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amorisland · 2 years

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I’m having a bad day so here’s some writing I’ve been working on its really rough and first draft and I’ll probably add, change remove things if I do end up completing it...

[This is after Tom and Cora enter the Villa, Will and my MC Kyra are outside chilling on the daybeds while Bruno and Thabi are on their dates]

Kyra allows herself to slip somewhere in between consciousness, comfortably stretching her limbs out like a cat on the daybed in the summer sun.

"You know," the soft voice brought her out of her own head. "We've been in here a while and I feel like I still don't know that much about you."

Her eyes opened slightly turning to face the other day bed where Will lay on his side. His taut muscles flex making his tattoos appear alive for a brief moment.

"Well that's kinda your fault," She laughs.

"What do you mean?" He moves to sit up, resting his weight on one arm. "How's that my fault?"

"You never gave me a second date after the roof terrace to answer your questions about me like you promised." His face pulls into one of worry and she almost feels bad for teasing him. Almost. "I'm just messing with you, Will."

"Well, I could still ask you questions, you know as a friend."

Her eyes searched his face for a hint of insincerity, or obligation. Instead, she was met with a distinct glow in his eyes, holding her hostage in their deep brown color. It was easy to get lost in them. They were always so full of passion and mystery. They were a challenge to her, one that begged to be decoded, cracked open, and understood.

She just wasn't sure if it was her place to wonder anymore.

"I'd like that."

A soft smile pulled at his lips. "How about I start with the same questions you asked me on the roof terrace, for old times' sake."

"And do you remember those questions," Kyra turned on her side this time eyebrow-raising.

His eyes squint, brows furrow together, a small smirk completing the teasing look. Kyra felt her throat dry watching the small dimple form on one side of his face. "What's your most embarrassing moment?"

She couldn't prevent the genuine surprise that fills her, eyes widening. Quickly she attempted to compose herself. The overwhelming desire to be in control of her own image forcing her to keep her cool. Even if she had slipped up for a brief moment, "You mean besides you pieing me off on national television?"

His open palm flattens against his chest in a fraudulent act of pain and they both giggle. "You're not getting out of this one, answer the question."

"Okay, okay." She pulled her lip in between her teeth, deep in thought about what she felt comfortable sharing being very aware of the cameras watching her every move. It didn't help that Will, for the first time, seemed interested in something other than himself. Kyra sighed realizing there was no way to talk herself out of this question. "Freshmen year of college, I went to some art school, where exactly doesn't matter."

His eyebrows raised and she hated the way it made her feel. "Anyways we had an assignment to paint whatever we wanted to show our style and skill to our classmates and professor. I was so excited I loaded my palette with so many colors not sure exactly what I was going to paint yet. Then I realized I forgot the most important color, phthalo blue."

"Of course, of course," He nodded playing along.

"So I turned around to grab some more paint and I bumped right into someone, my palette mashing right into their crisp white button-up. Which, like, who wears a white shirt to paint? Sorry, just saying. But as if that weren't embarrassing enough, I grabbed paper towels to wipe the paint off his shirt, totally smearing it more into a muddy brown that was for sure going to stain. That's when I look up and see the most beautiful guy I had ever seen in my life. Ugh, I was mortified."

He laughs, eyes crinkling up in a soft gesture.

"Are you? Are you laughing at me?" She tries to look tough and upset but her mouth upturns giving her away.

"Sorry, I could just imagine the look on your face. So I'm assuming it didn't work out with the white button-up guy? Sounds to me like you met your soulmate."

"Oh gosh no, I never talked to the guy again. I was so embarrassed I couldn't face him for the rest of the semester then I never saw him again. I never told anyone that story outside of my close friends till now..."

"And now you told it on tv I'm sure white button-up guy is watching somewhere." Her face paled, "I always thought you were this confident person but this is a whole new side I wasn't expecting."

"This was many, many, years ago. I was young and inexperienced. I still hadn't been in love before." The skin on her arms raised into bumps, the phantom touch of her first love left memories on her body. She wondered if she could ever forget them, rubbing the skin on her wrist gently.

As if he read her mind he changed the subject, "So art college?"

"I was a young excited fresh-faced artist, and It was an excuse to move out of my parent's house. I had a chip on my shoulder and something to prove."

He nodded understandingly, she thinks he'd push the topic further but instead he asks: "What's your happiest memory?"

Kyra's face breaks out into a sincere smile while her cheeks turned a shade of carnation. "I think my first solo exhibition."

"Oh fancy," his voice held a teasing tone as he leaned in closer to the edge of the opposite day bed closer towards her. Her eyes briefly distracted by the way his body gracefully slides across the soft bedsheets.

"I had worked tirelessly, day in and day out. I barely got any sleep trying to complete all my paintings in time. I thought deeply about the aesthetic and story I wanted to tell throughout. Where to place paintings in the room to give off the best vibes." She smiled to herself reliving the memory. "I swear I rearranged that room about a thousand times. I kept doubting myself, my abilities, would I even be able to sell any paintings on my own?"

Will thoughtfully nodded, She was sure he'd think her of being a spoiled brat. Their lives totally opposite from one another and yet... There was a small trace of understanding in his features.

"I wore the best gown I could afford from my day job at a coffee shop and got all dressed up. Then the event started and... no one was there."

His face fell, "I thought you said this was your happiest memory?"

"It is! Let me get to the good part!" His hand gestured for her to get a move on it, Kyra's eyes rolled in response. "I thought I was a failure and that all my hard work was for nothing. Then the bell rang and my little brother ran through the door up to me giving me a huge hug. Following him were my parents, I was shocked to see them there."

"Didn't support your dream?" He asked.

"Well, not necessarily. They sent me to art school after all. No, my parents didn't really care what I did as long as I 'stayed out of trouble.' But they had never been to any of my art shows in the past. Seeing them there approving of my work, it meant a lot to me."

They shared a look of understanding between them. If anyone were to understand her situation in life, surprisingly It'd be him. They were so different and yet not enough. Raised in complete opposite situations and yet could relate so easily to one another. Both of them wanted the same things in life, to create, to find a love that won't quit on them, and to find a new home. A place where they felt comfortable.

She spoke up after a moment of silence, "And then more people came onto the exhibit floor half an hour later and I realized I had nothing to worry about. My parents even bought one of my paintings, it makes me happy to think it's hanging in their living room, even if they probably threw it into a storage closet at this point."

He nodded then took in a deep breath. "And your biggest regret?"

Her face fell, a stormy cloud filled her mind with all the things she wishes she could do differently. She thought maybe about making a joke answer, something to get her out of overthinking what was considered oversharing. Kyra didn't want to scare him off so soon. They had just become friends after all. But then she remembered how upfront and honest he had answered her on that roof terrace and she decided she owed him the same.

"Leaving my brother behind when I moved out."

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion trying to put the pieces together in his mind that didn't quite line up. As if he, too, was trying to decode her the same way she was to him. "I never did ask you about your family. I talk about my parents so much I feel terrible not asking..."

"It's not like it's something I'd bring up anyways. My parents aren't in a very happy marriage. They fought a lot and it really wasn't a happy home growing up." The look he gave her made her heart twist, of course he couldn't possibly understand. Not when he talks so highly of his family.

"Why didn't they separate?"

"They're conservative, it wouldn't look good in society or whatever. I shouldn't even be talking about this."

"Your family knows Tom's, so that means..." He trailed off furrowing his brow. She understood the unspoken question that lingered between them.

"My family are Korean immigrants, they came to London to expand their business." Kyra paused finding her words. The usual rehearsed explanation she had used for so many years suddenly didn't seem enough to suffice. "They own a lucrative soju company and it really took off in London."

A smile formed on the corner of his mouth, "You're Korean. I should've known when you made Korean fried chicken that one night."

She laughed, "Bruno complained about how spicy it was."

"But you used mild gochujang?" Will's smile grew into a wide tooth-filled grin. The dimples decorated each of his cheeks as his eyes turned into happy crescent moons.

"I know," She fell into a fit of laughter which he soon followed.

#this is wip and probably pretty OOC #writing will is hard but i want to add more depth to them #my mc had no ethnicity till that night where they made us cook fucking chicken nuggets #so i said no fucking way and made it korean fried chicken instead #i'll delete later i just wanna be self indulgent for a moment

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snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales · 3 years

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Blue Moon - Part 4

A/N: See masterlist for prompts used. (And the list of amazing people who have helped me with this.) I felt it necessary to say, remember, these are all following along with the episodes from 03x04 on till the end of 3A. Without *directly* inserting the reader into the plot line, but more an off screen role. (Aside from the beginning, where, obviously, Derek fought the Alpha’s while Cora watched from the sidelines.) And because of that, it’s more angst than I usually write. It was a very angsty season. And the prompts have inherent angst, but lots of fluff, and sass, so once we get out of the murkiness that is Jennifer Blake (can you tell I don’t like her? - which, kudos to the actress, who I think is beautiful and brilliant, for making me hate her so much. 😆) we can move on to that happy, feel good, Sourwolf love we all enjoy so much. But until then, I guess this counts as a slow burn of sorts?

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Warnings: See Masterlist

Word count: 2,633

Xxx

The next day was lonely. Stiles would text you every now and then, but other than that it was a quiet day. No word about Derek from anyone other than Peter and Cora going to get his body and it not being there. And neither was Ennis’, who Derek had pulled down with him. You decided not to dwell on the many possible things that could mean.

You drove in silence to all the places Stiles had mentioned the night before and spoke meekly at each one. You felt almost like you were floating through the day, going through the motions, but your mind was a million miles away.

The meet ended up getting canceled due to weather, and they were all going to be stuck staying at some crappy motel that Stiles insisted was haunted through multiple texts with an excessive amount of emojis. You couldn’t get ahold of anyone else, which was kinda odd, but also not totally abnormal.

To top it all off, you needed something you left at the loft, so you told the Sheriff - who had taken the night off and ordered a pizza to stay in with you this evening, after finding out Stiles wasn’t coming right back - you would be back in a flash, you just had to “run home real quick”, careful not to mention the loft, to which he just chuckled and said something along the lines of, “Just make sure you run the speed limit.”

Sighing as you pulled into the loft parking lot, you glanced through the windshield up at the top floor where it sat. It was so ominous looking, bathed in moonlight, it almost gave a faint glow. Resting your forehead on the steering wheel, you took some deep breaths, panic rising as flashes of your tango with an Alpha came back rapidly. But instead of feeling like a badass, it made you hyperventilate. There was this gnawing feeling that it had been a one time thing, and that should you ever encounter them again you would be in so much trouble.

Taking one last deep breath to steady your nerves, you stopped mid inhale, slightly cocking your head to the side, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

Derek.

You had caught Derek’s scent. Well, it’s his loft, you rationalized to yourself. But no. This was fresh. Less than a few hours old. Glancing back up at the loft one last time, you grabbed the handle and yanked your door open, mustering the courage you could find to climb up the winding staircase and see for yourself.

Taking them two at a time, you felt your courage build with each step and your hope that Derek was there along with it. As you stood in front of the loft door, your outstretched hand just shy of the handle and trembling, you took a tentative breath and knew Derek had been here very recently. That was the final push you needed to firmly grip the handle of the loft door, preparing to give it a hefty pull, but something made you stop short.

A whisper.

Just on the other side of the door, a woman's voice, then Derek’s. Surely your mind was playing tricks on you; you didn’t smell anyone else. You did pick up on something vaguely familiar, but couldn’t place it. The smell reminded you of school, and the crime scenes of the sacrifices you had been at, and lately, the loft. Unable to place the smell, you slowly slid the door open, stopping after only a few inches to peek in.

What you saw made your heart speed up, as there Derek sat on the edge of his bed, covered in scratches and blood, but alive. He was alive.

Your feet that had been glued to the floor suddenly felt like they were floating, the distance between him and you too much. You couldn’t contain the smile that brought to your lips, but it soon melted when another figure stepped into view in front of him. On instinct you had started to move forward, barely making it over the threshold before the other silhouette made you pull up short.

Jennifer.

You covered your mouth to hold in whatever was about to come out, anger, disgust, pain, you didn’t know, they were all swirling in your gut at the sight. You fell to your knees, bracing yourself on the doorframe to try and stay just out of sight.

No, Derek hadn’t caught your scent yet, which is what you found the most strange, and worrisome, and only reinforced that she was doing something to his mind.

You finally placed the smell as belonging to Miss Blake, but it was different from her scent she had all the other times you had seen her, and that somehow made it worse. It didn’t smell like emotions or anything, it smelled like an entirely different being. Barely even human.

This last thought made you knit your eyebrows in determination, about to rise to your feet, charge in there, and show the she devil a thing or two, but you only made it to one knee, still bent on the floor, before you froze, eyes wide, eyebrows practically in your hairline. What you saw could never be unseen. Like two dogs in heat, they were on one another as if space between them was too painful. Your grip on the door frame and the loft door handle almost broke them under the pressure.

You felt sick. Physically sick to your stomach. Whether from the feeling of betrayal, knowing you were right that something was weird about this whole thing, the fact that they had been getting it on in front of you, or all of the above, you weren’t quite sure.

Sliding the door shut calmly, you tried to keep it together as you softly, but quickly, made it back down the stairs, into your car, and back to the Stilinski driveway, putting your car in park and shutting off the engine before you let yourself feel anything.

You wanted to kick and scream and sob your eyes out because you knew she had been doing something to him, you knew something was wrong, but you didn’t go with your gut, and now here you were. In your car, alone. In front of the Stilinski house. Silent tears racing down your face at the feeling of betrayal, both from seeing them together tonight and at yourself for not doing something sooner.

A tap on your window made you jump, and you saw the Sheriff trying to peek in. Opening your door, you hopped out, swiping rapidly at your tears, and plastering a smile on your face. “Sorry that took so long.”

He looked at you skeptically, waving it off. “Nah. The pizza just got here. You’re right on time.”

Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he ushered you into the house, quietly closing the front door behind the both of you. He stayed silent until you were both in the living room. He had the remote in his hand about to press play on the movie, but it dipped once in hesitation before he sighed, and it fell along with his hand to the armrest beside him. Scrubbing his face for a moment with his free hand, he finally looked up at you. Opening his mouth once before snapping it shut, staring blankly in front of him as if the space held the right thing to say, he scratched his forehead with the remote, his face making the face you had come to learn and love earlier on from Stiles. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

You stopped trying to grab a slice of pizza from the box, clearing your throat and wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans before nodding gently, staring at the floor. “Yeah.” You looked up and met his gaze, seeing concern painting his features. “Yeah, I’m okay, Mr. Stilinski. Just boy trouble. Thanks for asking.” You smiled as best you could, and he seemed to do the same.

“Well, we’ve known each other forever, sweetheart, and I want you to know that you can tell me anything.”

The smile on your face felt a little more genuine. “I know. Thank you.”

“No matter how uncomfortable it makes me,” he continued as if you hadn’t said anything. The words sounded pained and forced, his brows knit like he was eating a lemon, and you finally let out the full smile that had been trying break through, even laughing.

His lips twitched up gently. “There she is.”

“I will. Thank you. But for both of our sakes-” you leaned in, placing a hand on his forearm- “I’ll probably just tell Stiles.”

“Oh, thank God.” He let out on a huff of air, making you laugh again. “Now. Let’s watch this movie.” He hit play, and you settled into the couch, letting the plot unfolding on the screen take you away, if only for a little while.

Xxx

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, waking you up with a start.

The DVD menu played softly on a loop, the movie long over, and to your right the Sheriff was snoring with his head on the back of the couch.

You tossed the blanket you had been using on top of him before leaving the room and checked your phone, only to see it was Stiles.

“Stiles?” You spoke quietly into the receiver, not wanting to wake the Sheriff.

“Y/N? Why are you whispering?” Stiles sounded kind of stressed, just a little bit off.

“Your dad took off work tonight and we had a pizza - yes, I let him have pizza, don’t you dare jump on my case and go on a tirade about how he needs a salad, let the man live, Stiles - and we watched a movie.”

“I was wondering why that soundtrack was playing on a loop in the background. He used a DVD, didn’t he? I taught him how to use streaming-”

“Stiles!” You cut off his tangent with a chuckle. “Why are you calling me so late. Or, is it early?” You checked your watch to find it was early morning, still dark outside.

“Well, let’s just say tonight has been interesting, we are all alive, which is good, but sleeping on the bus-”

“The bus?”

“The bus. Our rooms weren’t safe, and I don’t mean because of roaches or mysterious stains, Y/N.” You grinned. “Although there was this one smell in my room that was rather suspect….”

Smell. Scent. Shit.

Screwing your eyes shut, palm on your forehead, you spoke quickly, “Stiles, don’t be angry with me.” Peeking your head into the other room to see the Sheriff still soundly asleep, you stepped onto the back porch and closed the door behind you, ignoring Stiles’ incessant questions as you did.

“Stiles! Hush! I had to leave the room so your dad didn’t hear!”

“Oh,” was all he said. You heard the squeak of the bus as he slumped back against it, obviously doing the same as you and trying to get a bit of privacy.

Taking a deep breath, you told him everything you saw at the loft.

The only thing he did was suck in a sharp breath, but was otherwise silent. Finally he said, “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Yeah, thanks, whatever.” You cleared your throat, looking down at your feet before lifting your gaze to stare vacantly across the yard. “My main concern was that scent. It didn’t smell human, but not entirely not human.”

“Well, that’s terrifying,” Stiles said blandly, making your lips twitch up just slightly. You heard another voice on the other end, Scott, and Stiles mumbled something about speakerphone before the phone was jostled around a bit. You could hear a mumbled, “Well, no, you don’t need speakerphone because you’re a freak of nature, Scott, but I, a mere mortal, need the aid.” You chuckled and could hear Scott let out a groan and soft chuckle himself.

“Y/N?” Finally Scott’s voice came through clearly.

“Yeah?”

“First of all, thank you. For everything.” His voice sounded distant, and you sure as hell were going to interrogate them when they got back as to what the hell happened that night at the motel, but for now you just nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see you and rolled your eyes.

“You’re welcome, Scott. The feeling’s mutual. Thanks for making it so easy.”

Stiles humphed. “I feel like that last part was directed at me.”

“But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A mumbled, “Thanks, I guess,” but you could hear his smile.

“Y/N, the scent. The one you smelled at Derek’s loft.” Scott was back to business. “I think I smelled it here tonight.”

“Really? How is that-” You were cut off by Scott who was obviously talking to Stiles.

“Right before we decided to stay in the bus, when Lydia saw something in the fire, after the explosion-”

"Okay, what the hell happened to you guys?!" you asked loudly, cutting them off. Grimacing, you quickly used your hearing to pick up on the Sheriff's continued snores, let out a sigh of relief, and lowered your voice. "I feel so left out."

“No, I’m glad you weren’t here,” Scott said. “Long story short, something went after a specific group of our friends, and when it finally showed its face,” you heard Lydia cut in from somewhere behind, “I’d barely call that a face,” and you didn’t know whether to laugh or be afraid.

Scott continued pointedly, “When it showed its face, I got a whiff of something I can only describe how you described the smell at the loft. Not human. But also not… not…. human.”

A smacking sound could be heard, and you realized Stiles was patting Scott on the back while saying, “It’s okay, bud. It’s been a long day.”

“One question.” You took a deep breath, trying to decide on the winner of thousands that swam around your brain right now. “Why is Lydia there?”

“She came with Allison.”

“Why was Allison there, Stiles?”

“Uh-uh. You said one question.”

“This is still technically the same question since they apparently came together.”

“….Touché,” Stiles finally came back with, before sighing. “Look, I’ll tell you everything when we get back, okay? It’s been a hell of a day and I just want to sleep,” he continued in a mumble, “if I can ever sleep again after seeing what I’ve seen.” A brief pause. “You werewolves need to come with a disclaimer. ‘May cause sleep disturbances’.”

You laughed loudly. “Okay, okay. I know I’m not going to get anywhere with you guys this tired. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” came a chorus of voices, and you felt relief wash over you at the sound of each one, knowing they were safe and sound.

