the boy who runs with wolves

Kol thrived on a lot of things, chaos, death, violence. But he also had a love for fear and the terror running through the little human before him right now was all but a meal in its own right. Delectable. 

“Hmm, I suspected you were going to say something like that.” Kol said lightly, flexing his grip around the other’s throat. Not enough to cut of his air, no no, but enough to make him sweat more than little. And definitely enough to make Stiles aware that Kol could.

“Because you see, I only watch to have a little with the silly little human snooping around the Bayou at night and instead he ran away from me, called me nasty names and hit me with a baseball bat.” Kol pouted, as though genuinely hurt, “If that any kind of polite way for a person to behave?“ he asked, looking at Stiles as the pout gave way to his signature smirk instead.

If the boy were to say anything but ‘no it isn’t Mr. Mikaelson’ Kol may have to bash him against the tree again.  

“Hmm, you’re funny. Luckily for you I happen to like funny.” he told Stiles lightly, he could feel the other’s pounding pulse against his hand, honestly it was becoming rather tempting, who’d ever know? “I’ve never tasted cheetos and milk before, maybe I’ll like it?” he bent closer still and stretched his tongue out, running it across Stiles’ neck, he really wanted him terrified, it was more fun that way. 

Was that the hint of claw up against his throat? Ah, memories, and not good ones at that. He swallowed nervously and felt his adam’s apple bob against the dude’s palm. 

“Listen, dude, Kol was it? In my defence, you were acting creepy.” He licked his lips and titled his head back a little more as though that was going to ease the grip the other had on his throat. “I didn’t mean to hit you with my bat, I already said I was sorry, man.” 

Ahhhh, fuck. “I lied, no cheetos but the off brand version. Totally doesn’t mix well with milk, you’ll give yourself a stomach ache, learn from my mistakes, I’m just looking out for you--- oh gross, dude, no, bad touch, bad touch,” he grimaced at feel of his tongue against his neck and he tried to arch away from him some more, even as his heart pounded. “Oh that’s just-- that’s not right, that really ain’t right. I said sorry, what else do you want?”

halexstorm‌:

There was a moment when Cora thought Stiles might give up there and then and disappear from the table as quickly as he’d arrived. She couldn’t help but find amusement in Braeden’s words and shook her head softly whilst giving a small chuckle. 

“Relax….she won’t use the knife…not in public…not here.”

Her brow cocked at the other female as if to say, ‘you wouldn’t would you?’–purposely just drawing out the situation a little while longer. After all, Stiles had agreed to push Derek to see how far he could go without her brother tearing him a new one. So surely Stiles would see what was happening now, right?

“So I have balls but not a penis?”

She shot a look between the both of them, wondering how the hell it was suddenly on her.

“I could be offended…..”

She swallowed thickly, faking a pissed off expression but whilst she could continue this forever and a day with most people who she didn’t know or perhaps didn’t like, Cora did let a smirk slip with these two. 

“I know what you meant, Stilinski….I was just yanking your chain. And Brae…that is his surname…it’s his first name that is somewhat a secret….comes after McCall alphabetically apparently….I don’t have a type either…and he’s a friend…that’s all.”

Just then Cora felt her phone buzz as she received a text. She didn’t look at it straight away, instead opting to reply to Stiles. 

“What was your question?”

Casually she reached down into her inside pocket for her cell phone and took it out. It was only as she read the text from Derek, her expression fell to a more sombre and serious one. 

@braehavemercy

Catching the mock uncertainty in the wolf’s gaze, Braeden shrugged. Her disapproval of her best friend’s assurances was just as insincere. Knife still jabbed into the table, she pulled Stiles’ chair that much closer to her, muttering low in her throat, “Now, now, Cora. Let’s not go making any promises I have no intention of keeping,” without freeing him from her piercing glare.

When Braeden released the bottom of his chair Stiles launched himself backward, crotch shielded by his hands, looking put out at being ganged up on. Her smirk was pitiless, as sharp as her gaze. He had no one but himself to blame for inviting himself to their table. Even Derek knew better than to get too close when she and Cora really got going. The pair of them wicked on a good day, once they really got going… threatening castration was tame by comparison. Especially since she was joking. Mostly.

Even though she’d discarded the knife onto the table and had relaxed into her chair, knees spread, comfortably slouched, Braeden’s attention on Stiles was still predative when she offered, “I could give you the matched set, Cor.” She gave him a critical once over, muttering, “You’d probably put them to better use anyway.” When her eyes met with his again amusement tugged at the corners of her mouth. She swallowed back a laugh. Braeden was half tempted to fake a lunge for him, just to see how he’d react. This was fun. 

