to my jeep and we get out of here,” He moved around the desk walking over to the classroom windows. I was right behind him making sure to stay low from the windows. Scott went to open the window before Stiles stopped him.
“They don’t open,” He answered Scotts unasked question
“Then we break it,” He suggested, I scoffed
“And let it know where we are? Good idea,” I looked around the lot spotting Stiles Jeep
“Then we run really fast?” Scott looked out into the parking lot before squinting his eyes, I follow his gaze seeing what he was seeing. The hood of Stiles jeep was smashed up.
“Stiles, what’s wrong with the hood of your jeep?” Scott asked
“What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong with it,” I shook my head pointing at the Jeep
“Stiles the hood is bent,” I pointed at the Jeep and he came up next to me looking at the Jeep
“Dented?” He panicked trying to see what we could see
“No, bent,” I confirmed and then something came bursting through the window, I screamed ducking down and Stiles followed holding me close to him cover my head with his hands to block the shattered glass from hitting my face. Something hit the floor skidding across it. I opened my eyes lifting my head slowly to see a car battery on the floor. I shook my head.
“That’s my battery,” Stiles went to get up, but Scott grabbed him pulling him back down.
“We have to move,” He panicked
“He could be right outside,” Scott whispered
“He is right outside!” Stiles gestured to his torn-out car battery
“Just let me take a look,” Scott started to slowly rise from the ground, but I stayed seated pulling in my legs gripping them close trying to slow down my breathing.
“Anything?” I heard Stiles ask, a few more moments of silence
“No,” Scott answered, and I felt my shoulders relax a little.
“Move now?” Stiles asked grabbing onto my arm pulling me up with him as Scott nodded and we quickly moved out of the classroom and back into the hall. Scott went to walk down one hall but Stiles stopped him.
“No no no, this way.” Stiles said pointing the flashlight down the other side of the hall, “We need to go somewhere without windows”
“Every single room in this school has windows!” Scott panicked throwing his arms out
“Somewhere with less windows,” Stiles explained further, Scott looked around trying to think before his face brightened a little
“The locker room,” He suggested, Stiles nodded gripping onto my hand as we headed quickly down the hall towards the boy’s locker rooms.
We got the locker rooms shutting the door behind us moving to the second row of lockers to give us some sort of barrier between us and the door. Stiles let go of my hand and I sat down on the bench resting my elbows on my knees as I buried my face in my hands.
“Call your dad,” Scott told stiles
“And tell him what hmm?” Stiles asked
“I don’t know, anything. A gas leak, a fire, whatever. If that thing sees the parking lot filled with cop cars it will take off.” I tried to tune out their conversation to focus on my breathing, My hands were shaking from the adrenalin still rushing through. I took a deep breath trying to focus on something other than being trap in the school with a killer werewolf.
I felt someone shake my shoulder and I looked up to see Stiles smile softly at me offering me his hand. I took it and he helped me stand back up.
“What's the plan?” I whispered as we walked back towards the hallway
“Get the keys to Derek’s car off his body,” He whispered back, something caught my attention and Scott heard it too stopping Stiles hand from opening the door.
“What?” He whispered freaked out at our sudden focus
“There’s something out there,” I answered quietly as the sound got closer now close enough for Stiles to hear, we all stared at the door backing up slowly from it.
“Hide,” Scott demanded, Stiles quickly moved to a locker opening it and getting inside, Scott frowned trying to argue against it but followed suit and then I did as well. I tried to keep my breathing even as I stared out the little slits of the looker door trying to see what was going on.
The door to the locker room opened and I covered my mouth to quiet down my breaths. I squeezed my eyes shut trying not to freak out. Something moved closer to the lockers we were all in and then I heard one of them open and two sets of screams. Wait. A scream? I opened my locker down to see Donnie the school janitor.
“What are you three trying to do, kill me? All of you get out.” He demanded angrily trying to catch his breath
“Donnie, just listen for half a second,” Stiles tried to reason with the startled man “okay?”
“Not okay, get the hell out of here right now,” He grabbed a hold of Scott and started shoving us toward the hall, we got into the hall
“Just one second to explain,” Stiles tried to reason for a second time
“Just shut up and go,” Donnie demanded pointing down the hall for us to leave but I gasped when he was pulled back suddenly, and the door was slammed shut. He was thrown against the door and I screamed seeing splattered blood on the door window as he screamed before he was dragged back down and then thrown against the door again terrified screams coming from the other side. Scott tried to open the door to help him, but it was locked.
Stiles quickly pulled him back grabbing a hold of me in the process as we ran down the hall. We got to and exit and tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Scott peaked through the opening.
“There’s a dumpster,” He said, I groaned kicking the door in frustration. Scott pulled us away heading down another hall.
“This is not happening,” Stiles began to panic “I am NOT dying at school!”
“I second that,” I agreed
“What the hell does it want?” Stiles asked
“Us,” I answered coming to a stop, Scott shook his head gripping my shoulders.
“No, Kac,” He shook his head looking up at me with a sad expression “he wants me, he doesn’t know about you and I want to keep it that way,” I frowned
“You can’t protect me forever,” I whispered, he gave a soft smile
“No, but I can try,” Scott stood up straight and we continued to walk, “Derek says it's stronger with a pack.”
“Oh great, a psychotic werewolf who’s into teamwork that’s – that’s beautiful.” Stiles voice dripping in sarcasm at that last bit. Scott stopped, looking out the window. I looked to my eyes widening seeing the Alpha on the roof watching us through the windows and then slowly it stood up and started to run towards us.
“Shit!” I yelled as we took off back down the hall. I heard glass shatter behind us and hear the growl of the alpha as it slammed against the wall. We ran through the doubles doors that lead to the bottom floor and then moved down to the basement hiding behind some old lockers. We caught our breath before Stiles started pulling me down another hall. There were growls sounding like from everywhere, we stopped in front of a door.
Stiles pulled out his keys slowly throwing them into the room before pushing Scott and I back and then slamming the door shut as the alpha charged in. Scott moved the desk to block the door. The door stopped moving and I sighed letting out a nervous laugh as I slumped against the wall.
“Please tell me it can’t get out,” I breathed not taking my eyes off the door, as if any second it would burst open. Stiles leaned to investigate the tiny gated window on the door. Scott freaked out pulling him back.
“What the hell are you doing?” He whispered angrily
“I want to get a look at this thing,” Stiles answered getting back on the desk peering into the room, he shined the flashlight in
“Yeah that’s right, we got you, you son of-“ Scott got frustrated and pulled him off again
“Will you shut up!”
“It's probably not a good idea to taunt it,” I pointed out, Stiles ignored both Scott and me with a roll of his eyes
“No, I’m not scared of it,” He looked at both of us and I wrapped my arms around myself, “You hear that! I’m not scared of you!” A loud angry growl came from the room and it hit the door making us all jump back and then the sound of chains ripping came through the door. Our eyes went wide as we realized what just happen, I gulped hearing the ceiling crunch above us as it walked above us.
We ran out of there as quickly as possible heading for the staircase to get out of the basement. Scott stopped us suddenly.
“Do you hear that?” He asked, I focused on my hearing and picked up the sound of a cell phone ring. I nodded my head and Stiles shook his head no.
“Who the hell is here, Scott?” I demanded through gritted teeth “I know you know that ring,” Hearing his heart beating rapidly, he nodded confirming my suspicion
“Allison,” He muttered, I scoffed throwing my hands down, “Gimmie your phone,” He put out his hand for Stiles's phone and he quickly pulled it out of his pocket putting it in Scott's hand.
Scott quickly dialed her number and I could hear the ringing again as we continued to walk.
“No, it’s me. Where are you?” Scott asked another second of silence “No, where are you exactly.”
“Tell her to meet us in the lobby,” I whispered, and he nodded telling Allison before hanging up. We ran to the lobby, waiting for Allison to show up
“I can’t believe this, why is she here Scott?” I muttered in annoyance; I could feel my heart rate begin to rise as anger seeped into my already overflowing emotions. The doors on the other side opened and for a moment panicked rushed through me but settled when Allison came walking in.
“What are you doing here?” Scott demanded walking up to her, I stood next to Stiles as tension flooded the room.
“Because you asked me to,” She answered confused
“I asked you to?” Scott questioned, they both stared at each other confused. Allison looked down at her phone pulling up the text that clearly said it was from Scott. She turned the screen to show him. He looked down at it then back up at her not hiding his worried expression.
