#rip baseball bat stilinski

[chicgeekgirl89]

Where Hope is Left So Incomplete

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Characters: Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Melissa McCall, Chris Argent, Noah Stilinski, McCall Pack

Rating: T

Summary: Derek has one hand on the wheel and with the other he’s calling the hospital, speaking fast, leaving out any details that might raise suspicion. A werewolf at the wheel is definitely faster than an ambulance, but it’s still taking far too long. Scott is literally holding his friend together, he can hear Stiles’ heartbeat growing weaker with every passing minute, and despite his best efforts there’s blood leaking everywhere. “Derek,” Scott says as they squeal around another curve, “Derek I think he’s dying.”

A/N: This fic takes place maybe a year or two after the events of "Wolves of War." It assumes Isaac returned at some point, Stiles never went back to the FBI, Derek stuck around, and the war against supernaturals continues. Title taken from "Running With the Wolves" by Aurora.

Read on AO3

It’s an ambush. Or an assassination, Scott’s not sure which. He lets out a roar, eyes blazing, fangs bared, as steel bites deeply into his flesh. Turning he catches a hunter directly in the chest with his claws and hurls him through the air. The gash stings, blood dripping down his arm, swirling through dirt and sweat and turning his skin into a macabre painting. At least the knife is free of wolfsbane, the familiar burn is missing from his wounds.

His head is throbbing, it feels like his brain is being squeezed by a vice and it’s messing with his ability to focus, to hear, to sense where everyone else is. They’ve got some kind of device, an upgrade of the ones the Argents used to use and damn is it working. 

He rips one of the devices from the ground and hurls it against a tree feeling some satisfaction when it smashes into a thousand pieces against the trunk. It gives him enough relief to take a beat and assess their situation; Derek is thrashing another guy nearby, and from the sound of things, he’s winning. What’s become suspiciously absent are Stiles’ yells. Scanning the woods he can’t make out his friend’s gangly form anywhere. Hopefully that means Stiles has done the smart thing and tucked himself away somewhere that the hunters can’t find him.

Monroe’s lackeys don’t care that Stiles is human, they’re just as happy to take him out as any of the rest of the McCall pack and they’ve made that perfectly clear on more than one occasion. Scott tries not to think about the fact that Chris needed surgery on his back last month for an injury he’d received at the hands of a hunter. Or that they tried to take Lydia six months ago and were only stopped by Derek’s quick thinking.

They’re not supposed to be here. The pack has a perimeter and they’ve been diligent about not letting anyone through. It’s been over a year since anyone tried to attack them on their own soil. This is their turf, they’ve staked their claim. It’s a safe space, a haven, a promise of home and family and respite. At least it was. Until tonight.

Scott tries not to think about what it means that this group has gotten bold enough to sneak into the preserve in the dead of night. Tries not to think what would have happened if it were some of his younger charges who’d been caught unaware on patrol. As it is he and Derek are having a hard time holding them off.

His moment to plan is over as he’s assaulted again by a rather beefy hunter, one who is holding a knife so large it may as well be a sword. Scott lets out another roar, claws slashing mercilessly.

It’s then he hears a familiar yell and realizes that Stiles has not gone into hiding as directed, but has instead attempted to get the drop on the hunters. And of course he is armed with absolutely nothing but his trusty baseball bat, although given that he has the element of surprise, it’s working surprisingly well.

He drops two hunters in one, fell swoop and then looks up at Scott with a triumphant grin. “I knew this would come in handy someday!” he yells, raising the bat high.

Scott sends him a grin back. It’s a mistake, a horribly foolish mistake he realizes later. If he hadn’t been so caught up in the moment, if he hadn’t been so damn cocky about their ability to hold the line, what happened next wouldn’t have come to pass.

There’s a terrible, high pitched whine that has him clapping his hands over his ears in pain, and then the world explodes. 

Scott feels his feet briefly leave the ground and then it comes rushing up to meet him again, knocking all the air from his lungs. He rolls onto his back, head spinning, as he tries to get a handle on himself. 

