#die and come back to life. like. yeah. human scott died in the woods that night

[bericas]

scott appreciation week (day 1) → a teenage boy

that's the way every day goes, every time we've no control.

[when-they-write-stuff]

-

Stiles thought the best way to end things was to never let them start in the first place. 

That’s what his case seemed to be anyway.

See, if something started, it had to end. Stiles had learned that the hard way over and over again during his life. His mom’s sickness came and didn’t go away until it had stripped her from him in every way possible. Then he’d been thrust into the chaotic world of werewolves, banshees, and hunters, and he was pretty sure it was all going to end with his inevitable doom.

Things always came to an end one way or another. So eventually, Stiles had decided it was easier to just never let them start.

That began with the case of Lydia Martin.

Stiles’s mom used to tell him that if he put his mind to something, there was nothing that could stand in his way. Of course, that hadn’t worked when she’d gotten sick and he’d decided there was no way she could ever die. Fate couldn’t be that cruel. Stiles had told himself one day that parents couldn’t die and fully believed afterward, that if he set his mind to that fact, she’d live forever.

That changed the day of the funeral. Not before, not even when he’d been alone in the hospital and the heart monitor had gone flat. No, it’d taken him a lot longer than that to realize she was gone and… and parents could die.

People could in general.

The next thing he set his mind to was Lydia Martin. There was something about sharp green eyes and the way she looked when solving a problem that made him think maybe, maybe, this was what his mom had meant. That some things were just meant to be.

Stiles was ten when he set his mind to Lydia Martin. 

He was sixteen when she set her own to Jackson Whittemore.

Or maybe, he thought, it was less of her mind and more of her heart. And that’s what really mattered, wasn’t it?

Seventeen-year-old Stiles ended up being determined. Not in any way particular anymore, no. He was determined in general; determined to survive, determined to get through the rest of his teenage years without becoming werewolf chow or prey to whatever else Beacon Hills brought. 

It all started with the case of Lydia Martin. It ended that way too. 

And honestly, Stiles didn’t think it was all bad, necessarily. He was the sidekick, the token human. He had this baseball bat, a can of wolfsbane pepper spray, and his trusty jeep. Stiles Stilinski was the kid in the red hoodie, where it was darker in certain spots from bloodstains that never fully washed away. Things didn’t need to start with him, because they had already begun with the people who actually mattered.

But then there was the matter of Derek Hale.

The first time Stiles had run into the werewolf in the middle of the woods, his brain had gone nope, scary, bad. There was something about Derek that Stiles couldn’t put his finger on. The man scared him half to death for the entirety of his freshman year and then one day, Stiles realized he wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

Derek Hale was difficult to figure out. When Stiles was faced with a problem, he liked to take his time. Figure it out. 

With his mom, it had been something involving hope. See, Stiles had known she was sick. He wasn’t young enough to think that couldn’t happen. But he didn’t quite put it all together until after weeks of watching the nurses move in and out of his mom’s hospital room, with their notepads and checklists that he could never make out the words of.

One of the nurses gave him his own pad and red-inked pen one day. She told him to draw whatever he wanted, as if sitting in the same chair for hours on end wasn’t healthy. Looking back now, Stiles supposed maybe it wasn’t.

That was probably the first time he’d tried to solve a puzzle like the adults did. He’d always sucked at drawing anyway.

Red was unsolved. 

Stiles still owned that red pen.

For Lydia Martin, Stiles tried to step up his game. He made this ten-year plan that was destined to go right. The more details, the better, he thought. Except maybe ten years wasn’t enough, or maybe he’d skipped over some important step, because it never ended up happening. 

Stiles bought the whiteboard when werewolves became a thing. A whiteboard with red string, yellow string, and green. Then at some point, there was blue too. Stiles couldn’t really remember when that happened.

It kind of snuck up on him. Like the matter of Derek Hale.

Oh— fucking Derek Hale.

Things started to end when fucking Derek Hale kissed him.

-

Stiles couldn’t exactly remember what had put Derek in a bad mood, but the man had been stomping around for weeks with an expression that constantly promised murder. Stiles supposed if he was smart, he would have stuck with the rest of the pack and avoided the man like the plague, but Stiles never claimed to be smart.

Clever, sometimes. But not smart. Not often, at least.

Erica thought his bad mood was caused by the last threat they faced; a rather bloodthirsty hunter who had shot Derek in the chest. It’d taken the man three days to fully heal, so Stiles thought that was possible.

But he could never get a good read on the werewolf, okay? Red was unsolvable. Derek was unsolvable. The man was like a riddle Stiles hadn’t been able to solve and no matter what angle he looked at the werewolf from, he hadn’t been able to figure Derek Hale out.

Not yet, at least.

And then there was the argument.

To be fair, Stiles didn’t argue with Derek as often as he did someone like Jackson. Sure, he often drove Derek to flash red eyes or occasionally threaten to rip his head off, but that was just their relationship. Stiles drove him crazy and when Lydia gave him that knowing look, he pretended the man didn’t exist until their next ‘I’ll rip your throat out’ type of conversation.

But this time was different. This time, Stiles had almost— only almost though— gotten himself ripped apart by a rogue omega. And then Derek was red-eyed right from the beginning.

And Stiles sometimes had a tendency to push.

“I’m just saying,” he said, crossing his arms to Derek’s rather murderous expression. “If I were any one of the other pack members, you would have clapped me on the back for taking the omega out.”

“You nearly got yourself killed, Stiles,” Derek growled. “You were stupid and reckless, and you put yourself and the pack in danger!”

“I have a baseball bat for a reason, asshole! I can take care of myself!”

The man looked livid, the red in his eyes not even close to the minor turn-on that Stiles sometimes found it to be. But it wasn’t like any of this was his fault, really. Sure, he’d gotten a little scratched up, but it wasn’t like the rest of the pack had gotten off scott-free. Stiles had seen his chance and he’d taken it, knocking the omega right out with his recently upgraded steel baseball bat.

If anything Derek should be thanking him, not flipping out.

“It’s just because I’m human,” Stiles said hotly. Derek growled again.

“It’s not just that.”

“Then what else is it, Derek? All my limbs are still intact and there’s still life in this token human’s lungs, so I think that counts as a win! The omega was about to rip Isaac’s throat out anyway, so I did a good thing!”

“You did a stupid thing.”

Stiles drew back, seething. It wasn’t like this was the first time Derek had chewed him out for doing something ‘irresponsible’ or ‘stupid’ but usually Scott was around to keep one of them from committing murder. The loft was empty this time, though, the rest of the pack having gone out to celebrate while Derek had all but forced Stiles back to the loft to take a look at his injures.

Which were scratches. Stiles got worse at lacrosse practice.

“Whatever,” he said, turning away. “I’m going to meet up with the rest of the pack. Scott said he’d buy me fries for being a badass. Which I was, asshole.”

“Dammit, Stiles!”

Stiles clenched his jaw and spun back around. The red had faded a little from Derek’s eyes, but he still looked murderous. And wouldn’t that be unfortunate it Stiles had survived being torn to shreds only to have his throat ripped out by Derek Hale?

“I just—” The man took a step forward and then grimaced, folding his arms over his chest again. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“But just me.”

“The others can heal.”

“Allison can’t.”

Derek’s eyes flashed. “Allison is a hunter. She’s had training.”

“I have a baseball bat!”

“That is not—” Derek glared. “That’s not good enough. You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re a giant ass!”

Derek growled again, uncrossing his arms. And if Stiles was being honest, he wasn’t sure how one thing turned to another. But one moment, he was pretty sure he could punch the man out, stepping forward and lifting his chin, and then Derek was yanking him even closer, kissing him hard before Stiles could even react.

Derek was kissing him. Derek Hale was kissing him.

Stiles was pretty sure his brain short-circuited for a second, but he probably wouldn’t have pulled away even if it hadn’t. And he’d totally blame that for the moment it took him to respond, because Stiles had been so sure one of them was going to murder the other. Not… this.

Though, he would happily let this be how he died.

Yeah, this could be how he died.

Derek’s nipped sharply at his lower lip and Stiles groaned, his brain coming back online slowly. If he would have known this would happen when they really argued, he would have started picking fights with the werewolf a lot sooner. Though, maybe it was all built up over time. The man kissed him like they were still arguing, the one way Stiles couldn’t mouth off to win the fight.

He could be okay with that, though.

Stiles was still dazed with Derek eventually pulled back a few inches, the man’s breaths warm against his skin. He wasn’t the only one panting, Stiles realized, his own heart thudding like a drum against his chest.

For a moment, they both just stood there. And for the first time that night, Stiles’s mind was completely empty. And it was nice, in a strange way. Like he’d been drugged.

Then Stiles blinked a few times and stared. Except Derek wasn’t even looking back at him.

The man avoided his gaze like Stiles wasn’t there, posture rigid with his arms folded over his chest again. Like that was the only defense he had against Stiles and the few inches between them. Stiles’s brain didn’t even have a chance to catch up before Derek’s voice broke the silence— low and shaky.

“You should go.”

And just like that, the haze was gone. Stiles stiffened, staring incredulously at the man, but Derek definitely wasn't meeting his gaze. “I should… what?”

“You should go, Stiles.”

Stiles stared. Slowly, a lump formed in his throat.

Because this was what happened, right? Something started, something ended. Stiles stood rooted to the spot for another long moment, feeling like he’d just taken a blow, until Derek fixed him with one of those red-eyed looks. And Stiles didn’t even know how to categorize it. The man’s face was carefully blank. He didn’t look mad, repulsed, or even regretful. He just looked—

Stiles blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. Nodding silently, he turned away, starting toward the loft door. And despite it all, some part of him thought Derek might call his name before he reached it. Or at least say something. Anything.

But the man didn’t. And Stiles didn’t glance back.

Going after the omega earlier hadn’t been the stupid move, he realized. No, it hadn’t even been close.

But this?

This was the dumbest thing he’d ever done.

-

Fuck Derek Hale.

That’s what Stiles would like to say. Fuck Derek Hale and the radio silence that stretched on for two months after that one night. 

Stiles used to secretly look forward to the few nights a week when his window would be shoved up and Derek would pull himself through, always with some excuse about the monster of the week or research. But the only time Stiles had seen the man since had been during pack meetings and he could’ve sworn that Derek was keeping as much distance between them as possible, never saying a direct word to Stiles unless he had to.

It made him feel… dirty, almost. Wrong. If he could go back and keep that night from happening, Stiles would, because that’s where it all went wrong. That’s where it all went wrong, right? It’s not like it had been a long time coming or anything.

He hadn’t— Stiles didn’t— dammit.

Fuck Derek Hale.

The way Stiles saw it, if Derek was going to go around pretending he didn’t exist, then he was going to do the exact same. That started with completely ignoring the werewolf at each pack meeting and then Stiles started skipping them in general, getting the information through Scott. The boy seemed beyond confused but Stiles refused to give his reasoning for pretending Derek didn’t exist.

The Alpha was an asshole, was all he’d say. And then Lydia would give him one of those knowing looks.

Stiles really hated the pack sometimes.

He did his best not to think about it had felt when Derek had kissed him, or the way the man had tugged at his hair, bit down on his bottom lip, and how that feeling was literally imprinted into his brain. He didn’t look at his window and wonder what the hell was so wrong with kissing him— what was so wrong with wanting him?

So Stiles stopped going to pack meetings. And when the betas started following him around school asking questions, he pretended he had no idea what they were talking about.

One month passed without Stiles seeing Derek. And he was fine.

Then the next monster of the week came to town and there was a knock at his window. 

When Stiles glanced up from his laptop to see Derek crouching on the roof, he stared for a long moment before completely ignoring the man. It wasn’t like Derek to knock; he used to just let himself in, sometimes already waiting in Stiles’s room when he came back from lacrosse practice. And yeah, Stiles had always complained. It was creepy after all. 

But it was also Derek.

A few seconds passed before his window was pushed up and Derek pulled himself into the bedroom. Stiles kept his gaze firmly on his computer screen.

Derek had to be insane if he thought he was getting any research help.

“Stiles—”

“No.”

Derek went silent for a moment. On Stiles’s computer, his movie continued to play, and he continued to be watching it. 

Then, “Stiles, the pack needs your help.”

“The pack?”

One more moment of silence, followed by; “I need your help.”

Stiles finally hit pause, glancing up at the Alpha coldly. He did his best to ignore the way his heart twisted at the sight of Derek, because Stiles didn’t care. He could’ve gone another long month— he could have gone two. And why the hell was Derek here, anyway? Stiles wasn’t the only one who knew how to use a computer. “Go ask Lydia.”

Derek’s expression did something strange. “Lydia?”

“She’s a genius, you know.”

“I don’t— the pack doesn’t—” Derek blinked, then clenched his jaw. For a moment, the man actually looked frustrated. “I need your help, Stiles, not hers.”

“Sorry,” Stiles said, gesturing to his computer. “I’m busy.”

He told himself he didn’t take a little bit of pleasure in the way that Derek’s face tightened. But the man was definitely looking frustrated now and honestly? he shouldn’t have expected this visit to go any differently.

“There’s something ripping apart animals in the preserve,” Derek said through gritted teeth. Stiles shrugged.

“A mountain lion?”

“Stiles.”

“Or maybe it’s a bear.”

“Stiles.”

“What, Derek?” Stiles said, shutting his computer harder than he meant to. But the man’s tone was nothing but angry now and he was looking at Stiles like this was his fault. Like it hadn’t been three months of absolutely no contact and Derek hadn’t kissed him before literally throwing him out of the loft like week-old trash.

It made Stiles feel dirty. Yeah, that’s what it was.

And he couldn’t figure out why.

“I don’t want you here,” Stiles said, dropping his gaze. He hated himself a bit for how small his voice sounded. “I don’t want you here, Derek.”

The silence continued to reign. And when Stiles glanced back up, Derek was just looking at him. Silently, blankly. Just like that one night, Stiles couldn’t read his expression.

He swallowed hard at the memory. “I’m done, Derek. This— all of it— we’re done.”

There was a flicker of red in the man’s eyes. And Stiles had thought that telling him off, sending him away, would be a victorious moment. He’d felt so crappy after being the one kicked out first, that he thought it’d make him feel better to be the one sending Derek away this time.

But it really didn't.

“Do the research yourself,” Stiles said, opening his laptop back up and clicking the play button of his movie. “Or ask someone else to do it.”

He didn’t get an answer. But Stiles just locked his gaze on his computer screen and waited a few long minutes before he dared to glance back up again.

And when he did, Derek was gone and his window was still open.

-

Stiles was mad. 

He was mad, he was hurt, and he was so freaking confused, it was starting to affect his sleep. His day-to-day life. Scott kept him updated on the comings and goings of the pack and Stiles got even madder, even though he couldn’t explain it.

Then at some point, after he’d stopped keeping track of how long it had been since that night, he decided he was done. Done being so pissed at fucking Derek Hale.

He showed up to the next pack meeting and Derek looked so surprised, Stiles couldn’t help but feel a little bit smug. He was thrumming out of his skin a little bit, but tried to act like it was the complete opposite, letting the betas practically bowl him over as fingers traced along the back of his neck and Derek continued to stare.

The man only broke his gaze when Lydia snapped fingers in front of his face. And he gave her a red-eyed look at that.

Stiles stuck next to Scott’s side and kept his gaze anywhere but Derek.

He thought everything could have gone worse.

By the time the pizza was gone, the betas were still moaning about how hungry they were, only to get a twenty from Derek and a growled ‘get out’, Stiles felt a little less nervous. Scott had one arm slung over Allison’s shoulder with plans to hang out after, even as he asked Stiles sheepishly if he wanted to tag along.

Stiles had been the third wheel for long enough to know he really didn’t want to be around when they decided to hang out this late on a weekend.

“Come with us, Batman,” Erica said, latching onto his arm. Stiles snorted.

“And wind up paying for dessert when you three eat through twenty dollars of pizza in five minutes? No thank you.”

The girl pouted, giving him a batted-eyes look, but Stiles shrugged her off.

“Nope, I’ve got homework,” he said. “And my own fridge at home where werewolves with infinite appetites won’t eat all my food.”

“You can’t do homework on a Friday,” Isaac said. “That’s so lame.”

“You’re so lame.”

“Great response, Stilinski,” Jackson said, sneering. Stiles just smirked back.

“Whatever, lizard boy.”

Lydia gave him a sharp look, grabbing Jackon’s arm and pulling him toward the door before the beta could say anything back. Stiles rolled his eyes, letting Erica grab his arm again as she started to drag him after them, but then someone cleared their throat behind him.

Erica let go in a second. Stiles froze, slowly turning around to see Derek standing near the table with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“I need Stiles to stay.”

Stiles’s heart skipped a beat and he cursed silently. “Actually, I’ve really got to—”

“It’s fine,” Boyd said, cutting him off. Stiles shot the beta a venomous look, but Boyd pointedly avoided Stiles’s glare. “Stiles can catch up.”

“Or, I could just—”

“Stiles,” Derek said. Stiles looked back at him reluctantly, but the man’s expression really wasn't as threatening as he’d expected. If anything, he looked a little pleading.

Words stuck in Stiles’s throat, so he just nodded, dropping his gaze again. And Erica traced fingers over the back of his neck one more time before the betas followed Jackson and Lydia out the loft door.

Silence fell over the room. Stiles swallowed hard and slowly raised his eyes. “What?”

“I was surprised to see you here tonight.”

“I’m still a part of the pack,” Stiles said. Derek looked surprised.

“Of course.”

“So you shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I just thought that after last time—”

“Oh hell, no,” Stiles said, stalking forward. All the anger he’d felt before came rising back up at Derek’s words and he jabbed a finger into the man’s chest, making Derek stiffen even more. “You don’t get to pull that card. It’s all so shitty, Derek, you know that? These past few months have been so shitty.”

Derek just looked down at Stiles’s finger, as if he was surprised at something. At the reaction, at Stiles’s anger, whatever. 

Stiles was still pissed.

“I know you don’t like to talk,” Stiles said. “I know you’re the big bad Alpha werewolf who doesn’t need anyone but himself and especially doesn’t need the token human. But you kissed me, asshole. You kissed me and kicked me out, and do you even know how fucked up that is?”

Derek’s gaze finally traveled back up to Stiles’s face. His hands were still stuffed into his pockets and Stiles didn’t know if that was better or worse than when the man would keep his arms barricaded over his chest.

“If it was a mistake, fine,” Stiles said. “But you should have told me.”

“Stiles, it wasn’t… I don’t…”

The man sucked at talking. Stiles could accept that. But as Derek trailed off, he thought he might go crazy if he had to leave the loft again without any answers.

Derek was still saying half sentences. Biting back a curse, Stiles surged forward.

The first time Derek had kissed him, Stiles .exe had completely stopped working. He didn’t quite get that reaction with Derek this time, but the man definitely froze for a moment. And Stiles figured this could go two ways. Derek could kick him out of the loft with reason this time, or the absolute whirlwind that Stiles had been going through these past few months would finally stop.

He kissed Derek hard and hungry, and it was so much different than last time.

Then the man was kissing him too. The hands that had been stuck in his pockets moved down Stiles’s sides, down his thighs, and then Derek was picking him up, turning away from the loft door and heading toward the couch.

So it’s option two, Stiles thought hazily. 

Thank fucking god.

Derek lowered him onto the cushions and drew back a few inches, green eyes searching Stiles’s face. And for some reason, Stiles was terrified again for a moment. Because things always started and things always stopped but god, he didn’t want this to stop.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Derek said softly. “You’re not a mistake.”

Stiles held his gaze, almost waiting for the ‘but’. Except it never came, Derek hesitated for another moment, some unreadable expression flickering across his face.

“Is this okay?”

Was this okay? 

Stiles could have laughed for a moment. Some sharp, shocked laugh. Because fuck, if this wasn’t more than okay. Everything leading up to it sucked, yeah, and some part of Stiles wanted to chew Derek out. But another wanted to make sure that the constipated idiot knew that he was okay, this was okay, it was okay.

“Dammit, Sourwolf,” Stiles breathed out. “It’s okay.”

Derek’s eyes flickered red. And Stiles nearly choked on his own breath as the smallest hint of a smile tugged at the Alpha’s lips. One he’d never seen before— soft, almost a little nervous.

Yeah, this was more than okay.

Because red was unsolvable, right? And Stiles was pretty sure he was still figuring Derek Hale out. But this didn’t seem like it would end anytime soon.

And the first time in a long time, Stiles set his mind to something new.

Or, maybe his heart.

-

Tagging @roricomplex​ for the amazing prompt, I hope it turned out okay! I had a ton of fun with this one, thanks for sending a number <3

(if you enjoy my writing, consider sending a coffee? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.25

Word Count: 3,513

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Noah Stilinski, Chris Argent, Peter Hale, Allison Argent, Lydia Martin, Jackson Whittemore, Isaac Lahey, Gerard Argent, Reader

Pairings: Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, small fluff, slight panic attack, cliffhanger

A/N: skip this whole part it’s terrible i just wanted to finish the season up hopefully season three won’t be as bad as this season and season one

Masterlist    Series Masterlist

“I put out an APB on Stiles, we have people looking for him. His car is still in the parking lot, which means...” Sheriff Stilinski paused, looking down as he took a deep breath.

“He’ll be okay, Mr.Stilinski,” you said softly.

“If any of you hear from him, let me know, please,” he begged.

You, Scott, and Isaac nodded your heads as he sighed, leaving.

“We’ll split up, we’ll all look for Stiles, okay?” Scott asked, opening up Stiles’ locker.

Holy shit, Erica and Boyd

“Oh my god, I forgot. Shit! Erica and Boyd are in trouble, I gotta go,” you remembered, your eyes widening.

“What? Where? What happened?” Scott asked, alarmed.

“They're in trouble. In the woods,” you debated whether or not to tell him it was Argent, before deciding not to.

“Okay, so we’ll go look for Stiles. We’ll call you, okay?” Isaac asked.

You nodded, waving to them both as you ran off.

---

You ran in the woods, alert of your surroundings as you looked around, looking for Erica and Boyd, looking for anything.

You walked further into the woods, feeling your hope die as you grew worried, unable to find them.

You sniffled softly as the wind blew, making you shiver.

You heard something snap as you paused, looking down. There was an arrow on the ground.

You picked it up, examining it, finding another one like it.

You looked at the initials engraved, as the tip of the arrow was silver. Silver, engraved. Argent.

You grabbed the arrow, running away, making your way to Argent’s house.

---

You rang your doorbell, banging your fists on the door.

Chris opened the door, giving you a blank look.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Explain this,” you held the arrows pieces, throwing them at his chest.

He looked away from you, exhaling.

“Where are they?” you asked him, clenching your jaw.

He ignored your question, walking into the house as you followed him.

“Stop walking away and tell me, now!” you yelled, yanking his arm.

“They’ll be okay if you give us Derek,” he said calmly.

“Are you joking?! What the hell happened to you? They’re all innocent, Chris. What the hell?!” you yelled.

He ignored your gaze, looking down.

“Look at me right fucking now!” you yelled, your eyes glowing purple.

“It wasn't my choice,” he began as you scoffed.

You paused, thinking back.

Arrow, it was an arrow

Argent never used an arrow, his weapon of choice was always a gun. Who uses arrows?

“Allison,” you gasped.

“I can't do anything about her, ever since Victoria died-” Argent started.

“What? Victoria’s dead? Oh my god,” you knew you would be lying if you pretended to sympathize.

She always made you uncomfortable, the two of you never got along to begin with. You felt bad for Argent.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you said.

“Well, it doesn't matter now. I’m losing Allison to Gerard too now,” he rubbed his head.

“Chris, look what she’s doing. She’s hurt two innocent wolves,” you started.

“She’s a hunter, it happens!” he yelled.

“No, it doesn't happen! Chris, you see it but you don't want to admit it. Gerard is turning her into Kate. He’s using Victoria’s death and twisting her into someone else, someone she’s not. Someone like Kate,” you said.

“Kate and I were the same,” he started.

“No, you’re not. No matter what, you would never burn down the Hale house. You would never hurt a supernatural creature that didn't deserve it. You would never hurt me and Derek. You know Derek didn't kill Kate. His uncle did. Deep down you know something's wrong with all of this,” you said, looking up at him.

“You should go,” he said softly.

“Please, do the right thing,” you begged him.

You heard noises from the basement as you looked at the door.

Argent looked confused slightly, as you walked toward the door.

“(Y/N),” he said, walking behind you.

You ran down the stairs, your eyes going wide in shock as you saw Erica and Boyd tied up by their wrists, hanging from the ceiling, while Stiles laid on the floor.

“He’s human,” you said softly.

“He’s human! Open your eyes, Chris, see what’s happening!” you yelled at him as you ran to Stiles’ unconscious form, holding him up. He had a bruised lip and a cut on his cheek as you checked his pulse, making sure he was at least alive.

Erica let out a muffled cry, looking at you as her body was shaking.

“Intermissum,” you recited a spell, breaking off Erica and Boyd’s chains, as they both collapsed to the ground, pulling off their chains and the cut tape around their mouth.

You looked at Chris, glaring as he looked away, walking back upstairs.

Erica and Boyd immediately ran to you, wrapping their arms around you tightly as you hugged them back.

You kissed each of their foreheads, holding their hands.

“Are you okay?” you asked them.

They both nodded.

“Good, you guys need to leave. Go to the Hale house, okay?” you said, holding Stiles up.

“Thank you,” Erica sniffled. 

You smiled softly, giving them both one last hug before they ran off.

Time to get Stiles home

---

You saw Stiles shuffle from the corner of your eyes, as he groaned, sitting up.

“Stiles, you okay?” you asked, pulling into the driveway.

“My head hurts,” he said softly.

“Here, I’ll help you in,” you walked to the other side of the car, opening the door for Stiles.

“I’m fine, I don’t need help. I just need to talk to my dad,” he hopped out of the car, standing in front of you.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said.

“Of course. I’m gonna tell Scott that you’re okay,” you gave him a small smile as you sat back into your car, driving off.

---

“Yeah, Stiles is okay. He’s at home now,” you replied to Scott, as you drove in your car.

“Me and Isaac are going to the hospital. My mom said that there's something wrong with Jackson’s body,” Scott explained.

“What happened?” you asked.

“Uhm, can you meet us at the hospital?” Scott asked.

“Yeah, sure,” you took a quick U-Turn, driving to the hospital.

---

“Scott?” you ran into the hospital, seeing him.

“Yeah, my mom and Isaac are with Jackson,” Scott explained.

“Let's go,” you started walking forward as Scott linked his arm with yours, pulling you aside as you raised an eyebrow.

“What?” you asked.

“I have a plan. You can’t tell anyone, okay?” Scott started.

“What? What is it?” you asked.

“Okay, look. I smelt it on Gerard the first time I met him. He’s dying, (Y/N). That’s why he's doing this. He wants Derek so that Derek can turn him, not to avenge Kate. He wants to be a werewolf to save his life,” Scott explained while you stared at him in shock.

“How do you know? Gerard hates werewolves,” you said.

“I know, but I’ve been working with him… secretly. Sorry,” he said softly.

“Oh, it’s not a secret, kid. Derek knows. He’s the one who told me,” you shrugged.

“Oh… okay well I still need your help. You have to get Derek to bite Gerard,” Scott begged.

You gave him a blank expression.

“Did you take a lacrosse ball to your head?” you raised an eyebrow.

“I switched his pills. He’s filled with Mountain Ash,” Scott said.

“Scott, that’s genius. How the hell did you come up with that?” you laughed softly.

“I’m not an idiot, you know,” he replied.

“I never said you were! Okay, what do we have to do now?” you asked.

“Just don’t tell anyone. First, we need to get Jackson’s body out of here,” you walked to the morgue with Scott.

---

“Can you do a spell to slow him down from doing whatever he’s… doing?” Isaac asked as he and Scott carried Jackson’s body.

“I can try. There’s no guarantee. He might be immune like Matt was,” you explained.

“How was he immune?” Scott asked.

“I have no idea. Something called Hawthorn. I didn't know about it till that hunter used it at the rave,” you explained.