“Why do I get the feeling you didn’t send this message?” She asked fear in her eyes now
“Because I didn’t,” Scott answered
“Did you drive here?” Stiles interrupted walking up to the couple I moved with him
“Jackson did.” We looked at her all of our eyes going wide
“Jackson’s here too?” Scott asked in disbelief
“Well that would mean Lydia is too,” I said, and Allison nodded in confirmation
“What’s going on?” her voice raised from both confusion and fear, her phone started to ring and she answered it
“Where are you?” she asked the person on the phone, then the other doors to the lobby opened and in walked Lydia and Jackson. Allison and Lydia hung up their phones as they walked over to us.
“Finally,” Lydia breathed “Can we go now?” Allison nodded and then a heavy thud came from above us. I felt my whole body tense up and Stiles was quick to grab hold of my hand. The sound moved around above us before Scott yelled to run and we all took off.
The alpha fell from the ceiling right on the spot we were all standing as we headed up the stairs to the next floor. It roars right behind us as we ran. We ran into the cafeteria and Scott and Jackson we’re quick to bolt the doors shut.
Stiles stared at the windows before trying to get everyone’s attention, but they were too busy moving things in front of the doors.
“Guys!” He finally yelled in frustration that got them to stop and look at him, "really beautiful work guys but now,” He turned towards the windows gesturing to them, “What should we do about the 20-foot wall of windows?”
“Can somebody please explain to me what’s going on, because I’m freaking out here,” Allison’s voice cracked as she tried to hold back tears
“Someone killed the janitor,” I answered after a few moments of silence, Stiles frowned shaking his head at me but I knew we couldn’t say nothing it only looked more suspicious and it's not like we could really tell them what was actually chasing us. 
“Yeah the janitor is dead,” Stiles backed me up finally
“What is he talking about? Is this a joke?” Allison asked with a nervous laugh looking over at Scott who was leaned up against a stack of chairs facing away from us
“Who killed him?” Jackson asked looking between Stiles and I
“No no no no,” Lydia stammered “The mountain lion was killed,”
“Don’t you get it?” Jackson said to her “This wasn’t a mountain lion,”
“Who was it!” Allison demanded, “What does he want?” I looked over at Scott who was still slumped against the chairs trying to think of what to say, I was racking my brain too.
“Scott!” Allison yelled trying to get him to turn around and answer her. I ran my hands through my hair holding the back of my head
“I don’t know!” He answered finally “I just- I – if we go out there, he’s gonna kill us,”
“Who?” Allison asked looking over at Stiles and I, I shook my head walking over to the windows sliding down the wall with my head in hands, “Who is it?” I heard Allison demand. I felt hands on mine making me jump. I looked up to see Stiles giving me a soft smile, moving my hands from my hair holding them in front.
“What the hell do we do?” I whispered searching his eyes for answers, he frowned shaking his head
“I don’t know,” He whispered back
“It’s Derek,” Scott announced making both Stiles and I shoot up from the floor, “It’s Derek Hale,” I walked over to Scott and he shot me a look telling me to back off and I reluctantly held my tongue.
“Derek killed the janitor?” Jackson asked staring at Scott
“Are you sure?” Allison asked
“I saw him,” Scott answered
“I have a bad feeling about this,” I muttered under my breath bouncing on my heels from nerves
“He started with his own sister,” Scott continued
“And the bus driver?” Allison asked Scott nodded his head
“And the guy in the video store. It’s been Derek the whole time,” Scott still didn’t turn to face us probably trying to hide this huge lie that he was spitting out. “He’s in here with us, and if we don’t get out now, he’s going to kill us too” He finally turned to face everyone.
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ceceliadx · 4 years
Text
Second Chance at First Line
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Word Count: 5512
Stiles x OC
Warnings: Swearing
Davina’s POV      
I’m still waiting at the school for my dad to pick me up while I try to think of why Scott is so scared of Allison’s father. I mean it could just be the fact that he is dating his daughter, or at least trying to date her, but it seemed to be more than that by the look on his face when he saw Mr Argent. I see my dad’s car pull up to the school and decide to leave that situation for another day. I open the car door and get in.
“Hey mija, how was school?” my father turns to me and asks before driving away from the school and on to the main road.
“Yeah it was good, how about work? Is the new job treating you well?”
“Work was good, umm, the sheriff's station was quiet today, was mostly just doing paperwork.”
“That’s good.” I reply, my mind still distracted by what went on at the school. The car ride home then turns silent between me and my dad the music from the radio being the only sound filling the car.
We arrive home a little while later and I head upstairs to my room to start my homework. I sit down at my vanity and take out all my books, notepads and pens to begin. I sit there for about half an hour but my mind just doesn’t want to focus on the maths homework which is due for tomorrow. 
My mind was doing what it does best. Overthinking about situations. When Allison told me that a guy called Derek gave her a lift home from the party I couldn’t believe it, but when she told me that he was a ‘friend of Scotts’ I was beyond confused. Why is he hanging around with a teenager? He wasn’t an Alpha, well he wasn’t the last time I saw him anyways. And he isn’t the most, what would you call it, sociable person in the world. Not with people who he isn’t close to. 
Growing up, my parents were close with Talia Hale, which meant we spent a lot of time with the Hales. Talia was an Alpha and a very powerful one. She was able to transform into an actual wolf. Her kids Laura, Derek and Cora were like older siblings to me and my brother as we were about 10 when they were teenagers. They used to visit us all the time in Virginia before we moved to Mexico. Virginia was where I spent most of my childhood , it was there were me and Damien learned control, it was there we learned that we couldn’t let the animal side of us take control, it was there I got my blue eyes. The Hale’s understood my blue eyes. Especially Derek and Peter, as they also had blue eyes. They both helped me through the grieving. I was always closer to Derek as Peter could be quite manipulative. Don’t get me wrong Derek had his faults but I always trusted him more. Peter will not do anything for anyone unless he gets something in return. But that doesn’t mean he deserved what happened to him in the house fire. When me and my family moved to Mexico, we didn’t see the Hales as much which was understandable. The house fire had already happened and most of them were dead, including Talia. Peter was hospitalised as he was badly burned and had gone into a self-induced coma. I have no idea if he’s any better yet. I don’t even know what hospital he would be at. So now I’m guessing Derek and Peter were the only ones who survived the fire.
I hear the front door open meaning Damien must be back from lacrosse practice. I then hear him race up the stairs which brings me out of my thoughts, he frantically runs into my room, knocking boxes over as he tries to stable himself. For a born werewolf you wouldn’t think he would be clumsy but hey, that’s my twin.
“Scott completely lost control today at practise you should have seen him, god it was bad, I mean it didn’t look that bad to everyone else and no one really saw anything but, I could feel what was happening to him, also he’s fucked up Jackson’s shoulder by crashing into him, Stiles took him away from the field before anything else could happen thank god. Oh! And your not gonna believe me when I tell you that Derek was there, just watching the whole thing happen but I don’t think he recognised me-”
“Wait Derek was there?!” I cut him off from his rambling.
“Yes, he was just standing there watching Scott, do you think Derek did that to him, do you think he was the one who bit him?” 
“No, it can’t be him, Derek isn’t an Alpha. I mean I know we haven’t seen him in a few years but, I mean it can’t be.” In disbelief I start questioning if it can really be Derek. There is only one way to find out. 
“Damien, we need to find Derek.”
“Okay and how the hell are we gonna do that huh?” he declares, looking at me like I’m crazy.
“Tomorrow we find Scott at school and tell him about us. He needs people right now who have been through what he’s going through, he has no idea about what the full moon can do and how to control it. He needs people that he can trust.”
“Do you honestly think he’s gonna trust us? Dee, we just moved here, we need to be careful with who we become friends with. Y’know just telling people about us isn’t an easy thing!” he responds still looking at me like I’m completely insane.
“He can’t go through this alone. I won’t let him. Imagine if we had no one Damien. We wouldn’t be in control like we are now. Also, Scott is our best way to get to Derek. As you said Derek was on the field watching him and at Lydia’s party he gave Allison a lift home and said to her that ‘he was a friend of Scott’s” that means something.”
Damien looks at me for a minute and nods, agreeing with me. He leaves my room and I get back to doing my maths homework. An hour later, I’ve finished everything I need for tomorrow and I get ready for bed. I have no idea how tomorrow’s gonna turn out but fingers crossed it goes well. 
…..
Me and Damien walk into school together going over the plan of how we tell Scott as we haven’t prepared what we were going to say to him. Also we didn’t know how we were going to get him alone as he’s always with Stiles. Personally I think Stiles knows so it shouldn’t be a problem telling him also. But Damien is scared about telling people because he’s scared of what it means. Telling people about us completely changes not only their lives but ours also. The more people who know, the bigger the risk of not only hunters finding us but other supernatural creatures.
We walk through the doors and I start to speak about the plan
“Okay after math class meet me outside my locker, well go over, grab him and just tell him everything, okay umm, I don’t really know how else we go about it so, let’s just wing it, okay, sound good?” I turn round to Damien who has a look of uncertainty on his face. 
