GO 👏 THE 👏 FUCK 👏 OFF. Also, The American Educational System Is Trash. I Applaud This Child’s

You: *casually lifting Mjolnir* So, how does this thing work?

Avengers: *looking shocked*

Thor: *starts to cry*

Loki: AHAHAHAHAHAH IN YOUR FACE, BROTHER

You: … what just happened??????

anyone who reblogs this will get a random picture of someone in the mcu [MUST HAVE YOUR SUBMISSION OPEN]

; NOT MY MAN

© gif credits to @daniel-bruehl.

Simon Riley aka GHOST x READER

Summary. the team is back in town after a mission but seems like you would have preferred to stay there than having to face the kind of feelings you're discovering now.

word count: 1.2k.

warnings/tags: none. maybe a little bit of jealousy, but nothing serious.

author notes: my stories don't contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

pd: hi, y'all! first time writing for Ghost, no judging, please. i hope you like it.

The mission couldn’t have gone more successful, and the whole team was back in town before expected. That’s why Soap has had the great idea of throwing a small party for you all, more like a teammates’ barbecue. But now that you’re there, staring at the scene happening right in front of your eyes and holding a beer almost empty, you’re starting to figure out how to leave the place without looking like an asshole.

All your friends are having fun, while you’re about to break the glass container between your fingers just by the burning angriness emerging inside your guts. Why? Simple question, simple answer. Ghost is there, of course, keeping his face covered by the balaclava he never takes off, not even while sleeping; standing arms crossed next to the new acquisition for the team. Rhaia. A former soldier who is brand new to your world. Flirting with him. Or better said, trying to flirt with him. But even if Ghost isn’t moving an inch of his body, he’s letting her touch his bicep, play with the badges sewed in his jacket, and grab his dog tags to read the information written down in them.

Who does she think she is?

And who do you think you are?

Clicking your tongue, as you turn around, you give the beer one last sip before placing it on the table next to you. Silent and keeping your gesture deadpanned, your feet take you to the inside. You’ve had enough shit to deal with for today and you’re pretty tired to pretend you aren't… jealous? Ghost and you are nothing but teammates. On-duty. Off-duty is hard to explain. He’s your guardian during the nights in town like a protector, that’s how you like to see the situation. For a cop, he’s a stalker, and probably a psychopath too. But he has some power over you that you can’t even explain or run away from.

And now, everything you’ve thought you’ve had till this moment looks like it’s been reduced to ashes since Rhaia is part of the equation.

“ Party is downstairs. ”

A shiver runs down your spine. It doesn't matter the amount of time you two spend together, accompanied or alone, you never hear him coming. But you can't help but ignore his words, looking for the keys to your bike inside the pockets of your leather jacket, about to wear the piece of clothing and leave the house.

“ You going mute scares me more than death. ”

His voice is neutral. There’s no confusion, or angriness, or surprise in it. Those emotions fill you up at the exact moment you turn around, ready to go, by finding him closer than expected. 

“ Oh, for fuck sake! ”  You grumble, moving a palm onto your chest and closing your eyes for a second.

“ Where are ya’ heading at, hm? ”

“ You all are occupied with your own business and I’m tired, I just want to sleep, Ghost. ”

Raising his eyebrows as an incredulous gesture, the man tilts his head slightly, trying to figure out what’s going on inside that mind of yours. It’s not the explanation, but the fact that you have called him by his undercover name, and not just by his name like whenever the two of you are alone.

“ I'll take you home, little bird. C’mon. ”

“ You’re not coming. ” The sentence slips through your mouth before you can even think about it, watching him turn back to face you as he is ready to accompany you.

“ I am your man, of course I’m leaving with you. ” He’s now aware of what’s going on, and can’t help but drag every single word by his tongue. Demanding. With that possessive tone of voice that, in another kind of situation, would take you to your more desired fantasies later that night.