“Oh… well can you try?” Scott asked.

“Minuere,” you recited a spell softly, your eyes turning purple as you gasped slightly, feeling a shock go throughout your body.

“Crap,” you jumped back.

“What? What is it?” Isaac asked.

“Nothing, it should've worked. I don't know how long it’s gonna hold or what’s gonna happen next,” you replied, taking a deep breath as your body ached in pain. You ignored it.

“Let’s just get him out of here,” as the three of you walked to the parking lot, you saw bright headlights blind the three of you as you rolled your eyes, seeing a black van. Which always belonged to hunters.

Instead of seeing a hunter, you saw as Chris walked out of the car, looking at the three of you.

“Chris,” you stared at him.

“You were right. I’m losing her. And so are you,” he looked at Scott.

“Will you trust us to fix this?” Scott asked.

Chris nodded softly.

“So you’ll let us go?” Scott asked.

“No… my car’s faster,” you smiled softly, as Scott and Isaac three Jackson’s body into the backseat of Chris’ car, the four of you driving off.

---

“Where’s Peter?” you immediately asked Derek, as he stood in front of you, Isaac, Scott, and Chris.

“What is he doing here?” Derek glared at Chris, ignoring your question.

“He's helping us,” you said.

“I’m here for Jackson. Not you,” Chris said.

“Somehow I don’t find that very comforting,” Derek replied.

“Get him inside,” Derek motioned to the abandoned warehouse next to all of you.

---

“Where’s Peter?” you asked Derek again.

He looked at you, while you grew annoyed, staring back at him, still not replying.

He stood on top of Jackson's body, unzipping the bag.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Scott gasped, looking cautiously at Derek.

“We were gonna save him,” Scott said.

“It’s too late for that!” Derek yelled.

“No! Stop, no we’re gonna save him. What the hell?” you yelled at Derek, your face dropping.

“What about...” Scott started.

“Think about it! Gerard controls him now! He’s turned Jackson into his own personal guard dog! Jackson’s just gonna get more powerful. Gerard’s planned this since the beginning,” Derek yelled, looking at you.

“No, Gerard wouldn't do that. If Jackson’s going rabid, then Gerard would put him down, not keep him,” Chris started.

“You’re right. Nothing that dangerous should be left alive,” you jumped as you saw Gerard walking to all of you.

You tensed up as you saw Derek’s claws in the air, as he tried to kill Jackson. Jackson opened his eyes, sticking his claws into Derek's chest as you gasped.

“No,” you gasped, running to Derek before Isaac grabbed your arm, holding you back.

You watched as Jackson threw Derek aside, jumping up.

You ducked quickly, hearing a slight whistling noise as an arrow flew into Isaac’s chest.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed.

You saw as Allison stood behind Gerard. You clenched your jaw, helping Isaac up as he leaned on you, quickly taking him to safety.

Someone was definitely gonna die. 

---

“Premere,” your eyes glew purple as Jackson hissed, in kanima form as he kneeled in front of you. You felt the blood drip from your bruised lip.

You felt yourself go slightly dizzy as you used your powers to hold Jackson.

You couldn't kill him, but that didn't mean you couldn't hurt him a little.

Shit! you tried to dodge the arrow Allison was shooting at you, but failed, crying out as it went into your thigh.

You continued to stand, focusing to keep your powers on Jackson.

You exhaled shakily, trying to keep your balance.

Allison shot another arrow, as you ducked down once again, missing it.

Your bit your lip as you took a deep breath.

This wasn't going to hold for long.

You stumbled backward before falling on your back as you groaned, your spell breaking as Jackson took off across the room, running to Derek.

Don’t do it, don't look down you ignored your thoughts as you looked down at the arrow sticking out of your thigh.

“Fuck,” you groaned.

Allison walked to you, holding two knives in her hand.

“Are you gonna kill me? Allison, what are you doing?” you asked softly.

She ignored you as she stood over you.

“I know that you’re in pain, I know your mom died, but that doesn't mean you have to kill your friends. That doesn't mean you have to be on Gerard’s side. He's trying to make you a bad person, you’re not a bad person,” you begged Allison, looking up at her.

“You don’t know anything. It’s all Derek’s fault that she’s dead. He bit her,” Allison spat.

What? 

“So does that mean you’re gonna kill Scott? You love him,” you said.

“Biggest mistake of my life. You don’t understand,” she said.

“All I know is that Gerard is crazy, there’s something wrong with him. He’s twisting your mind,” you said.

“You’re lying. My mom left me a letter-” she started.

“Was it your mom? Or did Gerard make you think that?” you asked.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Gerard twists people’s thoughts all the time. How do you know he’s not lying about your mom?” Allison froze, as you looked into her eyes.

Her eyes went wide as Jackson’s claws wrapped around her neck, pulling her up as she struggled for air.

“(Y/N),” Derek ran to you, falling on his knees.

“I’m fine,” you winced, ignoring the arrow as you gripped onto Derek’s hands, pushing yourself up.

“What are you doing?!” Allison exclaimed, looking worriedly at Gerard.

“He's doing what he came here to do,” Scott said.

“Then you know,” Gerard said.

“What? What’s he talking about?” Allison asked shakily.

“He’s dying,” you answered.

“I am, I have been for a while now. Unfortunately, science doesn't have a cure for cancer yet. But the supernatural does,” Gerard looked at Derek.

You glanced at Scott, who nodded at you. Now or never.

“Derek, do you trust me?” you whispered.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Bite him,” you said.

“Are you insane?!” he whisper yelled.

“Do it, please,” you begged.

“No,” he said.

You looked at Allison, as she struggled to breathe, Jackson’s claws wrapped firmly around her neck.

“Impetu,” your eyes glew purple as you used your power on Derek, forcing him as Gerard smirked, pulling up his sleeve.

Derek growled, his eyes glowing red as he gave you a look.

His fangs stuck out of his mouth, as you used your magic to make him bite Gerard.

Derek fell to the ground as Gerard yelled out in pain, before laughing.

“Are you fucking crazy?! What the fuck?!” Derek yelled at you.

You reached for him, pulling him up before wincing slightly, your leg aching.

Gerard froze as he began coughing, black blood began spilling out of the bite. His body was rejecting it.

He shakily pulled out his container of pills, crushing them as he saw them filled with Mountain Ash.

“Mountain Ash,” he yelled, looking at Scott.

It worked

You laughed softly, around as everyone looked at you and Scott, confused.

“Scott had a plan,” you explained.

You saw the blood dripping out of Gerard as he fell to the ground.

Jackson released his grip on Allison as you quickly elbowed him before pulling Allison to you.

You kept your arms around her tightly, as she sniffled, burying her face in your neck.

Before Jackson could fight back, you heard a car screech as you saw Stiles’ car, driving quickly and running straight into Jackson.

“Yeah!” Stiles cheered before Jackson jumped on top of his car as he screamed, Lydia, sitting in the passenger's seat.

Stiles and Lydia quickly ran out of the car, as Lydia stood in front of Jackson, holding a key out.

Tears streamed down her face as she looked at Jackson.

Jackson stared at Lydia, before reverting back to himself, backing away from her. Derek and Peter ran to Jackson, sticking their claws into his chest as Lydia cried out. Lydia held Jackson as she cried shakily.

“Derek…” your leg was aching, blood dripping from your wound as you bit your lip tightly, holding back your pain.

They weren't supposed to kill him 

“Do you still…” Jackson started.

“I do,” Lydia nodded, hugging him tightly as you saw Stiles’ face drop.

You felt your heart ache slightly for Stiles before Allison gasped.

“Shit! Y-Your leg, I’m so sorry!” she gasped.

“I’m fine,” you shook your head.

“There’s literally an arrow sticking out of your leg,” she scoffed.

It hurt like hell but you knew it would hurt more if you took the arrow out.

“What the...” you heard Stiles gasp as you turned back to Jackson and Lydia, your eyes going wide.

Jackson was alive, his eyes glew blue. He was a werewolf.

---

“How’s your leg?” Derek asked as you sat up in your bed, standing next to you.

“It’s fine,” you replied.

“So, you had a plan,” Derek smirked, crossing his arms.

“Yeah… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you...” you started.

He put his hands around your face, stroking your cheeks softly.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said.

“You should be,” you sighed.

“What's wrong, really?” Derek asked softly, sitting in front of you as he held your hand.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you said.

“Fine, but if something is wrong, you can tell me anything. You know that,” he said softly, kissing your hand.

“I know,” you replied softly.

“Can I ask you… about Victoria,” you started.

“I should've told you. She tried to kill Scott and me, I did it to save his life,” Derek said.

You nodded softly, before resting your head on his shoulder.

“Knock knock,” you heard an annoying voice walk into your apartment.

“Derek, I love you but I will kill him if he doesn't leave right now,” you glared at Peter.

“Really? No love? Even after everything?” Peter fake pouted.

“You mean after you hid? While we were all fighting for our lives? And then you attempted to kill Jackson? Don’t act like you're all high and mighty,” you rolled your eyes.

“Feisty,” Peter smirked.

“Get out,” Derek pointed to the door.

“Just thought you’d wanna know, your little wolves ran away,” Peter said.

“They left two days ago,” Derek said.

You tensed up, looking at him.

“You mean they’re not at your house?” you asked shakily.

“You saw them leave,” Derek turned to you.

“No, they… they should be there,” you stood up shakily.

“You’re injured,” Derek tensed up, holding your hand as you stood up.

“It’s fine. They're supposed to be there,” you said.

“Okay, fine, we’ll go there, just hold on,” Derek helped you to the door, closing it behind you.

---

Your eyes watered as you looked at the empty house.

“I… they’re supposed to be here,” your voice cracked.

“They left,” Derek said softly.

“No, I was at Argent’s house. They were there. I-I told them to come here. Where are they?” you raised your voice slightly.

“Maybe they just left, just breathe,” Derek put his hands on your shoulder as you noticed something on the front door.

You limped to the door, looking at it cautiously.

It wasn't a spiral, although it was similar.

“Why do you think Derek was in such a rush to build his pack? The alpha pack is coming for him,” Peter said.

“What if they took Erica and Boyd?” you asked shakily.

“It's not… no,” Derek started.

“It's my fault they’re gone. Oh my god,” you said shakily, tears streaming down your face.

“It’s not your fault. (Y/N), we’ll find them,” Derek said softly, stroking your face.

“They…” you froze, crying softly.

You gasped for air, feeling your chest tighten as you clenched your jaw, crying out shakily.

“(Y/N)?” Derek’s eyes went wide as he held onto you tightly.

You held his hand, tears in your eyes as you tried to breathe, your vision blurring.

“Can’t…” you tried to breathe, your face red as you cried.

“What is it?” Derek asked.

You cried loudly, while Derek shushed you, pulling you into his arms tightly.

“She’s having a panic attack,” you heard Peter’s voice from behind the two of you as you tried to hold back your cries, failing.

“Leave, now,” you heard Derek growl at Peter before he walked out of the house.

“Hey, shh, (Y/N), look at me. Breathe,” Derek put his hands on either side of your face as you took deep breaths, feeling your chest aching.

“They’re gone,” you cried out.

“No, it’s okay, (Y/N/N). They’re okay. We’ll find them,” Derek wrapped his arms around you, while you cried in pain, falling to the floor.

“We’ll find them, (Y/N). I promise you,” he pressed his lips to your forehead, caressing your back.

“We’ll find them, I promise.”

[sugarandspace]

Some of us are human (Sterek)

(posted on AO3 under the pseud aconitum)

Summary: While researching the newest threat with Stiles, Derek comes across a box under Stiles' bed. The box has the words "open when I'm dead" written on it and for a moment Derek forgets how to breathe.

Word count: 2,446

Warnings:  for a moment Derek thinks Stiles might be suicidal (he's not), there's also talk about death (but no one dies) and a mention of the nogitsune and the darkness inside Stiles

A/N: check out this beautiful gifset made by my talented friend @sparkandwolf who also helped me with the fic!! 💙

Read on AO3

Stiles’ desk lamp is a little too bright for Derek’s liking and he’s sure it’s going to give him a headache soon. Maybe Stiles would be okay with switching places. Derek looks at the bed where Stiles has been sitting with his laptop. The bed is full of printed out articles and notes Stiles has been taking and Derek doesn’t dare touch them in fear that he’s going to mess up the other man’s organized chaos. He’s going to have to ask him once he comes back from the bathroom.

Stiles is back in Beacon Hills for the winter break and they are at Stiles’ researching the newest creature that has arrived in the town. The amount of books and notebooks and other sources Stiles has on his bookshelf is honestly impressive, and they hope they can find something that could tell them what they are up against.

One of the scrolls - yes scrolls, Derek has no idea where Stiles has found scrolls - falls from the desk when Derek turns to face it again. It rolls under Stiles’ bed and Derek gets up from the desk chair to kneel on the floor so he can see under the bed and can see where it rolled. It’s not far and he can easily reach it.

Just as he’s about to get back up, he notices an old shoe box under Stiles’ bed. It’s not what catches his attention, there are plenty of things under the younger man’s bed, but what makes him stop and stare at the box are the words written on the side of it, bold black letters in Stiles’ handwriting:

OPEN WHEN I’M DEAD

Derek stares at the box for a moment, feeling like his whole world has come to a halt. When he’s able to move he pulls the box from under the bed and sits more comfortably on the floor, bringing the box to his lap. He doesn’t even stop to think if it’s okay before he opens the lid and looks into the box.

Privacy be damned, if Stiles is planning on dying he needs to know everything.

Derek knows that some darkness still lingers inside of Stiles from when he, Scott, and Allison died for a moment a few years ago when they were trying to save their parents. The same darkness that made him vulnerable to the nogitsune. A darkness that will never completely go away.

But Derek didn’t know that it was affecting him this deeply. Was Stiles suicidal? The thought makes his heart race in panic.

What he finds from the box makes his eyebrows furrow. The box has three light blue envelopes in it, each of them addressed to someone. The first one is for the Sheriff,  the second one for Scott, and the third one is for... Derek?

It’s in that moment that Stiles walks back to the room. Derek had been so distracted by the box he hadn’t even heard him walk up the stairs. Derek looks up from the envelope he’s holding - the one with his name written on in Stiles’ handwriting - and can easily see the moment Stiles realises what he’s holding.

Stiles’ hand goes to the back of his neck in a nervous manner and he tries to laugh, but it comes out weak.

“So you found those,” he says. “Neat.”

The situation is very far from neat and Derek doesn’t know what to say. He’s not good with serious conversations and to be honest the flippant tone Stiles is going for grates Derek’s nerves, because this is a serious topic and Stiles’ isn’t allowed to make fun of it.

“What are these?” his tone comes out accusing now that he’s gotten over the shock of finding the letters.

“Listen,” Stiles starts and lets out a deep sigh as he leans against the doorframe, giving up instead of trying to argue. “I’ve seen things - I’ve done things no 20-year-old should ever have to have done. Is it really so unreasonable for me to be prepared for the unfortunate but very possible situation where some supernatural creature will eventually shoot me or maim me or cast me under a curse that no one will be able to break? I don’t have supernatural healing properties. Let’s be real, I’m lucky to still be alive.”

At some point during his speech Stiles had gotten defensive and even though he’s wrapped his arms around his chest in a protective manner Derek can hear his heart beat faster than normal beneath his ribs. Derek can smell hints of embarrassment in the air, but it’s paired with determination. Stiles really does believe in what he’s saying.

And it breaks Derek’s heart.

He’s gone through his own share (and a little more) of bad things in his life, and he knows very well how dangerous the supernatural world can be. But it still hurts somewhere deep in his chest to hear the words Stiles is saying. In no small part because he knows it’s true. Stiles’ mind and soul might be as tough as that of a strong werewolf, but his human body is fragile.

“And I’m part of the reason you’re a part of this world,” Derek says. He doesn’t mean to say it out loud but he can’t help it when the realisation comes to him.

Stiles walks over to him and sits on the floor as well, taking the letter from Derek’s hands and putting it back to the box, which he pushes back under the bed. Derek wants to say that it’s a bit too late for the whole “out of sight, out of mind” thing and that box is probably going to come to haunt Derek’s dreams in the following nights, but he stays quiet.

“No,” Stiles says. It’s short and sure and he makes sure Derek is looking him in the eyes before he continues. “You stop that right now. I won’t let you blame yourself for this. You know what got me into this world? My curiosity. It was my choice to go looking for a body in the woods in the middle of the night, my choice to keep hanging with Scott when he became a werewolf. It’s been, and always will be, my choice to accompany you all to your battles. My choice. I’m aware of all the risks. I don’t regret learning about the supernatural. Ignorance might be bliss but knowledge keeps me safe. That way I can protect myself and the people I care about.”

Derek doesn't know what to say to that. He’s suddenly hit with how much Stiles has grown in the past few years. He’s gone through a lot and he’s not as carefree as he used to be, but this life hasn’t turned him cold. There’s humor and sarcasm in hard places but there’s also wisdom and strength.

“Do you understand me?” Stiles asks. His voice has gone softer now, the determination has made room for gentleness, for the need to be understood.

“Yeah,” Derek replies. He does.

“Those letters are just in case,” Stiles says and looks towards the bed where the box is once again hidden beneath it. “I don’t want anything to be left unsaid if I’m taken from here too soon.”

That sparks a question in Derek, one he’s not sure if he should voice. He understands the letter for the sheriff and he understands the one for Scott. The sheriff is Stiles’ father and Scott is like a brother to him. But Derek? They’ve gotten far from when Stiles accused him of murder and he mainly communicated with threats and glares. They’ve become good friends. But Derek doesn’t see a letter for Lydia or Liam or Isaac. There’s something Stiles wants to tell him that he feels like he can’t say to his face. Something important. In the end the curiosity wins and he asks, “What do you want to say to me?”

Stiles’ eyes widen.

“I think I’d rather wait until I’m dead,” he says and goes to get up but Derek takes a hold of his wrist.

“I want to know now,” he says gently. He feels nervous and he hopes Stiles doesn’t notice that his hands are sweating a little.

Stiles looks uncomfortable when he sits back down.

“Don’t make me wrestle you to get to that letter,” Derek threatens, only half-serious.

“You wouldn’t,” Stiles says and narrows his eyes at Derek. Still, Derek notices how he angles himself slightly more between Derek and the box.

He wouldn’t. Stiles is allowed to have secrets, no matter how much Derek would want to know.

“Obviously you don’t have to,” Derek says. “But I’d really like to know. It’s clearly something important if you’d want me to know in case you died.”

Just saying that - of talking about the possibility that Stiles might die anytime soon - makes Derek’s stomach twist uncomfortably. He cares about the other man more than he’s cared about anyone in a while, more than is probably acceptable to care about someone who’s only supposed to be your friend, even if said friend is also your packmate.

“It might ruin everything,” Stiles warns, but Derek can see that he’s warming up to telling him.

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I do,” Stiles says and tries to laugh, but it comes out flat.

It might be unfair but Derek uses his senses to get a better read on Stiles. When he breathes in the other man’s scent, among the nervousness he can smell a hint of longing, and a little bit of hope finds its way to Derek’s heart.

Could it be possible that the feelings he has for Stiles were reciprocated? Derek tries not to let the hope grow too much. He’s tried so hard to keep those feelings buried as deep as he could, knowing that Stiles deserves better than him. It’s easier to do that when he imagines that Stiles would never want to be more than friends with him.

“I won’t force you,” Derek tells him honestly. “But I’d like to know.”

Stiles looks at him for a long time, probably weighing his options. It’s clear that he wants to tell Derek, wants to believe that nothing would change, but the fear is persistent.

“Can you honestly say that you’ll be okay with never hearing my answer?” Derek tries, and that seems to do it for Stiles.

“I like you,” he blurts out in a similar way Stiles often blurts things, only this time instead of rushing to talk more Stiles freezes in fear like he’s waiting for something bad to happen.

Derek doesn’t know what to say because Stiles’ words leave room for interpretation. Derek can’t know for sure if Stiles means it the way Derek hopes or if he means it in a way he does when he talks about the fries from the local diner. Though, as Derek thinks about it, Stiles wouldn’t be so scared to admit it if his feelings were platonic.

Stiles has been brave and he’s meeting Derek half-way, it’s only fair Derek takes the remaining step to meet him there.

“I like you too,” he says.

Stiles, it turns out, doesn’t hesitate to ask refining questions.

“You mean like… like-like, don’t you?” He asks, not giving Derek time to reply before he’s rambling on, obviously nervous. “Because otherwise this is embarrassing. Oh god, I should have waited until after I die. Is it too late for that? Because Derek if you’re not going to say anything anytime soon I might really die. Death by embarrassment, a new way to go but I bet no one who knows me would be surprised to hear that Stiles Stilinski was the first one to die of embarrassment. I can already see the headstone. Here lies Stiles Sti-”

Stiles doesn’t get to finish because Derek leans in and kisses him. Derek’s been dreaming about this moment many times, has hoped that he could stop the other man from rambling by kissing him speechless, and now he finally can.

It’s better than he dreamed.

Stiles’ lips are soft and he returns the kiss as soon as his brain catches up with the situation. The kiss is tentative, just a touch of lips, but somehow it feels like something huge.

“Oh wow,” Stiles says when they pull away from each other.

When Derek opens his eyes Stiles is still really close, and he smiles when Stiles’ hand comes up to gingerly touch his jaw. Derek wants to tell him that he’s not going to break, but he doesn’t remember the last time someone has touched him so gently. He leans into the touch and smiles.

“Oh wow,” Stiles repeats. “I think you broke me.”

“I’m sorry?” Derek says, to which Stiles snorts.

“You’re forgiven,” he says and leans in to kiss Derek again. This time the kiss turns deeper, more sure now that they both know to expect it.

The hand Stiles has on his jaw turns surer while the other one comes up to Derek’s shoulder. Derek crosses another thing from his list-of-things-he’s-dreamt-of-doing and buries one of his hands into Stiles’ hair and yes - it’s just as soft as he’s imagined. The other hand rests on Stiles’ thigh for balance.

“ Back to what I said earlier ,” Stiles says when they pull away for air. “ Learning about the supernatural side of the world has brought a lot of danger and bad things in my life. But it has also brought you into my life, and I’m really grateful for that. I wouldn’t change anything. If I were to be given a time machine, I wouldn’t go back. Or maybe I would, just a little, so I could do this sooner and we could spend more time kissing because holy hell if I’d known how you reply I would have spoken so much earlier .”

Derek rolls his eyes and takes Stiles by the chin to drag him to another kiss which effectively shuts him up.

“Is this going to be a new thing?” Stiles asks when he pulls back. “You shutting me up with your kisses?”

Derek doesn’t reply with words, but he does kiss Stiles again and that is a reply in itself.

“Okay no talking,” Stiles says when Derek lets his lips go.

“You are talking,” Derek points out as he gets closer again, unable to get enough of kissing Stiles now that he can finally do it.

“Shutting up now,” Stiles says, the words brushing against Derek’s lips before they are kissing again.

This time Stiles really does stay quiet. They get lost in each other, their crazy world and research forgotten around them.

[thehelleniclunarwitch]

Jackson’s Pack (Jackson Whittemore)

Unfinished original character story. 

More shit posting. 

Tagged: @justgrits

   ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two black SUV’s pulled into the long winding driveway. The large log cabin sat on top of a huge hill. The drive down the winding road felt like it took forever. Stiles put down the map and looked over to Derek. He couldn’t believe that they were here. That they were having to pull their old friend into their mess once again. 

“Are you sure we are at the right spot?” Stiles asked. 

“This was the address that Ethan had given Danny before the twins left.” Derek replied. 

“You don’t think he’ll turn us away do you?” Scott asked. 

“He’s our friend, Scott.” Lydia reminded him. 

“Used to be friends. When was the last time we talked to the kid?” Stiles asked her. 

Lydia sat back with a huff. Allison rubbed her arm. The SUV’s came to a stop. Thunder boomed in the distance. They sat there staring at the cabin unsure of the reaction from their old friend. Derek started to unbuckle to exit the car.  The pack froze as three people came sprinting out of the woods. Rain cascaded down their faces as they were smiling and laughing. When lightning flashed they finally noticed the two vehicles sitting in the driveway. The three young teens came to a halt when they noticed the vehicles. The front door opened and somebody yelled for the kids to go inside. 

The girl was on the shorter side. She had long brown hair that was braided to the side. Black leggings stretched across her short legs. The three teens didn’t hesitate. They ran past the vehicles and up the porch. Derek noticed how each one of them touched the girl softly to him it looked like they were calming her. Stiles appreciated the purple Avengers shirt she was representing. Keeping her eyes on the mysterious vehicles, the girl called for somebody to come outside. 

“That’s our cue.” Derek said. 

Derek stepped out first. Everyone else followed their Alpha’s cue and climbed out as well. The familiar blonde haired, rich boy came to join the brunette on the porch. Jackson stepped instinctively in front of the girl. She let out a small snarl before moving to stand next to him. 

“Hey Jackson.” Lydia greeted the boy. 

“Hey.” Jackson replied simply. 

“Jackson,” The brunette whispered next to him when she noticed his tone of voice. 

Rustling to their right had everyone looking over as two more teens burst from the woods laughing. The tall dark haired boy wiped the rain from his face as the blonde shouldered him. Their voices were excited as they talked about their latest shift. They stopped when they saw their Alpha glaring at the pack before them. 

“Woah, what’s going on?” The black haired kid asked. 

“Brett. Theo. House now.” The brunette growled. 

“But Em,” Theo argued. 

“She gave you an order, Theo.” Jackson snapped, flashing his red eyes. 

“Yes, sir.” Theo sighed. 

The boys rushed past the other pack and up on the porch. Brett pressed a kiss to Em’s cheek and Theo kissed her temple before chasing the other boy inside. 

“You’re an Alpha now?” Danny asked. 

“A lot has happened over the years.” Jackson replied. 

“Yeah the same for us.” Isaac added. 

“What can I do for you?” Jackson asked. 

“We need your help, Jackson.” Lydia spoke up. 

“Things have changed since the last time we’ve seen each other. I’m an Alpha now. I have a pack, a mate, pups, and responsibilities. I don’t help just anyone anymore. My pack comes first.” Jackson explained. 

“From one Alpha to another I understand where you’re coming from. We wouldn’t be here Jackson if we had any other options.” Derek told the younger Alpha. 

Jackson looked back to the girl standing behind him. With hushed tones they whispered back and forth for several seconds. Her eyes lit a bright purple, Jackson snarled at her, his eyes flashing red at her in return, but it was Jackson who broke first. The girl's eyes settled back down to her deep brown ones as Jackson turned back towards Derek and his pack. 

“There’s a large pole barn out back that we use to host other packs. I’ll gather my pack and we’ll meet you out there.” Jackson said. 

“Thank you Jackson.” Derek said. 

Jackson nodded, grabbed the brunette’s hand and led her back inside. Derek turned to look at his pack. 

“I thought that he would have been a little more opened.” Danny stated. 

“It’s been a little over three years since we’ve last seen him.” Lydia pointed out. 

The pack followed the trail around the log cabin and to the large pole barn out back. The pole barn was more like another home. It was fully furnished. The loft of the barn had several rooms sectioned off. Below there was a kitchen, a dining room, what looked like an office, and even an entertainment room. 

Derek and the rest of the pack had just managed to crowd around half of the table when the barn doors opened. Jackson came in with the brunette to his left, one of the younger teens to his right, and the rest of his pack, including Aiden and Ethan behind him. They came to stand at the other end of the table. Jackson was the one who sat. Everyone else stood rigidly behind him. They were all on edge. 

“I’ll introduce you to my pack. This is Emily, my mate, and a jinx. Liam, my beta, and second in command. Jenn, Brett, Mason, and Theo, my other betas. You know Aiden and Ethan and this is Malia a werecoyote.” Jackson introduced. 

“You know most of my pack, but there are some fresh faces that you don’t know. My betas Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Scott, and Cora. Jordan our phoenix, Lydia the banshee, Danny, Sheriff, Stiles and Melissa our humans, Chris and Allison our hunters, Peter the omega and Kira our kitsune.” Derek introduced. 