“Does that sound go-, just wing it! Your kidding right?!” he laughs while my face still reads ‘no i’m serious’.
“I’ll think about it okay, this is my first time doing this, I don’t really have any idea what I’m doing but, I mean what do we have to lose huh? Anyways, I need to get to class so I’ll see you later okay?” after he nods I turn back round and head up the steps. I pass Allison and give her a quick hello and a smile. I see her stop and speak to Scott and I’m tempted to go and tell him everything now, but Damien isn’t here and would probably have a fit if I did that, so I head to my first class instead.
The day so far has gone okay but now I have math class and I still have no plan on how to tell Scott. I guess me and Damien are really just gonna have to wing it. As I’m sitting working through the questions we had to do, I’m distracted by Scott and Lydia who are at the chalkboard at the front of the class answering an equation. I decided to use my werewolf hearing to listen to what they are talking about.
“Why is there a rumour going around that you’re not playing tomorrow?” Lydia asks while keeping her gaze on the equation in front of her.
“Because I’m sort of not” Scott sighs, 
“I think you sort of are” Lydia sarcastically responds “especially when you brutally injured my boyfriend by ramming into him” I’ve never heard Lydia speak like that before, she sounds like a bitch but I have been told that she is the queen bee at school. 
“He brutally injured himself ramming into me!” Scott snapped back.
“Jackson’s gonna play tomorrow, but he’s not gonna be at his peak, and I prefer my boyfriend at peak performance.”
“Okay!” Scott argues back.
I start to get sick of the conversation as it’s merely just Lydia completely going in on him, so I tune out of it. A couple of seconds later I hear Scott’s heart rate increase slightly, I start to worry as I don’t want anything happening in this classroom like what happened on the field yesterday, I decide to tune back into the conversation as it’s obvious Lydia has said something to rile him up. I only catch the end of the conversation.
“And Scott McCall can stay home surfing the net for porn.” Lydia grins at Scott. She finishes her equation on the board, rubs her hands, turns round and struts back to her seat. She passes me and gives me a smile which I return. I focus my gaze back on the board and I’m shocked that she got the equation right. Whenever I’m around her she seems to act stupid, hopefully she isn’t doing it for Jackson. She deserves better than that asshole. 
“Mr McCall, you are not even close to solving your problem.” the teacher huffs out to Scott who is still standing at the board.
“Tell me about it.” Scott mumbles out quietly.
…..
The bell rings for the end of class, I pack up my stuff as quickly as possible and meet Damien at my locker as promised. I open my locker and put all of my books in it and close it. We look over at Scott’s locker and he’s not there. I start to look around and immediately spot Stiles and Scott crouched behind a wall. I slap Damien on the chest and point over to them. Damien’s eyes follow to where my fingers points, he looks at me and nods before we both head over to speak to them. Here goes nothing. Just before we get to them I hear them talking and I decide to slow my movements so I can listen to what they’re saying.
“We can’t exactly tell your dad the truth about Derek.” As Scott says this, I put my arm out in front of Damien to slow his movements down.
“I can do something.” Stiles responds, I can hear the irritation in his voice.
“Like what”
“Find the other half of the body.” Stiles stated before he turns around and walks away from Scott.
What the hell does he mean by ‘other half of the body’? And why would Derek be involved with that? The Derek I knew doesn’t kill innocent people. Jesus! I mean it’s a part of his family’s motto! Damien and I stopped to give each other a look and when we turned back Scott wasn’t there. We looked around and saw that he was over by Allison. I can’t risk telling Scott when he’s with her. She doesn’t need to get caught up in the world of supernaturals.
“Great there’s no chance we’re going to be able to tell him now.” Damien groans.
“Lets just follow him.” I mumble without even looking back to see if he agrees with me.
 I see Allison storm away from Scott, he’s obviously pissed her off, he seems to be getting good at that lately. But who can blame him. He is keeping a massive fucking secret that is pretty much taking over his life. Scott then huffs out angrily and runs out of the school. He’s furious but that doesn’t stop me following him.
I’m currently running after Scott who is on his bike riding through Beacon Hills Preserve. Alone. As Damien thought I was insane that I wanted to follow him. I haven’t been out to these woods yet so I have no idea what’s going to be here. This is making me realise I really need to start exploring more, especially this new town. Scott finally stops outside of a half burned down house. This has to be the Hale house, there’s no question about it. I stay behind a little so I’m not spotted by Scott. He starts shouting Derek’s name and I begin to feel nervous. I haven't seen Derek in years. I don’t even know if he would recognise me if he saw me. I hid behind a tree and kept my distance but not too much that I couldn't hear what they were talking about. 
“Stay away from her! She doesn’t know anything!” Scott shouts angrily as Derek walks towards him. He’s definitely kept up the fitness and he’s taller than the last time I saw him. 
“Yeah? What if she does? You think that your little buddy Stiles can just google werewolves and now you’ve got all the answers is that it? You don’t get it Scott but I’m actually looking out for you. Think about what could happen, your out on the field, the aggression takes over and you shift in front of everyone! Your mom, all of your friends and when they see you, everything falls apart.” Derek shouts back at Scott. I mean Derek isn’t wrong. Scott and Stiles don’t know everything yet, especially with the aggression part. It can completely change you.
Derek rips the netting of Scott’s lacrosse stick and then chucks it in the air which Scott swiftly catches. When Scott looks to where Derek was standing a minute ago he sees that he is no longer there. Scott looks around for a bit before he finally decides to leave. I wait till he’s far enough away so he can’t hear me and then I walk towards the house. I stop right in front of the house and all of a sudden it’s like a wave of emotions just overcomes me. My mind plays memories of me, Damien and the Hales and I feel tears brimming my eyes. I quickly wipe my eyes before the tears fall. I’m not that much of an emotional person but remembering the Hales and how good they were to my family I just feel sad. Sad that I couldn’t do anything to help them when their house got caught on fire. Before it gets a bit too much for me, I turn to walk away when the scent of blood catches in my nose. I look over at the ground where I could smell it from and I see freshly dug dirt. What the hell have you done Derek?
…..
I decided to go back home for a while as I didn’t want Derek to find me outside his house. My mind just wouldn’t let me believe that Derek would do that. Anyways, when I got home I updated Damien on what happened. I told him about how he was trying to look out for Scott and then just totally disappeared. I told him about the blood that I smelt when I was there and what looked to be a DIY grave made for whoever was under it. No matter how much I tried to forget about the blood that I smelled, I couldn’t. Would Derek really kill an innocent person? It wasn’t how he was brought up, so maybe the person under that dirt really deserved it? But even then I couldn’t imagine Derek doing something like that. Enough is enough. I can’t keep sitting here and let my mind drive me insane. I decided that I was going to go back out there and see for myself. I slipped on my combat boots, my leather jacket, a beanie and a pair of gloves. As I was getting ready to sneak out there’s a knock at my door. Damien walks in and as soon as he sees me he raises his eyebrow and sighs.
“Dee, seriously? Do you honestly think Derek is capable of doing something like this? Killing someone innocent?”
“I don’t know, that's why I have to go see for myself before I go out of my mind. So, are you coming with me or are you just gonna stand there and watch me leave?” I question him, turning to look at him with my hand on my hip. He runs out of my room and returns a minute later with his shoes and a jacket on. We sneak out of the window carefully as our mom and dad were home and they would be pissed if they knew we snuck out. We jumped down from the roof and started running, leading the way to Derek’s house.
Once we arrive at Derek’s house a familiar scent catches my nose but I can’t tell who it is. It’s manly but has a slight peppermint smell to it. As we are walking up I spot a blue Jeep and I pull Damien’s sleeve so we can duck down. He points out to me that it is Stiles Jeep and two questions pop in my mind. Why the hell is he here? And is that really his scent because, wow it is amazing! Before I get too distracted, I shake myself from my thoughts and notice that Scott is with him and they are both carrying shovels and flashlights. Scott must’ve caught the scent of blood as well when he was here earlier.
“Wait something’s different.” Scott says while he looks around, pointing the flashlight to make sure he doesn’t see anyone. When he says that I know exactly what he means. Something is different? But I have no idea what it is.
“Different how?” Stiles questions.
“I don’t know.” Gotta agree with you there Scott
“Let’s just get this over with.” Scott sighs before he digs his shovel into the dirt.
I slap Damien on the back, motioning him to get up and follow me. Before we let them dig more of the dirt up we walk up behind them. Scott must’ve heard us as he turns around in defence mode, as Stiles just jumps when he sees us. 
“Davina!? Damien!? What the fuck are you guys doing here?” Scott shouts at us.
