#parrish imagines

You roll your eyes. “I’ve been spending too much time with Stefan, that’s my fault. Can you at least explain why your bottle of bourbon has fallen out of favor and been hurled across the room?”

Damon follows your line of vision to note the shards of glass clustered on the floor, fallout from the bottle’s impact with the wall. “Ah, that. Well, none of us are perfect, and I happen to be blessed with what some people might call anger issues, so the bottle had to go.”

Under your reproachful gaze, he sighs and throws up his hands. “Fine, I’ll fix it.”

You wait until he pulls himself, slothlike, from the couch and stumbles over to the glass shards. Damon picks each dagger-sharp piece up like it’s the hardest of burdens to bear, tossing them in a nearby receptacle.

“There? Do I get an award for best brother of the year?”

You laugh. “Stop killing people every other day, and we can talk about that.”

Damon grumbles. “Your standards are too high.”

You cross the room to grab a coat and pull on some shoes. “Yeah, yeah. See you later.”

You reach for the doorknob, but Damon appears out of nowhere, blocking your avenue of escape thanks to his unnatural speed.

“Hold on a minute. Where are you going?” He asks, and you give him a look.

“Out. I was talking to Liz Forbes and she says she’s got a new deputy sheriff who moved here from Beacon Hills, California. I was thinking about taking a trip down to meet the guy.”

Damon frowns, tapping a finger against his replacement bottle of bourbon. “Beacon Hills. Where have I heard that name before?”

You let him suffer in silence for a few moments, then give him the answer. “It’s got a reputation for being just about as supernatural-heavy as Mystic Falls. From what I hear, they’ve got enough werewolf packs fighting over the same turf to give Klaus Mikaelson a holiday.”

Damon nods slowly, although the frown remains. “Why the hell would someone move here from Beacon Hills? That’s a long flight just for a new job.”

You tilt your head towards the door. “That’s why I’m going to check him out. Could be nothing, Liz said he seemed like a nice guy on the phone, but I figure a little advance warning couldn’t hurt. Worst case scenario, he’s a hunter fresh from a werewolf killing frenzy who decided to try his luck here. Best case, he’s just some guy who got sick of rent prices.”

Damon shrugs, moving to the side so you can reach the door again. “Best of luck in figuring him out. Want me to tag along?”

You toss him a grin over your shoulder as you unlock the door. “I planned on talking to a person, not a dead man, but thanks for the offer.”

Damon chuckles as you leave. “Any time!”

The trip over to the sheriff’s office is quick, and soon enough you’re heading inside. Sheriff Forbes appears to have been waiting for you, as she walks over to you with a smile.

“Y/N, it’s good to see you. Thanks for stopping by.”

You nod. “Yeah, no problem. I appreciate you telling me about this.”

She lifts a shoulder. “He seems like a nice guy, but in a town like this, I feel like it wouldn’t hurt to double-check. He’s in my office filling out the last of the paperwork, but he should be out in a moment or so.”

Like clockwork, the door to Liz’s office opens and a young man steps out. He appears to be in his early twenties, with close-cropped dark hair and bright green eyes. He nods at Liz, then studies you a little closer. He’s one of the cuter potential hunters you’ve seen, but you’ve long since learned that appearances can be deceiving.

Liz clears her throat. “Thanks for finishing those, it’s always good to have a record for these kinds of things. Y/N, this is Jordan Parrish, our new deputy sheriff.”

Jordan extends a hand to you, and a moment later, you shake it. “It’s nice to meet you, Jordan. I’m Y/N, Y/N Salvatore.”

Jordan cocks his head curiously to the side. “Salvatore, huh? I swear I’ve heard that name before.”

You hope your smile doesn’t look too much like a grimace. “Mystic Falls is rich with genealogical history. The Salvatores were one of the oldest families here, you might have seen the name on a few buildings around town.”

Jordan nods slowly. “That must be it. Well, if you’re a friend of the sheriff’s, I’d like to be a friend of yours.”

Your smile loses its edge. “I think I’d like that as well.”

A phone rings from Liz’s office, and she turns towards it. “Excuse me a moment while I answer that, will you? It’ll be just a second.”

The two of you nod, and Liz hurries to pick up the phone. The second the door to the office closes behind her, though, Jordan looks at you with a new sort of determination.

“Excuse my candor, Y/N, but I’ve barely been here a couple of hours and I’m already noticing things about this town that don’t seem quite right. You seem nice enough, and I wouldn’t mind having allies in uncertain territory. Do you know anything about Mystic Falls that you think I should know as well?”

Jordan’s gaze is deep, and seems to see straight through you. He must know about the vampires; certainly their existence, if not the fact that you’re one too. No one asks questions like that if they don’t know. However, you’re hesitant to reveal yourself until you absolutely have to do so.

You swallow hard. “I don’t think so. I mean, people can be secretive, but I think that just comes with familial pride. Have you heard anything to make you think otherwise?”

Jordan doesn’t answer at first, and when he does, his words are stilted, as if he’s carefully choosing what to say. “I’ve heard a few rumors. Can I count on you to tell me if I hear anything else?”

You nod, but you’re saved from a response by Liz returning from her office. You take this as your excuse to leave, and Liz walks out with you. You swear that Jordan’s eyes don’t leave you until you’re gone from the room, and even then, he could be staring at you through the very walls.

Liz speaks to you under her breath. Apparently, she must be picking up on your need for secrecy, or perhaps Jordan asked her the same sorts of strange questions.

“So, what did you think? Is he a vampire?”

You shake your head cautiously. “I don’t think so, but I don’t think he’s human. Something about his heartbeat was a little off. The beats were stronger than a human’s typically are. He’s not a vampire, but he’s something. I don’t know what yet.”

Liz sucks in a breath. “Shoot, I was worried about that. Should I find excuses to keep him out of the office for a while?”

You consider this. “I don’t think so. Besides, if he isn’t working, he’ll be looking into things, and I’m afraid to leave him searching for too long. I think all we can do is wait and see how things turn out. I’ll talk to Caroline and the others, make sure they stay on guard.”

Liz nods. “I’ll tell you if I see anything strange.”

You do your best for a reassuring smile. “Thanks, Sheriff. We don’t know that he’s a threat just yet, but it can’t hurt to be ready for anything.”

Despite your attempts to relieve Liz’s stress, you can’t seem to shake your own. On the way back to the Salvatore home, you get a call from another friend. This time, it’s Bonnie, and she sounds nervous. You change your course, and end up meeting her in the woods near the old Salvatore crypt. Not the best choice of scenery, given your already rampaging nerves, but at least it’s quiet.

Bonnie looks relieved when she sees you approach. “Thanks for meeting me. I didn’t know who else to call.”

You nod. “Yeah, anytime. What’s going on?”

Bonnie glances around to make sure there aren’t any errant hikers who could possibly overhear, then turns back to you. “I had this dream last night. It was one of those dreams when you can’t tell if you’re awake or asleep because everything feels so real it’s crazy. I can’t remember a whole lot from it, but I do remember that someone was coming, someone powerful. Someone who was so connected to death that they might be forged from hell themselves.”

You let out a slow breath. “That’s not the best thing I’ve heard all morning.”

Bonnie shakes her head. “I did a spell to try and see if there was anyone new in town, and I picked up on something. I think they’re here now, but the second I tried to look closer, something found me and abruptly broke the connection.”

Your brow furrows. “I didn’t think someone could end your spell without your approval.”

Bonnie spreads her hands. “They can’t. Whatever this thing is, they’re far more powerful than the typical vampire. The last thing I got from the spell is that this newcomer was near the sheriff’s station, and Damon said that you were stopping by this morning.”

Your eyes widen. “Yeah, because there’s some guy who moved here from Beacon Hills. Do you think the threat could be the new deputy sheriff?”

Bonnie bites her lip, thinking. “It’s the only option that makes sense. I think I want to try the spell again, see if I can draw him here. You’ve seen him face to face, so do you mind stepping in to help me locate him?”

You nod, holding out your palm face-up. “Absolutely. Let’s figure this out.”

Bonnie takes your hand, closing her eyes and starting to chant under her breath. The ground seems to rock under your feet, a wind surging up out of nowhere to rustle the leaves on the trees. Your clothes whip under the force of the sudden gale, but Bonnie keeps going. You do your best to think about Jordan, all that you’d seen this morning. You keep him firmly in your mind, and the spell deepens.

All of a sudden, you hear a sound split the clearing. It sounds like a growl, not like that of a werewolf but worse, far more frightening. A pair of glowing eyes appear in the woods, along with the scent of charring smoke. Bonnie drops your hand and ends the spell, but it’s too late. The monster is here.

It steps into the clearing, and through the gaps in the branches, you can see it. This is Jordan Parrish, but he’s different. His gaze burns with fire, and he walks with the weight of something utterly inhuman. Jordan spreads his arms and he bursts into fire, illuminating fangs erupting from his mouth.

Bonnie gasps. “He’s a hellhound.”

You don’t know much about hellhounds, but if it scares Bonnie, that’s not a good sign. Jordan turns towards the sound of Bonnie’s voice and hurls a handful of fire towards her. Using your vampire speed, you manage to pull her out of the way just in time, and set her down on the other side of the clearing.

Jordan charges, but you block his path. The fire on his arms burns you, but the skin is already starting to reknit. You stand your ground, and call out to him in the hopes that he can still hear you.

“Back off, Jordan! We’re not trying to fight you, just figure out what you are.”

The beast that was once Jordan Parrish snarls, but you can see it starting to revert back into a human. It closes its eyes, and when the lids open again, the fire is gone. A few moments later, all traces that Jordan had been anything other than his usual self are gone, other than a persistent smell of smoke and the fact that his shirt is now riddled with holes from the sheer force of his fire.

He eyes you suspiciously. “What are you? No human can heal like that.”

You want to laugh. “You just erupted in fire, and you want to ask what I am?”

He nods. “Yes.”