“Hunters in a pack?” Jenn asked. 

“They won’t hurt you.” Derek said.

“I know them. You all will be safe.” Jackson told his younger betas. 

“And they have humans.” Mason whispered. 

“Most packs have humans, Mason. Humans are actually play a vital position to the interior of pack dynamics.” Jackson explained. 

“Why don’t we have any humans?” Malia asked. 

“You know it’s because we’re a new pack. Mom explained that to you.” Liam reminded her. 

“Oh yeah.” Malia replied sheepishly. 

“Hush now. We have more important things to discuss right now.” Emily interrupted before the younger teens could keep asking questions. 

The betas nodded and fell quiet once again. 

“What can we do for you and your pack, Derek?” Jackson asked, returning his attention to the other pack. 

“We’ve been chased out of Beacon Hills by Kate Argent.” Derek explained. 

“That bitch is still running around?” Theo hissed. 

Emily reached over placing a calming hand on his shoulder. 

“Relax.” Emily told him. 

“Sorry, Em.” Theo apologized. 

“You know I don’t like that language coming from you guys.” Emily hissed. 

“You guys know her?” Allison asked. 

“When we first became a pack she tried taking us out. Emily ended up in the hospital for almost two weeks. Malia and Mason almost didn’t bounce back from her attack.” Jackson explained. 

“I earned some wicked cool scars though.” Emily stated. 

“Which never should have happened.” Jackson growled. 

“I wasn’t going to let you die, Jackson.” Emily hissed. 

“You need to start listening to my orders.” Jackson snapped. 

“I am your equal Jackson, not some wolf that you can snarl at.” Emily snipped. 

“You could have died!” Jackson roared. 

“You could have died too. Do you really think this pack would have survived without you?” Emily asked him. 

“How the hell was I going to raise these kids without you?” Jackson asked her in return. 

“A pack needs their Alpha. I’m not a wolf, Jackson. Other packs would have torn us apart without you.” Emily argued. 

“These kids need a mother, Emily. There are things in their life that I wouldn’t be able to handle. The pack needs you.” Jackson snapped. 

“Mom. Dad. Cool it. Can we save this tiring fight for later?” Liam asked. 

Both of them fell silent. 

“Yeah and shut up because the pack needs the both of you.” Aiden added. 

“Exactly, so save the self-sacrificing bullshit for you foreplay.” Ethan snipped.

Neither Jackson nor Emily said anything else. 

“How did you even become an Alpha, Jackson?” Lydia asked to break the tension. 

“You kill an Alpha, you become an Alpha.” Jackson replied. 

“So you purposefully killed an Alpha?” Danny asked, shocked. 

“There’s more to it than that.” Brett interrupted. 

“Brett, quiet.” Jackson snarled. 

“But they have no right to sit there and judge you for what you did for Emily. For all of us.” Theo growled. 

“Right now isn’t the time to get into all of that.” Emily’s calming voice eased the tension among their pack. 

“Your mother is right. Drop it for now.” Jackson ordered. 

“Dad, I’m only trying to protect you!” Theo exclaimed. 

“I understand that Theo and I appreciate it, but let Emily and I handle this.” Jackson said. 

“Fine.” Theo sighed. 

“What exactly do you need from us?” Jackson asked looking back to the Hale pack. 

“I’m sorry, but I have to know. How does your pack know Kate?” Chris asked. 

“Just after I moved my pack out here, Kate returned to rendezvous with an old Alpha. She didn’t take the news of his death well and well she took it out on us.” Jackson explained. 

“With a new fresh pack you were able to fend her off?” Allison asked. 

“I am not somebody you should mess with.” Emily simply answered. 

“I’m getting that vibe.” Lydia spoke. 

“She hit us hard. All of us walked away with some kind of injuries. If Emily hadn’t come home when she had me and the wolves would have been dead.” Jackson explained. 

“Malia, is the newest to our pack. She suffered extreme trauma at a young age and was stuck as a coyote when I found her. We were just coming back from practicing social interactions when Kate attacked the pack.” Emily said. 

Thunder cracked shaking the pole barn. 

“Mom,” Malia called out in a nervous voice. 

“It’s okay Malia it’s just a storm.” Theo said, rubbing her back. 

Just then the power went out sending the whole barn into darkness. Jackson swore. Malia let out a small whimper. Theo moved to wrap an arm around her. 

“Hang on. Everyone just sit still.” Emily said. 

The Hale pack watched with wide eyes as Emily’s hand lit ablaze in a white orb. The orbs shot from her hands surrounding the table. The orbs grew brighter and brighter until the whole dining room was cascaded in light. 

“This should work until we can get the generator up and running.” Emily said. 

“Mom is the coolest.” Jenn whispered. 

Liam and Mason smiled at Jenn. 

“Ethan and I will work on the generator.” Aiden said. 

“Don’t stay out there too long.” Jackson told them. 

“We’ll be back in a few.” Ethan said following his twin out of the barn. 

“How exactly did Kate chase you out of your own town?” Brett asked. 

[ellewritesathing]

So Close - S.S. XV

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Prologue - S2E1 Part 1 - S2E2 + S2E3 Part 2 - S2E4 + S2E5 + S2E6 Part 3 -  S2E7 +S2E8 Part 4 - S2E9 + S2E10 Part 5 - S2E11 + S2E12 Part 6 Part 7 - S3AE1 Part 8 - S3AE2 + S3AE3 Part 9 - S3AE4 Part 10 - S3AE5 + S3AE6 Part 11 - S3AE7 + S3AE8 Part 12 - S3AE9 + S3AE10 + S3AE11 Part 13 - S3AE11 + S3AE12 Part 14 Part 15 - S3BE1 + S3BE2

Word-count: 4.5k+

A/N: sir, that is my emotional support cora hale and she will not be leaving for south america any time soon. also here’s the link to my playlist that no one asked for

(double also swearing seems to be becoming a habit in these? there’s one near the beginning of this part) 

Showering used to be the best part about getting ready for school. Once you dragged yourself out of bed, showering was the perfect way to wake up and warm yourself up before confronting whatever was outside the bathroom door. You could put your brain on autopilot and just breathe. Now you hated it. 

Autopilot now meant daydreams of you turning into some monster and killing your friends. In one of them, you pretty sure you ate someone on the lacrosse team. Not exactly something you want to be thinking about at six o’clock in the morning - or ever. Luckily, the universe seemed to sense your stress levels this morning and let you have your shower in peace. 

You stepped out and wrapped a towel around yourself before wiping away the steam that collected on the mirror. You frowned when you saw your reflection. Something wasn’t right. Something hadn’t felt right in the shower, but you figured no daydreams meant nothing weird. 

You leaned over the sink to get a better look. Your skin was fine. Your eyes were the same. You still had all your hair. But then you saw it. Two white protrusions sticking out of your mouth. Gingerly, you lifted your upper lip with your hands and there they were. Fucking fangs. 

You didn’t know what to do. It’s not like you’d been bitten or anything. How could you have gotten them? Why now when it wasn’t even a full moon? Were you cursed? Was it- 

“Hey, are you done yet?” Cora banged on the door as she spoke. You got such a fright that you jumped and dropped your towel. “The guys need to shower and I have to get to school early to study for-” 

“Yeah- yeah, I’ll be right out,” you shouted back, crouching down to pick up your towel. How were you going to explain this to them? 

Only … when you looked back in the mirror they were gone. You had nothing to explain to anyone. Your friends could live out the rest of this year in peace, and all you had to do was not mention the fact that you were seeing things. 

---

“God, is it always this bright out?” you mumbled as you got out of Cora’s car. Isaac had driven with - which meant you’d squished into the backseat - so getting out was more of an ordeal. 

“We live in California,” Isaac said. “It’s usually brighter out.” 

You rolled your eyes and slammed the car door in frustration. The noise was way too loud and you winced, but the others didn’t seem to notice. They were walking ahead. 

“You coming?” Cora asked, turning to look at you. She looked concerned. 

“Yeah, I just need to talk to Stiles about something.” It was a cheap lie, but the only one you could think of when you saw the Jeep pull in. “I’ll catch up with you later.” 

You waited until they were gone and started walking in the other direction. Down the stairs. Past the laughing teenagers. Away from the gushing water fountain. Far from the guys playing soccer that were not only yelling but making your head throb every time they kicked the ball.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Stiles caught your arm and you stopped and stared at him. You just noticed how frantic your breathing was. And that you were on the opposite end of the school. “Are you alright?” 

“I-” You didn’t know how to answer. You nodded and Stiles tilted his head to the left. 

“Y/N, are you alright?” he repeated. The places where he held onto your arms felt like they were burning. “It’s happening to me too.” 

You stared at him, refusing to believe that he was going through the same thing. He was fine. “No, it’s not.” 

“Nightmares?” Stiles asked. “Seeing things? Panic attacks?”

“Stiles, you can’t …” You trailed off when you saw Lydia and Allison walking over to you. In the quietest voice you could manage, you rushed out, “How do you know?” 

“Because it’s happening to all three of you,” Lydia said simply as they joined the group. 

“Where’s Scott?” Allison asked. “We should talk.” 

You guys found Scott but there was no way you’d have enough time to talk things through unless you skipped first period. An idea that Stiles was advocating for, despite your protests that you had a test first period.

“Well, well, well,” Lydia hummed as you walked through the school doors. “Look who’s no longer the crazy one.”

“We’re not crazy,” Allison told her.

Lydia spun around and looked at the three of you. “Hallucinating? Sleep paralysis? Yeah, you guys are fine.”

“You did die and come back to life,” Scott said. “That’s gotta have side effects, right?” 

You were about to answer when the bell rang. You covered your ears. It had been so loud the past few days. They were all staring at you when you pulled your hands away so you started talking before they could. 

“I’ve gotta go. English is on the other side of this building and I don’t want to be late.” 

---

“Maybe you guys just need a little more time to get back to normal,” Scott said hopefully. 

You were standing by his and Stiles’ lockers, and the only reason you were there was because you didn’t want it to look like you were avoiding them. Which you were. But they didn’t need to know that. 

“Yeah, try not to forget that we hit the reset button on a supernatural beacon for supernatural creatures,” Stiles said as he put in his combination for his lock. It was taking him longer than usual. “There’s a pretty good chance of things never going back to normal.” 

Stiles started shaking his lock and staring at the numbers on the dial. You reached over and put your hands around it. “Here. Let me try?” 

He didn’t say anything but he moved out of your way. You could feel him watching you as you put the combination in. You glanced at Scott to see why he was so quiet but he was staring down the hallway at something. Or someone. The new girl.

“There,” you said once the lock clicked into place. You smiled at him but he was still staring at the lock. You reached out and touched his arm. He jumped. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Fine.” You both knew it was a lie. Your phone beeped before you could say anything. 

“Uh, Cora says Lydia and Allison are going into the woods,” you said after reading the text. “She’s following them to make sure nothing happens.” 

“Yeah, that’s great,” Scott said. You didn’t even know he’d zoned back into the conversation. “We’re all keeping an eye on one another, right?” 

“Something like that,” Stiles mumbled as he grabbed his books from his locker. He shut the door and you recoiled slightly. They didn’t seem to notice, and you lied about needing to be somewhere before they could.

---

“The arrow almost went right through Lydia’s skull,” Cora finished. 

The four of you were in your room talking about what had been happening since the night you, Stiles, and Allison sacrificed yourselves for your parents. One of the perks of living together was that it made secret conversions so much easier to have.

“Why was she aiming at Lydia?” you asked, curling your legs up to your chest.

“She said she saw her aunt,” Cora said with a slightly exasperated expression. 

“Whatever’s happening to you guys is getting worse,” Isaac said. He looked over at you and you pretended not to notice. 

“Yeah, I kinda got that.” The words were harsh and you closed your eyes, frustrated. Scott rubbed your back to calm you down. 

“Stiles is getting worse, too,” he said. “So, Y/N … is it getting worse for you?” 

“Yes,” Cora answered for you. 

You glared at her. “You said you wouldn’t tell!” 

“That was before Allison tried to kill Lydia. Which would have worked, by the way, if I wasn’t there to stop it,” she said. She gave you a sympathetic smile. “This is bigger than us now.” 

“So what’s happening?” Scott asked. 

“Well, you guys know about the nightmares,” you said softly. “But they’re getting worse. They’re happening when I’m awake. And everything is … too much. I don’t know how to explain it. Stiles closed his locker earlier and it felt like my head was going to explode it was so loud.” 

“And you complained about the light,” Isaac added. 

“Sensory overload,” Scott said. “I had it when I turned.” 

“But I haven’t been bitten!” 

“But you live with the three of us,” Cora started. “It could be your brain trying to warn you to … to protect yourself. If you’re afraid of being turned.” 

You looked down. You’d never spoken about it with Scott but he knew you wanted to stay human, and you freaked out when Isaac tried to get Derek to turn you. It wasn’t that big of a stretch to believe that you were afraid. 

“I don’t know,” you said eventually. “But I think we should talk to Deaton.”

“Seconded,” Isaac said. 

“Third.”

You looked at Scott and for a second he just looked tired. He must have been exhausted by dealing with this practically every day since his sophomore year. 

“I’ll take you after school,” he said, smiling at you. “You guys should get some sleep. Sounds like we’re gonna have a long day tomorrow.”

---

“Okay, so we just have to figure out what happens to a person who almost dies and wakes up hearing and feeling things that they shouldn’t be able to hear and feel,” you said. “Simple.”

“And is unable to tell what’s real or not,” Stiles added. 

You were sitting in between him and Scott, and he was bouncing his leg so much that he was shaking the bench. You reached out and put your hand on his knee. He stopped almost instantly. 

“And is being haunted by demonic visions of dead relatives,” Allison finished. She seemed just as on edge as you and Stiles.

“They’re all locked up because they’re all insane,” Isaac said, not even looking up from whatever he was writing. Cora hit his arm. 

“Can you at least try to be helpful?” Stiles asked. “Please?”

“For half my childhood I was locked in a freezer,” Isaac started. “So being helpful is kind of a new thing for me.”

“Dude, are you still milking that?” Stiles asked. 

“Yeah, maybe I am still milking that, Stiles.” 

You took your hand off Stiles’ knee and placed it on his chest, and extended your other hand to touch Isaac’s arm. “Okay, we get it. You’re tragically scarred but can we please get back to-” 

You fell quiet when the girl Scott had been staring at yesterday walked up to the table. 

“Hi,” she smiled. She was nervous. “Hi, sorry. I couldn’t help overhearing what you guys were talking about. And I think I actually might know what you’re talking about.” 

You all exchanged nervous glances. 

“There’s a Tibetan word for it,” she went on, “It’s called ‘Bardo.’ It literally means ‘in-between state.’ The state between life and death.”

“And what do they call you?” Lydia asked. Her words were nonthreatening enough but her tone told a different story.

“Kira,” Scott answered. She smiled at him. “She’s in our History class.” 

“So are you talking Bardo in Tibetan Buddhism or Indian?” Lydia asked, still on the offensive. 

“Either, I guess.” Kira sat down next to Stiles and you all shuffled over to make room for her. “But all the stuff you guys were just saying? All that happens in Bardo. There are different progressive states where you can have hallucinations. Some you see, some you just hear. And you can be visited by peaceful and wrathful deities.”

“Wrathful deities?” Cora repeated. “What kinds?”

“Demons,” Kira answered. 

“Oh, demons,” Stiles echoed. He looked over at you and pulled a face. “Yeah, why not?”

“Hold on,” Allison started. “If there are different progressive states, then what’s the last one?”

“Death,” Kira said simply. “You die.” 

You all fell silent. 

“Well, thanks for your help,” you smiled. “That really helps us with our mystery RPG.” 

“Your mystery RPG?” Kira repeated slowly, sounding confused. 

“It’s a new thing,” Stiles said. “Very exclusive.” 

---

“It sounds like your subconscious is trying to communicate with you,” Deaton said after Scott and Stiles told him what happened during Econ. You didn’t realize that things had gotten so bad for him. 

“Well, how do I tell my subconscious to use a language that I actually know?” Stiles asked. 

“Do you remember what the sign language looked like?” Deaton asked. “The placement and the movement of the hands?” 

“You know sign language?” Scott asked. He seemed impressed. 

“I know a little,” Deaton smiled. “Let me give it a shot.” 

“Okay, the first one was like this.” Stiles held out his index finger and used his other hand to circle it. 

“That’s ‘when.’”

“Then there was this-” He put his two hands together and moved his right hand towards him ‘-Twice.” 

“That’s ‘door.’”

“With this in between.” He closed his hand and put his thumb to his chin, pulling down away from himself. 

“That’s it?” Deaton asked. Stiles nodded. “When is a door not a door?” 

“When is a door not a door?” Stiles repeated. 

“When it’s ajar,” Scott said quietly. It gave you goosebumps. It reminded you of the dream you had weeks ago.

“You’re kidding me,” Stiles said. “A riddle? My subconscious wants to tell me a riddle?”

“Not necessarily,” Deaton said. “When the three of you went under the water, when you crossed from the unconsciousness to a kind of ‘superconsciousness’ … You essentially opened a door in your minds.” 

“What do you mean?” you asked. You crossed your arms over yourself. “Our doors are still open?”

“Ajar,” Deaton nodded.

“A door into our minds?” Stiles asked. 

“I did tell you it was risky,” Deaton said.

“What do we do about it?” Scott asked. 

“Well, that’s difficult to answer,” Deaton sighed. 

“Wait a second, I know that look,” Stiles said. “That’s the ‘we know exactly what’s wrong with you, but we have no idea how to fix it’ look.” 

“One thing I do know is that having an opening like that into your mind … it’s not good. You each need to close that door,” Deaton said. “And you need to do it as soon as possible.”

“I, uh-” you scratched your head. “I had a dream. A little while ago. I was sleeping and … and my door was open. I went to close it and-” You looked at Stiles. You couldn’t admit that you dreamt about him. “And Cora told me not to. She started out really nice but she changed. She didn’t want me to close the door.” 

“I had a dream like that too,” Stiles said quietly. “I went through the door.” 

You shook your head. “I slammed it shut.” 

“But you’re still having hallucinations?” Deaton asked. 

You nodded. 

He took another breath. “This can’t be good.” 

---

You and Mel came home with takeout in hand, but something wasn’t right. There was yelling coming from inside the house. You heard Scott telling someone to get out. It couldn’t have been Cora or Isaac; he’d never tell them to leave. 

“I can’t believe that you’d do this to my best friend!” Scott yelled. 

“I’m not doing anything to your friend,” Rafael said, trying to maintain a steady voice. “I’m doing my job.” 

“Your job sucks!”

“Some days, I can’t argue with that.” 

“Can somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?” Melissa asked as she stepped closer.

“He’s trying to get Stiles’ dad fired,” Scott said, not taking his eyes off your dad. 

“No, that’s not true,” Rafael argued. 

“Then what are you doing?” you asked, crossing your arms and glaring at him.

“Conducting a case for impeachment,” Rafael said.

“That sounds a lot like getting him fired,” Melissa said. 

“The lack of resolution and inability to close cases is what’s getting him fired,” Rafael said. “My job is just to collect the information.” 

“Well, your job sucks!” you snapped. Looking over, you saw that Scott’s claws were starting to come out and you bumped your mom’s hand. She needed to distract Rafael so you could help him. 

“Scott, sweetheart,” Melissa said, moving closer to him. She held his hands, evidently taking the job you wanted. “Calm down. Come with me right now.”

She led Scott out of the room and Rafael looked like he was going to follow, so you started walking to the kitchen and stomping as loud as you could so he had no choice but to follow. 

“Y/N, I’m just doing my job! The job that let me visit all those times when you were at Willow Creek,” he said. “The job that you used to think made me a superhero.”

“Well, maybe now I think it makes you a supervillain,” you said simply. You started unpacking all the food.

He sighed and rubbed his face. “You know I wouldn’t do this if I had another option.” 

“Wouldn’t you?” you asked. “You hate Stiles’ dad. I know you do. And you don’t like Stiles either.” 

“I don’t like the relationship he has with you,” Rafael said. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t like him. He’s just a kid.” 

“And what about Stiles’ dad?” 

He got quiet. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you said. You grabbed the box with your food in it and stormed past him to eat in your room. 

---

“I’m sorry, you took her doll?” you asked. That was honestly the most unbelievable part of what Scott and Stiles were telling you. Nine-year-old girl trapped in coyote form due to trauma? Believable. Stiles getting over his fear of creepy dolls? Not so much. 

“And why didn’t you tell either of us about this?” Cora asked. “We could have helped.” 

“We didn’t know,” Scott said in his ‘everyone play nice’ voice. Cora rolled her eyes. 

“Besides, what do you know about any of this, huh?” Stiles asked. 

“Well, considering that I lived by myself in South America for seven years,” Cora started. “I think I’ve seen a few more things than you have.” 

Stiles gave her a look and was about to say something snippy, so you put your hand on his arm and focused on Scott. 

“Okay, well, what’s the plan?” you asked. “We just go into the woods and … ask her really nicely to turn back into a human?” 

“Alphas can force a change if they’re powerful enough.” Cora looked at Scott, sizing him up. “You haven’t done much with your new powers, have you?” 

“We haven’t really had the time,” Scott admitted. “Can you show me how to do it?” 

“I can try,” Cora said. “It’s not really something you teach. It’s just … something you feel.” 

“Something you feel,” Stiles repeated. “Well, that sounds like a great plan, but you’ll understand if we talk to Deaton first, right?” 

“Actually, that would make me feel a lot better,” Cora said, looking away for a moment as she took a breath. 

Stiles looked like he immediately regretted being so snippy before. He mumbled an apology.

“So let’s all meet there after school, okay?” you said. 

You were anxious pretty much the rest of the day, and the light was bothering you more than usual. You knew it was because of this whole Malia thing, but you couldn’t stop the feelings that were coming over you. By the time Deaton came back with xylazine, you’d uncrossed and recrossed your arms several times and knocked over one of the displays in the waiting area. 

“It’s a tranquilizer for horses,” Deaton explained. “For a werecoyote, expect it to work within seconds. I only have three so whoever’s shooting needs to be a damn good shot.”

“Allison’s a perfect shot,” Scott said. 

“She used to be,” Cora pointed out. 

“She can do it,” Scott insisted. 

“If we manage to find the thing,” Isaac said. 

“Okay, what is the point of them?” Stiles asked, pointing at Isaac and Cora. “Aside from the persistent negativity and gross PDA?” 

The two of them smiled at one another and Stiles groaned in response. 

“They’re here because they’re the only supernatural backup we’ve got,” you said. “And because they bring up things that we don’t want to think about.” 

“Yeah, like ‘how do we turn a coyote back into a girl, when she hasn’t been a girl for eight years?’” Isaac said.

“Actually, Scott and I spoke about that one,” Cora said. “He’s gotta trust his instincts. Let the alpha take over.” 

“But this is a werecoyote,” Deaton pointed out. “Who’s to say that it will even work if Scott can find it in himself to do it?” 

“I can do it,” Scott said. He nodded, trying to get himself to believe it. 

“We need a real alpha,” Stiles said. “You know what I mean! An alpha who can do alpha things. You know, an alpha who can get it going. You know, get it …” 

“Up?” Isaac suggested. 

Cora cleared her throat next to you and tried not to laugh. You focused on not throwing up.

“Great,” Scott said. “So I’m an alpha with performance issues.”

“You’ll be fine,” you said and rubbed his back. 

“What about the twins?” he asked. “Cora can’t teach me because she’s never been an alpha but they …” 

“They’re not alphas anymore,” Deaton said. “After what Jennifer did - almost killing them? It broke that part of them.” 

“Besides, no one’s seen them since whatever happened at the ice skating rink,” you said. You didn’t want to work with the twins again. 

“Well actually, that’s, uh, not totally true,” Stiles said. You gave him a look. “Lydia’s been …” 

“Ew. I don’t wanna know.” You pulled a face. You loved her but she had the worst taste in guys. “Okay, well, you guys are doing that on your own. Call me when it’s time to find Malia.”

---

You and Cora got out of the Porsche just as everyone else pulled up to the preserve. None of you spoke to each other but you all exchanged some pretty significant looks. Not only was changing Malia risky, but something was wrong in those the woods. You could feel it.

“Anyone else think we might be doing more harm than good?”  Lydia asked, effectively summing up your thoughts on the matter. 

“We’re trying to keep a father from killing his own daughter,” Scott said. 

“Actually, we’re trying to keep a guy from killing a coyote,” Isaac corrected, “Who is actually his daughter, who we don’t know how to change from a coyote back to his daughter.”

“And again with the not helping,” Stiles said from where he was leaning on the Jeep.

“Okay, let’s just-” you sighed and ran a hand through your hand. “Let’s split up, okay? I’ll take Cora, and Isaac will make sure Allison takes okay. Stiles and Lydia will stay here in case anything happens.” 

“Who do I go with?” Scott asked. 

“Malia,” you said. “That’s a pretty important part of this plan.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Scott said sheepishly. “Right.” 

You rolled your eyes but pulled back when you heard a gunshot. Scott got back on his bike and immediately started charging into the woods, with Isaac right behind him. You and Cora took off after them and Allison wasn’t too far behind. 

Another gunshot. 

You weren’t sure where everyone was, but at least you and Cora were together. Until something happened to Isaac. His scream echoed through the woods and you covered your ears. Cora hesitated, not wanting to leave you alone but clearly worried about Isaac. 

“Go,” you told her. “You’re faster than me. I’ll catch up.”

She nodded and took off. 

You took a shaky breath and kept going until you stepped on something hard and smooth. The rest of the woods was mulchy and uneven. Slowly, you looked down and took out your phone. 

“Hey, Stiles.” Your voice didn’t sound like it usually did. In fairness, you weren’t usually stuck in a bear trap. “I’m a little stuck, can you come help me?” 

You heard Lydia yelling at Stiles not to leave her alone, but soon he was running up to you. 

“Oh, my god. What happened?” he asked. He held onto your shoulders while he checked to make sure you were okay. 

“I’m standing on a trap,” you said. “If I move, it’s going to snap shut. And I don’t know if you heard Isaac’s scream when he stepped in one of these but-” 

“That’s not gonna happen to you. Alright?” Stiles said. “I’m not gonna let that happen to you.”

“I don’t know how to get out of this thing,” you rushed out. “Do you?” 

“No, but I mean…” he took a breath. “It can’t be that hard, right?” 

You choked out a laugh as he knelt down to inspect the trap. Your hands were shaking. 

“So good news is there’s a warning label on the side here,” Stiles said. “Bad news is that I can’t read.” 

“You can’t read,” you repeated. Stiles nodded and you took another breath. “Okay, that’s not- that’s not a problem. Take a deep breath. You can figure this out, Stiles. You’re the smartest person I know. You can do this.” 

“Y/N, I don’t know if I can,” Stiles said softly. “I think we should wait for the others.” 

“Stiles, there isn’t time for that.” Your voice was small and strained. You felt like you were about to cry. “I know you can do this, okay? I believe in you.” 

It took him a few moments but he moved some of the shrubbery and looked at the trap more closely. He found what you guessed was a release valve. He told you to move your leg out as fast as you could when he turned it. 

“Okay, are you ready?” he asked. You nodded. “Here we go.”

He cranked the dial and you leaped to the side, off-balance and clumsy. The trap closed shut at about the same time that you landed on top of Stiles, knocking him down to the ground. You laughed and moved a leaf out of his hair. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. You were so close that you felt him shaking underneath you. 

“Yeah, anytime,” he said breathlessly. His heart was pounding in his chest. Were you making him nervous? “Besides, you know I’m a leg man.” 

You laughed and pushed yourself up into a seated position. You held out a hand for Stiles to get up. “Shut up, Stilinski.” 

“What? I’m just-” 

A low growl rang out through the woods and you shared a look. You laughed again at the ridiculousness of the situation and Stiles laughed with you. 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” he cheered. “He totally got it up!”