“ If my man can be touched by any woman, then… he’s not my man. ”

Oh, there it is; the attitude that rarely comes out from you, taking a step closer at the point you're breathing in the air he spells — besides the height difference. You’re challenging him with no fear, with no doubt. Looking straight into his eyes, contemplating how they darken themselves. That man is angry for real, making a huge effort to not lose his mind, the control over his body. Not with you. Maybe with a poor devil that crosses paths with him tonight. But you’re hurt. And so it’s your ego. Gho— Simon is yours. Nobody else can't touch him with that kind of intention but you, even when you don’t touch him like that; because the two of you have a non-verbal arrangement that he’s your guard dog and you don’t make any complaints.

Your heart races at the moment he takes a step back, away from you, not uttering a single word, making you feel frustrated for preventing you from seeing his face at this moment. How much would you love to burn down the balaclava he’s wearing (...).  But, at least, it seems like he has understood that you need some time alone to put down the feelings and emotions blurring your head like stormy clouds covering the sun from nowhere.

( A few hours later. )

“ What… What are you doing here? ”

Even if it was quite a surprise to find your lieutenant, fully equipped, sitting in front of your bed in the middle of the night, you didn't feel like he was a menace, nor like you were in danger. You didn't even care to ask how he had sneaked inside your house outwitting the alarm.

“ Go back to sleep, little bird. ” The murmur left his covered lips as he bent over just a little, enough to rest his arms onto his lap, getting a better view of you obeying without complaining and laying down between the sheets.

For a reason you can’t understand, you wake up with your heart racing and a thin layer of sweat covering your whole body. The survivor mode has been turned on. It wasn’t a nightmare, but a memory haunting you. The room is submerged in darkness, only illuminated by a lamppost outside, but what leaves you with no words is the empty chair in front of your eyes. Ghost is not there. And he should be.

Turning on the light, you look for your phone. No calls. No texts. Nothing. Cleaning the sweat from your forehead with a tissue, you toss away the wet sheets and walk barefoot outside of your room, touring the small flat.

“ Simon…? ”

Maybe he has gone for a glass of water or something, but you don’t receive a word back, nor a hint that he’s there. It’s only you and the silence of the night.

A sharp pinch stabs your heart. But what is that? Pain, sorrow, regret? Sadness? For a moment, you think that calling him is a good idea, disappearing as you remember what you told him earlier this evening. Has he taken that really seriously? No. That’s not typical of him. He would fight. And, for you, he would go to hell and be back before the blink of an eye, after turning off the flames that consume the place.

But then, why is the first night in almost two years he is not there, watching over you while you sleep?

Where are you, Ghost…?

feedback is appreciated and needed. please, if you have read this shot, leave a comment and / or reblog. don’t forget we do it for free to contribute to your entertainment and interactions are what make us keep writing every day.

Reblog if you’re bisexual, support bisexuals, or want all racists dead

Soul-bonds & Heartaches - Chapter III

I apologise for the very long wait for this chapter, in all honesty I had no idea how to move forward from Chapter II but this felt right, and it felt true to the relationship between existing characters, to an extent.

Geralt is tied to these two women in two distinctly different ways, and it's only now that he has all the information, he can make the decision he needs to. But that doesn't come without its consequences, which subsequently leads to other consequences.

I apologise again for the long wait, and hope to update with another chapter soon! I truly hope you guys enjoy this chapter! <333

TW: (slight?) angst

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

Andromeda had thought they had come to an understanding. She had fallen asleep with a smile on her face and hope in her heart.

She dreamed of waking up to the sun heating her face as it slowly rose, opening her eyes to ashes of a well-worn fire as a gentle breeze brushed through her hair before her gaze met Geralt's.

She thought they would've exchanged gentle smiles, would've looked for excuses throughout the day to brush past each other, and engaged in small conversations hidden from the sight of others. And then, maybe when they had gotten too distracted or brushed too close to death on one adventure or the next, they would've exchanged a kiss. A small, hesitant kiss that they poured all their emotions into, where they succumbed to their desires and the strings of destiny.