You sigh. “Fine. I’m a vampire, Bonnie’s a witch. We know you’re a hellhound, but why are you here?”

Jordan seems to accept this. “I needed a new place to stay, and something called me here. A lot of death has taken place in this town, hasn’t it?”

This time, you do laugh. “That would be an understatement, but yes.”

You remember that you’re not alone, and glance over at Bonnie. “I think I can take it from here. Can you tell Elena and the others that we’ve got a new friend?”

She nods, looking faintly disturbed by what you’ve just seen. You can’t entirely blame her.

When you glance back at Jordan, you notice that he’s regarding you with a faint smile. “You can take it from here?” He asks, repeating your words.

For some reason, you feel the need to defend yourself. “Yeah, as long as you’re not trying to set the rest of us ablaze. Want to head back to the sheriff’s station? I’d love to see you try and explain to Liz why you had to leave in the middle of the day.”

Jordan nods, grinning. “I’m assuming people don’t have as many problems with mysterious disappearances around here. What’s your story, by the way? Were you checking me out this morning because you thought I might be another vampire?”

Your mouth falls open. “I was not checking you out, I was making sure you weren’t a threat. It’s a reasonable concern, thank you very much. I’ve been a vampire for a while, and that’s just what you do.”

Jordan accepts this, although he’s still wearing that same smirk. “So what do vampires do? Other than eliminating threats, of course.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but he appears to be sincere. “Drink blood, cause problems, all that. My brothers, Damon and Stefan Salvatore, are also vampires. We all turned back in 1864 thanks to some vampire named Katherine who liked both of them at the same time. She always bothered me. We could have been amazingly good friends, but she seemed to think that she could win over my brothers by making an enemy out of me. It was so annoying.”

Jordan chuckles. “Well, she was wrong there. I’m not sure I’d like to ever have you as an enemy.”

You hum in approval. “That’s what I thought. Anyways, what’s your story? Hellhounds don’t just turn up out of nowhere.”

Jordan’s expression turns contemplative. “No, they don’t, do they? I came here from Beacon Hills, but you already know that. I had a good group of friends, mostly werewolves, but I helped them fight their latest bad guy and there just wasn’t much reason for me to stay, especially after–”

His voice trails off, and you get the feeling that there was another reason contributing to Jordan’s departure, perhaps centered around a breakup. This shouldn’t make you happy, but for some reason, it does.

Jordan continues a moment later. “Point is, I wanted a new start, and this place seemed interesting enough so I came. I have to admit, you guys do a good job of staying undercover. I had a few suspected vampires that I’d heard about before, but they fit in well. Out of curiosity, most of the vampires seem to be enrolling themselves at the high school. Why don’t you?”

You give a delicate shudder. “If I’m cursed to stay on this earth for so long, why would I waste my time in high school? Regular humans already hate it, and they only have to go through it once. There’s no good reason I should subject myself to it over and over again. I don’t understand how my younger brother finds the motivation to do it, but I suspect it has something to do with Elena Gilbert, his latest crush.”

Jordan grins. “I can understand that. Does this mean you haven’t found a suitable crush to keep you in high school?”

You arch a brow. “Absolutely. Why do you ask?”

Jordan shrugs a little too casually. “No reason. If you’re free, though, I might not mind getting a drink sometime. It would be nice to spend a night with someone when you don’t have to lie about being a human.”

You break into a broad grin. “Jordan Parrish, are you asking me out?”

He’s smiling too, now. “Maybe. Are you saying yes?”

You pretend to consider this. “I think I am. See you at seven?”

“Sounds perfect,” he says, and you can’t help but agree. Perfect indeed.

requested by @thornyrose463

You prop your chin up on one hand so you can study him. “I could say the same thing to you. I haven’t ever met a banshee or a kitsune, and you have.”

Jordan waves a hand dismissively. “Once you see one, you see them all. You guys are different, though. You have a full on vampire hierarchy.”

You chuckle. “If you’re talking about the Originals, then yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

Jordan sits up, rubbing a hand against his temple to ward off a sudden rush of blood to his head. “And how else am I supposed to put it? I barely know anything about them. All you said is that there was one founding family of vampires, and no one here can ever decide whether to trust them or not.”

You nod slowly. “I think that sums it up just fine. Is that not enough for you, though?”

Jordan shakes his head. “Back in Beacon Hills, when we had a new crop of dangerous supernaturals, we’d go to the library and look up mythology books to see if something popped up there. We were also only using the stuff from the high school library, which is probably why it took so long.”

You laugh. “That sounds terrible. All we do is murmur about something for a while, and then one of the older vampires comes back and seemingly knows everything. Either that, or Bonnie does a spell and solves all our problems for us.”

Jordan whistles under his breath. “That does seem way faster.”

“It is,” you add, “I can see why you moved here.”

Jordan quirks a brow. “Are you sure that I only moved here for superior research techniques and not because I sensed that I needed to meet someone of the gravest importance for my entire future?”

You smile, forcing down a wave of butterflies in your chest. “That too.”

Your conversation is derailed by a shout from across the house. When you turn and look, you notice that Stefan and Damon have returned from whatever jaunt through the town they were taking this morning. They have also noticed Jordan, which may or may not be a good thing, because they’ve never actually met before. 

Damon takes it upon himself to act the role of judgmental older brother. “Who’s this? Another blood bag in human form?”

You roll your eyes. “No, Damon. Can you please greet people normally for once?”

He shakes his head. “Afraid not.”

Jordan stands up, offering his hand to Damon. “I’m Jordan Parrish, Y/N’s boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you.”

Damon and Stefan immediately stare at you, but you just smile. It’s nice to hear Jordan refer to himself as your boyfriend; although the two of you have been on your share of dates, you do rather like hearing him vocalize it. 

However, Damon will still be Damon, so he shakes Jordan’s hand with a grip that would likely fracture several human bones. Jordan just smiles and squeezes harder. 

Stefan, thank everything, seems appeased by this. It takes a rare sort of man to not immediately come to blows with Damon, so the fact that Jordan is standing his ground automatically wins over the pacifist side of your younger brother. 

“I’m Stefan. Glad we’ll have another friend around here, Jordan. You can never have too many.”

Stefan says the last part with a biting glare directed towards Damon, although the dark haired man just grins. 

You take this moment of relative peace as your sign to get out. “You know what, Jordan and I were just talking about how he hasn’t been well introduced to Mystic Falls. I think we’re going to head out for a while, stop by some places and see some more vampires.”

Jordan looks intrigued by this, but unfortunately, so does Damon. 

“I think a tour seems like a grand idea. Say, how about we tag along, too? The more the merrier, right, Y/N?”

You want to throttle him. “Damon, we aren’t in the 1800s any more. I don’t need a chaperone.”

You turn to Stefan beseechingly, but unfortunately, he seems just as inclined to cause you grief. “Actually, I think it sounds like a great idea. If you’re going out in search of dangerous vampires, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to have some backup.”

You sigh. “Alright, then. Looks like we’re having a field trip.”

Jordan just laughs. “I think it sounds fun.”

Damn your boyfriend and his relentless optimism.

Thus, the town of Mystic Falls finds three Salvatores and one hellhound stepping out of your family home and into the streets. You’ve already taken Jordan on an extensive tour of coffee shops and crowded bars, but you’re angling for a more supernatural approach now. 

The first stop is the Mystic Grill to meet Caroline, which in turn means meeting Klaus Mikaelson. You greet your friend happily, whereas Jordan and Klaus eye each other coolly from across the room. You can practically read Klaus’ mind from his furrowed brow and dangerous spark in his eyes, so you hurry Jordan away before the Mikaelson hybrid can start planning out how to fit a hellhound into a sire bond. 

Elijah finds you next, waiting outside the Grill with his hands tucked into the pockets of his suit, as impeccably dressed as always. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, who is this?” Elijah prompts, regarding Jordan with the faint curiosity of someone who has lived hundreds of years yet still manages to maintain enthusiasm about his day to day existence. 

Jordan smiles, although it seems more forced than before. Perhaps he’s rattled from meeting Klaus, or perhaps the spirit of the hellhound inside him can tell when meeting someone as ancient as himself. 

“The name’s Jordan Parrish. I work with Sheriff Forbes.”

Elijah inclines his head once. “I’ve heard that name before. Pray tell, how are the wolves of Beacon Hills?”

Stefan, who has been lurking somewhere behind you, steps forward with a start. “Wait, you know about Beacon Hills?”

Elijah spreads his hands. “I know about many things. Friends, enemies. It pays to have contacts in all sorts of places where supernatural creatures frequent, and Beacon Hills is one of them. I happen to be on good terms with a veterinarian named Deaton.”

Jordan considers this. “That doesn’t surprise me, actually.”

Damon scoffs. “Well, it does surprise me. Were you ever planning on telling us that there was a small nation of werewolves across the country, Mr. Holier-Than-Thou, or were you just going to forget about it until convenient?”

Elijah smiles. It is one of the most threatening things you’ve seen all day. “The latter, I'm afraid. If you would like me to be more vocal, though, I’d love to bring up the small werewolf nation when, say, my brother is around. I'm sure Klaus would be delighted to hear about it.”

You grin. “Touché, Elijah. I think I’ll take that cue for all of us to leave.”

He raises a hand in farewell, and you swear you can feel his eyes on your back even when your small party has crossed several streets and disappeared out of view. 

Jordan shivers. “So those were some of the Mikaelsons, huh? I can’t decide whether they’re bloodthirsty killers or just really weird.”

Damon claps him on the shoulder. “I prefer to think of it as a bit of both. There is someone here that’s worse, though.”

Jordan frowns. “Worse than the Mikaelsons? What, is there an actual demon here other than me?”

Damon shudders darkly. “Worse in a different way, Hellboy. I’m talking about—” Damon drops his voice until it’s scarcely above a whisper “—Katherine.”

Jordan arches a brow. “Ah. I’ve heard of her.”