“Okay, that’s just gross.” You pulled a face. “He’s still my brother.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. That crossed a line. Definitely crossed a line”

Part 16

[edelwoodsouls]

all roads lead - ch. 5

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: 3,292 | Also on Ao3 | Other Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4,

Chapter 5: SUNSHINE

The smell of cooking meat and spices fills the air soon after John shows them their room. It's relatively large, painted in cool tones of blue. A double bed, a desk and wardrobe. Large windows overlooking the back garden, which backs onto the preserve.

The window is noticeably easily to climb out of, the wrap-around porch and flower lattices a perfect ladder to the ground. Very useful for a werewolf, he thinks.

Malia splays herself out on the bed, testing its comfort. "It's no New York," she says seriously, as she bounces up and down, before burrowing into the covers. "But it'll do."

She's still sulking at the thought of going to school again. Peter had given up trying to make her school when she'd returned from Eichen House, homeschooling her instead, and allowing her to forgo any subject she decided she hated - math and history, mainly.

"You don't have to pass or anything," he'd reminded her. "I've got enough magic to handle cheating a few pop quizes. And maybe we can get in a study group, meet real teenagers. Get someone cute as a personal tutor, I'm sure you'll be a straight A student in months."

"I am a physical learner," she'd nodded sagely; he'd thrown a cushion at her.

Now he curls up into her arms beneath the covers. The duvet is thick but not too heavy, and the furnace they create almost chases away the cold in his fingers.

"Do you think your dad took that all a bit too easily?" Malia says softly, words muffled by his hair.

"Definitely," he admits. He's been steadfastly ignoring this fact until now. "Beacon Hills is a weird town, though. I'm sure he's seen all sorts of fucked up shit."

"He definitely knows about werewolves."

Stiles grimaces. "Yeah, probably. It's a bit hard to miss. Especially with a bitten wolf under the same roof."

"It's probably for the best."

"You think?" He shifts to look up at her dark brown eyes, unusually heavy with storm clouds.

"Now if he finds out, he's less likely to have a heart attack and die on the spot."

Stiles snorts. "I guess. He's already had a big enough shock with me coming back from the dead. The glowing eyes and fangs might be a bit too much to handle."

Under these warm covers, with Malia beside him, Stiles practically feels the shackles melt from his ankles. It truly is safe here, a perfect microcosm of everything he needs. He could never move from this place, with the steady rhythm of Malia's breathing to lull him to sleep, and die happy.

"Stiles," Malia says. There's something in her voice- not sharp, exactly. Not angry, it's too soft for that. Disappointed? He looks up to her again.

Her fingers rest lightly against his arm. Harsh black veins crawl up her skin, reaching high, disappearing beneath her sleeves. A grimace twists her lips.

Stiles goes suddenly cold. He reaches back along the bond, wrenches the pain she's stealing back into himself. He feels it hit him all at once, the breath vanishing from his chest for an instant.

But it is his pain, and it settles quickly back into his bones where it always sits. Where it has lived so long he has all but forgotten it exists there.

"Don't do that," he says sharply.

"I don't like seeing you suffer," Malia's eyes are fierce in that way he usually loves, that says she won't back down. "Especially not alone. Stiles, you're always in pain. You think you hide it well, but I see it. You haven't had a moment of rest since the nogitsune left, and if I can shoulder the burden long enough for you to sleep through a whole night, I'm going to do it."

"It's my burden to bear." My punishment. He may not have the scars to match, but the constant dull ache the nogitsune left behind feels right, feels good. This unnatural body, one that looks like his, but has never actually seen his childhood home, never hugged his mother, should not be comfortable.

"I'm your beta," Malia hisses, suddenly furious. Now she's angry. "You spent all that time bearing burdens Peter never even knew you carried for him, but you won't let me do the same? One rule for you, one for everyone else?"

Yes, he wants to say, because Peter never deserved the tragedy that piled upon his life, but Stiles does. And because he is not Peter. He loved Peter, but the man was never exactly a model alpha. His temper was too short, too violent. Sometimes too controlling. All easily explained away by his trauma, but not excused by it.

Malia deserves a better alpha. Better than Peter, better than Stiles, too- but he's the only one up for the job right now, and he'll do everything he can to live up to the role. He will not let her suffer on his behalf, though he knows she would throw herself on the pyre for him in an instant.

He wants to say all of this, but before he can form the words to make her understand, the front door opens with a loud thud, accompanied by a sudden maelstrom of footsteps and voices.

Stiles flinches, feeling Malia freeze beside him as they strain to listen.

Two new voices. Male. Excited, arguing playfully back and forth. Scott and Isaac.

Both unmistakeably werewolves.

"Showtime," Stiles mutters, as the voices go quiet, most likely sniffing out the two new, definitively human scents twined a floor above them. They listen as John comes out of the kitchen to explain the situation. What could he possibly say to make sense of it?

"We've got this," Malia murmurs, though her fingers are gripping his arm tightly now. "Should we look busy?"

"We already do," Stiles snickers, earning a sharp whack to the back of his head.

Steps thunder up the stairs, rocketing across the landing, almost falling over themselves. They come to a skidding halt just outside the door, as if remembering only at the last second that barging into a room is impolite.

A knock against the door, so tentative, as if scared any harder could break through the wood.

"Come in?" Stiles says, reluctantly extricating himself from the cocoon of Malia and bedding.

Whilst the years have not been kind to Stiles, or his father, Scott McCall wears his age like a mantel. Thick muscles wrap a straight-standing frame, unbent by pressure and trauma. His eyes are bright, his smile easy and so genuinely curious it seems to strike Stiles like lightning.

There are many differences, from the thick black bands tattooed on his arm, the scar on his cheek, to the overwhelming scent of power that curls off him in waves. But his jaw is still as crooked as ever, his expression like a cloudless, sunny sky.

That the world has not managed to break Scott McCall is a miracle Stiles is suddenly, desperately grateful for.

"Stiles!" Scott's voice is so much deeper than that ten year old he knew - of course it is - and filled with so much enthusiasm it almost smothers the confusion, the suspicion-

The hurt. Because his father isn't the only thing Stiles abandoned.

"Hey, Scotty," Stiles tries for a smile, finding it comes far more easily than usual. As if Scott has alleviated his burdens, too, for just a moment.

"Your dad said you just turned up today! Are you okay? What happened to you? Oh my god, it's been so long-" Scott stops suddenly, grins bashfully as he puts a hand over his mouth. "Sorry, that was a lot. I'm sure you'll talk about it when you're ready."

Stiles blinks, so stunned by Scott's unexpected restraint it takes a moment for him to realise the other boy is introducing him to someone. "-don't know if you remember him, he's living with us now that...well, he's living with us."

The boy in question is an incredibly tall bundle of blond hair and too-sad eyes. He hunches, as if to diminish his imposing figure. Stiles remembers, vaguely- Isaac Lahey, quiet and introspective, whose mother had been killed in a hit and run shortly after Claudia Stilinski died.

He remembers sitting with the young boy at the sheriff's station. Not talking, because what could words possibly say? But sitting together, sharing their grief. The memory brings up others Stiles doesn't like to consider, and he looks away quickly, even as he sees from Isaac's expression that they are sharing it.

Malia promptly pokes him in the ribs. "Am I just wallpaper now?"

"You're perfectly capable of introducing yourself, Mal," he snaps back playfully.

"Hm." Malia climbs out of the bed, shoving Stiles unceremoniously onto the floor in the process. "I'm Malia. Not Mal. Nice to meet you."

She sticks her hand out awkwardly, but Scott takes it all in stride, shaking it eagerly. "Nice to meet you, really. How do you know Stiles?"

Stiles is half expecting her to simply come out with it. He's my alpha. He murdered my father. Lying is not Malia's strong suit; every bone in her body rings with blunt honesty. But living with Peter and Stiles must have rubbed off on her at some point, because she simply smiles back and says, "We met in New York."

Which is A, a lie, and B, brings up a whole host of new questions. But still. Progress.

Stiles was a year bitten when he met Malia Tate - not in the far flung starlight of New York, but right here in Beacon Hills.

His life had changed drastically since that first day, when a stranger with sharp eyes had offered him the freedom he could only dream of.

He knows he probably should feel guilty for running, for how quickly he left with Peter - for how easily he’d allowed werewolf to become the excuse he needed to cut ties. But he was a child desperate to flee, haunted by the scent of whiskey and his mother’s perfume. And the newborn wolf inside him was already howling for home in a way that had nothing to do with Beacon Hills, and everything to do with the alpha cleaning his wounds.

So when Peter Hale said New York,  there was no answer except yes.

Of course, he was still a ten year old boy, uncomfortable with the idea of comfort after so long spent in crisis. He got angry, a lot. Frustrated. Threatened to leave. And Peter, twenty-one years old, buried in guilt and responsibility and absolutely not ready for any of it, reacted in kind.

And Stiles did the only thing he knew how to do. He ran away.

Usually he fled into the woods, exploring it just as he had the preserve - he really hadn’t learned his lesson on that one - or lost himself in the sounds and scents of the city. He always came back after a day or so.

This time was different. Your father, Peter had begun, and the wall Stiles had built between himself and Beacon Hills had come crashing down.

Shot in the line of duty. The words ricocheted through his head, endlessly, repetitively, until Stiles’ feet drove him out of the door to think, to breathe, to try to escape them.

He hadn’t left with the intention of coming here, and yet where else would he have gone?

Looking back now, he hears the careful words Peter chose, how he danced around things such as killed and dead. How he let Stiles grieve without ever having to dirty his hands in a lie. A convenient omission that Stiles does not know how to judge. To spare him the pain of having a living but abandoned father? To tie Stiles tighter to him, to New York, so he'd be less likely to leave?

The lie turns over and over in his head in a maddening refrain, all the worse for the fact that this is the one riddle he will never know the answer to.

Stiles had gotten buses most of the way back to Beacon Hills, dropping him at the northern edge of the preserve. He needed to walk the rest of the way, to feel the pain this pilgrimage had cost him on a bone-deep level. He left his phone buried deep in his backpack, ignoring the angry buzzing that started up on day three. He was hungry, and tired, and yet his feet drove him on.

He hiked through the preserve for two days. His old memories of the forest felt like little more than fuzzy, black and white photographs in the face of what his wolf could sense. Even that first day, everything had been so much, too much, ending up blurred just the same.

Now he walked with his head turned to the sky, taking in every leaf and branch in the canopy. Listening to each rustle of twigs, his mind racing as two legs  became four legs became coyote, twenty feet to the left, hiding in the bushes.

Hiding. Because for Stiles there was nothing to fear, now. He was the scariest creature in the forest.

The thing that struck him most was how different these woods were to the ones he traversed in New York. Older, certainly. More alive. There was a pressure in the air, a presence that existed everywhere at once, directionless. Every rustle of leaves, every breath of wind, sounded more like a murmured voice than the creak of trees. Did that voice belong to the trees? To the spirits winding in between their trunks? To the dead?

It took him several minutes, distracted by his awe, to realise that the coyote was following him. At a distance, moving through the underbrush with the fluid movements of something used to being invisible.

But not to Stiles. He could smell its hunger seeping into the air, the ravenous desperation of an animal willing to try anything. He tried to stay calm, keep his pace and breath as relaxed as they had been before. But all he could think of was the last time he had been alone in these woods. The scent of blood was thick in his nose, the echo of pain sharp against his leg.

He could take a coyote, couldn't he? He had never been in a fight, never faced any danger except that first bite. He had become so comfortable in his own rush of new power, he had forgotten the world was still willing to do him harm. The wolf inside him less of a wall than a veil, still easily perforated. Like his skin, fragile, though it healed quickly.

His heart raced despite himself as his thoughts began to spin; he could feel the moment the other animal sensed his temperament.

The moment he became prey, about to bolt.

It sprang from the bushes suddenly, so fast even Stiles was unprepared. He was on the ground in an instant, a tangle of fur and claws. He tried to snarl, to push back against the creature, but desperation made his moves sloppy where it made the coyote powerful. Claws and teeth sank into any flesh available.

The worst thing wasn't the pain, or the certainty that fate had merely waited an extra year to claim him. It was the heat, the breath on his cheek, the coarse fur scratching against him. The feeling of something alien against his skin, violating the carefully constructed barriers around himself in such an open, direct way.

He stopped struggling. He still can't say, even years later, why he found himself staring at the cold daylight through the canopy, watching a pair of blackbirds whirling through the sky, utterly still. The world felt distant and unimportant.

And just as sudden, the weight vanished from him. He heard animal yelps, the gut-wrenching, slick sound of teeth tearing into flesh. A whimper- then silence. The rustling of leaves brushed away by a tail.

Slowly, he inched his body up. Blood, fresh and brighter than he thinks blood should be, soaked his jumper. Every movement felt like a new slash across his skin, and the world wheeling and shifting at an alarming rate.

He threw up water and blood, the only things left in his stomach.

Across the clearing was a coyote- not the one that had attacked him, he knew somehow, though he never saw the first. This one was larger, fur sleek in shades of grey and pale yellow; blood dripping steadily from its maw, though it made no move to clear it. It watched him with an intelligence that startled him.

The other coyote lay in a crumpled heap, leaves half-heartedly kicked over its fur.

Stiles knew all too well what that felt like. He retched, but there was nothing left to expel.

When he looked up again, shivering, the coyote was right beside him. Slowly, as if testing his reactions, it pushed its nose against his hand, leaving a smear of blood against his pale skin. He felt his wolf eyes flickering automatically, ringing with liquid gold. The coyote stared at him with deliberate, widened eyes.

Which glowed an icy, bright blue.

He had never met a full shifter except Peter, whose true form had been brutalised by his madness. This creature looked no different from the coyote under the leaves, save for that supernatural blue.

The one thing Peter had made clear, over and over again, as if afraid Stiles might forget: do not trust other shifters. Do not trust creatures who do not share your pack, share that bond closer than blood he could feel thrumming somewhere deep and hot inside his soul.

Looking into Malia's eyes then, those words had risen up in his mind. They had become meaningless already. He was tired of mistrust, though it had chiselled itself deep in his bones.

And where that singular, bright flame he knew to be Peter's bond had been, he felt a second flicker to life, tying him to the creature now curling close against his wounds, lending its warmth and companionship as he felt himself, every so slowly, begin to heal.

They had been inseparable ever since. Codependent, Peter used to scoff, an accusation that fell half-heartedly short in the face of their closely knit family unit.

Besides, there had been no one else.

No one else, except these ghosts that Stiles had let himself forget beneath a haze of anger. Just because the clouds eclipsed the sun doesn't mean it wasn't there.

"New York?" Scott asks, face so open and curious Stiles feels the words tugging at his tongue in an instant. This is a face he would tell his darkest secrets to, if asked.

A dangerous face. But one Stiles wants to let below his guard nevertheless.

"I ended up there for a while," Stiles shrugs, steadying his heart against prying ears. "Malia's a life saver, pulled me from the fire more than once. Some things just stick you together for life, y'know?"

Scott glances at Isaac, and Stiles is sure he does know. They're both thinking of that rope-tight bond between pack, a fire in itself. Indescribable to those who have never felt what it is to let another soul make a home in your heart.

Maybe this can work. Even with two packs, two alphas under the same roof. Because they all have that fire. And they all share loss - inextricably entwined with the love written in every line of their faces.

And maybe that shared understanding is enough. No more spilt blood.

No more spilt blood, Stiles promises, and allows himself a smile.

He only hopes it lasts a little longer this time.

[stetervault]

hey cywscross! any longfics (like at least 30k+ long) you can recommend? old or new is fine but like something multichaptered (and preferably complete) would be great! thanks!

Wow, 30k, you’re obviously settling in for a fic marathon lol. I can name you some, mostly Steter with a few Stetopher/Steterek:

Under the Songbird’s Wing by mia6363

Captivity easily destroys the will of escape. It can break the fiercest of animal. It can strip the most regal man and woman down to nothing but animal needs.

Captivity can, if met with unwavering determination, shape a person into something unimaginable.

Stiles is sixteen when he’s captured. Stiles’s first thought is, “I won’t die here.”

love me lights out by veterization

Stiles and Peter get snowed in together. (Or: what happens when you accept phone calls from people you haven’t spoken to in over five years.)

come find me by Areiton

“You want me,” he says, stubbornly sure and you consider him.

“Yes,” you agree, because you are not a good man, and you are not accustomed to denying yourself what you want. “And it doesn’t matter because I am saying no.”

You touch his hand, and he jerks, wide eyed as you lean into him, and breath into his ear. “If you still feel this way, come find me in ten years.”

Til Death by Bunnywest

“How long do we have to find him someone?” Stiles asks.“Two weeks,” says Derek, eyebrows pulling down even further. The fierceness of his expression tells Stiles just how concerned he is.“He marries, or he goes to the camps. And you know what your father told us,” Scott reminds her.The camps……aren’t camps.Peter either finds a wife, or he dies.

Rabbit verse by Bunnywest (series, complete)

Peter loves to hunt. Stiles is his (too willing )prey.

as you are by veterization

Stiles runs straight into a tree and suddenly, things are… different. Namely, he’s in a world where Peter Hale is his boyfriend.

Uncle Peter Doesn’t Date by Mellow (SweetCandy) (wip series, but each part so far is complete)

“Oh don’t lie, you love it.” Peter purred and winked at his newest arm candy, who spluttered for a few seconds, before blushing like a 16 year old virgin. Considering how young he looked Laura wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually 16.“Shut up Peter!” Bambi squeaked, still flushing and averting Laura’s eyes. “Well, anyways, I’m,”‘Bambi’.“Stiles. Stiles Stilinski, pleasure to meet you- again.” Stiles smiled sheepishly, obviously nervous.Stiles Stilinski. Definitely a stripper then.

-

Or: Laura was prepared for whatever piece of armcandy her uncle had decided to show up with, what she hadn’t been prepared for was Stiles Stilinski…her uncle’s boyfriend.

Rewriting the future by Synesthetic

Two days before their planned bonding, alpha Derek Hale runs away with his secret beta girlfriend, leaving Stiles heartbroken. With the demands of his omega physiology forcing him to bond with someone before his first heat, Derek’s uncle Peter steps in and offers a solution.

To Save Them All by Goldenpetal13

AU, FutureFic/Re do of Season 1, Something happens, something bad, and Stiles finds a way to go back in time to change the past and save them all, to give them a future. He finds the way back and then swaps places with Scott and he gets bitten by Peter instead. Now he has to change the events that where set in motion after that event and maybe, just maybe they’ll all get to live.

Empathy, Empathy, Put Yourself in the Place of Me by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (series, complete)

Peter was suspicious.

Just generally, as a person. He always assumed his fellow man had impure motives until they proved otherwise, and then he still kept an eye out.

But at this particular moment, he was specifically suspicious of Derek’s new girlfriend.

He’s not the only one.

Bone Deep by ShippersList (28k+ but complete)

A body in the woods, a mate, and a long-awaited revenge.

Peter had no idea how his life would change when he followed the strange pull in his chest.

Get Off (Me) by KouriArashi

Stiles hates being left behind with Peter while the pack is fighting monsters, because he never knows exactly what Peter will get up to.

Love What is Behind You by KouriArashi

Basically what it says on the label. Hunger Games type fusion. Stiles doing way better than anyone anticipates. Peter finds him intriguing. Ruthless, devious assholes working together to ruin bad guys, as the Steter ship is meant to be.

Whatever Works by KouriArashi (Steter + Sterek)

The problem with having your soulmate’s first words to you tattooed on your arm is knowing your whole life that you’re fated to be with a jerk. It’s enough to make Stiles want to date other people … which is how he winds up dating his soulmate’s nephew.

Call My Name by KouriArashi

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Sympathy for the Devil by KouriArashi

Stiles gets a job as a hospital orderly and finds himself becoming strangely attached to the catatonic man on the long-term care ward, and finds out that there’s a lot more to Peter Hale than there seems…

Devil of Mercy by KouriArashi

Peter’s heard people talk about what it felt like when they saw their mate for the first time, from those who actually believe in the mystical bullshit. Like a magnet, like gravity. Peter just feels… sharply curious.

Begging Me To Open Up My Mouth by Green

In a world where the supernatural is known, Peter still has to stick out. He can’t just be a werewolf, he has to be a sub, too. He can handle the stupidity from his classmates, he doesn’t even care about that, but Talia not understanding what he needs because werewolf subs are so rare?

Yeah. That he could do without.

***

Stiles is a Spark, freelance Emissary, and a Dom, in that order. He likes it that way. The freedom of it, the ability to travel and learn. He’s not ready to settle down.

But he maybe considers lingering when someone catches his eye.

Of Werewolves and Tentacles by Guede (Steterek)

Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall, childhood best friends who were separated, now reunite to get to know each other again. Since Scott’s a werewolf and Stiles is a new graduate of Miskatonic University (which is proving strangely attractive to Peter-Hale-shaped werewolves), they’ve got quite a bit to catch up on.

Bittersweet Creek by Guede

When Stiles finally steps off the westward trail to California, he’s the last of his pack. He starts building a den, but then he finds a dying man next to a burnt-down house and it turns out he’s not really much of a settler, after all.

Cats and Dogs by Guede

Stiles is a were-cat. He likes to lie around in the sun, insists on poking into everything, viciously defends his territory and is always judging you. His best friend is Scott, a werewolf, he’s dating Peter, another werewolf, and he enjoys terrorizing Peter’s nephew Derek.

Oh, and John and Chris are were-cats too. Basically, everybody’s some kind of were and I make a lot of cheap jokes about cat and dog stereotypes.

The Time Travel Grammar Book by Guede

The story that was supposed to be about time-travel, but is really a stealth AU of the first two seasons where Talia’s a struggling single mom, Peter’s the eponymous teen wolf, and Stiles, Scott and Lydia…are time travelers (so that part’s not totally inaccurate).

Open Wounds by Guede

Talia got out of the fire with Peter, but everyone else died. Years later, they’re still struggling with injuries, but they’ve at least settled in with oddball werewolf Stiles. And then other werewolves start showing up. Familiar ones.

Movement in Alpha Major by Guede

Peter Hale, thirty-four, shady but successful human lawyer, knocks on his nephew Derek’s door one night because he’s just been bitten by a werewolf. Somehow, this ends up being a lot more awkward than one would expect.

The Sphinx of Beacon Hills by Guede (Stetopher)

Stiles is a sphinx, and he’s winging his way to visit his buddy Scott when a storm drops him in Beacon Hills, the craziest, crankiest, coldest place ever. And somehow, he ends up with a bunch of werewolves.

Note: Bestiality warning is because the version of sphinx here is lion-shaped from waist down, and I don’t know how else to tag that.

Werewolf How-To by Guede (Steterek)

Being a sex mage with a magical knotting cock (and a profitable land revitalization business, thank you) doesn’t mean that Stiles needs to hook up with werewolves. It just kind of happens that way.

Intemperance by Guede (Stetopherek)

Stiles is the one who gets pulled back to Beacon Hills by a murder.

Sustainable Management by Guede (Steterek)

An alternate universe where werewolves and other supernatural creatures aren’t just integrated, but are so deeply embedded that they’re considered part of the natural ecosystem.

In other words, Stiles and his father work for a U.S. Forest Service that’s way different from the one here, if only because it involves many more secret-agent hijinks.

Strays by DiscontentedWinter (Stetopher)

In a Beacon Hills that’s been destroyed by a war between humans and werewolves, Stiles Stilinski does what he has to in order to survive.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Infinite Space by DiscontentedWinter

Stiles needs Peter’s expertise to help stop the latest threat to Beacon Hills.And, as the pack falls apart around him, he might even need Peter for more than that.

Save Me by DiscontentedWinter

Peter is the Alpha.He’s nobody’s savior.Not his pack’s. Not his town’s. And not that kid’s.But sometimes salvation goes both ways.

You Had Me at Canapes by LadyArinn

Stiles doesn’t mean to sneak into the Hale wedding, and he certainly doesn’t mean to have cliche coat-room sex with the bride’s uncle, but what had happened, happened, and it wasn’t like he could just leave. At least, not until he got to have some of that cake.

Naughty Hookers (Swathed in Wool) by pprfaith (wip series, but main parts are complete)

Stiles is happy with his store, his hobbies, his friends. Peter’s just trying to figure out how to raise his nieces and nephew without fucking them up too badly.

Paths cross.

Sing to Me, Oh so Sweetly by lavenderlotion

“Can I get a story, Mama?” Stiles asked.

“What type of story do you want to hear, darling?” his mama asked, sitting on the edge of his bed and playing with Stiles’ hair. He liked it when she did that.

“I wanna hear about the magic woman!” Stiles demanded, doing his best to keep still.

“You always wanna hear about the magic woman,” Mama told him. “Well, alright. Do you want me to start from the beginning?”

“Well, duh,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. The beginning was always the best part.

“Once upon a time, there was a young girl with skin as white as the moon and eyes as bright as the sun.”

Breathing You In by lavenderlotion (29k+, 1 chapter, but complete)

“Good morning, kiddo,” his dad said, and the words hurt.

All Stiles wanted to do was step forward and let his dad hug him, allow his father to give him comfort. His father’s hugs had always been all-encompassing, the way he would fold himself around Stiles and hold him as tightly as he could.

Stiles stepped around him, careful not to let foreign skin touch anything that was special to him.

Anything he loved.

Just Don’t Leave Me by lavenderlotion

Stiles had no idea it could happen. Really, he hadn’t. But it did and he had to deal with the fallout, alone. And, and after everything with Scott, and Derek, that was a daunting task. At least, he had his dad, god was he thankful he had his dad, but - but he couldn’t say he didn’t wish he had Peter, too.

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he’ll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn’t know who this kid is, but he’s cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He’s not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn’t really mind.

Worn Out Shoes by moonstalker24

When the dead rise, and the world comes to an end, the McCall Pack must learn to live in this new world, or die in the attempt. This is the story of the end, and of the year that follows.

The Choice by moonstalker24

“You will be changed, Goscislaw Genim Stilinski. From your bones you will be changed.”“How.”“That we cannot tell you… That is the price.”

He’s made the deal, now he only has fifteen minutes to make a choice and either save or condemn them all. Fifteen minutes and then Stiles will have to live with the consequences.

Every step of the way by Pirotess666

Hurt, pain, suffering. TORTURE. Peter felt it all while he was in Eichen House.And after he got out? All those memories of what happened there were threatening to drive him insane.The only thing that helped? Being with Stiles.And Stiles just couldn’t stop himself from helping Peter.

Bite Down by EclipseWing (27k+ but complete)

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse by Nopennamesleft

Its the end of the world and Stiles has run out of luck. He saves a werewolf from certain death. Will they begin to rely on each other to survive or will the wolf just eat Stiles for a midnight snack?

Do You Like to Hurt? (Then Hurt Me) by taylorpotato

Stiles shows up at Peter’s apartment, drunk and horny. Peter almost does the right thing—before it all deteriorates into a voyeuristic power game and Stiles has a mind-shattering orgasm. Things snowball from there. Takes place after Season Three (with consequent canon divergence).

Out Of The East, Never See The Sun Rise by neglectedtuesday (24k+ but complete)

In the beginning, there are three absolutes.

One. Stiles is a god, forged of starlight and collapsing galaxies and he is eternal.

Two. Peter is human, fragile bone and viscous blood and he is temporary.

Three. Stiles and Peter are in love; love that claws its way inside one’s heart like fish hooks; all encompassing love that is beautiful but dangerous.

Stiles is a god. Peter is human. They love each other.

Three absolutes.

The World That Is Not Ours by Ragga (wip series but first three parts are done)

About a boy and his monster, or a monster and his boy.

[snokoms]

under the sea part 9

here we go again…...

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21310579/chapters/52822636

He is running through the woods again. They are slowly starting to become more familiar. Deciding to try the tactic from the last time he sets out for a long journey again. This time deciding to take a different route. When he still has not felt the presence after a few hours he decides to head to the bunny clearing anyway. Maybe It is there? It is not there. Disappointment is taking over his mind. Did he chase them away? Or was It Stiles? Like he secretly hoped it was. If it was, does that mean that Nira was right? Was his packmate really dead? Slowly walking the same pad as the other night, he takes off. The presence still isn’t back by the time he has made the full circle. Howling his loss to the moon he stays there the rest of the night.