“Goodbye, Y/N.” Stiles’ voice came through by itself after some fumbling, probably taking you off speakerphone.

“Goodbye, Stiles. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay on the phone until you fall asleep? I mean, I am part of the reason, after all. I do come with a disclaimer.”

“I would absolutely love that, but I need to save my battery and I am in a bus surrounded by werewolves, whatever Lydia is, and a hunter. I think my security system is pretty good for tonight.”

You chuckled. “Okay then. Goodnight, Stiles.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Oh!”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being there with my dad.”

“No problem, Stiles. You know he’s like family to me. He was there for me when I came back from the loft, said I could talk about it if I needed.”

“He offered to listen while you talked?!” He was almost yelling.

You laughed again. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

He chuckled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02, @palaiasaurus64, @shydinosaurcandy, @lucyqueenofthestars, @c-breanne1999, @l4life, @ethereallysimple, @teenwolffan-with-nolife, @bellabadacadabra, @lilostif16, @wandas-love, @emily500, @babygirl-angel-love, @c-dizzle99 What’s This?

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teenwolffan-with-nolife · 3 years

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The Witch and The Wolf Pt.39

Word Count: 2,319

Characters: Derek Hale, Peter Hale, Isaac Lahey, Reader

Pairings: Eventual Deek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, some fluff

A/N: last part of the year?

A/N 2: Can literally anyone leave some feedback on the series? I want to know if people are actually enjoying it

A/N 3: Happy Holidays

Masterlist Series Masterlist

“Derek, what are you doing?” you felt his hands travel down your waist as he stood behind you.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

He pressed his lips towards your neck as you closed your eyes softly, clenching your jaw.

Before you could protest, you felt your back hitting the wall, Derek’s lips pressed against yours as he put his hands on your thighs, lifting you gently. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he began walking to his bed. He put his hand on your head, pulling it back roughly, pressing his lips on your neck.

You breathed heavily, closing your eyes as you held onto him tightly.

---

You opened your eyes, taking a deep breath as you jumped up, feeling your neck aching. You must have fallen asleep.

You sat on a chair, next to Derek’s bed as he still laid there, unconscious.

Maybe he was really tired, and maybe that’s the reason he didn't wake up.

You checked your phone, scrolling past the messages from everyone. It was nearly 7 AM, which had made about four hours since Derek collapsed.

Your mind thought back to your dream before you shook your head.

You’d be lying if you said you didn't miss him, that you didn't still love him, even after everything. But the pain you felt after he cheated on you, even after he said he didn't love you and he never did, it still hurt. You tried to ignore it for the most part. The two of you were doing just fine as friends for the past couple of weeks, before last night anyway.

You began to grow more worried, seeing Derek still asleep. You ran your fingers through his hair, looking down at him.

“(Y/N)?” his eyes were still closed as he said your name softly.

“Derek, I’m here,” you frowned, holding his hand.

“What happened?” he opened his eyes, holding your hand before sitting up.

You sat next to him, stroking his hand softly.

“I don’t know. You just collapsed. Are you okay?” you asked.

He nodded, rubbing his head.

“Headache?” you said.

He nodded again, as he massaged his head softly.

“I don’t think drugs work on wolves,” you said.

“Do you have any idea what happened?” you asked.

“No. Well, sort of. I’ve been blacking out since I healed Cora,” he replied.

“Since you healed Cora? It’s been weeks,” you frowned.

“I’m aware. But I’m fine. I’ll get through it,” he said.

“That’s not good,” you shook your head.

“I'll be fine. Uhm, thanks for staying with me,” he nodded.

You smiled softly as you heard Peter’s voice, as the door opened.

“I didn't interrupt anything, did I?” his eyes motioned to Derek’s bed then back at the two of you.

You let go of Derek’s hand, inhaling deeply as you stood up.

“I’ll see you later,” you smiled softly, walking away.

---

You stood at the door, in front of the McCall’s house. Your phone had died before you had a chance to text Isaac. You knew he was staying with Scott now.

“(Y/N)? It’s been a while,” Melissa wrapped her arms around you tightly, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, it’s been a while. How are you doing?” you stood next to her, walking into the McCall house as the two of you walked to the kitchen.

“Well, everything is crazy, but we’re managing,” she started.

You heard someone’s voice behind you, turning around as your face dropped.

“Agent McCall,” you said in a monotone voice.

“(Y/N),” he replied with the same tone.

“I think you need to get to work,” Melissa motioned to Agent McCall, glaring at him.

Before either of you said anything, he walked away.

“So… he’s staying with you,” you started.

“He’s on the couch, it’s nothing special,” she shrugged.

“I know it can't be easy,” you replied softly, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“As I said, I’m managing,” she smiled softly.

“Well, how about you sit down? I know Scott and Isaac probably aren't up yet, so I’m gonna make you some coffee and some breakfast,” you said, leading her to a chair.

“Oh, (Y/N), no,” she started.

“I insist,” you said.

She nodded softly, as you began making some eggs, and some coffee.

“Hey, Mrs.McCall, me and Scott,” you heard Isaac start as his face dropped, looking at you.

“Hey,” you said.

“Oh my god,” he ran to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you hugged him back.

“You’re… alive! Where have you been?! Why didn't you answer my calls? Or texts? Or tell me you’re okay? You’re back! Oh my god,” he began to bombard you as ran your fingers through his hair.

“I’ll explain it all later,” you shook your head.

“Uhm, no. You’ll take me to school and you’ll tell me everything,” Isaac tugged on your arm.

“Wait, I’m making Melissa breakfast you little needy. You need to sit down also,” you motioned to the chair as he rolled his eyes, sitting down.

You could see the smile on Melissa’s face as you continued making eggs for the four of you.

---

“That’s… something. No powers? At all?” he asked softly.

“Not until I figure this demon crap out. But being human is so boring,” you sighed.

“So, you basically, spent the last few weeks with Derek,” Isaac started, raising an eyebrow at you.

“What are you trying to say?” you frowned.

“Nothing, I’m just saying to use a condom,” you immediately smacked Isaac’s arm.

“Shut up. God, you're worse than Stiles,” you sighed.

“So, you’re telling me you don’t still like him?” Isaac asked.

“I didn't say that,” you shook your head.

“So you do like him,” Isaac said.

“I didn't say that either,” you sighed.

“I don’t get it,” Isaac shook his head.

“I’m saying that I don't want to talk about this right now, okay? Of course, I still care about him, but I’m not ready to forgive him for Jennifer. About what he said. I just don't want to talk about this, okay?” you raised your voice slightly, resting your head on your hand, and your elbow on your car window.

“I’m sorry,” Isaac said, his voice low.

“It doesn't matter. Sorry,” you shook your head.

“Well, for what it’s worth, you two belong together,” Isaac replied.

You scoffed slightly, driving into the parking lot of Beacon Hills High.

“Well, how are things going with you and Allison? Are you still madly in love with her?” you replied.

“We’re friends, okay? And Scott’s one of my best friends,” Isaac rolled his eyes.

“I thought you said Scott said it was okay,” you asked.

“He did. I still feel bad,” Isaac sighed.

“Well, that guilt is what makes you a good person,” you gave him a fake smile as he rolled his eyes.

You smirked, before hearing your phone off, getting a text from Derek.

“Hell no,” Isaac said, as you looked up, seeing the twins approach Scott.

“They’re… what's going on?” you frowned.

“So much crap has happened since you left. For example, Scott, Stiles, and Allison are going crazy. But that's not important right now, I’ll tell you later. I need to go help Scott,” Isaac grabbed his bag.

You kissed his forehead softly.

“Be careful,” he waved to you as he got out of your car, walking to Scott.

---

“Stop moving,” you glared, taking the needle as you stuck it into Peter’s finger, hearing him yell out.

“You know, you don't have to be so rough,” he winked as you pulled the string through his finger.

“That hurts,” he grunted.

“Good.”

You continued sewing his finger back on, as he continued whining. You ignored it, purposely pushing the needle into the wrong place.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Derek said, covering a small laugh.

“I don’t get why I can’t help you with this,” you shrugged.

“You don’t have powers. It’s just Peter,” Derek assured you.

“Exactly. It’s just Peter,” you sighed.

You turned to face Peter, before clenching your jaw, running your fingers through your hair as you sat down in front of him.

“So, now’s the part you tell me what I risked my life and digit for,” Peter said.

Derek looked at you, before opening the box, revealing Talia’s old claws. It was all that was left of her after the fire.

You held Derek’s hand softly, knowing this wasn't going to be easy for him.

“They’re all that was left of her after the fire. I need to ask her something, and this is the only way to do it,” Derek explained.

You laid the claws on the table, looking back at Peter then at Derek.

“Fine, but under one condition. I get to keep them afterward,” your face dropped as you gave Peter a look.

“Sentimental value. She was your mother, she was my sister,” you could tell Derek was holding back his tongue as he raised an eyebrow.

“What? Am I not allowed a little bit of sentiment?” Peter exasperated.

You looked at Derek, as he looked back at you. He motioned to Talia’s nails silently, asking you your opinion.

You shrugged, shaking your head. It was his choice.

“Fine,” Derek put the claws back into the box, handing them to Peter.

Peter smiled cheekily, as you got up, walking away with Derek.

“What do you think he wants with them?” you asked.

“I don’t know, but he can’t do anything that bad… right?” Derek asked.

You leaned against the wall, as he crossed his arms, standing in front of you.

“I have no idea. We’ll just have to keep a close eye on him,” you said.

“Well, let’s do this, yeah?”

---

You sat on your knees, in front of Derek while you held his hand, stroking it softly.

“Peter, I swear if something goes wrong, I’ll kill you,” you threatened.

“That won’t be my fault,” he replied.

“Whatever,” you glared at him, looking back at Derek.

Derek opened his mouth to speak, before shutting his eyes tightly, squeezing your hand as Peter stuck Talia’s claws into the back of Derek’s neck.

You looked at Peter, as he breathed heavily, clearly struggling as Derek’s grip on your hand softened.

You waited there anxiously for a few minutes, before Peter pulled away, pushing away from Derek. Derek gasped for air, his face covered in sweat.

“What happened? What did you see? Did she say anything about me?” Peter immediately began asking Derek questions, as you stood up next to him.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He nodded softly, clenching his jaw as he looked at Peter. His eyes were bloodshot as he looked up at you.

Peter continued to nag him, asking him about Talia as Derek ignored him. Derek stood up, pushing past Peter as he walked out of the loft.

“Derek?” you ran after him, running out of the loft.

---

“That’s… a lot. Peter’s the last person I’d expect to have a kid,” you stood outside the loft, leaning against your car door as Derek stood in front of you.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Derek scoffed.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly.

“Yeah… I don’t think I realized how much I missed her,” Derek started.

“Don’t you ever miss your mom?” Derek asked.

“Well, I don't… sometimes I do. I don’t like thinking about her,” you shook your head softly

“It’s been almost 8 years and I… I still think about them. About all of them,” Derek said softly.

“But that’s normal. Derek, you went through something… something big,” you said.

“I lost just as much as you. You barely seem to think about it,” Derek raised an eyebrow.

“That’s… no,” you started.

“Your grandparents are dead, your mom’s siblings, all dead, you don't have any other cousins or any other family that’s still alive. Well, besides your dad… but,” you tensed slightly as you looked down, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“(Y/N)?” he said softly. Your eyes watered as you shook your head.

“My dad’s not… he’s dead,” you whispered.

Derek was silent for a minute before speaking.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked.

“I lost control of my powers. I killed him,” you sniffled as you turned away from Derek.

“It's not your fault,” he stroked your cheek softly, turning your face to look up at him.

You looked up at him nervously, before inhaling deeply.

Screw it

You stood on your toes, leaning up as you pressed your lips against his.

Oh crap

You immediately regretted your actions as you broke the kiss, your face red as you shut your eyes in embarrassment.

He put his hands on your face, kissing you once more as you stumbled back slightly, hitting your car as it began to honk loudly.

You broke the kiss, as the two of you began to laugh.

“Nice way to end the night, yeah?” Derek smirked.

“Oh, shut up,” you scoffed.

You heard your phone go off, getting a text from Isaac.

“You have to go?” he asked.

You nodded softly, wrapping your arms around your waist.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

“See you tomorrow,” you kissed him again, before leaving.

---

“Isaac,” you dropped your bags, running to him as he wrapped his arms around himself, rocking softly.

“What happened?” you wrapped your arms around him tightly, as he held onto you.

“I-It was so cold… I can’t stop thinking about… my dad, t-the freezer,” Isaac stuttered as his voice broke. You could feel his tears on your sleeve as you stroked his hair softly.

“What happened?” you asked.

“I-I don’t…” he began to hyperventilate, gasping for air as you shushed him, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

“You don’t have to talk, kid,” you whispered.

You heard Isaac cry softly, laying down in your lap, as you continued to hold him, running your fingers through his hair softly.

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socialoutsiderwritings · 3 years

Text

always, only. You 27.1

Talia had taken Y/N in to her pack after your parents and their pack were brutally murdered. For years she trained and learned under Talia alongside Derek , Laura and Cora. One night Talia tells you along with Derek that you two have to imprint on each other , to become each other’s mates. Your connection to Derek has always been stronger than his to you. So after the fire it killed you to be away from him , but you had to do it for your own survival. 7 years after the fact , you return home. Back to Beacon Hills. But the Derek you return to is not the same Derek you know. Will Y/N ever get Derek to accept the fact they are meant to be together?

Derek Hale x Reader

You regained consciousness before arriving at your destination, but the shock collar hiding under the scarf they wrapped around you was the only reason why you haven’t fought your way out of their SUV.

One of the hunters opened the room door and shoved you inside. “We’ll be right outside, boss.” He said before closing the door behind you.

Gerard was in front of the window, looking out, not paying any mind to you at first. When the sound of the door closing clicked he turned to you. In his lap was a tissue box and in his hand a tissue covered in black goo. He coughed, bringing the tissue up to his mouth and wiping the black goo that was coming out.

“You’ve had better days.” You said nonchalantly. You walked towards his bed and sat down at the edge, “why am I here?” You asked, boredly.

Yes, you reached out to him, specifically, to help you before. It was a one and done deal. You’d take away as much pain as you could and in return he will give you information and a way to subdue you, if there was a way. Your debt was paid. So why did he go through the trouble to bring you back to him?

“I want to make another deal.”

Your face remained stoic, but his words did surprise you. “I didn’t take you for someone to ask a werewolf for help. Change of heart? You wanna be friends now?” You mocked.

“I have some news that might interest you. Maybe even save your life. And everyone else’s.” He continued. “You just have to help with this old man’s pain.”

You straightened yourself up. This is what you feared. Keeping the fact that you were an Ultima a secret was obviously out of the question, not mention impossible. But bargaining with a hunter? You could’ve been killed the first time, but you weren’t. Now you knew why. Gerard also always had something up his sleeve.

You scoffed, turning away in irritation. “You’re turning me into your personal healer dog?” You snarled at him. “What makes you think I’m going to agree to this bullshit?”

“I don’t doubt that you’re strong. That’s why I had my boys put that on your neck.” He pointed at the scarf, but you knew he was talking about the shock collar. “One of them made it, so don’t expect a little love shock. The voltage on that thing can literally turn your brain to mush.” He smiled.

You thought over your options:

1. Escape. If they made the collar that means either Gerard or one of the hunters outside the door had the remote. Along with the key. You were fast and strong, but your chances of taking these hunters out before they could kill you was slim to none. You also couldn’t forget about the ones waiting outside in the SUV. Not to mention the fact you were in a hospital.

2. Using Gerard as a hostage was also a slim to none chance of you leaving alive. Didn’t matter if you held Gerard close or not, the shock from the collar wouldn't faze him a bit. These hunters were smart, they’d lie through their teeth about what happened and no one would question it.

And

3. A flat out no would you earn you a one way ticket to brain dead city.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees, and letting out a heavy, resigned sigh. “Alright then.” You gave in. “We’ll do this like before.”

Gerard smiled and pulled something out of his pocket. When he opened his palm, he revealed the remote to what you assumed was the collar, his thumb hovering over the button to activate it. You got up and walked over to him, hand already reaching out for his.

You closed your eyes, wincing at the pain you were taking from him. It wasn’t pleasant feeling for you either. Even more that it was Gerard of all people.

“Alright.” You exhaled, letting go of his hand. “What news do you have?”

“You’re being hunted.”

“I knew that already.” You grumbled. You attempted to turn away but he grabbed your wrist, too tightly for your comfort.

“You didn’t let me finish.” He was angry now. He glanced down at where his hand was gripping your wrist and slid it down so his hand was now wrapped around yours. As you began to take his pain he continued, “I heard from Araya, they’re looking for la Loba.”

“Who the hell is Araya?”

“She’s the matriarch of the Calaveras. A family of hunters. They mostly reside and deal with cases in Mexico. But words,” he groaned in pain, “going around about a She-wolf they're desperate to catch.”

“Me?” You asked. He only nodded. “How do you know this? Some kind of hunter network where you all gather and share information or something?”

“Bradean.”

“No clue.” You shook your head. You suddenly felt light headed and began to sway in your spot.

Gerard let go of your hand, allowing you to stumble back until you reached his bed. He allowed you a few short moments to regain your strength before continuing, “The woman I hired to get you out of Eichen House. Huge scar on her chest courtesy of Deucalion?”

“Right.” Her face flashed in your mind. You remember seeing her before as well, before she had the scar. At the hospital. You never knew her name until now. “Deucalion did that?”

“As the story goes.” He shrugged with a smile. “Didn't stop her from working for him again though.”

Why?! You rubbed your temples. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to help you. Just tell me everything and get this over with!!

“Get to the point already.” You wanted to scream. You were already annoyed doing favors for him and now by taking his sweet time telling you everything he knows so you can keep taking his pain, you could feel it bubbling inside you.

“If you have enough energy to scowl at me then you could get to work!” He frowned at you, holding his arm out. You didn’t move. He rolled his wheelchair closer to you, forcefully grabbing your hand. “Do you want to know?”

You nodded.

He groaned feeling you take his pain. “Deucalion hired her because Araya captured Peter. And Derek.” He finished. He felt you pull your arm back and held tighter, this time bringing his hand that was holding the remote up to secure your arm in place. “They’re alive.” He stated.

“Then we’re done here.” You pulled your arm out of his grasp successfully this time. Gerard scowled at you, the remote for the collar sitting idly in his lap. “Are you backing out of your own deal?” You question him after a moment of silence.

“You’re not finished.”

“The hell I am.” You stood up. “I kept my end of your stupid deal.” You reminded him.

He grumbled something under his breath before reaching into his sweater pocket. He revealed the key to the collar and tossed it to you.

“Wasn't so hard, was it?” You removed the scarf and walked around him to the mirror to find the lock. “Question. If they live in Mexico… what are the chances they will come up here on their own? Or are they going to hire their own hunters?”

“Depends how much they know.”

The locked clicked open and you giddily removed the horrendous collar, tossing it aside. “Then I’ll just have to find out how much they know.”

You opened the window, swinging one leg over then turned to look at Gerard. “Just so we’re clear now, this is the last time we’ll be making any sort of deal.” You jumped out, landing on your feet and began running to find Derek.

#derek hale teen wolf #derek hale #derek hale x reader imagine #derek hale x reader #derek hale x reader fanfiction #teen wolf #teen wolf fan fiction #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fandom #Peter Hale #peter hale teen wolf #peter hale x reader #peter hale x reader fanfic #isaac lahey #isaac lahey teen wolf

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purplehairedwonder · 3 years

Text

An Awful Lot Like Hope

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Pre-Relationship Lawlu Words: 2308 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Monkey D. Luffy, Nico Robin Note: I know this fic has been done before, but I still wanted to do my own Dressrosa fallout fic. This was written for the “New Beginnings” square on my OP Bingo @op-pirate-fleet card.

Summary: Law should have known that Doflamingo’s defeat wouldn’t simply cause the nightmares the end; trauma didn’t work like that. Rather, he felt like an exposed nerve, raw and jagged. But his conversation with Sengoku had shaken something loose in him, a fragile something he’d kept locked away for sixteen years: hope.

