I do not own Teen Wolf. I only own Celeste. If I did I can assure you Malisaac would be a thing.

Song – Lost Boy // Ruth B

Celeste's POV

"Woah, slow down."

"Me slow down?" Stiles demanded from the front seat of the Jeep, Scott looking at Celeste incredulously, "I don't think Derek will appreciate us slowing down."

"No," Celeste waved her arm around, covering the speaker of her phone, "I'm talking to Lydia, dumbass."

"Oh," Stiles mumbled, "right."

"Sorry Lyds," Celeste huffed into the phone, "continue."

"I'm just so confused," Lydia sobbed brokenly into the phone, "and I can't piece together what the hell happened tonight, and Allison just gave me some bullshit about loving her boyfriend. It feels like we're the only normal ones left in this town."

The Jeep skidded to a halt outside of a parking garage, and the trio could distantly hear Derek sparring with the Kanima inside.

"What now?" Stiles asked, his whiskey eyes widened.

Scott just bolted out of the vehicle without responded.

"Oh, okay," Stiles muttered to himself, "that's fine, just leave the defenseless human and Matrem Looney by themselves."

"Matrem Luna, thank you very much," Celeste whisper-yelled at the boy, who mocked her from the front seat, before returning her attention to a crying Lydia, "Lyds, are you sure this is about what happened tonight? Or is it about what Allison said."

Lydia fell silent for a moment.

"I just," she spoke up finally, "she sounded so sincere, like Scott was the best thing that ever happened to her. What if I never get that? What if I never get my Scott?"

"Scott smells anyways," Celeste countered, earning a tiny giggle from her strawberry blonde best friend, "but honestly Lydia, you'll find your special someone. Even if you don't, who even says you need one? I'll do it. I'll be your Scott."

"You have Stiles," Lydia deadpanned.

"Please, Stiles is just a placeholder," Celeste scoffed, shrugging when the boy sent her an offended glare, "I'm just waiting for you to realize you're in love with me so we can run away together."

"I really do love you Celeste Lune," Lydia spoke honestly.

"And I you, Lydia Martin," Celeste smiled easily.

Their love fest was cut short by the alarming sound of gunshots ringing through the parking garage.

"What the hell was that?" Lydia panicked, "Cel, where the hell are you?"

"Uh, scary movie at Stiles' house," Celeste improvised, "he's forcing me to watch Die Hard again. I have to go, I love you."

Lydia echoed her words before hanging up, and Celeste leaned forward, resting her head on Stiles' shoulder.

"Kanimas can't use guns, can they?" she asked nervously.

"I'm no expert," Stiles grimaced, "but I don't think he could handle it in his evil little claws."

"So that means-,"

"The Argents arrived," Stiles interrupted, "yeah."

Their revelation was cut off by the sight of a green blur racing past them, and an earnest looking Scott McCall following soon after.

"Tally ho," Celeste cried, tapping Stiles on the shoulder as he started up Roscoe to chase after them.

"Why do I even like you?"

☾ ☽

Stiles groaned as they pulled into the parking lot of Jungle, a local club for Beacon Hills' gay community.

"Why am I not surprised that Jackson chose to come here?" Stiles groaned, hopping out of the Jeep and helping Celeste out.

"Come on Stiles," Celeste grinned, "gay is yay."

"True," he nodded.

The two spotted Scott lurking behind the building, Stiles tapping him on the arm as they approached.

Scott sucked in a breath of air, caveman grunting and turning to face them, obviously surprised by their sudden appearance.

"Sorry," Stiles rambled, "I'm sorry. Did you see where he went?"

"I lost him," Scott admitted once he recovered from his shock.

"What?" Stiles demanded, "You couldn't catch his scent?"

"I don't think he has one," Scott informed his friends.

"Alright," Stiles sighed, "any clue where he's going?"

"Maybe he just wants to party," Celeste shrugged.

"To kill someone," Scott corrected ominously.

"Ah," Stiles nodded his head sardonically, "that explains the claws, and the fangs, and all that. Makes perfect sense now."

The teen wolf only glared at him.

"What?" Stiles defended, "Scott, come on. I'm 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone, okay? Sarcasm is my only defense."

"You also have a baseball bat," Celeste offered.

"Just help me find it," Scott snapped, obviously not in the mood for Stileste's antics.

"Not 'it'," Stiles frowned, "Jackson."

