Duke and Duchess of Cambridge +Prince Harry will attend a private service on Saturday to re-dedicate the grave of Diana, Princess of Wales. The re-dedication of Diana’s grave – on what would have been her 56th birthday – will be conducted by @JustinWelby. Kensington Palace is stressing that the re-dedication of Diana’s grave will be a private service. Prince Charles will not attend the re-dedication of his ex-wife’s grave. He will be in Canada with the Duchess of Cornwall. Prince George and Princess Charlotte will attend the re-dedication of Diana’s grave. Diana’s brother, Earl Spencer and her sisters are also expected to attend the service. Officials say they’ve made public a private service because it’s the 20th ann of Diana’s death and it would be difficult to keep it secret.
Peter didn't lure him for political comments, is asking him did he know the situation and they raise awareness of this but no help , how to do about it. Yes the 2nd Q is bit politics related, but is a question they should had an answer for, Harry's is good, not only stated his cause, acknowledge his position, and sort of saying, to solve this is by everyone got involved. They raised the awareness, after that is the public's move, if there's should have a change, public can go to politicians IMO
You’re right anon, I’ve since seen the interview and it wasn’t a super risky question or anything, the question about Meghan bothered me a hell of a lot more. Harry did a very good job at answering everything to the best of his ability and dodging where necessary imo ^^ thanks anon
Like Him (Peter Maximoff x Reader) (Run Out On Me PT 2)
Summary: Peter regrets everything and you dont feel a thing.
Authors Note: Hello angels! I’m sorry for not posting recently, I’ve had a lot on my plate during the past month or so BUT I’m back for now. Anyways here’s the highly requested Run Out On Me Part 2! Enjoy <3
Warming(s): Swearing and angst.
You remember crying that night, to the point where you had no tears and your throat was dry from all the sobs you’d let out. You didn’t dare move from where you were, scared that if you returned to your bedroom, you would break down all over again. So you stayed seated on the floor of your once shared living room, watching a re-run of friends and running through all the possible scenarios of what could have been your future.
If you were scared before, you sure as hell were now. The thought of raising a child on your own scared you, especially with how unpredictable your mutation was and how it was more than likely that your child would end up with one too. You knew absolutely nothing about parenting , let alone looking after a newborn since you’d never had any younger siblings to help care for.
You had no clue what to do with yourself that night, so you just slept. The next day you’d called up your good friend Jean Grey, who you knew from the X-mansion and told her everything. Of course you’d ended up breaking into tears again, but you were happy to know that someone supported you and was ecstatic for you. You remember laughing as Scott threatened to hunt Peter down and beat him up, but you didn’t care for him. Not anymore. You were also lucky enough to have a secure job teaching along side Charles Xavier, so you knew you were supported in that department too.
Over the course of your pregnancy Jean helped set up necessary appointments and often tagged along with you if you were feeling nervous, you couldn’t ask for a better friend. Jubilee organised your baby shower at the X-mansion where the gender of your baby was revealed, you were delighted to be reunited with your friends from school as well as your old teachers. You were practically glowing that day, and even cried due to the overwhelming support you had gotten from everyone.
Practically the whole X-men team had been with you for the delivery of your baby, and you’d never felt so grateful for anyone in your whole life. They were like a family to you and you’d finally gotten that sense of security back.
So here you were, almost four years down the line with a beautiful baby girl. She was your everything and you couldn’t be more content with your lives at the moment.
A wail from the living room brought you out of your reverie, your head whipped over to the little girl who was playing on the floor in front of the TV. You put down the knife you were using to chop some vegetables and made your way into the living room. There you saw your little girl, eyes watery with tears.
“Hiya baby” you cooed to the silver haired girl. You swear she was the spitting image of Peter. It was like a curse. Every time you looked at her you felt an overwhelming sense of anger that couldn’t replace the love you shared with Peter. This little girl had been brought into the world because of the love you’d once shared. A constant reminder of what could have been. “What’s the matter angel?”
The little girl looked up at you, reaching out for what you could only assume, was a hug. Grinning, you leaned down to pick up your baby before balancing her on your hip. “I’m hungry mama” she whined, looking up at you with those big doe eyes.