Without giving him an explanation, I turn to him and say “I smelt the blood too. I followed you earlier on and decided to come back, I guess you had the same idea huh?” I chuckle at the end. Scott and Stiles just look at me with confused faces.
Damien and I look at them at the same time and shine our eyes. Damien’s being the golden yellow orbs and mine being the crystal blue. 
“You guys are werewolves too!? Great, this is just great. But your eyes are blue? Like Derek’s. Why are they blue?” Stiles blurted out, directing his question to me.
“Story for another day. Can we help you guys? I just need to know if Derek would actually do something like this.” I responded.
“Wait, you guys know Derek? Scott questions, looking between me and Damien.
“Yeah, he’s a family friend, we’ve known him for years, that’s why we need to know if he really did this or not.” Damien replies, walking past them to look at the ground.
“I promise, I’ll tell you guys anything you want to know but, I don't think we have much time until he gets back and trust me, I don’t think you want to see Derek pissed off.” I tell them, giving them both a smile. They agree for us to help them, so I walk past them and thank them.
Stiles and Scott start digging while me and Damien just use our claws to dig up the dirt. Let me tell you, getting dirt underneath the nails is not the best feeling in the world. Scott’s voice brings me out of my thoughts.
“This is taking way too long.” he says while shovelling the dirt, getting into the hole that we have dug out.
“Just keep going.” Stiles responds breathing heavily.
“What if he comes back!” Scott shouts, getting more worried by the minute.
“Then we get the hell out of here.”
“What if he catches us?”
“I have a plan for that.”
“Which is?” Scott questions.
“You run one way, I run the other, they run another, who ever he catches first too bad.” Stiles says, obviously without thinking as he’s surrounded by 3 werewolves with super strength and more abilities than a human could ever have.
“I hate that plan.” Scott replies, obviously not thinking the same way I am.
Stiles suddenly hits something hard with his shovel and shouts at us to stop digging. We begin to brush away the small bits of dirt that is still left covering what looks to be some sort of material that is binded by rope. The rope being in tight knots, Stiles tries to loosen them but fails. I get distracted by his fingers for a bit but then realise we’re on a bit of a time crunch. I move his hands away and begin untying the knots. As soon as I get all the knots loose, we open up the material to see that there is a dead wolf’s head there. Scott and Stiles scream and jump out of the hole, while me and Damien examine the wolf. That’s what was buried there all along? A wolf’s head? I can’t believe I even thought that Derek would kill someone.
“What the hell is that!?” Stiles screams
“It’s a wolf.” Me, Damien and Scott reply back in sync.
“Yeah, I can see that, I thought you said you smelled blood? As in human blood.” Stiles questions.
“I told you something was different.” Scott answers back.
I add in “I smelt human blood earlier on too, but when you said there was something different, I smelt it as soon as I got here. I just didn’t know what it was.” Directing my comment to Scott.
“This doesn’t make sense.” Stiles states, waving his hand around.
I start to feel a buzz coming from my jacket pocket. I take out my phone and I see my mom's name.
“Shit! Damien it’s mom we better go.” I say quickly, not wanting to keep my mom waiting.
“Right yeah okay, umm, so we’ll see you guys tomorrow for the game?” Damien replies and questions the boys.
“Yeah we’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Scott stuttered before waving at us.
“Umm, Stiles you have my number so text me if you find anything else.” I say, not waiting for an answer, Damien and I start running home on all fours. Where mother goose is waiting to give us a lecture.
……
When I wake up the next morning, I reach over to grab my phone which is on my nightstand and I see that I have a few text messages from Stiles. Apparently, after Damien and I left they found wolf’s bane which was attached to rope that circled around the wolf’s head, but after Stiles had collected all the rope the wolf's head had turned into the other half of the girls body that was found in the woods. So Derek had killed another werewolf and buried her? Something doesn’t seem right here. Anyways, Stiles said that he had called his dad and told him that they had found the body outside Derek’s house which meant that Derek would be going to jail. I couldn’t help but feel bad for Derek. Once again I couldn’t help him. I didn’t respond to Stiles text messages so I put my phone on charge and decided to finish off some homework before the lacrosse game started tonight.
It’s a couple of hours before the game so I start to get ready. I take a quick shower and leave my hair dry. I sit down at my vanity, still with my towel on and start curling my hair, half way through doing that I get a text from Allison.
‘Hey Dee! Please sit with me at the game tonight? My dad pretty much just invited himself and I really just wanted to go alone, but I guess that’s not gonna happen :(xx’
I chuckle at her message and reply back
‘Hey Ally, of course I’ll sit with you. My parents are coming too so you’ll have to sit with them as well unfortunately aha. I’m pretty sure Lydia will sit with us xx’
I get a response back a few seconds later
‘They can’t be as bad as my dad aha! See you soon!xx’
I put my phone back down and finished curling my hair. I applied a little bit of make-up and then went to my closet to pick out my outfit. I decided to wear a grey long sleeved shirt, black skinny jeans, black heeled boots and my beloved black leather jacket. I look in the mirror and smile before I grab my phone and a pair of gloves and then head downstairs. I meet my mom and dad in the kitchen and we head out to the car and drive to the high school. 
Once we get to the high school we go to the lacrosse field and up on to the stands to get a seat. I see Allison and her father walking over to us and I give them a wave so they know to come over and join us. Allison sits next to me and pulls me in for a hug and we start small talk. I look over to see my parents making small talk with Mr Argent. I’m glad to be making some girl friends. I see Damien sitting on the bench getting padded up, when he turns round and sees me I give him a smile and a quick thumbs up to wish him luck on the game. I then see Scott and Stiles walking over to the bench, they both are looking at me and Allison and I give them a smile wishing them luck too. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little bit worried about Scott. Lydia joins us as she sits next to Allison and looks over to me and smiles. The ref blows the whistle and the game begins.
The game is going well so far, I mean Scot hasn’t tried to kill anyone yet so that’s good. But Scott also hasn’t made one pass during this game yet. Scott then sees the ball on the ground and runs towards it but gets rammed in the shoulder by one of the players on the same team. I look to see who it is. Jackson. That asshole. Jackson gets the ball off the ground and runs to the goal and scores. Everyone stands up and cheers, which I have to force myself to do. Lydia grabs a sign from underneath her seat and asks Allison to help her hold it. I looked at the sign which read ‘WE LUV U JACKSON’ Scott notices it which makes Stiles turn around on the bench and read it. Me and Stiles look at each other and both share the same thought. Brutal.
I can tell that Scott’s starting to get angry. Scratch that. I can hear his heartbeat increasing by the second. Fuck. This isn’t good. My eyes divert from Scott over to Jackson and my brother who seem to be in some sort of disagreement. Jackson argues with him and tells him not to pass the ball to Scott. Damien tries to argue back but Jackson cuts him off and walks away. Damien turns round to Scott knowing he heard and gives him a ‘sorry’ look and a shrug and then walks away to start playing again. I’ll say it once and I’ll say it again. Jackson. Asshole.
…..
The game finishes as Scott shoots the winning goal. He definitely used his wolf powers after hearing what Jackson said to my brother but, he completely turned the game around which in turn made us win. We all run out to the field to congratulate the team, mine and Allison’s hands are linked as we stop and look for Scott. Allison sees him run off and she runs off after him giving me a short apology for leaving me. I see my brother talking to my family and tell myself that I will congratulate him later. I see Stiles still sitting on the bench while his dad is on the phone so I decide to go join him. 
“Hi” I smile at him, sitting down beside him.
“Hey Dee”
“Good game huh? I’m glad that Scott didn’t hurt anyone on the field. I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done if he did.” I reply
“Yeah, that would’ve made the game very horrible, how did you even know that Scott was a werewolf, what do you want from him?’ He questions me.
“I knew since the first moment in class, it was when he gave Allison a pen and she only mentioned that she forgot one when she was outside on the phone before we got into class. Also I think we can just sense each other. Me and Damien are born werewolves so we’ve lived with this our whole life, and I don’t want anything from Scott actually, I wanna help him. Y’know with the control and stuff. I can’t imagine what it’s like without help and I just want him to know that he can trust me.” I assured.  
His dad then came up to him and asked him to talk with him for a minute. I don’t listen in as I want to give them their privacy. After speaking with his dad, Stiles runs up to me and asks me to follow him as we head down to the locker rooms. 
When we get to the locker rooms Stiles runs ahead and stops all of a sudden as he sees Allison and Scott kissing. He pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me so we don’t interrupt them. Hello butterflies. A couple of seconds later we hear Ally’s voice. 
“Dee, Stiles” She gives us a wave and then rushes out. Both Stiles and I give her an awkward wave back and I walk out from his arms even though I didn’t want to.
“I kissed her” Scott begins, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“We saw” Stiles replies.