Her simper faded at the sound of his last name. The brutish mischief in her gaze turned thoughtful as she inspected his face more closely. While she was impressed enough that Cora had called him her friend, it wasn’t the reason she was scrutinizing him so closely. 

“Stilinski,” repeated Braeden, the puzzle pieces falling into place. “You’re the Sheriff’s kid.” She remembered him, always jittery and never able to hold still for more than a minute at a time. Before she’d let their legacy fade into obscurity, her parents had been part of New Orleans local law enforcement, too. Her dad had always spoken fondly of Lieutenant Stilinski. Her mom, too. 

Distracted by Cora moving out of the corner of her eye, Braeden moved her gaze from Stiles onto the wolf across from her. Her brows furrowed as she watched her best friend’s expression darken into something grim. Unease gripping her heart and pulling it toward her stomach, Braeden leaned forward to quietly ask, “What’s up, Cor?”

@bicuriousbilinski​

An explosive little, “Ha!” left him at Cora’s words and he eyed her. “The fact that you had the clarify the knife statement doesn’t make me any more comforted... And the fact that she,” he pointed at the other woman, but kept his arm close (aha, she was not grabbing him again, please and thank you) “then just completely contradicts you... hummm! You, Stabby McStabbyson, no stabbing Stiles. This is a Stiles Stab-Free Zone. All zones are Stiles Stab-Free, sorry sorry, too bad.” 

Cora wouldn’t let her stab him, they were just pushing his buttons nicely, that was all (he was not taking his eyes off her for a moment).

“Balls, no penis,” he confirmed, both hands now back over his junk as he narrowed his eyes at Braeden, “and she doesn’t need mine either. It gets plenty of use, I’ll have you know. At least twice a day. Three if I’m feeling fancy.” 

He was just starting to relax a little, though he kept half an eye on Twitchy and both hands over his dick, meeting Braeden’s eyes as she mulled over his last name, lifting a single shoulder up in a shrug when she identified him as the Sheriff’s Kid, his life long moniker. Part of him wanted to goad her into trying something, if only so he could set his dad on her, but then he remembered he was no longer a kid playing who’s dad could beat whose dad up. (She’d probably kick his ass to be fair and he’d rather not spend six to eight weeks helping his dad recover all because he had a mouth on him.)

“I just wanted to ask about some dude that nearly had me pissing my pants, but I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough today in front of your scary fr--” cutting himself off when the other asked if Cora was okay, he stopped bouncing his knee and actually looked over to the werewolf himself, brows instantly furrowing in concern. “Hey,” leaning forward, he put his hand on her knee without thought, trying to catch her eyes, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost. You okay?” 

“Ahh, but that was only after you ran away from me like a mad-thing when I so graciously greeted you.” he said lightly, “All I’m looking for is polite conversation here and, believe me when I say, I could be looking for much worse.” And he had in the past. He chuckled lightly, “Normal human’s can’t sense what’s going on here Darling, you wouldn’t come snooping unless you were given a little hint.”  

He chuckled again when the human tried to play the big man, “Oh aren’t you sweet, I could gobble you up.” Barely even a snack but pleasant enough to look at, so it wouldn’t be a total loss. Kol was very opened minded after all. It was only moments after that when a baseball bat smacked into his face.

He was more surprised the human had actually been stupid enough to hit him rather than anything else. It hasn’t hurt, akin to a hand patting him on the face rather than anything else, but he watched with a raised eyebrow as the human stumbled away and found the fun was wearing thin. “Oh Darling, you really shouldn’t have done that.” he smirk remained in place but he shot forward with his speed once more, grabbed the human by the neck and pinned him to the nearest tree, feet dangling off the ground, “I, Little Human, and one of thr world’s first vampire’s, royalty of a sort. I’ve had beings killed for looking at me the wrong way and you strike me?” he pouted and lowered Stiles to the ground, not realising his neck but instead leaning forward and sniffing the pulse point, “I really should kill you on principle alone, or have a little snack… you smell delicious.” he said, running his nose lightly along the skin, just to make the boy squirm.  

You know that feeling that you get? That instant sinking of your stomach, the swoop it does as it drops to your toes when you’ve made a very very big mistake?

Yeah, that’s what Stiles was feeling roughly 0.2 seconds after his bat made contact with the dude’s skull. The crack may as well have been the sound his stomach made as he tried to burrow to the earth’s core.

“Look man, I’m sorry, but you’re totally to bla--” his stomach made an immediate arrival from the floor to his throat as he was knocked back against a tree in what felt like a blink of an eye. “--Totally not at fault,” he corrected smoothly, scrambling up to his tiptoes so he wasn’t just dangling from his grip. His hands came up to wrap around the one he had about his neck, not that it made much difference.