Instead, she had awoken to burning lips and a quivering heart. She knew. The moment the feeling spread over her, she knew.

Andromeda couldn't open her eyes in fear of what she would find.

Geralt and Yennefer locked in a battle of passion? The two carressing each other in gentle affection?

She feared she would find a liar and a coward in the place where she had seen her Geralt in the glowing embers of last night's fire.

But she couldn't escape his senses.

Unbeknownst to her, as she curled in on herself, eyes clenched shut as tears welled in her eyes, and she pretended to sleep as she stifled her laboured breaths, Geralt knew she was awake. And he knew she felt his betrayal just like she had every other time.

His soul roiled in its place, his heart burned in guilt. It was not what it seemed.

***

Yennefer had woken up before the rest had, before the sun had risen and its warmth had replaced what was lost as the campfire died out.

Geralt waited for her to say something as she sat up, to say 'good morning' or to say she would take watch instead, but she simply sat and stared.

He lost his patience quite quickly, feeling the way her stare burned into the side of his head as he forced his gaze away from Rory and onto her instead.

She looked amused.

"What?"

His words were gruff, full of curiosity and annoyance. He knew he had no right to be annoyed. He had pursued Yennefer just as much as she pursued him. But it was different then.

Now, knowing that his Rory felt the same about him as he did about her, knowing she had been longing for him from the day they met, that her heart yearned for him, everything changed.

Andromeda could have ran, every time he had bed another woman, she could have walked away. And even yesterday, she could have turned away without giving him a second glance.

But she was full of compassion and sincerity, and she gave away chances as easily as she gave away her heart. It had just taken him too long to realise it was him she had gifted it to.

Yennefer didn't answer him, instead making her way to her feet as she strutted his way, her movements slow and sensual. She was so sure of herself, so confident she would get what she wanted. And Geralt was scared that, somehow, she would.

She stood behind him, hands on his shoulders as she leaned down and pressed her breasts into his bacm, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "you look tense. I could help you."

Her voice was low and sultry, and Geralt from a few days ago would have given into her words immediately, but the Geralt that sat in front of her now only grimaced at her words. His shoulders raised as he pulled himself from her embrace, standing to his full height as he turned on her - "no."

"No?" Yennefer was shocked, sure she had seen the looks the two exchanged, the way they smiled at one another when they thought the other wasn't looking, but it had never made Geralt reject her.

"No," Geralt had the knack to look at least somewhat apologetic, his eyes furrowing as he looked down at Yennfer in sympathy, "the circumstances have changed."

"Geralt, you told me that destiny tied us. That destiny wanted us together."

"I was wrong, Yen. Destiny didn't pick you, I did. But I can't keep choosing you anymore."

"Geralt..." her hand came up to rest at his cheek, her eyes pooling with tears as she shook her head in denial, "you love me."

Geralt let her keep her hands on his face, let her take what she needed as he broke the heart of another woman he cared for. He shook his head, "I don't. I love her."

It was a whispered confession, his voice shaky as the truth came out, and Geralt found a weight lift of his chest at the revelation, "I love her," he repeated.

"I'm sorry, Yennefer," she felt her heart break further at the sound of her name on his lips, "I can't love you, I can't pick you."

Yennefer's other hand reached up for his cheek, both now cradling his face as she ran her fingers over familiar lines and scars. She pulled him closer, but he resisted.

"Please, Geralt. Just one more time."

Her voice was desperate, he could smell the defeat permeating off of her, and when he gave in and brushed his lips against her own, he could taste it in her tears too.

The kiss was familiar, it was easy. It was a goodbye.

***

Geralt pulled away from Yennefer, as though her lips against his own had burned him the way it burned Andromeda.

He felt anger festering in the pits of his stomach, he hated himself for giving in so easily, for hurting Rory again.

He wanted to go to her, to plead with her to listen to him and know that it meant nothing to him. That it was a goodbye for Yennefer and not a betrayal to her. That he loves her. He needs her.