“She kissed me”
“We saw that too” I answer this time, smiling at him.
“It’s pretty good huh?” Stiles questions
“I-I-I don’t know how but I controlled it, I pulled it back. Maybe, maybe I can do this, maybe it’s not that bad” Scott replies.
“Yeah, we’ll talk later then” Stiles sigh’s, he pats Scott on the shoulder and turns to leave but before he could me and Scott both grab his jersey. 
“What?” Scott asks
“The ah medical examiner looked at the other half of the body we found”
“And” Me and Scott both urge him to continue
“Well I’ll keep it simple, medical examiner determines killer of the girl to be an animal not human. Derek’s human not animal. Derek not killer. Derek let out of jail.”
“Are you kidding!?” Scott exclaims obviously not happy with the outcome.
“No and here’s the bigger kick in the ass. My dad ID’d the dead girl, both half's, her name was Laura Hale.” Stiles says looking between me and Scott.
“Hale!” Scott shouts
“Derek’s sister” Me and Stiles say at the same time. I feel tears brim at my eyes. I feel both of the boys' eyes on me.
“I’m sorry, I have to go” My voice breaks while speaking. Before either one of them could answer I ran out of the room. I can hear Stiles' voice in the distance shouting on me to stop but I can’t. I just keep running while the tears keep falling. 
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clansayeed · 4 years
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Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 5: Every Elite
PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature
⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽
⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽
Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.
Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].
Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.
*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!
⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽
When the Pack refuses to help them Taylor and Ryder turn to the lone wolf Cal as a last resort. He’s happy to provide for a simple favor: break into New Orleans’ most exclusive supernatural club to save his little brother from a fate worse than death. Easy, right? If only.
[READ IT ON AO3]
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Taylor’s craft is made to be seen. He’s never been one of those types of actors who needs to imagine the entire audience empty to perform at his best. In fact, the larger the crowd the more he feels like they’re a mass of bodies and heartbeats than individuals he’s there to perform for.
The audience swells and becomes one single, solid beating heart — one mind and one capacity for emotion that he’s there to bring out. That’s his talent.
But he has a great respect for those who prefer the silence and solitude to hone their skills. They aren’t performing for anyone but themselves — improving despite the temptation to stay stagnant for their own sakes.
The piano player is one such artist. He’s no performer — no showman. Taylor’s pretty sure the man doesn’t even know he has a sole audience. Yet he keeps playing; rapid keystrokes never faltering to break the miasma of humidity that hangs over them.
He cuts into the world with his playing and knows the spaces left aren’t empty, but rather filled with melody.
Either the song — not one he recognizes — ends or the man simply decides to stop playing. Either way the tune ends abruptly; a life cut short. And he’s so taken by how it resonates in his chest that he does the only logical thing and applauds.
The piano player swings a denim-clad leg over the stool; stares at Taylor like a startled animal.
He probably shouldn’t have announced himself so loudly.
“S-Sorry if I scared you.”
The look he’s given — the threat assessed and deemed non-threatening — is definitely unimpressed.
“Yeah that’s… definitely not what happened.” Like the rest of the wolves the man inhales deeply through his nostrils. Unlike the rest of them he manages a bit of tact and doesn’t noticeably recoil. “Jesus, you smell like…”
“A hot mess, yeah I’ve been told.”
That gets a laugh and the man’s full attention — long legs swinging around away from the piano with elbows resting on jeans that have definitely seen better days. He’s the polar opposite of everything in the trophy room; nothing fancy about him except for his obvious skill with the piano.
It’s kind of nice for someone else to stick out like a sore thumb for a change.
“Nah, that ain’t it — well not all the way.” He sniffs again with his face tilted up into the air and Taylor really really tries not to laugh. Doesn’t know if he’ll somehow offend the entire Pack or something if he does. Ryder really should have given him the low-down…
“You smell like…”
Taylor waits for an answer but none comes. Sees the way the working man’s tan seems to drain from his face and leave behind something strange; almost haunted in his eyes.
Suddenly he really wishes he’d just gone with Ryder.
“Never mind.” Taylor tries to back track — moves to get up and hang out by the bottom of the stairs instead. But there’s a hand that stops just short of grabbing him that makes them both tense up.
Now he looks like the frightened animal.
“I offended you.” It’s not a question.
“What’s there to be offended about?”
The piano player brushes aside one of his mousy brown curls; looks Taylor in the eyes with such a startling honesty that he’s pretty sure his heart stops beating for a second.
“I don’t know,” is the measured reply, “you tell me.”
Well that isn’t happening, so… “Tell me what you were gonna say.”
The wolf leans back — gives them both some space. Shrugs and seems almost sheepish instead.
“A-ha… well I was gonna say you smell like my little brother. Then I realized how weird that sounded since, y’know, I’m pretty sure we’ve never met before. One of those ‘quit while you’re ahead’ things.”
He rubs the back of his head. Shoulders hunched and a measly half-smile that’s disarmingly charming. Sure Taylor’s still confused (even more so now) but it’s better than the assumed alternative.
But he does turn away from the door at the very least.
“Gonna tell me exactly how that works?”
“What d’you mean?”
“How I, uh, smell like your little brother?”
“Well puberty ain’t exactly a science to the nose.”
Puberty. God, he actually laughs. Feels even more ashamed about the obvious sweat stains on his underarms but given where they are it’s not the worst of the multiple stenches in the air.
The man continues on a borderline ramble; “And I’m gonna go ahead and assume most people wouldn’t want to be compared to a pre-pubescent teenager, you know? So then I really didn’t wanna say anything.”
It’s the most genuine interaction he’s had since all of this began — and he didn’t know how much he needed it until now. Ivy, Garrus, Krom; they were all so so great but they loved talking about it all; loved delving into the things weird and strange that Taylor was still trying to wrap his head around.
But sniffing put aside there’s nothing more casual than not knowing what to say in front of a cute guy. Talk about your ordinary problems.
“Cal — by the way — Cal Lowell.”
Taylor takes Cal’s offered hand in that usual way — pressing just a little too hard to affirm his masculinity that he’s so often okay with shrugging away from the surface. It’s how men — and Southern men especially — interact. He’s kind of an expert on the matter.
But Cal’s grip is stronger than other men. Something Taylor just accepts along with the almost sizzling heat of his body radiating from just the palm. Must be a werewolf thing.
“Taylor Hunter.”
“Who brought you along for the party, Taylor?”
Man it’s nice to hear his name instead of ‘kid.’ “Oh, actually —”
His reply is drowned out by the sudden slam of a door above them; followed by thundering footsteps and shouts that were quickly becoming not-so-muffled.
“I knew you were stupid, Ryder, but if you think I’m just gonna push all you done aside and let you come onto my territory demandin’ favors you’ve got less brain in ya than I thought!”
“Christ, Kristof, tuck your damn tail and listen to me, will ya?!”
Cal squeezes a little too hard — makes Taylor yank his hand away. But when he goes to ask the guy what the hell it looks like he’s staring straight through him.
“Shit,” hisses Cal under his breath; and swerves around Taylor rather than pushing him aside to join the argument quickly approaching them.
The man who must be Kristof is hairy. That’s all Taylor can really think of him at first glance. He’s tall but not Krom-level of tall (his new measurement standard) and wide-set in the shoulders with muscle and scars both old and new criss-crossing one another down his exposed arms.
Add a little white to his bushy beard and he could be a budget-mall Santa, Taylor thinks.
Then he catches Ryder leaping down the steps two at a time to catch up.
“If you weren’t gonna hear me out then why agree to meet with me in the first place?” snaps the Nighthunter; teeth grit and knuckles white on the banister.
He’s got height on Kristof, being a few steps higher and all, but he might as well be facing down a charging bull with the way the Pack Alpha rounds on him in red-faced fury.
“Figured it was about time you apologized for what you did to poor Jimbo,” and the fact he isn’t shouting definitely dials the tension up to eleven, “but what’s a lit’le more blood on yer hands?”
Taylor doesn’t have to ask who ‘poor Jimbo’ was. Can get enough from the context. And while he doesn’t want to get involved in something that was before he came along he’s be remiss if he didn’t feel uneasy at the thought of his bodyguard as a killer.
But didn’t that mean he’d kill to keep Taylor safe?
Ryder recoils enough for Kristof to gain the advantage; come up a step so they’re eye-to-eye.
“Don’t you gimme that fake remorse. Not in my home. Ain’t a word in Jimbo’s mem’ry — ‘stead you waltz up in here demandin’ favors?! When you ain’t even got the balls —!”
“Whoa whoa — hey!”
Cal realizes it’s a bad move just a moment too late. Octavia settles her grip on the second floor railing and looks down with a jaw set and proverbial hackles raised. But that’s nothing compared to how Kristof looks at him — goes from red to purple in the face at the mere sight of Cal.