Oh for fuck’s sake. His boxers had a hole in them. He didn’t wanna be murdered in holy boxers, c’mon.

Derek was getting soft in his old age. It wasn’t a fact he’d ever be willing to admit out loud- but in years gone by, a gnat like Stiles wasn’t something he’d tolerate. Especially not here, or not. No one had ever joined him on his ritual run, not even Cora. This was the alpha’s ‘me time’, also something he’d never be caught dead admitting out loud… and yet here they were.

The gnat running beside him and the wolf tolerating him. He rolled his eyes at Stiles’ attempt at a hug, followed by his attempt at jealousy. Derek wasn’t much of a cuddler, obviously. Scott on the other hand? The two were weird, and yeah it was definitely something his Beta would chase after. 

“How did I ever get so lucky.” He growled, picking up their pace just a fraction. As he was saying… in the years gone by, he’d have squashed the gnat like a… well, gnat.  Whatever. Casting a sideeyed glance at the human, he wondered idly what he meant. The alpha liked to keep things close to the chest on most days but moreso whenever the Supernatural world popped up. There were too many secrets he was in charge of.

“What do you mean, what’s going on?” Besides the random siezmic tremors that struck Nola the other day, things had been pretty steady. Steadily growing worse, steadily growing more terrifying but steady nonetheless. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Stiles, the punk wouldn’t be running next to him if he didn’t. The problem was, there was a lot Derek didn’t know just yet- and the few things he did, weren’t entirely his secrets to share.

Letting out a disgruntled noise when Derek picked up the pace, he didn’t outwardly say anything; he was trying to not be too much of a nuisance in fear that whatever little tranquil bubble Stiles had managed to creep into popped, and he’d end up eating dirt as Derek sped off without him. He could feel his tee sticking to his back, and his hair curling at the nape of his neck from sweat, but this? This was alright. He hadn’t like suicide runs at high school, or lacrosse and cross country training, but that was because everyone there was in competition with each other of some of those kids were absolute beasts. 

Heh. Some, like Scott, literally were. 

“I dunno,” Stiles quipped, briefly grinning up at him, “but aren’tcha glad you did? I’m an absolute joy. A treasure, some would say. A gift.” He snickered to himself, amused even as he carried on before Derek could scowl. “You’d miss me if I was gone. The sooner you admit that, the sooner you’ll be ready for a Stilinski Hug, I’m just sayin’, bro.”

His gums were starting to hurt. He wiggled his jaw around before biting down a couple of times, both wincing and confused at the ache in his teeth. Was this normal? This was totally normal, right? He wiggled his jaw again. 

halexstorm‌:

A casual lopsided smirk started to emerge on Cora’s face as her visual shifted to outside the building and the view that met her. Salvatore’s beautiful Camaro was situated further down the street.

“Brae, you sly dog you….”

Amusement flickered in her dark hues before she rolled her eyes playfully and let out a chuckle.

“A steak out, really?…c’mon…now that is cheesy….but yeah…I’m definitely down for a pub crawl.”—seeing how she couldn’t get drunk, may as well get a fight or two out of it.

She was just about to lean forward with her elbows on the table and suggest they make a move soon, when Stiles was suddenly there and seemingly making himself comfortable in the spare seat. For a moment she raised a slender brow and just shot him the usual unimpressed look. Yet the youngest Hale had got used to Stiles’ ways lately and didn’t care to admit she quite liked him.

“Take a seat, Stiles why don’t ya…..”

Her words dripped with sarcasm, but not in any nasty context at all, in fact, she was slightly amused, especially when she caught Braeden’s expression.

Oh this looks like fun. 

“How’s what hanging?”

She would never get used to that phrase. Luckily now though she was just playing around with him and knew what it meant. 

“Braeden…this is Stiles. He ain’t backwards at coming forwards…and Stiles…this is Braeden–another one not to upset too much if you know what’s good for you.”

Seconds –milliseconds– away from grabbing the kid by his wrist and twisting until he was kneeling on the ground beside the table, Cora’s greeting stopped her from an aggravated assault charge. The familiarity in her tone gave her pause, it was her amusement that made Braeden relax back in her seat. While she didn’t move her piercing glare from the gangly man at their table, the sharp edge to her stare was more assessing than threatening. 

Clearly Cora liked the kid enough to welcome him to the table instead of telling him to fuck off. Question of questions was why.

When the wolf asked Stiles how what was hanging, Braeden chimed in with a flat, “I think he’s implying you have a penis, Cor.” Hand none too discretely grabbing the steak knife by the handle, her unwavering leer kept his gaze captive to hers. “You implying my girl has a penis?” 