You rolled your eyes and sighed, weaving through the various toys scattered around, in order to get back to the kitchen. “But Amara, baby, dinner’s almost ready” you chided “Can’t you wait a little bit longer babygirl?”
Once in the kitchen, you seated your daughter in her chair and placed some paper and crayons in front of her. She pouted before stubbornly getting to work on her drawing. “No mama! I’m hungry now!”
You looked back at her from your place at the stove, a knowing look gracing your features. You opened your snack draw (which you usually kept locked because Amara was a sneaky little thing) and pulled out a Twinkie, she was obsessed with them, just like her father. “Alright baby” you cooed, your back still to the little girl “You can have one but you have to promise to eat all of your dinner alri-”
You gasped, dropping the snack as you turned to face your daughter. Her eyes were glazed over with a silver light. Amara’s mouth hung open, it too with a glimmering light. Her hair was floating behind her, along with the objects in her orbit. You quickly went to reach for her, but within an instant, it stopped.
“Yes baby? Are you ok-?”
“Are we going to the x-mansion soon?” She asked, calmly returning to her colouring. Your brows furrowed, wondering if she was okay.
“No baby I didn’t plan on it. Why?” You questioned frantically, coming to crouch down by her chair. You brushed some hair out of her supple face as she worked.
“I saw you-us and Mr Xavier” she babbled, smiling to herself. “He was doing test thingies. You thought I had a mutation, what’s a mutation? I thought it was just a memory but then I realised I’ve never been before”
You sat back on your knees as she continued her babbling, your hand forming a firm grip on the edge of the table. You looked down at the floor, realising that this was it. This was your daughter’s mutation. You quickly pulled yourself together, running to the counter and grabbing your phone. Swiftly, you turned around, running a hand through your tangled hair as you dialled a number.
It rang once.
All the while you observed your daughter, who was minding her own business as if nothing happened. “Hello?”
“Jean how fast can you get here?”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I think Amara’s found her mutation”
You twiddled your thumbs nervously as you walked beside Charles. Hank had just ran some tests on your three -nearly four- year old daughter. You let out a shaky breath, as you followed the man to the lab. When Amara was just a baby, you prayed that she wouldn’t get a mutation. You didn’t want her to grow up, feeling the same way Peter did, especially if they were going to be similar.
“Don’t be worried (Y/N)” Charles reassured you, disrupting your chaotic thoughts. You felt your mind come to a stop at the sound of Charles’ voice in your head. “We’ll know what to do”
Silently, you nodded your head as the pair of you made your way through the lab doors. Desperately, you wanted to flick your wrists and slow down time - just for a second - so you could withhold the moment you found out if your daughter had a mutation or not. Yet, the suspense was killing you, you wanted to know.
“Hello (Y/N)!” Hank chirped as he met yourself and Charles at the entrance of the lab. You gave him a sheepish smile as you twiddled with your fingers nervously. “I haven’t seen you in a while! How’s things?”
“Everything is going well” you breathed out shakily. “Amara’s growing up nicely.”
Hank smiled sadly, shaking his head at your nervousness. “I know, but my question was directed at you”
Before you could respond, Hank had turned to face a computer. You looked down at Charles, who also had the same look of sadness etched onto his features before he wheeled his way over to her h the computer. You furrowed your brows. Why were the worrying about you? You were just concerned for your daughter. Livid, you marched over to Hank and pulled on his shoulder. “What are the results Hank? That’s what I’m here for”
“Be calm (Y/N), everything will be fine” Charles assured you. You softly bit your lip and dropped your hand to your side. Silently, you made your way over to a nearby desk and took a seat on its surface, desperately trying to calm your nerves. Hank tapped away at a few keys before the results appeared on the screen, you heard a faint gasp and instantaneously looked up.
“What? What’s wrong?”
You saw the look of concern the two men shared, before standing up and crossing your arms over your chest. Hank looked up at the results briefly before meeting your nervous gaze, he clicked away for a second before showing the results to you. “Your daughter” he began anxiously. “has a mutation-”
“As if that wasn’t obvious enough” you snapped as Charles put a hand on your arm reassuringly.