   ---

   “Hey Danny, how is Hawaii treating you? You still hitting on that dude from last time?”

 “Hey Jacks, no he turned out to be a dick. Being all nice and shit and then trying to steal my stuff? Like, sure, we had a great night, the dude gave great head, but in the morning, he almost sneaked out with my coffeemaker! Who even goes for a coffeemaker! If you are trying to steal something than you should at least do it right. It’s not like its small or inconspicuous or something.”

 Jackson looked stumped at the screen in front of him before bursting out laughing.

 “It’s not funny! It had to chase him down for three blocks while only wearing boxers. And you know what he did!”

 Danny was starting to turn red in his rant and Jackson was sitting at the edge of his seat in anticipation.

 “He threw it on the ground! Its broken! It made The Best Coffee Ever and now its broken!” With that said Jackson fell down on the flour, unable to keep his laughter in any longer. Only Danny could ever get in this kind of mess.

 “Anyway, I think I’m going to stop dating for a while. Or at least stop with the blonds.”

 “What? You’re going to try brunets now?”

 “Yes.”

 “You never liked brunets”

 “That’s not true. There was Lucas when we were eight.”

 “Exactly. Eight, and if I remember it right there was a bet involved.”

 “Fine” with a huff Danny settles back in his chair. Jackson had a point though, he never fell for brunets. No matter how cute they were.

 “Anyway, have you heard the latest news from BH?”

 “What news? I don’t really talk with anyone back there.”

 “Not even Lydia? You guys were pretty close.”

 “No, I needed to get away from all that. Also, Lydia and I? It wasn’t a really healthy relation.” He is looking out of the window while he saying that. Unable to look at friend, thinking back at their time in high school together and the mess that was his love, or more like, sex life back then.

 “Sorry to hear that man. Anyway, it’s about the Stilinki kid.”

 “What about him?” This is peaking Jackson interest. He knows Stiles had something to do with him not dying back in BH. Convincing Derek not to kill him and figuring out how to save him. Not to mention the damage his precious death trap called a car received for smashing through the wall to deliver Lydia to him. No matter how toxic they had been to each other. They had loved each other.

 “He’s dead.”

 “What.” That does not sound right.

 “Yeah, they found his car about a couple weeks ago. Found the killer in the woods. It’s going to be an empty casket funeral though because they couldn’t find the body.” Silently they watch each other, remembering the teen they left in the town they all grew up in.

 “How did he die? And how are they sure he is dead, if they did not find the body?”

 “According to the police report the trail leads to a lake. They found the killer there, killed two man. Heads bust in and dragged to the bottom of the lake. I’m willing to bet it was some kind of seacreature.”

 “A seacreature that far from the shore?”

 “Yeah, maybe like a sweetwater kind? The lake variant.”

 “God I can’t believe this conversation actually makes sense.” shaking his head chuckling, he looks at his friend on the other side of the world.

 “Yeah well I’m just glad you finally found the balls the tell me about everything after you left for England.”

 “Yeah…” Cringing back at the reminder of all the lies he told he apologises again.

 “Anyway, I was thinking of maybe heading up there? Pay respects.”

 Nodding Jackson looks at his friend. Without words they already knew they would be going together. Jackson owes his life to the dead teen, the least they could do was attend the funeral.

   ----

   When they Hales finally make their way into Beacon Hills it is the morning of the funeral. They find the town filled with all kinds of creatures. But instead of being there to harm the town and its people, they have come to mourn a loud mouthed sarcastic teen. With wonder they look around. Look at what their pack, no, family member has done. Has meant to all these people to come to his funeral.

 Upon arriving to the McCall residency, to inform the pack of their presence and mourn with them for their fallen member they notice something is amiss.

 No one is home.

 Upon breaking into the house, the lack of scent is like a slap in the face. Where Stiles’ scent was once part of the house, there is now no trace to be found of it. Deep integrated scents that had been applied for such a long time usually took months, sometimes years to fully disappear. Why had Stiles not been around more? Where did his scent go? That was not the only scent that seemed to be missing though. Scott hasn’t been in his room for over a week, maybe two or three. Neither had the rest of the ragtack group of misfits. Had Scott been kidnapped or, eaten, as well? Had the others?

 The thought of their Stiles being eaten still makes them slightly nauseous. When they move to leave and ask around town, they stumble upon Melissa at the door. She doesn’t even blink when she sees them. Uncaring of the fact that they broke in.

 “Good, you guys made it in time. He would have liked you to be there.” she looks exhausted and sadness take up a large part of her scent.

 “Melissa, where is Scott? We know he hasn’t been in the house for over a week.” When the woman hesitates before answering, a sense of foreboding creeps up his spine. Something is wrong, and whatever it is. It was not going to be pretty.

 “The pack, they, they left. For a vacation. The year was finally over, and they thought they deserved a break. Stiles wasn’t with them. I, I called. I don’t think he was invited Derek. I’m not even sure anymore if my son cares that his best friend is dead.” With that Melissa breaks down and he wraps her in his arms. The pack was gone? Without, without Stiles? Uncaring? How dare he. He left Stiles in McCalls care. Told him to look after the human before he left. He told him! How could, how-

 Then he thinks back to Gerard and the pool and yeah. He could. It wasn’t the first time the crooked jaw boy has broken his trust. He thought he cared about his best friend. Apparently, he was wrong.

When Melissa has finally calmed down again, they are sitting on the couch. There are steaming mugs of tea on the table. Peter, Cora and Malia are occupying the other seats in the room. After taking a sip of her tea she looks around. Looks at this little family that has already lost so much.

 “Melissa, what happened? How did this happen? Please, we-. No, I need to know.” Looking at the young man next to her and the people surrounding her she steels herself and start talking.

 “The car was found on a Tuesday…..”

   ----

   “So, I just called Lydia.”

 “How did it go?”

 “Oh you know, she is still mad about me leaving to London. Trying to get me jealous by talking about

her latest conquest.”

 “…..She know you started swinging the other way?”

 “…..No.” Shaking his head about his friends cowardice, Danny asks,

 “What did she say about Stiles? Did she tell you how he really died?”

 “She said, and I quote: ‘What the hell are you talking about. Stop wasting my time with that useless spaz’ before going on about some guy named Jordan.” His friend answers in a flat tone.

 “Wait what. That, that doesn’t sound right.”

 “I don’t think she knows Danny. About him. Being, you know, dead.” It is silent for a minute before he adds,

 “She said he was a killer.”

 “You sure?” Nodding Jackson grabbed his suitcase. While the pair walked towards the exit of the airport they pondered over the words. Danny knew Lydia never liked the other boy. Still, something must have happened to get her this openly hostile.

 “Do you think it’s true?”

 “If he killed someone?” Humming an affirmative he looked at his friend. Jacksons eyes were unfocused while he thought about the question. Thinking back to his time as kanima, some could argue that he was a murderer as well. Even if he had no control over his body at the time. Hell, he was not even aware what was happening to him back then. Stiles had known though. The teen had saved him, even though he used to bully him.

 “If he did, I’m sure he had a good reason for it. He voted for my life when I was still the kanima. Even if killing me would have saved them all a lot of trouble and I bullied him for years.”

 Ignoring the last comment Danny tries to defend the girl. “What if she doesn’t know the full story?” Even in his own ears the excuse sounded half baked.

 “She wouldn’t care.” With that in mind they both get into the taxi heading for Beacon Hills and the funeral. Warily noting the number of cars going the same way.

   ----

   In the meantime, deep under the surface, Stiles is slowly learning Seahissing, or watertalk (he still doesn’t know what to call it). And in so, slowly starts to understand what happened.

  “We- we were driven out of our home by hunters and came upon this place a few weeks into our travels.

 One day father was gone really long, and I thought the hunters had caught him, but I still had hope he would come back to me.” a shaky breath “He did, but he was… different.” The boy whispered with downcast eyes. “He was saying all this stuff. About how he did everything because he loved me. That he was proud of me. I was so confused.” A lone tear escaped Shan’s eye and Stiles wondered how tears still worked underwater. He wondered how long it had been since someone had been kind to this boy.

 “For a few days nothing happened, and I had almost forgotten until one night- until one night he told me to stay inside and not to come out until he said I could.” It was silent for a long while after that, and Stiles got a dark feeling inside, something bad was going to happen. He knew that this must have been shortly before he was kidnapped and the father of this boy, the man who kidnapped him, wasn’t absent because he neglected his child.

 “I was never good at following orders.”

  <em>When Shan came back to their cave the second day after the new moon, he found it empty. Again. Remembering his father’s words from yesterday he looked around the lake.

 He was bored.

 And so, he decided to explore. Maybe his father had found a new and special place and wanted to keep it a suprise! He knew he wasn’t supposed to leave the lake, it never ended well for him when he went against father’s wishes, but he was just. So, so bored.

Shan wasn’t a great listener. Especially when he was curious. Or didn’t agree with his father’s reasoning. Or, you know, saw something shiny.

Yeah…. Anyway. He set out to find his father. Knowing the older mer had taken the lower passages heading south, he quickly swam down.

   When he finally found him hours later it was to an unexpected sight. His farther had wrapped his arms around something light skinned. The strange thing was slowly growing scales and he could see the sliths were his gills were placed.

 It looked like a freshly turned.

 Unfortunately, his arrival had not gone unnoticed. For when he finally looked op from the unknown creature, is was to find his farther staring at him.

 “I’m sorry sir, I was worried about you.” Hoping to make it slightly better he looked down.

After a long silence the man finally replied to him. “Son, meet….” sight “…. This is our ticket to a safe passage out of these waters.” Horrified the young shifter looks up. That sounded a lot like they were using this person, to- to- to trade! Did he really make such a mess that they had to resort to such things? Or- or was he getting replaced? He never meant to be such a horrible son to his father. Was he really not wanted? He knew he was a burden, he always got into problems, even if he didn’t mean to! He just, he was not as fast, or strong. Maybe father was right, no self respecting man would want such a weak son.

 “Where will they go?”

 “To the cave two lefts of where you were supposed to stay, there is a smaller room in there. That will be his space for the time being. You will guard him, feed him, and not speak a single word to him.” they weren’t leaving yet? More important, what was so special about this person that they were the solution to a problem he did not know existed? (but probably caused)

 “Yes father” Just as the pair is about to transfer the freshly turned, an almost unnoticeable tremor goes through the rocks. Startling the younger of the two.

 “What are you waiting for? Hurry up.” Muttering about annoying bastards the older doesn’t notice when a second trilling goes through the rocks. Slightly stronger this time.

 “Dad, where did all the fish go.” At the scared sound of his sons voice he turns around. Ready to berate him for wasting their time when he looks behind the boy. Something is moving rapidly their way. It does not look friendly. In does not look friendly at all. Nor does it sound friendly.

 “Shan, move! Go!”

 “Wha-“

 “NOW!” shoving the kidnappee in his son’s arms, he pushes the boy to one of the tunnels

 “I will be right behind you.” With that he turns around. Ready to defend his offspring.

Turning around Shan shoots the tunnels in. Only to find out that he cannot use the smallest ones with the extra baggage. Turning around at the sound of screams and crushed bones, the smell of blood reaches his nose.

 Papa is dead.

 Instead of swimming further inside the tunnels, Shan quickly decides to swim upwards towards dry land and move towards a different water from up there. While swiftly manoeuvring between the passages to get there, another trilling goes through the rocks. Making pieces of rubble fall down. He has finally wrestled the unconscious body on the land when he can see a dark mass moving towards the surface. Turning around he gathers the manlike creature in his arms and starts running. When he turns around, he sees a long tentacle moving out of the water and heading their way. Deciding to zigzag between trees to avoid getting caught he moves further and further land inwards. Stumbling over a tree root and turning around he notices nothing is behind him.

 Whatever that was, it can’t move on land. Placing that piece of information firmly on the forefront of his mind he sets course for the den. He made a promise and intents to keep it. Even if father will never know. </em>

  Hearing the story brings Stiles a great deal of relieve. Not only was this boy not the one who had kidnapped him. But the initial kidnapper was most likely very, very dead. To top it off, the were had a way to avoid being eaten, even if that meant going on land. Which his body very much did not agree with. Instinctively knowing changing forms at this point would be very painful, especially since his scales were still growing. Not that it mattered if it was a choice between being eaten and not being eaten.

 Right, Stiles, get your head in the game. Looking at the boy who had recently lost his father, and possibly his last living family member, he starts thinking of what they should do next. They cannot go back. Which meant that they have to find a new home.

 “Know any nice caves around here?”

 “Wait…. You, you are not mad? That I disobeyed orders?”

 “Sweetie, if you hadn’t, I would be dead right know. I kind of like being alive. Most of the time.” He had muttered the last part and was glad the boy didn’t seem to have noticed his words.

 “Not really? I mean. We have not been here for very long and I wasn’t allowed to explore a lot.”

 “I’m sure a curious boy like you has ventured out here before.” With a mischievous look they both grin to each other before bursting out laughing.

 Moving to find a new nest the two start sharing stories. It is the most fun both of them have had in a long while.

[bewaretheundead91]

Devenford Prep Part 33

Hello Readers,

It has been a long time since I’ve updated this fic. I’ve had this update for a while and have been waiting to post it. I’ve been really busy with school so if there are errors in this update (sorry I’ve been away writing other things). Also I just wanted to give you guys what I have. I hope you all have been doing well and feel free to send me messages. 

“Let’s go!” Brett shouts and yanks you up the bank of the ditch. 

“Really?” You shout stumbling. “That’s the first thing you're going to say to me in 4 days.”

Brett takes off into the woods away from the trails and back toward Devenford Prep, you without hesitation follow behind him. Back at the school the two of you run into the school building and toward the boy’s locker room to hide. Quickly you hide behind a row of lockers.

“We need to talk.” You say catching your breath.

“Shhhh,” Brett says placing a finger over his lips. “It’s in the school, I can hear it.”

“I can hear it too,” You whisper and roll your eyes. “God it smells terrible in here, can’t you guys clean up your shi-”

Brett snatches you by the arm and pulls you over toward a row of metal open lockers. The contents of gym shorts and t-shirts were spilling out onto the floor. In the distance there was a loud, heavy breathing. It sounded hollow and like it was trying to catch a scent. Then it got quiet, you snap your head toward the tall boy beside you and his eye flash yellow making your body got hot for a second. 

The creature appears instantly in front of the two of you and Brett shoves you across the room, you collide with a bench and fall to the ground. He flings his hands out and you catch glimpses of his claws. You could smell it in the air, he was angry and you could hear his heart racing. Quickly he shoots one of his feet up and kicks the creature in the stomach. It slams into a row of metal lockers, denting in the metal. Acting quickly, you get up and charge it, your fist makes contact with the bone helmet producing a loud crunch, it doesn’t crack or break. 

“What the?” You say looking down at your fist, it goes red and heals.

The locker room door busts open and a boy walks in. The berserker fades away leaving Brett and you alone in the room in a ready stance.

“What’s going on?” The boy asks looking at you and Brett in a defensive stance. “Is everything okay? Look man I heard the two of you were having a hard time, but you don’t have to fight a girl.”

Brett runs into one of the shower stalls and turns the water on. The boy looks at you up and down. Running a hand through your messy hair you slowly take a few steps toward the door awkwardly looking at the guy who had walked in. You rush out of there quickly.

“So-sorry,” You say. The heavy locker door shut. “We weren’t fighting.”

You jog over towards the girl’s locker room, sloppily pull on your school uniform, grab your things, and text Erika to meet you are Deaton’s. You google the beacon hills address and send it to Erika.

As you walk out you slam into a warm body. Awkwardly you jump. 

“We’ve got to go,” Brett says and you look up at him. His hair was wet and his white uniform oxford top was hanging off him loosely, unbutton, exposing the solid rock hard body that he had. You licked your lips and took a breath in. Brett speaking again ended your stare. “We need to talk to Scott.”

“Already ahead of you Talbot,” You say holding your phone up. “Just texted Erika to meet me there as soon as possible.”

“You really shouldn’t be bringing everyone you know into this. I know she was there that night and knows about us,” He comments while side eyeing you. Brett sets off to the front door of the school and walks out. “I’m sure Scott isn’t happy about this.”

“Oh no you don’t!” You shout walking out behind him. “Erika is my best friend and Liam’s girlfriend! Scott wouldn’t care! I care about Erika and I need her okay! Scott has told his human friends.”

“That’s a way to get the ones you love killed.” The tall boy says walking down the steps toward the parking lot.

“Oh yeah?” You perked up. “Oh yeah!?! Loved ones killed? I’ve almost died three times! Once because of some ridiculous assassin chick, then Garret went all edge lord, then…”

“Then what?” Brett asks stopping in place. He turns around. “What Y/N?”

“You!” You shout, you could feel your nails shifting into claws. “You almost killed me and then didn’t…forget it I’m not doing this now.”

“Might as well talk about it now since you’ll probably almost die for the fourth time soon.” Brett crosses his arms. A dangerous smirk appears on his lips.

“God you’re such an asshole,” You say unfazed. “You’re really the jerk you’ve been since day one! Don’t forget to go by Deaton’s too to make sure you don’t go all what’s the word, rogue. Again. Why don’t you get back with Samantha while you’re at it too because I don’t care anymore.”

You quickly walk past him and jogged over toward your car, you needed to get to Deatons and meet with Scott and Liam about the encounter. Brett appears instantly in front of your car.

“What do you want?” You ask reaching for your keys in your purse. “You want space then have as much as you want. I don’t think you understand the concept of friendship or whatever pack mentality really is…”

“Listen,” Brett inches in closer leaning up against your car. “I know pack mentally, but I stayed away from you for a reason, you needed the space.”

“You don’t know what I need,” You say frustrated, you unlock you car. “Didn’t I tell you I wanted you around that night? Couldn’t you see it? Smell it or sense it? God you’re so aloof Brett.”

“I almost killed you!” Brett shouts his eyes turn yellow. “You could have died! I could have killed you and I’m dealing with that. Why would anyone want to be around their killer.”

“It was out of your control, but you know what is in your control? How you’re handling this,” You open the car door and throw your bag in. You close your eyes for a second trying to hold in a secret, but it forces it’s way out. “I’m scared Brett!”

“We all are scared.”

  “You’re honestly the only person I feel safe around these days. I can’t bring my family into this, they are practically strangers to me now. I don’t even feel the same around Scott,” You look aways feeling something strange in the pit of your stomach. Your chest goes heavy. “And now since you’re distancing yourself away from me, I’m really scared. And it’s like I’m losing control over myself again.”

“I don’t understand how you can’t be scared of what happened,” Brett says. “It changed everything.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we’re friends Brett and I’ve saved you two times now? I’ve lost count. But it will take more than you trying to kill me to get me to leave. And you didn’t try to kill me on purpose. I’m a little hesitant to be around you because of whatever was in your system might still be there but I need you.”

“Need me?” Brett looked away feeling uncertain. “So you can have a place to crash or someone to help you-”

“No, It’s not that.” You get into your car and sit down.

“Then what is it?” Brett leans into the car.

“I’m tired of this Brett, I’m tired of this back and forth between us. It was fun at first, but it’s gets old at some point. Why can’t we just be normal, I don’t care what people think anymore. I don’t care what your lacrosse teammates think, what Samantha think. What Erika thinks. I really don’t care what Liam thinks either.”

“I don’t either,” He says. “I’m just conflicted.”

“Trust me, me too. It comes with the package.” You reach up and poke Brett on the forehead. 

“Hey!” He says back away a bit.

“Just get in, I’ll forget that you were being a total asshole the past 4 days.”

Brett got into the car and buckled up. He turns to look at you. He was itching to say something. He stared.

“What do you want Brett?” You ask. “You’re staring. I know I look like a mess.”

“I need to say I’m sorry,” Brett looks out the window and then back at you. “For everything. For how I treated you in high school up until now.”

“It’s a little late for that,” You say stabbing your key into the ignition. “Not too sure one apology will make up for all the times you made my life a living hell.”

“But I can make up for it,” He breaths. “We can truly try this pack thing out and we can get Scott involved.”

“Scott is involved.”

“But I wont let anything happen to you,” Brett whispers leaning in toward the driver’s side. He places a hand gently on your left check and guides your face closer to yours. Quickly he presses his lips to your forehead. As quickly as his lips found your skin they disappeared as he sits back in his seat as if nothing happened. “It’s more than owing you after what happened. One day you’ll find out, if you already haven’t found out.”

“Whatever that means Talbot,” You turn the key and rush out of the parking lot. “Can you do me a favor.”

“Yeah sure,” He says running a hand through his hair shaking it’s wet strands. “Anything.”

“Can you ugh,” You take one more good look at him, his pecks and his abs. You curse under your breath. “Can you button your shirt up.”

“It’s a little warm in here,” He smirks, side eyeing you. “Am I a distraction.”

“No, totally not a distraction. You a distraction?” You quickly turn your head so your eyes were facing the driver side window. Your eyes flashed. You curse under your breath again.

“I do have great hearing.” He says. “but if it’s really an issue I’ll button the shirt up. The ladies love it, you should be thankful that I am so comfortable with being shirtless around you.”

“Oh come on,” You say reaching for the button to turn on the music in your car. “Save it for later Talbot.”

“I’m saving it all for you baby.” He says laughing.

“Save it for yourself…you know those long sessions in front of the mirror in your bathroom…”

You pull into the parking lot of the Vet’s office and parked. Brett quickly jumps out of the car stretching his legs after being cramped in the front seat. 

“I should have drove. I’ll be driving from now on.”

“You could have to at least finished buttoning your top,” You roll your eyes and reach up to finish buttoning his top up. Your fingers brushed his skin and he shivers. “Are you okay? Is something wrong, do you feel like you’re being affected by that wolf’s bane?”

“No I just.” The office door bursts opens.

“Are you guys okay?” Scott rushes out. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“No,” Brett shakes his head and takes a step back. “Nothing.”

“We saw one of those things.” You start to say holding your hand up pointing to the air. 

“Those things with horns.” Brett continues the statement. 

“And it didn’t hurt you?” Scott rushes over concerned. “Or you?”

“No.” Brett says half way stepping in front of you he puffs up his chest.

“Calm down Brett.” You say trying to push him away from you. “It disappeared, but he tried to hurt us I think.”

“I’m starting to think that this is all a collaborative effort of some sort.” Brett nods his head.

[justliketherifle]

Second Chances

Derek/Reader. Reader (Stiles' older sister) is chased down and attacked by an Alpha. Derek finds her, but will she turn?

You ran through the woods, panting with the effort. You chanced a look behind you and heard a howl, but saw nothing. Your phone rang, and you fumbled it out of your pocket and answered it.

“Derek!” you cried.

“Where are you?” he asked worriedly.

“No idea! In the woods! I’ve got a wolf on my tail!”

“Keep running, I’m on my way.”

Your phone immediately rang again and you quickly answered it.

“(Y/N), we’ve got a problem. There’s a new Alpha in town,” Stiles told you.

“Yeah, no shit! I’m running for my life here!”

“What? Where are you?”

“Why do people keep asking me that?! I’m in the damn woods!”

Just then, you tripped over a tree root sticking up through the leaves and fell down a slope. You landed hard and the air whooshed out of you. You could hear Stiles calling your name as you struggled to breathe. Suddenly, the wolf was on top of you, its hot breath fanning across your face.

“Stiles,” you managed weakly. “I love you.”

You could hear him yelling for you, telling you not to give up, but you were only human. You didn’t stand a chance. You screamed as the wolf tore its claws into you and sank its fangs into your side.

The weight disappeared and you could hear the faint sounds of fighting and growling. You looked toward the sounds but couldn’t see anything through your blurred vision. After a moment, the noise stopped and Derek was above you, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“(Y/N), stay with me, okay? Just stay with me, please,” he begged.

He lifted you into his arms as gently as he could, but you still cried out in pain. He began running through the woods, desperate to get you to Deaton. He reached his car and set you in the passenger seat before getting in and speeding off toward the vet’s office.

Once you reached it, he pulled you out of the car. Scott and Stiles were waiting for you.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, putting his hands on his head.

“She was bitten. She could turn,” Scott told them both reassuringly.

Deaton was waiting to open the door and led you all into the back. Derek laid you on the table and took your face in his hands.

“Hey, can you hear me? (Y/N)!” He was really worried.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I can hear you.”

Derek began taking your pain away, jaw clenching from the effort. Deaton started cleaning your wounds.

“I’m afraid all we can do is wait and see if the bite takes. If it doesn’t, well…” he said apologetically.

You could hear Stiles punch something and Derek went to stop him.

“She wouldn’t want this,” Derek told your little brother.

“Stiles,” you said weakly, reaching out your hand.

He came over and took hold of it tightly, sniffling as tears ran down his cheeks. “I’m here.”

“It’s gonna be okay, kid.”

He laughed humorlessly. “You’re laying here, possibly dying, and you’re comforting me?”

“It’s my job. Listen, if my body rejects the bite, you and Dad need to take care of each other. You got it? Make him eat healthier. Don’t let him drink too much.”

More tears fell. “(Y/N), come on. What are we supposed to do without you? We already lost Mom, we can’t lose you too. Come on, you gotta hold on for me, okay? I need my big sister.”

“You have to tell Dad the truth too. He deserves to know how I really died.”

“You are not gonna die, okay? You can’t. I’m not gonna let you.”

You chuckled. “I’ll do my best. Derek?” You reached out your other hand.

Derek took it and rubbed his thumb along your knuckles. “Yeah?”

“I need you to take care of my family. Please.”

He nodded, trying not to cry. “I will. I promise.”

“I’m so stupid, I shouldn’t have been out there. Now I’m gonna die and we never got to…” You started to cry.

Derek shushed you. “Never got to what?”

“Derek, you have to be blind if you don’t know how much I care about you.”

He smiled slightly. “I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

You laughed, squeezing both their hands as a wave of pain accompanied it. “Of course you knew.”

“I’m sorry I never said anything. I should’ve…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Because you’re gonna be okay and I’m gonna take you out, okay?”

You could feel yourself slipping away. “Where?”

“That Italian place you love. Just you and me. You can wear that purple dress I love, okay?”

“That sounds nice.”

Your vision began to go dark. You could hear Stiles and Derek calling for you, but you couldn’t hold on anymore.

When you woke up, the sun was out. The birds were so loud that morning. You realized you could hear the thumping of three heartbeats and you looked down at where your wounds had been. They were completely healed.

You sat up and looked around you. Stiles, Scott and Derek were all asleep on the floor, sitting up against the wall. You hopped off the table and went to Stiles. You could see tearstains on his cheeks. You put a hand on his left cheek and whispered his name.

His eyes opened slowly and stared at you. “(Y/N)?” he murmured hopefully.

“Hey, kid.”

He jumped to his feet and threw his arms around you. You returned the hug, rubbing his back as he fought back sobs.

“I’m okay, Stiles. I’m okay,” you reassured him.

He pulled back and wiped away his tears. “Yeah. You’re okay. And you’re a werewolf.”

“I guess so. That should be interesting.”

He glanced over at Derek. “So what’s with you and sourwolf?”

“I’m not sure yet. Something, I hope.”

He nodded. “All right, let me get Scott and we’ll leave you alone for a minute.”

“Thanks.”

He roused Scott, who also gave you a hug and a smile. They left for the front of the office and you turned to Derek. You leaned down and took his face in your hands.

“Derek.”

His eyes shot open. “You’re okay.” He stood up and looked you over. “Thank god.” He wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly.

You laid your head on his chest, returning the hug. “I’m okay.”

“I thought…it just seemed like it was taking so long.”

“I always have done things in my own time,” you replied with a chuckle.

He pulled back to look at you. “Did you mean what you said last night?”

“I did. You?”

“Hell yes. You busy tonight?”

“Well it’s not a full moon, so no.”

“Let’s go out. Let’s celebrate.”