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

The morning after was… difficult.

Law made it through the evening after Doflamingo’s fall on sheer adrenaline—and more than a little bit of spite—helping to treat injuries once the remaining Straw Hats gathered in the former toy soldier’s cabin. Law was the only doctor present, so he’d shoved his own pain, exhaustion, and emotional turmoil aside, falling into the familiar rhythms of cleaning, stitching, and dressing wounds—including his own. In some ways, the distraction was welcome because it kept him from thinking about the day’s events.

Once everyone’s wounds were treated—Law’s own and Luffy’s requiring the most attention—the adrenaline drained out of him, leaving Law feeling hollow, and he had unceremoniously passed out on the floor of the cabin. He woke up in the grey hours of the early dawn with a gasp, the echoes of gunshots and laughter still echoing in his ears. He jolted upright but immediately curled in on himself as the gunshot wounds on his chest and abdomen protested loudly. He took a moment to catch his breath, willing his heart rate to calm down, before looking around the dark cabin. Everyone else was still asleep. Someone had covered him in a blanket at some point, he noted absently.

His thoughts immediately turned to the events of the previous day—traitorous brain—and he knew he had no chance of falling back asleep, no matter how much his body desperately craved it for healing. Insomnia was an old friend, after all. With a weary sigh, he grabbed Kikoku and used her to stand. His vision spun as he unsteadily made it to his feet, and he forced himself to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth until the dizziness passed; he knew he shouldn’t be up and moving with the serious wounds he had sustained the previous day, but Law had never been a very good patient.

Besides, in the wake of his nightmare, the walls of the cabin were starting to feel like they were pressing in on Law like the walls of the treasure chest Cora-san had placed him in thirteen years before. His skin crawled, his stomach turned, and he could feel his heartrate picking up again; he braced himself against the wall with his good arm and stumbled as quickly as he could to the door, nearly tripping over himself once he got the door open and the cool morning air hit him in the face. He managed to shut the door behind him and lurched forward into the pre-dawn.

He made it a half dozen steps from the cabin before he doubled over and vomited, and it seemed like every nerve in his body was screaming against the violent spasms wracking his frame until he was left dry heaving. Once his body stopped shaking, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and glanced back at the cabin, thankful that no one seemed to have noticed his breakdown.

Swallowing against the taste of bile in his throat, he tried to summon a Room to grab some water, but the blue dome faltered and blinked out of existence almost immediately after appearing. Law’s shoulders slumped; he’d overextended his powers during the fight with no regard to the cost, considering he hadn’t expected to see the end of the day. Now that he was alive the morning after, he would be paying the consequences for the overuse.

He would be paying the consequences for everything he’d done to get to this point.

Once he felt steady enough to start walking again, Law trudged forward into the field of flowers and walked until his legs simply gave out from under him. It wasn’t actually that far from the cabin, considering how weak he still was, but it provided enough distance for him to breathe again, to not feel confined by the walls. He rested Kikoku on the ground to his left and looked out toward the still sleeping city.

He should have known that Doflamingo’s defeat wouldn’t simply cause the nightmares the end; trauma didn’t work like that. Rather, Law felt like an exposed nerve, raw and jagged, as the confrontation had dredged up every painful memory he’d spent the last thirteen years trying to keep bottled up.

As he sat by himself in the cool, quiet morning, he found himself wondering what Cora-san would think of him now. Law had come to Dressrosa with every intention of killing Doflamingo—and if he hadn’t been able to do it himself, he’d created a failsafe that would have resulted in Doflamingo’s death at Kaido’s hands. Cora-san hadn’t been able to pull the trigger that day on Minion Island because, despite everything, Doflamingo was still his brother and Cora-san had loved him. He’d wanted to arrest his brother and turn him over to the Marines to face justice. Law, after Flevance, didn’t believe in justice the way Cora-san had. Law knew he was more like Doflamingo in that way, broken and cruel; perhaps part of Law would always be that ten-year-old boy with bombs strapped to his chest looking for destruction.

He could have pulled the trigger.

But he’d been too weak.

The weak don’t get to choose how they die.

Doflamingo’s lessons continued to rear their ugly head, as Law had gone into Dressrosa expecting to die and couldn’t even do that right.

But with Doflamingo in Marine custody, hadn’t Cora-san’s ambition been fulfilled? Wasn’t that what he’d wanted all along?

Law sighed and rubbed his face through his hands. He was so tired.

Law found himself drifting between semi-consciousness and wakefulness, memories playing in his mind’s eye. Of his family. Of the Family. Of Cora-san. Of his crew. Of Luffy.

Law started when a familiar figure sat down next to him, pressing into his personal space. Law frowned when he realized the sun was starting to rise over the ruined capital city; he hadn’t noticed the passage of time.

“Torao,” Luffy said quietly. Law was surprised to see him; after treating his wounds, Law had thought the younger captain would be sleeping for days after the damage he’d taken during the fight. Then again, Law should also be sleeping for days considering his own wounds and here he was.

Law didn’t trust his voice so said nothing, eyes turning back to the city. It would start waking up at any moment to face the herculean task of rebuilding ahead.

“You look cold,” Luffy said after a few quiet moments.

Law blinked. He hadn’t realized it until that moment, but he was cold—though he wasn’t sure how much of it was the cool morning air and how much of it was just him. “I’m okay,” he replied finally.

Luffy seemed unimpressed with the answer so scooted closer, radiating warmth. Law, for some unknown reason, let him. It was easier than fighting him on something so small, he told himself. They were both exhausted and wounded, after all. Luffy had curled himself around Law’s side, though he was being careful with Law’s injured arm.

“How long have you been out here?”

“Awhile.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“I don’t sleep much.” He knew the Straw Hats had noticed his insomnia in the days he’d spent on their ship. He glanced at his companion out of the corner of his eye; Luffy, on the other hand, never seemed to have problems sleeping. “What about you?”

Luffy shrugged and scratched the back of his head, a bit embarrassed. “I woke up and saw Torao was gone.”

“You came to find me?”

“Mhm!” Luffy grinned, and Law’s breath caught in his throat as he, for the briefest of moments, was looking at Cora-san. (“Law, I love you!”) Then it was Luffy again, and Law didn’t know what to do with that.

Law hummed in response, not quite sure what to say. Luffy seemed content just to sit, though, and after a time, the sounds of the waking city started to echo across the field. Law felt his eyes beginning to droop. He wasn’t cold anymore. He blinked a few times but found himself melting into the figure wrapped around him, a warm comfort like Cora-san’s coat had once been.

“S’okay, Torao. I’ve got you,” Luffy murmured as Law slipped into sleep.

-----

Robin awakened slowly, sleep trying to keep its hooks in her after the previous day’s events; she slowly sat up, minding her wounded back. Once she was upright, she assessed the one-room cabin and noted the numerous sleeping figures in the dawn light pooling in through the windows, warmth in her chest as she assessed her nakama, alive after yet another miraculous victory.

Except, she noted with some surprise, the two missing captains. Blankets were discarded haphazardly where both men had fallen asleep the night before.

She pushed herself to her feet. She glanced around once more, and no, neither man was inside. Hm. They couldn’t have gotten far, considering their wounds. As she looked around, she caught Zoro’s one open eye; he silently nodded toward the door. Robin smiled back at him, and he shut his eye again.

Robin carefully maneuvered through the maze of sleeping bodies on the cabin floor and opened the front door. A short distance away two forms were lying on the ground. Alarm jolted through Robin; what if their wounds had reopened? She tapped into her Fruit, manifesting an eye on a flower near the pair…

And all tension left her body.

Both men were fast asleep, Luffy curled protectively around Law, one hand on Law’s gauze-wrapped arm and the other on his hip, pulling him close.

Robin smiled. She’d ask Zoro to bring them back inside after a bit.

-----

The Going Luffy Senpai was as ridiculous as its captain, and Law had little interest in joining in the festivities after the formation of the Straw Hat Grand Fleet. Zoro had roped him into the celebration despite his numerous protestations, but once he’d finally extricated himself, he managed to find a quiet spot away from the chaos. He found himself looking back toward Dressrosa, though it was long out of view.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Nico Robin came up next to him. “You achieved your goal by taking down Doflamingo, didn’t you? What are you going to do next?”

He brushed her off, brusque, mostly because he didn’t have an answer. He retreated to another quiet part of the ship and rested his elbows on the railing. After sleeping through most of the first day after the battle, he’d spent the last two days thinking, ignoring Luffy’s protestations that “Torao thinks too much!”

But his conversation with Sengoku earlier that day had shaken something loose in him, a fragile something he’d kept locked away since Lami collapsed at the festival.

“Don’t try to find a reason for somebody’s love.”

Law had spent so long certain that Cora-san had saved him because of his name. If Cora-san had saved him because he was a so-called enemy of the gods, that meant Law had a purpose. It meant he had something to live for, a reason for all the pain he endured. He could make Cora-san’s sacrifice mean something. It meant he could pay him back.

If Cora-san had saved Law out of love, what did Law do with that?

“If you really want to do something in his memory, you and I should always remember him. That’s good enough. And you live your life as you like. That’s what he would say.”

Law sighed and turned around, leaning back against the railing. He absently ran his fingers over his bandaged arm and looked up at the blue sky. He felt a bit like his arm, torn apart and put messily back together, never quite the same, never quite whole again.

Live your life as you like.

What did Law want?

Law hadn’t expected to live past thirteen, and yet he had. Every day felt like borrowed time that he didn’t know what to do with, so he ended up spending it living for others, from studying medicine to become like his parents to seeking the Family’s approval and then living to avenge Cora-san. Law didn’t know where others’ expectations ended and Law began. In the last twenty-six years, had there ever really been a Trafalgar Law? Or just a mosaic of other people in the shape of a man?

“Torao!”

Law let out a startled oof as Luffy sprang at him, wrapping himself around Law, all frenetic energy—yet somehow also careful of Law’s injuries.

“What, Straw Hat-ya?” Law asked, exasperated—and, okay, maybe a little bit amused.

Luffy grinned into Law’s face. “Hi!”

Law waited for more, but Luffy just kept grinning. “That’s it? You assailed me just to say hi?”

“Yep!”

Law rolled his eyes, though he felt his lips twitching upward. Traitors. “Hi,” he finally said back.

The grin he received in return was blinding, and that fragile piece of something that had come loose in his chest warmed.

Luffy unwrapped himself from Law but grabbed onto his hand. He dropped to the deck, back against the railing, and tugged Law’s hand until the older captain joined him. He immediately launched into a story about Bartolomeo’s wall of Straw Hat bounties and the change in Sanji’s poster. He was gesturing wildly—but he hadn’t let go of Law’s hand.

Law was transfixed.

Oh, he suddenly realized as he watched the way his tattooed fingers slotted in Luffy’s smaller hands as though they belonged. That fragile something he’d kept locked away for the last sixteen years felt an awful lot like hope.

Live your life as you like. That’s what he would say.

And here, at this moment on the Going Luffy Senpai, it felt an awful lot like a new beginning

fin

#Caitlin's Fic #Trafalgar Law #Monkey D. Luffy #Lawlu #opbingo2020 #One Piece #One Piece fanfiction

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shawnssongs · 4 years

Text

A New Start

pairing: topper thornton x reader

wc: 1478

warnings: unedited, mention of parental disappointment

summary: topper is a mess after sarah goes missing, and the reader wants to help him out despite protests from JJ

masterlist

gif from @water-aesthetics

“That was weak!” JJ mocked as the two of you made your way back up the beach from a rather unsuccessful session of surfing. Well, unsuccessful on your part.

“Shut up, JJ.” You joke, punching him lightly on the arm, causing him to laugh.

“You know, you really gotta get better at that now that John B’s gone.”

You gulped at the mention of your friend. Gone. Missing. Maybe dead. The fact that you weren’t sure is what killed you. You friends could be alive and having the time of their lives down in Mexico like they’d planned, they could be stranded in the middle of the ocean with no food or water, they could be lost at sea. There was no way of knowing.

“I was just distracted,” you mumble, your thoughts upsetting you a bit.

JJ quirks his eyebrow. “Distracted by what?”

You turn slightly, your best friend following your gaze to a certain blond boy, sat in the sand with his knees bent in front of him, staring out to sea. He was wearing a pair of board shorts and a dirty looking tee shirt, sunglasses covering the bags under his eyes. He’d been there since you and JJ had arrived, and he only ever moved to lift the bottle concealed in a brown paper bag up to his mouth for a swig.

JJ scoffs. “Topper distracted you? He’s been sitting there like a statue, drunk off his ass for days.”

You just roll your eyes and help JJ tie your boards to the top of the Volkswagen which he’d inherited when John B left.

“Chateau or your place?” JJ asked. He’d been staying at your house often, your parents being gracious enough to offer him as much food as they could spare. He hadn’t even tried to go back home after taking the phantom other than the one time he went to pack clothes, but he made sure his dad wasn’t home first. When JJ wasn’t at yours, he spent his time at the Chateau.

“Um, my mom’s cooking, so you can head to mine. I’ll meet you there.”

You start to turn but JJ stops you. “Wait meet me? You’re going back?”

You nodded your head. “JJ, he lost someone he loved too. And he has no one.”

“Oh please.” JJ countered. “He’s the king of the kooks. He has everyone.”

You shook your head at JJ’s ignorance. “He can’t talk to his mom. He can’t talk to Kelce. He can’t talk to Rafe.” Kelce didn’t understand the feeling, and Topper lost someone he loved, but Rafe lost his sister. He couldn’t talk to them.

“Rafe fucking caused it-”

“JJ,” you warn. Every time JJ let his mind wander to the kook, he’d let himself get mad. You’ve spent a few different nights trying to clean up the messes JJ made in the Chateau from his outbursts, punching walls and kicking things. If he didn’t already hate Rafe, he sure did now.

“Look, Jay, just go home. I’ll meet you there.”

JJ shook his head, still disagreeing with what you were about to do, but he obliged and let you go.

When you could no longer hear the hum of the engine, you padded through the sand toward’s Topper’s form. Not a muscle moved in his body as you sat down next to him in the sand, and if you couldn’t see that his eyes were open behind his sunglasses from the angle you were at, you probably would’ve thought he’d fallen asleep.

You sat there for a few minutes, staring out to sea like Topper. You weren’t sure what to say, but you wanted to keep him company.

After taking a sip of whatever alcohol he had in that paper bag, he reached his hand across his body, offering the bottle to you.

You shake your head, “I’m good,” so Topper shrugs and takes it for himself once again.

“How are you?” You ask, cringing at the words.

Surprisingly, he answers you. “Upset.” Pause. “Lonely.” You give him time to continue, but just as you were about to speak, he adds on one more. “Angry.”

You nod.

“Why are you here?” He asked, finally turning to face you.

You shrug. “You looked like you needed someone.”

“I don’t.”

“Topper, I know what you’re feeling. I’ve known John B since I was born. He was practically my brother.”

“Y’know, it doesn’t even hurt that it was John B.” Topper spoke quickly, interrupting your story and catching you off guard.

“What?” You asked, eyes wide.

“Sarah. It doesn’t bother me that she left me for John B.” He clarified.

“So what is it?”

“I loved her and she didn’t love me back, and I was an asshole about it because I knew. I knew I couldn’t hold on to her. Now she’s...” He trailed off, turning to face the horizon once again.

“John B was my first love.”

Topper scoffed at your confession.

“Hear me out, Top. I used to have the biggest crush on him. I followed him everywhere, did everything he did in hopes for that small chance he’d like me back.” You chuckle at yourself. “It lasted years.”

Topper turns to you and you can tell he waiting for the point of your story.

“And then I got over it.”

“How?”

“Because it wasn’t really love. It was infatuation.”

“How do you know the difference?”

“You don’t.” You shake your head, trying to look into Topper’s eyes, but staring right back into your own through the reflection of his sunglasses. “Not until it’s over.”

“Well things are pretty over between me and Sarah,” he sneered.

“Yeah, but your feelings for her aren’t. They will be, Top. Trust me.”

Topper didn’t respond and the two of you sat in silence, yet again. When your eyes drifted from the horizon to the dirty blond next to you, you couldn’t help but see Topper in a different light. He had been horrible to you and your friends, but he was just like you. He was just like JJ. He was a teenager that felt too much, gave into peer pressure too easily because he had no confidence in himself. Here he was, contemplating everything because he didn’t know who he was without Sarah or Rafe. He just needed time to find himself.

Topper could feel your eyes on him, so when you looked away, he would take the chance to watch you. The two of you had never been friends. He was horrible to you and the pogues, so why were you here? Why did you seem to care about him? The longer he sat there, the more he studied you. You were tanned from the sun, freckles adorning your skin. Your hair was mostly dry now, wavy and tangled since you hadn’t gotten a chance to brush it after surfing. Topper had noticed that too. He’d deny it, but he’d been watching you surf all day. Something about you was so intriguing to him. He found himself regretting all his choices in the past. He wasn’t a good guy, just like his mom would always say to him, and he wanted to fix that.

After a little while longer, Topper stood up, reaching his hand out to you.

You took it with pleasure and let him help you up out of the sand.

“Do you want to um, get something to eat?” He asked, his voice unsteady.

You give a soft smile to the boy in front of you before answering. “Um, I would...”

Of course, Topper thought to himself. You were just being kind, you couldn’t really car—

“but my mom is cooking,” you continued. “I have to get home.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I do want to, though.” You assured, placing your hand on Topper’s arm.

He hadn’t realized it, but Topper hadn’t felt any sort of human contact, any touch in days and your soft skin sent tingles throughout his body.

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah. I’d um, I would invite you over but JJ’s there...” you trailed off. Topper would get the gist.

“No, I get it. If I were JJ, I wouldn’t want to see me either.”

You smile at the boy, finally removing your hand from his arm. “Bye, Top.”

He was about to let you go, but there was something left unsaid. “Wait!” He stopped you, this time him being the one to grip your arm. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Thank you.” You accept his apology. You could tell it was genuine. You’d usually say there’s no reason to be sorry, but in Topper’s case, there was.

Topper knew he should let you go, but for some reason he couldn’t. “Do you, uh. I know I can’t be there but, can I walk you home?”

You couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

part 2?

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Season 3a; Episode 11: Alpha Pact

Hello all! After this one there is only one more chapter of season 3a! If you guys are liking the story and want to be added to the taglist let me know! As always constructive criticism is welcomed. And please make sure to answer my pinned post if you like the 100!

Season 3a; Episode 11: Alpha Pact

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend

Warnings: panic attack, swearing

Word Count: 4,112

Season 3a masterlist

Hearing someone running down the stairs, I turned to see Stiles. "Where's Scott? Where's my mom?"

Stiles sighs, "Jennifer took your mom. And Scott..." He trails off.

"Stiles, what happened?"

"He went with Deucalion." My mouth falls open in shock, unsure of how to process this new information. Rather than thinking about it right now I decided to turn back around to try and get Derek to wake up.

After a few more agonizingly long minutes Derek slowly blinks his eyes open. Spotting me and Stiles above him, he pushes himself into a sitting position and asks, "Where is she?"

"Jennifer? Gone." Stiles answers.

"With my mom." I quietly add, still trying to process the fact that my only two family members are with psychopaths.

"She took her?" Derek questions.

Stiles nods, "Yeah. And if that wasn't enough of a kick to the balls, Scott also left with Deucalion. So get up. The police are coming and we need to get you the hell out of here."

Stiles and I both help Derek off of the elevator floor, "What about Cora?" The Alpha asks, concerned for his sister.

"She made it out with Peter and Isaac." I answer as we make our way to the exit.

"You should go with him, (Y/N/N)." Stiles speaks up.

I quickly shake my head, "No, I'm staying with you." Stiles sighs but nods.

Before Derek gets the chance to leave, I pull him into a quick hug. "Be careful. And please keep us updated."

Derek awkwardly pats my back, "Uh, yeah. You too."

