saucefactory: #ACTUAL JAGUAR DEREK HALE The panther…ish thing, whatever it was, was huge. Huge and dark-furred and menacing, red-gold eyes glinting like cut gems. It loped toward him, equal parts graceful and deadly, and Stiles scrambled backward, heart pounding, even though he knew that he was supposed to stay still, that if he so much as moved, the creature would only give chase. But the panther - jaguar? It was a jaguar, wasn’t it? - just tilted its head, oddly contemplative, and placed a heavy, deliberate paw on Stiles’s chest. Stiles’s heart stopped. Or, well, it felt like it stopped. He couldn’t breathe, caught by that reddish, feral, unwavering gaze. A low, rumbling purr rose from the jaguar, and then, between one blink and the next, there was a guy crouching there, tall and naked and - and naked, Jesus Christ, what? “What?” Stiles croaked, feebly, because it couldn’t hurt to vocalize his doubts. All those confidence-building seminars had definitely taught him the importance of vocalizing his doubts. Loudly. He was failing bitterly at the ‘loud’ part, though; his volume refused to rise above that of a squeaking mouse. “You trespass upon our land,” the guy intoned, in that purring, rolling-thunder voice, his eyes the exact shade of red-gold as the jaguar’s, and - holy shit. Holy shit. “Some psychedelic drugs that I do not remember consuming are tresspassing upon me, that’s what. Because this can’t be real.” Stiles’s pulse wouldn’t stop hammering. “Right? You can’t be - this isn’t - ” “I am the guardian spirit of this forest,” the dude-that-was-too-tangible-to-be-any-sort-of-spirit said. “You trespass upon our land. Leave.” “Or?” Stiles swallowed, wondering if he was adding another level of crazy to his clearly already crazy consciousness, but he did not take well to threats. (He usually just ran away from ‘em.) “What’ll you do, if I don’t leave?” “If you don’t leave,” said the spirit-jaguar-person, almost conversationally, “I will rip your throat out. With my teeth.” Stiles’s throat clicked. Nervously. In anticipation of being ripped out, possibly. Those eyes were so red. And those - were those fangs? “Um,” Stiles mumbled, this close to pissing himself. “Thanks for the hospitality. Sorry for intruding, and everything. I guess I’ll be, er. Leaving? Now?” And that was when Stiles realized that the jaguar’s paw - hand - whichever - was still on his chest. Much less heavy, but no less substantial. No less of a threat. But didn’t the jaguar want him to go? “By ‘now,’ I meant sooner rather than later? Very sooner rather than later? If you could just… take your hand off, I could…” The spirit took his hand away, and studied it, like it belonged to someone else. Who the fuck even knew? Maybe it did. Wouldn’t be the strangest thing to happen today.  “Good luck, with the. And the. You know. Life. The life that you lead. Here. It’s a nice house, gotta say. Very… leafy.” “The forest is my home.” “I got that. Great home. Very tasteful interior decorating, with the autumn-themed carpet and the decorative moss. And the ambient soundtrack of forest-birds. Very fancy. By the way, you wouldn’t happen to know of some creep dumping a body here a couple days ago, would you?” The spirit stared at him uncomprehendingly. Stiles hurried to explain. “‘Cause I’m with the sheriff’s office, see - uh, that’s law-keeping for humans, in case you didn’t know, being a nature-spirit, and all. We keep the law, over at the sheriff’s office. Anyway, there’s that, and… someone died. A young woman? And I’m. I was only here to, uh. Find her body? Lay her to rest? And catch her killer, give her family closure. That sort of thing.” The spirit kept staring at him. “Um. Or I could just go. Before you rip my throat out. With your. Damn.” “There is a body,” the spirit said slowly, and Stiles almost shot off his feet to slap the spirit over the shoulder in a delighted fashion, except… spirit-slapping would probably get him cursed. He snatched his hand back and ran it through his hair. “Yeah?” Stiles said. “That’s awesome! I mean, that’s terrible. Poor girl. I don’t suppose you could, I dunno, lead me there? I know you want me outta here, but trust me, if I don’t find this girl, then there’ll be a whole bunch of cops in here - cops are the law-keeping humans I was talkin’ about - and not many of them will be happy respecting your, um. Your boundaries.” The spirit flicked his fingers, casually, and motherfucking claws sprang out all over them. “And what if I refuse to aid you?” Stiles shrugged. “Then you refuse to aid me, and I GTFO. Which means ‘get the fuck out,’ so - ” “You needn’t offer your services as an interpreter. I understand the modern world.” Stiles squinted at him. “You do? Mr. I Roam the Woods in the Buff Without Knowing That It’ll Get Me Arrested for Public Indecency?” “I understand enough. Come back, before sundown, tomorrow. I will lead you to the body. You will remove it, and then, you will never return.” “But what if - I mean, there’ll have to be a team of us, just a tiny team, not like the whole station, or anything, but we’ll have someone from forensics, and we’ll have a photographer, and - ” “Only you,” said the spirit-jaguar. “Only you are permitted, and only for the duration of the investigation. Any others that trespass will be - ” “Prosecuted? To death? Gotcha.” “I don’t believe you do.” The red eyes narrowed. “No. Exceptions. You come alone.” “I always come alone, that’s what my right hand is for, I - sorry, not the right tine for masturbation jokes. Heh. Okay. Fine. If you insist. I mean, it is your home, and I can’t just barge into it any old time, but… maybe you could give me a description of the creep, in return? In exchange for my not bringing anyone else?” Stiles tried not to sound hopeful, but he knew his eyes must be big and round. He needed a break on this case, damn it. “You already owe me for trespassing and escaping unscathed. Do not ask for more.” “I won’t, then. Crap. I’m late for dinner with my dad.” Stiles checked his wrist-watch, alarmed. “See you ‘round, werejaguar!” “It would be better if you never returned,” replied the spirit, stubbornly, and Stiles felt his own lips curve in a smile. “Maybe. Or maybe not. We’ll see.” And with that said, Stiles got the hell outta this accursed forest, panting with every breath, glancing behind him repeatedly to check if a giant black beast with a predator’s gait was following him. It was not. He wasn’t disappointed when he reached the edge of the forest without seeing the jaguar, and walked back to where he’d parked his car (the station’s car, really) without being followed. He wasn’t considering turning around and going back, back where he’d seen a big cat’s fur shift effortlessly into human skin, seen powerful haunches turn into powerful thighs. He wasn’t being ridiculous. He was being practical. Mature. More-or-less-sane. God, had he actually - Had all that just happened? Stiles got into the car, put his key into the ignition, and just sat there, for a few minutes, looking out into the shadows of the forest. They could be hiding anything, those shadows. Anything, at all. Omg Teen Cat.Yesss

