#bitter vicious stiles

[sterekcraptrash]

i read down by contact again 🏈📚📝

[voidstilesplease]

Bonfires

Demigod AU Ficlet [4]

Theo

"Tomorrow evening is Capture the Flag."

Theo draws his eyebrows at the new guy with green eyes and strong jaw as he addresses the demigods gathered for the nightly campfire. He looks only a little older than some of the senior counselors in Camp Half-Blood, but it's the first time Theo has seen him since arriving almost a week ago. 

Chiron is at the side with Mr. D -the camp's director- listening as the new guy takes the center. Well, at least, Chiron is. Mr. D -also known as Dionysus, the god of wine and madness- is slumped in his seat, looking bored of the world as he takes sip after sip of coke, done with being sober. Theo sympathizes; he's the god of wine who is forbidden to lick a drop of it. It's negating his entire existence.

When Theo first found out that an actual Olympian runs the camp (as punishment from Zeus), he almost didn't believe it. Then, he woke up one day to half of the Hermes and Apollo cabins dangling in grapevines because they got caught playing tricks against each other that ultimately resulted in children of Hermes spouting the worst haikus and children of Apollo screaming from itch powder. Mr. D despises haikus and over-the-top screeching. 

He's also frequently away to Olympus nowadays, for some reason, so Theo's wariness around the god ebbed just a little. The Ares cabin also likes pulling stunts on the Apollo bunch; they are too golden and dramatic.

Theo leans to Fred on his right and nods toward the talking figure, "Who's the new guy?"

It takes a second for his head counselor to realize what he means, "Oh, him? That's Derek Hale, a son of Poseidon," Fred turns to Theo, voice low as to not interrupt the guy's speech. "He was a camper here. Then he attended Camp Jupiter in New Rome for college."

Theo nods in reverie, remembering Stiles's study guide and how it has a section dedicated to Roman gods and goddesses and an introduction to another demigod camp called Camp Jupiter.

"He's a trainer now and helps Chiron manage the camp's summer activities," Fred continues, facing front. "He's cool. He usually sides with Ares during games."

"Why is that?"

"Athena and Poseidon also have a bit of rivalry," Fred explains, curling his lips downward. "But when he left, Cora always went with the other team. He's attached to the hip with Stiles," the head counselor gives him a sideways glance. "You've met him. He's the Athena kid assigned for introductory lessons to the new campers."

At the mention of Stiles, Theo finds himself scanning the crowd for the face attached to the name. He's on the other side, seated with his half-siblings, who are owlishly attentive to the trainer's words. Only Stiles can't settle his eyes on Derek -almost pointedly avoiding eye contact. He also looks sulky.

"Yeah," Theo murmurs, attention on the scowl on Stiles's face. His lips tug at the memory of their official meeting earlier. The boy was nothing like his siblings have told him: an arrogant, pain in the ass know-it-all. Stiles is smart, sharp, and intimidating for those who can't accept that he can outsmart them. "I've met him."

"-lastly," Derek's voice becomes distinct again, taking Theo off his musings. "Ares will lead the red team, while Athena takes blue. Fred from cabin five," he waves a hand to the Ares cabin counselor beside Theo as he speaks, "is the captain for red." Derek turns to the Athena circle to his right, a hesitant look crossing his expression. He clears his throat, "And, um, Haley?"

Haley, the blonde cabin six counselor, smiles. She points a finger to Stiles on her side. The boy finally lifts his head to meet Derek's eyes, defiant in the tilt of his chin and steely eyes. It's like he's daring Derek Hale to say something vicious. Even some of Stiles's siblings exchange private looks, twitching. 

"I'm putting Stiles in charge again, Derek," Haley tells him confidently. "He did such an exceptional job last summer."

Fred scoffs beside Theo; it sounds bitter.

Derek takes a moment to speak, quietly assessing Stiles. The Athena boy doesn't back down, either. He allows Derek to examine him, cocking his head to the side and raising a brow. Derek purses his lips, in the end, breaking the eye contact first. He sighs and turns back to the general audience. "Very well. The game begins at 9:00 pm tomorrow, Friday. Good luck."

With those parting words from Derek, the real campfire festivities commence. The Apollo cabin takes center stage, and they begin singing one of the camp's songs, Down by the Aegean, for which the lyrics are on the guide for new campers. 

Even though the haikus are pretty bad, the Apollo cabin is undeniably well with the singing and playing instruments. Soon, many are dancing, and roasting s'mores, and chanting along to different campfire songs as cabin seven initiate them. The magical flames of the bonfire are rising high and glowing gold as a reflection of the campers' exhilaration.

Chiron and Mr. D excuse early, expressions impassive, and leave the campers to Derek. 

Theo mingles with the usual crowd: Aphrodite, Apollo, Nemesis, and Hecate cabins, to name a few. They're also allies of Ares' cabin for the coming game. Now and then, however, his eyes roam the crowd in search of one other face. Theo immediately finds him every time, sometimes amidst the brood of Hermes, laughing with the children of the forges, in some debate with a Nike girl, and then dancing with Cora Hale by the fire. He's well-liked and respected, making his cabin's grudge against his brilliance even more amusing to Theo.

Fred catches him toasting his goblet of nectar to Stiles when they finally meet each other's eyes while he animatedly discusses a strategy to Theo. He cuts mid-sentence, follows Theo's line of vision, and groans. "No, no,"

Theo faces Fred, confused. "What?"

Fred gives him a disapproving look, "You're not actually into Stiles, are you?" He pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in resignation. He mutters under his breath, but Theo hears it all the same. "I should not have jinxed that."

When Fred drops his hand, he narrows his eyes at Theo. "Whatever. I can't blame you, anyway," he brings up a finger, meant to be menacing. "But you have to promise to maim him if need be tomorrow night. I cannot lose to a rookie two times in a row."

Theo raises a brow, "He's not a rookie anymore," he points out.

Fred presses his lips together, unimpressed.

Theo laughs, "Fine. If he doesn't maim me first."

Fred snorts, shaking his head, and then pats Theo's back twice. "I have to go talk to the co-captain. See you,"

When Fred is about ten paces away, Theo calls him. The senior counselor whirls around, expectant. Theo smirks and says in a loud voice that many, if not everyone, can surely hear. "Stiles says to remind you how you hung upside-down while he pried the flag and your dignity along with it from your clutch last summer."

Two beats of stunned silence pass, Fred's face turning a violent shade of red before the roaring laughter from the campers drown out Fred's furious, embarrassed snarl as he tackles Theo to the ground.

"Screw you, Theo Raeken!"

But Theo is laughing as he fights back. 

~•~

[1][2][3][companion]

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

You found me at my lowest, when I needed you the most

There haven’t been wolves in Beacon Hills for sixty years, but Stiles finds one; a lone, feral wolf, injured and in need of help.

For @masterpostsmakemehappy​

(Read it on AO3 here)

The wolf clung to the shadows as he wove through the undergrowth, limping as he dragged his wounded leg behind him. His thick black fur was slick with blood; ruby-red droplets falling among the dry autumn leaves.

Searing pain overwhelmed him, his mind growing foggy as he collapsed to the ground. He fell onto the cushion of damp leaves and piles of rotting flesh which littered the forest floor.

He lifted his head, looking around at the forest. The usual autumn tones of brown, gold and red were darkened by the night, now a dreary mix of greys and heavy black shadows. Dense foliage hung overhead, filtered streams of silver light surrounded him seeping through the canopy and dancing across the ground.

Among the darkness he could make out the fluorescent bleached skeletons of the birch trees, their slender trunks lining the shadows as eye-like rings watched him from all angles.

His eyes grew heavy, his head resting against the twisted root of a large stump of an ancient tree that looked as if it had been cut down decades ago, the cracks and crevices full of moss and twiggy shrubs.

He felt so weak, so cold.

He let his eyes fall shut, his body weakening as the darkness crept in, pulling him down into oblivion.

...

Stiles felt the cool autumn air bite at his cheeks as he buried his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He dragged his feet through the dew-dampened grass as he stepped out of the parking lot of the reserve and passed the metal railings that fenced it off, glistening with crystal-like droplets of water that clung to them as they caught the light of the rising sun.

He wandered down the track that wove through the woods on the outskirts of town.

He just needed a moment to get away from it all; he just needed a moment to himself.

He breathed in the sweet scent of the damp earth, walking further and further into the reserve.

It looked different in the fall. The grass was brown and dying, the wild flowers had wilted, and the trees were stripped of their leaves, covering the ground in a blanket of brown, yellow, red and gold. It was different, but still beautiful.

He came upon a small clearing, his feet falling still as his eyes fell upon the large tree stump in the centre of the open space. He’d walked the same path almost every day for years, but he had never seen it before.

The stump looked to be centuries old, but felled a long time ago. The twisted roots were buried deep in the ground, cracks and crevices of the aged bark were filled with green moss. Small brushes grew between the roots, their branches bare, twisted, wiry and dry.

But it was what lay among the roots that made his blood run cold in his veins.

The dark shape lay still, its body cradled in the curve of the twisted roots. The thick black fur was matted and damp from the morning dew.

Stiles took a step forward, cautiously edging closer to the figure to get a closer look and confirm his suspicions; it was a wolf.

“Why didn’t you find a den?” Stiles whispered, more so to himself than the wolf. “And what are you doing here?”

He knelt down on the blanket of damp, decaying leaves and watched as the wolf’s chest rose and fell with weak breaths.

He’s still alive, Stiles thought, breathing out a sigh of relief.

His eyes were drawn to the wolf’s hind leg where his ash-black fur was darker than the rest of his body, clumped together and stained with a slick substance.

Stiles carefully reached out, touching his fingertips to the wolf’s wet fur. They came away slick. He slowly turned his hand around to look at his fingers.

Red.

Blood.

Stiles’ eyes flew open wide. He wiped his hand on his jeans and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out his phone as he scrolled through his contacts and pressed ‘call’.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Stiles muttered impatiently.

Scott answered on the fourth ring, his voice slow and lethargic. “Stiles? Do you know what time it is?”

“I need your help,” Stiles said hastily. “This is going to sound insane but there’s an injured wolf in the reserve.”

“Stiles, there aren’t any wolves in Beacon Hills,” Scott replied. “It’s probably a stray dog.”

“I know there aren’t any wolves in Beacon Hills, and there hasn’t been for over sixty years, but I’m telling you, I’m looking at one right now and he’s hurt,” Stiles snapped, growing impatient. “He needs help. Scott, please.”

Scott let out an impatient sigh. Stiles heard him shuffling about, shoving back the blankets and getting out of bed. “What do you mean he’s hurt?”

“His leg’s bleeding,” Stiles replied. “It looks like he’s been in a fight, or shot, or maybe he stepped in a fox trap or something—I don’t know. The important thing to note is that he’s bleeding heavily and he’s not moving.”

“Is it alive?”

“He’s breathing,” Stiles answered. “But he’s asleep.”

“Okay, I’ll come to the reserve and help you move him,” Scott said. “I’ll call Deaton and let him know we’re bringing in a—”

“A wolf,” Stiles confirmed.

“—a wolf,” Scott conceded. “I’ll be here in a few minutes. Call me if he wakes up in the meantime.”

“Okay,” Stiles agreed. He felt the knot of tension in his chest subside a bit, his voice softening as he added, “Scotty?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Scott said before hanging up.

Stiles slid the phone back into his jacket pocket and sat down beside the wolf. He let out a steady breath, slowly reaching out and set his hand down on the wolf’s side. He felt his hand rise and fall with the slow, steady breaths.

The wolf’s ears twitched slightly, but his eyes didn’t open.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” Stiles said softly, threading his fingers through the wolf’s soft, damp fur, “but if you can, I’m going to get you help.”

There was a loud crack as a stick broke underfoot behind him.

Stiles spun around, his eyes wide as he searched the woods that were lit by the dim morning light.

The footsteps grew louder, closer, moving faster among the underbrush.

Stiles rose to his feet, standing defensively over the wolf as he searched the shadows.

A familiar face appeared from among the trees.

Stiles let out a sigh of relief as Scott stepped into the clearing, a satchel slung over one shoulder as he hurried over to Stiles’ side.

“How is he?” Scott asked, shrugging off the satchel and setting it down by the twisted roots.

“He still hasn’t woken up,” Stiles replied.

Scott took a quick look at the wound. He dug through his bag and pulled out wadding and bandages, packing the wound the best he could.

“Okay, help me carry him out of here,” Scott said, moving to lift the wolf off the ground. “Did you drive here?”

“No, I walked,” Stiles answered.

“Okay, we’ll take my car,” Scott said. He laid a large sheet across the forest floor. “Help me lift him onto the sheet and we’ll use it as a stretcher to carry him out of here.”

Stiles helped Scott move the wolf.

“God, you’re heavy,” Stiles grunted as they lifted the wolf off the blanket of damp leaves and onto the sheet.

They carried the wolf out of the woods and into the parking lot. They set him down for a moment so Scott could open the back of the four wheel drive.

“Climb in the back and we’ll lift him up,” Scott instructed.

“Wait, why am I getting in the back?”

“Because I need you to sit with him and tell me if there’s any change in his condition,” Scott answered.

“Wouldn’t it be better if you did and I drove?” Stiles asked. “I mean, if something changes, you could do something about it.”

Scott levelled him with an exasperated look. “Just get in the car.”

“Okay.”

Stiles clambered into the back of the four wheel drive, helping Scott lift the wolf into the back of the car and laying him down on the blankets Scott had laid out. He positioned himself near the wolf’s head, gently petting his scruff.

Scott closed the door and hurried around the car to the driver’s seat, starting the engine and reversing out of the parking lot.

“It’s going to be okay,” Stiles whispered, gently patting the wolf.

The wolf’s ears twitched slightly; listening.

“You’re going to be okay, I promise.”

...

Stiles stood in the corner of the operating room, shifting nervously from foot to foot. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, trying to ignore the bitter, metallic smell of blood that filled his senses. He’d cast a few glances at where Scott and Deaton stood by the operating table, watching as the vet stitched up the wound.

They’d decided against putting him under anaesthesia; the wolf was already unconscious and unresponsive and in such a fragile state that he may not have woken up after surgery.

Stiles watched as the wolf lay still, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

“All done,” Deaton said, setting down his tools and reaching for a bandage.

A patch of his raven-black fur had been shaved off, exposing his pale skin and the line of stitches that marked where they’d operated.

Deaton tenderly wrapped the bandage around his leg.

“What was wrong with him?” Stiles asked, taking a step closer.

“He was shot,” Deaton answered. “The bullet went through and through. He’s lucky it didn’t hit the bone; it would’ve broken his leg and he wouldn’t have gotten away from whoever shot him.”

Deaton looked over at Stiles.

“He’s lucky you found him when you did,” Deaton said. “He wouldn’t have survived if you hadn’t.”

Without warning, the wolf bolted upright with a start. He scrambled to his feet, standing atop the operating table and towering over them. He raised his hackles and pinned back his ears, baring his ivory-white teeth in a vicious snarl. He snapped at Deaton and Scott, letting out a low threatening growl as his pale green eyes darted around the room.

“Stay back,” Deaton warned, trying to keep his voice calm and level. “Scott, get the ketamine.”

Scott moved slowly, edging towards the table with his equipment on it.

The wolf whipped his head around, growling at him.

“Whoa,” Stiles said, taking a step towards his friend defensively.

The wolf turned to look at him, his growl dying away, but his lips still pulled back in a snarl.

“Easy,” Stiles said softly, taking another step towards the wolf. He kept his hands up as he edged closer to the canine. “No one’s going to hurt you. You’re safe here.”

The wolf snapped at him.

Stiles staggered back, his eyes still focused on the wolf; startled but not scared.

“We’re just trying to help you,” Stiles continued.

“You do realise he can’t understand you, right?” Scott said between gritted teeth, making another attempt to subtly reach for the ketamine.

The wolf turned on him, letting out a fierce growl.

Scott backed up, the cold metal edges of the shelving digging into his back as he tried to get as far away as he could.

Stiles took another step forward.

The wolf turned to face him, teeth bared and his eyes glaring at Stiles intensely.

Stiles held his composure, his pulse drumming in his ears and his heart hammering against his ribs.

“It’s okay,” Stiles said, his voice soft. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

The wolf seemed to calm down, straightening his back and raising his ears. He tilted his head slightly, looking at Stiles with curiosity.