Stiles raises his eyebrow in question once Derek is gone, "What? I'm his favorite. I can get away with doing things like that." I shrug in response.

Stiles shakes his head, though a small smile forms on his lips. "Let's go wait for the cops." He says, leading me over to the waiting room chairs.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Stiles and I sat side-by-side holding tightly to each other's hand. We needed some sort of comfort since both of our parents were taken by Jennifer and Scott decided to be friendly with the demon wolf.

We looked up at the sound of the hospital doors opening. My mouth fell open as I saw an FBI agent making his way towards us, "Do you think he saw me? Can I make a run for it?" I quietly ask Stiles.

"I'm pretty sure he saw you." He gave my hand a squeeze. "I'll be right here for you the whole time."

Once the Agent approaches I quickly look down at mine and Stiles entwined hands, refusing to make eye contact. I start focusing on my breathing, counting inside my head but also focusing on the words exchanged between the two guys near me.

"A Stilinski at the center of all this mess. What a shocker." My jaw clenches at his words and I can feel Stiles becoming more annoyed by the second. "Though I do wish you weren't here, (Y/N)."

Neither Stiles nor I answer. "Do you think you can give me some answers without the usual level of sarcasm?"

"If you can ask them without the usual level of stupid." Stiles replies, glaring at the man.

I start to play with Stiles fingers as I hear the Agent speak once more, "Where's your dad and why has nobody been able to contact him?"

"I don't know. Haven't seen him in hours." Stiles answers.

"Is he drinking again?"

"What do you mean again? He never had to stop." Stiles spits out.

"That was you." I mumbled under my breath, but both men heard me.

The agent sighs but chooses to ignore my words, "But he did have to slow down. Is he drinking like he used to?"

"How about next time I see him I give him a field sobriety test? We'll do the alphabet starting with F and ending with U." Stiles angrily says, making me smile lightly.

"How about you just tell me what the hell happened here?" The agent asks, trying a different approach.

"We don't know. We were stuck in the elevator the whole time." Stiles answers, sticking to the lie we came up with earlier.

"You're not the one who put the name on the doors, are you?"

For the first time in the conversation I look up, exchanging a look with Stiles. "What name?" We ask together.

"Argent. Do you know who that is?" Stiles and I both nod in response, not feeling the need to answer considering the agent probably already knows who they are too.

"Well you can leave Stiles, I would like to talk with my daughter."

"I stopped being your daughter the day you left me and Scott. If Stiles is leaving I am too. And you can't make me stay." I glare at the man. I look back to Stiles and tug on his hand, "Come on."

*_*_*_*_*_*

Stiles and I quickly make our way to the Argent's to let them know that their name was left on the elevator doors at the hospital. "The word is Guardian, Allison. More than anyone, you know that's a role I haven't exactly lived up to lately." Mr. Argent says to his daughter.

We move down the hall, walking into Mr. Argent's office. "But she took Mrs. McCall and Stiles' father. That's not a coincidence." Allison argues.

"I'd also consider the fact someone put your name in large block letters on the elevator doors. That kind of felt like a pretty big warning to me." Stiles adds.

"I think it might have been Morrell. I think she knows a lot more than she lets on. She might even be trying to help us."

"Well she needs to get on that a lot faster since the lunar eclipse is less than two freaking nights away."

Stiles fell into a chair as I chewed on my bottom lip. "Stiles, don't give up hope." Mr. Argent says, looking at the teenager.

"They could already be dead."

"I don't think so. There's something about Jennifer's tactics. It's like she's still positioning. Still moving pieces into place."

"And you're one of them." Allison says.

"Okay." Mr. Argent sighs, "Then let's not wait around to see her next move."

He lays out a map then continues speaking, "Everything she's done has been on a Telluric Current. So Melissa and the Sheriff have to be somewhere on one of the Currents, right?"

"That would make sense." I answer. Though Mr. Argent is looking at Stiles.

"Stiles, if we're going to find them, we need your help."

"You seriously want to go after her? Have you even seen what she's been able to do? She tossed Scott across the room like it was nothing." I place a comforting hand on Stiles shoulder as he speaks, understanding his concern and frustration.

"What if she just takes you like the others? I mean, no offense, but what's the difference between you and them?" Stiles continues.

"I'm carrying a .45." Mr. Argent places the gun on top of the map. "Maybe she can heal from a shot to the leg and a few slashes to the face. But, personally, I'd like to see how she holds up with half her skull blown off. We've got one priority right now. Find your mom," He says looking at me.

He then turns to Stiles, "And your dad. We've got a map and every clue we need to figure this out. The only thing we don't have is time. Which is why I need all three of you."

"We can do this. We have to." I say, giving Stiles’ shoulder a squeeze.

Stiles nods in response, "Where do we start?" We all gather around the map as Mr. Argent pulls out a black light.

"The place where the sacrifices have been committed have usually been different from where the bodies have been found. I think the placement has to do with the strength of the Current. So there's the School, the Animal Clinic, the Bank."

"What about the motel?" Stiles asks.

"I don't think she'd take them that far."

"This still looks like too much ground to cover. We could spend weeks looking at all the possibilities." Allison says.

"She must have some sort of pattern that she follows." I add in.

"She wouldn't use the same place twice, would she?" Stiles questions.

"Only if she didn't succeed the first time." Mr. Argent says. He moves his finger to point at the bank.

"Scott's boss?" Allison asks her father.

"Deaton. It was her only failure. That could mean something."

"So we should go check it out, right?"

"Definitely."

"But that's just one place so far. We need more help." Stiles says.

"What about Lydia?"

"Lydia? What can she do?" Mr. Argent asks.

"She's found a few of the bodies without meaning to. It has to be related to the supernatural but we're not sure what she is yet." I answer. I then turn to look at Allison, "We can try to see if she knows anything but she still doesn't know how to control it. And if they are still alive she may not even be able to help."

Allison and her father nod. They then turn to start collecting weapons so that they can go to the bank and try to find my mom and the Sheriff. Stiles and I look on in awe as we see the two Argent's pull out weapon after weapon. "I thought you guys were retired?" Stiles asks.

"Retired, yes." Mr. Argent says, "Defenseless, no. Now make sure your phone's on. If you hear from Scott, let us know immediately."

"I'm thinking that's going to be kind of unlikely." At Stiles' words, he, Allison and I share a look.

"The three of you, try to remember he's just doing what he thinks is right. I've seen that seventeen year old boy come through more often than most men I've known. Don't give up yet."

"I'll never give up on my brother." I say, a look of determination on my face. Stiles gives a nod as we turn our attention to Allison.

She isn't paying attention to us but rather looking towards the door. We follow her gaze to see Isaac, "How did you get in here?" Mr. Argent asks.

"Through her window." Isaac replies, glancing at Allison. "Sorry. I just. I want to help. I can't shoot a gun or use a crossbow. But I'm starting to get pretty good with these." He opens his hand to reveal his claws.

"We'll take it." Mr. Argent says.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Stiles and I are now sitting in Lydia's room, telling her about what occured at the hospital. "I don't believe it. Scott can't really be with them. He can't be." She says, shaking her head.

"You didn't see the look on his face. It was the same one I saw on my mother when the doctors told her there was nothing they could do. It was just total hopelessness." Stiles replies.

"I still think he'll come through. It's Scott we're talking about. He'll never do anything to harm someone." I say.

"What do I do?" Lydia asks, "I mean I get that I'm like some kind of human Geiger counter for death. But I don't know how to turn it on and off yet. All I know is she tried to kill me because of..." She trails off.

"Because of what? Lydia?" I ask, lightly grabbing my best friend's hand.

"She called me a Banshee. (Y/N/N), you were on the right track. I'm a Banshee. She was surprised by it. What if that's not why she tried to kill me?"

"Then why did she?" Stiles questions.

"That's what we need to find out."

*_*_*_*_*_*

Stiles, Lydia, and I walk through the school hallways. Lydia keeps glancing at her phone, "Aiden's not texting me back."

The sound of my phone beeping stops her from saying anything else, "What? Oh God, what is it now?" She asks me as I look at the text.

"It's Isaac. Jennifer took Allison's father. That means she has all three of them now." I reply. I stare down at my phone and quickly reply only to shove it in my pocket a second later.

Lydia's voice breaks me out of my thoughts, "Stiles? Are you okay?"

I quickly turn to face him, seeing that his breathing is becoming irregular. "No." He mutters out.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"He's having a panic attack." I answer, already knowing the symptoms.

I gently take him by his arm as I bring him into the locker room. "Just think about something else. Anything else." Lydia says as she follows us into the room.

"Like?" Stiles asks.

I lower him to a sitting position as Lydia continues, "Happy things. Good things. Friends, family- I mean- not family."

"I love you Lyds, but please shut the fuck up." I say as gently as possible.

"I can't- I can't." Stiles says, breath becoming more rapid. His hands are placed firmly on his knees. Without much thought I gently grab his face, forcing him to look at me.

"Stiles. Look at me. Focus on my voice. Match my breathing." He gasps for breath, still not being able to stop the panic attack. Finally, I close the distance between our faces and kiss him.

After a brief moment, he gently begins to kiss back. Our lips slowly part, Stiles' body relaxes as he opens his eyes to look at me. "How did you do that?" He quietly asks.

"Holding your breath helps you regain control of your breathing. When I kissed you, you held your breath."

"I did?"

"You did."

"How did you know that holding your breath helps?"

"I started having panic attacks after my dad left. Plus I used the same trick on Isaac not too long ago." I shrug.

"Thanks, that was really smart."

"It was nothing." I shrug once more.

Lydia speaks up, "Well if I was really smart I'd tell you to sign up for a few sessions with the Guidance Counselor. Both of you."

"Morrell." Stiles says.

"She knows more than you'd expect."

I scoff, "Yeah, you can say that again." Stiles and I share a knowing look. I help him stand back up so that we can go talk with Morrell.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Once we made it to Morrell's office we saw a girl waiting, "You here for Ms. Morrell?" Stiles asks.

"No, I thought this was gym class." I would have laughed at her sarcastic reply if we weren't in such a rush to find the woman in question.

"Sweetheart, we're not in the mood for funny. Do you know where she is?" Lydia questions.

"If I did I wouldn't have been waiting here for twenty minutes. So how about you three back out the door and wait your turn."

"We're not here for a session."

"Well I am. And I've got some serious issues to work on."

"You're Danielle. You're Heather's best friend." Stiles says, realizing who the girl is.

"I was Heather's best friend. We've been working on that issue three times a week."

"Hold on. Did you say Morrell's twenty minutes late?" Lydia asks, bringing the attention back to her.

Danielle nods, "And I don't know why either. She's always on time."

Lydia turns her attention to Stiles and I, "I was seeing her at the beginning of the semester. She was never late. Not even a minute."

"Three guesses on where she is." I say looking at Stiles.

"I want to know what she knows." Stiles replies. He starts rifling through papers on her desk then moves to the filing cabinet when he doesn't find anything. I turn to help as the other two look on in shock.

"What are you two doing?" Danielle asks.

"Trying to find her."

"Those files are private."

"She's kinda right." Lydia pipes in.

"Here's yours." Stiles says, pulling out Lydia's file.

"Let me see that." Lydia grabs the file from Stiles hand. She opens it, looking inside. The rest of us looked over her shoulder to see.

"Wait. That's your drawing."

"Yeah, I know. It's a tree."

"You're good." Danielle says, impressed.

Lydia brightly smiles, "Thank you."

"That's the same one." Stiles says.

I gently pull the drawing out of the file to get a better look as Lydia asks him, "The same as what?"

"The same one I've seen you drawing in class."

"It's a tree. I like drawing trees."

"No, he means it's the same one. Like the exact same." I reply, finally tearing my eyes away from the drawing.

"Let me see your bag." Stiles says. He opens her bag to pull out her notebook. When he opens it we see the same drawing found on page after page. The only difference is the size of each drawing.

"Okay, you can have my session. You've got bigger issues." Danielle replies, she stands up and walks out of the room, though the rest of us don't pay much attention.

"What is this?" Lydia asks, clearly frightened.

Stiles and I are both quiet as we study the drawings, "Wait. What if it's not supposed to be looked at this way?" I speak up. I take one of the drawings and turn it upside down.

"I know where they are." Stiles says.

"The root cellar." I add, voiced laced with disbelief.

After putting Lydia's file back where we found it we rushed out of Morrell's office. "It's the Nemeton. That's where she's keeping them. It has to be."

"(Y/N), Stilinski!" A voice calls from down the hall.

"I'm not dealing with this right now." I say as soon as my eyes meet my fathers.

"I will, don't worry." Stiles reassures.

"We'll go to Derek's. Him and Peter will know where it is." Stiles nods at my words. I grab Lydia's hand as I tug her away.

"Was that your dad?" Lydia asks.

"Yes, I don't want to interact with him anymore than I need to."

*_*_*_*_*_*

I reach to open the loft door without knocking but stop when it slides open to reveal Peter. "You." Lydia says in shock.

"Me." Peter replies.

Lydia's anger rises, "You."

Peter winces at her tone, "Me." He says once more, almost sounding apologetic. "Derek. We have visitors."

Peter steps back to let us in. We walk past him to see Derek beside Cora. "How is she?" I ask, laying a gentle hand on the Alpha's shoulder.

"Not getting any better." He replies. He then turns around to properly face Lydia and I. "What do you girls need?"

We quickly explain the situation to both Peter and Derek and wait for them to reply. Though when they answer, it isn't what we wanted to hear. "You don't know where it is?" Lydia asks, confused.

"We did. After a few memorable experiences, though..." He shares a look with Derek. "Talia- Derek's mother and my older sister- decided she didn't want us ever going back. She knew how dangerous it was. So she took the memory of its location from us."

"So how do we find out where it is?" I ask, my frustration rising.

*_*_*_*_*_*

After leaving Derek's loft we met up with Stiles, Isaac, and Allison at the Animal Clinic. All of us, plus the vet, stood around an exam table, "It has to be on a Telluric Current. Maybe even at the axis of two. Or where all intersect. I know it's where Derek took Paige to die." Stiles speaks, glancing at me as he says the last part.

"My dad and Gerard were there once. But Gerard said it was years ago and he couldn't remember where it was. And my dad obviously isn't going to be able to tell us now." Allison says.

"Mine either."

"She took everyone who would remember." Lydia pipes in.

"Then how do we find this place?" Isaac questions.

"That's the same question I asked Peter and Derek. They didn't have an answer." I reply.

We turn to Deaton, "Doc?" Stiles asks.

Deaton sighs, "There might be a way. But it's dangerous. And most importantly, for it to work... We're going to need Scott."

*_*_*_*_*_*

Stiles, Deaton, and I stood in front of Stiles jeep. The headlights of the car lighting up the darkness around us. Scott steps out from the shadows, slowly making his way over to us. "How did you find out?" Scott asks.

"Lydia. You?" Stiles answers.

"Morrell. But none of the Alphas know where it is either."

"If this works, are you going to tell them?"

"I can't stop Jennifer without them."

"How about we concentrate on finding your parents first?" Deaton pipes in.

Scott nods, "What's the plan?"

"Essentially, you, Allison and Stiles need to be surrogate sacrifices for your parents."

"So we die for them?"

"But he can bring us back." Stiles says. He then turns to Deaton, "You can definitely bring us back, right?"

"Hopefully, yes."

"Hopefully?" I ask, bringing the attention to me.

"You remember the part where I said it was dangerous?" Deaton then turns to Scott, "If it goes right, the three of you will only be dead for a few seconds. But there's something else you need to think about. This is a dangerous thing in more ways than one. You'll be giving power back to the Nemeton. A place that hasn't had power for a long time. When it did, Beacon Hills was quite different. This kind of power is like a magnet."

"A magnet for the supernatural?" I ask.

Deaton nods so Stiles speaks, "Doesn't sound any worse than what we've already seen."

"You'd be surprised what you have yet to see." Deaton ominously says.

"Is that it?" Scott asks, hoping that that's all there is to worry about.

"No. It'll also have an affect on the three of you. You won't be able to see it, but you'll feel it every day for the rest of your lives. It'll be a kind of darkness over your heart. And permanent. Like a scar."

"Like a tattoo." Scott whispers.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Reconvening at the Animal Clinic, Scott, Stiles and Allison step towards the tubs filled with ice. "All right. What did you bring?" Deaton asks the three teenagers.

Stiles holds up his dad's badge, "Jennifer kind of crushed it in her hand. I hammered it out a bit. Still doesn't look great."

"It doesn't have to look good if it has meaning." Deaton's eyes then move to Allison.

She holds up a silver bullet, "Is that an actual silver bullet?" Isaac asks, looking at it cautiously.

"My dad made it. It's sort of a ceremonial thing. When one of us finishes learning all the skills to be a Hunter, you forge your own silver bullet as a testament to the code." Allison replies.

"Scott?" Deaton asks, looking at my twin.

He holds up mom's watch, "My dad gave this to my mom when she first got hired at the hospital. She used to say it was the only thing in their marriage that ever worked."

Stiles looks it over, "It says water-resistant. Not waterproof."

"I don't think she's going to mind if it saves her life."

"Okay, the three of you will get in. Each of us will hold you down until you're essentially... well, dead. But it's not just someone to hold you under. It's someone who can pull you back. Someone with a strong connection to you. A kind of emotional tether."

Lydia immediately starts moving towards Allison while I move towards Scott. "(Y/N), you go with Stiles."

"Scott's my twin though. I'm pretty sure we have the biggest emotional connection." I say, giving the vet a questioning look.

"You'll be able to bring Stiles back and Isaac will be able to bring Scott."

I look in between Scott and Stiles, unsure what to do. Scott gives me an encouraging nod, "It's okay."

We all take our places and the trio steps into the tubs. They shiver as they sit down and Stiles turns towards Scott, "By the way, if I don't come back and you do, you should probably know something. Your dad's in town."

Scott quickly glances at me seeing an unreadable expression on my face. I give him a brief nod then he turns back around to focus on the task at hand. In an instant Isaac, Lydia, and I all push our respective people under the water, waiting until they lay still.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @crazy-fan-101 @rogershoe @judayyyw

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf rewrite #series rewrite #sister mccall imagine #lydia martin imagine

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treatian · 3 years

Text

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Magical Loopholes

Chapter 66: Honesty of the Heart

The job was done. The task was complete. The voices in his head told him he was an idiot, told him that he was being stupid and taking a risk and would probably soon die by her hand when she betrayed them.

So he took that hand and shut them out. He let the warmth from her body move through his own and knew, without a doubt in his mind, that she was truly different. Unlike Cora, who he'd instantly regretted telling about the dagger, he felt not one worry over telling Belle, showing it to her, letting her know where it was hidden. He had the very certain feeling that if he'd allowed her to touch it, to hold it, she would have given it back. She didn't want the dagger. For some reason, he still to this day could not fathom, what she wanted was him. And of all the things he should want in this world, she was at the top of his list, a very close tie with Baelfire.

He couldn't stop touching her. After all that they'd done, after all they'd accomplished tonight, and even since she'd reappeared in his shop alive again, he didn't particularly want to stop touching her. And slowly, as their evening progressed, her hand was not enough for him. Their proximity shrank little by little. On the elevator, her hand became her arm. In the Library lobby, her arm became her back. Up the stairs to her apartment, he'd moved his arm around her waist to pull her closer. And when she'd left his side to fetch them dinner, the chill that she'd left had been enough that if he didn't press his leg into hers while they ate, then he'd never get the sustenance he needed.

It was the dishes that undid him. The moment she cleared away their clutter and stood by the sink to wash and scrub so they could go to bed grated on him. He didn't care for dishes or formalities. He didn't want to take her hard and fast as he had "last time." He just wanted to enjoy the night ahead. He wanted to leave what could wait for morning and live in this moment they were having.

He slipped an arm around her waist as she washed and pulled her closer to him so that she let out a happy girlish sound before he moved her hair over her shoulder and kissed the heated skin at the back of her neck. The sound she made when he did that was far more carnal and sophisticated all at once, and he realized quickly enough that her hands had gone still in the sink.