saucefactory:

#ACTUAL JAGUAR DEREK HALE

The panther…ish thing, whatever it was, was huge. Huge and dark-furred and menacing, red-gold eyes glinting like cut gems. It loped toward him, equal parts graceful and deadly, and Stiles scrambled backward, heart pounding, even though he knew that he was supposed to stay still, that if he so much as moved, the creature would only give chase.

But the panther - jaguar? It was a jaguar, wasn’t it? - just tilted its head, oddly contemplative, and placed a heavy, deliberate paw on Stiles’s chest.

Stiles’s heart stopped.

Or, well, it felt like it stopped. He couldn’t breathe, caught by that reddish, feral, unwavering gaze.

A low, rumbling purr rose from the jaguar, and then, between one blink and the next, there was a guy crouching there, tall and naked and - and naked, Jesus Christ, what?

“What?” Stiles croaked, feebly, because it couldn’t hurt to vocalize his doubts. All those confidence-building seminars had definitely taught him the importance of vocalizing his doubts. Loudly. He was failing bitterly at the ‘loud’ part, though; his volume refused to rise above that of a squeaking mouse.

“You trespass upon our land,” the guy intoned, in that purring, rolling-thunder voice, his eyes the exact shade of red-gold as the jaguar’s, and - holy shit. Holy shit.

“Some psychedelic drugs that I do not remember consuming are tresspassing upon me, that’s what. Because this can’t be real.” Stiles’s pulse wouldn’t stop hammering. “Right? You can’t be - this isn’t - ”

“I am the guardian spirit of this forest,” the dude-that-was-too-tangible-to-be-any-sort-of-spirit said. “You trespass upon our land. Leave.”

“Or?” Stiles swallowed, wondering if he was adding another level of crazy to his clearly already crazy consciousness, but he did not take well to threats. (He usually just ran away from ‘em.) “What’ll you do, if I don’t leave?”

“If you don’t leave,” said the spirit-jaguar-person, almost conversationally, “I will rip your throat out. With my teeth.”

Stiles’s throat clicked. Nervously. In anticipation of being ripped out, possibly.

Those eyes were so red. And those - were those fangs?

“Um,” Stiles mumbled, this close to pissing himself. “Thanks for the hospitality. Sorry for intruding, and everything. I guess I’ll be, er. Leaving? Now?”