Stiles took another step forward, tentatively holding out a hand the way you would to a strange dog.

The wolf sniffed his hand, and – apparently deciding Stiles wasn’t a threat – calmed down. He laid down on the table, resting his head on his front paws as Stiles took another step forward and gently petted the scruff of his neck.

The three of them let out a collective sigh of relief, the tension in the room subsiding as Scott and Deaton watched Stiles pat the wolf.

“Crisis averted,” Deaton started slowly. “Now, onto our next problem.”

“What’s that?” Stiles asked, his heart spiking slightly.

“We don’t have any cages to hold an animal of his size, nor do we have a dog run that we can hold him in,” Deaton said. “But in his state, we can’t release him into the wild yet.”

“I have a dog run,” Stiles volunteered. “My dad used to foster dogs for the K9 unit or retiring army dogs.”

Deaton nodded, watching the way the teen interacted with the canine.

“He seems to have taken a liking to you,” Deaton said. “Perhaps it would be best if you took him in while he recovers.”

“One problem,” Stiles said. “My dad wouldn’t let me have a dog, what makes you think he’ll let me have a wolf?”

...

Stiles sat in the back seat of the car, looking into the back of the four wheel drive where the wolf laid, his head lifted and looking out the window; alert. They’d loosely tied a length of rope around the wolf’s neck and fastened to the back of the car.

Deaton had spoken to the Sheriff and he had agreed to let Stiles bring the wolf home and keep him in the dog run while he recovered.

The car slowed as it pulled up before Stiles’ house.

The wolf perked up, struggling to his feet as he looked out the rear windows.

Scott turned off the engine and climbed out of the car. Stiles followed. They stepped around to the back of the car and opened the back doors.

Stiles untied the rope, gently coaxing the wolf out of the car and onto the pavement. He walked him around to the back gate, pulling up the latch and pushing it open. He led the wolf into the backyard and over to the large fenced off dog run in the corner of the yard.

There was a large kennel in the corner with an old blanket laid across the bottom of it, a sheltered section, a bowl full of water, some trees and shrubs, and a few old dog toys.

Stiles walked the wolf into the dog run, kneeling before him as he untied the length of rope from around his neck. He stepped out of the run and shut the gate, watching as the wolf began to pace around the length of the fence, limping slightly as he inspected his surroundings.

“I’ll buy some food for him – meat, fish, rabbit if I’m lucky – and drop it off after work,” Scott told him.

Stiles nodded, his eyes focused on the wolf and his mind racing.

“What?” Scott asked.

“Wolves are social animals,” Stiles reminded him. “So why was he alone? Where’s his pack?”

“I don’t know,” Scott said quietly. He was silent for a moment. “I’d better get going. You all set?”

“Yeah,” Stiles replied.

Scott patted his shoulder.

“Let me know if anything changes. I’ll see you later,” he farewelled, making his way back out the side gate and shutting it behind himself.

Once he was gone, the wolf seemed to settle—still uneasy, but not pacing. He slowly wandered over to where Stiles stood and looked up at him with inquisitive green eyes.

“There’s something strange about you,” Stiles mused. “I just can’t put my finger on it.”

Stiles backed up, heading towards the back door and making his way inside the house.

...

The light of day began to fade, the sun lighting the sky with streaks of vibrant colours as it sank beneath the horizon. The icy chill of the autumn breeze rolled through the streets, rustling the trees, stirring the leaves, and frosting over the windows.

The Sheriff was working late; he’d sent Stiles a message saying he was pulling overtime to help with a case and wouldn’t be home until the morning.

Stiles looked at the back door, watching as the window pane misted over. His thoughts drifted to the wolf; he was out there, alone and cold.

“No,” he told himself. “Dad will kill me.”

His eyes wandered back to the door.

He let out a heavy sigh, cursing under his breath as he rose to his feet and headed towards the back door. He grabbed the length of rope from where he’d put it earlier, shoving open the back door and making his way out to the dog run.

The dim light from the back porch lit the yard, stretching as far into the darkness as it could.

The chain link fence rattled as he pulled open the gate, stepping into the run and looking around.

Stiles looked about, trying to find the wolf. He took a few cautious steps forward, craning his neck to look inside the kennel.

There was a low growl, deep and threatening. The light caught the canine’s eyes, making them glow. His lips were curled back, exposing his ivory-white teeth.

“Easy boy,” Stiles said softly, crouching down on the damp grass. “I’m gonna take you inside where it’s warm, okay?”

The growl died away, but the wolf didn’t come out of the kennel.

“Come on, man,” Stiles pleaded. “It’s freezing out here.”

The wolf tentatively stepped forward, looking at Stiles with scepticism.

Stiles looked down at the length of rope in his hands and then back up at the wolf, watching as the creature’s eyes darted back and forth between Stiles and the rope.

“Okay, fine. You don’t have to put the rope on,” Stiles bargained, rising to his feet. “Come on.”

Stiles made his way out of the dog run, leaving the gate open as he led the way to the back porch and up the couple of steps to the back door.

The wolf lingered behind, taking a few steps at a time—cautious. Finally, he gathered the courage to follow Stiles, crossing the back yard and making his way up the steps.

Stiles opened the back door and the wolf stepped inside the house, shaking off the cold dampness of the night air.

“Okay, if you’re going to stay inside, we’re going to have to lay down some ground rules,” Stiles said, looking the wolf in the eye. “Rule number one: don’t chew on the furniture—my dad would kill me if he came home to half eaten chairs and shredded cushions. Rule number two: no peeing on anything. Rule number three: you’re not allowed up on the furniture. And rule number four: upstairs is out of bounds; you have free roam of downstairs, but you’re not allowed upstairs, okay?”

The wolf tilted its head.

“In good faith, I’m just going to assume that you understood me,” Stiles said, stepping past the wolf. “I’m heading off to bed,” he said, switching off the lights. “Please, just… don’t destroy anything while I’m asleep.”

The wolf stayed where he was by the back door.

“Okay,” Stiles said, shifting awkwardly. “Well… Goodnight.”

Stiles made his way upstairs and into his room, leaving the door ajar as he changed out of his clothes and into his pyjamas. He crawled into bed, pulled the blanket up over his shoulders, and reached for the light switch beside his bed when he heard the sound of paws padding at the stairs, growing closer.

“No,” Stiles said warningly.

He rolled over in his bed, watching as the large silhouette of the wolf crept into the opening of his bedroom door, the light reflecting in his eyes as he narrowed his gaze on Stiles.

“That’s terrifying,” Stiles told him, trying to settle his racing heartbeat. “I’m going to have nightmares now.”

The wolf stepped over to the side of his bed, resting his head on the edge of the mattress, almost as if he were asking for permission.

“No,” Stiles said firmly.

The wolf let out a heavy huff, a quiet whimper catching in his throat.

“Ugh, fine,” Stiles relented. “Come on.”

The wolf climbed up onto the bed, curling up at Stiles’ feet and looking at him with bright aventurine eyes.

“What?” Stiles asked, looking the wolf in the eye. “Penny for my thoughts?”

The wolf tilted his head to one side, his ears perking up with curiosity.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles sighed, his voice quiet as he dropped his gaze. “I haven’t been myself lately. I’ve been so caught up in my head, trying to work things out.”

The wolf looked at him, listening.

“I’m bisexual,” Stiles said outright. “I haven’t told anyone—I don’t know how to—and I’m… I’m scared to.”

Stiles let out a dejected sigh, bowing his head.

“What’s more… I’m lonely,” he said quietly. “I mean, I have my dad and Scott, but they’re always busy. I end up spending so much time alone and it just reminds me of how lonely I am. Especially when it’s because of a date; it’s just a reminder that I don’t have someone like that in my life. Being bisexual, you’d think I’d have twice the odds, but apparently not… No one wants me.”

The wolf let out a sigh, laying down on the bed and resting his head beside Stiles’ hand.

Stiles reached out and gently petted his head.

“I guess you and I are two of a kind, huh?” Stiles mused. “We’re not meant to be alone, and yet here we are.”

The wolf shifted his head, letting it rest in Stiles’ lap.

A soft smile turned up the corners of Stiles’ lips as he ran his fingers through the wolf’s soft fur. He lay back against his pillows, switching off the light beside his bed and slipping into sleep.

 ...

A broken cry startled him awake.

The wolf sat upright, listening as the quiet, strained whimper filled the darkness.

Stiles thrashed about, his body entangled in his blankets, his cheeks dampened by tears, and his heart hammering against his ribs.

The wolf shuffled forward, resting his head on the boy’s chest.

Stiles started to settle, the tension easing from his body. His breathing slowed and his racing heartbeat calmed down; steady.

He stayed there, watching Stiles for a little while longer; guarding him, protecting him.

He let out a heavy sigh. His eyes grew heavy as he let them fall shut and sleep pulled him under.

...

Stiles groaned, squinting against the glaring light which streamed through the gap in the curtains. He turned his face into the pillow, letting the soft cotton muffle his groan.

He tried to pull the blanket up over himself but it wouldn’t budge. He tugged harder, only to get a disgruntled huff in response.

He blinked open his eyes, looking at the dark figure that laid its head atop of his chest.

The wolf slowly lifted his head, glaring at Stiles disapprovingly.

“I’m sorry. Did I interrupt your beauty sleep?” Stiles said teasingly.

The wolf let out a heavy sigh and seemed to roll his eyes. He turned his head away and yawned before stretching, his paws flexing and kneading the blanket.

Stiles pushed back the blanket and climbed out of bed. He stepped over to his closet, pulling out a pair of jeans, a shirt and a red hoodie. He pulled his jeans on and reached for the hem of his shirt when he froze. He glanced over his shoulder at the wolf.

“I know you’re a wolf and all, but can you not watch me get changed?” Stiles asked.

The wolf let out a huff and turned his head away, letting it rest atop his front paws as he stared out the window.

Stiles got changed quickly and made a start towards the door.

“Come on,” he said softly.

The wolf followed him, climbing down from the bed. He let out a quiet whimper as he set down his wounded leg.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked, slightly panicked. “Does it hurt? Do I need to call Scott?”

The wolf levelled him with an exasperated look, stretching his leg slightly and testing how much weight it could bare. He took a few steps forward, limping slightly as but showing no sign of pain.

“Okay,” Stiles said, leading the way to the door.

He headed downstairs, watching as the wolf carefully padded his way down behind him. He stepped through the large open doorway that led to the dining room, looking through the other doorway into the kitchen.

The Sheriff heard his footsteps, turning to look at his son. His weary hazel eyes fell upon the dark figure that followed Stiles.

“What the—?” the Sheriff yelped.

The wolf bounded forward, putting himself between Stiles and the Sheriff. He let out a feral growl, baring his teeth in a vicious snarl as he readied himself to fight.

“Whoa,” Stiles shouted, stepping between the two of them. He lowered his voice to a quiet whisper. “It’s okay.”

They waited for the wolf to calm down, straightening his back and standing proud.

“I thought you said he’d be in the dog run,” his dad said, voice tense.

“It got cold,” Stiles offered sheepishly.

“He’s a wolf, Stiles,” his father replied. “He’s used to the elements.”

“But he’s injured,” Stiles added.

Sheriff Stilinski let out an exasperated groan and dragged his hand down his weary face. “I should have known you’d bring him home with a bleeding heart.”

The Sheriff shook his head.

“How long did Deaton say it would take for him to heal?” the Sheriff asked.

“A few weeks.”

“He can’t stay inside, Stiles,” his dad said softly. “He’s not domesticated and he needs to keep up his natural instincts.”

“I know,” Stiles said quietly, bowing his head.

The Sheriff let out a heavy sigh.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” he offered. “He can stay inside on cold nights, but he stays out in the dog run the rest of the time, deal?”

“Deal,” Stiles agreed.

...

A few weeks passed.

The wolf spent most nights curled up on the floor beside Stiles’ bed or at his feet. He would sit and listen as Stiles opened up and told him his secrets, and he would comfort him whenever the young man was troubled by nightmares.

But finally the day came that the wolf had to be released.

Scott removed the stitches and checked the canine over.

“He’s in perfect condition,” Scott said proudly.

Stiles nodded solemnly.

“Come on, boy,” Stiles said, tying the old length of rope around the wolf’s neck and leading him out to Scott’s four wheel drive.

He encouraged the wolf into the back, tying off the rope before stepping around the side of the car and climbing into the back seat.

They drove out to the reserve.

Stiles let out a saddened sigh as he untied the rope from the wolf’s neck and stepped back.

The wolf climbed out of the car, lingering for a moment before stepping into the woods and disappearing.

Stiles watched him go, his heart aching as the dark silhouette disappeared into the trees.

Scott gently patted Stiles’ shoulder, not saying a word as they climbed back into the car and drove home.

Stiles nudged open the front door, shutting it behind himself and dropping his keys on the table by the door.

A loud bark broke the silence.

Stiles jumped, his heart leaping into his throat. He followed the sound down the hallway and pushed opened the back door, stepping out onto the porch as he looked at the dark figure that stood in his backyard watching him with bright green eyes.

The wolf.

“You can’t be here, bud,” Stiles said, his heart aching. “You have to go.”

The wolf stepped forward, his body changing as he moved; he rose onto his hind legs, his dark fur morphing into tan skin as he stood tall.

He stood before Stiles; a man with thick black hair and a soft beard that cast a shadow across his jaw. His pale aventurine eyes were focused on Stiles, the light of the evening playing in his irises, changing them from green to blue and hazel. There was a pale scar across his leg.

He was human.

Stiles swallowed hard. “You’re, um…”

“A werewolf,” the man confirmed.

“I was going to say ‘naked’, but yeah. Hang on.”

Stiles raced inside and came back out with a change of clothes. He tossed them to the man.

“Thank you,” the man said quietly, dressing quickly. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“It was Scott and Deaton who patched you up,” Stiles said.

“Perhaps, but it was you who found me, who refused to give up on me, who looked after me,” the man replied. “You helped me remember how to be human.”

“What do you mean helped you remember?” Stiles asked.

“A long time ago, I shifted and ran as far away as I could,” the man explained. “I spent so long shifted, though, that I forgot how to change back.”

The man bowed his head for a second.

“I was running for so long, I forgot what it felt like to be human. You reminded me what that felt like.”

“Wait, does that mean that you understood everything I said?” Stiles asked, a hint of panic in his voice. “Everything I told you?”

The man nodded.

“Oh,” Stiles said, an uneasy feeling of embarrassment settling in to his chest.

“You said it yourself,” the man said, taking a step forward. “We’re two of a kind. We’re not meant to be alone, and yet here we are.”

“Here we are,” Stiles repeated quietly.

Stiles drew in a deep breath, summoning up the last flicker of courage he had.

“I don’t want you to go,” Stiles admitted. “You were the first person I ever felt like I could talk to, the first person I felt comfortable enough to be myself around. I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go,” the man admitted.

Stiles met his gaze.

“I’m Derek,” he introduced himself.

“It’s nice to meet you, Derek.”

[asterekmess]

Scott McCall is the poster boy for entitlement, misogyny and toxic masculinity. Remember when he demanded that Allison goes out with her stalker (Matt) and then yelled at her in the middle of a crowded club because she had the audacity to trust her own father to save Jackson instead of obeying him? Or when Scott pinned Allison against her bedroom’s door and humiliated her just to prove how ‘weak’ and ‘fragile’ she was and because “If I’m scared shitless, then you should be scared shitless too”?

I told my friend Mads a long time ago that with every new fic I put out, my urge to become, if not popular, then just understood as an anti-scott blog got stronger. I mean, it’s not like I want my blog to just be about hating Scoot, but I didn’t really want people to come in and follow me thinking I was a Scott fan, because it would be disingenuous.

I think I got my wish? Either one person has a lot of feelings (which I’m all for) or a bunch of v angry anti-scott people have swarmed over me like hummingbirds on sugar water. It’s a really interesting experience!

Anyway, back to your ask. So, I don’t like Scott, and admittedly sometimes I’m a little extra bitter/hateful than others, but I do try to be accurate in my dislikes of him (usually), so I’ll go through what you said one at a time and try to decipher (from my v faulty memory, so apologies if there are mistakes) if I agree with each statement.

Since some people have requested the Read More thing so they can scroll easier.