“A rare mutation” Hank continued, his eyes piercing through yours. “Your daughter, Amara, has the ability to see the near future in short bursts. It’s a result of a combination of yours and Peter’s mutations. Linking time and speed has allowed your daughter see briefly into anyone’s future”
You gasped, feeling weak in the knees. You fell back against the table, holding onto it for support. Hank rushed over to you, placing a soft hand your back and checking you over to see if you were okay. Your body shook, you were angry at yourself for letting this happen, you were angry at Peter for leaving you when he did. You kept your head down as Charles spoke up.
“Only few mutants have received these abilities before, so we know very little about this mutation but I can promise you that we can help your daughter as soon as you’re ready for us to. We know that being able to see every possible outcome for everyone’s future can be overwhelming and we will do our best to help Amara” Charles spoke carefully, afraid to scare or overwhelm you. All the while you listened silently, weighing out all possible options in your head. Would Amara fit in here? Is she too young?
“You don’t have to make up your mind now, (Y/N)” Charles whispered, comfortingly. “She’s still young, we can give it a few years”
You nodded silently, thanking the two pen for their time before making your way out the lab to find your daughter. You still had time to talk to her about this, you still had time to give her a better life than Peter’s.
Peter grinned down at the little girl who’d latched herself onto his leg. She was cute. She had a small button nose, her pale silver locks were combed back into a fishtail braid. She had large doe (eye colour) eyes that stood out against her supple skin.
He’d learned her name to be Amara, she was three and a half years old. How the girl came to be in Peter’s care was quite miraculous. He’d been speeding down the hallway after a long mission (as you would after being extremely exhausted), a little girl had ran out into his path causing him to veer to the right and crash. She laughed at him.
Peter couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity as he held the little girl, gently tossing her up and down in the air, watching her laugh with a toothy smile. She was missing her two front teeth and had these warm (eye colour) eyes that he swore he knew like the back of his hands. It was like he knew them, knew her.
The little girl - or better yet - Amara clapped her tiny hands together as Peter threw her up one last time before catching her and resting her on his hip. She grinned at him as he crossed his brown eyes and stuck his tongue out at her. “You’re funny” Amara giggled again, reminding Peter of a certain someone. “Just like my mummy”
“Well your mama must be a comedian ‘cause I’m s'posed to be the funniest guy around” Peter teased playfully, boooing the little girl’s nose. She shook her head slyly.
“Nuh-uh my Mummy’s the funniest” Amara argued.
“Amara!” A worried voice cut through the conversation and the little girl jumped out of Peter’s arms, she quickly ran over to the doorway of the common room she and Peter had been playing in before rushing into someone’s arms. “There you are baby! I was so worried! Kurt said he’d be watching you and-”
“S’okay mama! Peter was watching me!”
Peter’s eyes snapped up to meet the gaze of someone he thought he’d never see again. He could see how her worried expression had twisted and contorted into one of anger and bewilderment. She still looked the same, only better. Her hair was longer, thicker - Peter took note of that. Her curves were more enticing and enunciated than before. Her eyes shone and were brighter than the day Peter had left her. She looked so much better without him, Peter had decided.
“Peter” he hated how his name dripped, oh-so venomously from (Y/N)’s soft pink lips. The pair of adults stood opposite each other, it was like a stand off. Amara looked between the two, slightly confused whilst hugging her mum’s legs tightly.
“(Y/N)… H-how’ve you been?” The silver haired male stuttered, afraid of what his ex-fiancé would say. She tsked in response, looking down and shaking her head.
“Better without you”
The speedster looked down, regret filling his veins, pumping round his body and flowing back to his heart. He looked at the little girl who stood behind her mother’s legs with a shy smile. He felt stupid for not noticing it before, he had his suspicions but-
“Is she mine?” The question tumbled out of his lips before he could stop it. He watched as the anger engulfed her body, she shook with rage but he could see the hurt swirling in (Y/N)’s softened (eye colour) hues.
“What do you mean? - of course she’s yours- I never” (Y/N) paused, begging, willing herself not to cry. Her whole body shook as the fire of rage took over her. “I never cheated on you, Peter. It was you who left me, remember? And what does it matter to you?”