Air slowly leaks back into his chest and he heaves a breath, pushing himself up onto his elbow. He can see Derek doing the same, several feet from him, shaking his own head as if he can’t quite remember what’s going on.

“You okay?” Scott chokes out.

“Yeah,” Derek says, though his face is bloody and Scott can see some shrapnel has torn through his shirt. 

Scott is pretty sure he’s broken a few ribs himself, he can feel them grating in his chest as he continues to suck in air, but everything else seems to be intact. The hunters…not so much. There are several bodies parts lying around and considering his and Derek’s are still attached, it seems the hunters were felled by their own weapons. “What the hell was that?” he asks, attempting to get up.

“Some kind of bomb,” Derek says, getting to his own feet and scanning the area. “We need to get out of here.”

There’s a whimper, a pathetic, horrible, pained whimper and Scott comes fully back to himself because he knows, he knows without even looking who that agonized, awful sound is coming from. “Stiles!” he cries, spotting him sprawled and broken at the base of a large boulder.

He stumbles toward his friend, his own body perhaps more injured than he initially thought, and falls to his knees, eyes widening in shock and horror.

Stiles’ eyes are closed and his left leg lies at an awkward angle. Scott knows without even touching it that it’s broken, maybe in more than one place. But worse, so much worse, is the blood pouring out of Stiles’ abdomen. His shirt has gone dark with it and there’s already a puddle forming on the ground next to him. 

“Stiles,” Scott whispers placing his hands over the wound, pressing down, trying with all his might to keep Stiles’ life from flowing out of him. 

Stiles lets out a pained cry at the pressure and without even thinking Scott begins to pull, thick ropes of dark pain swirling under his skin.

“Scott,” Derek drops beside him, eyes still scanning the area for danger. “Scott we need to get him out of here.”

“We can’t move him,” Scott’s voice cracks in panic, but even in the midst of all this he still has a nurse for a mother and her words come tumbling out now. “He could have a spinal injury.”

“It’s not going to matter if he has a broken spine if we all die out here,” Derek says urgently.

He’s right, of course he’s right, but Scott is having a really hard time formulating any sort of plan right now. You think he’d be used to it, watching those he loves suffer for his choices, but he isn’t. It never gets any better, it just makes the hole inside his chest larger and larger until it feels like it will swallow him—

“Scott!”

Derek’s sharp tone brings Scott back to himself and he takes a shaky breath, trying to formulate a plan. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re right. We have to get him out of here.”

His whole body is screaming at him in pain but he manages to get Stiles into his arms. “You want me to take him?” Derek asks. 

His own face is pale and he’s limping, clearly in no better shape than Scott. “I’ve got him,” Scott says firmly, even though his vision is swimming a little bit and his ribs are burning inside his chest.

Stiles lets out another whimper and Scott shifts him until his fingers find the bare flesh of Stiles’ arm and he resumes sucking pain from him as fast as he can.

It’s an endless trek to the car for all of them. Derek appears to be struggling, he’s clearly more hurt than he’s let on, they have all just been blown to bits after all. And Scott…Scott’s only focus is on Stiles and making sure that he gets jostled as little as possible as they stumble across the forest floor. 

He hasn’t woken up or said anything, just letting out an occasional moan or gasp of pain and it’s beyond unnerving that the usually chatty Stiles has gone silent. Only his noisy breaths confirm that he’s still alive as they stumble along over the uneven ground.

By the time they reach the car Derek looks a little better, but Stiles has gone so pale it’s taking Scott back to the nogitsune days and it terrifies him. “How’s he doing?” Derek asks as he hits the gas.

“Drive fast,” is all Scott can say as he uses one hand to keep pressure on the wound and the other to sap pain from Stiles as fast as he can manage. 