She angled her chair, leaned forward to grab the bottom of his seat, and dragged him closer to her with a loud scrape on the polished hardwood floor that drew a few gazes. Steak knife jabbed point first into the table, Braeden’s voice was a low, menacing purr when she suggested, “I could give her yours, if you’re so curious.”

Holding his gaze for several heartbeats, Braeden allowed a slow, rapacious smirk to unravel over her lips. She looked exhaled a laugh and eased back into her seat before dropping the knife onto the table. Braeden peered over at Cora and her smirk widened, an eyebrow rose as she waited for her best friend’s reaction. 

An introduction was haphazardly made and Braeden’s gaze was drawn back onto Stiles. Brows furrowed as she inspected him closely. “Stiles,” repeated Braeden, testing the name, searching her mind for that niggling something that suggested that she’d heard it before. “What’s your last name, Stiles? And how do you two know each other?”

She shifted her attention onto Cora then, observing, “Manic energy isn’t your usual type.” Gaze sliding onto Stiles again, her glare turned stony. She kept the full weight of it on Stiles as she continued to speak to Cora. “Neither is scrawny.”

@bicuriousbilinski

He was halfway through downing his stolen glass of water when the pair of them decided to tag team him; one asking what he meant and the other just straight up dropping the penis into casual conversation. Snorting, he nearly choked. “Am I impl--no, god, no, how d’you even get-- Cora, why is she holding a knife at --ohmygod.” The words tumbled over themselves on an exhale when she grabbed his chair and yanked him forwards, closer to both her and the steak knife in her hands. 

Yep, nOPE.

“It means ‘how’re you’, holy god, what is wrong with you, we’re in public!” In deference to being in public, his voice was a low, furious -- lowkey terrified, shh -- whisper. “And she doesn’t need my balls, thank you very much,” he cupped himself with both hands before she got any big ideas, “she’s got big enough ones of her own, are you kidding me with this right now?”

As soon as Braeden let go of his chair, it was with a wounded look at Cora that he immediately pushed himself away from the pair of them, though still technically at their table. He was pretty sure Braeden was laughing at him, but given how she still had a knife -- sure, it was stuck in the table right now but that didn’t mean shit -- he wasn’t about to call her out on it. 

“Remind me to never attempt pleasantries around either of you.” He gave them the stink eye and then sniffed. “What’s your last name?” He might’ve pushed his chair back a little bit more, so she couldn’t grab him as easily and he would’ve gone for the double whammy of ‘and how do you know Cora’ but she’d slid straight on into insults. 

His mouth opened, offended. “I’m not scrawny! I’m svelte, thank you very much. Underneath all this plaid I’m actually as--” he took her in and quickly changed his mind, continuing as though there’d been no pause, “--no where near as buff as you, but I’m getting there!”

He’d never felt more like a meme in all his life. I came out for a good time and I’m feeling so attacked right now.

“Your friend is mean,” he said, focusing on Cora, but keeping one eye out in case the other decided to move quickly; why were all the beautiful people so freaking dangerous? “I only came over to ask a question and I’ve had my manhood threatened unjustly.” 

“You’re a rather rude little human, didn’t your parents teach you any manners?” Or survival instinct for that matter.

Since the human didn’t react to his last name he was ignorant of the vampire community, so Kol would guess he had another ‘in’ to them… Not a Hunter, he was far too clumsy (and frightened) for that, not a vampire, obviously. Yet here he was snooping at the hub of the chaos of the city; which meant…

“So which little wolf told the human about the Bayou hmm?” he asked with a smirk, “And you could whack me with your bat all evening Little Darling, it’d likely only enjoy it.” he promised with a wink.

With a chuckle he languidly slip from the jeep and moved with his supernatural speed to be behind the other so he could sling an arm around the boy’s shoulders, “I don’t need a lift, just my curiosity settled, so be a friend and tell Uncle Kol what you were doing out here all alone.” he finished with a little pout.  

“I’m rude?” Stiles burst out with, feeling offended. “You’re the one who’s just invited themselves into my jeep, not the other way around, buddy.” Narrowing his eyes at him, he didn’t blink when wolves were brought up, how did he-- Mikaelson, the last name seemed familiar because duh. “Who says I need anybody to tell me about the Bayou,” he counted with, lifting his chin, jaw settling into a stubborn set, “hm?” 

Shifting his grip on his bat as the other slowly slunk out of his jeep, a muttered a low, “Yeah, that’s right, out you get,” because apparently he was billy big balls and had zero self-preservation skills. Cora would be thrilled at the confirmation. She might even do a jig on his grave. 