"Yeah," Scott winced, "I know, I know."

"Alright," Stiles nodded, "but does he know that? Did anybody else see him back at your house?"

"I mean, I don't think so," Scott pondered, "but he already passed Derek's test anyway."

"Friendly reminder that Derek's bullshitting his way through this mess just as much as we are," Celeste spoke up.

"How did he pass the test?" Stiles' brows furrowed together.

"I don't know," Scott admitted.

"Maybe it's like an either-or thing," Stiles offered, "I mean, Derek said that a snake can't be poisoned by its own venom, right? When's the kanima not the kanima?"

"When it's Jackson," Scott realized.

Celeste sighed, but her eyes widened at the sight of something on the roof of the club, and she nudged Stiles urgently.

"Uh, dude," Stiles backed up slowly, pushing Celeste behind him, "see that?"

The trio observed as a scaly tail slithered through an opening at the top of the building, tensing up with worry.

"He's inside," Scott stated the obvious.

"What's he gonna do in there?" Stiles frowned in confusion.

"I know who he's after," Scott froze.

"What? How?" Stiles pestered, "Did you smell something?"

Celeste's face fell as realization crashed upon her, thinking back to the text she had gotten from one of her close friends, begging her to come out and have fun with him as a way to get over his now ex-boyfriend.

"Armani," Scott spoke darkly.

☾ ☽

"How are we gonna get in?" Scott panicked, terrified for Danny's life.

"Alright," Stiles began planning, "maybe there's a window or something we could-,"

His sentence was cut off as Celeste let out a scoff, grabbing on to her boys' hands and dragging them to the front of the queue outside of the club.

"Hey," a large bouncer barked at them, "get in the back of the- Celeste?"

"Hey Jimmy," Celeste giggled at Scott and Stiles' incredulous expressions.

"Oh my god, I haven't seen you around here in forever," Jimmy leaned in to give the girl a big bear hug, "I thought you died or joined a convent or something."

"I've just been a little busy, sorry," Celeste under exaggerated, "but I brought a few of Danny's friends to help him get over a breakup."

"Friends, huh?" Jimmy smirked, eyeing a very violated looking Scott up and down, "Well, come on in."

Celeste thanked him as he undid the velvet rope to let the trio in, the boys following behind her with bug-eyed expressions.

"Why did that bouncer know you?" Stiles demanded.

"Everyone needs a club buddy for safety," Celeste shrugged, "I'm Danny's."

"Dude," Scott looked at Stiles, "everyone in here's a dude. I think we're in a gay club."

"Man," Stiles looked at his best friend, "nothing gets past those keen werewolf senses, huh Scott?"

Celeste laughed as Stiles was surrounded by a group of drag queens as they squealed about him.

She spotted Danny over by the bar with a forlorn expression and immediately headed over.

"You're in the midst of a swarm of hot, shirtless guys and you're still frowning?" she called out, Danny brightening at the sound of her voice.

"Celeste," he beamed, wrapping her up in a hug, "I thought you weren't going to make it."

"Change of plans," she shrugged, "now what's wrong? I thought you came here to get Tyler off your mind, not mope about him."

"Unfortunately, he decided he wasn't done making my life hell," Danny sighed, nodding over to where his ex was dancing suggestively with another guy.

"Jinkies," she winced sympathetically.

"Is that my baby Cel I hear?" the bartender called out with a grin, causing the two teenagers to turn around and face him.

"Hey Nick," Celeste grinned, leaning in to high five the easy-going man.

"You're better off without him, by the way," Nick addressed Danny.

"Still doesn't feel good," Danny's expression fell again, and he began fiddling with the straw in his drink.

"You know what will feel good?" the bartender countered, "That guy."

He pointed over to a shirtless guy eyeing Danny, who grinned and made his way over.

"Ah, kids," Celeste sighed proudly.

"You want your usual?" Nick laughed at her words.

"You know me so well," she beamed at him.

Nick shrugged her off and went to make her usual Shirley Temple – no alcohol added – but was stopped by Scott and Stiles stumbling over to stand next to Celeste.

"Two beers," Stiles grinned, drumming his fingers on the bar.

"I.D.'s?" Nick asked hesitantly.

Celeste pinched the bridge of her nose as both boys handed over their real I.D.s.

"How about two cokes?" Nick laughed, looking at Celeste.