Derek has one hand on the wheel and with the other he’s calling the hospital, speaking fast, leaving out any details that might raise suspicion. A werewolf at the wheel is definitely faster than an ambulance, but it’s still taking far too long. Scott is literally holding his friend together, he can hear Stiles’ heartbeat growing weaker with every passing minute, and despite his best efforts there’s blood leaking everywhere. “Derek,” Scott says as they squeal around another curve, “Derek I think he’s dying.”

The wounds in Stiles’ abdomen are so eerily similar to Allison’s and Scott feels panic rise up in him again. He cannot lose someone again. He literally can’t survive it. Not this time. Not Stiles.

Derek spares a half second to glance back and then presses the pedal all the way to the floor. “Just hold on.”

“Derek, I think…I don’t know…should I—“ Scott trips over his own words, panic making them lie heavy in his throat. “Derek I can’t lose him.”

“I know,” Derek says. “I know, just hang on.”

“I think I…should I give him the bite?” 

Even through the tears in his eyes he sees Derek stiffen in his seat. “Scott…”

It’s not something Stiles has ever wanted, something he’s flat out turned it down on more than one occasion. Stiles is not a supernatural. He’s just Stiles. He doesn’t need claws or fangs and he doesn’t want them. But Scott…Scott doesn’t want a world without Stiles in it.

“Derek,” Scott says urgently. He needs some guidance here. He needs Derek to tell him what to do.

“No.”

The weak, raspy response isn’t from Derek and Scott’s eyes drop downward to find Stiles staring up at him, eyes glazed with pain. “No I don’t—I don’t want it,” he rasps, sucking in a rattling breath.

“Stiles we may not have a choice,” Scott tells him, voice breaking.

“There’s alway….a choice.” Stiles’ eyes squeeze shut and he lets out a guttural moan. Blood bubbles from his lips.“Scott…Scott it hurts.”

“I know, I know it does,” Scott squeezes his arm more tightly and pulls harder, faster, drawing pain like a river through his own veins.

He can feel the wounds on his back and arms, the ones that had started to knit back together, begin to reopen, blood trickling across his skin, but he doesn’t stop, not even when he begins to gasp for air himself, breath coming in short pants as the pain goes all the way to his core. It’s like every nerve ending is on fire but he doesn’t stop, not for anything. Stiles doesn’t deserve to be in pain. 

“Scott.” 

His name is a terrified whimper and it brings tears to Scott’s eyes. “I’m right here Stiles. You’re going to be okay, I promise.”

Stiles’ eyes slide closed and his jaw goes slack. Scott hears his heartbeat stutter, then sluggishly let out another beat, as if it’s a candle trying to withstand a hurricane. “Derek!” Scott yells terror filling the car.

“We’re here!”

They screech into the parking lot and Derek is out of the car practically before he’s stopped it, ripping open the door so that it likely won’t ever close right again, and helping Scott pull Stiles from the car. If Scott had half a thought to spare he’d think about how many times they’ve lived through this exact moment, a mad dash to the hospital, an anxious wait for results, answers, hope.

But as it is he can hardly think anymore because all that matters is Stiles and drawing as much of his pain into himself as he possibly can.

“We need help!” Derek yells as they burst through the doors and within seconds Stiles is on a gurney and being pulled toward the ER. Scott runs alongside him, hand still glued to Stiles’ bloody, limp arm. 

“You need to stay here,” one of the nurses tells him. Her name’s Claire, Scott somehow remembers. She’s in his mom’s book club. “Let him go. We’ve got him Scott.”

But he can’t. He can’t let his best friend go through those doors. Because if he does…that might be the last time he ever sees him.

“Scott!” Derek is right in his face, grabbing onto his arm and wrenching it away from Stiles because apparently Derek has the presence of mind not to lose his shit right here in the hospital emergency room.

Scott pulls away from him and reels back a bit, leaning against the wall, panting, eyes glued to the doors they’ve just pushed Stiles through. “Scott?” Derek is back in his face, eyes worried. “Scott are you okay?”