From one moment to the next, all Stiles remembers is yelling and something solid, like a head, hitting his bat; it took a couple of horrified seconds to realise he’d just beaned the dude and once he had, he yelped and jumped backwards, one hand outstretched towards him and the other with a death-like hold on his only weapon. “That was a mistake!” Yeah, he got one lucky shot in -- that he didn’t remember, cool skills bro -- but that didn’t mean he could go toe to toe with him. And granted he’d been a creepy, but he hadn’t been violent (yet?) and honestly he’d like to keep it that. “I just reacted, don’t creep up on people, jesus christ, dude.”

“Okay, so lunch here ain’t so bad…I’ll give you that one this time.”

Cora shot Braeden a smirk and finished what was on her plate. It was a light lunch and Cora knew herself well enough to know she would no doubt end up at Derek’s later, probably claiming she was hungry and not eaten for a while. The Cafe Du Monde wasn’t her usual hangout, not for food anyway, but the company was good enough and she really wasn’t that fussy when it came to places where she would spend time. 

“You do realise I haven’t forgotten about taking Salvatore’s car for a test drive, right?”

Braeden had definitely hit the right buttons when it came this kind of subject and with her mentioning it recently, the youngest Hale had quietly been looking forward to it ever since. Some though–in fact most, would probably say it was a bad idea, but that was one of the things Cora liked about Braeden–she took risks and shared that spark which was missing with quite a few around NOLA.

“On another note…sometimes I really do need to kick some damn ass too.”

She raised her brow in the hunter’s direction and gave a nonchalant shrug. Abiding by the treaty and not harming any innocents, didn’t mean the fire in Cora’s gut had disappeared, it was always there and she really did like to get herself involved in the thick of things sometimes.

“A fight or two is good for the soul.”

Smirking at Braeden, she let out a sigh.

“So what you got planned for the rest of the day?”

Plus it was easy on the eyes. Her job –the one that didn’t come with a badge– ensured Braeden’s passport had seen plenty of use. One of her favorite things about traveling internationally was the diversity of architecture. With all she’d seen, there were still some places in New Orleans that made her ogle the rafters like a pilgrim at the Vatican. She couldn’t name a better way to spend her chill day than with her best friend, eating great food, in a place that looked so goddamn timeless.

It didn’t matter that neither of them exactly fit in here. A leather jacket wearing, biker chick scarred to shit, and an equally darkly dressed tough girl with nothing resting about her bitch face, it didn’t take much to guess why the tables surrounding theirs were a fucking ghost town. Dressed in black from head to toe, someone would think that they coordinated their outfits. With how well they knew each other, and how well they got along, they may as well have. 

Slicing her steak knife through the last portion of meat, Braeden peered up from her food to cock an eyebrow at Cora. “The fuck you think we’re doin’ out here, Cor?” she prodded before stuffing the red centered meat into her mouth. With a gesture toward the road outside the restaurant, she motioned the wolf’s gaze down the street to a beautiful and unsupervised 1969 Camaro convertible. 

“If we want to borrow that beauty without Damon getting in the way we’re gonna have to learn his routine.” Stabbing her fork’s tongs into the last peace of bloody meat, Braeden lifted it slightly and didn’t give the smirk fighting for her lips so much as an inch. “We’re on a steak out.”

At Cora’s mention of kicking ass, Braeden swallowed her food, set down her utensils, and wiped her mouth clean on the cloth napkin. When the napkin joined the silverware on the plate, reached for her glass of scotch, muttering, “Sorry about pulling you away from Lafayette the other night. You know I’m always down for a fight, Cor, but that was a bad spot to let one go down.” Shooting back a sip of that delicious burning liquid, when she set her glass back onto the table it was with the reassurance, “I’ll make it up to you, alright? Plenty of tourists coming through town this time of year, getting drunk and stupid. If you want a fight or two we’ll make a pub crawl out of it. Just like old times, yeah?”

Her grin was meant only for Cora, could only exist in her company. So when a lanky body plopped down in one of the two available chairs at their table, it disappeared in an instant. Replaced by an appraising glower and a curious up and down. “You lost?”

Derek he’d get the Eyebrows, Scott would just kill him with puppy dog eyes and he felt like Lydia would slap him upside down the back of his head and yanno, he wasn’t in the mood to get assulted, even by the queen bee of the town. He hadn’t even done anything wrong! What was a bit of midnight detective work in the grand scheme of things? 

Swinging into the place, and pointing over to where Cora and whoever else she was with before someone tried to offer him either a table or the door, the dumped himself unceremoniously into a seat at their table, gatecrashing their conversation.