Peter frowned. “I want to be there for her, (Y/N)” he gestured to Amara. “ I want to be in her life”
That was it, the final straw. If (Y/N) was angry before, she sure was livid now. Amara could feel the rage radiating off of her mother’s body, the young mutant tugged at her mother’s sleeve, a silent plea for her to calm down but at this point Peter had gone too far.
“Amara go wait outside, baby” the young mother started, clenching her fists.
“But mama, I-” the little girl begun, looking up at her mother.
The two adults watched as the girl backed out of the room, most likely to go look for Jean or Kurt. (Y/N)’s gaze slowly crept back to meet Peter’s, a whirlwind of emotions taking over her. “Fuck you Peter”
His brows furrowed. “What?”
“Fuck. You” (Y/N) spat. “You don’t have the right, you don’t get to do this anymore. When will you get it through your thick head that, you. left. me. You made the conscious decision to leave me, knowing I was pregnant and now you want to come back? I don’t think so”
“I raised her, all by myself for three and a half years, and you think I’ll let you waltz back into my life, her life without a fuss? I’m not a push over anymore Peter, I’m not someone you can take advantage of.” (Y/N) let her eyes fall shut as she felt the tears well in her eyes. She clenched and unclenched her fists as her gaze fell on Peter’s. She wanted nothing more in that moment for Peter to fall at her feet and beg her to take him back, she wanted him to apologise, show his emotion, let her in. For once. She knew what she was doing was selfish but she was doing what was best for a her daughter. Or was it so that she didn’t get hurt? She started at the man she once loved expectantly, the tears threatening to spill over her eyelids.
“Don’t you think she’ll need a father figure” the fast-moving mutant defended quietly, looking at (Y/N) with sorrow-filled eyes.
She was crying now, god how he hated to see her cry. The tears streamed down her cheeks like a salty river. Her slightly hopeful expression faded, and Peter winced as a cold hearted glare graced her features. “You decided that you weren’t going to be a father when you left us ,Peter”
Peter watched as his only love called back his daughter to pack up her things. The small mutant grabbed her backpack and tucked away her toys, once she was done she gave Peter a sad smile and a soft kiss on the cheek before running out to meet Jean in the hallway. (Y/N) checked the room over to make sure her daughter hadn’t left anything. She turned to leave, before she changed her mind and glanced back at a crestfallen Peter Maximoff.
“I wish I could say you were different from him, Peter” (Y/N) whispered softly, a sad tone evident in her voice. “Your father I mean, when in truth… you’re exactly like him’’
And with that, she turned away and walked out of the room, out of Peter’s life… just as he had done to her.
Authtors note: HAHAHA SORRY TO THE PERSON WHO ASKED FOR A FLUFFY ENDING
It’s the last day of the @laurahale-appreciation week and today it’s the Dealer’s Choice, and because I can’t resist a chance to remind fandom of Neckz’N’Throats and how there totally should be more Neckz’N’Throats fic, have almost 2k of Neckz’N’Throats fic with matchmaking CEO Laura (and Sterek of course). Happy reading!
Laura loves her job.
She’s one of the youngest CEO’s in the country, possibly even the whole world. She runs one of the most successful werewolf magazine - and yes, some might call Neckz’N’Throats a skin mag, but it really is so much more than that and Laura has worked tirelessly to get it recognised as a respectable piece of journalism. Sure, the name still says it all - they show a lot of necks and throats, tastefully photographed to the maximum enjoyment of their mostly werewolf audience, but Laura takes pains to ensure that the pages of her magazine are not filled with blank faces and dead eyes. Her models are paid adequately, with all the insurances and securities necessary, and if there’s even the slightest hint that someone is not there just because they enjoy being photographed, Laura steps in and tries to figure out an arrangement that’s beneficial to both parties. It has worked well enough so far and has given her a reputation of being a fair and respectful employer that she’s proud of and strives to keep up.