But with Yennefer's hands holding his face once more, and Jaskier rousing from his sleep, he had again lost his chance, and perhaps he had now lost her.

***

As they packed their gear, the air was stifled with tension. As Yennefer, Geralt, and Andromeda stayed away from each other, it did not take much guessing from Jaskier and Cirilla to realise what had probably happened.

Cirilla observed her aunt, worry colouring her eyes as she watched her move with no real purpose, her eyes empty as if every ounce of hope and life had been washed out.

Geralt was like a father to Cirilla, she craved his affection and even more his approval. But she knew that Geralt had to be the one responsible for her aunt's state, and she couldn't help the anger that bubbled in her chest as the minutes ticked by and Andromeda lost more of herself to the quiet around her.

Still, no one spoke as they carried on their journey, marching through the barren-land with their rations untouched and their stomachs full of lead.

Cirilla stood next to Andromeda, holding her hand tightly as she kept her aunt close to her side and safe. All the while, she would glare at Geralt every time she noticed his gaze stray towards Andromeda, forcing him to look back at the path ahead as he wiped any essence of emotion from his face.

But every once in a while, his expression would become drowned once more, and he would find himself throwing agonised glances her way.

Cirilla remained unaware of the guilty glances Yennefer threw their way.

***

When they had reached the nearest village, it didn't take long for stories about a nasty group of ghouls at the local cemetery that had been eating dead corpses and unknowing citizens, to spread.

It had gotten so bad that the people of the village they had come across refused to leave their homes after dark. So when they had reached a tavern, after a silent agreement they could all do with some hot food and rest, Geralt found himself agreeing to a large pouch of silver and a long, comfortable stay in the tavern in exchange for slaying the beasts.

He had agreed easily, of course. Needing something to channel his pent-up energy into, the anger and guilt that festered in him and the anguish that settled in his heart every time Andromeda brushed past him like he was not there, every time he tried to speak to her and failed.

Yennefer was still here. She couldn't leave knowing she was why the group had become so broken and frail. Perhaps her leaving would have made it easier for Andromeda to breathe, but it wouldn't lessen the pain Yennefer had caused.

She loves Geralt, and she wants to see him happy. He chose her every time before that day in the tavern, but she knew every time he had picked her there was a part of him that yearned for Andromeda.

She tried to hide from the truth in their moans and sighs, tried to find solace in their pleasurable escapades, tried to make Andromeda jealous, and assert the idea that Geralt was her's.

But he wasn't.

He may have picked Yennefer because of the cards destiny had given him, but Andromeda's name was scrawled across his heart. He needed Andromeda in a way Yennefer could never replace.

A heart-breaking revelation she had slowly been coming to peace with.

She would leave the group in peace, but she wanted to fix her mess first.

***

Darkness had drawn over the sky when Geralt prepared to leave, and as he sheathed his sword Cirilla couldn't find it within herself to plead with him to let her join, as she had done so many times before.

Cirilla couldn't leave Andromeda, couldn't pick Geralt over her.

Andromeda may not have been her blood, but she was the only family Cirilla had left from the life she lived before.

Geralt didn't try and push Cirilla to join. He didn't ask Jaskier to play bait, knowing he was disappointed in him, too. And he couldn't look towards Yennefer, fearful that one glance would confirm every terrified thought Andromeda had running through her head.

He had smelt the stench of agony on her. It was heavy and brittle and still so sweet in a way that was perfect for her. She was beautiful even when she was in pain.

He took one last glance towards his ragged group of friends, a longing gaze marked for the woman who had stolen his heart and burned her presence into his soul. He lowered his head in shame, gruffly clearing his throat as he spoke, "you should all get some rest. Don't wait up for me."

He walked out, his form much more quainter than any of them had seen it before.

A few moments of silence had passed, and then it looked like Yennefer was going to speak.

But Andromeda beat her to it, sensing the conversation looming ahead she pushed herself up from her seat, "I'm going to my room."