Scott is: Entitled. Off the cuff, I would agree. I’ve mentioned before how frustrating it was to see the show attempt to portray him as a poor kid, when he’s nowhere near that. I’ve also seen posts before that explore how Scott doesn’t carry a ‘poor kid’ mentality at all (they probably did it better than me, and it was probably Athenadark who did the analyzing). Growing up, I didn’t consciously know I was poor. Not as in ‘i had everything I needed’ but as in “i assumed all kids grew up occasionally eating a single can of pears for dinner or had to return groceries from the car because their parent’s card was declined and they were out of food stamps or wore a pair of tennis shoes until they were literally taped together with packing tape because we couldn’t afford new ones.” I grew up in a poor town, on the poor side of that town, so there wasn’t a lot that showed me it was possible to live differently. Being poor gives you a specific mentality, and when I finally met kids who were ‘middle class’ I was blown away by the differences. I say all this because Scott is very clearly a middle class kid.

Yes, he has an after school job. Who tf didn’t? That doesn’t automatically make you poor? Even my rich friend got a summer job because she wanted to buy band merch and her parents wouldn’t let her. But have you seen his room? It’s a wreck. We get the scene of him digging under his bed trying to find his phone, and I honestly was kinda disgusted. (I also grew up in a hellhole hoarder house, so clutter fucks me up) It’s not just the messiness though. It’s finding out that his mom is the one doing the laundry. Melissa “One shift won’t break us completely” McCall still cleans her son’s room and does his laundry and sews his clothes even though she’s supposed to be working herself to death at the hospital. Oh, and he’s sixteen years old, so he should be able to do his own fucking laundry? it’s one thing if his stuff ends up there while she’s doing laundry, but apparently she goes out of her way to do his clothes regularly enough that she has no qualms about going in his room to clean? Scott works at a VET’s office and has for long enough that he can put a cast on a dog and feels confident giving it painkillers in the right dosage. And he can’t sew a line of stitches in his clothes? He’s got an ensuite bathroom. His room is clearly the master bedroom. He doesn’t make his mom dinner to bring her, he picks up chinese. And there’s the house itself and its size, etc. Of the two of them, i would’ve expected Stiles to have the messy room. He’s adhd, I know how hard it is to keep a room clean with that kind of headspace. But no, his is really clean most of the time, even his desk, unless he’s researching something specific. I mention Stiles because it’s the comparison of the two that makes Scott’s own messiness stand out. Hell, literally no other bedroom we’re shown is messy in the slightest. Allison’s, Lydia’s, Jackson’s, none of them. (I don’t remember Liam’s room, if we saw it) He feels entitled enough to take up extra space and add extra work to his mother’s stress level (which, listen, I’m not saying being not-poor makes you entitled. I’m saying that the show makes the claim Scott IS poor and he Still does these things. THAT is the entitled part.)

Then there’s his relationship with Stiles. “Yeah, but I had you before.” When talking about the good and bad things in his life, he doesn’t even think to mention Stiles as one of the good things. He says he has nothing, just like before. Stiles isn’t even on his radar, even though they’re looking right at each other. Yet we know that Stiles is basically Scott’s only friend. As someone else with very few friends, I can’t imagine saying to my best friend’s face that I have nothing and no one. Let alone if that friend had been keeping me from dying and teaching me how to be a fucking werewolf for months on end. When do we see him worry about Stiles being human and stuck in the middle of all this? Especially in earlier seasons, we never see him say anything like “maybe you should hang back cus’ you’ll get hurt.” Like, we know that Stiles would do it anyway. And we’d get pissed if Scott told Stiles he wasn’t allowed to help because he was human, but that’s because Scott doesn’t get to tell Stiles what to do. We know Stiles finds ways to protect himself when he has to, but Scott never even asks. He never hints at “I’m worried about you and please know I wont’ be mad if you stay away from the fight.” Even Derek shoves Stiles behind him when the kanima shows up. There’s the thing where he warns them ‘if something goes wrong call for me.” But he explicity says that worry is for Allison, even though she has some method of self-defense. Stiles has nothing. Scott never cares enough to think “Maybe we shouldn’t bring him to the rave where there’s gonna be a vicious killing machine that has already tried to attack him once.” One word from Peter “vulnerable” and Scott stalks Allison (and forces Stiles to help him) for a week. But Stiles gets trapped in a pool for hours, scared out of his mind, and Scott never so much as seems to get clingy? He just assumes Stiles will be fine. He feels entitled to Stiles’ help and assistance, without putting any thought into Stiles’ safety. He asks “is it illegal?” not “Will you get in trouble?” He looks at Stiles when he says “I can’t protect anyone” But when was he trying to protect STILES?  Then there’s the part where while he’s ‘under the influence of the wolfsbane whistle’ (A plot point I fucking hate) he drags Stiles down with him and includes him in being nothing. Being no one. He assumes that if he was nothing before the bite, then Stiles must’ve been nothing also. And since Stiles didn’t get bitten, it also implies that Stiles is still nothing. He’s just hanging on Scott’s wolfy coattails. That’s an incredibly entitled viewpoint to have.

Admittedly, we do see some more humble moments with Allison, especially at the beginning of their relationship, where he says “I just wanna make sure I get my second chance” he’s not assuming he’ll get it. Go scott! (I’m not the hugest fan of him asking her out after he’s clearly just done her a massive favor and is keeping her from getting in trouble for hitting a dog, and she’s wearing his SHIRT and she can’t really say no without looking absolutely horrible, but she seemed pretty into him, so I’ll let it go) But once they’re together? I know that most best friends share secrets and private stuff with each other...but Scott tells Stiles so much about his sex life with Allison that Stiles is actually pissed off and kind of disgusted by it. Stiles. Who is supposed to be sex obsessed. Even he thinks that it’s just way too much information. I can’t imagine Allison would be comfortable with Stiles knowing that much about her in bed. (But at the same time, we see Scott tell Stiles that he never wants any more info on Stiles in bed than Stiles’ vague innuendo abt wet dreams, and then he still feels entitled to tell Stiles whatever he wants about him and Allison and won’t listen when Stiles asks him to stop.) When he asks Allison to go out with someone else, there’s so much that makes me both sad and angry. She is confused and scared, and has clearly committed really hard to Scott (enough to go against everything her family wants) and he tells her to go on a date with someone else. Not just that, but to kiss someone else. To kiss Matt, specifically, whom he knows Stiles thinks is really fucking creepy (though, we need to acknowledge that no one knew Matt was stalking Allison.) And she tries to show him that he’s asking for something really fucking weird and uncomfortable. “Kiss him? You mean, like really kiss him?” And even then, he doesn’t think anything is weird about telling his girlfriend (and they are clearly v monogamous. We see how insanely possessive he is of her, losing his shit when she’s just introduced to other guys Lydia knows, after only one date that he bailed from) to kiss someone else, but not kiss them the way she kisses him. He doesn’t ask for any info about the date, doesn’t ask if Allison’s uncomfortable. He just says “Do it.” and expects her to obey. He feel entitled to controlling who she’s with and what she does, without asking her if she’s okay with it. Because I haven’t seen later seasons in a long time, I usually try to stick to the earlier stuff so I’m less likely to say something stupid, but I do remember him scaring her in her bedroom. There’s a lot about that scene to unpack, but in the case of Allison specifically, we see that he still feels entitled to touch her. They are not friends right now. She has not given any hint that she wants to get back together (except asking to talk to him in ep.1). He should not feel like it is in any way okay to touch her at all, let alone hold her still with super strength. But he does. In his mind. She’s Allison, so why wouldn’t he able to touch her?

He also feels entitled to his leadership. We need to make clear that Scott doesn’t do the leadership stuff. He just happens to be the person in the friend group who’s a werewolf. Stiles and Jackson are the ones who go and set Peter on fire after they can’t get ahold of Scott (WHO IS NOW WITH DEREK, and THEREFORE HAS HIS PHONE). (You’re telling me Scott could’ve done the howl thing at any time to find Derek, and he just left him there for a week?) (Also, yes, I know Stiles was also not involved in helping find Derek until Peter made him. I’m annoyed at him too.) What is leadership-worthy about leaving a tortured man on a grate with electric wires plugged into his side and shackles on his wrists until he agrees to help you kill his own uncle (Oh, also, I have Peter feelings and have salty thoughts about the plot of s1, if anyone’s interested)? But let’s say Scott’s leadership comes in Season 2, not at the end of S1. But when exactly does he earn it? When he tells a teenage girl he doesn’t care about the humiliation and pain that led her to taking a bite that would cure her lifelong illness and give her a friend group that she didn’t have to be afraid of or bullied by? When he called a boy who looked him in the eyes and begged for him to keep his wolf secret “Bloodthirsty”? When he dismissed Boyd’s want for the bite, which was a way for him to make friends and feel like he belonged somewhere, as ridiculous? When he damaged Boyd’s workplace in a way that would almost certainly get Boyd in trouble? (You think smashing a massive crater into the middle of the ice rink with his fist didn’t get Boyd yelled at or maybe even fired?) When Boyd asked to talk to him on the field, and Scott attacked without rhyme or reason? When he let Erica sit and seize while he fussed over Allison? “This doesn’t Feel right” really Scott? You know, I think Erica, who’s having a fucking seizure in the next aisle, would agree! Hurry the fuck up! Oh my god, I went so off track. I have more thoughts on all that though, if anyone’s curious. Anyway. Scott doesn’t do anything that actually entails being a leader. His one job in the rave, he passes off to Isaac so that he can go call Gerard, because he’s currently working with the villain behind everyone’s back. The whole thing with Allison telling her parents and the plan with Derek getting messed up? Yeah, that was Scott’s fault for not telling her. Hell, for not telling GERARD. He, what he expected her to read his mind? Scott knew Allison was telling her parents about Jackson! She said she would tell them after he broke out of the van! The entire fuckup is his fault. But he still shouts at her and blames her and says she should’ve ‘trusted’ him. He passes all the guilt onto her and leaves her there on the verge of tears. He’s entitled to her obedience and he’s entitled to shaming her and scolding her like a child when she doesn’t do what he wants.

So, yeah, I think Scott’s entitled.

Scott is: Misogynistic. This one...I’m not so sure? Scott has a lot of bad qualities, a lot of behavior that’s incredibly toxic and manipulative, but I can honestly say that I can’t think of a single time when his reasoning for not letting/not thinking someone is capable of doing something is because they’re female?

There’s a lot to be said about the manipulative way that he speaks to and interacts with his girlfriends, but that doesn’t stem from misogyny, from what I can see. It stems from everything else. From his self-obsession, from his moral code, from his honest belief that he deserves obedience and complete candor from those closest to him. He does this to everyone, not just the women. It’s just easier to see it with the women because we’re primed to look for it. (I’m making the assumption here that you are female/feminine presenting, anon, since I know that the vast majority of the fandom is, but if I’m wrong, my apologies) Wow, though I’d have more to say on this bit, but I don’t.

Scott is: Toxicly Masculine. I’m not sure where I lay on this idea. Teen Wolf does have a lot of general instances of toxic masculinity, and Scott does exhibit some of them, but again, part of those behaviors can be found in women as well.

I know that it regularly pissed me off how often they reduced men to sex machines. *Scott and Allison are making out on Allison’s bed* Scott: “I don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do.” Allison: “I’m not doing anything I don’t wanna do. Are you?” Scott (incredulous): “Are you seriously asking me that question?”

*Stiles and Heather are talking about having sex at the party* Heather: “I mean, would you be okay with that?” Stiles (gently mocking): “Would I be okay with that? Yes, yes, I believe so.” They go out of their way to completely negate the possibility that a guy wouldn’t be into sex, even making the concept of asking for a man’s consent sound silly. This becomes even more toxic when Stiles complains about Malia leaving marks on him, hurting him during sex, and he gets teased for it. No one considers it a problem that Malia is scratching him. He’s expected to be appreciative of it/like it.

There’s the possessiveness, yes. Scott does some really fucked up, possessive things. Like freaking on Allison when Lydia introduces her to other guys, or getting angry from the sidelines just because Jackson is talking to Allison, not even flirting with her. Or running off to attack Jackson AND Allison (because there’s no proof he was only going after Jackson, and he’s only ever been able to follow allison’s scent across town, so he couldn’t have specifically been looking for Jackson) after she broke up with him. Throwing Isaac into a wall for liking Allison, even though they’ve been broken up for FOUR MONTHS. I can’t think of any more at the moment. But it’s a lot. BUT. We also see possessive behavior from Malia (yeah, she was an actual coyote for years, but she’s still a woman.) and similar amounts of aggression throughout the seasons from most of the shifters, implying that the habit is born from the werewolf/shifter thing, and not specifically Scott being toxicly masculine. (It’s still not good, but it’s not technically toxic masculinity.)

Aggression I think we can all agree is a shifter-wide phenomenon.

So, yeah, there’s instances that come across this way, and there’s also evidence that some of it is werewolf related, not scott related. I’m torn.

Anyway, again, I’ve talked way too much. If there are moments from later in the show that I’m missing that specifically prove/disprove these points, I’d love to know about it and check it out! I feel you Anon, Scott is infuriating and you’re in good company. <3

[edelwoodsouls]

all roads lead - ch. 6

When his mother dies, Stiles runs away, straight into danger - only to be saved by Peter Hale. Seven years later, after burying their alpha, Stiles and Malia return home.

Word Count: 2,397 | Also on Ao3 | Other Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,

Chapter 6: FLINCH

It takes less than an evening for the pieces of Beacon Hills to begin to fall together in Stiles' mind.

The four teenagers kill time until dinner watching television in somewhat awkward silence, passing around a bowl of microwave popcorn. Stiles still can't figure out what they were watching, his senses too overwhelmed by the two unsuspecting werewolves sitting so close on the sofa beside him, the beta leaning into his shoulder, his father shifting back and forth in the kitchen next door.

Dinner is an even more tentative affair. Melissa arrives just as John sets the shepherds pie in the centre of the table. She stinks of hospital cleaning fluids and that distinct floral perfume that hangs around his father's scent, but her smile is just as warm as Stiles remembers, and when she hugs him without hesitation it feels a little too much like memories eight years gone.

Melissa and John are sickeningly good together. They move around, between, with each other in a perfectly synchronised dance. They touch, and laugh, leaning into each other with the effortlessness of certainty.

They're good for each other, and Stiles is surprised to find any lingering bitterness begin to fizzle out inside him.

But whilst John's cooking has, in fact, come on in leaps and bounds since the last meal he gave Stiles - frozen waffles and ketchup - it's not enough to dissipate the thick tension in the air, like the pressure of clouds before lightning.

Scott manages to carry the conversation practically single-handed, with regular interruptions from Malia. He tells them all about sports practice, about the pretty cool new english teacher, about the cute puppy he treated at the animal clinic.

The topics are noticeably inane. More than once, Scott stumbles over a word, glances sharply at Stiles and Malia, quickly changing the subject. Stiles almost pities him. If he didn't know anything about the supernatural, he'd be more than a little suspicious by now.

Stiles stays quiet for the most part, watching this choreography of a normal life that he has never had the chance to witness so closely. Even in a half supernatural family, real life holds dominion. They worry about how to keep their grades up to stay on the lacrosse team. The fact that the local ice rink didn't get enough funding to stay open. The flashy new rich kids with bikes much better than theirs. Random, normal things that completely pass Stiles by.

He wonders how much he missed in New York, holding himself above the rest, writing them off as petty teenagers who knew nothing of the world. Was it just jealousy the whole time? That they could care about the things Stiles had to leave behind?

He cringes away from this realisation- and finds Isaac is staring directly at him.

Where Scott is a waterfall of movement and sound, Isaac is a silent, watchful stone. They balance each other well - Scott's open sunshine, Isaac's caution. He watches the room the way Stiles does: looking for the exits, assessing the threats. Flinching at any movement too sudden, any voice too loud. The clatter of cutlery against plates, a sharp bout of laughter.

He recognises the signs of trauma - no, the signs of abuse - far too well. The mystery of this strange boy his father and old best friend have adopted unfurls a little more.

Stiles meets his eyes, surprised when Isaac doesn't look away. He may behave like a shrinking violet, but Stiles gets the feeling he would do anything for Scott. The way he leans towards his alpha, instinctively, protectively - the same way he leans towards Malia, a gravity built on years of weight. He wonders if this boy filled the vacuum Stiles left when he vanished. If Scott attracts broken, darkened things like moths to flame.