"This really won't take that long," she whispered, her voice so husky her rib cage vibrated against his own chest.

"It can be done later," he pointed out, and then they were gone. A tangle of limbs and tongues, they crashed into one another in the silent understanding that there was time to be made up for. They exchanged very few words with one another; words were not necessary. They'd exchanged plenty of words in these last few days, and he couldn't help but feel that it was because of that talking that they felt more deeply connected to one another than they had been before. Once, twice…he lost count after three.

They'd finally settled hours after they'd tumbled into bed. The sheets were a tangled mess around them, but they'd tried their best to right them as they'd leaned back into her bed with the silent understanding that this time there would be sleep. After they'd spent themselves, even he felt tired and longed to drop into rest.

What a wonderful way to end-

"Rumple?"

He breathed; her voice called him forth from the depths of rest to the shallowest part of consciousness where sleep eagerly fought to pull him back down. He shifted to ground himself and realized he'd been so close to sleep that he'd stopped rubbing her back.

"What?" he slurred as he forced his hand to move over her again.

"I can't sleep."

He didn't know how that was possible. He was the Dark One, and he was exhausted. She'd worn him out. How she couldn't manage just to close her eyes as she always did and let sleep come eluded him.

"Just close your eyes," he whispered, kissing her head. "It'll come eventually."

She was human. After the marathon they'd just endured, he was fairly positive it was impossible not to find sleep eventually. Sex was only half the reward. The other half was a deep, restful-

"Rumple?"

He made a noise to let her know he was awake, but it was only just barely.

"Who's Cora?"

He was awake. Suddenly and completely and wholly awake. How could he not be? He wasn't sure that she'd ever caught him by surprise like this.

"Rumple?"

"Belle…" he tried to make it sound gentle, but it practically came out as a growl. Days after the Cora incident…what the hell had brought this out? He'd promised to have a conversation with her about Cora, and he'd meant it but not here or now. Naked and in bed with her, the glow coming off her skin…this was not the right time.

"You really don't need to know that right now," he insisted.

But the answer seemed less than understandable to her as she pulled away and balanced on her elbow. "You told me you wanted me to know everything," she reminded him. "You said you would tell me-"

"Yes, but not now!" he argued. "Why do you need to know now?!"

"She knew about the dagger, Rumple. That's why you moved it!"

He opened his mouth to argue but realized he couldn't. No, he hadn't actually said those words exactly, but yes, he'd said Cora's name when they'd talked yesterday, and...yes, he'd implied it certainly. And Belle, being who she was, had been smart enough to put two and two together and...

Fuck!

"I want to understand why she knew about it. Tell me. Who's Cora?"

He knew that tone. She wasn't going to sleep until she had her answers, until they'd had this conversation. This wasn't the time or the place that he'd imagined having it, but it appeared he didn't have a choice.

Fuck.

"Cora…" he sighed and got his hands under him, managing to lift himself into a sitting position as if that would make this less awkward, "is Regina's mother."

Another lie, just as he'd inadvertently told her earlier. Well, not a lie really, just not the entire truth, not the one she wanted.

"And how do you know her?" she prompted, seeing through his half truthful lies. But to mention to her the relationship he'd shared with Cora while they were like this, in bed, after they'd been intimate as they had been…he hated it. What would he give to be having this conversation elsewhere right now?

"Rumple," she muttered suddenly, reaching out to hold his hand between her own. "You can tell me anything."

Anything. Yes, he believed that. She'd proved that time and time again facing even his worst deeds as though they were nothing. But this…

Yes. It wasn't the time or the place, but she didn't know that. In the end she might come to regret it as much as he did, but she could take it. Could he?

"Cora was the daughter of a miller when I met her," he explained. "She'd gotten herself into trouble, telling the king that she could spin straw into gold, which she couldn't-"

"Which you could," she stated as if it were obvious. Indeed, it was.

He nodded. "She'd been given until morning to spin a room of straw into gold. She was desperate so I made a deal with her. I would spin the gold she required, and she would give me her first-born child."

"A…a child?" she questioned, furrowing her brow in nervous confusion that he batted away with his hand as if it were a fly. That detail, at least, was unimportant for her.

"I needed Regina to cast the Curse. I knew the child she bore would be the one to do it. But…Cora was smart. She didn't want me to spin the gold, she wanted me to teach her to spin the gold. She wanted me to teach her magic. She was…independent. I agreed to her condition, and when the king saw the gold that she had spun the next morning he gave her his son to marry."

He needed to go on, well aware that this was not where the story ended, it wasn't even the important part that she needed! He needed to tell her the rest! But damn, this was hard. Harder than the dagger. Maybe even harder than Baelfire. He couldn't understand why. Cora was nothing to him. But it was humiliating in so many ways. Coward…that part of him he kept hidden from all the world but not from her…oh, how he hoped she'd see past this. He hoped that she'd see that he treasured her so much more than he'd ever cared for Cora. She'd taken the news of Milah well, but Milah had betrayed him; left him. He'd let Cora pursue him and had cared for her more than he should have. Not the way he loved her, but-

"And?" Belle prodded beside him when he'd gone silent too long.

And…

He glanced at her wishing the truth wasn't what it was, but he had to tell her no matter what. This was the honesty of the heart that David had spoken of, the honesty that had brought them so far. He could do this.

"She was intoxicating," he admitted. "And clever, and greedy, and…she was a fair match for a monster like me."

He saw recognition and understanding pass over her face, and he knew, right then, that she knew what he wasn't saying. She understood. And he hated it.

"You, uh…you…you cared for her?"

"Not like this!" he insisted perhaps a bit too strongly, gripping her hand tight. "Never like this."

They had never consummated the sham of a relationship that they'd carried out, something he was eternally grateful for now in so many ways. But he also knew there was a time that he'd wanted to. He knew there was a time, just after he'd told Cora about the dagger, that he'd come close, oh so close, to crossing that threshold with her. He hadn't. For the same way that he'd managed to cross it tonight, over and over and over again, with Belle. Trust. He hadn't trusted Cora. Not wholly or completely. He'd loved her at that time, but some small part of him had distrusted her. She hadn't been enough to keep the Dark Ones quiet. She had been nothing like his Belle.

"So…what happened?" she prompted.

"She tricked me," he stated, his teeth grinding at the memory that was somehow still fresh enough to become painful, especially when he considered the woman who was now before him. "She used my own emotions against me. She convinced me that she wasn't satisfied with being a trophy, on the arm of the Prince forever, and would rather have me. I amended our previous agreement that she'd give me not her firstborn child, but our firstborn child."

She didn't like that. He noticed the way her breath hitched, the twitch in her jaw, the beat of her heart. He understood that reaction. He felt it too and was incredibly grateful now, looking back, that he hadn't followed through with that, no matter the trouble it had caused him during Regina's childhood.

"Obviously that never happened…"

"Why?" she pressed almost painfully.

He tried not to let the questioning frustrate him. He tried to remember that he'd be asking the same question if he were in her shoes. But he hated everything about this conversation. Everything about Cora. Everything about that time in his life. At this point, he just wanted to get it over with.

"All she wanted was for her daughter to someday be Queen," he answered honestly. "All she wanted was power and she surely wouldn't have gotten that with me. She manipulated me to change the deal so that I would never receive the child for helping her because the child would never exist. She went on to become a bitter old woman incapable of feeling anything for anyone including Regina!"

The end.

"And you eventually got the Queen to cast the Curse to this land," she concluded for him.

He met her eyes and nodded.

That was it. That was the story with the addition of an epilogue, far more than he was comfortable telling, but he'd done it anyway. Now maybe they could forget about the entire thing, truly forget about it, both of them, and get some sleep.

"And she knew about the dagger, about…about Baelfire?"

"She knew," he confirmed. "She knew certain aspects of my life before I was the Dark One, yes." The second she cast her gaze away, he tightened the grip he had on her hand. This was what he didn't want. He didn't want her to feel like she wasn't as special to him as she was. She didn't want her to feel jealous or inferior. "But I've never disclosed as much to another soul as I have to you."

She turned back to him, and her chin tipped up to search his gaze, something like hope flickering between his eyes. Finally a break. A small one, but a break, so good news he could give to her.

"I've lived a long time," he breathed. "And there have been others, only a handful, here and there, that have managed to get some glimpse of my life and my plans. But no one has ever held so much of my past as you do. Cora knew I had a son…but she didn't even know his name!" he realized suddenly, overwhelmed at the realization he'd stumbled upon. He'd never considered that before. He'd never shared Bae's name with anyone who hadn't known it before…save for one person.

"No one but you has ever known that."

She liked that. She liked it a lot. Every muscle in her body that had tightened through the tale suddenly eased and a small smile curved over her mouth. He looked down at their joined hands, a gesture he realized they often did, so many times without ever realizing it. He'd had sex before her, he'd had love before her, but he'd never had intimacy. He'd never had security with sex and love joined in one perfect person.

He hated this conversation.

He loved her.

"You kissed her?"

His gaze shot off their hands and he immediately looked to her, hoping that he'd heard the question wrong. Was she really asking that? Now? Here? After they'd just barely gotten through that conversation? She really wanted to add insult to injury?

Yes, she did. In his silence she raised her eyebrows at him, prodding him silently.

"Yes," he was finally forced to answer.

"While you were cursed," she pressed. "You kissed her while you were cursed?"

"Multiple times!" And he didn't see why it was important, or she was-

"And you remained cursed. After you kissed her…you were still cursed?"

He opened his mouth to respond but had to close it again as the realization of what she was getting at dawned on him. He smiled at the minx beside him, the woman who held his hand and his heart and was jealous enough over the worst relationship of his life to make sure there was one last thing about their relationship that she cherished, that she could hold above the head of any others who may have come before.

"Yes," he confirmed happily for her. "Yes, I remained cursed each and every time."

A smile, proud and happy, spread over her face. She nodded with certainty as if she'd gotten the answer he knew she'd wanted, and he was pleased that it was a truthful answer, pleased to share in the joy of that one unique quality that she and she alone would always possess.

"Good," she muttered before leaning up to kiss him and then settle against his side as she always did. "Sounds like you won in the end."

His arm wrapped around her automatically, no matter how shocked he was by the sudden easy way she'd settled into him. He was helpless to return her gesture, to settle back into the bed so that they could sleep soundly and hold each other as they drifted off.

He'd won in the end. He'd always insisted that. He might have lost a battle to Cora, but he most certainly had won the war. And when it came to women and not to luck, when it came down to what their relationship had been and the relationship he shared with the beauty beside him now…

"Yes," he agreed, kissing the top of her head once more before letting his own fall back on the pillow so he could close his eyes. "For once in my life I was the lucky one."

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #mr. Gold #Belle #Cora #Queen of Hearts #Regina Mills #Evil Queen #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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rip66613 · 3 years

Text

Cora Part 1

TRIGGER WARNING: Religion and illness

Prologue

He was going insane. Sam lay in bed, glaring across the room at the two people who claimed to be on his side. He wished they could understand his pain.

The small stone house was chilly, but Sam was sweating under the piles of blankets they had put on him. His blond hair was plastered against the back of his neck, and he was frustrated by the itch of the woolen tunic; he’d been wearing it for five days straight. Though his ice-blue eyes blazed with fury, he had no power to do anything.

“He keeps getting worse,” Cora choked, nervously winding and unwinding a strand of blond hair around her finger.

“How much do you think he understands?” Warren questioned, holding his leather-bound Bible to his chest.

All of it, you knobheads! I'm still Sam! he tried to say, but all that came out was: "Uhl! Knohea! Thill than!"

Cora cast a worried glance at the man on the bed. “He’s still Sam,” she said.

I know, but you seem to have forgotten. He wanted to say, but all that came out was mumbled gibberish.

Warren and Cora turned away and spoke in low voices. Sam grunted, annoyed. Look at me! Talk to me! I'm still here! Sam tried to beg.

"I think we should send for a priest," Warren said, running his fingers along the edges of the yellowing paper.

No!

"You know he wouldn't want that," Cora said, brushing her hair behind her.

Thank you!

“God can heal all things,” Warren stated, ignoring Sam. He gripped his Bible tightly as he spoke.

“Then why did he let Sam get sick in the first place?” she fired back.

Warren recoiled at her harsh tone. “God is love,” he said firmly.

Cora took a calming breath and fidgeted with her hair. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know your faith means a lot to you.”

Warren straightened and looked down at Cora. “The Bible says God loves everyone.” he lectured. Warren looked at Sam lying helplessly in bed. Why isn’t He answering my prayers? Warren thought, looking at the heavy book in his hands. He bit his lip nervously. What if he dies before he comes to Jesus? The thought of Sam and Cora going to hell made him nauseous. I have to have faith and keep loving them as God would want.

“I know you care about us,” Cora said, pulling Warren from his thoughts. She put a comforting hand on his arm. “We appreciate everything you have done, but we just don’t believe in God, especially after what happened.”

“Why not?” Warren snapped.

Cora withdrew her hand and clenched her jaw. “Because belief in God is what killed our mothers,” she said, gesturing to Sam. “Lord Holward had our mothers burned alive! He is one of the most ruthless and powerful people we know of, and he says everything he does is for God!"

“But that’s not of God!” Warren insisted. “It says in the Bible to love others because God loves us.”

Cora massaged her temples, blocking out Warren’s voice. “No one believes that. The church says non-believers should be killed and sent to hell. Just ask Lord Holward.”

Stop fighting! Sam tried to say. “Stu ightin!”

They paused and looked at Sam. "Let's go into the other room so he can sleep," Cora said.

Warren nodded in agreement.

What? No! I'm not tired! Talk to me! But as he tried to speak around his uncooperative tongue, his head spun from exhaustion. A tear rolled down his face onto the sweat-soaked pillow. Communicating would not be an option.

His soul strained against the confines of his body, but it was no use. It was making him tired.

Tears sprang to his eyes as he heard the door gently close.

Sam laid there angrily glaring at the ceiling while silent tears rolled onto the pillow.

Chapter One

Cora shivered in the damp cell.

"They're going to be okay," she told herself as tears fell down her face. Talking made the space feel less empty. "Warren took a job on that farm, and Sam is getting better."

But he wasn’t getting better. Cora buried her face in her hands. Sharp pangs stabbed in her chest as she wept. "I'm so stupid!"

Her bony shoulders shook. She brushed her long, honey colored hair from her face and rested her head against the stone wall. "The next time I see the sun will be the last," she uttered. "I hope it's a nice day."

She took out the blue wooden spinning top in her pocket and spun it. The clattering it made against the stone floor comforted her.

She got it from her Sam and Warren for her 19th birthday. Sam had carved it from a block of wood, and Warren had painted it.

She smiled sadly as she remembered the day. They had gone into town and bought some sweets, then went home and spent the day playing ring toss.

She was brought out of her memory as the door opened at the top of the stairs, and a dark silhouette descended the steps. A man approached the bars and placed a torch in the sconce on the wall. He had copper curls to his brow, broad shoulders and pale skin.

She froze when she saw his eyes. They were blood red, making him look like a demonic spirit in the torchlight. Cora was thankful for the thick metal bars between them.

"What are you?" Cora stammered, getting to her feet.

An amused smile twitched on his lips. "Hello to you too," he said in a husky Irish accent.

"What are you?" she asked again, pressing herself against the back wall.

The man chuckled. "You're the girl who angered Lord Holward," he said, eyeing her.

"It wasn't that hard," she replied. "Who and what are you?"

“My name’s Ronan. Tell me what happened between you and Lord Holward,” he said smoothly.

She stayed quiet as she tried to form words. Piecing it together in a coherent narrative was difficult given her scattered thoughts. “Our friend,, Warren, and I were taking a trip to town with my brother, Sam,” She began. “He’s been sick. Some weeks he's bedridden, unable to speak, but other days, he can walk and even say a few words. We thought it would be nice to get out a bit. Sometimes Sam gets a little confused, and he bumped into Lord Holward.” She paused to gather her thoughts. “Lord Holward began screaming and raised his hand to hit Sam, so I ran in front and pushed him away.”

Ronan raised his brows, and his eyes widened.“You're tellin' me you put your hands on Lord Holward?” he emphasized.

Cora nodded. “He said I was foolish and that I’m going to die tomorrow," she said as if it were a matter of fact.

Ronan took a moment to wrap his head around what she had said. No one in their right mind touched a Holward like that. And she spoke of her death so casually. Humans weren’t known for going gracefully to their death.

"Ain’t that typical. People like him can get away with doin' terrible things, but when we slightly inconvenience them, our life is on the line!" Ronan ranted.

"It's disgusting," she said bitterly. The tiny bit of cordial conversation put her slightly at ease.

Ronan took a calming breath. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Cora."

"Cora, I've come to offer you a job," he said stiffly.

"A what?" she asked, going tense again.

"Standin' up to a Holward like that is quite impressive," he continued.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"You have two choices. Either come with me, or you can go have your head cut off in the town square tomorrow."

She eyed him suspiciously. Her stomach was in knots, but her curiosity won over her apprehension. "What's the job?" she asked, moving closer to the bars.

Ronan paused as he tried to think of how to word it. "I'm a vampire," he said bluntly, giving her a fanged smile.

A small gasp escaped as her hand flew to her mouth. She took a few quick steps back as her heart thundered in her chest.

He retracted his fangs. "Just listen. I'm not goin’ to hurt you," he said in a gentler tone.

She nervously fidgeted with her hair and nodded.

"The humans and vampires have an alliance. Only a handful of nobles are aware of this. Lord Nightwood allows us to stay at his castle in return for protection. We are at war with the werewolves. We're always lookin' for recruits to help out," Ronan explained.

"Werewolves?" she asked, arching a brow.

He nodded and showed his fangs again.

She went quiet, thinking. This is crazy. But maybe I could make it work in my favor. She confidently strode to the bars. "I'll only go with you if you help Sam," she said firmly.

Ronan smiled, extending his fangs again as he leaned on the bars. "Are you tryin' to negotiate with me? You're not in a position to do that."

She forced herself to stand her ground and meet his terrifying gaze. "If you want me that bad, you're going to help my brother. If I'm not worth that to you, then I'll gladly die."

Ronan arched his brow, impressed at her boldness. He looked down as he mulled this over. Not only has she stood up to Lord Holward but now she’s giving me an ultimatum. "Alright. If you come with me, I will do my best for your brother, and in return, you will be turned and fight alongside us."

"Deal," she said quickly before she could chicken out.

Ronan grinned. "You'll be out of here soon," he said, leaving.

***

As Ronan made his way through the maze of hallways, he passed a young woman with long brown hair. She was wearing a plain grey dress and carrying a small boy, who could have been no older than two. He was wrapped in a purple blanket. His head rested on her shoulder, sleeping peacefully.

The woman met Ronan's gaze and held the boy protectively against her. His eyes slowly inched open, and he gave a slight wave to Ronan before fluttering closed again.

"Come on, Quinn," the woman muttered, glancing nervously at Ronan as she hurried away.

"Lucky little shit," Ronan grumbled, looking around the elegant castle.

Quick footsteps echoed down the hall coming towards him. "Ronan!" Lord Nightwood barked, approaching him.

"Yes?”

“Holward has agreed to let us take her. Now let’s go before he sobers up.”

Ronan chuckled. “You got him drunk?”

“Perhaps,” Lord Nightwood said dismissively. “The carriage is waiting for you outside. I’ll start on my way.”

“Alright,” Ronan replied.

He made his way back to the dungeon. A guard with a large metal key was waiting for him.

Ronan paused at the top of the steps, looking at the girl curled up in the corner of the cell. He could clearly see her bones pressing against her skin. When was the last time she ate? He wondered.

There was a loud metal clunk as the guard opened the cell door. She slowly sat up.

Ronan appeared in the cell and offered his hand to help her to her feet. She looked at him apprehensively. He frowned. Her eyes were so pretty, but their minty green color would soon be replaced with bright red.

“Come on then,” he said, helping her up.

Her skin was ice cold. Ronan shrugged off his cloak and draped it over her shoulders. She froze, caught off guard at the kind gesture. "Thank you," she said slowly.