You grin at the twin expressions of disgust on your brothers’ faces, although it dies when you hear someone speaking behind you. 

“But do you really know me, sweetheart? Rumors can be deceiving.”

Stefan grimaces. “Speak of the devil and she appears. How are you, Katherine?”

Sure enough, Katherine Petrova is waiting for you when you turn around. She’s posturing beside a park bench, and looks delighted to have such a poor reception. 

“I’m glad you think of me as a devil, Stefan. It means I’m powerful. It means you’re afraid of me, and I still have a pretty big hold on you.”

Stefan is losing the battle to not roll his eyes. “You think any publicity is good publicity, then?”

Katherine ignores this, opting instead to turn her gaze towards Jordan. “So, new boy, what’s your story? I’m a sucker for a heart of gold, so I’d love it if you’ve got one.”

Jordan dubiously raises a brow. “What, so you can rip it out of my chest?”

Katherine smirks. “Precisely.”

He nods, looking vaguely horrified. “I think I’m good. However, I think Stefan and Damon were just talking about something like that. How about I go off with Y/N while they stay here to talk to you?”

Jordan all but drags you away before your brothers can protest.

You laugh. “Thanks for the escape. I can’t stand her.”

Jordan’s eyes widen. “I get it now. I get all of it. Let’s run before she tries to catch up, or before your brothers can murder me for leaving them alone with her.”

You grin. “It’s what they deserve for trying to tag along.”

Jordan smiles as well, reaching down to take your hand. “Despite a few other people, I like your town a lot. It’s pretty. Most everyone here is nice.”

You nod in agreement. “I’ve lived all over the world, but I keep coming back here. I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe it just feels like home.”

Looking over at Jordan, you’d argue that he feels like home too. Few people have adapted to the surprise of meeting a vampire as quickly as he did, although that could be because he’s a supernatural himself. Regardless, you’re glad to have him. 

However, you notice that he doesn’t seem as carefree as you. Jordan’s eyes keep darting to the alleys nearby, as if he expects to see figures jumping out at him at any moment. 

You squeeze his hand to get his attention. “Hey, everything alright?”

Jordan inclines his head. “Yeah, I think so. It’s just- well, I saw somebody coming out of a restaurant, and I swear they look familiar. The problem is that only thing I can connect them with is Beacon Hills.”

You frown. “You think someone from your old town might be visiting? That’s a good thing, right?”

Jordan shakes his head once. “Not if they’re the person I think they are. The hunters back in Beacon Hills were brutal, just as bad or worse than over here. If someone’s come to track me down all the way to Mystic Falls, it can’t be good.”

You lean your head on his shoulder. “The way I see it, we have two options right now. Either it’s a stranger, and we’re reacting to nothing, or it is a hunter, and we’re ready for them. Regardless, you’re a hellhound and I’m a vampire. We can handle them, I promise.”

Jordan sucks in a breath through his teeth. “That’s good, because I think we’re going to be fighting anyways. Look.”

He points ahead of you. A group of two or three men have blocked off the entrance to the street, and you can see more emerging from the shadows. You and Jordan were walking on the side road, so there aren’t any other humans around to watch what’s about to happen. The hunters must have planned it so there wouldn’t be any witnesses. 

The lead hunter, an old man with a voice like a creaking hinge, steps forward. “Jordan Parrish. Did you really think you’d be able to leave Beacon Hills? We don’t allow your kind to rejoin the world so easily.”

You arch a brow. “I get what you were saying. These guys are weird.”

The main hunter directs his gaze your way. “Listen, young lady. You don’t understand who he is. Leave now before someone gets hurt.”

You laugh. “I think ‘young lady’ is a bit off the mark. I’m going on one hundred and seventy.”

The man’s eyes narrow. “She’s not human either. I say we bring them both back with us.”

Jordan steps protectively in front of you. “We’re not going anywhere.”

The man looks as if he’d been hoping to hear that. “I wouldn’t be so sure of yourselves.”

He gives a signal to his men, and they start to move towards you. One points a gun your way, but by the time he pulls the trigger, you’re behind him, snapping his neck as cleanly as a tree branch. 

Across the street, Jordan’s eyes glow, and his chest and arms erupt in flames. The hunters’ weapons seem like playthings next to him. 

Between the two of you, the hunters never stood a chance. The old man manages to disappear into the shadows before you can kill him, but at least now he can spread the word to not fuck with either of you. 

You finish off the last hunter by sinking your jaws into his throat, then let his body fall to the ground, wiping the blood from your mouth with a casual hand. 

When you turn around, Jordan is staring at you, eyes dull with something that you cannot entirely name. For a moment, you wonder if the hunter has gotten back up from the ground, and then you realize what it is. 

Jordan Parrish has never seen a vampire actually being a vampire. He’s never seen the way your eyes turn dark, how black veins spider out across your face. He’s certainly never seen your fangs dripping blood from a recent kill. Does it horrify him? You’re not sure what else it could do. 

You take a hesitant step back, raising your hands as if to fend off a blow. “I know how it looks, but you need to trust me. I don’t do this all the time, only when somebody’s trying to kill me. The rest of us vampires get our blood from hospital blood bags. We don’t hunt humans, I promise.”

You’re not sure what you expect Jordan to do. Turn and run, maybe. Keep staring at you with that same fear. Instead, he just moved forward and kisses you, heedless of the blood still smeared across your lips. 

You’re stunned into silence, but Jordan is not. “Y/N, if you think I’m going to leave you because you’re a vampire, you couldn’t be more wrong. I’m a hellhound. I’m the monster, not you.”

You smile softly. “Perhaps we can both be monsters.” It would not be the worst fate in the world. 

Jordan nods, and smiles back at you. “That sounds good to me.”

Parrish hasn’t had many years to deal with the supernatural beast who also seems to share his soul, just a couple of months and far too many dangerous encounters for him to sleep as well at night. However, there are times when he’s grateful for it, like right now. Something about having glowing eyes, claws and fangs, and the ability to summon up a fire-cloaked, practically unbeatable exterior comes in pretty handy when there are scores of hunters trying to kill him.

The hunters clog almost every turn of the hallways, far too many for the McCall pack to take on. That’s why they’d called him here at first, hoping that Parrish would be able to help turn the tide and let the ragtag band of wolves and high schoolers evacuate the hospital safely, but like most of the endeavors started by Scott and Stiles, it doesn’t seem to be that easy. The hunters are showing up in droves, and Parrish can only do so much without adding to the pile of corpses that seems to haunt him whenever he closes his eyes. Scott agrees with him that he should kill as few as possible, but that’s hard when the fire spirit lingering in his veins seems to thrive on bloodshed.

So, he lets fire race up and down the halls, blocking off the hunters’ attacks and creating diversions so Scott and the others can stay alive. The hunters had first shown up at the hospital to threaten not only Scott’s mom but Liam Dunbar’s stepfather, hoping that the double attack would provoke the famously uncontrollable beta into making mistakes. The rest of the pack had followed the two werewolves to the hospital, helping to get everyone out safely. Now, the innocents have been removed from the scene. The only problem is that Parrish and the others are stuck near the top of the building, too high up to jump from a window and stopped from leaving through the front door by a swarm of overly trigger-happy hunters.

There’s a crashing sound, and Parrish turns to see Stiles slump down next to him, taking up a defensive position behind a row of cabinets that had been former homes to countless rows of medication and test tubes. Now, they’re half scrap metal themselves, smoking at the edges. Parrish can only hope that the hospital has really, really good insurance- they seem to need it all the time. 

“We’re going to have to make a final attack. Scott and Lydia think there’s a chance we can get out, but the group in front of the stairs and elevator is too big right now. We have to find a way to get by them.”

Parrish nods, standing up and moving methodically to the exit. Stiles watches him go, noting the way his eyes light up with an unnatural fire as always. Embers and scorch marks rise to his skin as the fire burns through Parrish’s body once more, and he’s barely taken a few steps out of the door before he has to use his abilities. There’s a group of hunters trying to patrol the hallway, looking for the pack, and Parrish coolly raises a fist, knocking them back with a series of blows that leave more burns than bruises. 

Once the hellhound has managed to stave itself off from complete destruction of the retreating hunters, Parrish turns back to Stiles, who has managed to pull himself out from behind the meager shelter of the melted medicine cabinet. 

“Nice showing, fireboy, but that was a small group. There are way more waiting below.” 

Parrish shrugs. “We’ll get there when we get there. Come on- is everyone else ready?” 

Stiles nods, then frowns, his brow furrowing. It’s strange to see such a serious look on a boy who usually prides himself on never straying far from his always joking mindset.

“I thought you said you could get reinforcements. Where are they- I thought we were all here?” 

The two of them walk towards the stairs, and Parrish is about to answer when he notices something on a bench next to them. It’s not scorched or riddled with bullet holes, so it’s clearly been placed here recently. As he walks closer to examine the strange package, Parrish realizes it’s a set of fresh clothes. A note has been affixed to the top: See you soon. Don’t worry. 

It’s not labeled with a name, but Parrish smiles nonetheless, knowing at once what it means. He grabs the clothes, pulling them on over the mostly burned shreds that had once been a deputy’s uniform. 

Stiles points questioningly at the note and clothes. “What was that about?” 

Parrish fights the urge to grin like a lunatic. “You’re about to find out. It looks like our reinforcements are right on time.” 

Stiles pauses a second longer, still mulling this over in his head, then shrugs and jogs to keep up with Parrish. “Whatever. As long as we live through this, you can be as mysterious as you like.”

Parrish and Stiles meet up with the rest of the pack one floor down, next to the doors. There’s practically a platoon of hunters waiting for them in front of the locked entrance, guns out and teeth bared as if they were wolves themselves. Scott and the others linger one hallway over, not wanting to reveal themselves and start the bloodbath before they’re ready. 

Scott rushes over the second he sees them. “What do we do? There’s no way we can distract enough of them to get out in time.”