Scott can’t answer, his body has gone oddly numb, his chest tight. Black spots dance in front of his eyes and he can’t move, can barely even breathe. “Scott how much of his pain did you take?” Dereks asks, worry increasing by the second.

Scott looks at him vacantly. “All of it.”

And then he’s falling, Derek’s arms catching him as he floats away into nothing.

When he wakes up he feels weak. He can’t even remember the last time he’s felt like this. It’s like every bit of strength has been sapped from his body. He can barely even lift his eyelids, let alone a limb. Everything aches and throbs as if he’s burning up with fever or been hit by a truck.

He lets out a half a grunt as he forces his eyes open. “Easy,” Derek says and after a moment Scott’s vision clears enough to make out the other wolf sitting in a chair at the foot of his bed. He’s in a hospital room hooked up to several monitors, the cheap sheets scratching against his skin.

“Stiles?” Scott asks, his voice a broken whisper.

Derek shakes his head and Scott’s heart does an unpleasant lurch. “He’s in surgery. It’s…they’re still working on him,” Derek says heavily.

Scott looks up at the ceiling and tries to breathe, tries to stop the horrible sense of dread bubbling in his stomach. “What happened?” he finally manages.

“You almost killed yourself,” Derek says it mildly, in that annoyingly superior way he does when he thinks you’ve done something really stupid that he would never, ever stoop to do. But Scott can sense his restless fear under the surface, masked by sarcasm and biting comments. “You’re lucky you’re an alpha and Stiles is just a human. You know better than to take that much pain. You drained yourself dry. They had to restart your heart and give you stitches. You literally had to be sewn back together Scott.”

“I didn’t want him to be in pain,” Scott says, wincing as he tries to get into a more upright position. It’s futile, his limbs refuse to cooperate.

“Right because two dead pack members is so much better than one.” Derek glares at him. “It’s going to take you a week to recover from this. You couldn’t wolf out right now even if it was a lunar eclipse on a full moon.”

Scott sighs. He knows Derek is right, but it doesn’t change anything. “He shouldn’t even be a part of all this.”

“Yeah well, he may not be anymore.” Scott looks up and finds a glimmer of darkness passing over Derek’s face. For all his bravado and stoicism, Derek has a soft spot for Stiles. They all do. And losing him…it would be like losing the sun.

There’s a buzzing next to him and he turns his head enough to see his phone light up. “Oh yeah, Lydia called. About forty-five times,” Derek says.

Scott bites back a groan and through sheer force of will pulls himself upward, reaching for the phone. Derek under-exaggerated. He has over a hundred text messages from Lydia, Malia, Chris, Isaac, Liam…pretty much every single member of the pack. Plus his voicemail is full and there’s a backlog of missed calls. Most of those are also from Lydia.

“She’s on her way,” Derek says, holding up his own phone. “She calls for updates every ten minutes.”

Lydia’s at school. Safe. Away from all this. Or at least she was. 

“That’s Lydia,” Scott says, stifling a groan as he reaches for his pants.

“Whoa, hey, what are you doing?” Derek gets out of his chair, hand outstretched to stop him.

“I need to check on Stiles,” Scott says.

“Um, hell no,” Derek says firmly, pushing him back against the pillows. “You basically died. Again. You need to stay right here.”

His mom chooses that moment to enter and Scott feels immediate worry. “Mom, Stiles, is he—“

“Still in surgery,” she says, her face tight and drawn. “How are you feeling? And don’t give me that ‘I’m fine’ crap. I swear if you were still a kid I would ground you forever for doing this to me again.”

But despite the sharpness of her words, her hands smooth his bedsheets, fussing with them and his IV line until she’s satisfied everything is in its place. “I’m sorry,” Scott says.

She sighs and squeezes his arm gently. “I know you are. I know you all are.”

Scott swings his eyes back to Derek. “The perimeter?”

“Isaac and Malia went to check it out. Chris is going to meet them,” Derek says. “He’ll make sure no one else gets hurt.”

For the first time all night Scott feels relief. If Chris is there, the rest of the pack is safe for now. He’ll prevent anyone else from from getting blown up or shot or stabbed. “I need to get back out there.”