A few tears glistened in her eyes as she shook, terrified.

Ronan kept a firm arm around her as he led her out to a windowless carriage. A servant opened the door. Cora hesitated, but Ronan gently guided her in.

She reached into her pocket, but the top wasn't there. She sighed but didn't say anything. It wouldn't do any good.

"You're goin' to be turned into a vampire, and you are goin' to fight against the werewolves with us," Ronan stated, getting in after her.

"What did the werewolves do?" she asked, nervously fidgeting with the ends of her hair. "Why are you fighting?"

"They're tryin' to take control of the humans and, consequently, our blood supply."

She had to keep asking questions to keep her mind occupied. "Why do they want to control humans?"

"The wolves believe they are the alpha species, and if they are in charge, they will bring about order. They want to make a perfect world."

She laughed and gently ran her hand through her hair, untangling a knot that had begun to form. "I have a difficult time believing that's what they really want," she said, smoothing her hair .

Ronan smiled. She understood. "Greedy, power-hungry bastards."

"They sound like Lord Holward," she remarked with a wry smile.

Ronan sputtered, laughing. "Very true."

"Do vampires have a leader?"

"Not really. We mostly keep each other in line. We all have a common goal, so there's rarely dissent."

"I see," Cora said slowly.

"This also means you will kill people," Ronan added.

Cora paused, letting the words sink in. “You mean werewolves?” she asked.

“Nope. Humans,” he replied. “It’s how you’ll eat.”

“What?” she gasped.

“You will be killing humans to drink their blood,” Ronan repeated slowly.

Every muscle in her body was rigid. It was as if she had been turned to stone. Her mind went numb as she struggled to form thoughts. “Have you killed anyone?" she managed to ask.

Ronan nodded. "It's part of our lifestyle. It does take a bit of gettin' used to."

"Killing innocent people?" she enunciated.

Ronan shrugged. "Humans die one way or another. Doesn't matter much how."

"How can you justify something like that?" She snapped.

Ronan shrugged again. "We don't. There is no excuse for the things I've done, and there will be no excuse for the things you will do. But we come to accept it."

"Can’t you try to find a better way?" she implored.

Ronan stared at her, confused. "Why would we? It would get us nowhere. Besides, we're no worse than humans."

"I don't think so," Cora snorted.

"Oh?" He laughed. "Humans kill each other all the time over weird things like war, money, sex, and power. This isn't anythin' new."

She went quiet, letting her shoulders sag as she slumped against the seats. He’s not wrong, she realized. She hunched over and buried her head in her hands, trying to breathe deeply.

Ronan waited patiently as she processed this.

"But what would that make us? Monsters?" she asked, looking up.

"Vampires."

https://www.amazon.com/Cora-Into-Darkness-R-I-Polsgrove-ebook/dp/B0953ZHWV6/ref=sr_1_2?crid=HMZ241SYLVKK&dchild=1&keywords=r.i.+polsgrove&qid=1630814053&sprefix=r.i.+pols%2Caps%2C170&sr=8-2

#vampires #chapter one #vampire novels #lgbtq authors #romance #fandom #twilight fandom #chapter 1

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supernaturalteenwolf14 · 4 years

Text

Cora’s Brother

A/N so I had this stuck in my head for a while and figured I’d put the story to use and actually write out when my head has been trying to tell me so here it is. So basically this is about the pack Cora had stayed with when everyone thought she was dead. It’s in my OC’s POV.

OC x Derek Hale

Words:3430

Might be a series....depends on how it does. Let me know what you guys think, the romance won’t start till a little later I just wanted to build the chemistry first. Plus this is after Jennifer and I don’t think Derek would hop into a relationship that fast.

I’ve always thought Derek should be with a fellow werewolf instead of a human or something else.

****************************

I had heard that Cora was coming back very soon, I’m excited to see her again to say the least. I had been worried about her ever since she went on her own to find her brother of whom we all thought died in the fire like the rest of her family. I remember that day years ago, we were planning to visit the Hale pack because their alpha, Talia wants to know how we ran things so well in our town. When we got to the Hale house there were firefighters putting out the massive fire. I remember my mother calling my name as I got out to see if there were any survivors. She was worried that who’d ever set the fire was still out there.

“Riley we have to go, who ever did this might still be out here” She had told me.

“There might be survivors mom, we have to look” I said ignoring her. Traveling into the woods I followed a scent that I had caught. I remember the rate at which my heart sped up as I saw a little girl covered in burns on the woods ground.

“Help” She struggled to get out. I ran up to her and knelt down next to her.

“Shhhh I’m here to help” I told her. I grabbed her hand and started to take her pain away once she was finally able to pass out I carried her back to the car. Sebastian will be able to treat her better back at home, while I could start the healing on the way, but I’d rather do it when my life won’t be at risk. I was happy to see that my mother was also looking for survivors.

“Anyone?” I asked her once I got the girl into the car.

“No firefighter said there was no survivors” She told me. “Come on you can heal her on the way”

***********************

So I have a ability that most other werewolves don’t have. Regular werewolves have the ability to take away someone’s pain. I can take more. See my grandma is one of the very first werewolves, and she’s still alive, in fact, she’s the alpha of our pack and one of the oldest werewolves. She may not be the strongest anymore but she sure is wise. The very first werewolves had extraordinary abilities that evolution unfortunately got rid of. Healing was one of them, my mother can’t do it but I can. The only down side is the fact that it takes a lot out of me. The amount of burns that covered that little girls body at the time, healing her would put me out of commission for about a week.

That little girls name was Cora Hale. Since then we’ve basically became sisters. I helped teach her control during her shifts and had been somewhat of a mentor to her. About around the time she had left we got word of a newly emerged alpha, when I heard the name Hale I had told Cora right away that someone else from the fire might have survived and she was eager to find them. I went with her to find him but we were ambushed. I was knocked out and when I had woken up I was locked in a cellar of sorts and I couldn’t get out. It took a week for my pack to find me but Cora was missing.

After a couple days of trying to search for her she called me and said she was safe with her brother and she would keep me updated.

“And you’re safe?” I asked her.

“Yeah I promise, I’ll call you later okay?” She said.

“What about the alpha, were we right?” I asked her curiously.

“Yeah, it was my older brother, he’s alive” She said. “I gotta go”

I couldn’t get much more information out of her. I knew something must have happened, she did call me a couple more times explaining about how the alpha pack had took her and wanted her brother to kill her and his other pack members, of course she told me everything after it had already been dealt with. She said she didn’t tell me because she didn’t want me to get involved, which I would have. Our last phone call she told me her and her brother Derek were coming up. She said he wanted to meet and thank us.

************************

Today Cora was coming home, whether or not she was staying though wasn’t up to me. As much as I hoped she woulds, her brother is alive now, she may want to live with him.

I was doing what I normally do. Training. Being the granddaughter of the alpha, and the daughter of the next alpha, training is basically a 24 seven thing. Fighting, shifting, and dealing with town issues is basically second nature to me on top of working at the school where I am a counselor, it’s a nice job, but the only reason I have it is to keep on eye on the young beta’s of the pack.

I was kicking Joshua’s ass in the fighting ring. “Alright, alright I tap out damn” He told me when I had pinned him to the floor. “So the student becomes the master” He said. I smiled at him and helped him up.

“Is he Riley?” I heard an unfamiliar voice ask.

“No, Riley is a she and that’s her” I heard Cora answer. I looked up at her voice and smiled.

“Cora!” I yelled and then grunted when Joshua took my feet out from underneath me. “Cheater”

I got out of the ring and ran up to her and engulfed her in a hug. “Hey Riley” She whispered. “You stink” She said. I rolled my eyes and stepped away from her. I looked to the man to her right and smiled at him. He had black hair and green eyes. You could tell the two were related. He was handsome I’ll give him that.

“You must be Derek” I said extending my hand for him to shake. “I’m Riley”

He took my hand firmly and shook it. “You’re the one who found my sister after the fire?” He asked me.

“Yeah” I said softly. His eyes softened and he gave me a slight smile, which is something I don’t think he does very often. Realizing our hands were still connected I took it away. “Listen let me clean up and I’ll meet you guys at dinner. My grandmother would love to meet you. Until then you two check the place out” I said walking away.

************************

I was helping my mother bring the food out to the table. We have probably thirty wolves in the compound but they have their own cooks for those who choose not to cook them selves. We always eat as a family up here, my grandma, my mother, my brother and me along usually with Cora, sometimes we invite guests, like today since Derek is eating with us. I set the rolls down on the table across from my grandma.

“Hey” She whispers at me signaling for me to come closer. I got close to her and she waved me closer to where my ear was to her mouth. “Did you see the ass on that Hale”

“Grandma” I shunned and shook my head. This isn’t unusual of my grandmother. “Whispering is pointless we are all wolves here”

“Oh I know” She told me I chuckled and went to get the last of the food.

Everyone had their food and we were all eating. “Derek, if we knew about you sooner we would have brought Cora to you as soon as we could. We thought she was the only survivor”

“It’s no problem, besides it seems like she was in good hands here” He said.

“Ah yes, Cora wasn’t the first stray we took in and most definitely won’t be the last. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need” My mother said.

“Thanks” Derek replied.

“Is Beacon Hills as crazy as it’s always been?” My grandma asked.

“Worse” Cora replied.

“I swear that town is cursed. When we came to visit your mother wanted to discuss about how to handle it, especially since the nematon still had some juice. Our town here is all supernatural and we all coexist with eachother” My grandma stated.

“How does that work?” Derek asked.

“Our town is made up of five different creatures we have wendigos, kitsune’s, werecoyote’s and of course werewolves, then the humans. They all have their own side of the town.” I replied “If one steps out of line we handle it, and if we can’t” I said looking to my mother.

“We get the hunters involved. We’ve had an agreement with the hunters in our area for hundreds of years, if we can’t handle the situation then they can handle it” My mother finished for me.

“And they agreed?” Derek asked shocked.

“After a lot of persuasion yes” My grandma said “Unfortunately not all hunters are as negotiable as ours like the Argents, and the Calaveras, those crazy bastards” My grandma stated.

“It’s peaceful here” Cora told her brother. “You deserve a break from Beacon Hills, I’m sure Scott can handle it”

“He’s still just a kid” Derek replied.

“Must be a special kid” I said taking a bite of my food. “For him to be a true alpha”

“Yeah but he’s still learning” Derek said. “I can still teach him a few things”

“Our door is always open” My mother told him.

*****************

The next morning my mother had sent someone to say to meet her and my grandma. Once I got up there they had told me that there was a murder in the woods last night. By the photos they showed me it looked to be an animal attack, except we all know it’s not, a werewolf or a werecoyote most likely.

“I’ll talk to the neighboring packs and see if they have any out of control betas” I stated.

“You should bring someone with you” My mother said.

“It’s fine I can go alone” I stated.

“I’ll go with her” I new voice said, a voice belonging to Cora. We all looked up at her and her brother standing next to her. I smiled remembering how nosy she was.

“You just got back” I stated.

“There’s nothing to do anyway” She stated. I shook my head and followed her out. I noticed her brother following too.

“Okay I don’t need the both of you, In fact I don’t need either of you” I said.

“Oh come one, we can show Derek the town along the way” She said. I let out a breath and looked up at Derek.

“Think you can handle an out of control werewolf?” I joked.

“It’s second nature” He stated.

**********************

After talking to the surrounding packs no one has recently turned anyone or had anyone missing last night. “It doesn’t even make sense, last night wasn’t even a full moon” I stated.

“Let me see the picture again” Derek asked. I handed him the picture and he studied it. “It doesn’t look like it was done in a frenzy maybe out of defense” I walked to his side and saw what he was talking about. A werewolf in a frenzy wouldn’t leave just one set of claw marks on their victim, they would be mauled.

“He’s definitely not a hunter” I stated. “If it wasn’t a werewolf then maybe a werecoyote.”

“What about an omega, a wolf without a pack?” Cora asked.

I shook my head. “When an Omega passes through town they usually try and find us, we haven’t taken in anyone new, and we would have seen them by now surely”

“Maybe try to catch a scent?” Derek asked.

*****************

We were tracking down the scent in the woods. “Still trying to get used to being a beta again?” I asked Derek seeing as he was visibly struggling with keeping the scent.

“Yeah, kinda a drastic change” He stated.

“Well it was brave what you did, not very many people would give up being an alpha, especially when someone is trying to kill you”

“I did it for her” Derek said looking at Cora who was ahead of us. “She said you have an ability to heal? I’ve never heard of anyone able to do it”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m the last one. My grandma was one of the very first werewolves, and it was said that they had that ability on top of other things. My mother didn’t have the ability but somehow I did.”

“How do you do it?” He asked me.

“Like taking away pain just a little more. Takes a lot out of me, I was out for probably a week after I healed Cora. Even then she still wasn’t a hundred percent. Must be nice, seeing her after all those years”

“She said I was a disappointment” He stated.

“Sounds like her” I laughed. “She hated me too, she was honestly kinda scary”

“I can hear you too” Cora said loudly. “I don’t hate either of you anymore”

“Good to know” Derek said.

“This is taking too long the scent in fading. I can track better if I shift” I stated going behind a tree and started to take my clothes off.

“So shift” Derek said confused.

“About the ability to heal, the first werewolves had another ability to fully shift into a wolf, I got that too” I said as I felt my back start to shift the cracking and breaking of my bones being heard. “Ah!” I yelled as more of my bones broke and morphed. Once I was fully shifted I followed the now clear scent.

“Pretty cool isn’t she?” I heard Cora say to Derek before I was out of earshot.

********************

I shifted back and grabbed one of the cheap dresses I keep buried just in case I ever need to shift and I rip my clothes doing so. I’m hoping Cora remembered to bring my outfit I changed out of.

“Coyote den” I stated as the two caught up with me. “Time to talk to the coyote’s”

Out of all the creatures in this town the coyote’s are probably our closest ally. They respect our authority unlike the wendigos who are mad at us for not letting them eat living humans, instead they have to settle for the already dead.

“So are there any humans in this town?” Derek asked.

“They are all on the other side of town, most the humans kinda know to stay out of this side, call it a gut feeling” I stated.

“Does this type of thing happen a lot?” He said gesturing to the attack.

“Rarely, but it happens. Out of control omega, wendigos especially. Never really had a problem with kitsunes” I stated.

“Aren’t they tricksters?” Cora asked.

“The dark ones are, it’s their mission to cause all the chaos, strife, and pain they can so that they can get stronger, they can even possess someone, we’ve never dealt with one, and hopefully we don’t” I stated.

“Kanima’s?” Derek asked.

“Just one, but we got it under control before it could find a master. Just a kid.” I stated remembering what was done.

“You couldn’t save him?” Derek asked me.

“We tried, we couldn’t get to her, the hunters eventually intervened. That’s why I was impressed about Jackson” I stated remembering how Derek talked about the Kanima at dinner.

********************

After talking to the coyote’s we found out it was a sixteen year old girl who had gone missing about a year ago, ran off with her boyfriend. She had gone along with it but when he had tried to hurt her she defended herself. She was in control, but she was scared so she hid out in the woods until her sister found her.

“Please don’t send me to the hunters” Charlotte, the kidnapped girl said.

“Show me your eyes” I told her. When she did they were a golden color, a color that means she didn’t take an innocent life.

“We’ll talk to them, they are pretty lenient when it comes to self defense, but Charlotte, that wasn’t very smart, especially when you’re still learning control” I stated.

“I didn’t think he was going to hurt me” She told me.

“It usually happens when you least expect it” I told her. I looked at her mother “I’ll keep you updated”

“So what now?” Cora asked as we were walking back.

“My mother will talk with the hunters” I said. “Try to convince them it was self defense.”

“What if she can’t?” Derek asked. “She’s sixteen”

“I know! If they don’t agree then I’ll think of something” I stated.

********************

Derek and I were waiting patiently for my mother to finish talking to the hunters. Cora had decided to go to bed. I let out a sigh of relief when I heard that they will let this one slide but if it happens again then they would have to step in.

“Thank God” I whispered in relief.

“That was easy” Derek said both relieved and confused. I looked at his questionably “Something like this in Beacon Hills wouldn’t have ended so soon”

“Are you gonna go back?” I asked him.

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t like the idea of leaving Scott alone to be the alpha, with the nematon having it’s power back that town won’t ever be safe” He told me. “I just wish I could ask my mother for advice, she would know what to do”

“What if you can” I told him.

“What are you talking about?” He asked curiously.

“Here follow me” I told him as I lead him into the study, a door that can only be opened by my family. “I know it’s a little morbid, but my father died years ago from a werewolf wanting his power, my father won but the wolf that wanted his power poisoned him in case he lost” I said as I grabbed the jar that held his claws pouring them on the table. “My mother spoke with him with these”

“Spoke with him?” Derek asked.

“An alpha’s claws are very powerful and there’s a ritual you can perform to talk with the person of who’s claws they are.” I told him. “But you can only do it once”

“Well there’s one problem” Derek said looking at me “My mother died in the fire”

“Talia from the stories I’ve heard was a very powerful alpha, her claws wouldn’t wouldn’t be something that would just burn away in a fire” I told him.

“Even if they didn’t I wouldn’t know where they would be” He told me.

“There’s a hunting family based in mexico called the Calavera’s if your mothers claws survived the fire and were found they would have it.” I told him.

“How do you know that?” He asked me.

“Because they had my fathers, it was like they had a collection of powerful alpha claws, and I think your mother might of been one of them” I told him.

After I had explained how the ritual worked I walked Derek out of the study. We were in the door way. “Thank you” He suddenly said. I looked up at him. “you’re welcome”

“Not just for this but for Cora too. This is the only place I would feel comfortable leaving her with and she wouldn’t shut up about you on the car ride here” He said.

“I’m nothing special” I stated.

“No you are, you can not only heal other’s but you can shift into a full wolf. You’re special” Derek told me. “I understand why she didn’t shut up about you”

I smiled and broke eye contact with him closing the door behind me. “If you do plan on going the Calaveras you shouldn’t go alone. They’re pretty dangerous. I can go with you” I told him.

“No, you should stay here, plus I have someone in mind who will help me” He said.

**************************

Derek stayed for about another week then decided to leave to find his mother’s claws. He had said bye to his sister already and walked up to me to say goodbye.

“Thank you again” He told me.

“Stay safe out there” I told him. “Will you be coming back?” I asked trying not to sound hopeful.

Derek let out a breath and looked at me “Maybe”

“I’ll take care of her” I told him

What Derek did next shocked me. He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight as I slowly hugged him back. “I know you will” He whispered then let go and walked out into the darkness

#Derek #derekhale #derek hale fanfiction #derek hale #teen wolf #teen #teenwolf #teen wolf imagine

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ohmightydevviepuu · 4 years

Text

our little life (rounded with a sleep) / chapter 7

our little life (rounded with a sleep) chapter seven [7/12]

AO3

i know i keep joking and gushing about @profdanglaisstuff and her tendency to save stories, but reader, i promise you: i sat and stared at this chapter--at its running outline and general lack of cohesive words--for almost a month before she asked me the simple, elegant question that let all of it unfold and led to the rest of the story.

to @thisonesatellite and @katie-dub for that weekend of sprints, tea and very loud music that left my hands sore for a week as i rewrote this bit--all 5k of it-- three times in one day to get it the way i wanted it. (and then tried to make them read it all three times.)

to the @captainswanbigbang team for excessive awesomesauce.

–

chapter summary:

In which we answer the question: What’s crazier than seeing and not believing?

Emma has to make some choices. (Maybe they do make a good team.)

She couldn’t open her eyes.

Her head was pounding.

Her cheek was against something flat, cold and hard.

“There’s no need to be rash,” a voice was saying. She knew that voice. “We can discuss this.”

The floor. Emma was face-down on the floor.

“Your pretty face buys you a lot,” a woman answered, “but my time is too valuable.”

“Ooooh,” the male voice said. Hook’s voice.

And his pretty, pretty face.

“Are you going to kill me now?”

God, her head was spinning.

The woman laughed. Cora. They sounded, somehow, far away, their voices drifting around the pain in her head, settling with her on the floor.