"Rum and coke?" Stiles asked eagerly, dancing jerkily to the music, "Sure."

Nick blinked at him.

"Coke's fine, actually," Stiles relented, "I'm driving anyway."

Nick slid over Celeste's drink and signaled a worker to get the boys theirs before leaving to serve another customer.

Celeste sipped the sugary concoction through the small straw, relishing the burn of the bubbles in her mouth.

"That one's paid for," a shirtless server gestured to Scott's coke as he served them.

A young man in a tank top raised his beer to the teen wolf, nodding at him flirtatiously.

"Oh, shut up," Stiles grumbled when Scott looked over at him with a grin.

"I didn't say anything," Scott giggled.

"Yeah," Stiles scoffed, "well your face did."

Celeste and Scott laughed as Stiles turned to face the crown of dancers with a pout, and followed his lead.

"Hey," Stiles turned somber, "I found Danny."

"Don't worry," Celeste shrugged, "there's no way he can get to him with all these people around."

"I found Jackson," Scott spoke up, nodding to the ceiling directly above the dancing boy.

"Okay," Celeste spoke shrilly, "never mind."

"Get Danny," Scott commanded.

"What're you gonna do?" Stiles wondered.

Scott flicked out his claws.

"Works for me," Stiles nodded, interlocking his fingers with Celeste's and hugging her close to his body as they made their way onto the dance floor.

"Danny," Celeste called out, but her soft voice didn't carry well over the pounding music.

"Danny?" Stiles' voice was much louder and more demanding, but the teen was too wrapped up in the random boy he was dancing with to notice.

Before they could do anything else, smoke began pouring out from the machines on the ceiling and clouding the vision of everyone below.

"Stiles?" Celeste whimpered, having lost the boy in the confusion, "Scott?"

Bodies fell to the ground around her, and Celeste's breath caught in her throat as she came face to face with the kanima.

"Jackson?" her head was clouded with fear and panic, both of others and her own, but she remained steady as she looked the creature in the eye, "Jackson, I know you're in there. It's Celeste. You know, the asshole that steals your fries at lunch and watches old sitcoms with you? Please, you don't have to do this. You don't have to do any of it."

The kanima had been frozen, but at her words, he charged forward.

She braced herself for the inevitable pain, but it never came.

Instead, the monster gently pushed her back until she stumbled into Scott's sturdy arms.

"Celeste?" he peered down at her shaking form, holding her closer in hopes of comforting the obviously terrified girl, "Where did Stiles go?"

"I- I don't-," she cut herself off at the sight of glowing red eyes, both teens stiffening as a shifted Derek began stalking forward.

"No," Scott cried out as he realized Derek's intentions, "don't."

However, that didn't stop the alpha wolf from flicking out his claws and essentially gutting the scaled creature in front of him.

The kanima immediately retreated, and people began screaming as they noticed the bodies on the ground.

"Find Stiles," Scott commanded of her, and made a move to follow after Jackson.

Instinctively, Celeste let out a whimper and grabbed on to his arm.

Scott softened at the sheer terror in her eyes.

They both knew she had faced imminent danger before, but to Celeste, the idea of someone she considered a friend turning into such a cold, malicious creature was the scariest thing they had faced yet.

Granted, she'd probably be safer staying inside the club, but Scott grabbed her hand and led her outside anyway, knowing she couldn't be alone right now.

The two followed a trail of blood out to the parking lot, and Celeste let out a gasp of a very human, and very bare, Jackson laying on the ground, unconscious and covered in his own blood.

She immediately let go of Scott's hand and fell to the ground beside him, ignoring his lack of clothing as she gently cradled his face in her hands and checked for a pulse.

Celeste and Scott both let out sighs of relief as the boy let out a gasp and began spluttering for air.

The harsh echo of sneakers pounding against pavement filled the silence as Scott knelt down next to Celeste and joined in her concern.

Stiles appeared from a row of cars, his amber eyes wide and filled with unshielded panic before they fell on Celeste.

"Oh thank god, I thought I lost you," Stiles squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if her were collecting himself, before they flew open and he noticed Jackson's unconscious form, "oh- oh god. What is that?"

"It's Jackson," Celeste frowned, her blue eyes downcast and full of worry.

☾ ☽

Celeste wrinkled her nose slightly as she inched as far away from Jackson in the back of Stiles' jeep as humanly possible.