Parrish just shrugs, unable to stop a half smile from creeping onto his face. “We don’t have to. Reinforcements are here.” 

He nods his head towards the group of hunters, which are starting to turn in confusion to face a woman walking in their direction. She’s emerging from the rows of now-empty medical rooms, looking to all the world as if she was just a lost and confused patient.

The hunters frown, although one of them tosses a pinch of wolfsbane toward her to check if she’s a werewolf. 

The woman remains unaffected, although she pretends to give them an affronted glare as she brushes the purple powder from her sleeve. “Rude. Do you cover everyone you meet with mystical dust or just random people in the hospital you’re attacking?” 

One of the hunters scoffs, overconfident now that he knows she’s not a werewolf. “We’re not attacking. We’re defending the town from abominations. You should go now, before you get hurt.”

The woman tilts her head to the side, utterly unbothered. If the hunters had even a scrap of brains between them, they’d be running for the hills. Unfortunately for them, they don’t quite know the incredibly fascinating woman known as Y/N L/N, and so they stay where they are. 

The one who had spoken before gestures towards the door behind him. “Go. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Y/N laughs, the sound low in her throat. It echoes through the empty hospital antechamber, and more than a few of the hunters shiver slightly as if they’re finally realizing that they’ve really, really messed up. 

“Actually, I think that you’re the ones who should go. I’ll give you one warning to leave.” 

More of the hunters turn towards her, now annoyed instead of just humored. “Funny, girl. Hit the road before we get bored and shoot you too.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow, smile evaporating on her lips. “Oh, really? Well, at least I can say that I gave you a warning, not that you deserve it.” 

A few of the hunters must finally be realizing that something is going wrong, because they jerk their weapons towards her, about half a dozen gun barrels pointed her way. Y/N remains completely unaffected. For all she gives off, they might as well be directing water guns her way instead of military-grade rifles.

Then she stretches her hands in front of her as if preparing for a race. “I think it’s time that you left.” 

Y/N flings her palms out in front of her, arms extended. A sudden wind erupts around the hunters, strong enough to rip doors off of their hinges and shatter the glass of the locked doors behind the hunters. The men and women are knocked over by an invisible force, and even from here Parrish can hear the sound of bones breaking as they’re pulled through the doors.

Parrish can’t see where the hunters end up, only that they’re shoved far, far away. It’s as if the gales of a tornado have suddenly flared out into the hospital, directed by Y/N with the grace and strength of a conductor. If you focus on her, you could feel a rush of power, like she could tear apart the earth. She almost has, just now when she forced the hunters aside. It’s one of the reasons Parrish fell in love with her, moments like this when she looked at him through the dark and he didn’t feel afraid to hurt her because of his history as a hellhound, when she seemed like the only woman on the planet. He’d been called to her before, because of her smile and the way they could talk together for hours. This, though, is an entirely different reason to stay.

Scott and Stiles stare at her in awe. They stand where they are as if they’ve forgotten how to move. Parrish, however, doesn’t share in their hesitation, and he walks through the hallway to Y/N, who turns to him with a smile. 

“Nice show, love. Very impressive.” 

Y/N laughs, the sound ringing through the destruction of the hospital lobby with the sweet song of a dove. “Thank you, I was practicing my showmanship. Did it pay off?” 

Parrish joins her in a grin. “Absolutely.”

The rest of the McCall pack has finally remembered themselves, picking their way through the rubble to where Parrish and Y/N stand together. Lydia looks amazed, and she keeps glancing between Y/N and her own hands as if wondering whether or not she could do the same. Y/N turns to Lydia with a piercing gaze as if she could read the girl’s thoughts. To be honest, it wouldn’t surprise Parrish if she could. 

“No, I’m not a banshee. I’m a little different.”

Lydia looks disappointed for a second, then looks at Y/N in confusion. “Then what are you? No offense.” 

Y/N grins. “None taken. I’m a witch, minus the pointy hat, although I do have a pretty good spellbook. All witches have a Grimoire, and once we memorize the spells for different tasks, we can use them whenever we want. That, for example, was a spell over the winds and air.” 

Stiles nods slowly. “Can anyone learn, or just witches?”

Parrish snorts. “Stiles, you’re a great guy, but I think if you learned magic, the entire town would have to go into lockdown.” 

Y/N glances over at him, a barely concealed laugh dancing behind her eyes. “Such glowing praise. I can see you two are good friends.” 

Parrish rolls his eyes. “Oh, we’re great.” His hand reaches down to wrap around Y/N’s, a gesture that goes unnoticed by the supernaturally charged eyes of Malia Hale.

“You know, you never actually told us who you are. Are you two, uh-” 

Y/N laughs again, and Parrish can’t help but smile when she does. She’s been out of town for a while on strict witch business. He’s missed her a lot. 

“I’m Y/N, Y/N L/N. I met Jordan a while back, before either of us knew he was a hellhound. We’ve been together ever since.” 

Stiles stares. “So you’re saying that girl is your girlfriend?”

Something almost like pride sparks in Parrish’s chest, and he has to take a moment to remind the hellhound’s voice inside his chest to back off. “No, that girl is my wife.”

If possible, Stiles’ jaw drops even further. Y/N is clearly enjoying this, and holds up her left hand to show off the ring glinting on her fourth finger. Parrish can’t help but smirk to see it, the way the entire pack is now staring at him with a mixture of awe and slight jealousy. They can’t help it- Y/N is amazing, absolutely amazing. And, to make it better, she’s his.

Y/N allows this to go on for a second longer, then claps her hands together. “Alright, if you’ve all had your fill of gawking and questioning your life decisions, I’d like to get out of here. I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t particularly enjoy hanging around in hospitals, especially when the hunters could come back at any moment.” 

As the pack starts to disperse, Parrish wraps his arm around Y/N’s waist, the two of them walking out together.

“So, you’ve met the pack. What do you think?” 

Y/N smiles up at him, the moonlight making her eyes shine like stardust. “They’re not bad. They seemed a little surprised to meet me.” 

Parrish chuckles, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “They’re just stunned that someone as incredible as you would willingly hang out with us. We’re a little rough around the edges, I hear.” 

Y/N smiles. “That’s what makes you so fun.” 

Parrish leans down to kiss her, and he can’t help but feel that he may be one of the luckiest men or hellhounds to ever walk the earth.

requested by @thornyrose463

Regardless of Stiles’ motives or the continuation of his favor as your sibling, you’re still stuck in the middle of the Beacon Hills High School parking lot with no way to get out. You usually drive the Jeep to and from class, except for days like today, when Stiles steals it away for whatever supernatural crisis he and Scott manage to dig up. Your house is too far to walk, and all of your friends have left along with the school bus. You’re going to have to place a few calls.

You remember that your dad was off doing official sheriff business somewhere near the school, so you text him next, asking for a ride. It wouldn’t be the first time that you’d had to have a ride home in the sheriff’s car, so it wouldn’t be a surprise for him to drop you off at home. You’re fully expecting this to be no problem at all, which is why your heart drops in your chest when you read your dad’s returning message that he won’t be able to come pick you up after all.

The worst thing about this is the next line, the one that says that he’s asked one of his deputies to drop by and give you a ride instead. Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem- you’ve spent almost half of your childhood growing up in the sheriff’s station thanks to your dad’s late working hours, so you don’t feel bad about having one of the deputies drive you home. The only problem with this, of course, is the deputy he chose, the one guy there that you absolutely can’t stand- Jordan Parrish.

By all accounts, it makes no sense. Parrish is famous for his ability to get along with everybody, even Stiles when your brother is jacked up on coffee and ready to rant on his latest fixation for hours. Your dad has practically accepted him as another son alongside Scott McCall, your friends were thrilled to hear that he’s a hellhound and can join their pack of supernaturals, and Parrish helps out all the time whenever he can. Seeing his name pop up in your dad’s text should make you smile, relieved, knowing that you’ll be alright.

Instead, you just feel a wave of rage bubbling up inside of you. You’ve clashed with Parrish ever since the day you met him. You’re not sure what happened to make him hate you, but you’ve argued with him ever since. The two of you squabble over the smallest things, and ignore each other with haughty disdain whenever you have the misfortune of crossing paths in the sheriff’s station. For somebody whose ability is to literally burst into flames, Parrish can be pretty icy when he wants to be.

To be honest, simply walking home is sounding like a pretty good option, but it’s too late- you can already see Parrish’s car pulling into the parking lot. You consider one last attempt to make a break for it and sprint away before he can spot you, but Parrish is already coming to a stop beside you. He rolls down the window, one eyebrow raised. “Get in the car. Don’t make me late.” This latest burst of vitriol is unsurprising- for him, it almost counts as a pleasant greeting. You fight the urge to flip him off and walk as casually as you can around to the passenger’s side of the car.

Parrish is revving the engine and driving away before you’ve barely even had time to toss your backpack in the back seat and fasten your seatbelt. You don’t quite manage to stow your scoff. “I can see that all of your police work is helping you be a very safe driver.” Parrish flashes you an irritated but still bright grin. “I try to match my level of caring about my passengers to how important my passengers are to me. Right now, you’re at a low two out of ten.”

You pretend to frown. “Not a one? Honestly, I’m hurt. I thought I was more than that.” Parrish studiously ignores your look of vindication. “I only give ones to people who are dangerous and worth my time, like Peter Hale or people trying to kill me. You’re not important enough for that.” You can’t contain a laugh. “I’m not important? Jeez, I thought you’d have better insults than that.”

Parrish shrugs, turning a corner onto your street. “I guess I wasted all of my brain power by having to be in the same car as you. Try and remember to drive next time, alright? I don’t intend on being your chauffeur again.” You toss an infuriating bright smile his way. “Don’t worry about that, I hate being within ten feet of you.” Parrish pulls into your driveway, parks, and gestures towards the car door with an unnecessarily dramatic flourish of his hand.