Her wrists were cuffed, Emma realized suddenly.

“It seems more fitting to leave you here,” Cora said, “with your thirst for revenge unquenched.”

There was a pause and a grunt of pain. “You think you care for her,” Cora said, “but you know she won’t trust you.”

Emma did not hear him answer before she passed out again.

Her head was pounding.

Her cheek lay against something flat, cold and hard.

“What in the bloody hell did you think you were doing?” Hook’s voice, again--and this time, flush with emotion instead of careful and detached. He sounded closer, too, and Emma took a deep breath, trying to move, trying to wake up, to--

There was a feeling of pressure against her leg, just for a second. She started to move again; the pressure became insistent. Obediently, Emma went limp.

“I’m doing whatever it takes,” a man said in an unfamiliar voice. “Whatever it takes, Hook, to break this curse.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” Hook insisted.

“You’re one to talk,” the man said. “After everything you did to end up here?”

The silence was so sudden and so stark that Emma could almost feel it, as if it had texture. Beside her, she felt Hook go completely rigid.

“And what do you know about that?” Hook asked.

“I know the lengths you were willing to go to ensure your revenge, once upon a time,” the man said. “And I know that you’ve never followed through on your intentions. That is a mistake I will not make.”

“There was no need for you to drug or kidnap anyone,” Hook said.

“There was no need,” the man sneered, “for you to kill anyone, and yet you did. Anyway, she’s fine--aren’t you, Savior?”

Emma felt a kick against her boot, and opened her eyes. She tried, and failed, to sit up. She was cuffed, her hands behind her back, on the floor of a large living room in what seemed to be a large house. Emma rolled over and had a view of a high ceiling, and of Hook.

“Easy, love,” Hook whispered, his lips barely moving. As best she could tell, Hook was similarly restrained, and his eyes were glued on their captor.

“Not that I don’t understand why you’d want to help her,” the man said with a leer. “I’m just not sure I understand the method behind your madness.” He kicked her boot again. “Get up.”

That’s when Emma recognized him--the man in the top coat, the one who had been following her. The one she had seen outside the diner.

The one who had come at her with a knife in the alley outside The Rabbit Hole.

“It’s you,” Emma said. “Why have you been following me?”

“Because,” he said, “you, Emma Swan, are the solution to all of my problems.”

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” she said, “but if you hurt me--us--I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

“‘Us’,” he repeated. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

He looked at her with something approaching pity as he pulled her upright, until she was sitting next to Hook instead of sprawled on the floor. “I know what you refuse to acknowledge, Emma Swan,” he said in an exaggerated whisper, as if they were sharing a secret. He pointed at Hook and added, “Hook knows it too, don’t you, Captain?”

“Jefferson,” Hook said, his voice sharp. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want, Hook,” he said. “For the last twenty-eight years, I’ve been stuck in this house. Day after day, always the same. But she is going to help me, because she’s special.”

“You’re insane,” Emma said.

“Because I speak the truth? Perhaps you’re the one that’s mad. What’s crazier than seeing and not believing?” He looked at her with eyes that almost focused. “Unless--tell me, Savior, can you feel it in your dreams? Twined in memory’s mystic band?”

“What do you want, Jefferson?” Hook was impatient.

“I want her to get it to work,” he said. “She’s the only one who can get it to work.” He turned around and pulled something off of the desk that stood behind him: a hat. It was, Emma saw, one of many; they lined every shelf in the room.

“You want me to make a hat?” Emma said. “Because, what, you don’t have enough of them?”

“None of them work,” he said, as if that was supposed to mean something. “You have magic. Make one like this.” There was a pair of shears on the desk, and a folded piece of black fabric.

She turned to Hook. “The Mad Hatter? Seriously?”

“I hate Wonderland,” Hook said with some feeling. His eyes were still on the Hatter and he held himself tense and ready in spite of his restraints.

“My name,” the man said to Emma, “is Jefferson. And you and your friend are not leaving here until you make my hat. Until you get it to work.”

“We’re not friends,” Emma snapped, and Jefferson’s smile was slightly feral.

“I didn’t mean him,” he said, and left the room.

“He’s a portal jumper,” Hook said, his voice casual. “That’s what the hat does--it opens a portal by which one may travel to another realm.”

“Is what he’s saying even possible?”

“Aye,” he said. “It’s possible.”

“And that’s why he’s--the way he is? Because he’s been trapped in this house?”

“It’s quite difficult, Swan, living in a land where you don’t belong,” Hook said. “Knowing that--holding conflicting realities in your head--it could easily drive a man mad.”

“And he just--” Emma shrugged, shifting a bid from the movement. “He just expects me to wriggle my nose and poof, his wishes are granted?”

“No,” Hook said. “I doubt very much that is what he expects.” But Hook’s tone was contemplative.

“I’m not a genie, is what I am saying,” Emma grumbled. “Or a witch.”

He looked at her then. “I may not belong here, either, but I’ve been here for twenty-eight years,” he said. “I get things.”

Emma shrugged again, and Hook sighed.

“That’s what you’re not understanding, Swan. You are a witch--or, more precisely, you have magic. That’s what they want. They want your magic. They want you to break this curse.”

“Even Cora?” Emma asked, and Hook’s body went tense again.

“Especially Cora,” he said. “In fact--” He stopped, his lips pressed into a thin line. It was as if he wanted to say more, but felt like he couldn’t, and Emma realized Hook thought someone was watching them.

Cora.

It was Cora who had bailed him out, and Cora who had been in the house with them. Only--had she? There was no sign of her now; loathe as Emma was to admit it, even to herself, she had no idea if she had actually been conscious or if she had been dreaming.

It was not a new thought.

“Did you feel it in your dreams?”

Emma shook her head, trying to reset her focus. “So it was Cora,” she said, “who you used to work for, back in the--” Only she couldn’t say it--couldn’t make herself say the words Enchanted Forest.

“Regina,” Hook said, correcting her. “It was Regina who approached me.” His mouth twisted. “She had a job for me. She knew I was motivated. She sent me to kill her mother, whom I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”

“I thought Cora was Regina’s mother,” Emma said, somewhat stupidly. “And Cora is definitely alive.”

“Aye. She gave me a better offer.” Hook sighed again. “We sailors have an old saying, Swan: ‘Any port in a storm’.”

“And you were in a storm?”

Their eyes met. “For a very long time,” he said. “When Milah died--”

Hook shifted his weight, breaking their eye contact. “‘Oft I have heard,’” he recited softly, “‘that grief softens the mind / And makes it fearful and degenerate; Think therefore on revenge and cease to weep.’”

“Right,” Emma said. “Obviously.”

“Shakespeare,” he said, smiling slightly when Emma rolled her eyes.

“Show-off,” Emma muttered, then realized something. “So who does Jefferson think you killed?”

“Perhaps he believes I succeeded in achieving Regina’s objective,” Hook said.

Emma raised her eyebrows. “You’re lying,” she said.

He shifted again. Emma had never seen him fidget before. “I’ve done a lot of unconscionable things, Swan,” he said finally. “But what I did to get here--what I did to my brother--that might be the worst.”

“To Liam?”

“Liam,” Hook said, “is not the first brother of mine to bear that name.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Emma leaned toward him, bumping her shoulder against his, and Hook opened his eyes. Surprise colored his features for an instant before another one of his masks slid into place.

“My father,” Hook said. “When I was quite young, he did something for which I could never forgive him.”

“He sold you,” Emma said, surprising him again.

“Aye,” Hook said. “And I killed him for it. In front of his young son, Liam. His son, Liam, whom he had named for my elder brother.” He sounded angry and confused, as if it had happened yesterday instead of decades ago. “I thought it was a dream--or rather, a nightmare. A spell contrived by Regina to reveal my weaknesses. You see, Swan, it should not have been possible for my father to be alive still, more than two centuries after I had seen him last.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” Emma said.

“But all magic comes with a price,” Hook said. “Liam, it seems, was mine. When I began to Awaken, I realized who Liam was. I realized what I had done. He should not exist and yet he has lived as my brother for almost thirty years.”

“You love him,” Emma said.

Hook didn’t answer. He just--he looked at her.

“Right,” Emma said, resigned. “Well, I guess this is about the time for it.”

“The time for what?”

“The story of my life,” she said. She shrugged, feeling the weight of her restraints.

“I know a fair bit of it already,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said. “Open book--storybook--whatever.”

“No, lass,” he said, his voice very low and very soft. “You should know as well as anyone that Lost Ones recognize their own.”

It was the tone of his voice that made her decide. She straightened up, clenching her jaw. It hurt, this part, but somehow she felt like she owed him.

Like maybe she hadn’t been wrong about him.

Emma nodded to herself and said: “Neal was a thief. But he was older, and charming, and it was wonderful. Except it was all a lie, and I wound up in jail, pregnant. Alone. Lost, I guess. I put the kid--Henry--up for adoption. And I haven’t seen him since. The end.”

“Baelfire left you?” Hook’s voice was sad, but somehow unsurprised. “To take the punishment for his sins?”

Emma nodded again, her jaw still clenched. “And now, all of this happens, and you’re telling me that Neal is a part of it and that his father is fucking Rumplestiltskin and my son’s mother is the goddamn Evil Queen and I don’t even know what my life is anymore.”

She slumped a little bit, hunching her shoulders forward. Hook shifted again, and then his entire demeanor changed as he adopted an air of forced cheerfulness. “Well then,” he said, “you’ll be glad to know that I’ve recovered something of yours.”

“Something of mine?”

“You must have lost it in the abduction,” he said. None of the words made sense, but nothing about them seemed to be a lie.

“What--what is it?”

He shrugged again, and his shoulder brushed against hers, an echo of her own tentative gesture. “Your ring, of course. I know that it was a treasured gift.”

The reason that I’m still alive… This reminder that I once had a family.

They had fought about the ring--his brother’s ring, Liam’s ring--only that morning. Emma could still feel the force of his anger.

She could still feel his breath across her lips.

“And you kept it?” Emma said with a wry smile, pulling at her restraints, trying to play along.

Trying to buy time.

“A pirate,” he said, “always keeps a souvenir of his conquests, love. But perhaps ‘tis better that you know it isn’t lost. You could do with a reminder that you have people who care for you.”

“Besides Graham, I don’t think I’ve ever been a part of anything,” she whispered.

“But you could be,” Hook said, reaching for the chain that hung around his neck and pulling it off, dangling a ring in the empty space between them. “Keep this,” he said. “You could do with a reminder.”

He was lying--the words were literally false--and yet nothing about what he was saying was untrue. His voice was affectedly upbeat, but his eyes were serious and earnest.

All of her mental alarm-bells should have been ringing, and yet none of them were.

Emma suddenly understood: he still thought they were being watched.

But he wanted her to have--to know--

“You think you care for her." “But you know she won’t trust you.”

He leaned in and his breath was against her skin again; for an instant, in spite of everything, it was as if they were the only two people in the world.

Keep this. You could do with a reminder.

She understood, she--

“Our deal stands,” he whispered, the words tickling her ear. “Whatever hurts Cora helps me, Swan.” He didn’t pull back.

Emma exhaled, and nodded. But she didn’t pull back, either.

They lingered there, in the place between what was and ‘what’s next’, each bleeding over into the other’s personal space. And then--

There was a crash, and a noise, from elsewhere in the house.

“What the fuck was that?” Emma asked, hauling herself quickly to her feet and extending one of her freed hands to Hook.

He chuckled, dangling the ring from his outstretched hand.

His freed hand, with an open handcuff still hanging off of his wrist.

“Seriously?” Emma said.

But she took the ring, putting it around her neck while he sat there and waited.

“Pirate,” Hook said simply, before grasping her arm and pulling himself upright.

Emma had no idea what she expected to see as she and Hook pushed open the door between themselves and the noise--but it was not her roommate tied to a chair.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret said. “Thank goodness!” She struggled, pulling against her cuffs as Hook bent down next to her.

Tumblers, Emma thought to herself, remembering Neal Cassidy’s advice on the subject of locks. It’s all about the tumblers. She watched Hook and realized suddenly who, exactly, had taught Neal to be so adept at lock-picking.

He stayed with me for a time in Neverland.

“What is she doing here?” Emma asked, gesturing at Mary Margaret. “What are you doing here?”

“I was walking along the edge of the neighborhood,” Mary Margaret said. “Thinking about--well, you know. A man appeared out of nowhere and grabbed me. Why are you here?”

“A man appeared out of nowhere,” Emma said, “and grabbed me. Us.” She waved a hand at Hook, who nodded his head in acknowledgement. Mary Margaret extended her arms and Hook stood up, offering her his own arm for balance.

“Milady,” he said, and winked. Winked.

Emma glared. “Why is she here?”

“Snow White has been a particular focus for both Cora and Regina for as long as I’ve known either of them,” Hook said. “I imagine no other reason was necessary, especially given her recent dalliance with the prince.”

“The prince--David?”

“Aye,” Hook said. Then: “Were you injured?”

“No,” Mary Margaret said, looking from Emma to Hook and back again. “Did you just call me Snow White?” Mary Margaret lowered her voice and leaned forward. “Why does he know about David?”

Hook smirked. “I’m missing a hand, milady. Not my hearing.”

Emma snorted.

“Are you talking about the storybook?” Mary Margaret asked. “The fairy tale of Snow White and Prince Charming?”

“Aye,” Hook said again.

“I gave that to Henry Mills,” Mary Margaret said, eyeing Hook with suspicion. “Why would you know about that?” She lowered her voice again. “Why does the bartender from The Rabbit Hole know about that?”

“Hook, milady,” he said, his voice an exaggerated stage whisper. “My name is Hook. And I own the bar, as it happens.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I--” she paused, pulling on the chain around her neck, searching for the words that would convince her friend. “I trust him.”

Lost Ones recognized their own--when she looked into his eyes, she saw herself.

“Okay,” Mary Margaret said, apparently satisfied.

“That’s it?” Emma said, surprised.

“If you trust him, Emma, that’s enough for me,” Mary Margaret said.

The tips of Hook’s ears were very slightly pink as he said, “Then we’d best be going, before our host notices our absence.”

“Who?” Mary Margaret said. “Who took us?”

“Me.” Jefferson’s voice trembled and his eyes blazed, bright and unfocused. He stood in the open doorway and did not look like a man completely in control of himself.

“I see you found your friend,” he said to Emma.

“Swan,” Hook snapped. It was a warning, and Jefferson’s face lit up.

“You’re smarter than you seem, pirate,” he said. “But I’m not her.”

“Her?” Emma said.

“Your not-friend seems to think that I am not who I say I am,” Jefferson said. The words were nonsensical, but Jefferson seemed unbothered by it. His voice pitched upward, almost in a sing-song: “Whoooo are youuu?”

“Who does he think you are?” Emma asked, trying to break the staring contest between the two men.

It didn’t work. “Cora,” Jefferson said, and the smile that stretched across his face was, if possible, even more unpleasant now. He didn’t take his eyes off of Hook. “She’s furious with you, pirate.”

Hook’s gaze flickered just for a second toward Emma as he said, quietly, “I have my reasons.”

“Reasons,” Jefferson scoffed. “Reasons are all well and good until somebody loses their head.” Jefferson pulled down the high collar of his shirt to reveal a scar that burned red and raw, as though it had been made yesterday.

Mary Margaret cried out as Emma asked, “What is that?”

“Let’s just say that Cora does not take kindly to being thwarted, Swan,” Hook said.

“Off with his head,” Jefferson added, running a finger across his throat in a slicing motion.

“And she can do that--” Emma said, pointing, “--here?”

“Oh, no,” Jefferson said, letting go of his collar. “Much as she might like to. That’s the issue with this world, you see: Everyone wants a magical solution for their problem, and everyone refuses to believe in magic.”

“Shame,” Emma said, but Jefferson missed the sarcasm.

“The Savior, though--she has magic. And she is going to help me.”

Jefferson turned to Emma as he spoke and Hook took advantage of the momentary break by rushing him, pushing him up against the wall between one breath and the next. In the space of a blink, Jefferson was pinned at the throat by Hook’s left wrist as his right hand lingered at his hip, as if Hook was grasping for a weapon.

“What have you done to Liam?” Hook snarled.

Emma was still recovering from how quickly Hook had thrown himself at Jefferson, but Jefferson was laughing.

It didn’t feel funny to Emma--or at least, not, like, ‘ha ha’ funny.

“How did you know about him?” Hook demanded. “If you’re not Cora, how do you know?”

“You know how, Hook,” Jefferson said. “All these years, and I’ve had nothing to do but watch, and I put the pieces together. I’m mad, not stupid.”

“Debatable,” Emma muttered.

Just as quickly as Hook had moved, Jefferson struck, plowing a fist into Hook’s side and causing Hook to double over in pain as a grunt escaped him.

Just like in Emma’s dream. Fucking hell.

“Stop,” she said, surprising herself. “Stop.”

Both men turned to look at her. “I’ll help you,” she said to Jefferson.

The grin stretched from one end of Jefferson’s face to the other as he gestured at Mary Margaret. “Then you can tie her back up again.”

“Emma,” Mary Margaret said. It was, somehow, both a question and a reassurance.

“All will be well,” Hook said.

“It will,” Jefferson agreed. “If Emma does what I need her to do.”

Emma backed up and placed a hand on Mary Margaret’s shoulder, easing her into the chair and pulling her wrists behind it to close the handcuffs once more.

“Hook,” Jefferson said, “you too.”

Emma looked at him. He nodded his agreement, brushing his fingers against hers as she clicked the open bracelet around the arm of Mary Margaret’s chair.

“You, Savior,” Jefferson said, walking toward the open door and ushering her through with a flourish, “follow me.”

The telescope caught her eye as she came back into the living room.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Emma said, pointing at the instrument. “That’s how you’ve been watching all of us.”

I have eyes everywhere, Miss Swan.

“You’ve been spying,” Emma said. “Reporting back on all of us to Regina--and to Cora, haven’t you?” She walked over to the telescope, peering through the lens, and was shocked to see that it was trained on the window of her office.

Swan and Humbert.

“They killed him for a reason, you know,” Jefferson said casually.

“I don’t suppose you know what that is,” Emma said.

“I don’t concern myself much with reasons these days. All I care about is getting back to my daughter. Her name is Grace.” He said it almost as if he was reminding himself. “Here, it’s Paige. But it’s Grace. My Grace.” He was pacing.

“You just want to take Grace home,” Emma said. “You want to take her back to your world.”

“It’s the one place where we can be together,” Jefferson said, sounding desperate. “Where she’ll remember who I am.”

“Here’s the thing I don’t understand,” Emma said, keeping her voice even and conversational. “What did kidnapping Mary Margaret have to do with Grace?”

“Kidnapping--kidnapping?” Jefferson was offended. “I didn’t kidnap anybody. I was saving her. I saved her life today by bringing her here.”

“Saving her from what?”

“You know,” Jefferson said.

“How about you remind me?” Emma smiled, small and tight.

“We both know what happens to people who leave Storybrooke,” Jefferson said, running his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t think--”

“Then you shouldn’t talk,” Jefferson snapped. He was pulling at his hair, now. “The curse, it’s the curse, driving us all mad. We’re all mad here.”

“I’m certainly getting there,” Emma said.

“You must be,” he said, “or you wouldn’t be here. It’s keeping all of us trapped, in the world and yet not of it. We’re forever isolated, all of us--except for you.”

“And you really believe that? You believe that an Evil Queen cast a magic spell and sent everyone here, to a neighborhood in an ordinary city, and trapped them all in a world with no happy endings?”

“I believe six impossible things before breakfast, Savior,” Jefferson said. “And this isn’t impossible.” He pointed at the desk, the one laid out with fabric and shears. “Now fix my hat.”

Emma sat down. The shears were long and sharp, longer and sharper than any knife she’d ever seen, and it occurred to her to use them as a weapon--only her particular school of hard knocks had not included self-defense via craft supply. She made a few half-hearted attempts with the shears, cutting out shapeless blobs that frayed slightly at the edges when she pulled them.