You nodded. “Let me go home first, talk to my dad. We can’t keep this from him anymore. I’ll take Scott and show him.”

“All right. Meet at my place after? I just…I want you close right now.”

You smiled softly. “I get that.” You placed a hand on his cheek and glanced down at his lips. “How do you feel about women who make the first move?”

He smirked. “I’ll tell you when it happens.”

You leaned it and pressed your lips to his. He put his hands on your hips and pulled you closer, kissing you back fiercely. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

After a moment, Derek broke the kiss to get in a breath. You laughed and pecked his cheek.

“How do you feel about guys who make the second move?” he asked you.

“Love them.”

With that, you continued kissing him, a shiver of pleasure running up your spine. You could hear Stiles come back and say “Gross!” before leaving again. You chuckled into the kiss.

Thank goodness for second chances.

[tnffc]

I gasped when I read this one~ "The name of your soulmate appears on your body only after that person falls in love with you."

Yes, that’s a really nice one!

Ok so, I am dead tired now, I wrote this in one go, it’s kinda late and I am not sure it makes entirely sense. But I’m done and here it is:

_________________

When Stiles had hit puberty he had wanted mainly one thing, to find his soulmate.

He couldn’t really tell back then why he felt that strong a need for it - he had thought it might be because his soulmate was close by and he just needed to find them and fall in love and have them fall in love with him as well.

When he met Lydia he was convinced it had to be her.

She was beautiful, he was so smitten and they could banter so great - the few times she decided to let her true intelligence show.

He was sure his name already had to have shown up on her skin, but she never made the slightest of hints it might so he wasn’t sure. Maybe he was just crushing but not really in love with her? Maybe his name had shown up but she didn’t like the idea and he’d have to convince her he was worthy? Maybe she didn’t know it was him? No, if his name had been on her skin she’d have been smart enough to find out it was him. He had no doubt.

When he went to the public pool with Scott one summer though he saw Lydia there, in a pretty revealing bikini and no name in sight. This gave him a lot of questions.

~*~

Two years later Scott was bitten by a werewolf in the woods, and a little bit later than that Stiles was confronted with a man, a dangerous, impressive man that gave him the most conflicting feelings.

Peter Hale.

His heart was beating like crazy when Peter was holding his wrist, when his mouth got so close to the hem of his sleeve and the skin underneath it.

Then there was a quick, burning sensation at the small of his back.

It made him snap out of it and pull his arm away.

“I don’t wanna be like you.”

He didn’t, but he wanted…something.

And the man called him out on it but Stiles stayed put.

The pain in his back was gone and with a final “Goodbye Stiles” so was Peter.

Stiles didn’t even find the time our wit to respond anything anymore.

When he comes home and checks on his back in the mirror his organs feel like they were randomly swapped in his body and not liking it at all. His legs actually gave in.

Peter stood there, in a beautiful handwriting, not in any way modest but big and possessively stretching from one side of his lower back to the other.

Great, he would not be able to show anybody ever again his back with this.

Scott would lose his mind if he found out the guy they were trying to get rid of was his soulmate.

His father would not understand either, he’d try not to be an asshole about it, but he wouldn’t understand.

Why though had Peter’s name even shown up? Surely the little they had spoken wasn’t enough for Peter to have fallen for him…Stiles knew he was neither that pretty nor charming.

Maybe this was a mistake? Maybe a curse? Another Peter perhaps?

No, it was this Peter, it hadn’t been coincidence the name had appeared when they had been in the garage together.

The lower back of all places…obviously the hands or face would have been more difficult, but at least smaller…

~*~

From there things escalated.

The climax of the entire disaster was when Stiles was holding a molotov cocktail and threw it at the creature that was Peter - his soulmate - with almost no hesitation.

He was afraid and then relieved when the glass didn’t break, but everything was already set in motion and he might not have lit the fire but he might as well have.

Watching Peter burn again hurt even more than he had feared and the grave reality of all of it started to set in.

When Peter fell, dead, his flesh burned so much he was almost beyond recognizable Stiles felt a part of him die. That part was the naive wish he had had to find his soulmate.

He had been convinced it’d be something to be happy about, something that’d make his life whole again.

In losing that dream he realized what it had represented for him.

Finding his soulmate - so he had thought - would mean overcoming the loss of his mother and to an extent his father. Because while his dad was still alive Stiles had often felt like he had lost him as well. His father was better now, but the first years after Stiles’ mother had died his father had given himself over to work and alcohol.

Stiles desire to find his soulmate had been his desire to find someone who would not leave or reject him.

And Peter actually hadn’t. He had embraced the idea of Stiles belonging to him, his pack…

In the end maybe people weren’t leaving and rejecting him, maybe Stiles himself was responsible for not having anybody who actually loved him. After all, he had basically killed the one person that might have been able to.

So his dream died, and his faith in love with it.

~*~

The decision to get a tattoo had taken a while, mainly because Stiles was not a fan of needles.

But he felt handicapped, always paranoid about somebody seeing the name of his soulmate.

There were other Peters in their lives, but none he was remotely close to, he would have to answer questions and Derek probably knew his uncle’s handwriting and the risk was just heightening his anxiety to a troublesome level.

So there he was lying on the tattooist’s table, using a breathing technique that usually calmed him down.

The buzzing of the needle changed a bit in tone when it dug into his skin and the pain wasn’t great, but it actually wasn’t as bad a feeling as he had worried.

As long as he didn’t have to watch the needle stab him repeatedly he might actually be fine.

In the end he had a huge black wolf covering his lower back, accompanied by a few pine trees.

He had thought about it for quite a while and decided it was fitting. And considering his best friend was a werewolf now, and there started to be a small pack of them he felt it was easily explained why he had chosen the motiv.

No one needed to know it was in memoriam of the former Hale Alpha.

It wasn’t like he could openly bemoan it.

And it also wasn’t like he actually had a right to.

He hadn’t known Peter.

The love Peter had felt for him could only have been superficial at best, delusional at worst.

He wasn’t really mourning for the man Peter Hale, he was mourning for the lost possibilities.

The eyes of the werewolf were white spots in it’s dark face.

He had thought about having them done in red, but that might raise questions again. He had thought about making them blue, for the death he felt guilty for, but that might have raised questions as well. He hadn’t felt like yellow was an option though. So they were ghostly blank specks, letting the wolf look a bit eerie - he actually quite liked it.

“Why do you want to cover it up?” the tattoo artist had asked.

“You don’t like who it is?”

Stiles had taken a deep breath.

“He’s dead.”

“Shit man…how old are you? You can’t be more than eighteen or nineteen…that’s rough.”

He sighed, resigned, trying not to let it get to him.

“Yeah…”

A small consultation had been the discount the guy had given him on the work.

Stiles would probably have turned it down if he hadn’t already felt bad about using their money on getting a tattoo in the first place.

Scott actually thought the tattoo looked cool and decided to get one himself. Turns out you need fire to get a tattoo to stick on werewolf skin.

In that moment Stiles hadn’t been as sad as usually that he didn’t take the bite.

He continued life, continued the social interactions as before - he even still implied now and then Lydia might be his soulmate, though he did tone it down a lot since it was just for show.

She was the only one to realize actually. And he was the first to realize something was strange about her.

They didn’t figure it out before Peter was resurrected though.

~*~

Peter came back and Stiles had difficulties grasping that for a few days.

He was more aware than ever of the letters on his back, hidden underneath the fur of a big, black wolf. But he had no idea what to do about it. He didn’t even know if they still were soulmates. Resurrection wasn’t covered in soul and sex ed classes…

Maybe Peter belonged to somebody else now…

~*~

When Peter first really came face to face with Stiles his tortured wolf was in turmoil and he had difficulties controlling it, especially with the alpha powers amping up it’s strength even more.

The closer he got the more wholesome and familiar Stiles’ scent seemed to be - like a home he had never known he had. Almost like pack and somehow a lot more.

It was when his nose was almost touching Stiles’ skin when holding his arm that let everything click into place.

Stiles was his soulmate.

Peter knew very little about this boy, but he wasn’t a man at the moment, he was little more than a feral wolf with a human suit. And his wolf loved Stiles unconditionally.

He sense the boy was his soulmate and that was all it took.

Which made it so much more painful when it was Stiles who threw the molotov cocktail and doomed his fate.

~*~

He felt more sane now. The powers were gone, the manic need to take revenge. Left was the pain, the healthy need to take revenge and the knowledge he had found his soulmate in a high school student of his god forsaken hometown.

~*~

Stiles had to admit Peter seemed to do a lot better.

He was widely hated or at the very least shunned by most of the pack - Erica and Boyd being the most neutral of the bunch and derek and Stiles being the only two occasionally acting with anything resembling sympathy towards him. And yet Peter did little more than snark unless someone attacked him first.

He was smart and helpful - if he felt like it - he took no shit but made an effort to be considered pack. He actually cooked for them on pack nights - introducing Boyd to the passion of preparing food.

Stiles was torn between getting closer to find out what they could have had and keeping his distance because it might hurt too much.

But it got harder and harder to ignore their connection.

~*~

Peter had accepted Stiles might never love him back.

Over the last two years he had gotten to know the boy - young man by now - and had understood more and more why they were soulmates. But Stiles had to know it, had to have found Peter’s name somewhere on his body by now, because while at first it might just have been his wolf, Peter ow loved Stiles entirely.

How could he not, Stiles was everything Peter admired in others. If it had been up to him he would have worshipped Stiles every day.

But it was okay, he understood. He had done horrible things and it was understandable Stiles would never return his feelings. He just wished Stiles would mention it to him. Yes, humans did not necessarily know when they found their soulmate, but wolves did.

Werewolf soulmates sensed each other.

And by now Stiles definitely knew that. He had read every book in Peter’s personal library, he knew almost as much about supernatural creatures as Peter himself.

~*~

It happened totally unexpected.

Stiles had been over at Peter’s for hours, researching on a new spell he wanted to try.

Peter was working - he had picked up his old job as a consultant on artefacts, their origin and depending on whether or not his client was in the know if it was dangerous or not.

He felt a strange burning sensation on his neck and cursed under his breath while his hand instinctively covered the skin there.

Stiles meanwhile made a choked noise.

Peter turned to him in confusion.

“What’s with you?” he asked, a little sullen while rubbing his neck.

The pain was gone already, probably just a bug that hat stung him.

He very much appreciated the fact his healing worked just fine. To this day he sometimes dreamed of being imprisoned in his own body, drowning in physical and emotional pain.

Instead of answering him Stiles collected his things, stuffed them in his bag and moved to leave Peter’s apartment.

Not sure how to react Peter passed Stiles with supernatural speed and blocked his way, eyes searching for a goddamn reason.

“What is suddenly going on Stiles?”

He saw Stiles’ eye flicker to his neck where he though he had been stung.

“What? What is it? Does it look bad?”

He was more confused than angry still, touching his neck again but not feeling any kind of skin irritation.

Stiles shook his head while Peter tilted his and still stared.

Eventually Stiles rubbed his own neck.

“Just…go take a look in the mirror…I’ll still be here when you come back. Promise.”

Peter moved to look at the mirror in the hallway and could not believe what he saw.

In Stiles’ scribbled handwriting there was a name written on the left side of his neck, just underneath his jawline.

Mieczyslaw.

He stared at it blankly for a while, comprehending what this meant.

“Is your…” he swallowed hard “It this…yours?” his voice almost died on the last word.

Stiles sighed as if he was sorry.

“Yeah…”

But how was that possible?

“Why now?” he managed to say.

Stiles just shrugged.

“It was just a really nice and soft moment, domestic and wholesome…everything I ever hoped for back when…when I felt like I had noone…”

Peter swallowed hard against the tightness of his throat.

“But…my name…why did you never…”

Stiles lowered his gaze.

“I…I didn’t think you could still love me after I- you know…I also wasn’t sure you were still mine to have…”

Peter rubbed his hand over the letters again and smiled weakly.

“We are such idiots…”

Then his eyes changed and something like a want appeared in them, his voice was still hoarse but the melancholic undertone was disappearing.

“Show me yours.”

~*~

Stiles chewed on his lower lip.

“I covered it up…”

Hesitantly he turned around and lifted his shirt to show the tattoo.

“Oh wow…” Peter mused behind him.

“Can I touch it?”

Stiles swallowed.

“Yes.”

He felt Peter’s fingertips follow the form of the wolf and the trees.

“I actually like it” he said, now definitely sounding longing, almost lusting.

“I will wear your name on my neck with pride though. If you want me to that is.”

Stiles turned around at those words and nodded.

“I would love that.”

Peter grinned delighted.

“May I kiss you, Mieczyslaw?”

Stiles snorted.

“Although I am impressed you actually pronounced it right I really hope for your sake that was the last time you called me that.”

Peter smirked and spoke teasingly “you didn’t answer.”

With his cheeks blushing even more Stiles nodded.

“Yes please.”

[mf-despair-queen]

No Strings Attached- Stiles Stilinski

Author: @mf-despair-queen​

Characters: Stiles Stilinski/Reader

Word Count: 12,357

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral (Both Receiving), Stiles’ large dick, Stiles being a fucking idiot, Clumsy Stiles, Sappy Sex, Sappy moments, just generally really romantic and fluffy sex

Notes: So like, this was for @fillthevoid-stilinski‘s writing challenge and I really hope I didn’t disappoint Em with this because I didn’t wanna do something cliche considering the prompt was “What Happened to the no strings attached concept?” If y’all hate it, I’m sorry :’) I’m really scared of how this came out...

“Scott, I swear this case has everything to do with something supernatural.” Stiles paused, listening to his friend talk through the receiver. “What do you mean you doubt it? Dude, you saw the picture I sent you right? Every single person killed has had the same mark. It’s not a coincidence.” He paused again. “Ten people, Scott. Ten people with the exact same tattoo? I asked the only tattoo artist in this small town and he’s never seen it before. It has to be a pack symbol.”

Stiles sighed to himself, sitting on a rock, glancing at his surroundings. He was wandering in the woods outside the small town in Colorado, the crisp leaves crunching under his feet whenever he took another step. He was looking for clues not far from the most recent crime scene, his colleagues investigating the body of the young man that was chopped to bit. It was hard to believe he was finally a full-fledged FBI agent, traveling the states on different missions. He had thought his life would be more different than it was in high school, escaping Beacon Hills and the supernatural world that inhabited it.

But no. He always seemed to get stuck on cases that dealt with the alternate world he was thrown into at the tender age of sixteen.

“Scott, I’m not losing my mind of this,” he mumbled to his friend, sighing loudly. “Are you sure you don’t know of any pack that lives in Colorado? You’re the one that went on a cross-country crusade to stop Monroe so you’re the only one I can think of that would know someone out here.” He stopped talking, biting at his lip in frustration. “Alright, alright. I get it. I’ll keep you updated. It doesn’t look like Monroe’s work since they are literally hacked up and their back has the carving of two like… arches with a line between them and two little dots on that line. It’s like an oval that is spliced by the line and the dots are in the middle of the oval. But I know it’s not her, but I will find out why someone is hunting the supernatural down here.” He paused, groaning. “Yes, it is supernatural! Bye Scott!”

He hung up, picking himself up off the rock he had perched himself on, wandering further into the woods. Stiles fumbled to unbutton the top button of his burgundy button up, letting out a deep breath when he felt he could finally breathe properly. The late-summer Colorado heat was getting to him and he regretted dressing up the way he normally did when he was in the field. Rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, he trudged through the trees, finding nothing that could help him.

“How the hell am I supposed to solve this if it is supernatural?” He asked himself, running his hand through his spiky quiff of hair. “No one will understand. And how the fuck do I explain the reason these people are targeted is because they do things no other people can?” The spastic boy let out a huff, kicking at the dirt and rocks under his feet. “Fuck! Why is this my luck? Why!”

He went to kick the ground again in his frustration, finding himself tumbling down a nearby hill when his feet slipped from under him. He landed with a grunt in a pile of leaves, mud and leaves straining his pressed shirt and jeans, twigs sticking up from his hair. His back ached in pain from how he landed, Stiles sure he was going to wake up with bruises tomorrow.

“Well, that was smart, Stiles,” he muttered to himself, rubbing at his face. “Really smooth. I thought we were passed this clumsy stage of your life.”

“Obviously you aren’t,” a voice cut through the air, breaking Stiles from his daze. His eyes snapped open, his hands moving so he could stare at the figure above him. His honey-brown orbs dilated, taking in a ray of sunlight before focusing on your eyes staring down at him. His mouth dried instantly, his jaw going slack. He admired your beauty silently. The way your hair draped over your shoulders, the sparkle behind your eyes, the plump lusciousness of your lips, the faint blush that spread over your cheeks. The tops of your breasts slightly spilled out from your tank top, the vibrant blue lace peeking over the hem line. Your hands were on your knees, your ass sticking out in your bent over state, but Stiles could see how perfectly round it was. He licked at his lips, trying to ease the dry sensation, though it seemed to be failing. “What are you doing here anyway? This is private property.”

Stiles chuckled aloud unconsciously, his hand ruffling his hair. “Haven’t I heard that before?” He saw your head cock to the side in confusion, his face flushing with embarrassment. “I-I mean…”

“I really don’t care,” you stated bluntly, a dull look on your face. “I just want you off my property.”

Stiles rolled onto his stomach, lifting himself to his feet slowly. You stood in front of him, shorter than him, arms crossed over your chest. He attempted to dust off his pants, clearing his throat. “I um… I’m Mieczyslaw Stilinski. I’m with the FBI and we are here-“

“I know why you are here,” you cut him off. “I also already knew who you are.” You held up his wallet, his ID and badge visible to him. He pat his pocket, realizing it had been missing.

“How did you…”

“You’re easy to pickpocket,” you retorted, handing him back his wallet. “I don’t know anything about the murders. I don’t know the people that got murdered. I rarely go into town. So, you have no business being here. Can you please leave?”

Stiles’ brow furrowed, looking you up and down. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing,” you sneered, glaring at him. “I just want you off my fucking property.”

You turned to walk away, his arm darting out to grab your wrist. “Who are you? You know something about what is going on, so please tell me what you know. If you don’t, I will have to come back with a warrant and I know you don’t want that. Please answer me.” Your head snapped back at him, growling slightly, your eyes flashing a dangerous shade of crimson. Stiles’ eyes widened, slowly releasing his hold on your wrist. “You’re an alpha…”

You chuckled coldly, beginning to walk away from him. “Alpha? Don’t make me laugh. I’m not some stupid wolf. I guess I’m the equivalent of though.” You stopped walking, looking back at him. “How does a human like yourself know about the supernatural?”

“A few years’ experience, I guess,” the spastic male said, his tone slightly bitter at the thought of his best friend. “If you’re supernatural, you must have some information. Please, I could really use your help.”

“I’m not interested in helping the police,” you said quietly, though Stiles could feel deep inside that you weren’t being truthful.

“Why are you lying to me?” He asked, hesitantly stepping forward. “Why won’t you help us? Whoever is doing this is terrorizing your home. Why won’t you do anything about it?”

“Mr. Stilinski, with all due respect, you know nothing about me. My kind are very solitary people. I want nothing to do with anyone. I’m sorry that they died but this has nothing to do with me.”

Stiles frowned, glancing down at the ground. He processed your words, sighing loudly. “Please, I’m begging you. All I’m asking is for a little bit of help. You know this area, you know the pack that is being killed. I’m not asking for you to drop everything and help us find the unsub. All I’m asking is for a bit of knowledge. A bit of insight on what is happening. Because I know how this goes. No one else on my team knows about werewolves, or banshees or hell, I’m sure even vampires exist! But if I’m not careful, they will die. This person, or people maybe, they are capable of killing of werewolves. I’m here to stop them without losing anyone else. So, I ask one last time. Will you please help me?”

You looked back at him, seeing the conviction in his face. His heartbeat was steady, telling you that he meant every word. You bit your bottom lip, your heart speeding up with anxiety and fear. “Stilinski…”

His phone suddenly rang, him holding up a finger. “Just… don’t leave yet.” He pulled the black phone from his pocket, pressing it to his ear. “Stilinski. Yeah, sorry.” He stopped, his eyes widening. “What the hell you found three more bodies? Have we even gotten an ID on the last one we found?”

Your eyes widened. Three more people dead. Your heart clenched, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Ryan Harper?” He said, glancing over at you. He noticed you stiffen, taking a deep breath. “Alright. Keep looking and text me any details. I will meet you back at the police station in a bit.” He hung up, pocket his phone, rushing over to you. “Hey, you alright?”

You nodded slowly, hugging yourself tighter. “If I agree to help you, we need to set some rules, alright?” You told him abruptly, Stiles looking taken aback by your statement.

“I… yeah, yeah. Completely. Totally. Whatever it takes to stop this guy,” he rambled. You sighed, your tense body rushing away.

“Meet me at my house in five.”

He watched you retreat, a million questions rushing through his mind. He wondered what caused the sudden change in your mannerisms. Was it because of him? Or the fact that three more bodies were found? Was it the man Ryan Harper they identified? Stiles wasn’t sure what it was, but his heart swelled at the fact that you agreed to help. His feet moved without him thinking, following in the direction that you disappeared to moments earlier.

The door was open when he arrived at the worn down wooden cabin, finding you sitting atop an old couch that squeaked under your weight. He closed the door carefully, afraid it would fall if he was too rough with it. You glanced at him, gesturing to the blue lounge chair across from you. He smiled in thanks, sitting down slowly.

“Let’s cut to the chase, Stilinski,” you started, running a hand through your hair. “I’m not the most social person. I don’t want to get close to you or close to anyone in the town. If I’m going to help you, I am going to help and that is that. Got it?” Stiles remained silent, a sign that he was listening and agreeing. “I don’t want to help the police because I don’t want to risk getting close to anyone. But I will help because this is my home. If this person is coming after supernatural, naturally they will come after me, right?”

“Most likely,” Stiles said, leaning back in the chair, kicking one leg over his knee. Your eyes narrowed at him, annoyance written on your face at the idea of him getting comfortable. “So far it’s just this one pack as far as I know. And the only reason I believe that is they have the same pack symbol on their body. I don’t know if there is more besides you and this pack, but my guess is they are going after all supernatural creatures in this town.”

“Exactly,” you told him, leaning forward on your knees. Your stomach churned, licking at your lips.

“Why did you agree to help?” He asked, playing with his fingers. “It’s not just about saving your own skin.” He saw the hard look on your face, interlocking in fingers in thought. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You know, I may live alone and don’t interact with anyone, but this is my home. I was born and raised here. The last thing I want is to see more people dying because they had no choice in what they were. No one in that pack is bitten. They were all born werewolves. They protect this town for the most part. Why are they being punished for that?”

Stiles ignored the “for the most part” aspect of your statement, knowing he would be risking your cooperation if he pried too early, or even at all. He made a mental note of it, however, never forgetting what you said. “I can’t answer that now, but I will find out why. And I will stop this guy, whoever he is.” He slid forward, hesitating briefly before taking you hand in his. “I promise. I understand what it means to protect a town. I will do everything in my power to help.”

You glanced up at him, cracking a small smile. “Thanks, Mieczyslaw.”

The brown-haired male chuckled, running his thumb over your knuckle. “She smiles. Imagine that.” You glared at him slightly at his words. “I’m kidding. And if it’s easier, call me Stiles. That’s what I prefer.”

“I like that. Stiles,” you repeated, Stiles’ body heating up when his name rolled off your tongue. “I’m Y/N.”

“Beautiful,” he mumbled, though he knew deep down your trained ears heard him clearly. “So. Not getting close. I get that. You help us stop this guy by providing any information you can. But what can I do for you in return? You’re helping in an FBI investigation. What can I do for you in return for your help?”

“Nothing.”

“What?” He asked confused at your single worded answer. “Nothing? How is that fair to you?”

“I want my home safe, Stiles. That’s all I need,” you told him, standing from your seat and heading for the window. You leaned on the frame, staring out the dirty glass. “Have you ever heard of doing something with no strings attached?”

“Honestly, the only no strings attached I think of is the kind I saw in movies when people fuck without developing feelings for each other, not wanting to be tied down in a relationship,” he uttered seriously, a small chuckle amidst his words. You laughed a bit at his answer, shaking you head.

“I guess that’s one way to look at it,” you laughed at him, Stiles cracking a large smile at the noise. “No strings attached is more like… I don’t need anything in return. My help is free of charge. I want to help, but I don’t want to risk being close to you. Or tying you down to some debt you might owe me. I don’t need money, I don’t need friendship. I want you out as soon as possible.”

Stiles sighed, lifting himself from the chair. “Fine. It’s a deal. From this moment on, we are professional colleagues. No relationship passed that. You help us, no strings attached.” He walked over, sticking out his hand to you. “Deal?”

You looked between his hand and his face, slowly reaching out to shake it. “Deal.”

The silence was thick, the tension palpable as you sat on the couch looking through photos and reports with the Stilinski boy. He was perched on the floor across the table from you, two pens behinds his ears, one in his mouth, and one scrawling what seemed to be gibberish on a notepad. His eyes scanned over the various photos in front of him haphazardly, but he held the same look of determination you came to recognize daily.

Roughly a week you found yourself waking up to the agent pounding on your door, bundles of papers in his arms, ready to enlist your help in trying to figure out what was happening and why. It was always quiet between the two of you, though you always caught him sparing a glance at you every so often, his honey brown eyes turning away in fear of you catching him. Occasionally he would drag you off the couch and through the woods, telling you that you were going to find more evidence hopefully.

You never did.

Stiles’ brow furrowed, placing the papers in his hands on the table. The pen dropped from his mouth into his lap, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I don’t get it,” he mumbled, placing the notepad on the table and standing from his sitting position. His hand ran through his hair, his back muscles flexing in the blue button up he chose to wear. You watched him silently, confused as to what he was mumbling to himself.

You picked up his notepad, scanning over the gibberish of his notes in hopes to figure it out without having to outright ask. Something about the man set you awry, making your stomach churn in ways you weren’t sure how to judge. Even in the silent times you had spent with him, you deduced a lot of the man. He was definitely passionate about trying to help, just as he had promised he would. He didn’t like to give up. But he was growing agitated but the day that he was no closer to finding the killer.

You couldn’t blame him. You were getting frustrated as well. But it was more that he wouldn’t really tell you anything. Maybe it was your own doing and you not really asking for more ways to help. You feared talking to the Stilinski boy, afraid of what would come if you dd. Every time you opened your mouth to say something, it immediately shut, you heart hammering in your chest. And it irked you more than you didn’t know why. Maybe it was the couple times he would dare pop a question about your personal life, though he hadn’t done that in two days. Maybe he finally got the hint when you shut him down every single time.

Your eyes finally stopped on the small drawing he kept repeating in the corner of every paper he scribbled on. “Stiles?” You finally spoke up, catching his attention. You pointed to the symbol, the circle with a dark black dot on the right and left side of it. “Is this on everyone you’ve found?”

“Yeah, it has been. What do you know about it?” He asked, his eyes narrowing on your form as he scratched at his chin in thought. “I figured it was their pack symbol since everyone had it…”

“Well, you aren’t wrong,” you mumbled, Stiles hearing every word clearly from across the room. “It represented the full moon. They weren’t the… most controlled on full moons back in the day from what I heard. So, it was supposed to be a reminder that the full moon doesn’t control them.”

Stiles nodded, glancing at the symbol. “You know an awful lot about this.” You stilled, placing the notepad on the table slowly. “It’s not because you’re part of their pack. So how do you know about it?”

You played with your fingers, not glancing at him. “I thought we agreed on no personal questions, Stilinski.”

“Yeah, but that was before I learned that you know more than I originally thought. I knew you had information, but you knew these people. How do you know them? Do you know who would be attacking them? What relationship did you have with them? Does it have to do with Ryan-“

Your head snapped up at him, your eyes flashing their red color at him. “This has nothing to do with that bastard!”

Stiles sighed, taking careful steps towards you, daring himself to take a seat next to you. With a shaky hand, he reached for your own, his large, veiny one enveloping yours completely. “You know you can tell me. Nothing will change from you telling me.”