“You stay outta this, boy.”
“Kristof — I just think —”
His reaction has to be purely werewolf. Something real wolves can’t imitate but humans could never understand. Keeps Taylor enraptured as he starts to realize he’s been thinking about them all wrong; that there is no place where the man ends and the wolf begins — but rather that they’re one in the same.
Kristof’s muscles ripple under thick skin. Something shifts on the stale air like a breeze and in less time than it takes a heart to beat Cal’s backing down with his head to the floor.
Baring the back of his neck.
He’s given Kristof an inch and the Alpha takes a mile. Advances a step just to make sure Cal backs off in a strange and unspoken dance.
“I’d say given your predicament, Lowell, challengin’ your Alpha is the last thing you wanna be doin’.”
Cal doesn’t have to say anything to agree. Even when he raises his head he won’t — or can’t — meet Kristof’s eyes.
Before he does something (else) stupid, Taylor grabs the cuff of Cal’s flannel and pulls him back.
“Best you and your pup leave now, Ryder,” Octavia calls from above, “before you overstay your welcome.”
And Nik, literally a dumbass, looks like he’s about to argue. “Ryder,” Taylor calls — practically pleads, “let’s just go. We’ll find what we need somewhere else.” That doesn’t even matter, he wants to say, but we’re not safe here anymore.
It takes him a second to move around the wall of tension named Kristof; looks like he’s about to call the Alpha out on the power move until Taylor manages to grab hold of him, too, and makes it easy on them both.
Kristof stands silent save his breathing — husky, heavy breaths that fill his lungs and puff out his chest.
“Show ‘em out, Lowell.” Octavia calls when the three of them are already halfway to the front of the cabin. “Then go for a run — clear ya head.”
Not like they’ve already forgotten the way out but it is what it is; a way to diffuse the situation. Judging by the looks of things it’s a role Octavia plays quite often.
Cal’s brought them all the way to the pergola at the property entrance before he finally seems to calm down enough to speak. Looks at Taylor with an apologetic gaze.
“Thanks for that — gettin’ me outta there.”
“Wasn’t any trouble,” though he does throw a look back to Ryder; already busy on his phone and taking out his frustration with every punch to the keys, “thanks for trying to help. I figured out he had history with, uh, the pack, but…”
Cal nods. “Guess you’ve just met him, then?”
“How’d you know?”
“Ryder’s a bit infamous around New Orleans.”
“For being a Nighthunter?”
“For being a dick about being a Nighthunter.”
Like he’s psychic, Ryder barks for Taylor not a moment later; “Come on, kid! We gotta get back to the Shift. It’s gonna be a steep price to pay but Ivy thinks she can get what we need.”
“Coming!” He calls — offers Cal what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah, might go for that run…”
But there’s a distracted distance in his reply. He watches Cal’s focus flicker between him and Ryder behind. “‘Get what you need,’ what’s that mean? You needed somethin’ from Kristof?”
“Oh — yeah. We’re putting together a protection spell I guess.”
“Then you came here for Hunter’s Sage.”
It’s enough to catch Ryder’s ear and haul him over to their conversation. Not that he looks at Cal with any less suspicion but it seems to be a mutual thing.
“What d’you know about Hunter’s Sage?”
“I know it’s a standard ingredient for protection magic,” answers the werewolf, “and I also know it’s one of the few things the Pack keeps locked up tight. Whoever your friend is sayin’ they’ve got access to some — it can’t be local. And we both know if that stuff ain’t fresh your spell’ll be about as protective as a house pet.”
Ryder’s teeth grind audibly. “I’ve seen my share of scary pets.”
“But do you really wanna take that chance?”
Judging by the way he looks at Taylor; Cal wants to help. Might even know a way to do so — but if it means going against his Alpha…
“I don’t want to risk getting you in more trouble,” Taylor says, “especially after what happened back there.”
“Ain’t a risk if there’s a big enough reward.”
And much to Taylor’s surprise — and Ryder’s lack thereof — Cal gives a curt nod. “If I wasn’t in the situation I’m in… I’d offer it to you for the sake of keeping the peace. The Lowell’s have always been in good with the Alpha — he’d huff and puff for a few weeks but eventually forget about it.
“But that ain’t the case at the moment. So if you’re desperate enough for the Sage I’m more than willing to provide it as a payment.”
The hunter and the wolf mirror one another; puff out their chests and cross their arms tight. The fragility of their combined masculinity is so thick Taylor’s at risk of choking on it.
“All right — I’ll bite,” Ryder quirks a brow, “‘payment’ for what?”
Even though the Nighthunter would be the one doing said job it’s Taylor that Cal turns to. The nearest torch flame reflects like a burning passion in his eyes.
“Payment for rescuing my little brother before Kristof has him killed.”
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The door is already open on Cal’s side and that’s the one closest to the curb; so it’s logical for Taylor to follow the tall werewolf out of the cab instead of joining Nik in the middle of the street.
So why does it look like for a brief second Ryder’s irritated that he didn’t?
But the look fades away; goes through Ryder’s barely-expressive version of the five stages of grief as he sees where Cal’s had the cab take them.
“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”
Cal isn’t kidding anyone. “Now you see what I mean.”
From Taylor’s vague mental memory of those first tours he took of the new city he called home they have to be somewhere in the Upper Garden District. Usually the houses are closer together — though no less grand — but the place they’ve been dropped off in front of has its own lot cleared. As if to heighten its importance.
Or its value.
A roundabout of freshly-paved drive circles a fountain made of black iron. Lights reflect on the water and change from the soft yellow of liquid sunlight to deep emerald green and a blue he’s only seen in pictures of the ocean on a cloudless day.
The manor is no less splendid, either. Filled with the old-world charm of New Orleans; her vines of ivy climbing and spreading fingers of foliage across the vast wings and around windows both large and small. But there’s nothing run-down about it. This place is well-kept; well-loved, well-visited.
“All right — run this whole thing by me again now that I know what shit we’re steppin’ in.” Ryder demands without taking his eyes off of the estate.
Cal, on the other hand, can’t bear to look at it.
“Donny’s a good kid. Came into his wolf on time just like everyone else. He’s a whiz at math, too. Maybe that’s why he thought he could gamble — like there aren’t any card-counting hexes on any place of Smoke’s.
“He was just tryin’ to help. If I hadn’t lost my job at the building site…”
When he trails off Taylor reaches out and rests what he hopes is a reassuring hand on a broad shoulder. Cal leans into it — throws back a small but no-less grateful smile. It’s enough for him to continue.
“Whatever happened, he got in deep. One night he’s digging around the trailer for every spare nickel and dime and the next day he’s not waiting for me outside school like he’s supposed to. I went to Kristof about it and — y’know, he’s a good Alpha temper aside; takes care of his Pack — and he put some feelers out. Only they led him to…”
“They led him to Persephone.” answers Ryder, who gives a jerk of his head to the glamorous mansion.
Taylor looks between them. “Anyone gonna explain what Persephone is?”
The gesture Ryder gives at the building isn’t subtle. Nor is the look Taylor gives him because no, really?
“It’s a high-end club for high-end supernatural folks.” Cal tries only to end up getting corrected anyway.
“It’s the club, more like. You can only get in with a signet membership and people have killed for less in this town. It’s no place we wanna go sticking our noses.”
Taylor frowns. “But Donny…”
“Whatever debts he racked up ain’t somethin’ that can go away just as easy. The people who own this place aren’t exactly known for their forgiving nature.”
Beside Taylor, Cal’s knuckles crack one by one as he balls his hands into fists. Ryder shrugs. “I’m just sayin’. It’s a lost cause.”
“Then so will gettin’ your hands on any Hunter’s Sage.” Cal immediately regrets his words when he sees the way Taylor’s face falls; tries to backtrack. “I don’t — I want to help — really I do. You seem like a good guy, Taylor, and if I can help…”
But Taylor isn’t mad at Cal. “I get it. Your family comes first.”
“Exactly.”
“So why’s Kristof gonna maul him?” Ryder asks.
“For mixing the Pack up with the Smoke? He’d put him down just to make an example out of him for anyone else who might try something similar. It’ll be hard to do but being the Alpha isn’t an easy job. Even if he doesn’t kill him outright, the thought of Donny being banished…
“He’s the only family I have.” He’s trying not to seem vulnerable as best he can but his eyes betray him.
Never has there been a more apt time to think the expression looking like a kicked puppy.
Sage or no Sage, Taylor wants to help. Doesn’t know a thing about what he’s getting himself into but when has he ever made consciously smart choices? Ryder, however, seems to be heavily weighing on the pros and cons.