She didn't wait for any reply, walking sluggishly to her room as her thoughts threatened to drown her.

Some distance away, Geralt circled the cemetery he entered, waiting for movement. Nothing came.

He needed bait, but there was no one around but himself. So he pulled his small dagger, pressing the knife into his hand and dragging a cut across his palm.

Replacing the dagger, he squeezed his hand closed, relishing in the pain as blood dripped into the soil beneath his feet.

He waited a breath, and then he heard it. Soft growling from all around him as the beasts scuttled in a frenzy.

He waited for them to attack, always on the move, and he pushed them back with his sword and sigils. He had fought enough ghouls to battle them with ease, waiting for one to separate from the group, snarling loud in rage as it got ready to attack, making it a priority to kill before repeating.

Geralt continued his dance, never giving the ghouls a long enough break to catch him off guard and never working too hard to break a sweat. One by one, he hacked down each monster until he was the only beast left standing.

The butchered corpses of seven ghouls laid at his feet, satisfaction filling his gut as he considered his work. He raised his head to the sky, taking in the darkness as he realised not much time would have passed since he left, but there also wasn't long until sunrise.

Geralt couldn't stand having to go back in and face his companions, a part of him was even scared to.

Scared they would leave him for his transgressions, hate him, and abandon him just like his mother had once done.

His heart sank to his stomach, never had he felt such emotions, strong enough to rock him back and forth between the idea of running away or facing his problems head on.

He didn't know what to do.

Until he did.

It was still night, and Andromeda hated the dark. So it would be unlikely she was asleep.

Perhaps she was stargazing, a hobby she was so fond of. Geralt recalls the way her eyes glittered as she peered at the starlight, the way she emanated joy and delight as she pointed out constellations and spoke of the legends and fables behind them, how her heart raced when her eyes found his and her eyes would track his face as though she had found her favourite constellation in him.

He needed to find her. He needed to see her and speak to her and explain.

Maybe it wouldn't help, maybe it would make her hate him more. But the weight of such a confession sat unbearable on his shoulders, he needed her to know.

To know why he kissed Yennefer, to know of his guilt and of his sorrow. But mostly, to know of his truth.

Geralt could no longer hide behind cowardice - a truth badly disguised as indifference and intimidation.

Geralt found his steps hurrying back to the tavern, his footfalls heavy as he forced himself not to take off in a sprint. He pushed and pushed until he found himself at the tavern doors, never taking a breath to stop as he pushed through, tearing past a silent trio huddled by a fire and finding his way to the room he knew Andromeda would be in.

Faintly he hears Jaskier exclaim from his place by the fire, "fucking, finally!" And he feels a ghost of a smile stretch across his face.

A smile that sinks when he finds himself face-to-face with the door that separated him and the woman he had given his heart to, years before he had even realised.

Geralt wasn't sure if he should knock or barge in like he had done at the other tavern not so long ago. He wasn't sure if he should call out to her or simply get onto his knees and beg from outside.

His hand rested on the doorknob, steady and gentle as he twisted the door and creaked it open, "Rory?"

His voice was quiet, a hopeful whisper that was left unanswered.

As the door opened wider, Geralt could feel his heart sink at the realisation of what he had missed on his wild dash here. Something he should have realised miles before he had even reached the tavern once more.

He couldn't smell her sweet, sickly scent, the absence of orange blossoms and jasmine weighing heavy in his heart.

He couldn't hear her quiet breathing as she drowned herself in her imagination or her ragged breaths as she tried to hold back tears.

He couldn't hear the rustle of fabric as she fidgeted and picked at the loose strings in her clothes, or the sound of her comb brushing through her hair, or her huffs of boredom, or groans of irritations. Nothing.

Geralt could no longer hear the sound of her heartbeat.

He pushed open the door, his mind almost out of control as his actions became desperate. The room was bare, even of Andromeda's belongings and opposite him sat a lonely window, its sheer curtain billowing in the winds.

Rory had left. And it was all his fault.