And that was when Stiles realized that the jaguar’s paw - hand - whichever - was still on his chest. Much less heavy, but no less substantial. No less of a threat. But didn’t the jaguar want him to go?

“By ‘now,’ I meant sooner rather than later? Very sooner rather than later? If you could just… take your hand off, I could…”

The spirit took his hand away, and studied it, like it belonged to someone else.

Who the fuck even knew?

Maybe it did. Wouldn’t be the strangest thing to happen today. 

“Good luck, with the. And the. You know. Life. The life that you lead. Here. It’s a nice house, gotta say. Very… leafy.”

“The forest is my home.”

“I got that. Great home. Very tasteful interior decorating, with the autumn-themed carpet and the decorative moss. And the ambient soundtrack of forest-birds. Very fancy. By the way, you wouldn’t happen to know of some creep dumping a body here a couple days ago, would you?”

The spirit stared at him uncomprehendingly.

Stiles hurried to explain. “‘Cause I’m with the sheriff’s office, see - uh, that’s law-keeping for humans, in case you didn’t know, being a nature-spirit, and all. We keep the law, over at the sheriff’s office. Anyway, there’s that, and… someone died. A young woman? And I’m. I was only here to, uh. Find her body? Lay her to rest? And catch her killer, give her family closure. That sort of thing.”

The spirit kept staring at him.

“Um. Or I could just go. Before you rip my throat out. With your. Damn.”

“There is a body,” the spirit said slowly, and Stiles almost shot off his feet to slap the spirit over the shoulder in a delighted fashion, except… spirit-slapping would probably get him cursed. He snatched his hand back and ran it through his hair.

“Yeah?” Stiles said. “That’s awesome! I mean, that’s terrible. Poor girl. I don’t suppose you could, I dunno, lead me there? I know you want me outta here, but trust me, if I don’t find this girl, then there’ll be a whole bunch of cops in here - cops are the law-keeping humans I was talkin’ about - and not many of them will be happy respecting your, um. Your boundaries.”

The spirit flicked his fingers, casually, and motherfucking claws sprang out all over them. “And what if I refuse to aid you?”

Stiles shrugged. “Then you refuse to aid me, and I GTFO. Which means ‘get the fuck out,’ so - ”

“You needn’t offer your services as an interpreter. I understand the modern world.”

Stiles squinted at him. “You do? Mr. I Roam the Woods in the Buff Without Knowing That It’ll Get Me Arrested for Public Indecency?”

“I understand enough. Come back, before sundown, tomorrow. I will lead you to the body. You will remove it, and then, you will never return.”

“But what if - I mean, there’ll have to be a team of us, just a tiny team, not like the whole station, or anything, but we’ll have someone from forensics, and we’ll have a photographer, and - ”

“Only you,” said the spirit-jaguar. “Only you are permitted, and only for the duration of the investigation. Any others that trespass will be - ”

“Prosecuted? To death? Gotcha.”

“I don’t believe you do.” The red eyes narrowed. “No. Exceptions. You come alone.”

“I always come alone, that’s what my right hand is for, I - sorry, not the right tine for masturbation jokes. Heh. Okay. Fine. If you insist. I mean, it is your home, and I can’t just barge into it any old time, but… maybe you could give me a description of the creep, in return? In exchange for my not bringing anyone else?” Stiles tried not to sound hopeful, but he knew his eyes must be big and round. He needed a break on this case, damn it.

“You already owe me for trespassing and escaping unscathed. Do not ask for more.”

“I won’t, then. Crap. I’m late for dinner with my dad.” Stiles checked his wrist-watch, alarmed. “See you ‘round, werejaguar!”

“It would be better if you never returned,” replied the spirit, stubbornly, and Stiles felt his own lips curve in a smile.

“Maybe. Or maybe not. We’ll see.”

And with that said, Stiles got the hell outta this accursed forest, panting with every breath, glancing behind him repeatedly to check if a giant black beast with a predator’s gait was following him.

It was not.

He wasn’t disappointed when he reached the edge of the forest without seeing the jaguar, and walked back to where he’d parked his car (the station’s car, really) without being followed. He wasn’t considering turning around and going back, back where he’d seen a big cat’s fur shift effortlessly into human skin, seen powerful haunches turn into powerful thighs. He wasn’t being ridiculous. He was being practical. Mature. More-or-less-sane.

God, had he actually -

Had all that just happened?

Stiles got into the car, put his key into the ignition, and just sat there, for a few minutes, looking out into the shadows of the forest.

They could be hiding anything, those shadows.

Anything, at all.

Omg Teen Cat.

Yesss