Beacon Hills never really slept. Even on quiet nights, there was a subtle hum of life, of secrets creeping between the trees. But this night… this night was different.
Stiles Stilinski barreled through the woods, flashlight shaking in his hand. "Scott! Come on! My dad said they found—no, wait—they found half a corpse out here!"
Scott groaned behind him. "Why do we even have to go looking for it? The cops—"
"Because, Scott McCall," Stiles interrupted, stopping abruptly to point at a patch of rustling bushes, "I have a very specific obsession with not dying alone in the woods! You know… survival, fun, stuff like that."
Scott rolled his eyes. "You've literally done this before. Like, a hundred times."
Before Stiles could argue, the forest stilled. Not the usual rustles. Not even a squirrel dared breathe. It was… unnatural.
Then he appeared.
Tall. Lean. Perfect. His hair caught the moonlight in a subtle shimmer, like someone had painted silver threads into black silk. His eyes glowed faintly gold, piercing, intelligent, and impossibly calm. Every step was deliberate, every movement perfectly measured. The air seemed to bend around him, almost as if the forest itself recognized that this was not an ordinary being.
Stiles froze. Scott froze.
The man's gaze swept over them, assessing, calculating, and somehow weighing their worth. One look and your brain short-circuited. His presence wasn't just felt. It was absorbed. Magnetic, terrifying, intoxicating.
"Evening," he said, voice smooth as silk yet layered with authority and amusement. "I hope I'm not interrupting."
Stiles' eyes widened. "…Okay, Scott? Yeah… I think we should definitely run."
Scott whispered, "Stiles… he doesn't smell human."
The stranger smiled faintly. "Correct. I am not."
"You're… not what?" Stiles stammered, gripping his flashlight like a lifeline.
"Human," the man said simply. "Not in the way you understand the word. I am… older. Stronger. Dangerous, depending on your choices."
Stiles' pulse skyrocketed. He wanted to flee. To scream. To collapse. But his legs were frozen. "…Great. Totally reassuring."
"Allow me to introduce myself," the man said, bowing slightly, perfectly composed. "I am… Lucien Veyron. But you may call me whatever suits your comprehension."
Scott's eyes narrowed. "Lucien… what kind of name is that?"
Stiles muttered, "…Scott, don't."
Lucien's lips curved into a subtle, knowing smile. "Names are irrelevant, but you may call me Lucien. It is concise. Elegant. True, like everything else about me."
---
The Forest Responds
The forest itself reacted. Birds went silent. Deer froze mid-step. Wolves in the distance stopped howling. Every creature that could sense supernatural activity hesitated. Even Scott could feel it — not just power, not just danger… ancientness.
"You're… glowing," Scott said quietly, eyes scanning him. "Or at least your eyes. Something about them…"
Lucien tilted his head, amused. "Perceptive. I like that. Most humans notice too late, if at all."
"And most humans run screaming," Stiles added. "Which we were about to do, but now we're standing here like idiots."
Lucien chuckled softly. "I do not bite… usually. But I do enjoy chaos."
Stiles froze. "…Chaos?"
"Yes. And in this little town, in these woods… there will be plenty. You are standing on the edge of something you cannot yet comprehend."
Scott stepped forward slightly. "Maybe we should call someone."
Lucien's eyes flicked to Scott, amused. "Eventually, you will. But for now… observation."
---
First Night — Thoughts Inside the Head
Later that night, Stiles lay awake, tossing and turning. And then he heard it. Not from outside. Not from a whisper in the room. But inside him.
"Well… this is awkward."
Stiles bolted upright. "…Who said that?!"
"Me. Relax. I'm not here to hurt you."
Stiles scrambled out of bed. "…Oh, wonderful. I'm insane now too."
"Nope. Just sharing the universe with me. Lucky you."
"What the hell are you?"
"Lucien Veyron," came the answer, calm, perfectly arrogant. "A hybrid of everything dangerous, charming, intelligent, and terrifying. In short: fabulous."
Stiles blinked. "…Fabulous?"
"Exactly. Look at me. You're welcome."
He shuffled to the mirror and nearly fell backward. The reflection wasn't human. Not exactly. It radiated power, authority, and danger — terrifyingly beautiful, the kind of presence that could stop a room without moving. "…I… can't even…"
"Exactly. Welcome to my world. Now, try not to scream."
---
Next Day at Beacon Hills High
The next morning, the halls were buzzing. Lucien walked through the school like the world belonged to him — and, perhaps, it did. Students stared. Whispers flew. Teachers paused mid-step.
Allison Argent narrowed her eyes. "Who… is that?"
Lydia Martin shivered subtly. "…Not human. Not even… normal."
Scott sniffed the air. "Something's wrong. But… right."
Stiles muttered under his breath: "…Main boss from a video game just walked into school. Yep. That's my life."
Lucien's eyes flicked to Stiles, and Stiles felt the pull immediately. Somehow, he knew Lucien had already noticed him.
"Relax. I only bite metaphorically," Lucien whispered in his head.
Stiles almost dropped his soda. "…Why is this happening?"
"Spoiler: you don't get a choice."
Even the first day, subtle signs of his harem potential were already in motion:
Allison kept glancing, intrigued and cautious.
Lydia felt awe mixed with fear.
Minor supernatural creatures hesitated around him.
"Fun is coming," Lucien said inside Stiles' head. "By fun, I mean chaos, flirting, hunting… and maybe blood."
"…I hate you already," Stiles muttered.
"Love you later."
---
First Night Patrol
By evening, Lucien joined Scott and Stiles in the woods. Stiles' flashlight barely lit the trail, but Lucien's presence bent the shadows in unnatural ways.
"How do you… exist?" Scott asked cautiously.
"I have been everywhere. Seen everything. Survived everything. Including humans who try too hard," Lucien said, smirking faintly.
Stiles whispered: "…Oh. Stiles-level sass… but terrifying."
The patrol ended without incident, but Stiles felt it — a ripple, a subtle pull in reality. Lucien was more than power; he was future compressed into a single being.
"We're going to have fun," Lucien whispered in Stiles' mind.
"…I hate you already," Stiles muttered.
"Love you later."
---
Subtle Humor and Banter
In the cafeteria, Lucien sat observing. Stiles leaned close.
"Don't do that stare-everyone-down thing. You look like a predator inspecting ants," he whispered.
Lucien smirked. "I can't help it. Fascinating chaos. The ignorance. And your friends. Most are acceptable."
"Great. My life just got infinitely weirder," Stiles muttered. "…I hate you."
"Patience," Lucien said. "Chaos. Fun. And maybe flirting. Welcome to my world, Stilinski."
---
Hints of Powers
Objects trembled near him.
Animals reacted violently nearby.
Shadows bent unnaturally.
Eyes occasionally glimmered gold when amused or annoyed.
Stiles noticed, worried. "…So… fight or die, or…?"
"Neither. Observation first. Fun second. Survival… optional."