Her concern for the boy was unending, but she was still highly uncomfortable with being in such close proximity to his barren form, even if there was a blank draped across him.

"I couldn't get anything out of Danny," Celeste jumped as Scott slid into the vehicle.

"Okay," Stiles bounced his knee up and down, "can we just get the hell out of here now, before one of my dad's deputies sees me?"

Scott nodded his assent, but before Stiles could even start the car, his father's cruiser pulled up right in front of them, sirens blaring.

"Oh my god," Stiles began waving his arms around, "oh my god. Could this get any worse?"

Jackson groaned from beside Celeste.

"That was rhetorical," Stiles snapped at the boy as though he could hear him.

"Get rid of him," Scott commanded.

"Get rid of him?" Stiles sassed, "We're at a crime scene, and he's the sheriff."

"Do something," Scott flailed in his seat.

Stiles groaned and flailed back, but got out of the car all the same.

Celeste sat complacently in her seat, making no move to get up until Stiles threw open the back door and pulled her out.

"Rude," she huffed, but allowed herself to be tugged along.

"I didn't want you in there alone with the kanima," Stiles explained casually.

"It's Jackson," Celeste corrected, "and Scott was in there with us."

She narrowed her eyes as Stiles mimicked her, and was about to respond when Stilinski approached them.

"Hey," Stiles forced a smile as he greeted his dad.

"What's up, John?" Celeste beamed.

"What are you doing here?" the sheriff frowned at his son after smiling towards Celeste.

"What do you mean what am I doing here?" Stiles improvised, "It's a club. We were clubbing, you know? At the club."

Celeste added in an awkward dance move for good measure.

"Not exactly your type of club," Stilinski raised a brow at him.

"Uh," Stiles blinked rapidly, "well, dad, there's a conversation that we need-,"

"You're not gay," the sheriff spoke dryly.

"Wh- I could be," Stiles scoffed.

"Not dressed like that," his father sassed him.

"Wh- what's wrong with this?" Stiles brandished towards his charcoal grey shirt and hoodie with a frown.

"You could totally be gay," Celeste assured him.

"Thank you," Stiles huffed, before narrowing his eyes, "wait-,"

"This is the second crime scene that you just happened to have shown up on," Stilinski lectured, "and at this point, I've been fed so many lies that I'm not even sure I know the kid standing in front of me. Now, what the hell is going on?"

Celeste nearly choked on the seething frustration radiating off of the sheriff and the subsequent hurt pouring from his son.

She gently reached for his hand, interlacing their fingers and giving his larger one a gentle squeeze as a means of comforting him.

"Dad," Stiles blinked, having trouble coming up with an excuse as he recovered from his father's harsh words, "I- I-,"

"The truth, Stiles," John's stern voice resounded throughout the air around them, and even Celeste flinched at his tone.

"The truth, alright," Stiles sighed out, and for a moment Celeste thought he was about to reveal everything, "well, the truth is that we were here with Danny. 'Cause he just broke up with his boyfriend, so, you know, we were just trying to take him out and get his mind off things. That's- that's it."

"Well," Stilinski sighed after a moment's hesitation, "that's really good of you guys. You're good friends."

"Thanks dad," Stiles grimaced, and Celeste held on to his hand tighter, "we should get going, though. I need to get Celeste home."

"Right," John nodded, "see you later."

With that, Stiles and Celeste made their way back to the jeep and, rather than returning to her seat next to the naked lizard, she made herself comfortable on Scott's lap.

"Deal with it, Scooby," she shrugged when Scott went to protest.

The teen wolf shrugged and relaxed back into his seat as Celeste began to fiddle with the radio.

☾ ☽

"What about your house?" Stiles suggested, contributing to the discussion of what exactly they were going to do with lizard boy.

"Not with my mom there," Scott protested, "we need to take him somewhere we can hold him long enough to figure out what to do with him. Or long enough to convince him he's dangerous."

"I still say we just kill him," Stiles braced himself for the backlash.

"We're not killing him," Scott groaned as Celeste flicked Stiles' ear.

"God," Stiles huffed, "okay, okay. I got an idea."

"Does it involve breaking the law?" Scott asked hesitantly.

"By now don't you think that's a given?" Stiles glanced at him.

"I was just trying to be optimistic," Scott pouted.

"Don't bother," the buzz-cut boy snapped.

"Is this going to be more or less illegal than breaking into our school?" Celeste tried.