You sighed, watching his fingers rub your skin. The feeling was soothing and felt right to you. “It’s not that easy.”

“Does this have to do with why you don’t like getting close to people? Why you wanted a strictly professional relationship on this?” You spared a single glance at him, your mouth staying tightly shut. “You fight having any personal relationships. I understand that your kind is supposed to be solitary, as you put it, but you can’t shelter yourself from everything.”

“What do you know, Stiles?” You sneered. “You know nothing about these parts. You know nothing about me.”

“Because you’re still human too. And us as humans crave some form of interaction in some way,” he stated quietly, giving your hand a small squeeze. “You think you’re a monster and you’re not. It’s ok to feel.” He watched quietly, awaiting a response, his moon taking a downturn when he not none. “Maybe you should go rest for a bit. I’m gonna look for some more clues now that I know a bit more about their pack and I will be back. And how about I bring some Chinese take-out?”

“What?” You asked, looking at him. He had this stupid smile on his face and you had to fight your own smile from plastering itself on your cheeks. “I thought we agreed that I didn’t need anything in return for your help.”

“It’s not in return for your help. We just need dinner if we are going to go over more photos and reports when I return,” he laughed, poking your nose. “No ifs, ands or buts about it. I’m craving some chow mien and we have work to do. You need a nap.”

Stiles placed a quick kiss to your cheek before removing himself from the couch and grabbing his gun, which you always insisted he leave by the door, and jacket, slipping them on his body. He left before you could protest further, a hot blush spreading across your cheeks. You barely knew the man but he made you feel flustered, a feeling you hadn’t felt in years. You ran your fingers over your face, sighing into your palms. Picking yourself up from the cushions, you made your way down the hall to your room, collapsing on the bed.

“What are you doing to me, Mieczyslaw Stilinski?” You asked yourself, letting your eyes close. I told myself I would never feel again after him…

Stiles struggled to open the door with the bags of Chinese food in his hands but never gave up in his endeavor. The door was kicked shut noisily behind him when he finally shuffled through the frame, dropping the bags onto the table. The room was dark, the sun outside not lighting the tiny forest cabin like he was used to. Clicking on the flashlight on his phone, he found a few candles, lighting them till the room was lit enough that he could make out the furniture he was so used to.

He glanced around, seeing no sign of you, frowning slightly. “Y/N?” he called out, receiving no response. He checked the kitchen before wandering down the hall, cracking open each door to check. It wasn’t until he heard a small scream that his head snapped to the door at the end of the hall, his eyes narrowing and his hand reaching for his gun. “Y/N?”

The scream echoed through the house again, Stiles making his way to the room without hesitation. He pushed the door open, his ears prickling at the shrill squeak of the hinges.  His hand lowered from his gun when he saw your writhing on the bed, tears streaming down your face, another scream escaping your perfect lips. His eyes widened at the sight, almost tripping over his own feet when he stumbled forward.

“Y/N? He asked, crawling onto the bed with you, holding you flat to the mattress to keep from fighting at him. “Hey, wake up! Y/N, you’re having a nightmare. Wake. Up!” He tried to get across, but your eyes stayed glued shut. He frowned at the sight of you, his heart breaking into a million pieces. You were cold and unwilling to let him get close to you, but it still hurt him to see you hurting. He hated admitting openly that you intrigued him and he liked being around you. He felt drawn to you and he didn’t know why. “Shit, shit. What do I do?” He asked himself, running a hand through his hair.

He watched your mouth part, muttering to yourself. “No, don’t hurt them. Please. Ryan, stop.” Stiles’ brow furrowed, biting at his lip. Were you reliving something from your past? “Stop it. Stop it. STOP IT!”

Stiles was shocked when you fought against his hold more, his arms straining to keep you down. He licked at his lips, scanning your form. “Please don’t hate me,” he whispered before he leant down, placing his lips on yours. Your body stilled almost instantly, a stream of electricity flowing through both your bodies. His lips moved against yours softly till your eyes finally opened, staring up at him with blurry, tearful eyes.

“Stiles?” You asked when he backed away, panting slightly. He smiled slightly, though it disappeared when you placed a fierce slap to his cheek, succeeding in knocking him from the bed. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Ow! God, did you have to smack me that hard?” he grumbled, sitting up on the hard floor, rubbing his cheek. “Fuck, that hurt. Why do girls always slap me?”

“Well, when you are kissing them in their sleep, what do you expect?!”

“I wasn’t-“ he started, groaning to himself. “I just got back with dinner and you were having a nightmare! You wouldn’t wake up!”

“So, you kissed me?” You asked, feeling your face heating up.

“It calmed you down. You kept muttering about Ryan doing something. About him hurting someone…” he trailed off, his pupils dilating to focus on your downcast gaze, your eye wide with shock. “What did he do?”

“I can’t…”

“Y/N, I’m not going to judge you and I swear this will not affect our deal. No strings attached. I made a deal that you would help with no strings attached. I am not looking to fix you for whatever shit he pulled on you. But if you know something about him, maybe what he did in your past is why they are being targeted now,” he said, crawling to the edge of the bed, cautiously staring at you. “Please, tell me what happened.”

“You know, I thought about that actually. I’ve thought that for a while actually. Since you showed me the symbol that the killer leaves on all their bodies,” You told him, keeping your eyes on your hands in your lap. “It’s probably related.”

“So, you’ll share what you know?” he asked quietly.

“On one condition,” you mumbled, Stiles perking up at the noise. “We eat that Chinese you brought while I tell you about him. I’m famished.” Stiles grinned, jumping from the floor and holding his hand out to you. You cracked the slightest smile at the gesture, letting him help you from the bed and towards the living room where the food sat. You couldn’t shake one simple thought from your head with each step you took though.

The kiss he gave you made you feel alive.

Stiles sat himself on the couch, instantly digging into the cheap, white take-out carton of chow mien. You giggled to yourself, sitting cross-legged next to him and grabbing a carton of orange chicken, chewing on it slowly. You saw him glance at you occasionally, not wanting to pressure you into speaking.

“You were right you know,” you said, biting into the tasty breaded meat. He cocked his head to the side, question your statement. “I’m a lynx. Well, werelynx. Naturally, the lynx is solitary. But we are human as well. We don’t like to interact with people, but naturally, we desire some interaction outside of our tiny families. That’s when I met Ryan. He was… he was my everything.”

“You dated,” he uttered, slurping on his noodles. “Am I right?”

“It’s not really a surprise that you are an FBI agent, Stilinski,” you laughed, Stiles’ heart swelling at the sound. “We did date. For like, four or five years. My parents weren’t keen on our relationship, seeing as he was a werewolf. And his family didn’t have the cleanest record. They didn’t hurt anyone here but they migrated I guess you could say…”

“They left and hunted outside of your home?” He asked.

“Essentially, yes. They didn’t want to hurt anyone where so whenever they felt that they weren’t going to be able to control themselves on full moons, they left and attacked other small towns in neighboring states. I know it’s not the greatest still, but they didn’t want to harm their home. They wanted to protect everyone here.”

“But they attacked a town and someone found out and came after them?” He deducted, picking up carton of sweet and sour chicken. Your leg reached out, kicking him in the side. He let out a grunt, slightly choking on the chicken he was biting.

“Stop being a smarty, you stupid government agent person. I might have to kick your ass,” you whined at him. “Because yes, that’s what happened. A man named Seth had lost his family to them. Apparently, he had seen Ryan and his family completely tearing them to shreds from his tool shed. How the pack didn’t sniff him out, I don’t know. But Seth followed them back and decided he wanted revenge.”

“So, what happened?” Stiles asked, completely and deadly serious for once. It kind of scared you how serious he was about this.

“Seth killed my family instead,” you said shortly, Stiles frowning sadly at your words. “He found Ryan, cornered him with a shotgun to the head. Ryan pleaded apparently, apologizing and saying they would never do it again.” You paused, playing with the orange chicken in the cheap box in your hand. “And offered up my family as collateral. As retribution for what had happened. Ryan took me out that day and Seth killed my parents and little brother. When I returned home and found them, I went to Ryan because he had insisted on taking me out and I knew why. He didn’t want me hurt but he didn’t care about them. I haven’t talked to him since I broke his jaw.”

“Y/N…” Stiles tried to say, putting his food on the table.

“Please don’t say you’re sorry. That’s what everyone always says.” You stopped talking, wiping the tears on the long-sleeved shirt you were wearing. “That’s when I decided no more…”

“You decided you didn’t want to be close to anyone again,” Stiles finished for you. “You were hurt because you lost your family. You were hurt because you were betrayed. You didn’t want to feel that again, right?” You nodded, placing the carton down. Stiles turned his body to face yours, mimicking your position. His hands held yours gently, rubbing soft circles on the tops of them. “I won’t say I’m sorry. I know how it feels to lose family. To lose friends even. I know the pain. But you shouldn’t shut everyone out.”

“It’s just easier that way,” you mumbled.

Stiles smiled sadly, scooting closer on the couch so he could wrap his arms around you in a hug, letting the tears spill onto his partially unbuttoned shirt. His fingers rubbed your back soothingly, no words coming from his mouth. The silence was comforting though, not awkward by any means. For once in a long time, you didn’t feel alone. And you liked that feeling.

Stiles placed a kiss to your hairline, letting his face nuzzle into your hair. “It’ll be alright. If Seth is back, we will stop him. There must be a reason he is here. And if it’s not him, we will figure out why that guy is here.” He kissed your forehead against, hugging you close. The spot his lips were burned into your skin, a smile gracing your lips at the comforting feeling and the warmth he gave off.

“Right,” you told him, looking up at him. His eyes locked on yours, a glisten of hope and desire passing through his honey orbs. You leaned up, pecking him on the lips softly, your lips close to his when you pulled away. “Thank you, Stilinski. You’re not so bad you know.”

He licked at his lips slightly, his tongue swiping at yours as he did. He wanted to lean in for more, his body craved more. But he hesitated, unsure how you would react. You didn’t want this relationship with him and no matter how much he himself desired it and was willing to fight for it, he pulled away. He hated to say it but he was afraid of the reject he was sure he would get. He recalled the rejection from Malia when they broke up and the rejection from Lydia when she had decided to date Parrish over him, even after she helped rescue him from the Ghost Riders and they shared such an intimate moment in the locker room.

“You’re not too bad yourself. Now, shall we finish eating and get back to work? The sooner we stop this guy, the sooner I’m out of your hair, right?” Stiles missed the sad look pass over your face when he turned back to the food. You grabbed another box at random, opening it to the steamed rice.

“Right…”

You laid on your couch, deep in thought a few days later. It hurt to admit you were falling for this crazy human known as Stiles Stilinski. You felt like you were betraying yourself and the feelings you had fought to lock away. You feared being hurt again. It hurt enough when the man you thought and claimed to love so much betrayed you and killed off your family. It hurt even more when he left you standing there, his lame apology replaying in your head.

“I had to protect my family, Y/N!” He had screamed in your face, no sign of remorse evident anywhere. “They are my pack and they mean more to me than you do. You were nothing to me but a good in with the only other supernatural family in this spick of a town.”

“But Ryan. I love you so much,” you had tried to tell him, but his face remained stoic.

“Well, I don’t love you. So, do me a favor and leave us alone before something else happens. I care about you and don’t want to see you hurt. But I don’t want you around us anymore. Nothing good will come from it.”

You told yourself that he was protecting you and would come back. But he never did. If you passed him in town on food runs, he turned the other way, not even acknowledging your attempting to apologize for the disaster your life had become. You had given him everything only for him to betray your trust.  

Now, Stiles waltzed into your life and you were feeling complete once again. And you were scared. You didn’t want to get attached, especially knowing that he was only here because of this case he was working on. The moment they find the killer, he would be gone, leaving you all alone again. You didn’t want to get close, but at the same time, you wanted to.

Part of you regretted the bits of time you had spent with him since telling him about Ryan that night over his lame Chinese take-out. You often found yourselves sitting closer than normal on the couch or in your bed when it decided to rain outside and there was a chill in the air. You both shared details of your lives that you hadn’t shared with anyone, even Ryan when you were with him. He never judged you for anything he was told and he never pried when you didn’t want to go into details on some things. But he was always willing to listen, just as you listened to him. You loved hearing about the things he had been through and the wacky town of Beacon Hills he called home.

Every word that came out of his mouth made you fall for the chocolate-haired male more and more.

You were snapped from your thoughts when the door was kicked open and Stiles rolled on, literally. You sat up, watching him groan on your floor. “You tripped, didn’t you?”

“I swear I was passed this clumsy stage of my life. Otherwise they would not let me walk around with a loaded gun,” he grumbled, rolling over onto his stomach and pushing himself up. He rounded the side of the couch, perching himself on the edge and staring deep into your eyes. “So, I think I have a plan on how to catch this guy. But I need to know something.”

“Anything,” you found yourself saying, biting your lip when you realized you had. Stiles grinned a toothy grin, opening the messenger bag that he brought over. He dug out a manila envelope, handing it to you. You looked at him confused, his head just nodding at the folder. You found inside a collage of photos and a list of names. “I don’t get it, Stiles.”

“This is a list of everyone we have found that has been killed by this guy. What I’m thinking is… well, is there anyone left in Ryan’s pack that we can use to lure this guy out?” He asked. You scanned the list of names, biting at your lip.

“Unless they added new members since I last spoke to them, no,” you told him sadly. Stiles frowned, sighing. You glanced over the photos, staring at the circles carved into the backs of every dead wolf. “Hey Stiles. The symbol that the killer carved into their backs. Do you know what it means?”

He looked at you, taking the picture of your hand. “I guess so. I texted a picture of the symbol to Deaton but he said it’s not Celtic.”

“That’s the druid emissary, right?” You questioned, watching him nod. “Well, why use this particular symbol? It’s a moon glyph.”

“A what?”

“Moon glyph. It’s something my mom used to research. The same goes for the pack tattoo they used. It’s a moon glyph for the full moon. She suggested they use it. Let me…” you jumped off the couch, skimming over the spines of the books on the shelf in the corner. You pulled off an old, dusty blue book, flipping through the fragile papers. “Aha. I knew I had seen it before.” You curled up next to him on the floor, Stiles fighting the blush that threatened to arise. You pointed at the symbol in the book, looking at him. “See. It’s a sign of death.”

“So, they wanted someone to know they were here to kill them all?” He asked.

“Death to the pack? Or…” You swallowed thickly, closing the book. “Death to the supernatural?”

Stiles rubbed his chin, his brow knit together in thought. “Maybe it has to deal with Monroe…” You remember him telling you about the war with some high school counselor named Monroe while he was beginning his internship. She was building an army to fight the supernatural and his friend, Scott, had yet to find her and stop her after all this time. “Maybe she got to Seth and he wanted to end what he started?”

“Who knows…” You said aloud. You both sat in silence thereafter, trying to think of what to do. “Would you kill me if I said maybe I could be bait?”

“No. Absolutely not,” he replied quickly, standing from his seated position. “I am not risking your life to catch this guy. And we don’t even know if he is after you. For all we know, he was here for that pack and that was it. He could be long gone by now.”

“What other options do we have, Stiles? I know where they lived, you don’t. At least let me go and see what I can find there. Maybe if he sees me around there, he will think he needs to kill me too. Then you and your team can catch him.” Stiles stayed silent, his eyes glued on the wall. “What other option do we have?”

He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up. “But I can’t lose you…”

“Stiles, remember. We had a deal-“

“Yeah, well fuck the deal!” He screamed suddenly, turning back to you. “Excuse me for developing feelings for you over this week and a half. Excuse me for not wanting to see you get hurt. Excuse me for caring about you when you don’t want to be cared for!” He took a deep breath, tugging at his hair. “I promised you that I would keep this professional and it’s so damn hard right now. Because I want to see you happy. I want to rebuild your broken heart because you don’t deserve to be unhappy. I want to love you because you deserve to be loved.”

“Stiles,” you started, swallowing thickly, “why?”

“I don’t know.”

“We had a deal, Stiles. We agreed that there would be no strings attached on this.”

“I know.”

“We agreed that you would not develop feelings. That I would not develop feelings. That we would not get close to each other.”

“I know.”

“We agreed that I wanted nothing in return for my help. No money, no relationship, no you trying to mend my forever broken soul!”

“I know, Y/N!”

“Then tell me why!” You cried at him. You didn’t realize with each statement, you had stepped towards him until you were slapping him across the face. He didn’t move an inch, his face hard. “What happened to the no strings attached concept? What changed? Why did you decide that I was worth your time? What happened to our deal, huh?!”

“That was before I started falling in love with you, ok?!” He yelled back. You were taken aback by his outburst, shrinking a bit under his gaze. “I didn’t mean to, ok? I tried. I tried so hard because I didn’t want you to run away. I needed the help on this case. But the more time I spent with you, the more I wanted to know who you were and why you were so closed off. Then you had the nightmare and I kissed you to calm you down… I felt the fireworks from that kiss. I don’t know if you did too, but it was the most magical thing in the world. And I’ve kissed like… four other girls, ok? I’ve never felt that before. Then you started to finally pen up and… God, you are just so amazing. And I don’t feel bad for the things you’ve been through. I feel bad that you had no one to care for you when it happened. You don’t deserve to be alone. You don’t need to be alone.”

The tears leaked freely down your cheeks hearing his words. You pounded weakly on his chest, his arms wrapping around you no matter how much you fought against him. “Why did you make me care about you?” You asked weakly.

“I didn’t mean to…”

“But you did,” you cried, cuddling into his chest. “I hate you. I hate you so much.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

“Why did you make me love you?”

“I know-“ he stopped short, looking down at you. “Wait. Back up. What? You love me?”

“You’re clumsy and a fool. But you’re smart and caring. You stayed when no one else stayed. You want to be with me, but why? Because you are loving and you want to help. You didn’t feel sorry for me. You just… you were there for me when I needed you. No matter how hard I pushed you away, you came back stronger, fiercer. You didn’t run away because I was a bitch.”

“Because I want to be here for you,” he said calmly, wiping the tears from your cheeks.  

“Fine. Be here for me. Kiss me and show me you are fucking worth it,” you challenged, Stiles smiling.

“Oh baby, with pleasure.”

He didn’t hesitate, leaning in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. You felt the jolt of electricity like last time, his lips molding against yours perfectly. His lips were hot against yours, but he definitely knew how to kiss a girl. His mouth generally overtook yours in time, his hands holding your cheeks, his tongue passing over your lips as if he were asking for entrance. Your nails dug into his back, hugging him closer. Your lips parted, Stiles smiling into the kiss, his tongue slipping between your cheeks to massage yours.

The kiss was blissful, Stiles pulling away occasionally to breath before delving in for another kiss, his tongue finding its way back inside your mouth easily. The sound of your kisses filled the silent room, your bodies meshed together without remorse. Your body was on fire and you did not regret it at all. For the first time in forever, you felt you were in the right place.

You pulled away, pecking his lips. He grinned in return, peppering every inch of your face in kisses. Together you stood in each other’s embrace, just enjoying the time together. Until you broke the silence. “We need to stop him, Stiles. You need to let me help.”

“I can’t lose you,” he mumbled into your neck.

“You won’t. I will give you the directions to their pack house. You bring your squad. And we will stop this son of a bitch.” You placed your hand on his cheek, looking up at him. “Please. Do you trust me?”

He bit at his lip, nodding slowly. “With my life.”

“Alright.”

You stood in front of the all too familiar house, glancing around at the surroundings. Nothing had changed. You looked up at the house again, taking a deep breath. “I can do this.” The leaves crunched under your boots as you made your ways to the stairs, taking one creaky step at a time. You knocked on the door, feigning like you were looking for them.

When you received no response, for obvious reasons to you, you twisted the handle and stepped inside. “Ryan? Josh? Elizabeth?” you called through the house, ignoring the sickening creaks under your steps. “Is anyone home? I caught the scent of blood and was worried. I wanted to make sure you all were ok. Is anyone home?”

“No one is home,” a voice called from the living room, your eyes narrowing at the sound. It was soft, but he knew you would hear it. You made your way to the room, spotting the man sitting in the lounger in the corner, polishing the shotgun on his lap. A bloodied axe was leaning against the wall next to him. The man’s dark eyes glanced up to meet yours. He was balding slightly, wrinkles all over his face. He wore a black polo and dark jeans, though they did nothing to hide the blood strains everywhere on his clothing. “I don’t remember seeing you with the rest of them. Who are you?”

“Who are you?” You retorted, obvious sass in your tone. “Why are you here?”

“Finishing what I set out to do originally,” he grumbled in a low tone.

“So, I was right. Your name is Seth Cheney, am I right?” His eyes narrowed on your form, his hand no longer polishing his shotgun. “You killed my family the first time around you know. Ryan pleaded to spare his family in exchange for mine.”

“Then how did you escape me, pretty girl?” He asked, giving you a disgusting grin.

“Pity from the source I guess. Ryan didn’t want me hurt when he sent you to slaughter my family and send my world crashing down.” You shuffled on your feet, glancing around the room nonchalantly. “Why come back anyway? Was it someone named Monroe that set you up to this?”

“She wants all the supernatural creatures gone. You are unnatural creatures and you will end the human race as we know it. Nothing good comes from your kind.”

“You know nothing about us,” you growled, your eyes flashing red at him. “We aren’t murderers you know. We are human too!”

“There is nothing human about you!” He shouted, standing from his seat and cocking the shotgun. “You all deserve to die. Like your pitiful family. Like the pitiful “pack” that couldn’t last against me. They cost me my family. What good comes from your kind?!”

“We aren’t all bad, jackass! We just want a normal life you know!”

“You deserve no such thing,” he huffed, pointing the gun in your direction. A shot rang out, your ear drums shaking from the sound.

In that instance, before the bullet could hit you, you took off running, bolting for the front door. You heard the faint roar of anger from the man behind you and the thundering sound of his boot as he chased after you. You spared a glance at him, seeing he had forgone the shotgun for the bloodied axe. And even with your supernatural speed, he was gaining on you. You had to dodge a few of his swipes, kicking him back until you got to the front door. He tackled you from behind, your bodies collapsing out the door and down the steps, landing in a heap in the dead leaves. His hands locked around your neck, his eyes flaring with anger.

“This’ll end you and your kind. Just like you deserve! You can join the rest of those pitiful creatures that I hacked up!” He raged, his grip tightening. You gasped for air, praying to a miracle. For a second, you regretted your decision, regretting your trust in the man you grew to love. Maybe it had all been a sick joke to him and he never meant any of it.

“Freeze!” Stiles’ voice broke the crisp air. Seth’s head shot up to look at him, Seeing the gun Stiles was pointing at him, his fellow FBI agents behind him and all wearing their FBI vests. “Seth Cheney, you are under arrest for the murders of over twenty people and the attempted murder of Y/N L/N. Turn yourself in and no one has to get hurt.”

Seth sneered, standing from the ground, still holding your throat in his hands. “She deserves to die. You all should be supporting Monroe and her efforts to create peace! These creatures will only bring us destruction!”

Stiles shook his head. “You’re wrong,” he stated calmly. “They aren’t our destruction. They did nothing wrong. Why should they be punished for something they didn’t choose?” Your heart fluttered slightly, remembering when you told him the same thing the day you met him. “Now, I ask you one more time. Turn yourself in.”

Seth growled, throwing you aside and grabbing the bloodied axe from the ground, rushing at Stiles. You weren’t sure if it was suicide or an actual attempt to attack an FBI agent, but he was attacking a ranged agent with an axe. It was no surprise when Stiles fired at him. Two simple shorts, one in the arm to make him drop the weapon in his hand and one in the leg, causing the older man to collapse in pain, blood spilling from his leg. A few of the agents behind Stiles ran forward, handcuffing the crazed maniac and dragged him away to a car.

Stiles put his gun away, rushing to your side. He helped you up, rubbing your arm with one hand and tracing the hand prints on your neck. “You ok?”

“Never better,” you said, hugging him. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Anything for you,” he laughed, kissing your forehead. He led you back towards the cars, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. “I told you we would get him.”

“Excuse me? I gave you the plan, asshole,” you laughed. He grinned, shaking his head. “Also, who knew you were actually a really good shot? Like, damn, babe.”

“I told you they wouldn’t give me a loaded gun in my clumsy stage,” he joked. “Maybe being around you just brings out that clumsiness again. What am I going to do around you?”

His words broke you. He was leaving soon, wasn’t he? How was he supposed to be around you? You frowned at the realization and stopped walking, making Stiles look at you confused. “Your case is done now, Stiles…”

“Yeah. Your point?”

“You’re going to have to leave now,” you mumbled. This was exactly your fear and why you didn’t want to get close. He wormed his way into your heart and now he would leave and never return. You would be alone again.”

“I was going to talk to you about that,” he muttered, taking your hand and entwining his fingers with yours. “Will you come back to the hotel in town with me so I can call Scott to tell him about Monroe and we can discuss this? I don’t leave until tomorrow anyway. We have time. I’m not ready to leave you.”

You hesitated, gnawing on your bottom lip. Part of you wanted to run and leave him now, afraid that if you returned to his hotel, you would wake up alone and broken because he left you forever. You could leave him now and regret less than tomorrow. But the other part never wanted to leave him, not ready to feel the broken heart again. You wanted to be in his arms as much as possible.

You chose the latter.

“Alright,” you told him, letting him drag you to the SUV he had driven. “Let’s go.”

The drive was silent, the hotel room even worse. You listened to Stiles on the phone with Scott, watching him stripping from his FBI vest and black button up, leaving him in a black undershirt and his jeans. Your body grew warmer watching him, your legs rubbing together unconsciously to relieve the pressure between them. Stiles paid little attention to your actions, tossing his stuff that was scattered around the room into his suitcase, talking heatedly with Scott on the phone.

He finally groaned loudly, hanging up and dropping the phone on the nightstand. “Bad phone call?” You asked.

“Scott being Scott. I will have to let him know more when I can get more information from Seth. Hopefully we can get some good information on Monroe’s whereabouts,” he told you, unbuttoning his jeans and kicking them off, leaving him in his shirt and boxers. Your face flushed a bright red, covering it with your hands.

“Stiles!”

“What?” he asked, glancing from your face to his lower half. He obviously hadn’t thought about you being in the room when he stripped. “Shit. I’m so sorry. Let me find my sweats.”

You peaked through your fingers, spotting the small tent in his boxers as he rushed to find his sweatpants. The sight caused your body to heat up even more, making you completely aware of the ache in your core. You made the call to put yourself on the line, crawling forward on the bed and grabbing at the back of his shirt. He looked down at you, his lips parting in surprise.

“If this is our last night together, let’s make it count,” you told him. His eyes evidently widened, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the right words for you.

“Y/N, who said this is our last night together?” He asked.

“You’re returning home tomorrow, Stiles. It’s obvious. So, please,” you pleaded.

“Babe, we haven’t talked-“ he was cut off, your body leaning up to place a kiss to his lips. He let out a surprised noise, a mixture of shock and a moan. But he returned the kiss with an equal amount of vigor. His lips quickly overtook yours, his tongue passing through the small crevice of your lips to invade your mouth, tracing every spot with the tip. Your fingers twisted in his shirt, pulling him onto the bed until you were resting against the pillows, Stiles hovering over you with his lips attached to yours. You weren’t bothered by the amount of open-mouth kisses he placed to your lips, or the fact that your mind went blank as his lips trailed down your jaw to your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. You were enjoying every second of him against you.

His fingers played with the bottom of your shirt, tugging at it occasionally. You giggled into his kiss, pushing him away so you could sit up, allowing him to tug the intrusive material over your head, leaving it forgotten on the floor by the bed. His shirt follow suit, the black fabric finding its way to the carpet in a similar manner as yours had. Your fingers traced his torso, your eyes wandering his physique. His toned pecs, the dark patch of hair that was splayed across them. The biceps and forearms, veins protruding along them, the muscles flexing with every move he made. He was faint lines of a six pack, though they were hidden under the happy trail of hair that disappeared into his boxers. He had broad, muscular shoulders, his collar bone looking deliciously kissable.

“You’re so handsome, Stiles,” you whispered.