Well, fuck that.
“So how do we get in?”
Nik scoffs in disbelief. “Was I talking to myself when I said —”
“I’m sorry,” he rounds on his bodyguard with hands on hips and spite in his soul, “did I suggest walking in the front door? No. But there’s gotta be another way in. There always is in the movies.”
“This ain’t a movie, Taylor.”
“Well maybe we should start pretending it is.”
At least Cal looks like he’s starting to get on board with the plan. “What did you have in mind?”
It’s like one of the fountain’s color-changing lights sparks atop his head.
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As someone who has never seen a goblin before, Taylor would like to point out what he’s keeping his cool very well. Like, well enough to earn whatever crazy non-alcoholic mixology madness Garrus is no doubt cooking up in his and Ryder’s absence.
Because freaking out wouldn’t help them, now would it? And they could really use all the help they can get.
“I didn’t send out no order for some Bayou filth,” the goblin woman continues on her rampage of scorn, “you must have the wrong address! As if I would serve my guests anything that grew in a local swamp.”
Taylor adjusts the small stack of crates he’s carrying — feels his fingers go numb and quickly moves them back to their aching spot. Better in pain than no feeling at all.
He’s definitely more than a little jealous at how easy Ryder makes his haul look.
“I’ll try not to take offense, ma’am, and for both our sakes I won’t go mentionin’ to my Alpha your little snipe and question of the quality of our goods. But how about you cut a guy some slack? I’m just the delivery.”
Cal’s either done this before or is a natural; lets his accent draw out his words while he oh-so-casually leans in the doorway of Persephone’s delivery entrance. He’s two heads taller than the goblin head chef but that doesn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.
She curls back a green lip in a snarl; reveals a row of large yellow teeth like blunted knives.
“Oh, you’re wantin’ me to cut you slack? When you’re the mangy hound keeping me from finishing a very specific order for a very specific client?”
“Well I can’t go about the rest of my drop-offs until this one is done!”
“And how is that my problem?!”
“I’m making it your problem!” There’s definitely no pretending the ire in Cal’s voice is fake. He pulls a random piece of folded paper out of his back pocket and starts waving it around without actually unfurling it — conveniently right out of the chef’s gnarled green grasp.
“I got a dozen more orders to fill tonight and no room on my truck —” —Cal jerks his thumb behind them but stays right in the goblin’s way; keeps her from looking for what definitely isn’t there— “— for this crap! So let me and my guys drop it off and we’re done!”
“I told you I won’t serve —”
“Christ, woman! You don’t gotta serve it; hell, burn the shit for all I care! I don’t get paid unless I got an empty truck at the end of my route. And you sure as hell ain’t gettin’ paid while arguin’ with me.”
She opens her mouth to argue but the sound of breaking glass and porcelain is the only thing that comes out. Makes her whirl around with a high-pitched and gravelly shriek as she takes in whatever mess as been made.
“You rotten-toothed fools,” she howls, “not the Ming china!”
Thank god for the broken Ming china because any longer arguing and they might have drawn unwanted attention. Well, more unwanted attention.
It’s enough of a tragedy to get the head chef to rush inside without bothering to scold them, send them off, or even shut the door properly. Easily propped open with Cal’s boot.
He holds a hand back to keep them from rushing in — Taylor’s about to very loudly protest when the noise inside starts growing into a full-blown cacophony.
“Now!” He shoulders open the door with just enough space for Nik and Taylor to rush inside, then keeps it from slamming shut as he comes in last.
Only now Taylor’s plan is done and he’s at a loss for how to go forward. Until Cal practically shoves him to follow Ryder along a side hallway out of the kitchen staff — and head chef’s — sights.
Lucky for them that must have been some expensive china because staff of all types, sizes, and goblin-shades rush by them without so much as a ‘hello.’ They test every door in the hallway until they find one unlocked and dump their cargo haul without ceremony.
“So we’re in,” Cal huffs, no doubt heart beating with the same thrill of almost-not-quite-caught that Taylor’s is, “now what?”
“Now we find your brother and get the hell out.”
When he finally catches his breath the werewolf takes a deep breath in — nostrils flaring and eyelids fluttering closed. His nose crinkles slightly, catches the scent of something foul.
“What, what is it?” asks Taylor with worry.
Cal shakes his head. “Someone burned a catfish back there.”
“Focus, Fido.”
If he wants to bite Nik’s head off for the comment he holds it in well. So Taylor smacks a leather-clad arm for him.
They wait — and wait — and wait… but Cal’s shoulders sag in frustration and disappointment. “It’s no use. The kitchen’s messing with my nose. I thought I had him, but…”
“So we just go further in, right?” Taylor grabs for the door but a broad palm stops him in his tracks. Ryder glowers down at him.
“No. We wait until he can catch the scent from back here.”
“What? That’s stupid!”
“Yeah, about as stupid as going out into the ranks of Persephone during Mardi Gras. No signets, no threads; we’ll stick out like sore thumbs.”
“Some of us more than others…” mutters Cal under his breath; not quite soft enough for Nik not to hear.
“We’re not turning back.” And just in case the hunter might be in doubt Taylor yanks the door open; sends him staggering. “Or I’m not, at the very least. So are you gonna come be my body guard or what?”
Not that he gives Nik the chance to answer. Turns on his heel and marches straight out in all his raggedy un-refined glory with Cal the flannel-clad werewolf at his heels.
“I can’t believe this is the job that’s gonna kill me.” Mutters the Nighthunter under his breath — just before he jogs to catch up.
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So far everything he’s come into contact with in this strange new world hasn’t been on the best side of friendly. Why should Persephone be any different?
And for the first time Taylor isn’t let down in the slightest. Not when they manage to slip their way out of the back rooms and onto what must be the main show floor.
The ceiling is all four stories high with a large glowing chandelier shining iridescent gemstone reflections down on every inch of the place. Two winding staircases branch off in different directions with velvet-encased landings on every floor.
All around them bodies lean on railings and various balconies. The floor is an addict’s paradise; no matter the vice. A large circular bar rotates in the middle of the sunken floor while around them dice roll, chips are collected, and cards are thrown down to mixed reactions of cheers and disappointed groans.
But it’s not even the physics-breaking space that’s the most interesting part. It’s the people. Well — if some of them are people, that is.
The collective net worth of the civilized world (and then some) has to be gathered on the diamond-studded (actual. fucking. diamonds) carpeting. They titter along, absorbed in their drinks and wealth and company just like Taylor would expect of an entirely mortal clientele.
Some of them look mortal, too — though he has to remind himself that might not hold true. A woman with bright blue scales for skin brushes past with a giggled “pardonnez-moi!” as she heads to catch a waitress and her tray of mini-somethings.
Some have tails, others talons, and just when he thinks he’s seen it all a bellowing call comes from the top floor and he looks up to see a snow-white swan dive off of the landing and turn into an obsidian crow mid-flight without so much as a fallen feather.
There’s a sudden warmth a this back and Taylor jumps, ready to shove off the offender, only to find Ryder there; leading him through the crowd to a shadowed corner of booths with curtains strung around them.
“You feeling okay?” He asks under his breath.
Taylor nods. “Yeah, why?”
He inches in the round booth until Ryder can comfortably sit beside him — finds himself looking around for any sign of Cal until he spots the wolf’s messy curls shadowing a group of fanged flappers on their way to the floor bar.
The most surprising sight — even with all the magic and delight — is turning to see Nik with concern creased in his forehead. The wrinkles overlapping on his scar awkwardly.
“Ryder, what’s wrong?”
“All this ain’t givin’ you a head-splitting ache?”
It’s such an out-there question — actually succeeds to pull Taylor’s attention away from each new bewildering sight to the very-average and very-mortal face of the man before him.
The bravado’s gone from Nik’s voice; replaced instead with… with some sort of sincerity he’s not used to. Not from him, anyway. Even back at the Graveyard Shift he still found a way to make light of Taylor’s situation and the hard, dark truths he had to learn.
If he didn’t know better, Taylor would dare say the man in front of him isn’t Nik Ryder. But because he hesitates in answering, because he instead chooses to take in the sight before him rather than brush it aside, that openness closes up real quick.
Which version was the real Nik Ryder? Now he wants to know.
“No,” and he places a hand over Ryder’s arm on the tabletop to keep him from letting that be all that’s said, “it’s like you said back at Garrus’, you know? I stopped resisting it and now… I don’t see anything but the truth. Like there isn’t a glamour at all.”
It makes Nik give a soft — almost fond — chuckle.
“‘Course there ain’t. Not in here at least. I may hate the lot of ‘em for their vulgar hoards of cash but even I’ll admit they deserve a place not to have to hide.”
“I didn’t think of it that way.” And when he looks back out to the revelry it’s with a different eye.