"Oh, more," Stiles nodded, "definitely more."

"Zoinks."

☾ ☽

Celeste yawned sleepily as she leaned into Stiles' side, her eyeliner from the night before flaking off and giving her raccoon eyes.

Granted, neither Scott nor Stiles could taunt her for her disheveled appearance, seeing as they had hardly given her time to freshen up in between stealing a prison transport van and locking Jackson inside of it.

A soft breeze danced through the barren trees in the middle of the Beacon Hills Preserve, and Celeste snuggled further into Stiles' warmth.

"On a scale of one to ten," Celeste pondered, "how alarming is it that I didn't even get an adrenaline rush from stealing a vehicle straight from a police station?"

"Oh," Stiles shrugged, "I think we've far surpassed worrying about Grand Theft Auto in real life."

"That's fair," Scott sighed.

"Stiles?" all three teenagers flinched as a harsh, loud voice rang out from the van, "McCall? I'm going to kill you."

"He didn't mention me," Celeste noted smugly.

"Yeah, yeah, we get it," Stiles grumbled, "everyone loves you."

"That's because Celeste is precious and can do no wrong," Scott interjected, leaning in to fist bump the girl.

"I guess we should talk to him now," Stiles sighed.

He and Scott looked at each other tensely.

"Not it," Scott called out quickly.

"Not i- damn it Scott," Stiles groaned, and the teen wolf grinned smugly at him.

"Don't worry," Celeste eased, "I'll go with you."

The boys went to protest, but a dangerous expression from the very sleep deprived and slightly bug-eyed girl silenced them.

"Fine," Stiles grumbled, "but only because you kind of scare me right now."

Celeste merely shrugged, following after the boy once he slung his backpack over his shoulder and began making his way to the van.

Stiles clumsily unlocked the doors and swung them open, flinching when he was greeted by a venomous glare from Jackson.

The dark-haired girl offered the shackled boy a sympathetic smile as she shuffled into the vehicle after Stiles and closed the door behind them.

"Okay," Stiles sat opposite of the kanima and began rummaging through his backpack, "we bought you some food-,"

"Let me out," Jackson practically snarled, causing both Celeste and Stiles to flinch back as he lunged forward, "now."

Stiles' eyes darkened as he noticed the fear in Celeste's eyes.

"You know," he snapped bravely, "I put those pants on you, alright buddy? One leg at a time. Being all up close and personal with your junk wasn't exactly a highlight of my day. So don't think this is fun for me either. You know, we're actually doing you a favor."

"This," Jackson rattled the cuffs on his wrists incredulously, "is doing me a favor?"

"Yes," Stiles seethed, "you're killing people. To death. Yeah, and until we can figure out how to stop you, you're gonna stay in here. I'm sorry. Now, you want the ham and cheese, or the turkey club?"

Stiles held up two sub sandwiches, and Celeste eyed them, secretly hoping he would pick the turkey club so she could have the ham and cheese.

"You actually think my parents won't be looking for me?" Jackson was practically shaking in anger.

"Uh, well," Stiles spoke up, and Celeste pouted as he tossed the ham and cheese at Jackson, "not if they don't think anything's wrong."

He held up Jackson's phone, which displayed a message he had sent to Jackson's father to explain the boy's absence.

They sat in awkward silence for a moment as Jackson seethed in anger.

"You're the kanima, Jackson," Stiles declared, waving his arms around, "you go around slaughtering people with poisonous claws and scaly green skin. It's pretty horrifying, if you ask me."

"Scales?" Jackson scoffed, "Like a fish?"

"No," he sighed, "more like a reptile, uh, and your claws have this liquid that paralyzes people, and you have a tail."

"I have a tail?" at this point Jackson looked more annoyed than anything else.

"Yeah, you do," Stiles nodded and stretched out his legs.

"Does it do anything?" the blonde asked.

"No," Stiles shook his head thoughtfully, "not that I know of."

"Can I use it to strangle you?" Jackson snarled, lunging forward and clanging the chains that bounded him together loudly.

"God, you still don't believe us," Stiles frowned, "all right. The night of the semi-final game, what did you do right after?"

"I went home," Jackson insisted.

"Are you sure about that?" Stiles challenged.

"Yes, you idiot," Jackson groaned, "What the hell else would I do?"