Neckz’N’Throats did start out with just what it says on the tin: vulnerable necks and throats on display, meant to titillate and excite, but Laura has dared to branch out from that. She has introduced models from all kinds of backgrounds, aiming for diversity in all aspects, be it size, colour, or species. Then she started shooting couples - mated ones tend to be more popular, that special connection even shining through the glossy pages of a spread. Her most popular pair so far are Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore. Lydia started shooting for Neckz’N’Throats first, her lily white neck ticking every box on most hot blooded werewolves.
Not that Laura would know, being ace has both its advantages and disadvantages when heading a skin mag. On the one hand she still doesn’t quite get what “sexy” is even supposed to mean though she’s fared well enough in that respect by hiring models because of aesthetics and charisma - and employing actual hot blooded werewolves to advise her. On the other hand she is never ever tempted to leer at her employees creepily - and sadly enough that still seems to be a stand alone feature in her profession.
You know when you have unbelievably stupid moments and say something you totally didn’t mean to say and you think you fucked everything up? That was me when I first told the guy I liked I loved him. Yep, talk about a Freudian Slip. It was the Freudian Slip of the century, I think.
Peter Parker was probably a level 600 dork, and I loved him for it. He was the bestest friend in the whole wide world, but don’t tell Michelle or Ned I said that, I’m pretty sure they’d kill me. Anyways, he was absolutely wonderful. He came into my room through my window like he always did so I could patch him up and sent him back to his apartment. I liked to think that while he was saving Queens, I indirectly saved Queens by saving him, but that would be a complete exaggeration.
He came in pretty beat up one night, and I immediately had him sit so I could patch his wounds. After fixing up the ones on his abdomen and arms, I was patching up the gashes on his back. He didn’t say anything and neither did I. He knew I was furious with him tonight especially because this was definitely the worst I had seen him. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to say anything I’d end up regretting.
Out of desperation, I think, or to lighten up the mood, Peter began talking.
“I’m Batman!” Peter exclaimed in his best Batman-esque voice. I bit my lip before (attempting) to suturing a gash behind his shoulder.
“Shut up, Peter! I don’t want to leave a weird scar!” I scolded, a grin on my face. “I wear, one more word out of you…”
“Verbal threat! Threatening! I’m being threatened!” Peter mimicked Tony, making me put down my stuff and bite my lower lip, looking down, suppressing a laugh.
“Peter? Are you high?” I asked him, looking at him. “Is everything a joke to you?”
“Funny things are,” he mimicked again, making me chuckle.
“Peter!” I scolded, “Shut up so I could fix your shoulder,” I said, trying and failing to stop my giggling.
“Why someone weak? Because a weak man knows the value of strength; the value of power,” he mimicked Steve terribly, putting his hands on his hips as he turned to face me as I laughed. “That’s the laugh I’ve been waiting for!”
“You’re such a dork, I love you!” I chuckled.
“You… what?” He asked, his smile fading from his face.
I paused and blinked a few times. “I said you’re a dork.”
“Yeah, well, I know. What was the thing you said after?” He asked.
I shook my head feverishly. “I didn’t say anything. Nope,” I lied. “Now, turn around so I could fix your shoulder,” I demanded.
“You… You love me?”
“I recall saying no such thing,” my voice squeaked.
“You said you loved me.”
“No, I didn’t. I didn’t say that. I said… that… I love… juice,” I insisted, making him raise an eyebrow. “I swear!” I rose my right hand up and put my left hand over my heart. “I said I love juice. See, you must have missed the ‘ce’ sound at the end. Because of the bloodloss. Yes. That’s a valid explanation. Now, let me path you up so I could tell you about my love for juice.”
“No, I’m pretty sure you said you love me,” he crossed his arms over his chest, showing off his muscles.
I blushed furiously as I shook my head. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did,” he grinned.
“No, I didn’t! Wipe that grin off your face and let me fix your back now!” I insisted.
“You love me.”
“I don’t love you,” I grumbled.
“You said you loved me.”
“I’m saying you’re high, Parker. Now, let me fix your back please,” I said, my voice a bit softer as my heart raced. I had moved from desperately trying to deny the situation ever happened to realising I told my best friend I loved him and probably fucked everything. Peter eyed me, and I didn’t meet his gaze as I took a few deep breaths. “Please just let me fix your back, Peter,” I choked out.
