How would Nicoloas react if his wife and infant son was kidnapped by an enemy or another family? AHH IM SO HAPPY GUYS EXIST I HOPE YOU DO GREAT ON THIS BLOG!!!
Ah~ thank you so much! Here again, yet another answer that turned into scenario and I’m not even sorry. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it nonnie~♥
just come out of the shower. He was still dripping wet–wearing nothing but
boxers and a towel around his neck–, when Worick told him there was a voicemail
for him. He guessed by the dark look on his friend’s face he had already heard
it, and it was no good news.
hear the message but he made Worick sign it for him, over and over so he wouldn’t
miss any details. It was his wife speaking. Worick didn’t say it, but his
distressed expression was enough to imagine how panicky she must’ve sound, maybe
on the verge of tears. She said she was fine. They were both fine, he didn’t
have to worry; they hadn’t hurt them. But
please, oh please Nicolas, you have to cooperate with them, or they might.
Worick made a
quick, jerky sign: “Another voice. A man.”
He had to be
a good boy. He had to listen to his wife and do exactly as they said. No
calling the police or asking anyone from the big three or the guild for help,
or he could give his family up for dead. They would kill his baby-boy first, so
that his wife would suffer for a while before they put a bullet in her head as
well. That was it. They would be contacting him in 24 hours with new
instructions. Have a good day Nic.
For the longest
time Nicolas just stood there, disconnected from the world around him, feeling
the first waves of self-hate wash over him. Worick was trying to infuse some
rational thought into him; they were just trying to shake him, they were giving
him a whole day to worry and lose his head. He couldn’t fall for it. He had to
keep calm. But Nicolas couldn’t make any sense of what he was saying; Worick’s
mouth kept moving meaninglessly, and he had suddenly forgotten all the sign
language he knew.
He had failed. This thought suffused each and
every compartment of his mind. He had failed at the one single mission he had
ever cared about, failed to keep the promise he made to his wife on their wedding
day; the vow to keep their family safe till the end of his life.
drained away to make room for obliterating wrath; a thirst for blood like he
had never felt before. His pulse sped up, his jaw muscles quivered with rage.
He picked up the Katana leaning against the office’s desk. The cold grip in his
hand felt oddly comforting; it helped wipe away any remaining traces of
worthlessness. He felt, not quite powerful, but maybe capable of turning things
He strode past
Worick–disregarding his attempts to reason with him–, and took the bottle of
celebrer sitting on the table in the middle of the living room. He had already
removed the lid and was about to toss it all back, but then Worick’s hand was
there, holding firmly down the bottle. He was frowning; his eyes were sympathetic
“Put that down pal,” he said. “That’s an order.”
In some other
situation, Nicolas may have obeyed, but not this time. He bared his teeth at
him: “I nee’ it!” he barked.
“And what are you going to do after you
“Kill who!? We have no idea who has them! We
need to think this through pal. They won’t hurt them for the time being, it
wouldn’t help them alright? They want something from you and they won’t get it
that way. We have 24 hours to make a plan, but for fuck’s sake you need to calm
say anything at first, neither did he let go of the bottle or give any other sign
he had understood what his partner had said. But then his grasp on the bottle
slackened, just enough for Worick to pull it out of his hand. Tears struck
Nicolas at the very same time. He cried brokenly, helplessly, like he couldn’t
remember having ever cried; clutching his sword to his burning chest and bowing
his head to conceal those embarrassing, child tears behind his dripping bangs.
sighed. “Wait for me, pal.”
to the kitchen, mumbling an unceasing string of “shit,shit,shit” to himself. When he came back–having put the
celebrer away from his partner’s reach and carrying an open beer bottle on each
hand–, Nicolas was sitting on the couch and his sobs had wound down to erratic
hiccups and sniffles. Worick offered him one of the bottles, half-expecting him
to reject it as he usually did, but instead Nicolas took it and downed half its
content in one go.
like being drunk. He didn’t like the way it hindered the senses that made up
for his lack of hearing. But in that particular moment, he craved something
capable of dulling his frayed nerves.
giving him this troubled look of compassion and he hated it. He almost wished
he was forcing jokes and faking smiles, like he had seen him do even in the
worst scenarios; it would have soothed him a little.
signed something. His hands were shaking with fury and, why not admit it? Shitfaced
fear. “I have to do something.”
nodded: “We will.”
“I’m going to kill them,” he signed. The
movements were fast and unsteady, but there was deadly resolution on his face. “Slowly.”
Okay, so I feel like trash. I NEVER wanted to be that Stydia shipper who shipped Maleo. I felt, and maybe it’s because of the CONSTANT Teen Wolf Ship Wars, that shipping Maleo would make people think I was only doing it because I wanted Malia out of the picture for Stydia.
So I resisted. In the trailers when my stomach got all shjsudhkwkwhe when Theo looks at her (you know the shot) and when she sees him in the gym (you KNOW Malia, me too girl) I didn’t do a damn thing about my feels. Even though my head was SCREAMING OTP.
Let’s start with the basics: I love Malia Tate. I think she’s a great character with amazing potential and she has some of best one liners this series has ever seen. Shelley Henning is a blessing to the show bringing an energy to it that it never had before her. But NO, I do not ship Stalia. In my opinion, I felt like all the scenes between her and Stiles marked her up as just Stiles’ love interest, which as a viewer pissed me off. I wanted badass Malia Tate to be more than just a love interest. Someone like Allison Argent (in the later seasons). More than just her boy.
And so when they introduced Theo and she was automatically all against his dumb face in the first few episodes I was like my babies. Look at them hating each other. BECAUSE I love relationships that aren’t easy, I love connections that are convoluted and I love that Malia is her own person this season without Stiles. (They haven’t had much screen time and Malia’s character hasn’t suffered because of it…she’s thrived…my badass baby).
I want the angst and the struggle of Maleo. I want Theo to be the worst piece of shit in the world and I want Malia to take all of that compassion she’s learned from her pack to bring him to the good guy’s side. I want it all. I want funny dynamics because she isn’t having any of Theo’s shit. I want him to think he’s charming and for her to be like “uh….says who?” I want Malia to make a man worthy of her instead of worshipping at Stiles feet.
I want Malia Tate to be with Theo. I ship Maleo. And no, I’m not sorry about it.
The worst part about all of this, though, is that I was AFRAID to ship something I adored. I didn’t want to be judged or get hate (even though I don’t have many follows) about liking something I like. The Teen Wolf fandom’s passion is ridiculous and amazing and sometime’s terrifying.
So I guess this is just my PSA saying I ship Maleo and will be fangirling over it. Not because of Stalia. Not because of Stydia. Nope. Because of Maleo.