Maybe magic and werewolves are an inevitability in this town, not the result of an ill-wandered youth.

"Are you gonna start coming to school?" Scott asks out of nowhere, and the tension ratchets up a thousand volts, breaking apart the unnoticed staring contest.

"Uh," Stiles starts. Stops. "I'd like to, yeah."

"I'd rather jump off a skyscraper," Malia all but snarls into her mashed potato. "But yes. I guess."

"Awesome," Scott grins. "It'll be great to have new people who're actually nice." Stiles has to stop himself from snorting. Never did he think someone would describe him as nice. "The new twins are dicks. Isaac got detention because of them."

"Detention?" John asks sharply, a father if ever Stiles heard one.

Isaac flinches a mile. Folds even further in on himself, eyes lost in his lap. "It wasn't what it looked like," he says, so softly the words are almost lost in the sudden silence of the kitchen.

"It wasn't his fault!" Scott leaps in vehemently. "The twins riled him up, got him angry, then framed him for beating them up in the halls-"

"Isaac, we're not angry, honey," Melissa says suddenly, yet gently as ever. "We absolutely believe you. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"Right, absolutely," John stumbles to follow, face drawn in panic. "Even if you did have detention, it's honestly nothing. What's one detention? Stiles had detention every day for a year when he was nine!"

"In my defence, Miss Clarke really hated you because you arrested her brother for kidnapping," Stiles says. "So really I think I was entirely innocent on that front."

The tension in the room eases, air let from an overblown balloon. Isaac uncurls, slowly, like a sunflower as the dawn breaks over the horizon. Scott's hand rests on his arm, not taking any pain but clearly reminding him of comfort, of pack. Stiles knows very little about Isaac, and yet he finds himself wanting to do anything to alleviate his discomfort.

He's not used to allowing himself to care about others. About anyone, really, except Peter and Malia, and- the one or two people who wormed their way into his heart by sheer force of will. Maybe he looks at Isaac and sees a possibilty of his own future, if he had remained trapped in a house of ghosts and overboiling temper. He'd like to think that's all, that his carefully guarded heart isn't beginning to crack more than it already has.

The rest of the meal passes with an added, wary undercurrent, everyone dancing around their words like cracks in the pavement.

Plates cleaned away, Scott stands up. "Mom, can you help me with dessert?" There's a strangled note to the alpha's voice, as if the words have been trying to force themselves out for too long. Stiles watches them leave.

"So why are you here?" Malia asks Isaac, so abruptly Stiles doesn't have time to anticipate damage control.

To his credit, Isaac barely seems phased. "Freezer related incidents," he shrugs, as if this is a perfectly sensible answer. "Why are you?"

"Coyotes."

Stiles leaves them to trade snide remarks at each other whilst his father referees; they seem impressively evenly matched. Instead, he has no qualms about focusing his hearing towards the other room, the murmured voices and distinct lack of movement.

"What happened, hun?" Melissa asks, voice soft as ever, yet firm, prompting.

"The alpha twins," Scott starts, stops, and Stiles has to school his expression to hide his shock. Twin werewolves are rare, believed to be incredibly powerful. Alpha twins are unheard of- except a single pair, blood-soaked and vicious. Why would they be in Beacon Hills of all places?

"The alpha twins?" Melissa prompts.

"They've really gotten under Isaac's skin since they... killed the others. They know exactly how to rile him up, and so they've made him a target. And I got a call from Derek on the way home - he and Cora were attacked at the loft. He almost bled out. I just- I don't know what I'm doing, mom."

Stiles hears the moment when Scott's voice breaks, and finds his heart cracking a little more in kind. He of all people shouldn't have let all those sunshine smiles distract him from the obvious pressure of being an alpha so young. Scott's positivity, even when they were children, had been a result of his suffering, not evidence of its lack.

And he's still an alpha, Stiles has to remind himself. He still has blood on his hands, somehow, and that makes him a threat despite any deceptive kindness.

"You're doing everything you can, sweetie," Melissa's voice is muffled, as if by a hug. "You've only been an alpha for a few months, and it's not easy, being a leader even in the best of times. What you've dealt with? Becoming a werewolf, hunters, now the alpha pack? It amazes me every day that you even get out of bed."

"I really wanted this to be the year I got my life back on track. Getting my marks up so I can do AP classes and stay on the lacrosse team, y'know? And now Stiles is here again and I don't know how to feel about that at all..."

"Because he's been gone so long? Because this house is already lively enough with two boys under its roof?" There's a small smile in Melissa's voice.

"Because everything new in this town seems to be something twisted and awful and supernatural. He's been gone seven years. Why did he leave? Where has he been? Who's Malia? I want to trust him, I've missed him so much, but..."

"What do your magical alpha senses tell you? What does he smell like?" The kitchen goes quiet for a moment, and Stiles feels the uncomfortable itch under his skin of being watched.

"He's human," Scott sighs with a guilt-wrenching amount of relief. "But he smells like concern all the time. The way he and Malia move around each other, I can't help but wonder what the two of them have been through, where they've been-"

"Scott, the best thing about you is your big heart. I often wish you wouldn't give it out so easily, but don't let past burns close you off completely from genuine miracles. Stiles is human, and against all odds he's come home. The rest can come later, when he's ready. We have to give him time. I mean, we're hiding things from him too, aren't we? Unless you'd like to carry this trifle back in there in all your sideburns and fangs."

Stiles pulls his attention back to the dinner table, reeling. There's so much, too much, all at once.

The alpha pack were infamous in New York. They were a favourite horror story, passed between supernatural teenagers like an urban legend, a ghost story. For betas the meaning was clear: don't anger your alpha, or he might murder your whole pack and join the alpha pack. For alphas: don't be too good at anything, don't make yourself special or noticeable, or the demon wolf will stalk you from the shadows.

Peter had scoffed at the stories, but even he couldn't hide how they made his skin crawl.

If the alpha pack are in Beacon Hills, this is the worst possible place he and Malia could be. The blood of his own pack is fresh on Stiles' hand, the obstacle between him and them a singular beta. He is a wolf who has also been a fox, who still has a little magic left running through his veins despite no longer being human.

There is no guarantee they would care about him at all.

But the risk is there, a sliver of ice sliding towards his heart.

They must be here for Scott, but what makes him special? Or maybe they're here for Laura Hale, the current alpha of the prestigious if decimated Hale pack. Scott mentioned her younger brother Derek, so the two packs must be on tentatively good terms, at least.

Unless, of course, Scott McCall is the current owner of the Hale alpha power. Which is an entirely possible and unpleasant reality that leaves an awful taste in Stiles mouth. He tries to imagine Scott stood over a body, claws blood-soaked, eyes flickering from gold to red.

It feels so wrong. He shoves the image away as Scott and Melissa emerge from the kitchen, carrying a towering monstrosity he supposes is the aforementioned trifle.

"You with me?" Malia nudges him gently in the ribs. There's a question in her eyes - she knows his propensity for eavesdropping, and he can see how much effort it's taking her not to ask right here and now.

"Later," he whispers, turning back to the table with as much of a grin as he can manage.

There are too many unknowns in Beacon Hills. At least in New York, there was an obvious hierarchy, the etiquette between packs and other supernatural creatures rigorous and unchallenged. Here it seems like a mess of blood and confusion.

But leaving now would cause more problems thann Stiles has the energy to deal with. A reawakened search for a missing sheriff's son and an Eichen House escapee could make national news, especially now that Scott and Isaac know about New York.

And Stiles finds he doesn't want to leave - just yet, at least. Even in a house of wolves, he has a bed to sleep in, Malia by his side, his father in his life. He's laid the groundwork for friendship that he hopes will make people hesitate and listen before they try to murder him. Yes, there's risk, and the potential for blood in the near future.

But is it really so different? He ran from blood - who knows what would have happened to him and Malia if they'd stayed in New York?

The Argents are not a forgiving family, and Stiles has done the unforgiveable. They would have been hunted to the ends of the earth, and without the power of the nogistune he doesn't think they'd last long.

And whilst there probably isn't a standard punishment for betas who get possessed and murder their alpha and several other prominent figures in the supernatural community, he can't imagine they'd be lenient.

After all, no one particularly cared about Peter Hale, but everyone loved Noshiko Yukimura.

So they'll stay. Act human. Go to school, play lacrosse, hang out with Scott. Maybe even try to help out with the alpha pack, if they can.

And when the blood comes knocking, perhaps they'll stand a chance.

[plurdledgabbleblotchits]

We’d love you to get rid of your Sheriff and law enforcement . We don’t need no rules!   

Alvord-Stiles Gang (1899-1904) – Led by two ex-lawmen, Burton Alvord and Billy Stiles, this gang of train robbers operated in Arizona Territory at the turn of the century.

Archer Gang (1880s) – Much like the Reno Brothers who had operated two decades earlier, the Archer brothers — Thomas, Mort, John, and Sam, raided Orange and Marion Counties in Indiana for several decades.

Sam Bass Gang (1877-1878) – Led by Sam Bass, this gang robbed trains and banks in Texas. For South Dakota and Nebraska robberies, see the Black Hills Bandits.

Billy the Kid’s Gang, aka: The Rustlers (1876-1880) – Led by Billy the Kid, this gang formed out of the conflict of the Lincoln County War in New Mexico.

Black Hills Bandits (1876-1877) – Comprised of Sam Bass, Joel Collins, and four other men, they robbed stagecoaches in the Deadwood, South Dakota area and pulled off the Big Springs train robbery in Nebraska.

Blonger Brothers (1890’s-1922) – Louis H. “The Fixer” Blonger led one of the longest-running confidence rings in the American West.

Bummers Gang (1855-1860) – Operating in Denver, Colorado, the Bummers Gang began “raiding” the town in the mid-1850s.

Burrow Gang (1887-1890) – Reuben “Rube” Burrow, along with his brother Jim, and other members began to rob trains after Rube’s crops had failed in Texas.

Clanton Gang, aka: The Cowboys (1870s) – The Clanton family and their ranch hands were a loosely organized gang of outlaws who operated along the Mexican border of Arizona, stealing cattle, robbing stagecoaches, ambushing teamsters, and committing murder.

Cook Gang (1894) – Led by Bill Cook and Cherokee Bill, these outlaws terrorized Indian Territory (Oklahoma) in 1894. Ruthless, they shot anyone who got in their way.

Brack Cornett Gang – See Bill Whitley Gang

Dalton Gang (1891-1892) – Led by brothers Bob and Grat Dalton, the Dalton Gang robbed banks and trains throughout Kansas and Oklahoma until they were killed in the Coffeyville, Kansas Raid.

Daly Gang (1862-1864) – For two years the Daly Gang terrorized the town of Aurora, Nevada.

Dodge City Gang (1879-1881) – In the summer of 1879, a gang of desperadoes known as the Dodge City Gang masqueraded as lawmen in Las Vegas, New Mexico.

Doolin-Dalton Gang, aka: Oklahombres, the Wild Bunch (1892-1895) – Led by Bill Doolin, the gang specialized in robbing banks, stagecoaches and trains in Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Kansas.

Espinosa Gang – Bitter at the killing of six family members during the Mexican-American War, the Espinosas took their revenge on Colorado residents and travelers, murdering them viciously.

The Five Joaquins (1850-1853) – The Five Joaquins were said to be responsible for the majority of cattle rustling, robberies, and murders that were committed in the Mother Lode area of the Sierra Nevadas between 1850 and 1853.

Fleagle Gang in the Newspaper

Fleagle Gang (1920s) – The Fleagle Gang robbed banks and committed murder in Kansas, Colorado, and California during the 1920s. They were found and executed or killed after robbing the First National Bank in Lamar, Colorado.

Flores-Daniel Gang (1856-1857) – Led by Juan Flores and Pancho Daniel, the gang raided southern California, stealing horses, cattle, and robbing travelers along the roadways, sometimes leaving their victims dead.

High Fives Gang (1890s) – Also referred to as the Christian Gang, led by “Black Jack” Will Christian and his brother, Bob, from Oklahoma, the gang operated in New Mexico and Arizona after the Christian brothers escaped from an Oklahoma jail in 1895.

Hole-in-the-Wall-Gang – Active in the 1880s-1890s in the Hole-in-the-Wall Pass of the Big Horn Mountains in Wyoming, the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang was not one organized gang of outlaws, but rather, was made up of several separate groups and individuals who made their hideouts within the pass in Johnson County, Wyoming.

Innocents Gang – The Innocents were an alleged gang of outlaw road agents in Montana Territory who operated during the gold rush of the 1860s, preying on shipments and travelers carrying gold between Bannack and Virginia City.

James Gang (1879-1882) – Three years after the demise of the James-Younger Gang, when the Youngers were arrested in Northfield, Minnesota, Jesse James put together another group to continue on with his criminal career. The James Gang lasted from 1879 to 1882, when Jesse was killed by Bob Ford on April 3, 1882.

James-Younger Gang (1866-1882) – After the Civil War, the James and Younger brothers hooked up, robbing banks, trains, and stagecoaches for ten years, becoming the most famous outlaw gang in America’s history.

Jennings Gang (1897) – This short-lived gang operated only a few months making several failed train robbery attempts in Oklahoma in 1897 before all were arrested or killed.

Jesse Evans Gang – The Boys (1872-1879) – Lead by Jesse Evans, this gang was actively involved in cattle rustling and armed robbery in New Mexico in the early 1870s.

Ketchum Gang (1896-1899) – Made up of a revolving list of members, the Ketchum Gang was led by Black Jack Ketchum. The gang robbed retail businesses, post offices, and trains in New Mexico.

John Kinney Gang (1870’s-1883) – Also known as the Rio Grande Posse, the Kinney Gang were successful cattle rustlers, robbers, and hired gunmen in New Mexico.

Lee Gang (1885) – In the mid-1880s, Cooke County, Texas, on the northern border of the Lone Star State, and the Chickasaw Nation just north in Indian Territory, were plagued by a gang of horse and livestock thieves led by James Lee and his brothers, Tom and Pink.

McCanles Gang – Led by David McCanles (or by some accounts, McCandless), this group of men were allegedly wanted for robbing banks and trains, cattle rustling, murder, and horse theft in the early 1860s.

McCarty Gang (1892-1893) – The McCarty Gang was run by Tom McCarty, who was one of the first to introduce Butch Cassidy to the life of banditry. The gang robbed banks until several members were killed.

Mes Gang – This bunch of primarily Hispanic outlaws and gunmen, were a rival of the John Kinney Gang, both operating out of New Mexico.

Musgrove Gang (1867-1868) – A gang of horse thieves and cattle rustlers who operated throughout Southern Wyoming and Northern Colorado in the late 1860s.

Oklahombres – See Doolin-Dalton Gang

Henry Plummer Gang – See the Innocents

Red Jack Gang – Led by “Red Jack” Almer, also known as Jack Averill, this gang preyed on Arizona stagecoaches during the early 1880s, particularly along the San Pedro River.

Reno Gang (1866-1868) – Four of the five Reno Brothers terrorized the state of Indiana for two years before they tracked down and hanged by the Southern Indiana Vigilance Committee in 1868.

Reynolds Gang (1863-1864) – A group of Confederate sympathizers that rampaged the South Park, Colorado area with the intention of raising money for the Confederate government.

Rogers Brothers Gang (1890s) – The Rogers Brothers Gang, led by Bob Rogers, terrorized Oklahoma and Kansas in the 1890s. The gang was involved in stealing horses, rustling cattle and robbing stores, post offices, banks, and trains.

Rufus Buck Gang (1895-1896) – A gang of ruthless outlaws who preyed on victims in Oklahoma, five of them were hanged at Fort Smith, Arkansas.

Selman’s Scouts (1878) – An outlaw gang in Lincoln County, New Mexico led by John Selman. For two months, during September and October 1878, the gang members terrorized the county by rustling cattle and horses, killing innocent men and boys, pillaging businesses and homes, and raping women.

Seven Rivers Warriors – (1870s) – Made up mostly of small-time ranchers from the Seven Rivers area of southeastern Lincoln County, New Mexico. supported the Tunstall/McSween faction against that of Dolan and Murphy in the Lincoln County War of New Mexico.