“Wonderful. Now please, leave me be.” You laugh, reaching back to grab your backpack before you go. “What, no goodbye kiss?” You swear that he actually glares at you. “Get out of my car.” “With pleasure.” You wave goodbye happily, jumping out of the car before he can reach across and smack your arm. To his credit, Parrish doesn’t drive away until you’ve unlocked your front door and walked inside, although you do notice that he makes a point to head out as fast as he can, tires screeching in his haste as he does his best to call your attention to him leaving.

After that, your life is fairly uneventful, as far as life in Beacon Hills goes. Stiles apologizes profusely for taking the Jeep and not telling you that he was skipping class. You forgive him as long as he promises to get you next time, which he does. You don’t see Parrish after that, thank everything, and your dad doesn’t bring it up, as he appears to have forgotten about the whole ordeal.

However, you’re going to have to go back to the sheriff’s station today, because you need your dad to sign a form for school. There’s a field trip in a week or so, and you accidentally forgot to get it signed until today, the day before it’s due. You’ll be driving over to the station after school so you can get it turned in to your teachers in time.

You’re hoping for a quick in and out trip, but when you walk through the door of the station, you notice that your dad’s still talking in his office with somebody that was supposed to have left half an hour ago, and you’re going to have to wait until he finishes with them. You wave halfheartedly at him through the window of his office in greeting to make sure he sees you, grimace at the tired and frustrated look on his face, and take a seat on one of the benches lining the station.

You’re fully intending to distract yourself with your phone or a book or something until your dad is free, but you’ve barely been there for a minute or so before you come to the unfortunate realization that this won’t be happening at all. A voice calls out to you from the nearest desk, the one you’d been hoping would be empty. “Y/N, is that you? Come to make us miserable once again?”

You flash a glare towards Parrish, who’s looking at you with a satisfied grin. “I’m only here to get this form signed and then I’ll be gone. Trust me, having to spend time anywhere near you isn’t on my bucket list.” Parrish sighs, pretending to be hurt. “That isn’t what you said when you asked me to come pick you up from school a week ago.” You shoot him a look. “I didn’t ask you, I asked my dad. You aren’t my top choice for a driver.”

Parrish looks completely unaffected by this. “Well, if you’re going to be here and bother me, can you at least be useful? These reports need to be stapled.” He tosses a stapler your way, which you catch with an incredulous look. “You can’t be serious.” Parrish smirks. “It’s not like you have anything better to do. Come on, I bet you’ll have plenty of fun.” He’s not entirely wrong- you have no idea how long you’ll be waiting for your dad to finish up with whatever distraught parent is in his office, so you reluctantly get up from your bench and hold out a hand to accept the papers awaiting stapling.

To be honest, you’re almost surprised by how well you and Parrish are working together. He signs the necessary lines and checks the necessary boxes on the papers, then hands them to you. You staple them and place them on the far corner of his desk, one after another. Neither of you speak at all, which is very much preferable, you just work side by side in silence. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that you were almost having a good time, what with the way he pretends to toss the papers to you and with the way that you pretend to threaten him with the stapler. There’s a smile on his face that you swear was there before, and there’s a matching grin on your face, too.

After about ten minutes of this, the door to your dad’s office opens, and his frazzled visitor leaves. Your dad files into the main room of the sheriff’s station a few seconds later, and sighs in frustration when he sees you at Parrish’s desk. “Y/N, what are you doing here? Stop bothering my deputy and tell me what’s going on.” You hold up the necessary forms, all previous happy thoughts gone in an instant. “I need you to sign these for school- they’re due soon and-”

At the same time, Parrish starts speaking, much to your surprise. “She’s not bothering me, sir. We’re working on the forms you wanted.” You glance over at him, stunned that he would defend you, but your dad just sighs again. “Whatever. Y/N, come over and let’s talk these forms over. I’m in a rush, so let’s make it quick.” You excuse yourself from Parrish’s side, murmuring a quick thank you before you go. You swear that his eyes follow you to the door of your dad’s office, and that he’s looking at you with something almost like worry in his gaze.

To be honest, you’re fairly sure that Parrish is right to be worried about you. It’s another one of those work days for your dad, one of the days when he starts reaching for the glass bottles before night begins to fall. He’s stressed out, and you can tell that, but there’s nothing you can do except hold up the papers and pray that he doesn’t take too much of his annoyance out on you. “I need these for school. They’re for a field trip, and-”

Your dad cuts you off. “Field trip? Where are you going?” He doesn’t give you time to finish, rifling through the papers with a groan. “Why didn’t you tell me about these beforehand? I’d want to check this place out first.” He looks up at you, as if truly noticing that you’re there for the first time. “Hell, what are you doing here now? Why not wait until I got home? This is one of my hardest days of work, you know that, and you’re here wasting my time. Stiles wouldn’t do this sort of thing. What is it about you and always wasting my time? I swear, sometimes I think we’d be better off if your mother had stayed alive and you’d-”

He manages to cut off his semi-drunk tirade before he can fully say the damning words, but you know what he meant. “You’d be better off if I’d died instead of Mom.” Your dad winces, but doesn’t correct you. Something turns to ice in your chest, and you manage to find the strength to slam your hand down on your dad’s desk instead of crumpling to the ground. “Just sign the papers, Dad.” He has the dignity to look a little ashamed, and scribbles his name in the required few places before he lifts his hands and looks away. The dismissal is clear, and it cuts at you like a knife.

You grab the forms and head to the door, doing your best to pull yourself together before you fall apart entirely. You’ve barely closed the door of the office behind you when you look up and remember that you’re not alone. Thankfully, the rest of the deputies are off on lunch break, so they hadn’t heard your dad’s alcohol-induced words, but there’s still one person here, staring at you with wide eyes full of regret- Parrish. Perfect: the one person who hates you has just heard your father condemn you. You can’t think of anything you’d like to happen less.

You start to shuffle through the station as fast as you can, desperately trying to reach the door before you suffer the humiliation of bursting into tears in front of your so-called enemy, but Parrish beats you to it, holding the door open so you can spin out into the now blinding sunlight. To your surprise, he follows you out into the parking lot. You huff out a laugh, still trying your hardest to keep your emotions in check. “What, eager to get rid of me, too? Looks like you’ll have to fight my dad for that.”

When he speaks, Parrish’s voice is quiet. “I’m sorry- I didn’t want to hear it, but-” You grin bitterly. “My dad couldn’t help but shout it out. No problems, Parrish. Now you’ve just got more material. What’s not to love?” Parrish doesn’t respond to this, though. “Jordan.” You blink up at him, confused. “What?” He clarifies. “Jordan. That’s my name.” You shake your head uncomprehendingly. “You’ve literally never let me use it. Besides, not to cause problems, but this isn’t exactly the time. My dad just told me that he wishes I was dead, you heard it, and you’re telling me to use your first name?”

Parrish-Jordan- laughs in spite of himself, although he quickly silences himself again. “I wanted to distract you. You’re better than whatever the hell the sheriff just said.” You laugh with him, although you’re somewhat lacking in the gesture. “Careful, Jordan. You can’t talk bad about your boss.” Jordan’s jaw sets. “Actually, I can. He’s wrong to say those things about you.” You stare at him. “Jordan, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that you’re actually defending me. Have you suffered a severe blow to the head?”

Jordan smiles out of reflex. “No, I’m just not a fool. Anyone who can’t see that you’re pretty damn amazing is blind.” You can’t help but laugh at that. “Literally half an hour ago, you said that my presence made you miserable.” Jordan deadpans. “I was kidding. Like most of the insults I say about you, by the way. In case you’re taking any of those to heart, don’t.” Now you’re looking at him, face completely serious. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that he looks serious too, all traces of a joking smile gone from his face. Whatever you’d thought about how much he hated you, you might be wrong.

“What are you talking about? We argue all the time.” Jordan gives you a look. “And how much of it do you actually mean? When was the last time you actually insulted me and had genuine hate behind it?” You don’t like the way you can’t argue with that, so you counter. “What about how you complained about having to pick me up from school.” Jordan looks down at his hands, suddenly embarrassed. “I, uh, actually asked your dad if I could pick you up instead of him.”

There’s self-consciousness in his gaze, sure, but you recognize a quiet anger in the set of his shoulders, and your questions flee. “He complained about having to pick me up, didn’t he?” When Jordan looks back, you’re surprised by the clear burst of rage in his eyes. “He shouldn’t have. You’re worth more than that, Y/N. I hope you know that.” You’re taken aback for a second, and then your smile returns in full. “I do.” 

  Jordan looks at you for a second longer, then leans forward and kisses you. You hadn’t realized that the two of you had steadily been drifting closer until now, or that you would want him to kiss you as much as you do at this moment. Something about this, the two of you, feels so right that you’re almost regretful when he breaks away. Jordan’s expression mirrors yours in dismay to leave, but he jerks his head towards the sheriff’s station once more.

“I have to go back in or your dad will have my head. Not for lack of wanting.” You laugh. “I can’t have you fired because of me.” Jordan starts to walk away, and then he jogs back to you. “Can I swing by your house after my shift ends?” You raise an eyebrow. “What about Stiles?” Jordan grins cheekily. “He doesn’t have to know.” You don’t have to consider this for a second. “My window will be open.”

Jordan’s smile widens, and he moves forward to kiss you one last time before heading away once more. You watch him as he goes, one hand drifting unconsciously to your lips. This certainly isn’t the way that you’d expected today to go, but in all honesty, you’re not sure that you mind.

The worst part is that they don’t even seem to see what’s wrong with it. As head of the California Institute, you’re expected to remain levelheaded, and constantly issue out solid, understandable rules for every Shadowhunter training underneath you to follow. So, even though you’d like nothing more than to snap at all of them and beg them to treat non-Shadowhunters with respect for once in their lives, you have to hold yourself back.