Geralt's eyes burned, but he no longer had the strength to hold back his tears and let them fall freely down his face.

He walked the rest of the way in the room, sitting down heavily on the bed and basking in the faint smell of orange blossoms that surrounded him, and hidden between them was a scent he recognised as determination.

Geralt looked down at his hands, bloodied and destroyed, and found himself imagining a life where he hadn't lost Andromeda to his stupid mistakes.

He would fix this. He had to.

Taglist: @welliguessiwritethingsnow @kneelforloki @xicesam @lovesickollie @supersoilderswhxre @henryownsme @makemydaysworthit @pookiesnatcher

The Vengeful Deceiver - Teen Wolf Fanfiction

Scarlett Black, she has been a vampire for 8 years and now forced to go back to school, forced to control herself in front of so much food. All for a puppy.

MASTERLIST

<< Previous - Next >>

CHAPTER 8

"So you killed her?" Stiles asked as they entered the school.

"I don't know," Scott answewd, "I've just woke up."

The puppy remembered what had happened the night before. More or less. But he remembered as if it had been a dream and, of course, that he had attacked Allison. As if he couldn't become more predictable...

Anyway, Scarlett feared that he would have remembered her, but she could not go away now; it would have been too strange.

"I was sweating like crazy; I couldn't breathe. I never had a dream where I woke up like that before," Scott said, turning to them.

"Really?" Stiles asked from next to Scarlett, "I have. Usually ends a little differently." A smirk appeared on her lips as she looked at him. Stiles spun his head towards her with wide eyes.

"I... I mean..." she could feel how flustered he was. That was so strange. She could not only see it, she felt it. And she had to fight her fangs to come out.

"It's alright," she said, smirking up at him. "We all have wet dreams."

"Oh my god..." but she ignored him, wanting to know more about the puppy and what he remembered. So she could come up with a quick response if needed.

"Yeah, but A, I never had a dream that felt so real," Scott said, glaring at his friend, "And B, never give me that many details of you in bed."

Stiles nodded his head, looking at Scarlett for a brief moment, "Noted," then he took a deep breath, "Let me take a guess here though-"

"No, I know," Scott interrupted him, "You think it has something to do with me going out with Allison tomorrow like I'm gonna lose control and rip her throat out."

Scarlett did her best not to roll her eyes. The puppy really had only one thought in his head. But that was not exactly a bad thing. If it made him remember everything as if it were a dream, the better. Well, no, maybe not, since the body of the Driever was still in the parking lot.

"No, of course not," Stiles was saying, but when Scott turned to him with a glare, he spoke again, "Yeah, that's probably it."

Scarlett shook her head, "In the dream there was blood?"

Scott looked at her before sadly nodding his head.

"Alright," she said, "And nothing of yours was covered in blood? Or have her scent?"

Scott seemed to think about it. She was sure there was no trace of blood on him since he did absolutely nothing if not put himself in between. But she needed to look nice and understanding, so when he told her that he did not see blood or remember her scent, Scarlett smiled.

"I think you're probably fine, then," Scarlett said, "It must have been just a dream."

"Scarlett is right," Stiles said, looking at his friend. "Come on, it's gonna be fine, all right?" but Scott didn't answer, "Personally, I think you're handling this pretty freakin' amazingly. You know, it's not like there's a lycanthropy for beginners class you can take," then he turned to Scarlett, "Right?" the girl frowned.

"No, listen, don't look here," she said, "He'd need another werewolf."

"Like a teacher?" Scott asked, but in the way he said it, it seemed like he had already thought about that.

Scarlett nodded her head, "Everybody needs to learn somehow," she said, "Your body changes, your needs change. And soon, if you don't control it, it's going to control you," She still remembered what Talia had always said to her. From the moment they had found her, Talia and Peter had been the ones helping her with the beginning of her change. Even if, after everything that happened, Scarlett didn't keep her promise to stay as human as she could. She killed for rage at the beginning, but then it became fun. She knew that Talia didn't want that for her, but there was nothing else to do, if not killing every single Argent.