“I know what it’s like to be separated from your kid,” Emma said, putting the shears down. “It can make you feel like you’re losing your mind.” She could still remember those first days after giving birth, chained to a bed in the prison maternity ward, torn between making herself forget any of it had ever happened and desperately trying not to imagine what her son looked like. And now she knew--he looked like Neal. All of the best parts of him in one tiny person, his hair and his eyes and his smile.

Henry had a beautiful smile.

“I’m not losing my mind,” Jefferson insisted. “I’m not crazy. My reality is just different than yours.”

Once upon a time, there was an enchanted forest, and its denizens included all of the fairy tale characters you think you know, until they found themselves in a place where all of their happy endings had been stolen. Time stopped, and everyone was trapped.

"Every story you’ve read, some version of it has actually happened.” “You’re going to bring back the happy endings. It says so in the book.”

“Maybe,” Emma said. “Maybe it is.”

Jefferson stopped pacing. “You believe?”

Emma Swan was not a believer.

Emma shrugged. “If what you say is true, that woman in the other room is my mother.” She paused, took a breath.

Her mother.

“And I want to believe that,” Emma confessed. “I want to believe that more than anything in the world.”

"You’re so much like her.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Emma said. “Maybe I need to open myself up more. Maybe--if I want magic--I have to start believing.”

Jefferson positively quivered with excitement. “Help me,” he said. “I know you can get it to work.”

Emma grasped the shears by their handles. “I can try.”

Jefferson turned around, and Emma struck. She jumped out of the chair, knocking the hat off the corner as she slashed at his back with the shears. She knocked him across the jaw with the handles and watched him fall, unconscious, to the floor.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, her breaths coming in gasps as she pulled the door to the hallway open again--

--to find Hook and Mary Margaret heading straight for her.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret was relieved, pulling her into a hug.

“Swan,” Hook said with a smile. “Depriving me of a dashing rescue, I see?”

“Sorry, Hook,” Emma said, and somehow, she was smiling too. “The only one who saves me is me.”

“Emma!” Mary Margaret said again. “Look out!”

Emma felt like her breath was pushed out of her body as Jefferson tackled her and they fell to the ground, taking Mary Margaret with them. The shears fell just out of Emma’s reach and she got an elbow in the face as Jefferson lunged for them, Mary Margaret pulling back on him as hard as she could.

“Hook,” Emma yelled. “How about that rescue?”

With the heel of his boot, Hook stomped on Jefferson’s wrist as he reached for the shears, and then took two steps forward to help Mary Margaret to her feet. Jefferson had Emma on her back and she could see the scar that crossed his neck again; behind him, Hook pulled something off the wall and tossed it to Mary Margaret.

Emma kneed him in the groin as she got herself off the ground, trying to haul Jefferson up with her.

“Off with his head,” Jefferson whispered, and, pulling a knife out of his coat pocket, he slashed at Emma’s face just as Mary Margaret hit him in the head with a croquet mallet. He reeled sideways, the knife still slashing, his eyes angrier than ever.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret said, “push!”

And then kicked him in the ass, sending him flying out of the window.

“Are you okay?” Mary Margaret asked, completely unfazed.

“Yeah,” Emma said, breathing heavily and clutching at a stitch in her side. “I’m fine.” She took a step toward the window and faltered, using the wall to hold herself up.

“Really?” Emma said to Hook. “You’re not going to lend me a hand?”

Eyes twinkling, he shrugged, then offered his hand.

Emma smacked him, fighting the urge to stick out her tongue. Turning to Mary Margaret, she said, “Have you been taking kickboxing classes and not telling me about it?”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “I have no idea where that came from.”

A commotion outside, and Emma heard someone--maybe several someones--heading up the stairs and shouting.

“Someone’s coming,” Emma said, trying to stand upright.

“Emma!” The voice was coming from the hallway.

Mary Margaret tilted her head. “That sounds like Henry Mills,” she said.

“EMMA!” There was worry in his voice, and Emma remembered in a flash that Henry and Liam had been sitting in the courtyard when Jefferson had done--whatever it was he’d done--to her coffee and to her. Henry must have seen what happened, and Emma felt a rush of sadness mingled with something else.

Maybe pride.

Definitely affection.

And shock--because the one thing Emma still knew for certain about Neal Cassidy was that he had never once come back for her, and yet his ten-year-old son had rushed headlong into danger without a second thought. Which, actually, was probably a bad habit for a ten-year-old to have, but they could discuss that later, over cocoa and cinnamon, and Emma was definitely going to have to add a little rum from Hook’s flask.

Just to hers, though--there was a limit on how many bad habits she could allow her ten-year-old son to have, she thought as he made it to the door and flung himself at her, as she found herself wrapping her arms around him and saying, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“I was so worried,” he mumbled as he stepped back. “So was Liam.”

Liam didn’t look worried so much as nervous as Hook pulled him into an embrace.

“Emma.” Mary Margaret, who was peering out the window, had a strange expression on her face.

“What’s up?” Emma said, walking back to her friend.

“He’s gone,” Mary Margaret said. “And--”

Emma stuck her head out, feeling Hook at her shoulder as if to steady her. Then she saw what had Mary Margaret so confused. “Is that--”

“The hat,” Hook said. “Aye.”

There was no sign of Jefferson anywhere.

@kmomof4 @shireness-says @stahlop @carpedzem @spartanguard @optomisticgirl @snowbellewells @captainsjedi @scientificapricot @mariakov81 @searchingwardrobes

#csrt #our little life (rounded with a sleep)#captain swan rewrite a thon #canon divergence #s1 divergence #cursed!Killian #an alternate theory of the curse

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teenwolffan-with-nolife · 3 years

Text

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.34

Word Count: 2,657

Characters: Derek Hale (mentioned), Isaac Lahey, Chris Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent (brief), Cora Hale (brief), Reader

Pairings: Eventual Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, bad writing

A/N: i’m mad at most men for existing

Masterlist Series Masterlist

“Why didn’t you tell us that you two broke up?” you sighed deeply, hearing Stiles’ voice on your phone.

You sat on your bed, rubbing your head. It was 8 in the morning, and you needed to be on your way to school.

“I don’t know, Stiles. Can you just drop it?” you asked.

“No. What happened?” he asked again.

“Things weren’t working, okay?” Isaac already left for somewhere, some time ago. He became distant after Boyd’s death, as did everyone else. You hadn’t seen Cora in some time either. Stiles and Scott seemed to be the only ones talking to you.

You hadn’t slept in days, as you kept thinking back to your conversation with Deucalion. Your eyes were black, it was harder to control your powers.

“But what things?” you jumped as you heard the door open, Stiles and Scott walking in.

“What the… how did you get in?!” you exclaimed, putting your phone down as you stood up.

“I made a copy,” he held up his keys as you grabbed them from him, pulling your key off.

“This is an invasion of privacy. What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Trying to talk to you! All you’re doing is avoiding my question!” Stiles exclaimed.

“Because it’s none of your business, Stiles!” you yelled, as both boys fell silent.

“What Stiles means to say, is that we’re sorry, and if you ever want to talk, we’re here,” Scott said in a calm voice, standing between you and Stiles.

“Get out,” you said, crossing your arms.

“Wait, we got you coffee. Well, we made it,” Stiles handed you a cup, as you raised an eyebrow.

“You made me a coffee? Why?” you immediately got suspicious.

“Because we’re good friends, a-and we give friends coffee,” Stiles answered nervously.

You raised an eyebrow, taking a sip while the two of them watched you carefully. You immediately gagged, running to your bathroom as you spit it out in the sink. There was black coffee, with small bits of mistletoe inside it.

“Did you put mistletoe in this?” you coughed, rinsing your mouth before leaving your bathroom.

“Oh… how did that get in there,” Stiles said softly, unenergetic.

You rolled your eyes, picking up your phone before throwing Stiles’ keys back to him.

“Next time you try to poison me don’t make it so obvious,” you hissed, leaving Stiles and Scott in your apartment, slamming the door behind you.

“So, she’s not the darach. I’ll text Allison, Scott said, pulling out his phone, while Stiles continued to look at his keys, slightly in shock.

“Stiles? What is it?” Scott turned to Stiles, who held up his keys, all of them twisted and bent.

“She broke my keys,” Stiles said, baffled.

Scott looked at the keys, in shock.

“Uh, sorry about your keys, man,” Scott said.

“No, that’s not the problem... I mean I have an extra pair of all the important ones… Something’s wrong, she might not be the darach, but something’s definitely wrong,” Stiles said.

“Or maybe you just pissed her off,” Scott shrugged.

“Look at the freaking keys, Scott. A pissed off human doesn’t have the strength to disfigure keys like this, and I didn’t hear (Y/N) say or do any spell,” Stiles pointed out.

“I-I don’t know. Let’s just go,” Scott suggested.

Stiles nodded, opening the door as the two of them left.

---

“There are five different groups. Virgins, Healers, Warriors, and now Guardians and Philosophers. It can be represented by this Celtic symbol. It’s a five-fold knot,” Chris explained, picking up the map from his table, to show the symbol below it.

“How do you… how long have you spent researching all this?” you asked, leaning against the table.

“My dad knew most of it, so not as long as you think,” you tensed up, giving Chris a look.

“You mean Gerard’s alive?” you asked, surprised.

“Well, what did you think happened to him? I can’t seem to be able to put him 6 feet under, no matter how much I want to,” Chris replied.

“Give me one hour, I’ll do it myself,” you clenched your jaw.

Chris gave you a look, putting the map of Beacon Hills back onto his table.

“As I was saying, someone else was taken. Her name was Tara, she was a police officer, but before that, she was a teacher. The next group he’s going after is philosophers,” Chris said.

“Why are you so sure it’s a he? What if it’s a woman?” you asked.

Chris laughed softly, looking down.

“Is something funny?” you raised an eyebrow.

“No… with questions like that, you remind me of your mother,” you exhaled sharply, running your fingers through your hair.

“My question still stands. Each murder is planned out exactly. There’s no room for error. It’s not the alpha pack, we know that. They have claws, and they would definitely be messier and want to have more fun. The problem with men is that they’re arrogant, and they get cocky. They would torture their victims first. There’s no evidence of torture on any of the bodies,” you explained.

“But…” Chris started.

“Statistically, it makes more sense if the killer is female,” you said.

Chris stayed quiet for a moment before replying.

“What field of work are you going into?” Chris asked.

“I don’t know. Honestly, I might drop out anyway. How is that relevant?” you raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not, I just think you’d do well working for aw enforcement,” he shrugged.

“That’s not… let’s get back to the murders,” you said.

“Right, okay. Well, if she’s sticking to her original schedule, that means that Tara is already dead, and she’s going after the next victim,” Chris said.

“So what do we do now?” you asked.

“We can’t do anything. Just wait, in a few hours or so, another victim will be taken. We don’t know how she’s picking her victims or from where. But, they each have a few hours before they die. That’s when we’ll look, we’ll find this next victim, and find the darach,” Chris explained.

“Darach? What’s that?” you asked.

“That’s the person who’s making the sacrifices,” Chris said.

“They’re druids, or were druids at least. You kill them with silver, mistletoe is like their mountain ash,” Chris said.

Your mind drifted back to Stiles and Scott this morning as you sighed.

“How sure are you that Allison and the rest of them don’t know anything about this?”

----

“Everything seems to happen at abandoned warehouses and buildings,” you sighed, sitting next to Chris in the car.

“Well, they’re secluded areas, it’s easy to not get caught. The next sacrifice should be here,” Chris opened up the map, showing you.

“So, what are we gonna do? What’s the plan?” you asked.

“Well, I have some guns in the back. Silver bullets filled with mistletoe,” he explained.

“Okay, how do we know when the Darach’s coming back to sacrifice him?” you asked.

“We don’t, that’s why we have to wait it out,” he grabbed two guys from the backseat, handing one to you.

“Don’t miss,” he said.

“I never miss,” you scoffed, getting out of the car.

—-

You poked your head up, staying quiet as you gripped your gun tightly, hearing voices.

You stayed hidden, behind a pillar, Argent on the other side of you.

You motioned to him, as he shrugged. The voices grew familiar, as you raised an eyebrow. It was Isaac and Allison.

What the hell are they doing here? you asked yourself.

You felt a shiver down your spine, hearing a low moan. You turned to Chris, knowing he heard it too.

“Allison, wait!” you heard Isaac scream.

“Get down!” Chris yelled as the two of you turned around, aiming behind the teacher as you shot.

You saw the Darach standing behind him, her face was slashed up, wearing a black cloak.

She ignored the two of you, as she tied a garrote around his neck, strangling him.

You ran to her, keeping your gun aimed at her while you continued shooting. You felt a weird sense of familiarity wash over you, as she looked into your eyes. Something about her was familiar.

You aimed for her leg, shooting it as she screeched in pain, retreating back.

“Occidere,” your eyes turned black, as you looked at the Darach. You heard her whisper something. There it was again, that familiar feeling.

You felt something painful hit your stomach, as you dropped your gun. You dropped to your knees, gasping for air as you put your hand on your chest, seeing blood seeping through your clothes As you looked up, she disappeared.

“(Y/N)?” Chris ran to your side, throwing his gun down.

“She reflected the spell… how did she do that?” you wheezed as more and more blood dripped from your wound.

“What the hell just happened?” Allison and Isaac ran to the two of you.

“We need to get you to a hospital… or something,” Chris said, wrapping his arm around your back.

“No, I-I’m fine. J-Just give me a minute,” you exhaled sharply.

“(Y/N), you’re bleeding a lot. Y-You can’t heal yourself,” Isaac said frantically, holding your hand.

“I said I’m fine. G-Give me your scarf,” you turned to him.

He quickly took it off, handing it to you. You pressed it against your wound, wincing.

“H-He’s dead. That means there’s only one more sacrifice,” you said.

You stood up shakily, using Isaac for support.

“I’ll take you home,” Isaac said.

“I just need some bandages, it’s not that bad… doesn’t the school have some performance tonight?” you asked, taking deep breaths.

“Yeah, they do. (Y/N), you’re really hurt,” Allison began.

“Okay, so we just need to get to the school, and keep our eyes on all the teachers,” you explained.

“Isaac, get her help. (Y/N), you’re going to bleed out,” Chris said to you.

“I said I’m fine. M-Me and Isaac will meet you at the school,” you leaned onto Isaac, as he gave you a soft look, walking with you.

---

“Stop here,” you said, feeling yourself get slightly dizzier.

“No, we’re going to the hospital,” Isaac shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road.

“No, we’re not. We need to get to the school. Pull over. It’s a drugstore,” you pointed out.

You sat slumped in the seat, barely sitting up, pressing Isaac’s scarf against your wound.

“(Y/N), no. You’ll bleed out! You need help!” Isaac yelled slightly.

“Isaac, pull the fucking car over!” you yelled, as he slammed the breaks, turning to you as his eyes were bloodshot.

“No! I-If you bleed out, if you die,” he started.

“I won’t, Isaac. Please, pull over,” you said, voice lowering.

“What if you die? Please, let me take you to the hospital,” he said softly, eyes watering.

“I’ll be dead by the time we get there. You need to go into that drugstore, get a gauze pad, get some bandages, the wrap-around ones, get tape, get alcohol wipes,” you said.

“A-Alcohol wipes?” he questioned.

“Just do it, and do it now,” you winced slightly.

“O-Okay,” he nodded softly, quickly running into the store.

---

“You’re fucking insane,” Isaac whisper-yelled as the two of you walked into the school.

“It works, shut up,” you replied.

“You still have blood all over your clothes. And your hands,” Isaac pointed out.

“Give me your jacket,” you said.

He took off his jacket, handing it to you as you put it on, zipping it up.

“You’re too tall for your own good,” you said.

“Don’t even joke around right now, I’m pissed at you,” he replied.

You rolled your eyes, walking into the gym, immediately met with Chris’, Allison’s, and Scott’s glances.

“Just look around for anything suspicious,” you whispered to Isaac as he nodded.

You looked down at your phone, receiving a text from Scott.

“Text me if anything happens. Scott thinks Lydia’s in trouble,” you whispered to Isaac, leaving the gym, Scott behind you.

---

“Do you see anything?” Stiles said anxiously, biting his nails.

Scott looked around the outside of the school, using his werewolf eyes to try and find Lydia.

“I-I don’t know,” he said.

“You think she found a body?” you turned to Stiles.

“I-I don’t know, but she can’t just disappear like that,” he replied.

You heard someone screaming, as your eyes widened, looking back

“T-That’s her. That’s Lydia!” Stiles yelled.

The three of you ran back into the school, tracing Lydia’s voice to Jennifer’s classroom. You tensed up, clenching your jaw as the door slammed close in front of the three of you. She pushed the desk toward the door, blocking it, as you saw the same garrote she used to strangle the other teacher around Lydia’s neck.

Scott’s eyes glew yellow as he pushed the door trying to open it. You tried to keep your focus, knowing your stitches had opened back up slightly, feeling your head aching.

“M-My dad…” Stiles said.

You looked up, looking inside the classroom, seeing Noah bent down on the floor, a knife stuck in his arm.

“Platentibus,” your eyes were black as you recited a spell, pushing open the door. You ran inside the classroom, Stiles, and Scott behind you. You looked to the side, seeing the broken window, Noah and Jennifer were both gone. Lydia cried softly, her arms and legs strapped against the chair.

“You couldn’t have done that 10 seconds earlier?!” Stiles yelled as he turned to you.

Scott ran to Lydia untying her as she leaned against him.

“I’m sorry, I..” you started.

“She took my dad! S-She’s gonna hurt him!” he continued to yell at you.

“We’ll find a way to save him,” you tried to speak.

“We’ve been trying to save people, (Y/N)! Everyone’s dead! Everyone died! My dad’s gonna die too, and it’s gonna be your fault!” he yelled.

You could feel your vision blur slightly, as you stumbled back a few steps, slightly hearing Stiles and Scott yelling at each other. You immediately knew that Derek needed to know, as you turned to the two of them.

“Where’s Cora. She can tell Derek, she’ll warn him,” you said.

Scott paused, looking at you.

“Cora’s… Cora’s in the hospital,” he started.

You felt your heart ache as your eyes immediately watered.

“W-What do you… What happened?” you asked.

“She went after Aiden for killing Boyd, and he hurt her,” Scott explained softly.

“New plan then. You two go tell Derek, you have to get to him before Jennifer does, okay?” you asked.

“Wait, what about you? You’re not going to come with us?” Stiles turned to you.

“No, I-I’m gonna take Lydia home and then go to Cora,” you shivered slightly.

Scott frowned, sniffing as his face went pale.

“You’re bleeding,” he said softly.

“No, it’s fine, I’m okay,” you shook your head.

“What do you mean you’re bleeding? What happened?” Stiles asked anxiously.

“I said I’m fine. We don’t have time for this! We have to go now,” you held Lydia’s arm, walking her to your car before driving off.

---

You tapped your foot anxiously, sitting on a chair next to Cora’s bed while you held her hand. As you walked into the hospital, Melissa immediately noticed your bleeding, helping you. You sniffled softly, eyes watering as you closed your eyes softly.

“You look worse than me,” she croaked softly, as you immediately looked up at her.

“H-How are you feeling?” you asked softly.

“It hurts,” you could see her visibly sweating.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you heard her voice crack.

“Why did you go after him?” you whispered.

“He killed my friend. I wasn’t gonna leave him,” she replied.

“It was stupid,” you sniffled, running your fingers through your hair.

“Y-You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna figure this out,” you bit your lip.

She hummed softly, closing her eyes once again. You continued holding her hand, stroking it softly.

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purplehairedwonder · 3 years

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Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 6

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 4125 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Vergo, Donquixote Doflamingo, Bepo, Penguin, Shachi, Monet, Caesar Clown, Sanji, Nami, Chopper, Franky, Smoker, Tashigi, Monkey D. Luffy Note: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

The story title is based on the Ellie Goulding song “Hearts Without Chains.”

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he’s 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law can’t help but resent Monkey D. Luffy for offering a glimpse of something he’s repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5