After all he knows exactly how hard it is to go through life wearing a mask that can’t even come close to capturing the person underneath it.
“Doesn’t stop the majority of ‘em from being assholes, though.”
“When did Ryder start referring to himself in the third person?”
Cal slides in on Taylor’s opposite side, cocks a half-smirk at Ryder who only manages a grumbled and incoherent (probably for everyone’s benefit) response.
“Did you catch Donny’s scent by the bar?”
The wolf shakes his head no. Pinches the bridge of his nose with eyes squeezed shut. “For a second it was there — like he was right beside me — but just like that it was lost in the herbs they got in the drinks.”
“At least we know that means he’s here.”
“Or was, at least.”
Cal looks up when Taylor nudges his side. “Come on, don’t think like that now. We’re on the right path and, hey, knock on wood but no one’s kicking us out just yet.”
“They should with duds like those. Or didn’t you see the dress code on your way in?”
Nik tenses up beside him; mutters “shit” under his breath but doesn’t have to look around like his companions for the owner of the lilting laugh.
She emerges from around the drawn-back velvet curtain with dark blue gems for skin. No — it takes Taylor a second to realize the dress she wears just clings to her in all the right places before cascading down her legs like a waterfall.
She brushes her hair aside, lets it reveal her face as if parted from a violet veil. There’s nothing inherently inhuman about the woman at first glance — but if anyone could be the definition of deceiving looks its her.
From the looks of things she’s been taking them in with the same level of scrutiny. All but Ryder, whom she doesn’t even spare a passing glance. He leans back in the booth — suddenly far more at ease — and throws an arm around the back.
Her eyes linger on the worn state of Cal’s flannel collar and the wrinkles in Taylor’s tee. “Though I can’t tell if it’s just sad or actually a little genius on your part. One sore thumb is a nuisance but three, well… that’s a statement.”
Ryder’s brow twitches. “What can I say? I live to disappoint.”
“If only you were as good at your job as you were at getting dirt on everything you own.”
“Now that’s funny — since I seem to recall you singin’ my praises when you were butterin’ me up on the Raines job.”
“Compliments get pretty girls like me everything and everywhere, Nik. Or have you forgotten that you did come help me?”
“Problem with you Kathy,” Ryder starts up; looks like he’s ready to tell their new friend all the problems he has with her there and then, “is you always say you’ll split the fare after the job’s done but you’re too busy chasin’ your next lead to actually do it.”
‘Kathy’ rolls her eyes and turns to leave — no, not leave — to flag down a server carrying a full tray of champagne flutes filled with fuzzy pink liquid. “You can just leave that here, thanks.” She croons and waves the girl off like it never happened.
“I’ll admit I got… caught up in a few things once we split. But I give you my word the money will be in your account by tomorrow.”
The look Nik gives her is dangerously shy of ‘why wait, let’s go now’ but he doesn’t. Taylor tries to be an optimist and pretends it’s for Cal’s sake — for his little brother’s sake.
“You’re lucky I’m already on a job,” growls the hunter instead, “or I’d be pushin’ it.”
“And you’d end up waiting regardless. You’re not the only one working here.”
“I don’t even wanna ask what job you’re on in that getup.”
“It’s called blending in.”
The likelihood of their bickering lasting until the end of time, if left to their own devices, is a little too high. They have things to do — a little brother to find. And Cal’s getting antsy in his seat.
“Ryder,” Taylor tries — and fails — to be subtle; what with the wide eyes and the way he keeps jerking his head towards the depths of the lobby, “we gotta. get. going.”
Nik actually waves him off. “Yeah yeah, just a minute.” Then to Kathy; “I can’t figure why it’s takin’ you so long when you’re the one who ended up with the better end of the bargain.”
She scoffs — stops grabbing for one of the drinks on the tray and fixes him with a glare that’s gonna start Trouble with a capital ‘T.’
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
Ryder puffs out his chest, huffs through his nostrils. “Just don’t think you gettin’ Raines to do you a favor measures up when I did most of the work.”
“That’s debatable, from what Kathy’s told me.”
The voice from behind them wouldn’t be nearly as startling if it didn’t come from the woman’s open mouth in a deep baritone.
Their new guest is a tall man in sleek black finery. The silk of his shirt ripples like liquid and when he walks around them to Katherine’s side there’s the tinkle of metal on the tile floor; the silver tips of his shoes make him decorated — quite literally — head to toe.
He crooks his elbow and Katherine slides herself onto his arm like she’s just another piece to his fancy ensemble. “Took you long enough…” She mutters aside.
Instead of apologizing, though, the stranger focuses on the ragtag trio in the booth. “Of course we all know there’s three sides to every argument: his, hers,” he looks away from the bristling Nighthunters to stare at Taylor; to penetrate his soul with bright red eyes, “and the truth.”
Definitely not mortal.
Everything about the way Ryder addresses the man screams recognition. Important, but not important enough to warrant an introduction.
“Cadence,” he almost sneers the name, “didn’t figure Persephone to be your kind of scene.” I thought you were better than that; that’s what hangs unsaid in the air packed to the brim with tension.
Taylor’s eyes travel down to the taller man’s hand where, indeed, the same kind of heavy golden ring rests on his finger. Cadence notices and slyly tucks his hand into his trouser pockets; as if he’s embarrassed by it. When they lock eyes again the red is gone; replaced by dark honey.
But if Nik’s remark is a trap, he doesn’t fall into it. Instead does the opposite of his companion and regards Taylor and Cal like they’re actually a part of the conversation.
“I’ll assume you didn’t come in through the front door; kudos to whatever you did that worked.”
“It was surprisingly easy.” Taylor replies.
“And dangerous — but some things are worth the danger.” The man looks down his nose — at his height it’s impossible to do anything else — and squeezes Kathy’s arm. “We should get going. We need to catch Isadora before the show starts.”
She nods curtly; all business now. Throws a look back to her—friend? rival?—Ryder.
“Well it’s been fun, but —”
“‘Isadora’ as in Izzy-Isadora? Carlo’s daughter?”
Kathy’s not the only one taken by surprise at Cal’s interruption but she does seem to notice him for the first time.
“Maybe.”
“Ain’t no other Isadora we’d know by name.” Nik cuts in.
“What’s it to you?”
“Her dad just died — what’s she doin’ here?”
Cal raises a good point. Leaves the collective group in an awkward silence. The gears turning in Kathy’s head are near visible — like the steam coming out of her ears.
“She’s here to pay off her father’s debt to the Smoke.” Cadence finally answers. Judging by the way Kathy looks at him, too, he’s not lying. “What?” He asks her in defense of her silent accusation. “What did I say?”
Only Nik acts like he’s just been shot. “Wait — Smoke’s here tonight?”
“No — Katherine stop — but her collector is. He’s leading the matches in the underground.”
“What matches?”
“The cage fights.”
Cal makes a desperate, choking noise beside him and Taylor immediately tries to see what he can do — he doesn’t have to know much about this new world to understand what they’re talking about. ‘Cage fights’ is a pretty universal term with only so many interpretations.
“That’s where they have Donny.”
Taylor doesn’t have to question him. Not with how sure, how terrified he sounds. And it makes sense — mobsters are mobsters.
“Well… we’ll just be going now…” Katherine starts tugging her partner away — actually has to tug since he seems suddenly taken by Cal’s reaction. “Cade — come on.”
Nik leans over Taylor — is personal space a concept to anyone around here? — to look Cal dead in the eyes.
“You sure?”
“Has to be.” Cal chokes out.
“Would you like to join us?”
Katherine stops tugging only to pick her jaw up off the ground. Even Taylor’s surprised by the man’s abrupt invitation. Checks his face again for any sign of cruel teasing but there’s nothing in those golden eyes.
Nothing but curiosity. Not even sincerity. He wants to see what will happen.
“Bad idea, Cadence.” Katherine warns.
“Nope!” Taylor’s shoved by Ryder — accidentally shoves the still sheet-white Cal as a result — out of the booth in haste. “Can’t take it back now.”
The Nighthunter adjusts his shirt and coat sleeves like he’s wearing something bought on the same rack as every other bespoke suit and outfit there. When he speaks he’s looking straight at Katherine — now fuming — and has to be getting his kicks judging by the look on her face.
“We’d love to.”
All it takes is a gesture for their new guides to turn and start walking. Too far ahead and too fast for Taylor to catch any of the whispers Katherine hisses under her breath. But he’s more focused on Cal.
“We’re gonna find him — don’t worry.”
Cal swallows audibly.
“Cage fights, Taylor. They’ve got him in cage fights.”
“And we’re gonna get him out before anything happens.”
Nik passes them; offers him grim two cents.
“If it ain’t happened already.”
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