“What you need,” Melissa corrects him, tucking the blankets a little tighter as if that will somehow keep him down, “is to rest. All of you,” she says, shooting a pointed look at Derek that says she is not, and has never been, fooled by his bravado. “Stiles is going to need you here when he wakes up.”

Scott does feel exhausted. It’s as if all the strength has disappeared and even his bones feel bruised.

“Where’s the Sheriff?” Scott asks, thinking guiltily of the continued agony they put that man through. 

“He’s in the waiting room,” Melissa says.

Derek stands immediately. “I’ll go sit with him.”

Scott nods his thanks. The sheriff is pack. You don’t let family sit alone through something like this. 

“I have to go,” Melissa tells him. “But you stay put all right? None of that disappearing from the hospital or anything. Let someone else handle it for a change.”

He equal parts wants to protest that he doesn’t do that…and do that very thing. But right now his body feels glued to the bed. “Mom, I’m sorry,” he says again, because he is. So sorry. For everything.

She runs a gentle hand through his hair. “It’s not your fault. Get some rest.”

He’s sure he won’t be able to sleep but it’s possible she’s slipped a sedative into his IV because when he opens his eyes again he can tell several hours have passed and now Liam is at the foot of his bed. “Hey man,” he says worriedly as Scott opens his eyes. “You okay?”

Better maybe, okay definitely not. His body feels less leaden and the itching in his wounds tells him they’re finally starting to knit back together. “I’m fine,” Scott says, this time managing to get himself into an upright position that somewhat resembles sitting, although it fucking hurts to do it. “Any word on Stiles?”

Liam shakes his head and Scott feels another spike of fear. It’s been too long, way too long. Scott grits his teeth and slides his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring his shaking limbs and throbbing head. “Oh, I—“ Liam blocks his path and looks at him sheepishly. “Derek says I’m not supposed to let you leave.”

“I’m your alpha,” Scott says, pulling a card he rarely does. He’s not here to order people around and make them do things they don’t want to. “You listen to me, not Derek.”

“Yeah, I know,” Liam says, not moving. “But uh, your mom also told me not to let you move and…” he leans close, his voice low, eyes darting to the door, “I’m way more scared of her than I am of you.”

He’s an alpha werewolf and a grown adult, but apparently his mother stills runs his life. Perfect. Normally he’d ignore Liam and leave anyway, but he’s pretty sure a stiff breeze could knock him over right now so if it comes to a fight, Liam is definitely going to win. 

The door to his room opens and Chris comes in looking battle weary. “Is everyone all right?” Scott asks immediately.

“Everyone’s fine. We’ve got guards all around the perimeter, human and supernatural. No one’s getting through the line again tonight,” Chris says. “We swept the whole area and didn’t find any more devices. I left Malia and Isaac out there. Theo was on his way too.”

Scott feels a modicum of relief. “Thank you,” he says, throat thick with grief and fear. 

Chris nods to Liam. “Give us a minute?”

Liam heads out the door looking relieved. It must not be super fun to be on babysitting duty. How are you?” Chris asks, stepping closer. “Heard you did a number on yourself.”

Scott finds he can’t speak, tears rising up to the surface. He’s tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of losing. Tired of always being one step behind Monroe and her minions. Tired of worrying day and night that if he makes one wrong move he’ll lose everyone he loves. Tired of being the one everyone turns to for answers, when he clearly doesn’t have any.

And now his best friend, a person who deserves more than anything to be safe and happy, is dying somewhere in this hospital and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

He folds, crumbling in on himself, hot tear stinging his eyes. Arms come around him, pulling him in for a tight hug, holding him like he’s a child again. “This is not your fault,” Chris says softly. “None of this is your fault.”

But it is. It all is. 

Scott finds himself clutching at Chris’ jacket, fingers clinging to the rough fabric, desperately needing something to hold onto. “I can’t lose him,” he manages to choke out.