Silva’s White Caps, aka: Forty Bandits, Society of Bandits (1879-1893) – Silva’s White Caps were a vicious outlaw gang that operated in Las Vegas, New Mexico from about 1879 to 1893. They were a mafia-like organization that was led by led by Vicente Silva.

Smith-Dixon Gang – A Gang of horse thieves and whiskey peddlers operating in Indian Territory (Oklahoma), its members included Dave Smith, a former member of the Belle Starr Gang; his brother-in-law, Leander “Lee” Dixon; and a man teenager of about 17 years-old named William “Billy” Towerly.

Soapy Smith Gang (1879-1898) – Led by Jefferson Randolph “Soapy” Smith, the gang operated in Denver and Creede, Colorado before moving on to Skagway, Alaska, running a number of con games against unsuspecting citizens.

Stockton Gang (1878-1881) – Led by Ike Stockton, this gang of cattle rustlers terrorized the area of northern New Mexico while posing as “gentleman cowboys” in Durango, Colorado.

Triskitt Gang – Known for having conducted several robberies and killings in Northern California, the gang killed 18 people in Sailor’s Diggings, Oregon and stole $75,000 in gold.

Vasquez Gang (1860s-1875) – Led by Tiburcio Vasquez, the gang committed armed robbery and rustled horses and cattle up and down central and southern California for years.

Bill Whitley or Brack Cornett Gang (1887-1888) – Comprised of about 12 outlaws, the gang was led by Texas desperadoes Bill Whitley and Brack Cornett, robbing Texas banks and trains in the late 1880s.

Wild Bunch (1896-1901) – Led by Butch Cassidy, the Wild Bunch terrorized the states of Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Utah, and Nevada for five years.

Wolcott’s Regulators (1892) – One of the most feared bands of gunfighters and outlaws in Wyoming was Wolcott’s Regulators, who preyed on homesteaders in 1892, frequently leaving dead bodies in their wake.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

I feel weird asking but can you recommend any fics where derek gets really, really, I mean REALLY hurt ? People don't really venture into the dark triggering stuff so I feel awkward asking but I really feel like reading something where derek is tortured mentally/physically/sexually/emotionally/any way which is preferably described in detail.

Here you go! And pictures of fluff to balance it out.- Anastasia

Tatoue moi sur ton coeur by scarlettletterr

(1/1 I 807 I Not Rated I Sterek)

AU where everyone is born with a very unique tattoo on their ankle, nobody else in the world has that tattoo. Every time you fall in love with someone, their tattoo appears somewhere else on your body. And Derek promised himself that he'd never let another mark appear on his body.

Big Bad Wolf by Nival_Vixen

(9/9 I 11,765 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles knows that someone needs and trusts him, and it's not his father or Scott - it's Derek.

After he discovers that Kate's kidnapped Derek, Stiles tracks him down, and with the help of the pack, Stiles gets his big bad wolf back.

To Fix You by marvelous_hale

(3/? I 12,599 I Explicit I Sterek I Rape)

Derek Hale is one of the most dangerous and disobedient werewolves in the entire state. Many trainers tried to force him to submit to the fate of his kind - to slavery - but he still insisted on fighting. Even the Argents failed to make Derek a good slave, so now it's time to reach for the heaviest weaponry available. Come in Stiles Stilinski - the most cruel and vicious werewolf retrainer in California. Will he be able to tame the beast? And is he really the person everyone thinks he is?

Soul Bitten by BasquillINKPot

(11/17 I 27,277 I Explicit I Sterek Rape)

Stiles confronts Derek about kicking Isaac out. After a brutal argument Stiles goes to the preserve to clear his head only to have his most life changing encounter yet.

carry you home by pineneedlepants

(4/5 I 36,283 I Mature I Sterek)

Making sure his exits are still open, Stiles pushes through the crowd. He sees men in full black gear entering, plainly sweeping over the people, sharp eyes searching. He can see a concealed weapon from a mile away, and these men are packing a bunch of them.

Hunters.

Stiles takes his Mets cap off his head as he makes his way through the thick flock of people, and slaps the cap on top of the black tuft of hair, making the magazine drop instantly, familiar blue eyes flashing for a millisecond.

‘’Derek,’’ Stiles grits out, because of course it’s Derek. Who else has the shittiest luck in the whole wide world, to be clad half naked in a harsh, bitter winter, chased by men with guns? He strips his own jacket off before the wolf can answer, and Jesus, does his torn body look fucking awful.

He needs to get Derek out of there and fast.

Set your wolves on me by Littleredridinghunter

(1/1 I 37,567 I Not Rated I Sterek I Rape)

Kate set the Hale house on fire, killing most of the pack, their emissary Claudia Stilinski and her child, Stiles.

Thirteen years later and Kate is back in town, planning something that Derek is sure will end in disaster for them.

Do Not Go Gentle by MojoFlower

(51/51 I 195,878 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek Hale, Beacon Hills Alpha and Dom, wakes up in a dark cell already housing another captive – a mute, traumatized sub with a cruel collar around his neck. His only goal is to get them both free of their brutal circumstances; but even as he tries to get his young companion home, a bond between them grows. Nothing comes easily: danger and harrowing echoes of their ordeal shadow every step they take.

[uniewaznic]

things you said with rage between your teeth

        𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋. it should mean the promise of new beginnings, fresh starts. spring flowers, LIKE SOMETHING BLOOMING, SOMETHING NEW. but there is only drowning grass and everything is still the same. stiles is still just stiles. sᴛɪʟᴇs ɪs sᴛɪʟʟ ᴊᴜsᴛ. except there’s something a little more mean to him, something he thinks he might blame on foxes and tree roots, BUT TRULY IT IS ONLY HIM. it is only a bitter boy who stands here, FISTS AT HIS SIDE, flannel wet weight at his back along with the rest of the shit he refuses to let go of.

        ʙᴜᴛ ʟʏᴅɪᴀ﹖ ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʟʏᴅɪᴀ﹐ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ғɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ʀᴇʟᴇᴀsᴇ.

        𝙸𝚃 𝙸𝚂 𝚁𝙰𝙸𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶, but it is not cold so steam rises from each surface the water hits. the jeep pulled over to the side of the road MIGHT BE ON FIRE for how it plumes smoke from the change in temperature. the hood remains open, though abandoned, where stiles had tried unsuccessfully to assess the cause for the engine’s failure. his attention is instead given in favor of a lydia who looks like she wants to be angry, ʙᴜᴛ ɪs ғᴀʀ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ﹐ ғᴀʀ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴠᴜʟɴᴇʀᴀʙʟᴇ﹐ ғᴀʀ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴘᴜsʜᴇᴅ. he has pushed her too much and now she stands here in the rain on the side of the road with a broken down jeep and its BROKEN DOWN OWNER.

        BUT SHE IS NOT UPSET ABOUT THE JEEP. he tried to play off his emotions ( 𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚆𝙾𝙽'𝚃 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃, 𝙸𝚃 𝚆𝙾𝙽'𝚃 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃, 𝙸 𝙲𝙰𝙽'𝚃 𝙵𝙸𝚇 𝙸𝚃, 𝚆𝙷𝚈 𝙳𝙾 𝙸 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽 𝙱𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁– ) and she’d seen right through him, that whatever has been bothering him all day, ALL WEEK, is far deeper than an engine that won’t turn over. ᴡʜʏ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ, she wants to know. she wants to know, she wants to help, but god. god, he can't help but think, since when? SINCE WHEN SINCE WHEN SINCE WHEN? 

        ❝ WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU EVEN CARE, LYDIA? ❞ the rain spits from his mouth just as furiously as his words, hands gesturing between them heavily, the moment charged because he is fueled by thoughts he can never escape. this never escapes, but maybe she can. 𝚁𝚄𝙽, 𝙻𝚈𝙳𝙸𝙰, 𝚁𝚄𝙽. he is still vicious and dark, a terrible thing in this terrible world. ❝ what the fuck do you care? what, i don’t give you my attention for five minutes and SUDDENLY YOU CAN GIVE ME SOME OF YOURS? what, i’m not tripping over my own feet trying to make you see me, and now suddenly you do? fuck you, lydia. just– ғᴜᴄᴋ ʏᴏᴜ. i’ll call scott; he can come get you. ❞ or maybe he can't quite release her after all.

☇ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃. // @lydstm

[chocoholicannanymous]

...As Stupid Does 16/? (Teen Wolf)

Yeah, so. This fic fell of the face of the earth for the last year and a half, and I have no excuses except “I didn’t feel like I could write for most of that time”.

Not at all the chapter I’d outlined - more like 1/3 of that, so forget chapter count - but it’s an update. And I swear I’m going to finish this, okay, because otherwise the 3k of selfindulgent, very me, finale would be wasted writing and no one wants that, right?

Anyway: UPDATE!

Part 15, Part 14, Part 13,  Part 12,  Part 11,  Part 10,  Interlude,  Part 9, Part 8d, Part 8c, Part 8b, Part 8a, Part 7, Part 6, Part 5,Part 4,Part 3, Part 2, Part 1,Not Stupid, Stupid Is… and pre-verse ficlet I’m Stupid (Don’t Worry ‘Bout Me)

...As Stupid Does

part 3 of the Stupid ‘verse

16/?

Just about everyone around him has an opinion on Stiles giving Derek a second chance. Almost no one is optimistic. Leah goes the furthest though. She tells him – repeatedly – that he's being stupid. It hits him harder than he lets on, with her being so much of a role model for him. At the same time...

Leah's healing now, yeah, but for so long she wasn't and Stiles doesn't want that for himself – years of letting bitterness and pain rule him. Stiles tells her that, or tries to. Says that he's working on how to be stronger. Braver. She screams at him for two minutes straight, and then storms out.

Who knows, maybe she's right. Maybe bravery is just another word for stupidity. Maybe this is the stupidest thing he's ever done. He just knows he needs to. Because it also has the potential to be the best thing ever.

And Stiles is willing to be more than a little stupid in order to win that.

He's in love with Derek, none of the bad shit has changed that, and he's giving the two of them a chance. If Derek hurts him again, this time without outside influences, then Stiles will cut all ties. Will allow his pack to take whatever vengeance is deemed suitable. But. Derek – not the Alpha, no, because Stiles isn't accepting an Alpha in this, not ever again – feels deeply for him. That means something.

Maybe it means everything.

The only person who doesn't call him some version or other of idiot is Embry. As grateful as he is, Stiles doesn't really get it, and it keeps bugging him. When he finally breaks down and asks the answer is so simple he's ashamed to have missed it.

“You're my imprint. That means giving you what you need. And if what you need is to give Derek a second chance? I'm going to back you up. It doesn't mean I'm not worried, it just means that I'll support you.

“But, Stiles? Since we're apparently talking about it, I have a question for you. Remember back when we first met, how you reacted when Sam told you I wasn't into guys?”

Yeah. Stiles remembers. He remembers all too well exactly how scared that statement and its implications had made him.

“And remember when you told me about how Derek had acted in pretty much the way you were terrified I would? Now, can you understand how that makes me more than a little worried? Because it really, really does. And the fact that the guy who would never take that from me is apparently willing to let it slide now...”

“Em. Just, no. Look, there's a pretty huge difference in what I might be willing to let slide between the guy I'm choosing to date, and the guy I've supposedly been chosen for, where I get no say at all. The situation's nothing alike, okay?

“Derek did have all those issues with internalized homophobia, and he did take it out on me, and that was so not okay. But. He's over it. He's worked through it, with a professional, and being attracted to a guy isn't an issue any longer. Also, as weird as it sounds, if there were any lingering issues? Not really a problem in the same way, because magic isn't pushing him in that direction any longer.”

And wow, having to use “because magic” as an argument for anything never stopped feeling strange.

“But in the end? If Derek fucks up again, I can – and will – walk away. That's an option I have with him that didn't really exist with you. Because if I dump Derek? What's he going to do? Growl at me? That'll help, not. He knows I can hurt him, and that I'm protected now, and me giving him a second chance is miracle enough for him. But you? You had the whole 'gift from the spirits' thing, and not just one but two werewolf packs backing you up. What basically equals religious fanatic with muscle back-up against a scrawny kid with no real support at all? Yeah. Walking away wouldn't have been an option for me had you been that guy, would it?”

It's not a happy conversation, and they're both flinching more than not, but maybe it's good that they're doing this. Getting it out into the air.

Plus. Stiles really does want to give the whole dating Derek thing an honest try. Having his 'wolf on his side will make that so more painless.

“But you, all of you, you're a huge part of why I can do this, why I feel safe doing this. You know that, right? I know my pack will be there for me if I need them, and in fact, the can of mace that'll make sure Derek backs off if I want him to? That's because of you guys too.

“So I'm grateful that you're worried, but honestly, I'm fine. I will be fine. And the second I'm not I'll dump his grumpy ass and come straight to you. That good enough for you, big brother?”

He says the last two words in a teasing lilt, hoping for levity, and smiles in relief when Embry relaxes.

“Fine. And as I said, I'll back you up. I support you completely, you know that, right? As long as you're safe and happy. But Stiles? If he hurts you again, I'm going to show him exactly why I'm a superior breed of werewolf and rip him to pieces. Unless that happens though? I'll be behind you 200%.”

Hearing Embry's words, knowing he has that kind of support... It makes Stiles's heart grow at least two sizes in his chest, and everything feels so warm. It's unconditional, and amazing, and everything he could ever have asked for. And it's just what he needs.

The resulting hug lasts longer than Stiles would be comfortable with, had it been anyone else, but. It's Embry. It's his soulmate. The platonic part changes nothing about how important that is. And that's why Embry is the only one to get an answer that has no defenses.

“It's not about giving Derek a second chance. Or well, it is, but it also isn't. It's not just him that needs it. I need one too. I've been make shit judgment calls for years, and that's the reason behind so much of all this. I'm doing better now, I think, but I need to see if my judgment can be trusted. That's what I need to give a second chance.

“That Derek, and me and Derek, also gets one? That's kind of just a bonus.”

Because it is. He wants this relationship to work. He really, really does. But if, in the end, it doesn't? As long as it's not because Derek turned out to not be worthy of the trust Stiles has decided to show him, then a breakup would be hard, but doable.

Stiles just needs to have a life where he can have faith that things will work.

As much as telling the pack is difficult, and leads to some less than comfortable discussions – and arguments – it's still preferable to telling his dad. Because unlike with the pack his dad has a ton of background details to fill out whatever story Stiles gives him, and all the chances of putting it all into a clear picture that Stiles doesn't want him to see.

He even considers not telling his dad, and that's a first since the move, and a warning. If he can't tell his dad about dating Derek, Stiles knows, then he really can't go through with it. No more secrets, that was the point, right?

Only, they've dialed back some on that. Not lying is good, not having secrets is too, to a degree. Just, everyone should be entitled to their secrets according to John Stilinski, as long as those secrets doesn't hurt others. And Stiles, well, Stiles has to agree. He does, after all, still have two major secrets, even after swearing to himself he was done with that; Derek and Aiden.

Those are not the kind of secrets you share with someone who works law-enforcement, after all, not something you burden them with. His dad is keeping quiet about the Alpha pack's murders, yes, but that's because they were a bunch of vicious killers, and killing them was just a form of self-defense. Extreme, but still.

Telling him about more crimes though... No thanks. That's asking too much.

One of the last things Stiles wants to do is tell his dad he killed someone. Oh, John Stilinski would let it go, would never investigate or charge Stiles. Not when, again, it's self-defense. Because it truly was – it was Stiles or Aiden, and John would never fault Stiles for making the choice of being the one to walk away alive.

Plus, it's not like they could prove that Stiles acted in the only manner he could, not without bringing up werewolves – and landing at least one of them in a mental hospital.

Anyway, having to keep that secret is not something Stiles wants to burden his father with.

As for Derek... Well. Stiles can't see telling his dad about that ever ending well. There's no reason for John to not charge Derek with statutory rape – and possibly more – and every reason for that to end in disaster. So yeah. When push comes to shove Stiles would rather tell his dad he killed someone than that he used to have sex with Derek before leaving Beacon Hills.

John asks, of course, and it's obvious he's suspicious, but Stiles manages to talk himself out of that. He thinks. He tells a few lies, as much as he doesn't want to, and pretties up the truths as much as he can, and generally tries to make Derek look like the date-able guy of now instead of the power-tripping Alpha-asshole of then.