"You attacked Celeste, Derek, and I at the school," Stiles explained, "and you trapped us in the pool. You also killed a mechanic -right in front of me and Celeste by the way, that was lovely – and one of Argent's hunters. Oh, and last night, you tried to kill Danny."

Jackson's oceanic eyes flitted over to Celeste, but the girl kept silent, averting her gaze.

"Why would I want to kill my best friend?" Jackson returned his attention to Stiles.

"Well," Stiles shrugged, "that's what Scott's out trying to figure out right now."

"Maybe what he should be figuring out," Jackson growled, "is how he's going to pay for a lawyer when I prosecute your asses all the way to jail."

Celeste flinched back violently at his tone, and she could have sworn she saw something close to guilt in the boy's eyes when he noticed her reaction.

"Alright," Stiles tensed, "well tell me this: on the night of the first full moon, what happened?"

"Nothing," Jackson admitted, his stance falling minutely, "nothing happened."

Stiles decided to leave him on that note, getting up and heading towards the exit.

"Cel?" he asked, noticing the girl didn't move, "Let's get some fresh air."

"Just give me a minute," she tried to smile at him reassuringly.

"I don't think-,"

"Just a minute, Stiles," she pleaded with him.

His jaw clenched, but he nodded and got out of the van anyway, hesitantly closing the door behind him.

"You going to accuse me of murder, too?" Jackson snapped at her.

Celeste didn't even blink, leveling her gaze to meet his crazed eyes.

"Well?" Jackson grew impatient, and began to raise his voice, "come on."

She listened to him with attentive ears, heard every crack and waver of sound around them as his voice grew hoarse.

She watched with unblinking eyes as he clenched his fists together until his knuckles seared white, and flinched slightly as he lunged at her in misplaced aggression.

She waited until he was a crumpled mess, his spirit more damaged than his hoarse throat and his eyes pleading with her to yell, to emit physical evidence of some sort of feeling inside her and pick up where he left off.

Instead, her pink lips parted ever so slightly and she spoke in a voice free of tremor or turmoil.

"I have a Beta fish."

He looked at her sharply, and his hallowed eyes pierced through the cloud of haze and anger to focus on her words.

"He's a fighting fish. It's in his genetic make-up to fight for survival, even in his safe little tank on my kitchen counter," she elaborated in the same, steady tone, "I actually have two, but this guy, he established himself as the alpha fish almost immediately."

He sent her a withering gaze, clueless as to the point of her anecdote, his chest still stirring with the angry wings of moths flapping against his heart and trying to get him to react.

"He was becoming complacent without the competition," she continued, "so we bought him a little mirror."

"That's great, really fucking terrific," he snapped sardonically, "but I kind of have more impor-,"

He was silenced by a single tick of her finger, proving that, despite the situation, he still respected and cared for her as his equal.

"He uses the mirror to exercise, because when he sees himself, he simply sees another opponent, he doesn't register that it's his own reflection."

He swallowed back a lump in his throat, the slightest bit of recognition sparking in his chaotic mind.

"And so he puffs himself up and rams into the mirror, hoping to establish dominance. However, every action has an equal and opposite reaction, and he is finally met with a force he cannot beat. And you know what? He will never win, fighting against his own reflection, he will never be able to become stronger than himself. By seeing himself as his greatest enemy, he's only inflicting damage upon his own body."

"So what?" he snarled, but her sharp ears picked up on the quietest of whimpers beneath his words, "Are you calling me a fish?"

"I'm calling you a fighter," she whispered out, but each syllable and uptake hit him hard against the chest and pierced through him like tiny lightning bolts, "I'm telling you to look for yourself in the mirror."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Wow, okay, this was really hard for me to write.

I'm sorry if it seemed as though I brushed over the club scene, but with everything that happened in Orlando, it was excruciating for me to write something so similar, even in fiction.

Maybe when the wounds aren't so fresh I'll go back and add more detail, but right now I really just can't. Sorry.

ON A BRIGHTER NOTE!! I made a book of extras for this story, because things are about to get real sad.

It's called 'Celestial', and you can find it on my profile. I currently only have her very firsts texts with everyone in the pack up, but I have a lot planned. (Including but not limited to: a very fluffy Christmas one shot, a peek into what I cut out of Stiles and Celeste's arcade date, and an AU Cisaac one shot for all my suffering Cisaac fans out there.)

Love you all so much and stay hydrated,

-belle xx