Stiles turned to his friend with wide eyes, "Who Derek?" he asked, and when Scott didn't answer, he slapped him behind the head, "You forgetting the part where we got him tossed in jail?"

What did she have to do? Say something? Say anything? Say that she knew Derek Hale? Or maybe not?

Maybe telling everything would have been more suspicious. Maybe she could find other times to tell it to them.

She had to be very careful. Derek was an unexpected change of events and not very pleasant. He was not like her or Peter.

"Yeah, I know," Scott answered. "But chasing her, dragging her to the back of the bus, it felt so real." Scarlett frowned. That was so strange; he remembered, but at the same time, he didn't. Something similar had happened the night before, but it was the driver.

"How real?" Stiles asked.

"Like it actually happened," Scott said, and Scarlett did her best not to draw any attention to herself. She was glad that her heart didn't beat anymore, or it would have been very difficult to explain.

They had arrived at the parking lot entrance, and Scarlett stooped behind the boys as they opened the door. What they saw made them gasp; the back door of the bus was torn open, and blood was everywhere. Scarlett's eyes moved to the puppy as Stiles spoke, "I think it did."

Scott immediately took his phone and went back into the school. Stiles and Scarlett shared a look before they both followed him.

"She is probably fine," Stiles said, trying to calm his friend. Scarlett observed the puppy, if he lost control would have been a mess. But he wasn't the only one who was feeling worry and fear. Her eyes went to Stiles, who was walking in front of her. She knew that those emotions weren't hers; they were his.

This bond thing was actually starting to freak her out. She had never thought that she would have felt like that. She absolutely had to talk to Peter and understand how to keep it under control.

"She's not answering my texts, Stiles!" Scott exclaimed, panicking.

"You know, it could just be a coincidence," Stiles said before looking down, "A seriously amazing coincidence."

"You're not helping," Scarlett said to him.

"Just help me find her, okay?" Scott begged, and Scarlett started to look around, trying to seem as worried as she could, even if she knew perfectly well that the girl was fine. For now, at least.

Scott was completely panicked right now. He would have turned if he had kept going on like this. Scarlett put a hand on Stiles' chest, holding him behind her as Scott turned the corner.

"He's gonna turn?" Stiles asked.

"If he keeps it like this, for sure," Scarlett answered, hearing a loud noise like the one given by a punch on metal. Scott had just destroyed a locker. Then she looked up at Stiles. His brown eyes were wide as he observed his friend, unsure of what to do. Maybe she should have acted a little more worried. Allison was supposed to be her friend.

"Isn’t your dad the sheriff?" Scarlett asked Stiles as they kept following Scott.

"What? Yeah..." he answered from behind her.

"Any emergencies?” she asked, and she observed him think as his fingers tapped the straps of his bag frenatically. "If she had disappeared yesterday night, her parents would have called the police, wouldn't they?" Scarlett said. The Argents would have never slept well without knowing where their daughter was. If he could just stop for a moment and think, maybe he wouldn't have revealed to the entire school who he was.

And in fact, here she was, at the entrance, getting a jump scare from the puppy.

"Ah, thank God," Stiles said, from next to Scarlett.

"Yeah..." she muttered, looking at the two.

He did not remember a thing from the night before. Scarlett knew that werewolves could be weak; they could lose control if they felt too strong emotions, especially if they were puppies. But Scarlett could not believe that he could even forget what he had been doing the night before.

"You've got Harris too?" Stiles' question made her turn to meet his eyes. The color of his eyes was of a strange color, in a good way. But it was the smell of his blood that caught her off guard. She already knew it, but it felt different.

"Yes," she said, taking a step back. "We... we better go."

The two of them decided to leave Scott to talk with Allison, and they made their way to Harris's classroom. Stiles did most of the talking, and Scarlett could not say that she was listening to him. Her eyes would keep lingering on his face, and so would the softness of his skin. She could almost hear his blood in his veins, and she would have gladly bit him, but not for hunger.