Of course, life being what it is, being with Derek isn't as easy as Stiles had hoped. Oh, it had been a very small hope, since nothing with Derek has been easy since that very first day in the preserve, years ago, but still. He'd held on to that tiny glimmer of hope. Of course, it's not as bad as he'd feared either, but. It's too close.

They don't see each other as often as Stiles (or Derek for that matter) would like, but in the bigger picture that's a small detail. The huge issue is their fighting, and how it's basically always brought on by Derek being an Alpha-asshole.

He brushes it away the first time. (Or rather, he pushes it away, onto a mental shelf marked “for later”, or maybe “just in case”.) The second time he sits down afterwards and goes over everything.

It's not that bad. Not yet. But the truth is, as much as Stiles would like to pretend otherwise, that Derek is displaying much of the same behavior that led to Stiles fleeing Beacon Hills. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's just Derek having a really bad day (okay, two). Or maybe it's Derek sliding back into his old behavior.

Maybe he really hasn't gotten better after all. Maybe it was all just a sham, and now that he's gotten what he wanted (Stiles back? Scott calmed? Something else?) Derek feels safe to drop the act.

Whatever it is, Stiles knows he can't ignore the warning signs. He's done that once before, and never again. He won't be that guy. He's stronger than that now, is healthier than that.

So. What to do? In the end, Stiles decides to go with the tried and true “three strikes” rule. That means Derek gets one more chance, and if he fucks up, then that's it. Out the door it is. Stiles might be in love with Derek, but that doesn't make him a doormat.

Besides. Maybe it really has been just bad days, and Derek won't fuck up again.

Derek fucks up again.

Stiles doesn't throw him out.

Oh, he's seconds from it; he's got his hand on the handle, about to throw the door open, and his panic button in the other hand, finally grateful that his pack insisted on one. But then he hears Derek. Really hears him, instead of just letting the angry ranting flow over him.

“What did you say?”

“I said, I can't believe you would do this,” Derek bites out between his teeth.

“Not that, before. Derek, did you come straight here? Like, did you come straight to my place, without stopping at the rez or Dr Bianchi's office first? You did, didn't you?

“And it's not the first time either.”

It's not a question, because suddenly it's all so very clear. As much as they'd both like to think differently, Derek still isn't free from what the Darach and Deaton did to him. He's still not impervious to the negative effects of the packbonds. He still needs healing – and if he's been skipping out on that, well. That would explain more than a few things.

He sees Derek hesitate, and knows the wolf is debating how to answer. Whether or not to tell the truth.

“Please. Just tell me the truth. I won't be mad, even if you screwed up. Not as long as you're honest. We can't fix this if you lie to me.”

Because if that’s what’s the problem here, then it’s something that can be fixed, and that Stiles wants to fix. And Derek seems to pick up on that, because he deflates and nods.

“Okay, yeah, I did that. You're far enough away that I can't see you nearly as often as I want – as you want. As you deserve. So I take every opportunity, regardless of how short a period of time. Sometimes... Spending maybe half of that to go up to LaPush and Quil, when I can stop here and actually spend that time with you? In what scenario wouldn't I chose you instead?

“Besides, the pack's stabilized so much, I can feel it, and Dr Bianchi told me that'd carry over.

“And we've been fine, haven't we?”

Stiles swallows, because as much as Derek probably intended for that last statement to sound decisive, and authoritative, it just comes out as vulnerable. In need of reassurance. He... He wants to say he's stronger than that, but. He can feel himself melting.

At the same time he's going over Derek's visits, and his behavior, and if Derek really has been neglecting his “therapy”, both actual and magical, whenever he's pulled one of his surprise visits to Stiles in Seattle then it all makes sense.

Every single fight they've had has occurred in Seattle. Every single flash of temperament from Derek has happened here. And they've gotten worse.

Which is why, even though Stiles is touched, he has to put his foot down. Before everything completely derails. Again.

Besides, as much as Derek is (probably) right about the pack being more stable – having Cora there, and Scott back, and Danny gone has helped a lot, from what Stiles can tell – it's not enough. Not when Derek have so many more issues.

Not when Peter is still part of the pack. Because while Stiles won't say it, he truly believes the only way for the Hale pack to be truly healthy is to get rid of Peter. (Preferably by killing him. Again.) But that's another conversation. One they’ll probably never have.

“No, we haven't. Not really, Derek, not if we're honest. Now, you're going to go sit down, and I'm going to make a call to see how we can fix this. No,” he holds up a hand – not the one holding the panic button – to both silence Derek and stop him in his tracks, “you are going to do as I say or leave. Those are your only options, Derek. And if you leave, don't come back. Not ever.”

Derek sits down.

Old Quil is obviously upset when Stiles reaches him – Dr Bianchi is out of town, her messaging service informs – and very worried. He's also, thankfully, able to both stay calm and suggest a solution.

They're lucky – Stiles has everything his mentor tells him he needs on hand. Or well, it's not as much luck as it is lingering paranoia (though, does it still count as paranoia when it's been repeatedly proven that a/ monsters do exist and b/ they really are out to get him?) but still.

The chest under his bed is fully stocked with everything they need – and more. (Stiles's blades, for instance, are probably not necessary at the moment. Not if he does this right. So, like, no pressure.)

With the list in one hand Stiles pulls out herbs and candles, rocks and crystals and a totem old Quil's made for him, and then he adds a few things just in case. He mixes what he can only think of as a potion, watches Derek like a hawk while the man downs it with an extra grumpy face, and then steels himself for the ritual.

It feels like trying to wrestle an uncooperative wolf, like channeling the forces from a nuclear power plant to light a desk lamp – all while blindfolded and with one hand tied behind his back. It leaves him drained, feeling like a wet rag, but it works. Stiles can feel it work, and even if he couldn't, it's obvious as hell on Derek's face.

Once they've recovered enough to do anything except pant for breath – and it's very telling that that takes just as long for Derek as it does for Stiles – Stiles decides to address the elephant in the room.

“Derek? We need to talk.

“What you did today, coming here to see me, even when it meant more hours on the road than together... It means a lot to me that you'd be willing to do that. It tells me that this, us, means a lot to you.

“That said? You can't do this again. I'm serious. You skipped seeing either Dr Bianchi or old Quil before coming here, because you didn't feel you had the time, and that showed.

“I don't want you to come here if that's the Derek I'm getting. I left my home to get away from that behavior – I'm not having it in my new home. I know you don't have to be like that, I've seen you change, become better. I've seen you healthier. And that's who I agreed to date. The healthy” sane “Derek. The one that isn't being twisted by the pack bonds, or magic.”

The one that doesn't scare me, he thinks but doesn't say.

“We both know you need the help you've getting to connect to your anchor. You're doing so much better, yes, but you're not ready to do it on your own yet. So please, even if it takes away from the time we get together, you need to do it. I'd rather have one hour with the real you than a day with...this.”

Of course, that assumes that the Derek that isn't an Alpha-asshole is the real Derek, but Stiles refuses to believe otherwise. For now.

“I need you to do that, or I can't do this. I'm giving you one last chance, because I truly don't think you realized how badly you were fucking up, but if you do this again? That's it.”

Stiles knows Derek hears the truth in his words, in his heartbeat. Now all he can do is hope that the wolf will listen.

“But you fixed it. Fixed me. Why can't I just come straight to you, and you do it every time? At least when time's short?”

The desire to either slam his head into a wall or his fist into Derek's face is almost overwhelming. That Derek can be so, so stupid after what just happened is, well, infuriating. Of course, Stiles realizes, he probably doesn't understand exactly how bad things really were.

“Derek, what I did? So an emergency fix-it. It's... It's the magical equivalent of using duct-tape to put you back together, dammit. So yeah, sure, I managed to fix it this time, but I can't, no, I won't do it again.

“Do you realize that what you're asking me to do is to fucking McGuyver your emotional stability, your soul, your safety? And mine, while we're at it, all things considered. I'm really not going to do that. Not unless it actually is an emergency.” Because as much as Stiles wants to say he'll never subject himself to that again, he's self-aware enough to know he won't stand aside in case of an emergency, and he's realistic enough to know that with their lives there will be emergencies.

Just wanting to see each other sooner, or more often, though? That doesn't count.

“I want to see you, and spend time with you. I really do. All the time I can get – I'm greedy like that. But we have to be smart about it. Be safe. Because I don't want to spend that time being afraid that you're going to lose it because you didn't want to take an hour to have a professional make sure you're okay. Which I'm not. I'm an amateur, an apprentice at best!

“I can't take that risk. Not with you – and not with me.”

Both their tempers are about to flare up, and Stiles makes a conscious effort to stop that from happening.

“I'm going to go make some tea, and once that's done we can talk more, okay? Just, sit here. Relax. Make sure you're actually fine and I didn't miss anything.”

Making tea gives Stiles time to calm down properly, and sort through his thoughts and feelings. Once they're both seated with a cup he starts over, tries to be more rational.

“What old Quil uses on you, what he helps you with, it's tribal magic. That's what gives him the strength to combat what's been done to you, to strengthen your anchor.

“And that magic? It's not mine, it's not for me to use.

“My bond with Embry makes me pack, yes, and technically that makes me a member of the Quileute tribe as well. But it really is only technically. When push comes to shove, I'm not part of the tribe.”

And Stiles is more than fine with that. Deep down he doesn’t want to belong to the tribe, because that would be to give up just one piece too many of himself. But. It’s not about that now.

“That in turns means the magic won't respond to me – or maybe that it doesn't want to. Sure, what I did earlier, that used the tribal magic, but only because I had permission. I couldn't have done it otherwise. And without that, I, I'm just not strong enough. I don't have the power to be anything except your last resort, so please, please Derek, let the people who actually have the power to help you do it. Even if you don't think us being together is a good enough reason, you should do it for you. For your pack, and your sister.”

He reaches for Derek’s hand and squeezes it a little.

“You need this. And I, I don't think you want to risk either one of us any more than I do.”

Stiles looks into Derek’s eyes and tries to project his sincerity, tries to convey how much he really does care.

Derek's face still has that stubborn twist, but Stiles’ words makes it practically melt away, leaving dejected exhaustion behind.

“I just want to spend time with you. I wanted to give you a nice evening, take you out on a real date. Only I completely fucked that up, didn't I?” He snorts. “Pretty sure the restaurant's given our table away by now. Not that either of us is in shape to go out, I guess.”

Stiles appreciates the thought, he really does, but. He'd have appreciated a heads-up and an anchored Derek a lot more. He doesn't say anything about that though. Chances are Derek will have realized that himself by now, and if he hasn't, well, Stiles has had enough drama for one night.

They still do “dinner and a movie”, except instead of the restaurant and an actual movie theater Derek had planned for they order in food and watch Mulan on Stiles's laptop. Comfort movie – don't knock it. (Once it would have been the Lion King. Stiles kind of thinks Peter needs to die extra much for ruining that movie for him.)

Stiles doesn't even make it halfway through the movie. He blames the magic, though admittedly the fight before and the outpouring of feelings after didn't help. He's drained. So's Derek, apparently, because when Stiles wakes up a couple of hours later (slumped against Derek's shoulder) the wolf is out like a light.

So much for not being able to stay for long.

For a minute Stiles debates letting Derek sleep, but in the end pragmatism wins out. With how eager Derek was to see him, if he doesn't feel secure enough to stay for more than a couple of hours, then he's got to have a really good reason. Well. A pack of them probably.

And if in the end Derek does think staying is an option? He'll rest better laying down – even if it'll be on the floor, on the spare mattress. As nice as it felt just now, waking up with Derek's smell in his nose, and Derek's body heat close, the truth is that they're not at the bed-sharing stage yet.

Stiles isn't ready.

Somehow, he thinks that might be true for Derek too.

Less than a minute after Stiles closes the door behind Derek – he hasn't even made it into bed yet – his phone buzzes. “Let me in” the message reads. It's from Embry. Stiles...isn't surprised. He fully expected old Quil to let at least Jake and Sam know what's happened, and to be honest he's kind of impressed that it's taken this long for a wolf to show up. He's also impressed that it's just the one wolf, not the whole pack.

They do tend to see him as fragile, after all.

Regardless, it's always good to have his wolf with him. And if a part of him thinks it'd be even better with another wolf... Yeah, well. It is what it is. Also, one of the things it is is probably better this way.

For now.

The next morning Stiles intends to sneak out before Embry notices – it's called having an early class, okay? – but that's a bust. For one, Embry's awake before him, and besides, it turns out that Stiles is not fit for sneaking that morning. His head's a bit foggy, and he sways when trying to stand up. It's possible he could make it through class, but getting there might be a problem. It's not one he has to bother about though, because Embry takes one look at him, and pushes him back into bed.

“You're staying home today. No, I don't care how important this class is. Your health is more important. Right now? You'd just as likely break your neck stumbling on a cobblestone as make it to class in one piece.”

And well, he's not wrong. Stiles has stumbled over nothing more than once before, and today feels like just the kind of day when he could do that and end up seriously hurting himself while at it. Plus, the idea of spending the day in bed sounds lovely.

“Old Quil told me you'd probably be a wreck today. So, you are going to call school, then you're going to eat the breakfast I'm making you, and after that you're taking a nap. Okay?”

Stiles agrees, because yeah, he could do that. Also, nowhere did Embry mention talking about yesterday's train-wreck, so Stiles is just going to nod along and try to fall asleep before he can remember that.

Of course it's not quite that easy. He gets to nap in peace, and have lunch and a shower, and then a second nap, but that's it. Embry is patient, and smart, and waits until a ravenous Stiles is occupied with dinner before starting the interrogation. And Stiles is still fuzzy enough to not see it coming, or to come up with a good deflection for that matter.

“So. This is where you try and convince me I shouldn’t plan for me and Paul to take a trip to Beacon Hills.”

Stiles knows he must have that deer-in-the-headlights look. It’s not pretty - he’s seen pictures. Embry is patient though, waits him out until Stiles has managed to both find words and make his tongue cooperate.

“Because I’d be very unhappy with you both?” Okay, no, not a good reason. Not good enough anyway, not for anyone who cares about him.

He would be very unhappy, really, just… Embry’s going to need more convincing than that. Paul is definitely going to need more. They’ve seen him break. They have both made it very clear they don’t intend to let it happen again.

“Look, he fucked up. Not denying that. And he’s on his last chance, for real. Just, if I’m going to cut everyone who fucks up out of my life? I’m going to be very lonely. I’d also have to start with my dad, which obviously, not happening. Ever.

“What Derek did was idiotic, but also… I get it. I do. First of all, he warned me. Not that he’d do something like this,” Stiles hastens to add, because Embry’s beginning to really look murderous at that comment, “just, that he wouldn’t take only getting a small part of me well. Which, fair. I wouldn’t have given him a chance if I thought he would be happy with that. And you know, maybe I should have taken that as more of a warning than I did.

“But Derek, he… He’s been doing so much better, and it’s… Okay. It’s like when my dad was drinking too much after my mom, and then he cut down, only he couldn’t make himself admit that he was enough of an alcoholic by then that maybe what he needed to do wasn’t cut down but stop.”

By now John’s at a point where he can have a beer without a single warning bell going off in Stiles’s head. That’s only just now though, and well, John rarely does drink these days.

“And it’s kind of the same with Derek. He didn’t want to admit he wasn’t strong enough to do this without help. Just like I didn’t want to admit I couldn’t.”

Because honestly? There are so many instances where Stiles should have asked for help, should have asked anyone, and maybe things wouldn’t have gone to shit. Besides… He can understand why Derek would try and avoid getting help, regardless of his promises. Because underneath everything? There’s still the fact that Deaton was supposed to help him, and chose to cast spells on him instead. And Derek sure as hell should have been able to expect help from Peter, which… Yeah.

“I was so dead set on being able to do it myself I didn’t even think about getting help until after I flipped and tried to slit Paul’s throat. At least Derek didn’t almost kill someone.”

And wow, now Stiles really feels like crap. Plus Embry looks like he’s been kicked in the nads. Yup, this day is a clear contender for shitshow of the year.

“Maybe he didn’t. But I’m not sure I want to take that risk, not knowing what he could do to you. It’s not my show though, so I guess what matters is are you sure?”