“And you’re beautiful,” he replied, glancing down at you. He took in the look of your plump breasts hidden under the lacy blue bra, noting the way your nipples poked through the material. But he also admired your face, falling more in love with your eyes and smile and the way your cheeks flushed as he complimented you. “You’re so perfect to me.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back down to the bed, your lips on his. He smiled, reaching under you to undo the hook on your bra, your back arching enough to allow him to complete the task. The straps slipped down your arms naturally when it unhooked, Stiles using one hand to toss it behind him, not paying attention to where it landed. His lips trailed down your chest to your breast, lacing a kiss to one of your nipples. Your moan hit his ears, encouraging him to continue.

His lips kissed at your nipple continuously, taking the bud between his lips every time and tugging at it when he pulled away from it. His tongue would dart out to lap at the hardened peak, listening to your squeals and mewls happily. He sucked dark red marks along the sides of your breasts and between them when he swapped to the other, untended one, repeating the same process.

Your hands fiddled with the elastic on his boxers as he sucked at your breasts, his own hands popping the button on your jeans and inching them down your legs. Your struggled under his weight to help kick them off, his feet kicking them off the bed once they were off your ankles. His lips broke from your chest with a distinct pop, trailing down your stomach to your matching blue panties. Your fingers shot to his hair, digging through his locks when you felt the silky material slide down your legs, not paying attention to what he did with them.

His hands pushed your legs apart, his hot breath fanning over your wet pussy. You moaned his name, your back arching off the bed the second his tongue ran over your folds. The tip prodded at your entrance, dipping into your pussy after a few passes. You moaned louder at the feeling, the heat flowing through your body. His tongue delved in deep, swirling in circles, tapping at your sensitive spots and along your walls. His own moan against your skin vibrated through your entire core and up your spine, tightening the knot that was forming inside you.

His tongue left your aching pussy dry, figuratively, as it slid up to your clit, flicking the swollen bud teasingly. You weren’t vacant for long, two of his fingers slithering their way inside to replace his absent tongue. You squirmed under his touch, his fingers thrusting into you at a quick but steady pace. The ends curled into your g-spot, brushing it every time his fingers disappeared inside you.

“Stiles,” you mewled loudly, his lips curling into a smile against your clit. His lips wrapped around it in response, nibbling at it, letting his fingers speed up. The tips tapped harder at your sweet spot, the feeling of him rubbing at your walls sending you into an abyss of ecstasy. “Please, I need you,” you uttered barely loud enough for him to hear.

He pulled away from you, his fingers leaving you with an empty void inside, the deep desire to be filled again. He licked his fingers clean, your eyes focused on the way his tongue passed over the digits. Your teeth tugged your lip between them, gnawing at it as you watched him. When he was finally done, he moved up to kiss you, his lips tasting faintly of your juices.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked quietly. You felt his lips move against your as he spoke and you could barely process the words he actually said. You were filled with an overwhelming need for him, a deep desire to feel whole.

“Yes,” you mumbled, leaning up to kiss him more. He smiled, rolling off you before he could get fully invested in the kiss. He dropped his boxers, leaving them in a pile on the floor, as he grabbed his jeans and fishing out his wallet. He pulled a condom from a pocket in his wallet, tearing the packet open as he waddled back to the bed. His hand wrapped around his erect cock, pumping it a few times to make sure he was ready. Your eyes were glued to the hard shaft he sported, your mouth falling open. “Holy shit.”

“What?” he asked stupidly, not understanding what you were gawking at. “Is it that bad?”

“Bad? Bad?? BAD??? Stiles! Have you seen yourself?!” You yelled at him. His face was even more confused as he looked down at himself in his hand, the condom between the fingers in his other hand.

“Well, yeah? I masturbate like… three times a day? But I don’t get what that has to do with anything right now.”

“Seriously, Stiles?” you deadpanned, motioning him closer with a curl of the finger. He followed your instruction, taking a couple hastened steps forward until he was directly in front of you. You were sat up on the bed by the time he got there, you hand reaching out to take his cock between your fingers in place of his. You stroked him a couple times, Stiles dragging out a moan at the intense feeling. “Look at you, babe.”

“I… have a dick?” He asked, legitimately confused.

“Are you really that stupid, Stilinski?” You glared up at him, pumping him a few more times. “You’re hung, boy. You’re well-endowed. You’re extra-large. You’re huge!” He blinked a few times. “Oh my god. You have a huge cock, dumbass!”

“Oh. OH. That’s what you meant?” He questioned, looking down at his cock in your hands. “I don’t know, is it really that much bigger than others? I always thought I was average…”

“Seriously? Really, Stiles?” You sassed him. “You are so far from average. You are not even above average. You’re like… god-tier. I had sex with Ryan and he never was close to this size.” You looked at his cock, stroking it a few times. “How is this going to fit inside me anyway?”

“Well, guess we will have to find out,” he mumbled huskily, rubbing at his chin. His cock twitched in your hands, surprising you with the sudden action, bits of precum leaking out of the tip. You hummed at his response, albeit you never expected an answer in the first place, leaning forward to swipe your tongue over his slit, tasting his salty sweet juice on your taste buds. “Oh, holy shit.”

You smiled against him, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around it and rubbing it along the sensitive underside. Your hand pumped him quickly, your grip firm but not uncomfortable. Your free hand reached up to fondle his balls, all while Stiles let out loud moans, your name dripping from his tongue like it was the only thing he knew. Your hollow cheeks, even around just his head, made the feeling tighter, Stiles’ mind going blank at the feeling. He only came back to reality when he felt your mouth vanish around him, your tongue tracing along the pulsing vein along his length.

“Baby,” he whined, his free hand tangling in your hair and pulling you from his cock. “I need to be inside you. I can’t wait anymore. I don’t want to cum in your mouth. I want to cum inside you,” he paused, looking at the condom between his fingers. “Well, inside the condom, but while I’m inside you.”

“I understand what you meant, Stilinski,” you joked, taking the condom from him. You slid the lubricated rubbed down his length, laying back on the bed with your legs spread, your fingers playing with your wet entrance. “So, what are you waiting for?”

Stiles’ eyes darkened, the lust evident behind them. He was between your legs in the blink of an eye, his cock rubbing between your folds without any assistance. You mewled, your arms winding around his neck and tugging him down for a kiss. He eagerly returned it, the kiss distracting you both as he slid inside you in one swift motion. Your moan was drowned out, disappearing inside his throat, his groan mirroring the same. He didn’t give you long to adjust or accustom to his large size. He was thrusting into you slowly from the get go, flooding your senses with overwhelming amounts of arousal.

He broke the kiss, his eyes locking with yours and never moving from them, his thrusts speeding up steadily. You moaned loudly at him, taking in the size of him and how he filled you to the brim. You had never felt that full and that good and his thrusts seemed to complete the package. His girth spread you wide, pressing into your walls every time he slid back inside you. His length allowed him to reach your depths, tapping your cervix without intention and hitting with g-spot easily with every quick thrust forward. His movements were fast and fluid, rubbing your sensitive spots continuously.

His breath came out in pants, your nails raking down his back when he sped up even more. Your back was pressed into mattress, his hips bucking into yours relentlessly. The sound of sweaty skin slapping against each other filled the room, only drowned out by the growing volume of your moans and pants. He pounded into you restlessly, his cock sliding in and out of you without remorse. And you loved every second of it. The knot inside you was tightening with no control over it and you felt ready to burst any second.

Stiles stilled inside you, your eyes snapping open to look at him. You weren’t even sure when they had closed to be honest. He smiled down at you, pecking your lips. “I love you,” he mumbled, watching the smile on your face form. “Wrap your arms around my neck tight and don’t let go. I want to try something.”

You nodded at him, doing as he said. Your body was lifted from the mattress, finding your bare chest pressed to his instead. He leaned back on the bed, his legs adjusting until they were straight out under you, his knees bent slightly. Your legs were on either side of him, knees pressed to the bed, your arms tightening around his neck. Your chests heaved simultaneously with each other.

Stiles smiled, pecking your lips. “Yeah, just like that,” he mumbled, his hands finding their way to your waist and holding it tight. “Now, move with me, baby. Show me your moves.”

You hummed, grinning against his lips. “I can do that,” you told him, locking your lips with his. With your lips meshed together, your fingers tangling in the hairs along the back of his neck and his fingers digging into your waist, bound to leave bruises that would heal by morning, your hips moved together in harmony. His hips thrust up into you and yours moved down onto him, clashing in a steady rhythm. Any noises you tried to release were lost, the only sound being heard anywhere in the room being your slapping of your bodies.

You broke the kiss to breath, your eyes screwing shut and your head burying in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “Baby,” you mewled, nibbling at his skin. “I’m so close.”

“Good,” he whispered into your ear, leaning back on one hand for better leverage. His thrusts upwards sped up, your body jolting with the impact. He vigorously pounded into you, finding your most sensitive sweet spot every time he did. You mewled happily at him, feeling the covered tip hitting your core, your walls clenching around him more and more as he did. He panted loudly, his head falling back slightly at the tight feeling around him. The more he thrust, the tighter it got. The more he moved, the more your body shook against him. The more his stomach tightened and his leg muscles clenched, the more your own knot was twisting in various directions and your arms tightened around his neck, pushing you closer to him.

It snapped in a single second. He was thrusting wildly, his movements growing sloppier by the second. Your eyesight spotted in your pleasure, one final moan from your mouth spilling out the same time your fluids spilled out around his cock. Your walls contracted around him, hugging the length of his shaft close to you, never wanting to let go. The feeling of your pussy clinging to him sent his senses over the edge, his hips jerking unevenly as he spilled inside you. His cock twitched, sputtering as streams of his hot, white cum spilled into the condom, filling the gap at the tip. His thrusts eased, careful not to rip the condom he wore as he released every drop he had inside him. You leaned up, kissing his lips as he rode you through your highs, his lips eagerly returning the kiss.

His forehead rested on your when he pulled away, listening to your uneven breaths. He smiled to himself, pecking your swollen lips softly and lifting you off of him, rolling off the bed to clean himself off and discard the used condom. You watched his every move, cuddling a pillow as you waited for his return. He smiled at the sight when he emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, practically ripping the pillow from your grasp and replacing it with his body. The blanket was tugged over your bodies, his arm under your body, moving you so you were resting on his chest. His heart was beating unevenly and wildly, but it calmed you regardless.

You laid in silence, Stiles’ fingers running through your hair. But your mind stayed on the thought of him leaving, your heart breaking the more you thought of it. You sighed, burying your head in his chest, Stiles sending you a look you didn’t see. “Babe?”

“I love you too, you know,” you mumbled against his skin. “I’m going to miss you, Stiles,” you finally whispered after a few minutes, surprised that Stiles even heard you.

“Well, we haven’t talked about that. You kind of jumped my bones before we could,” he chuckled dryly, though you were obviously unimpressed with his attempt at humor. “Let’s discuss that now then.”

“What’s there to talk about. You’re leaving me.”

“Well, you know,” he started, tilting your chin up so you could look into his sparkling honey eyes. “In Quantico, I have this big ole apartment all to myself. I could really use someone to share it with. Someone say… my girlfriend?” he questioned. You blinked at him, trying to process his words.

“Wait… what?” You asked. Stiles laughed at your confusion, telling himself how adorable it was.

“I want you to come back with me. Come live with me.” He paused, licking at his lips. “Come back and be my girlfriend.”

“Stiles,” you started, tears forming in your eyes.

“I told you before. I’m sorry I broke our deal. But, I loved spending time with you. I know we said nothing beyond this. No strings attached. And I would be ripping you from your home for you to come back to Virginia with me. But I’m not ready to leave you. I want to show you that you are loved. I want to show you that you don’t need to be alone. I want to fix your broken heart. Not because I feel bad, but because I care about you and want to see you happy. You deserve everything and I want to give that to you.”

“Are you really willing to date a supernatural creature such as myself?”

“You wouldn’t be the first supernatural girl in my life. But hopefully, you will be the last. My one and only,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you passionately. You smiled against his lips, pulling away just enough to talk.

“Then to hell with the no strings attached concept. I’m glad you broke our deal. Now, you aren’t getting rid of me.” You pecked his lips again, rolling over to straddle his hips. “Now, round two?”

“Fuck,” he grumbled, his cock hardening under your wet core. “Who needed to sleep tonight, right? We can sleep on the plane back to Virginia tomorrow.”

“Exactly,” you grinned, kissing him fully. He grinned, reaching over to the lamp by the bed and switching the light off, leaving only the sounds of your moans to fill the room the rest of the night.

Tags: @ellie-bee242

[multifandom-images]

Little Wolf // Teen Wolf x Reader Part One

NOT EDITED

(Y/n) = Your Name (H/c) = Hair Color (C/n) = Crush name

Enjoy and Vote at the end!;

“Why are we in the woods again?” I asked probably for the hundredth time to my best friend, (C/n) Stilinski before rolling my eyes at the boy who shone the flashlight into my eyes.

“Because there’s a dead body of a girl and I want to find it,” (C/n) told me,“ And besides-” “You just want to show up your brother and say you found the dead body first don’t you?” I looked at him,“ But why do you have to drag me along these trips? Can’t you go by yourself? Are you too… Afraid?”

“Okay first off I’m not afraid,” He started,“ Second I’m always better than Stiles. Finally, you know the saying-” I cut him off,“ I know. Friends who adventure together stay together. But it’s almost midnight and honestly I don’t want to be in the woods. It’s really creepy. Where’s Stiles and Scott anyway?”

“They’re with Isaac, Allison, and Lydia ,” (C/n) nodded,“ But it was weird they were talking about something having to do with the full moon.” “Wow maybe they’re werewolves,” I rolled my eyes at him,“ Let’s go we can look in the morning, when it’s light out.” “No that wouldn’t be cool,” (C/n) whined,“ C'mon we don’t have to be caught and we can solve this case.”

“You know, your curiosity will kill us one day and I wont forgive you,” I shook my head and pulled on his hand,“ C'mon.” I started to walk back and tried to pulling him along but he stood still. “(Y/n) I can finally solve a crime without Stiles bursting into it,” (C/n) pleaded,“ Please.”

“Fine fine. But you’re taking the blame if we get caught,” I frowned as I heard yells of his dad,“ Bingo we got caught.” “I got caught,” (C/n) corrected me before yelling back to his father,“ Dad I’ll be right there.” “What are you doing” I hissed to him. “You’ll be okay,” (C/n) whispered before turning to walk to his dad,“ Just call me when you get home.” I nodded,“ Okay I’ll talk to you later.”

“Where’s (Y/n)?” Sheriff Stilinski asked (C/n). “I don’t know, home probably,” He shrugged his shoulders. “You’re so stupid, coming out here alone,” his dad shook his head,“ Maybe I should make Stiles watch you 24/7.” “Um let’s just go home.”

I rolled my eyes and waited a few minutes before getting up and starting to walk in the direction on my house,“ Stupid (C/n) leaving me out here to die what a stupid guy that’s why I’m his best friend and he’s such a loser.”

I started to walk forwards but froze up as a low growl came out of the bush further into the woods. “Okay (C/n) I know you like pranks but nows not the time,” I walked towards the bush carefully but then stopped,“ No this is what white people do before they get killed in the movies…"  I backed away slowly,” Don’t really feel like dying tonight…“

Before I could move any further I was attacked. The last thing I saw was a flash of red.

When I opened my eyes I was met with a blinding white light. "Where am I,” I sat up and looked around me. I was surrounded by a burnt building,“ The Hale house. Why am I here?” “Because, you are my omega,” A deep voice spoke up. “Derek Hale?” I looked up to see the grouchy wolf,“Why am I with you? Are you going to murder me?!?” “I’m not going to murder you. You’re my omega,” He rolled his eyes at me like I was stupid.

“Isn’t the omega the weakest of the pack?” I asked him, slowly standing up. “Well yeah,” He nodded,“ You are the youngest and weakest of the pack. But I will train you to be strong.” “How- How long was I out for? What do you mean by ‘pack’?” “Well you almost died, you were attacked last night and to save your life I gave you the bite. The bite is a gift,” Derek stated ,“ You were only out for a day, or two.” “(C/n),” I gasped and reached into my pocket, taking out my phone I dialed him and waited for him to pick up. After a few rings he answered. “Where have you been (Y/n)? You’ve been missing for days where did you go?” “Calm down I’m okay. I’m fine,” I whispered into the phone,“ Anyway I’ll just meet you at your house.” “Wait (Y/n)-” I cut him off with a bye and ended the call.

“You can’t tell that Skilinski about the supernatural, Stiles already knows about it,” Derek said to me, obviously annoyed. “Stiles knows? Is he a werewolf?” I asked him quietly. “No thankfully he isn’t. But his friend Scott McCall is,” Derek said,“ So don’t tell Stiles’ brother.” “ First of all his name is (C/n) he’s not just Stiles’ brother. He is my best friend and I tell him everything so he’s bound to find out anyway.” “Don’t- Don’t try to get him involved in this stuff too much,” Derek sighed. I flashed a smile at him,“ No promises!”

“When can I go?” I asked after a moment of silence. “I’ll take you home,” He helped me stand up and guided me to his car. “Bring me to (C/n)’s house I have to go there first,” I commanded him. “Fine,” he nodded, starting the car.

“So I’m going to turn into a bloodthirsty beast once a month and probably hurt someone,” I asked him after a moment of silence. “Well for females it’s twice a month,” Derek started,“ But if you have your anchor you won’t freak out as bad.” “Anchor? What’s that,” I tilted my head as the car stopped in front of the Stilinski household. “An anchor is the person who keeps you human. They could be your boyfriend, girlfriend, best friend, a friend,” Derek muttered,“ They keep you human. Now get out of my car.”

Do you

A) Go to the door and knock Or

B) Hesitate and ask to go home.

Your choice~

[njawaidofficial]

'Walking Dead': Ross Marquand on Major Season 8 Death | Aaron's Boyfriend Eric Dies

https://styleveryday.com/2017/11/06/walking-dead-ross-marquand-on-major-season-8-death-aarons-boyfriend-eric-dies/

'Walking Dead': Ross Marquand on Major Season 8 Death | Aaron's Boyfriend Eric Dies

[Warning: this story incorporates spoilers for season eight, episode three of AMC’s The Strolling Lifeless, “Monsters,” in addition to spoilers from the comics on which the present is predicated.]

The writing was on the wall as lately as final week, and as early as 2013 for followers of the Strolling Lifeless comedian books: the demise of an Alexandrian, one of many two males accountable for saving Rick Grimes (Andrew Lincoln) and the remainder of Staff Household from their time on the open street again in season 5.

That man: Eric Raleigh, performed by Jordan Woods-Robinson. After sustaining a gunshot wound in battle towards the Saviors towards the top of “The Damned,” Eric lastly succumbed to his accidents within the newest installment of the collection, “Monsters.” Within the comics, Eric dies with no warning in any respect, shot within the head within the thick of the gunfight, proper in entrance of his longtime boyfriend Aaron. For its model of the violent tragedy, the Strolling Lifeless TV collection afforded Eric and Ross Marquand’s Aaron an prolonged second by a quiet tree, far sufficient away from the battle for one final goodbye, even when these firmly ultimate phrases went unstated.

Following the firefight with the Saviors, Aaron returns to the tree the place he left Eric, solely to search out that his boyfriend is gone. When he seems to be out into the space, Aaron watches as a zombified Eric wanders off into the forest, too distant and too near different walkers for Aaron to place the reanimated Eric down for good. 

As one of many kindest characters on The Strolling Lifeless, presently and in any other case, it is troubling to suppose that Aaron may very simply slip right into a downward spiral of darkness in mild of Eric’s demise. However for his half, Ross Marquand says Aaron will reply to shedding the love of his life in a means that is true to the spirit of each brave males. Learn on for Marquand’s ideas on saying goodbye to Eric, filming his ultimate scenes with Jordan Woods-Robinson (a member of the legendary Blue Man Group, amongst his many achievements), and extra.

Was this a tough episode for you? It will need to have been emotionally exhausting.

It was. Jordan and I had been actually cognizant of the significance of this relationship, not solely within the storyline but additionally to the LGBTQ group. We wished to do it justice. We wished to present followers a correct sendoff to this beloved character, and likewise inform this story correctly. There have been plenty of back-and-forth cellphone calls between us to attempt to get the proper tone down. I really like that we discovered moments of levity all through his demise scene. You do not count on that. It is not a typical means of coping with demise. There’s an acceptance Eric has as he is dying. It is a actually lovely second between the 2 of them.

Coming into the season, in case you’re a fan of the comics, you are more than likely anticipating Eric to die in “All-Out Battle.” Had been you conscious it was arising — and on a normal be aware, what’s your stance in relation to studying the comics and understanding what’s in retailer for Aaron?

I used to learn the comics, up till the half the place Glenn (Steven Yeun) bought killed. That is the place I finished. As a fan of the present for years, and as a fan of the comedian as soon as I bought the half, I noticed I used to be studying an excessive amount of about what was going to occur within the storyline. For me as an actor, it was vital to protect among the surprises that had been coming, and never speculate as to the place the story’s going. I believe it is actually vital to enter every script as recent as you presumably can. When you have preconceived notions of the place the characters and the storyline may go, it would have an effect on the way you play the character within the current time. As , we have seen a number of occasions all through the present’s historical past the place the comics lay out the muse for the way the present’s going to go, after which the present goes one other means fully.

Was Eric’s demise a shock to you and Jordan, then?

I had heard it was coming, solely since you go to sufficient conventions and meet sufficient individuals, and you finally hear, “You already know Eric dies, proper?” And I am like, “No, I do not wish to learn about that!” However within the comics, Eric simply will get shot within the head. [Showrunner Scott M. Gimple] actually insisted on giving him an vital hero’s demise, as a result of Eric had by no means been one to be a pacifist. The truth is, I’d say him and Aaron had been most likely the only real line of protection for Alexandria earlier than Rick and the gang confirmed up. They had been fighters. Eric’s huge downside with preventing the Saviors final season is that he thought the percentages had been stacked completely towards us and there isn’t any means we may win. I believe plenty of followers noticed that as cowardice. I believe the alternative is true. I believe Eric’s all the time been an ideal fighter. That was evidenced in final week’s episode. He went on this Rambo killing spree and took out 10 Saviors in a row, at a vital level within the battle the place it regarded like they may get the higher hand on us, and he saved the day. I really like that it was a heroic and significant demise, versus simply getting shot within the head like within the comics.

What do you keep in mind about enjoying the ultimate scene between Aaron and Eric, away from the battle?

I liked that. It is clearly a bittersweet second for the characters, but additionally for us as actors. Jordan is a beautiful man. I’ve actually loved working with him during the last two years. We have turn out to be buddies. I’ve frolicked together with his household. It was a second of realization as we had been doing the sequence: “Can we get yet another take? Can we get yet another take?” Hoping we may prolong that basically lovely scene so long as we may. However you solely get so many on the present, as a result of we’ve got to shoot all the things in eight days, and we had been attempting to inform probably the most genuine and grounded story we presumably may earlier than his time was up. To be trustworthy, I did not need to push it too arduous when he was strolling away as a zombie on the finish. I let it go. It was a mix of being within the character as Aaron, but additionally saying goodbye to my pal who I will not see as a lot now as a result of he is not on the present.

Just about everyone dies sooner or later on The Strolling Lifeless, however once they slip into walker mode, they’re usually put down. Aaron does not get to place Eric down. He watches him as a walker stroll away. What did you consider that storytelling alternative?

I believed it was nice. Eric’s been sturdy for him for therefore a few years. They had been collectively earlier than the apocalypse started. They discovered energy in one another, with this actually nice and delightful comedic quick hand that they had between one another. Even final 12 months, when Aaron was packing his luggage to go assist Rick discover extra provides for the Saviors, Eric jokingly says: “So, are you leaving me?” And Aaron turns round and says: “Yeah, I am simply so rattling uninterested in being so blissful on a regular basis!” There’s this hilarious backwards and forwards with them, this banter. I really like that. It is a human second in an in any other case very darkish and chilly and at occasions unfeeling story, the place individuals do not feel they will let their happiness and comedic aspect by way of. I liked how these two may all the time have levity, may all the time construct one another up and be hopeful even in probably the most dire of circumstances — and on this case, as he is dying, Eric makes use of the chance to say, “It is nice, I signed up for this. Return into the battle.” Primarily, “Be certain that I did not die in useless.” He is acquiescing to the truth that he may very properly die proper there. It is lovely. It is a actually lovely second. 

The largest problem for Aaron now could be that he did not have an opportunity to say a very correct goodbye. Clearly they kiss and so they half methods, however he did not have an opportunity to essentially say goodbye to his boyfriend of a number of years. It is a rattling disgrace. This man has actually simply sacrificed his life for the trigger. Shifting ahead, I believe Aaron’s going to make use of that as not one thing that destroys him, however as a catalyst. This man, and all of the great women and men who died on this battle, and even earlier like Glenn and Abraham (Michael Cudlitz), they cannot have died in useless. Their deaths need to imply one thing. We’ve to tackle the Saviors, full-on.

Aaron is likely one of the lightest characters on the present, so there is a worry that Eric’s demise may plunge him into darkness — nevertheless it sounds as a substitute like Aaron will honor his boyfriend’s sacrifice?

I believe so. There is definitely room to be a bit darkish, however transferring ahead, Aaron’s the everlasting optimist. He is been overwhelmed up by each group he is ever come throughout on the present, together with Rick. He is been a punching bag for lots of those communities. He nonetheless will get again on his toes and says, “It is nice! It is okay! I perceive. I get why you are terrified of a stranger, however I am truly a very good man. Let me allow you to. Let me assist the trigger.” I believe it is lovely that this demise has clearly shattered him, however he will not let it outline him. He’ll transfer previous it. He’ll acquire energy from his boyfriend’s demise.

What are you able to say about Jordan as an actor, now that his time on the present is over? A Blue Man, because it seems!

He’s a Blue Man! To start with, he is simply one of the crucial gifted individuals I’ve ever met in my life. He is a tremendous fiddle participant. He can play piano and guitar. He is clearly this unbelievable clown in lots of respects. The Blue Males are distinctive. I do not suppose I’ve ever seen a gaggle of performers exterior of perhaps Cirque du Soleil who can sort out so many bodily feats and so many technical points of music and dance and motion. He is an extremely gifted actor and an extremely gifted artist. I already miss him like hell. It has been a number of months since I’ve seen him. He is one of many kindest, hardest working actors. His work is trustworthy. He offers a really trustworthy portrayal with all the things he does. I miss him like loopy. It has been a troublesome season with out him. I want him all the most effective. I believe he will completely rock no matter comes subsequent. We miss his presence like loopy.

The primary few episodes of this season have been insane on the motion entrance, and on high of that, you are coping with probably the most emotional second you have got ever needed to confront as this character. How draining was this primary stretch of season eight for you? 

It was draining, nevertheless it was additionally the alternative. I believe we gained gas from it. We bought again [to start production] and Andy [Lincoln] gave this nice toast on the finish of wrapping episode 100, and it gave us this glorious spirit on set. Yeah, that is going to be a troublesome season. We all know that. Everyone knows it is going to be bodily demanding. There are going to be plenty of stunts. There’s going to be motion that must be nailed. We solely have eight or 9 days to nail every episode. However all of us had been on board, from that very first episode. We had been dedicated to telling this story one of the simplest ways we may. I believe “All-Out Battle” is likely one of the finest sections of the comics, from what little I’ve learn. It is superb to see all of it come collectively. I gained each huge energy from Andy, but additionally from Jordan. That departure was such a wonderful and bittersweet goodbye. To your level, Eric gave him motivation. He gave him the energy to proceed on. A lot in the identical means, Jordan did that, too. I’ve misplaced my wing man. I’ve misplaced my companion in crime. He is been calling me and we have been staying in contact, and he is been very supportive in saying, “Go get ’em.” We’re very pleased with one another’s work. It has been nice.

Observe THR.com/WalkingDead all season lengthy for interviews, deep dives, theories and extra.

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