What the hell is happening?

"Don't you think?" Stiles' question made her turn to him with a frown. The smile on his face slowly got replaced by an embarrassed one. "I've bored you, haven't I?"

"No," she was quick to answer, "Not at all, I was just... thinking what would have happened if Scott had turned inside the school."

"Yeah," he answered, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. "Glad it didn't happen." It would have been difficult to explain to the entire school. The puppy was lovesick for sure, and Scarlett was not sure he would be of any use against the Argent.

"Are you okay?" She looked up at him when he asked that question. He was not inquisitive, only asking. Almost concerned. She was not used to that kind of gaze.

"Yeah," she said, looking away with a smile, "Yeah, just a tough morning that will only get tougher with Harris."

Stiles chuckled. "Oh, I know," he said, nodding his head. Nobody hates him like me. " Then he seemed to think about it. "And... nobody hates me like he does." That made her laugh, and as she did, Stiles looked at her with a cute, goofy expression, proud of himself for having her giggling.

"Well," she said as her eyes met his, "His loss."

As they entered the classroom, some students, including Harris, were already there. Scarlett frowned in observing the man; he was young, pleasant to look at, but he seemed already pissed at nine A.M. That was not attractive on a man.

There were not three seats at the same table, so Scarlett gave a glance to Stiles. "I guess I'll talk to you later."

He nodded his head quickly, "Yeah, yeah, for sure." Then he started to look around. "I'm gonna sit there," he pointed at a table not far from them. But as he was about to move, he turned to her with wide eyes, "Only if you don't want to sit there! It's not like that is my seat or something, just a seat. And it is in the back. But if you want it."

"Stiles," she stopped him, "You're ranting." Suddenly, a blush appeared on his face. The rush of his blood to his face, the beating of his heart, and the shyness that she was feeling from him had another strange effect on her.

"I'm sitting there," she said, trying to move away from him as quickly as possible. That was not normal. Why was Stiles getting her so distracted?

I have to speak to Peter, she told herself.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked to a girl with long black hair and pale skin. She looked up to her when she heard Scarlett's voice, and she blinked her dark eyes.

"No, you can sit," she said in a faint voice before returning to the sketch she was making in her notebook. That was a strange girl, for sure. Scarlett had already seen her; her name was Irene Woods, and she was considered strange by many people. Lydia always said that she freaked her out. Irene was always alone; she had no friends, and she usually talked to herself and whispered when she talked to others.

The lesson had started, and Scott had made it in time so as to not get detention. But if he wasn't late for class, he surely wasn't keeping a low profile. Not him or Stiles.

"Mr. Stilinski," Harris said in a loud voice, "If that's your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while." Scarlett turned to look at the boys; they had been whispering since when Scott had first taken a seat. "I think you and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?"

"No," Stiles said with wide eyes. But his big eyes did not work on Harris because he made him move and sit anyway. Her eyes followed him like she was feeling drawn to his figure. She was starting to regret her idea, but Peter seemed to love it, so she probably just needed to get used to sharing a bond with Stiles and understand what that meant and how to control it. Sure, she had always found him cute, and she would have gladly eaten him, but this felt different, and it was pissing her off.

"Hey, I think they found something." A girl's sudden voice made them all turn to the windows before some of them rushed to see what was happening outside. Scarlett got up so that she could seem worried like everyone else, even if she knew very well that the cops must have found the body.

"What if he is not dead?" Irene's voice made Scarlett turn her gaze to the girl; she was still sketching and not moving from her position.

"What did you say?" Scarlett asked just before everyone gasped. She decided to leave the girl where she was and made her way to Stiles and Scott.

"This is good. This is good," Stiles said. He got up; he was not dead. Dead guys don't do that." Scarlett had to do all she could to not let her shock appear on her face. What did he mean that the driver was not dead? He should have been. Dead and forgotten.

"Stiles," Scott whispered, "I did that."

********

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