The current group in front of you, delegates from the Clave, is one that you cannot afford to alienate. They’ve been here all day, under the pretense of running a few ideas by you on how to make sure your Institute is as protected as possible. In reality, they’ve been snooping around for hours, trying to find something to call out. You’re fairly sure that all the higher-ups in Idris are sick of you, but seeing as you’ve done nothing but boost the numbers of successful Shadowhunters, they can’t do anything about it. Besides, you’ve got some strong family contacts, even if most of the adults in your family can’t stand you.

Your first strike was when you moved out from the New York Institute to head the one in California. The California Institute is well known for being the most dangerous of all the institutes, most notably because it’s pretty close to a town so supernaturally charged that you’re not even sure how anyone there stays alive. Incidentally, your very boyfriend came from that town: Beacon Hills.

You’ve listened to many of Jordan Parrish’s stories over the years about mundanes dressing up as hunters, rival packs of werewolves going to war, banshees and evil fox spirits, and so much more that you have no idea how he’s even made it out alive. Or, you’d be surprised that he’s still alive were it not for the fact that he’s a hellhound himself and thus one of the most powerful supernaturals there is. Over time, many of the supernatural villains from Beacon Hills tend to drift by your Institute on the way over, which means that you have to keep dispatching them. It tends to take up a lot of your schedule.

Also, Jordan’s your second strike. If Maryse and Robert Lightwood didn’t approve of you traveling so far from home to run the California Institute, they definitely had strong feelings when they found out you were dating someone who wasn’t a Shadowhunter, and a Downworlder nonetheless. There were some fairly difficult fights in the beginning, but once you took a stand and told them once and for all that nothing they could say would make you leave Jordan, they backed off a little.

You still have contacts in your family, though, and that comes in the form of your siblings. Your twin brother, Alec, still clings to the fact that he’s ten minutes older than you, but you love him more than most things in the world. Your younger sister, Isabelle, has been described as ‘alarmingly like you’, a title that makes both of you laugh. 

On the few times that you’ve been able to get back to New York in the past few years, she’s been doing better than ever, or so she tells you. Your youngest brother, Max, is still in Idris, and you barely know him at all, you were so old when he was born. By then, you were already desperate to get out of your parent’s reach, so you left. You regret that sometimes, but it isn’t enough to convince you to stay.

Besides, why would you want to move back to New York? You’ve established a place for yourself in California, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You’ve been able to transform the California Institute into a more welcoming place, somewhere Shadowhunters can learn and train regardless of their family inheritance. Despite all the complaints of the Clave elders about how you’re not sticking to tradition, they can’t deny the results.

And, every day when you say goodbye to everyone for the night, you get to slip away from the Institute and head back to a cozy apartment tucked away into the city. It’s halfway between the Shadowhunters and Beacon Hills, and you’ve got someone there waiting for you with a smile and a kiss. That’s what gets you through this meeting with the Clave, as it has gotten you through many other days of tedium: the thought that at the end of this, you’ll have Jordan.

Once the meeting finally ends, with you successfully managing to keep any comments about how there are good Downworlders and some of them are far more bearable than some Shadowhunters you’ve met, you head back home with a smile. At first, the thought that the head of an Institute would be living outside its walls caused quite the stir, but you’re only a ten or fifteen minute drive away, so it was eventually accepted by the Clave. If they ever need you, they can send a fire message, and you respond to those pretty quickly.

The lights are on when you finally get home, and you barely take a few steps towards the door before it unlocks. Jordan claims that he always knows you’re there by the sound of your feet running up the stairs alone, which must be a bonus of hellhound hearing, but it’s sweet of him nonetheless. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you inside, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he does.

You smile at him, tossing a few seraph blades and smaller knives onto the couch near you. Such is the life of a Shadowhunter, after all- weapons everywhere, and not a drop of technology to be seen. That was a shock to Jordan at first- no WiFi in the apartment, and no phones or computers, but the fact remains that Shadowhunters can’t use technology without it being either impacted by protective wards or hampering general demon hunting. 

Once he heard that going without technology could help save your life, he was all for leaving his laptop locked away at the office. Besides, he claims it helps him focus. He does have a small burner phone in his pocket, though. Too many werewolf emergencies happen for him to fly fully under the radar.

Jordan raises an eyebrow as you slump back into his arms. “Rough day?” 

You grimace, although he can’t see it from the way your face is tucked away into the space underneath his chin. “The Clave sent more people to come chat.” 

Jordan nods in sympathy. He’s heard a fair amount of stories about how the Clave won’t stop interfering in Institute business to know what this means.

However, you don’t feel like wasting any more breath on them, so you tilt your head up to look at him again. 

“You got home recently, then? How’s Beacon Hills?” 

Jordan chuckles. “Barely holding together, as per usual. Scott McCall swears that something new is about to happen, but that could just be the fact that Stiles keeps getting paranoid. They both go off of each other so much that they declare crises when there’s nothing there at all.”

You laugh at that. “You know that if you ever need help-” 

Jordan nods. “I’ll call somebody who can hover near the Institute until you show up, I know. We can handle it.” 

You incline your head, acknowledging this. “I know, I just like thinking that you aren’t alone out there.” 

Jordan smiles, absentmindedly tapping your shoulders in mindless rhythms. “I know I’m not alone, there are mystical angel warriors out there saving our lives.”

You snort, poking him in the ribs. “I think mystical angel warrior is a little bit of an exaggeration.” 

Jordan shrugs. “I happen to believe that it works perfectly, but I guess you can think whatever you want.” 

As you laugh, you can feel the stresses of the day melting off of you. That’s what it’s like with Jordan, after all- whenever you see him, you can’t think of anything else but the two of you. If you had any worries before, they’re gone now, and you can rest.

Soon enough, there’s a dinner preparing itself on the stove through the combined efforts of one exhausted hellhound and one thoughtful Shadowhunter, and the smells of herbs and spices are wafting through the kitchen. There’s a song playing, and every now and then when the meal does not require immediate attention, Jordan’s spinning you around in slow circles, or you’re dancing with him barefoot through the small available space.

You step away to check how long you have until dinner is cooked and Jordan follows you. “You got mail today, by the way.” 

He gestures towards a seemingly nondescript envelope, one that wouldn’t stand out at all were it not for the dark protective runes scrawled all over the paper to make sure it didn’t fall into the wrong hands. 

Dinner temporarily forgotten, you wander over to the envelope, neatly slicing it open and reaching for the contents. All that’s inside is a thick piece of stationary, one that’s been printed with a wedding invitation for Alec Lightwood and Lydia Branwell. You sigh as you look at it. There’s no personalization or note written anywhere on it, just the sterile paper (typical Alec), but you still feel as if an overwhelming sense of disappointment has tinged the invitation with acrid bitterness. 

Jordan glances at the paper. “Your brother’s getting married? Looks like we might be visiting New York after all.” His brow furrows as he looks at you. “Is everything alright? This is good news, yes?” 

You chew your bottom lip, thinking. “It should be, but I don’t think it is. Lydia Branwell is in a good position with the Clave, but this doesn’t seem like something Alec would do. He’s never mentioned her, which means that this is sudden. I think either Maryse put him up to this or Alec feels that the only way to get Clave approval to take over the New York Institute is to get married to this woman. Shadowhunters don’t usually marry for love, but I kind of hoped Alec would get that chance.”

Jordan frowns, noticing your disappointment, then steps forward so he can wrap his arms around your waist. “Guess that’s why we’re lucky, huh? I get to have you even without the Clave’s approval.” 

You laugh quietly into his chest. “I’m very lucky.” 

All the same, you can’t stop thinking about Alec. You love your twin, and you don’t want to see him roped into a marriage if he doesn’t want it. Alec has given up too many parts of himself to sacrifice his heart as well. 

You end up arriving in New York a few days later, intending to show up and stay for about a week. You don’t get to see your siblings as often, so this is the perfect time to catch up with everybody. Plus, you want to figure out what happened to Alec to make him want to marry Lydia. 

At first, Jordan is hesitant to go with you. “Don’t they spend all of their time trying to get rid of Downworlders? It’ll probably be best if I wait this one out.” 

However, after a brief fire message with Alec confirming when you’d arrive, he mentioned that he had no problems with Jordan being there, and if your boyfriend wanted to come, everything would be fine. 

However, things change when you touch down in New York and are instantly engulfed in a crowd of overexcited Lightwoods. Technically, Shadowhunters are supposed to be all serious, but hey- you’ve missed your siblings, and they missed you. Alec rolls his eyes when Isabelle charges towards you across the airport, but he’s grinning, and so are you.

You reach out a hand towards him as Isabelle nearly tackles you. “Hey, Alec. No need to look so excited to see me. I know you’re just hiding it.” 

This warrants a snort from your twin, and once you manage to extricate yourself from Isabelle, he gives you a casual one-arm hug as well. “It’s good to see you. We’ve got a lot to talk about.” 

Your smile dies at his words, and you give him a quick once over. The bags under his eyes look darker than you’d last seen them, and even his reluctant smile is tight, like he’s not entirely sure that he isn’t forcing it. 

“Yeah, I think we do.” 

Through some amount of trickery and a fair amount of Magnus Bane’s magic, you’re able to bend the rules and get Jordan into the Institute. You’re not entirely sure how he’s able to do it, but Magnus just waves away your concerns with something about how Jordan is a different type of Downworlder, one who apparently doesn’t have as many issues with hallowed ground. He may have more difficulty calling up his hellhound abilities while he’s within the boundaries, but he’s there, and that’s what matters.

You thank Magnus profusely, and when you’re sufficiently out of hearing range of the other Shadowhunters, you turn to him with no small amount of concern. “Are you alright? You don’t quite seem like yourself.” 

Magnus’ lips flatten into a thin line. “I’m fine.” 

His words are clipped and brusque, nothing like the eclectic warlock you remember. It appears that Alec isn’t the only one who’s going through it.

Speaking of Alec, you manage to get him alone after a little while, under the guise of training. You fold your arms across your chest and fix him with the deathly stare of a twin who knows something is up with their closest sibling. 