Peter, though reluctantly, looked away from me and settled down. I wiped my tears on the sleeves of my blue jumper and began to stitch him up. His muscles tensed at the needle piercing his skin and I repeatedly apologised mentally as I continued until I finished. I finished off his stitches and put a bandage over it. Seeing as it was the last gash, I sighed and began packing up. “All done. You can put your suit back on now. Try not to move your arm so much until the stitches heal though, but I find it pointless to say that seeing at you don’t listen to me anyways, which I’m not mad about but…” I sighed exasperated and rubbed my hand against my face. “Forget it. Do you want some water or something to eat? I think I’ve got some leftover pizza.”
“No thank you,” he whispered.
“Okay,” I nodded, zipping up the first aid kit and shoving it into a box under my bed.
“Y/N?” Peter whispered after suiting up. He perched himself on my window and put his mask back on.
“Mhm?” I hummed in response, looking up at him.
“I love you too,” he told me before abruptly leaving. I blinked in shock before walking out the window, seeing him swing building to building, on his way home.
“Son of a-”
I walked into Midtown that morning with a mission. After picking up my text books I needed for class, I hunted down Peter Parker, who, to my complete lack of surprise, was talking to Ned as the latter took textbooks in and and out of his locker.
“Peter Benjamin Parker!” I yelled, pushing the hero against the locker.
“Hi Y/N,” Peter greeted, his voice a higher pitched.
“Hi… Y/N… Am I missing something?” Ned asked.
I looked at the boy and smiled at him. “Hey, Ned. I hope you’re having a fantastic morning so far,” I greeted my friend before looking back at Peter. “You cannot just do that!” I slapped his shoulder.
“Ow!” Peter complained, making me roll my eyes.
“Oh, I didn’t even hit you that hard, stop complaining.”
“I definitely missed something,” I heard Ned deduce.
“How dare you tell me you love me and then dismiss it like it’s no big deal! You just say it and you just jump out my window and you think that’s okay?!” I exclaimed.
“You what?!” Ned exclaimed, making me look at him.
“Right?! It’s- How- I cannot even begin how that’s all sorts of wrong!” I yelled. “He tells me ‘I love you too’ and then just jumps out my window and goes home like it’s not a big deal!”
“Too?!” Ned exclaimed.
Peter looked around and put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, guys, let’s use our inside voices-”
“Inside voices?!” I pressed him further into the locker. “No! I will not use my inside voice! I will yell if I wanna! You said you loved me back and hopped out my window!”
“You told me you loved me and then called me crazy!” Peter defended. “And then said you loved juice!”
“You what?!” Ned looked at me. I looked at him.
“Ned,” I warned, smiling at him a bit, telling him it was a bit of an inappropriate time.
“Right. Sorry,” he apologised, zipping his lips and throwing the key.
“Thank you,” I nodded at my friend before looking at Peter. “You wouldn’t let me fix your back!”
“And that’s an appropriate response?!”
“It’s- It was a Freudian Slip, shut up!”
“But did you mean it?”
“Of course I did, you jerk! And then you just casually just say it back and I don’t know if you’re kidding or not and-” Peter surprises me by switching our positions so that I was against the locker. “What are you-” And then he kissed me, cupping my face with his hands and after a moment of confusion, I melt into the kiss and kiss him back.
He pulled away first, staring into my eyes. “In case you haven’t gotten it, I meant it too.”
I searched his eyes skeptically before my face broke out into a grin. “Oh.”
“Oh?!” Ned exclaimed. “Girl, he just kissed you and you say ‘oh’?!” I blush furiously at his outburst and look down, biting my lip.
“Ned, man, come on-” Peter began, and I could swear that I could hear the smile in his voice.
“No! You have been talking about her nonstop whenever she’s not around for two years! And she’s been doing the same! And all all she’s got to say is ‘oh’?!” Ned complained. The bell rang then and there. “I’ll see you two later then,” he sighed, walking away. I looked at him apologetically before looking at Peter, who met my gaze and we both laughed.
“He’s right though. Oh is a bit…” Peter began to tease.