“Sure enough to give him one more shot.” And then, because honesty is important here. “Unsure enough that I’m going to check that he gets his magic detox from now on. After today, he’s not getting within touching distance of me without clearance from either Dr Bianchi or old Quil, or both.”

Embry looks like that’s not good enough, and maybe it’s not. Stiles is going to let it be though. Or no. He’s going to believe that it will be good enough, and if it’s one thing he’s learned it’s that his belief? Can be pretty damned powerful.

~ TBC ~

[halekingsourwolf]

so i just discovered your fic list and oh gawd u don't know how happy i am with this discovery. thank u for this. anyway i just finished reading ur alternate meets canon fic and. i want to roll and jump and. oh my gawd i really wanna know what happened next?? do u have some other headcanons/ideas for this? is it ok with u to divulge them? no pressure if u don't want to though! just really wanted to thank u for it! i adore alternates meeting with canons so it was really a joy to read. thank u!

[FIC LINK] [Additional ask]

Oh anon, thank you loved the idea for that fic, had plans for it floating in my head for months before the ask got me to write it down. It was going to be this huge epic, like 100k words probably, switching between Derek and alt!Stiles in the canon universe and Stiles trying to make sense of the warped landscape of the alternate world he’d been thrown into. 

Derek’s just standing there in his bedroom doorway, looking softer than Stiles has ever seen him: his hair loose and ungelled, hanging over his forehead.

“Hey Derek,” he says, trying to blink his way back from the visual. “You look…”

“What?” He seems totally lost on what’s making Stiles stare, and after a few seconds Stiles decides not to even try explaining it. You look nice keeps running through his head, but that’s not close enough. It’s not that Derek never looks nice. (Hell, Derek always looks nice, but that’s a whole other issue.) He looks happy sometimes too, and that’s the only other word Stiles can pull up that edges close to accurate. You’re in my bedroom is the third, half-formed option, but that’s happened before too. It’s just something about the combination of those things right now, and the comfortable way he’s standing in the space  –– hands not in his pockets, shoulders not slumping in like he’s offended by the general pressure of someone else’s air –– that’s catching Stiles up. And there’s no way to fit any of that into words.

“You’ve got flour on your shirt,” he says instead, and Derek glances down with a soft laugh. Brushes the powder off so it wafts out in a soft cloud between them. The open smile he’s wearing when he looks up again is enough to make Stiles heart tug with how devastatingly dreamlike this all is.

“I was making breakfast,” he answers, and Stiles blinks. Ok, yeah. So, definitely a dream.

I had an entire timeline listed out for the alternate universe –– how things had all gone differently, in a chain reaction starting with Laura surviving Peter’s attack (link to that scene, if you’re interested) and just cascading outward, through the fracturing of Scott and Stiles’ friendship when a very human Scott was lured into the Argent side of the divide (via his interest in Allison and, ironically, concern for Stiles and the dangers of “vicious werewolves”) and Stiles sided with Laura and Derek. 

“Wait… I still got with Allison, even if I wasn’t…”

“You two are so together it’s disgusting, alright? Apparently she hit a dog with her car and you guys got to know each other at the animal clinic and right after that you two were like, destined. A week in I could see like… wedding bells and white picket fences going on in your head. It was obnoxious and I was thrilled for you, dude. And then all the hunter crap happened.”

How Laura being alive kept Derek from being quite as dark and broken as he was in the first few seasons, how she made the executive decision to bring the Sheriff in early to earn his trust and support against hunters and supernatural threats alike, and how the town more or less broke down into a cold war zone between the werewolf and hunter sides of the conflict.

The tragedy is that somewhere in all that planning and preparation my detailed notes and timeline completely vanished. I have no idea how. Pages of details and alt!character development and plot planning… and all I have left is a page or so of scenes and stray quote segments, and I just don’t remember enough about the details to make it the way it originally would have. I can tell you a few details, though, and maybe throw in a few of the excerpts too.

I know that it still took a long time for Stiles and Derek to come together. Stiles had sided with the werewolves mainly because Laura had come to the Sheriff (and the Sheriff, remembering the fire and the lost kids the Hales had been when he’d told them the news, and appreciating finally being handed answers to all the mysteries that don’t quite add up in this town, agreed to work with them at least to stop Peter… and then the bond just built from there), and because it had been the right thing to do. And Derek wasn’t shattered the way he was in canon season one maybe, but he was still Derek. Laura’s skeptical, snarky, and untrusting little brother, the cynic to her careful optimism. And Stiles is sarcastic and blunt and, in this version of reality, also hurt and bitter from losing his best friend to the enemy, so he wasn’t exactly super open to bonding with one of the reasons Scott wasn’t around anymore. (It was easier to forgive Laura, who was more sympathetic, but Derek’s general if he sided with hunters he’s not worth having around anyway attitude did not help relations early on.) Stiles and Derek butted heads and snarked constantly at first but their alliance against Peter and the hunters, various life-or-death situations, and Laura’s friendship with the Sheriff (especially when he took her on as a deputy), kept them close, and eventually they fell together just like they’re always going to.

Beacon Hills is a constant danger zone, though, because the hunter threat still hasn’t died. Scott reaches out to Stiles from time to time, earnestly believing every Argent lie that wolves are dangerous monsters and that Stiles is going to get himself killed for being with them. But he’s basically a hunter at this point, believes their philosophy because he’s been on the Argents’ side in every showdown, and honestly thinks Stiles and the Sheriff have been seduced by the Hales’ supernatural wiles (Kate has indoctrinated Scott and Allison with a very different version of her history with Derek) and he needs to do whatever he can to save his former best friend from them.

“Scott’s not a werewolf?”

“What?” Stiles starts to laugh, before his brows arch sharply. “Oh my god, you’re serious. No. No, Scott’s practically married in with the Argents; he’d probably kill himself if he got the bite.” Bitterness floods his features; he fights and fails to smooth it away.

And Stiles is wounded and bitter and cuts off any attempt at contact from his old friend because they’ve both chosen their sides, there’s too much bad blood, and thinking about Scott as anything more than the enemy or the creep who’s allied with killers is too painful at this point.

Lydia’s also in with the Argents, from virtue of being Allison’s best friend and having been smart enough to catch on after a couple months that something decidedly supernatural was going on. She’s a very different Lydia, though, having never had her banshee powers awakened (she was never bitten by Alpha!Peter because… well, there was no Alpha!Peter) and is likely still more similar to her pre-Peter-possession self. I had a lot more details about all of the side characters and how they fit into the developing arc, but most of it’s sadly lost now.

[bhadpodcast]

princeescaluswords dude: the only true crime in Season 5A was the fact that Scott didn’t believe a screaming, wrench-waving, vicious, paranoid liar. // Except Stiles is canonically a mentally illed character and referring to mentally illed charcaters (or real persons) using derogarory terms such as screaming, wrench-waving, vicious, paranoid liar on purpose just to convince yourself your personal favorite and murderer-wannabe Scoot Mccall is the most perfect and interesting fictional character ever? That’s ABLEISM. Oh and for the record? The only true crimes in season 5 were Trumpalpha Scott choosing to put everyone’s life at risk by blindly trusting a stranger. Scott kicking his mentally illed “BFF” out of the pack - without bothering to ask the pack’s opinion first btw - because his mentally illed “BFF” dared to kill someone in self defence; Scott letting a stranger creep into his girlfriend’s bedroom to record her sleeping without her consent; Scott blaming everyone but himself for blindly trusting a stranger and putting his friends’ (and his own) life at risk in the process; Scott working and conspiring with Deucalion behind everyone’s back to murder a pack of scared and mentally unstable kids; Scott being dumb enough to blindly trust a stranger and let said stranger in the pack without even questioning said stranger’s true motives first. And that’s just season 5! There are also season 1-2-3-4… So either watch the actual show or stop being a bitter ableist troll who ignores everything canon just ‘cause it doesn’t fit your personal agenda ;P

And s6b lbr, even though that season wasn’t really about him.

[voidstilesplease]

untitled 3/?

~•~

Theo is always second.

He is the second son, the second businessman, the second acknowledged, the second option, the second opinion, the second to know, the second they ask about, the second to receive glances. He is never first, maybe because his entire identity is a hand-me-down.

He is an orphan - was - before the Hales adopted him. He was ten and an addict. His father used to inject him just for fun - but it was all right if it dulled his empty stomach from the feeling of hunger. His father died in a drug raid and left Theo to fend for himself. His father had all of two dollars in his pockets. How was Theo to survive without money and relatives to take him? The answer to that was an orphanage where the Hales were sponsors. He didn't know how he was able to charm the couple - probably it was during his rehabilitation period to wean him of toxin dependency. But in less than five months, he was out of the institution and into the Hale mansion.

The Hales owned businesses from advertising to small food chains. The two largest are the sister companies Alpha Advertisements in New York and Beta Promotions in California. They said as an official Hale he could be managing one of the branches in the future.

Theo set out to do just that.

But he is always second - second to the Hales' only son, Derek.

It was always transparent that Derek did not like him from the beginning, as well. Theo had developed a good relationship with his adoptive sisters Laura and Cora. But he and Derek had long had an unspoken agreement that they weren't going be friends, much less be brothers.

God, he hates Derek. It isn't enough that he's a real son. He also has to be the better one. He always has to be first.

•••

Theo is not thrilled to be going home to New York. But Laura is going to get married to her soulmate, and he loves his sister. So, he leaves Beta Promos and flies to the other side of the States.

Theo spends the entire flight listening to Laura's pre-recorded gushing about her soulmate. Theo rolls his eyes every time Laura says the word. It's an old belief, soulmates, but they still exist today. Everyone is born with a red cord around their little finger. It hangs about three inches long with its tip glowing in soft sparks, like a severed thread. Only they can see the string unless it connects to their soul-bonded. The red cord then lengthens and ties around the finger of its other half. Only a few people meet their soulmates in their lifetime. Most live and die without finding the other end of their thread. And Theo's all right with that. His parents had been soulmates. But Theo's older sister died, and his mother followed a year later by overdosing. His dad had turned to drugs after losing them. Then, Theo lost him, too. Even soulmates aren't guaranteed a perfect life. They can even be destructive. Maybe it's for the best if they never cross paths at all.

•••

He wakes up the next day in his hotel room and notices it. 

The thread in his finger has expanded. He no longer sees the glowing tip - there is no more tip. Instead, there's a bright red cord flowing from his bed. Then, down to the floor, and out of the hotel room door. 

Theo's stunned. He pries his hand and stares at it wide-eyed. Experimentally, Theo tugs at the string - it feels concrete in his touch, instead of the usual semi-abstract existence. He can't believe it. His "soulmate" is somewhere close.

But when his initial shock has subsided, he decides to disregard the string. He doesn't have time for soulmates. He's going back to California after the wedding and obsesses over his work in the company. Theo will outrun Derek in the race. 

That's where his soul bonds to, not to some stranger that he's never going to love, anyway.

•••

He's supposed to meet Laura in the Alpha building before going out for the lunch date they had arranged weeks prior. So, Theo gets into the vehicle that Laura sent and rides the way to Alpha Ads in contemplative silence.

He enters the property thirty minutes later and is aware that his red string continues inside the building. He tries to neglect it once more, but when he steps out of the elevator to Derek's floor, he gives up on his avoidance. The string's other end is somewhere on that same floor, and it bothers him to no end. Barely catching the assistant droning on in his tail, Theo holds the thread and starts following its tug. 

He doesn't hear the assistant trying desperately to call his attention when he comes face-to-face with Derek's office door. He's only half-aware of the new voice attempting to warn Theo. The string goes through to the other side, so without second thoughts, he pushes it open.

What he sees is not exactly unexpected. Theo has heard from Laura that Derek has a younger boyfriend, about Theo's age, who works at a law firm owned by a Hale family friend. Theo's seen pictures, as well. And Cora has said his name is Polish from his roots, and a mouthful to pronounce, so he goes by the nickname Stiles. Theo has no doubt that the tall, slender man perched on Derek's glass table is that Stiles. 

He never imagined seeing him in person. Derek is not the long-term relationship type; one of the few things Theo understands and can relate to him. Stiles has been the first one to pass the six-month mark --- but they're not soulmates. Laura has said so. Which isn't a problem, she said, because she likes Stiles. Cora is friends with Stiles; their parents adore Stiles, and Derek has never willingly introduced anybody into the household. It's pretty apparent that Derek caught feelings this time. They didn't need to be soulmates to work. They didn't need to be soulmates to love.

Derek jerks back from his previous position in between Stiles's legs, hands clutching the man's hips and sucking at his pale neck. Stiles also promptly leaps off the table, flushed from ear-tip down to his collarbone, trying to smooth down the creases of his clothes. Derek turns slightly aside, hands reaching to adjust himself in his pants, before turning back around and sending Theo his most vicious glare.

Derek signals his assistant, hovering awkwardly by the door, face horror-filled - at catching her boss getting it on with his boyfriend, or for having no power to stop Theo from interrupting; he doesn't care either way - to close the door. When it's shut firmly, Derek doesn't waste time barking his displeasure.

"You can't barge into my office unannounced, Theo! Are you crazy?"

But Theo doesn't hear it. His eyes are on Stiles.

His eyes are on the other end of his red string.

•••

He laughs, bitter and dry.

Theo is always second. He's even second at finding his soul mate.

•••

The joke's on Derek. Maybe soulmates are meant to cross paths. 

Fuck if Theo's going to let Derek win this time.

~•~

check out this lovely moodboard by @sunel0. I can't appreciate it enough 😍🖤

[edit 12.30.20]

[colethewolf]

The Sterek Fandom is NOT responsible for making fanwork to supplement other Teen Wolf ships.

I’ve said this before, but every once in a while, there seems to be a resurgence of bullshit from Anti-Stereks that feel as though the Sterek Fandom is responsible for making non-Sterek related fanwork so that other ships/pairings/characters don’t feel left out.

That’s bullshit.

For years, the Sterek fandom was hounded by bullies who wanted nothing to do with our existence. We were told to leave the Teen Wolf fandom. We were told to stop watching the show. We were made to feel unwelcome by the show, by fellow fans, and by actual actors from the show. In response, The Sterek Fandom decided to detach ourselves from the Teen Wolf Fandom and become a fandom of our own. 

We decided to write Sterek fanfiction. We decided to plan Sterek-related events and themed Sterek Weeks. We decided to create Sterek fanwork. I’ve seen books, calendars, t-shirts, posters, playing cards, holiday cards, blankets, pillows, comic books, keychains, coffee mugs, etc... The Sterek Fandom built itself into something for Sterek fans to enjoy, so that we didn’t have to feel unwelcome and suffer through endless torment from people that hated us because we shipped Sterek.

But despite not even being connected to the main fandom of the show anymore, and despite most of us no longer watching the show, and despite Stiles & Derek not existing within the show itself anymore, The Sterek Fandom STILL receives butthurt messages and posts from Anti-Sterekers, who have become so lost inside of their own bitterness that they lash out in jealously over Sterek’s continued thriving existence.

The idea that Sterek fans need to write fanfic about anything other than Sterek is bullshit. The idea that Sterek fans need to focus on characters other than Derek Hale and/or Stiles Stilinski is bullshit. The idea that Sterek fans are “racist” for writing fanfiction about Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale but not also worshiping Scott McCall in the same breath is fucking ridiculous, trivial, and an insulting mockery of what racism actually means.

It should be common sense, but how many times do Sterek fans need to remind people that Sterek Fanfiction is always about Sterek? If any other pairings or relationships or characters are mentioned, they’re going to take a backseat and/or not even be mentioned at all because the fanfiction is about Sterek. Written by Sterek shippers. Posted by a Sterek shipper. For the Sterek Fandom.

Recently, I have read through some of the dumbest arguments about why “Sterek fans need to be required to write about other ships, other characters, and make fanwork about things other than Sterek”. I’ve seen Anti-Sterekers, people who have spent countless hours bullying/harassing Sterek shippers, actually try to play the argument that since Sterek is so popular, we should have to write fics so that less popular ships can also thrive.

Again, bullshit. 

This isn’t political. This isn’t some sort of “the rich should have to share their wealth with the oppressed minorities”. This has absolutely nothing to do with things like oppressed vs. the oppressors. This is about a fandom NOT having to spend their free-time making things about something other than their fandom. 