“What’s wrong? And don’t tell me everything’s fine, I know it isn’t. This wedding is a little odd.”

Alec chuckles, specifically avoiding eye contact. “That’s a little harsh. Sure, I haven’t known Lydia as long, but it’s not that bad. Say, you brought your broadsword, right? We can check it, make sure everything’s holding up while we’re here.” 

Your hand reflexively moves to the leather scabbard at your waist. Your brother has his bow and arrows, your sister her whip, and you have your broadsword. It’s been clasped in your hands during many a fight, and saved your life many times over.

However, it’s not enough to convince you to drop the subject. “It’s fine, Alec. We’ve got some pretty good armorers over in California. Besides, you can’t distract me that easily. Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to guess?” 

Alec sighs, running a frustrated hand through his dark hair. At last, he turns to look at you again, and you’re surprised by the look of sheer stress in his eyes. “How did you know you loved Jordan? Even though he wasn’t a Shadowhunter, though.” 

You rock back on your heels, having not entirely expected this line of questioning. “I knew just like you’d know with anyone else, I guess. I realized I’d rather risk my reputation with the Clave than have to give up a shot at life with him by my side. Why do you ask?” 

Alec nods slowly. “Just thinking some things through.” 

You walk closer to him. “Is someone putting you up to this? You can’t let Maryse force your hand in everything, you know. You deserve a life outside of her rules.” 

Alec barks out a harsh laugh. “What, and abandon everyone like you did?”

You jerk backward as if he’s struck you. A moment later, Alec swears under his breath. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean that. Guess this is getting to me more than I thought.” 

You know your brother, and you know that the regret in his eyes is legitimate. “I know. If you ever need help, I’m here. But I’m serious, Alec. You’re going to have to stand up for yourself at some point. Don’t let that time come too late.”

Alec nods, and you leave the room. You can’t deny that your brother’s words troubled you. He seems consumed by worry about something, something he can’t even tell you. Whatever choice he comes to make, you can only hope that it will be the one he wants, not the one your parents want for him.

The day of the wedding comes soon enough. You stand near Isabelle, both of you dressed in gold. Despite the splendor of the day, and the proud expression written all over your mother’s face, the only thing you can think about is that Alec does not look happy, not at all. However, there’s nothing you can do about it now except watch, and you do. You watch as Lydia approaches Alec at the altar, how she smiles and he does his best to return the expression.

Just before Lydia marks Alec’s skin with the wedding rune, there’s a commotion at the door. You turn with the rest of the congregation to watch Magnus burst into the room. He ignores Maryse’s attempts to shut him out, saying that he’ll only leave if Alec tells him to do so. 

And, when Alec has a brief whispered conversation with Lydia before walking back down the aisle to kiss Magnus, you know then and there that he did make the right choice after all. All of a sudden, the question he asked you, about how you knew you loved Jordan enough to anger the Clave, makes sense. He was considering a choice like that of his own.

After that, the wedding party is thrown into disarray. There is no more wedding, of course, but there’s still meant to be a celebration or at least a gathering with all of the usual trappings of matrimony. You stay close to Jordan all the while, unwilling to lose him in the crowd. At some point, you manage to congratulate Alec on deciding to step away from the marriage. He seems relieved, like a burden has been lifted from his shoulders. It’s a good look on him.

The night does not end without its share of happiness. There’s a small gathering in one of the bigger rooms of the New York Institute, where some Shadowhunters decided that they already had the makings of a party so they might as well go along with it. It is there that you find yourself dancing with Jordan, swaying side by side to the music. You smile up at him, and he smiles back at you.

His voice is quiet, barely heard above the music. “What are you thinking about?” 

You glance at the room around you, then back at him. “How glad I am that I got to make the same choice as Alec. I’d make it again and again, and I’ll always choose you.” 

Jordan lifts his arm to spin you, and when you come back, he pulls you closer to him than you had been before. “Well, I supposed I’d have to mention that I’m just as happy with you.” 

You lean against his shoulder, and let the world fade to smears of color behind your eyelids. In that moment, it’s just the two of you and the music, spinning away into eternity. Nothing more and nothing less.

teen wolf tag list: my right choice @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @thatfangirl42​

requested by @thornyrose463​, who also made this great graphic!

The stillness doesn’t last forever, of course. Soon, the sounds of war will approach, the streets will crack from German tanks running them down, and the entire scene will fall away into shreds. Every time, you wake up in a haze of fright, and every time you can’t quite convince yourself that you’re not still there, that everything that’s happened in the twenty-first century hasn’t been a dream.

Reality sets in soon enough, as it always does. You’ll see an electric clock, numbers shining at you from across the room. The whir of an air conditioning unit catches your attention. Through the window, you can see the lights and mayhem that is New York City. You’re not in the 40s, and there’s no way to get back.

You weren’t always a distracted, nervous mess whenever you close your eyes. Once upon a time, there was a girl named Y/N Rogers, and she had plans to go to art school like her twin brother Steve and be happy. You were her, once, although you haven’t been her in a very long time. When the Second World War started and you watched countless friends get drafted, you knew you had to do something to help. So did Steve, who took the war effort just as seriously as you did, especially after Bucky left for the front lines.

Then, out of the blue, the two of you had stumbled upon your opportunity. When Dr. Erksine came knocking, you and Steve hadn’t even had to consult each other before saying yes. It was an experimental surgery, he said, which is why he needed both of you. Being able to have two patients with near identical DNA would be perfect for replicating the process on others. Besides, who wouldn’t want to help their country, even if it meant becoming a super soldier in the process?

That transformation marked the first time you and Steve had ever been truly separated. You two were often sent off to different parts of the country as glorified showgirls, spangled all in red, white, and blue to perform for cheering audiences. On the few times that you were allowed to go on stage together, you spent most of the afterparty crammed into the backstage with your brother, complaining about the fact that what was supposed to be your big shot to do just as much as the soldiers had turned into a dancing monkey routine.

When you’d finally been sent overseas, it was no better, or at least not at first. The twin Captain Americas ‘went off to war’, but you and Steve remained firmly at American camps. Although you were so close to the action you could practically taste it, everyone seemed hesitant to let you go fight. At last, you and Steve had heard that Bucky had gone missing, and from there, not even the most stringent of army rules could have stopped you two from finding him. He was like a part of your family, after all. There was no way you could have let Bucky die behind enemy lines.

It had been good, then. You and Steve had returned with a truckload of liberated prisoners of war, and finally been allowed to fight. You had a vibranium shield, just like Steve, and when the two of you were sent out to deal with the Red Skull on board his plane, you had jumped at the chance to finally take the guy down. It is no secret how that story ended, not today at least. When the ice water had started to infiltrate the ship, you and Steve had said your goodbyes, and let the water take you. There was no way you could be saved, not without damning the other. Wasn’t it better that way, after all? At least then you could die with him, and you’d never have to be separated. It was all you could ask for.

But you’d woken up later, and Steve hadn’t been by your side. You’d practically torn apart the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility trying to find him, only willing to listen to Director Fury after you’d found your brother and been convinced that the 40s had been left to die a long time ago. That was a matter of months ago, and now Fury’s trying to recruit the two of you to his new pet project: the Avengers Initiative.

You know all this, and you know that the only way to survive here is to move forward, yet you can’t quite convince yourself to let go of the past. The nightmares still plague you, time after time, and they never stop seeming real. Bucky is gone. Your home is gone. What more could you lose?

You’re still shivering from the nightmare, and you know you won’t be able to fall asleep after this, so you stand up, pulling on some clothes and heading out of the Avengers Tower. It’s an early morning, for sure, but not early enough to stop the coffee shop down the block from setting out its glowing signs and opening up its doors to early risers and exhausted super soldiers such as yourself.

However, if you’re expecting a relaxing start to your morning, you’re not exactly going to get it here. You’ve barely opened the door before someone almost collides with you, having started to leave the shop at the same time. He’s holding a cup of coffee loosely in his hand, too, and it’s only thanks to your super soldier reflexes that you’re able to move out of the way in time to avoid the splash of piping hot liquid. 

You look up at the man, ready to complain or at least issue out a fairly judgemental look, when your words dry up on your tongue. The man standing before you looks, well, nice, in the morning-coffee-honest-smiles kind of nice that you thought you left behind in the 40s. He has dark, somewhat close-cropped hair, with bright green eyes and an apologetic grin already rising to his lips. He winces at the coffee stain only a few inches away from you.

“Jeez, I’m sorry about that. Looks like I need this coffee more than I think. Can I get you a drink to make up for it?” You smile along, surprising yourself. Maybe it’s the fact that this man seems to be genuinely upset that he ran into you, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s treating you like a normal human being. You’ve become used to the surprised stares and curious looks from the S.H.I.E.L.D. officers around you. You live in a building where everyone knows you not as Y/N Rogers but as one of the two Captain Americas. Here, though, this man just sees you as a new face. How refreshing, to say the least.

However, you’re still wary of strangers, so your smile turns polite. “That’s alright, thanks. I don’t think I’m in the mood for coffee after all.” This is true, actually- the haze of post-nightmare induced sleep deprivation is gone, and you won’t need the stimulant anymore. The man frowns. “Then can I get you something else? Dinner, maybe?” You find yourself agreeing before you know it. Wouldn’t it be nice, after all, to pretend to be a normal person who goes on dates with men who smile at her, instead of someone who’s used to washing her hands clean of blood and having to work around bureaucratic spy organizations hellbent on making her into a status symbol if she can’t be a martyr?

The man grins, then slaps a hand to his face. “I’m Jordan, by the way. Jordan Parrish. I think I forgot to introduce myself.” You smile. “I’m Y/N.” You walk with Jordan out of the coffee shop and down the block; presumably to his workplace, although you find you don’t mind the casual stroll. Jordan nods. You half expect him to ask your last name, although with a sidelong glance, he doesn’t look curious, as if he already knows it. As if he already knows you.