I rolled my eyes, shoving his chest playfully. “You’re such a dork.”
You drag in a deep lungful of the cool night air as you try focusing on steadying your racing heart, the hand you have wrapped around your gun shaking. It was unnervingly quiet in the forest around you and it was only making your nerves worse and you find yourself wondering as you move further into the trees why you’d stupidly decided to hunt down a werewolf on the full moon, alone.
It just happened to be the closest you’d managed to get to Peter in the last couple of months however and you were damned if you were missing out on the opportunity. He was too good and covering his tracks, too good at making sure he was consistently two or more steps ahead of you. It was more than maddening, almost like trying to track a ghost, but tonight was the night you were going to get your retribution.
It was no secret that werewolves were at their most unstable during a full moon, their primal instincts winning out over their humanity; but you knew that those that managed to stay in control of themselves used so much energy doing so that they became just a little more vulnerable than normal, more likely to make a mistake. You wouldn’t get another chance like this one anytime soon.
You took another breath, watching the way it misted out in front you, the sound of leaves crunching under your boots echoing in your ears. You flicked off the safety on your gun as you neared what was left of the Hale mansion, the bullets loaded into the chamber slicked with wolfsbane. You’d been taught by your brother that it was the most effective way of slowing them down without getting close enough to risk getting your throat ripped out, and if left for long enough it might even kill them. You didn’t want to kill Peter right away though, you wanted him to suffer a little first, the same way your brother had when he’d torn open his throat.
When the burnt remnants of the old house came into view you slowed to a stop, glancing around the moonlit clearing, giving no indication that there had been anyone there in a very long time. You cocked your head to the side slightly, listening for any noise, the breath catching in your throat as something crunched from behind you. Trapping your bottom lip between your teeth you spun back, seeing nothing but trees and the shadows that fell from them. When you turned back around you were met with a brilliant set of glowing cerulean eyes, your heart beginning to thump madly inside of your chest, threatening to come bursting through your ribcage at any second.
Stumbling back you went to raise your weapon but Peter had it out of your hands in a matter of seconds, throwing it at least fifty feet from where you were standing. His hands were clenched into fists and his whole upper body was tight, muscles coiled and tense where they bulged against the fabric of his t-shirt. Before you could think about moving he was next to you, cupping your throat with one of his hands while he pressed your body back against his. You gulped harshly around the lump at the back of your throat as you felt him scrape his claws along your jaw, the heat of his breath hitting your exposed flesh.
Remember when the 1776 cast met President Nixon at the White House?
K Edwards: Any idea what Nixon was saying? Everybody is laughing.
Peter Hunt (the director): Sorry, I don’t remember but clearly he cracked a joke. He had notes written on a 3x5 card in his breast pocket. I remember he spoke of Abigail hanging out the wash in the East Room where we were performing. He also mistakenly gave me credit for writing 1776 and did not take kindly to the fact that later in the evening I attempted to tell him he was mistaken.
What if, during a rogue alpha attack, Stiles was injured and lost his sight. He becomes really depressed, and nobody but Peter seems to know how to help him. after Stiles transitions with Peter's help, Stiles uses his magic to help Peter take revenge on Kate. sort of like murder husbands ig? thanks, your writing is fantastic!
Oooo, angsty, angsty, angsty. And murder husbands! You know
me so well already, haha. Thanks for the prompt! I hope I did it justice!
Footsteps echoed like ripples in his mind’s eyes, tinted red
for the Alpha they represented. His magic tingled up his spine as they neared
but he didn’t fear.
“Stiles,” Peter purred, stepping closer and wrapping his
arms around Stiles’ middle. He leaned back into the Alpha’s arms, humming
“A little birdy told me where we might be able to go jaguar
hunting,” Peter said, warm breath caressing the bare skin of Stiles’ neck.
“Oh?’ Stiles asked, tilting his head just a bit more, baring
the vulnerable flesh to the dangerous creature wrapped around him. “Well I
guess it’d be rude if we didn’t stop by for a visit.”
Peter chuckled darkly. “My thoughts exactly, dearest.”
Stiles grinned, the scar across his face itching at the
mention of the woman, their prey.