Let it be known. The Sterek Fandom  ≠ The Teen Wolf Fandom. We haven’t been connected to the Teen Wolf fandom for years and we’ve thrived because of it. We don’t have to weigh ourselves down with threatening and cruel remarks because we ship something so much bigger than the show itself. But even if we were still connected to the Teen Wolf Fandom, The Stereks STILL don’t have to push out Non-Sterek fanwork for other people. 

Fanwork is created out of the time and talent of fans. Sterek fans have their lives, and they use their precious free-time to write, draw, design, and create what they want to add to all of the other beautiful Sterek fanwork. We don’t need to create anything other than Sterek-related material. And we especially don’t have to create anything for people who bullied us and made us feel low because we shipped Sterek and didn’t want to pay attention to some of the boring elements and characters that existed in the show. 

The Sterek Fandom currently has 46,144 fanworks on Archive of our Own. We didn’t get to this monumental amount of beautiful work because we complained to people and forced them to write fanfic for us. We took the time, put in the effort, sat through the editing, the planning, fleshed out our visions, and made something for ourselves (first and foremost) and also for our fellow Sterek fans to enjoy.

I’ve seen the arguments that Sterek fanfics should have to include Scott McCall as a main character because he’s the titular character of the show. I’ve seen arguments that Sciles/Skittles (Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski) is a better ship than Sterek. I’ve seen arguments that Scerek (Scott McCall/Derek Hale) is a better ship than Sterek. These are nothing more than mere opinions that make some Sciles/Scerek/Scott/Anti-Sterek stans feel as though the Sterek Fandom owes them something in return.

We don’t. We never will. 

At the present moment, Sciles has 2,821 fanworks on Ao3. Scerek has 748 fanworks. Honestly, I have one single word to say to Sciles/Scerek fans that feel underwhelmed by the amount of fanfics available and have turned to shaming Stereks because you think it’ll get us to write you fanfic...

Work.

Sterek fans worked. We spent time, energy, and talent for days, weeks, months, and years to built the massive amount of glorious Sterek fanfics that we have now. We didn’t start with 46,144 fics. We started at ZERO. At one point in time, years & years ago, we also had 2,821 fics. Even more long ago, we had 748 fics. But we kept working. We kept creating. We kept writing. 

It’s honestly up to you guys to write for yourselves. Sterek fans owe you nothing in return. Though, there are some very nice Sterek fans that frequently take prompts and spend their time writing things that don’t necessary line up with their usual work. Sometimes they write Sciles or Scerek. But Sterek shippers don’t have a debt to pay back to bullies and people who think they deserve something for nothing. 

To Sterek Shippers: You don’t need to write anything other than Sterek if you don’t want to. You don’t need to create fanwork for anything other than Sterek is you don’t wish to. Don’t let vicious bullies try to guilt you into doing what you don’t have to do. Keep writing & don’t feel discouraged.

To Anti-Sterekers that feel as though Sterek shippers owe you and your favorite pairings/characters something: Put in some of your time and start writing for yourself. If there’s a prompt out there that you want to see done for your favorite ship, write it yourself. If you feel as though there’s not enough fics out there about how “great” Scott McCall, write it for yourself. If you think Sciles/Scerek are more interesting than Sterek, then write it for yourself.

Sterek fans don’t owe anything to anybody. The Sterek Fandom is NOT part of the Teen Wolf Fandom. Sterek started back in 2011. The ship name is the combination of the names Stiles Stilinski & Derek Hale, two characters who don’t even exist on the show anymore. You shouldn’t be surprised when a Sterek fanfic focuses on Sterek. 

In closing,

Sterek is eternal. We write for ourselves and for our ship, not because you think that you control our creativity and time. The show that introduced us to the characters of Stiles & Derek might be ending, but the Sterek fandom continues to cherish the characters and the ship.

[myownbestblog]

Last Midnight

Show: Into the Woods Character: Witch (minor interjection by Baker, Little Red Ridinghood, and Cinderella) Time Period: Once Upon a Time Style/Mood: anger, frustration, scary, call-out, mean, dark, rage, fury, resentment, wrath, creepy, chilling, powerful, power, forceful, fierce, commanding, authoritative, bitter, bitterness, hate, desperate, desperation, dynamic, strong, unnerving, unsettling, callous, malicious, harsh, cruel, severe Character Type: mother, magic, kidnap, kidnapper, garden, gardener, witch, protective, overprotective, overbearing, abuse, abusive, caring, shielding, jealous, domineering, selfish, controlling, arrogant, bossy, haughty, manipulative, envious, resentful, cruel, self-serving, overreactive, authoritative, proud, arrogant, conceited, scheming, calculating, spiteful, angry, frustrated, practical, short-tempered, mean, punishing, harsh, hard, forbidding, loving, narcissistic, commanding, imposing, confident, conniving, violent, hurt, vain, shrewd, malicious, nasty, mean, unpleasant, impatient, irritable, quick-tempered, callous, unkind, strict, severe, sad, tough, hostile, dark, fond, devoted, tender, forceful, power, powerful, fierce, ferocious, vicious, astute, smart, wise, malevolent, deep, affectionate, dynamic, aggressive, judicious, maternal, parent, morally grey husband, father, working, worker, poor, childless, barren, hopeful, hope, fairy tale, widow, empathetic, sympathetic, kind, concerned, determined, determination, caring, compassionate, teamwork, independent, reluctant, weak, loner, dreaming, wishing, wish, searching, longing, weak-willed, conscience, kind, son, baker, desperate, legit, anxious, worried, despairing, protective, thoughtful, gentle, considerate, troubled, afraid, disturbed, unwilling, hesitant, moral, ethical, mild, wise, stubborn; young, innocent, brash, survivor, youthful, child, childlike, awakening, naïve, gullible, hardened, impulsive, troubled, daughter, granddaughter, inexperienced, coming of age, hasty, petulant, impetuous, rash, foolhardy, fighter, tough, kid, unexperienced, inexperienced, immature, green, adolescent, grandchild, energetic, susceptible, trusting, believing, wishing, thoughtless, hungry, active, bouncy, peppy, animated, comedic, bouncing, spirited, juvenile, lively, playful, sprightly, perky, funny, thoughtless, inconsiderate, lost, foolish, violent, angry, vicious, forceful, troubled, anxious, worried; princess, wistful, contemplative, pensive, melancholy, reflective, longing, ingenue, confused, exasperated, conflicted, curious, desperate, independent, servant, regal, clumsy, good, pure-hearted, intelligent, thoughtful, meek, wise, lost, dreamer, idealist, romantic, loving, kind, smart, gentle, compassionate, benevolent, moral, virtuous, quick-thinking, resourceful, clever, bright, caring, generous, wishing, nice, monarch, royalty, annoyed, frustrated, distressed, domestic, awkward, frantic, humble, timid, shy, submissive, sensible, loving, realist, wife, tender, devoted, daughter, mourning, fair, young, optimistic, optimist, positive, positivity, imaginative, distraught, troubled, indecisive, hesitant, uncertain, cautious, pure, legit, lover, survivor, dreamer, sister, fairy tale Age: adult/older adult; young adult/adult; child/teenager/young adult; teenager/young adult/adult Vocal Type: Mezzo Popularity: Into the Woods is a well-known show. This is a more well-known piece. Composer: Stephen Sondheim Race: not specified Famous Performers: Bernadette Peters, Cleo Laine, Julia McKenzie, Vanessa Williams, Hannah Waddingham, Donna Murphy, Meryl Streep; Chip Zien, Ian Bartholomew, Stephen DeRosa, Clive Rowe, Mark Hadfield, Denis O’Hare, David Harris, James Corden; Danielle Ferland, Molly Ephraim, Suzie Toase, Sarah Stiles, Lilla Crawford ; Kim Crosby, Kathleen Rowe McAllen, Jacqui Dankworth, Laura Benanti, Helen Dallimore, Jessie Mueller, Lucy Maunder, Anna Kendrick Type of Song: Solo with a removable interjection. Notes: There are two versions of this song. Both will be linked. Video Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N87Mk5GUmtg (original) (includes “You Fault”)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IEa599dP3Ck (revival)

[studydiamondd-blog]

[monday xxiii/i/mmxviii] hello i have decided to put together this small list of quotes from a few tv shows i have watched that i feel are inspiring and motivational so i hope you enjoy. Doctor Who- "The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don't always soften the bad but vice-versa, the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant" - The 11th Doctor "Some people live more in twenty years than others do in eighty. It's not the time that matters. It's the person" - The 10th Doctor "Don't give up. Not ever. Not for one single day. Be safe, if you can be. But always be amazing." - Clara Oswald "Pain is a gift. Without the capacity for pain we can't feel the hurt we inflict" - The 12th Doctor "Fear doesn't have to make you cruel or cowardly. Fear can make you kind" - Clara Oswald "You don't just give up. You don't just let things happen. You make a stand! You say no! You have the guts to do what's right, even what everyone else just runs away." - Rose Tyler Supernatural- "Honestly, I think the world's going to end bloody. But it doesn't mean we shouldn't fight. We do have choices. I choose to go down swingin'" - Dean Winchester "You don't have to be ruled by fate. You can choose freedom. And I still believe that that's something worth fighting for." - Castiel Sherlock (bbc)- "Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator." - Sherlock Holmes "Fear is wisdom in the face of danger, it is nothing to be ashamed of." - Sherlock Holmes Teen Wolf- "You don't fight for a leader. You fight for a leader's cause." - Derek Hale "It can be pretty extraordinary what the force of your own will can accomplish" - Dr. Deaton "Then think about what Winston Churchill once said: If you're going through hell... keep going!" - Ms. Morell "It's okay to want something for yourself once in a while, you're still only human" - Stiles Stilinski

[voidstilesplease]

ludus

steo + the types of love

"Hey," Malia says, shouldering her backpack. "I have to go."

Theo looks up from the book he scans. Malia's forehead is creased with lines as she waves a hand to Stiles's sleeping figure on the table across from his seat. Theo bobs his head, "Yeah, I'll tell him."

She nods and hurries out of the library. It's late, and they're with the last few still puttering around. The pack and Theo have been in the library almost every vacant period between classes. Except for Lydia, because she's still in the hospital after the encounter with the werewolf-kanima. They're looking into helpful information about a Chimera, and Stiles falls asleep while at it.

Theo glances down at the boy and can't help but give a soft smile. He's still a little in disbelief that Stiles is a werewolf, much more that he has blue eyes. From what the Argent hunters have taught him, shapeshifters with that eye color indicate that they have taken an innocent life and has become tainted deep inside. When he looks at Stiles, he doesn't see someone capable of hurting anybody. Then again, a lot has happened that none of them seem to want to discuss. They look like a strong group externally, but in the short time Theo's been around, he can tell that they're not as honest with each other. Theo wants to know, but he can't force them to divulge secrets they'd rather bury - especially not Stiles. 

He does learn that Stiles lost his mother shortly after Theo's family left Beacon Hills. And Theo, well, he understands losing people. It fucks you up even if it's not apparent on the outside - still water runs deep.

Theo hears murmurs downstairs and peeks to see the other students filtering out. They're officially the only ones left, and it's close to 11:00.

"Stiles," he nudges the boy in his shoulder. Stiles's immediate reaction is to jerk hard and whip his head with a snarl, his eyes glowing blue. When he sees it's Theo, he recoils.

Stiles's face pinches in embarrassment, and he hurries to apologize. "Sorry, I didn't," he covers his face with his hands and rubs, exhaling. "Fuck, sorry," he looks up again, looking like he's about to beat himself up with a stick. "I'm just a little on edge with all the," he pauses and flings his arms on the open Bestiary, then finishes with the loudest exasperated sigh.

"Hey," Theo smiles to dissipate his worry. "It's fine. We're all at our wit's end."

"I shouldn't have flashed my eyes, Theo," He points shamefully. "What if it wasn't you?"

"But it was, so." 

Stiles's response is to wearily sag in his seat and rub his eyes with the heels of his hands. Theo closes the Bestiary for him and stands. "Come on, let's get some rest."

Stiles nods and gathers his items into his bag, posture, and expression still taut.

"Stop brooding," Theo attempts to ease his nerves again. "I admit it looks hot on you, but it can also get you wrinkles."

Stiles falters from his packing and turns to Theo, mouth ajar, caught off guard, "You think I'm hot when I frown?"

"You got me," Theo zips his bag and replies casually, as he swings it on one shoulder. "I think you're hot all the time."

Theo's straight face pulls a little tug on the corners of Stiles's lips. He plays along, "Well, relax on the compliment, Theo. Next thing you know, you're dating a werewolf."

"The Hunter and the Werewolf," Theo announces with a slanting smile. "The next classic tale of star-crossed lovers."

It makes Stiles chuckle, but his look is faraway and pensive. He murmurs in thought, "We can't have another of that tragedy, can we?"

Theo scoffs, "Please. You and me against Shakespeare. The dude doesn't stand a chance."

Theo counts it as a success that he coaxes another soft laugh from Stiles, even if the sad look on his face lingers.

***

Theo hears the conflict before he sees it. He rushes to open his trunk and grabs the crossbow he finds there and runs back inside the school. Stiles and Theo's cars are in different areas, so they separated after checking out of the library. Now, he seems to be retracing his steps back to it as he follows the sound of fighting.

When he finally reaches the library, he pushes open the door and comes face-to-face with a silver-eyed wendigo with teeth appearing from different parts of his body. The creature bares sets of sharp teeth and launches.

The mutant is powerful, as they have just ironically read from the additional entries of the Bestiary:

These vicious supernatural creatures were an unwelcome discovery among the native people of the new world. They are known to have an uncontrollable appetite for human flesh which leads them to kill despite any better judgment they might process.

Sneaky creatures, Wendigos can maintain a human appearance while hiding multiple fanged teeth (similar to Kanimas) behind their lips. However, when in their true form, Wendigos’ eyes shimmer with a white glow.

While there may be a tactical strike known to kill these supernatural cannibals among the tribes who have been most affected by Wendigos, it is yet unknown to us.

He chucks Theo's weapon before he can shoot and tosses him down on the floor. He snags his silver knife but doesn't get a chance to strike. Suddenly, Stiles springs from the second floor, growling as his claws slash the wendigo's back.

The creature howls in pain and smacks Stiles backward. The boy hits some scaffolding for interior construction, and metal bars fall from it. It all happens too fast, but then suddenly over.

Stiles manages to grapple for one of the bars and impales the wendigo with it. Soon, blood and mercury flood the library floor.

***

He's in Stiles's bed, watching as the boy writes and scrubs at his plexiglass crime board. 

Donovan is not dead - walked out.

Donovan is dead.

Someone took the body.

Stiles looks conflicted. His hands keep wringing, and he's sweating excessively. He glares at the words as if doing that will straighten his confusion.

Theo is confused, too. As Donovan, the wendigo bled out, Theo takes Stiles back to his jeep. The boy hesitated, but he dialed 911 and reported the body. The officers in the area were quick to check, but the radio came back with a 653 - a prank call.

They went back as soon as the police were gone. And indeed, the library stands clean of any evidence of the struggle.

Theo isn't surprised when Stiles slams the eraser on the board in his frustration. He allows Stiles the space to let his anger out.

Later, when Stiles has calmed down, they lay face-to-face on their sides in the same bed Stiles called him a friend five years ago. It's not premeditated, but they maneuver themselves in their current position like it's only natural to do so.

"We'll figure this out," Theo speaks first.

Stiles only become more miserable. He says in a soft, downhearted voice, "I will lose my best friend,"

"You won't. It's self-defense."

"Not when I have the capacity to restrain," Stiles sounds bitter. "I'm a damn werewolf, Theo. And now a murderer again."

Theo frowns at his words, "We'll figure this out." he repeats, slowly, in insistence. Stiles has just referred to the reason his eyes are blue, but Theo doesn't think it's the time. Tonight, they evaded death. It's only a necessity to fight for their lives. We hunt that which hunts us.

Stiles eventually drowses off, exhaustion winning over, and Theo can't help but reach out to smooth the lines in his face. He mutters in the quiet of the night, "We already defied William tonight, Stiles."

Stiles's reply is a gentle puff of breath.

"We won't be a tragedy," he promises. "We already have too much of that.

But, not us."

~•~

playful love: is the flirtatious love commonly found in the beginning stages of a relationship. (catalyst: emotion)