You raise an eyebrow. “You already knew who I was, though, didn’t you?” Jordan winces. “I didn’t want to say anything. I figure you get a lot of the starstruck attitude from everyone else, and it probably gets old fast.” You laugh a little, surprised. “In a way, yes. Thanks, then, Jordan.” He glances over at you, confused. “For what?” You decide you might like him after all. “For not letting it faze you.”

Parrish stares at the building up ahead of him, the building that’s getting larger and larger with every step he takes towards it. He’s been dating Y/N for a while now, although this day might be a true test on his courage. Although he knew Y/N was Captain America from the moment they locked eyes, he’s never interacted with that side of her. All he knows is Y/N Rogers, the woman who was willing to go out on a date despite his nearly spilling coffee on her, and Parrish doesn’t need her to be any more than that.

However, Y/N insisted that he meet the Avengers at some point. She’s supposed to be leading them through whatever crisis hits New York, and one way to get them to finally respect her as a leader is to show vulnerability. So, Parrish is going to come up and casually pick her up, thus showing to the other Avengers that she’s just a human like the rest of them, capable of both picking up entire cars and going out with NYPD officials who’ve gotten themselves in way too deep just because they fell in love.

Parrish stops before the Avengers Tower, stares at his reflection in the glass door, and straightens his tie. He’s a Hellhound, for goodness’ sake. He’s faced hunters and monsters along with his friends for a long time, but somehow meeting Y/N’s team is testing him now more than ever. All he has to do is muster up the courage to say a few pleasantries, wave awkwardly, and get his girl. That’s it. He can do that, right?

The elevator beeps quietly. Parrish isn’t entirely sure how the receptionist knew to let him in but she’d just taken one look at him and waved towards the back entrance. Y/N must have let the Avengers know he’d be coming ahead of time. Does that make things better or worse?

When the elevator finally comes to a stop, Parrish finds himself in the middle of what appears to be a completely normal penthouse, were it not for the high-tech devices scattered across the halls and the fact that there are supersoldiers and demigods littering the rooms. Parrish is just about to wonder whether he should cough quietly or just head inside when a man who could only be Tony Stark straightens up, seeing him at last.

“Ah, Girl Rogers, this must be your boy. Come introduce us.” Further down the room, Y/N straightens up from where she’d been discussing what was most likely an upcoming mission with some of the other Avengers. It’s funny- Parrish actually hadn’t seen her until now. It’s like the sight of her here, among the other superheroes, made so much sense that it’s almost hard to believe that there could ever be a world in which she chose him instead of anyone like the Avengers. Sure, Parrish may be a supernatural himself, but this feels like an entirely different level.

Then Y/N rushes up to him, beaming, and kisses him as a hello, and Parrish feels most of his doubts fade away from him. He’s introduced to one Avenger after the other in quick succession, and is left to stand there awkwardly while Y/N tries to find her phone. Tony goes after her, as does Thor. Parrish almost thinks he’ll be left alone when one final Avenger comes up to him- the one he’s admittedly been most nervous about meeting. Y/N’s twin brother, Steve Rogers.

Steve shakes his hand purposefully. “You must be the boyfriend.” Parrish swallows. “You must be the brother.” Steve chuckles, although Parrish isn’t sure that he said anything particularly funny. They both watch Y/N down the hallway for a moment before Steve speaks again. The blond supersoldier keeps his eyes carefully trained on Y/N, who’s still talking and laughing with her coworkers, although his words are clearly directed towards Parrish.

“You know, I was pretty surprised to hear that Y/N had started dating you. I figured it would be difficult for her in the modern world.” Parrish does his best to sound nonchalant. “She’s been really good to me, and I’ve done my best to be good to her.” Steve nods mechanically. “I trust you, Jordan. That’s not why I had my doubts.”

Parrish cuts his eyes over to Steve, but the man still stares away down the hall. “Then what were your doubts, if you don’t mind me asking?” A soft smile touches onto Steve’s lips, as if he’s remembering days long gone. “Y/N had another boyfriend, you know, back in the 40s. He was a soldier just like the rest of us. Honestly, I thought they might get married, the way they carried on. They were so in love it was crazy.”

Parrish’s mouth feels dry, and he finds he can’t pull himself together long enough to ask any questions. Luckily (or perhaps unluckily), Steve keeps going. “All that ended when we went into the ice, of course. We checked in on her soldier later, found out he died a couple years ago of complications due to old age.” At last, Parrish finds his voice. “I’m sorry for your loss.” At last, Steve looks over at him. 

“I’m not telling you all this to try and scare you off, you know. Well, maybe a little. Point is, Y/N’s been having a hard time moving on, and this is the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time. I had to leave someone I loved back in the 40s too, so I know how it feels. All I’m saying is that you’re a good thing for her, more than you know.” Parrish nods stoically. “I won’t break her heart.” Steve raises an eyebrow. “I should hope not.” The words may seem harsh, but Parrish swears that Steve’s almost smiling.

Parrish is saved from having to respond to that when Y/N rushes over to him, phone held triumphantly in her hand. “Let’s go, Jordan. I hope Steve hasn’t been bothering you too much?” The last part is directed towards her brother with a grin, and Parrish is able to match one in kind. “Not at all, actually. It was nice to meet you, Steve.” Steve raises a hand in farewell. “Likewise.”

You’re exhausted. Sometimes, it feels like you’ve been fighting your entire life, but this? This is something entirely different. The Chitauri seem to come in neverending waves, with alien after alien pouring down into the streets of New York. You’ve barely been able to survive by the skin of your teeth, and your vibranium shield scarcely stays in your hand for longer than a second as it takes down one Chitauri soldier after another. You’ve got orders to keep the hordes at bay while Thor and Tony try to figure out how to close the wormhole, and you intend to follow them.

The worst part is that you can’t just look out for yourself, you have to look out for the whole city. The streets are filled with people trying desperately to flee the Chitauri forces, and it’s like you have to watch hundreds of backs instead of just your own. You turn and turn, stopping one attack after another, but you can only hold out for so long.

Then, you see it- a pair of policemen running alongside a group of people about your age, trying to get them to safety. Your heart plummets when you realize you recognize them, especially the dark-haired policeman at the front- it’s Jordan and his friends. There’s Stiles Stilinski at the front, along with his dad, the sheriff, Scott McCall with Kira Yukimura, and Malia Hale and Lydia Martin neatly dodging rubble and debris. You can’t afford to be distracted on the job, but you still feel a wave of terror crest over you when you realize that they’re a few feet away from a Chitauri attacker. It sees them, raises its weapon, and-

The energy blast hits your shield with the force of a moving truck, but you grit your teeth and stand your ground. You kick hard at the alien’s chest, forcing it back, then swing your shield one last time, neatly slicing its head from its chest. You stand there for a second, panting, then turn back around. You thought you got there in time, but what if you didn’t? Your fingers fly to your helmet, unbuckling it so you can take it off and see better. The wind pulls at your hair, your eyelashes, but you don’t care. You just have to make sure they’re alright.

Jordan, however, is fine, and runs to you. He throws his arms around you and you let yourself lean into him, swaying slightly. “You’re alright?” You ask as he pulls away, and he nods. “Thanks for the save. I’ll get them out of here.” You nod. Behind him, a dark-haired boy races up, mouth agape. You recognize him from Jordan’s description as Stiles. “Parrish, when you said that you were dating some pretty girl named Y/N, I didn’t think you meant the Y/N Rogers, one of two Captain Americas. I think that was something you should have mentioned.”

You laugh, glancing over at Jordan in bemusement. “You told them I was pretty?” Jordan shrugs, although you can tell he’s trying to hide a blush. “I didn’t lie.” Stiles still stands there, unable to comprehend what he’s seeing. “Oh my God, you’re dating an Avenger and didn’t tell us?” You grin, nodding over at Stiles and the rest before strapping on your helmet. “He is. I’ll talk to you more once we win this fight, alright?” 

Jordan pulls you in for one last embrace before you go. “Be safe, okay?” You smile over at him. “Always am.” You can hear Stiles and Malia questioning Jordan as you go, saying something in raised voices about the fact that you being an Avenger was very much something that should have come up in conversation.

The fight is over soon enough, with Tony nearly killing himself to get the missile back into the wormhole to shut the whole thing down. You’re left staring at your friends and brother, breathing heavily, wondering how it’s possible that the whole thing could be over. Somehow, you almost thought that you might be fighting until the end of time.

Tony sits up, groaning. “You guys up for some shawarma?” You can’t help but laugh. “That sounds great to me.” You help Tony to his feet then head with the rest over to the Avengers Tower. You have to spend a while wrapping things up and assuring S.H.I.E.L.D. that everything is fine and you’ll stop letting so much property damage happen when it comes to saving the city, but from there, you appease a complaining Tony Stark and head over to a nearby shawarma restaurant. You’re all still in uniform, but the staff is apparently so shellshocked/professional that they don’t even bat an eye.

You’re fully expecting to be the only ones in the restaurant, but after ten minutes or so, the doorbell rings and a group of people file in. Steve gently reaches over and nudges your arm. “Mask.” You know what he means- usually, you keep your helmet on to disguise your identity while in uniform, but for once, you smile and shake your head. “Actually, I know them.”

You stand up, stretch, and walk over to where Jordan stands with Scott, Stiles, Lydia, Malia, and Kira. “Now I’m starting to think that you all are following me.” Jordan chuckles. “Not me. Maybe Stiles.” Stiles gives Jordan an outraged look, and the two of you laugh quietly. From across the room, Nat glances at you questioningly. “Who are these guys?” You turn back to her with a grin. “This is my boyfriend, Jordan, and his friends. Guys, these are the Avengers. Want to talk for a while?”

teen wolf tag list: the captain to my america (non-steve edition) @rogueanschel

requested by the amazing @thornyrose463​, who also made this incredible moodboard!