Chris tightens his hold. “Stiles is a fighter. He may not be supernatural, but he’s overcome worse than this. You have to hold onto that.”

He wants to. God he wants to believe that everything is going to be all right. But things seem so bleak and hopeless. They’ve been fighting for so long and all they’ve got to show for it is battle weary fighters, some of them little more than kids, and a mountain of loss. 

Chris continues to speak, cutting through Scott’s strife and self pity. “You’re in the middle of a war. And I know how hopeless it seems. But you have right on your side. You have faith. You have love. All the other side has is fear. That’s a powerful motivator; but love, that’s a lot stronger. That’s an anchor. You know that. Allison knew that. Stiles knows that. So hold on. Hold on and rise up stronger to fight again.”

Scott takes a few shaky breaths and finally pulls away. Chris puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. “You good?”

Scott nods and swipes at his face, wiping away the moisture there. The door opens and his mom walks in. “Oh, hey Chris,” she says in surprise. Her eyes find Scott. “Stiles is out of surgery.”

Scott sits up straighter. “Is he…?”

“Broken femur, three broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, internal organ damage, and a hell of a lot of blood loss,” she says frankly. “It would be easier to list things that weren’t damaged.”

“Is he…” Scott swallows, afraid of the answer, “Is he going to be all right?”

“They’ve got him in ICU. It’s touch and go right now.”

“Can I see him?”

Melissa’s eyes shift briefly to Chris and then back to Scott. “Honey they haven’t even let his dad go up yet. And you aren’t back to one hundred percent yet either.”

Waiting is agony. Scott’s only comfort over the next few days is that Derek frequently sneaks up to ICU and back out again giving them essentially the same report every time; “He looks like a ghost. He’s still breathing. His heart is still beating.”

People drift in and out of his hospital room, Lydia, Theo, Liam, Malia, Isaac, Corey, Mason, all of them stuck in some sort of zombie limbo, unable to find any light or joy in the situation.

Scott still hasn’t seen Noah. According to Derek he hasn’t left Stiles’ side, not a surprise to any of them. 

Scott feels himself improve physically day by day, but emotionally he’s a wreck. With every passing hour he feels the noose of guilt pull tighter around his neck. Even after his mom finally relents and gets him discharged, (at least this time they don’t have to explain his miraculous healing, there hasn’t been any) he stays at the hospital, wearing holes in the waiting room floor along with the rest of the pack. 

He’s beyond grateful to Chris who has completely taken charge of their refugees, controlling the border, checking in with other packs out of town, even calling the London pack and advising them that they might need backup. 

It’s three days later when Melissa comes briskly into the waiting room, a tentative smile on her face. “He’s awake,” she says and the room lets out a collective sigh. “He talked to Noah for a few minutes. They’re running some more tests now but things look good.” She takes in the bedraggled and traumatized group. “You all should go home.”

A few of them do, reluctantly and only at Scott’s insistence. Malia and Isaac have been splitting time between the hospital and patrolling and neither of them look like they’ve slept or had real food in days. But Derek still doesn’t go anywhere and Lydia is glued to the hospital as well. 

It’s another day before Stiles is finally moved out of ICU and they’re allowed to see him one at a time. Scott lets Lydia go first and she returns, eyes even redder than before. “You okay?” Scott asks.

She nods but he can tell she’s struggling. “He just looks so…” she can’t finish and it lodges a lump in his throat as he walks down the hall to his best friend’s room.

He knows what Lydia means immediately. Just looking at Stiles is painful. He leg is elevated and he’s so pale he practically blends into the sheets and pillows. 

Noah is sitting by his bedside looking completely exhausted and Scott feels a familiar jolt of guilt in his gut. “Sheriff,” he says softly by way of greeting.

“Hey Scott.” The sheriff’s voice is rough. “He just went back to sleep.”

“That’s okay,” Scott says, eyes trained on Stiles’ face. It’s enough to see him, to hear his heartbeat, slow but steady. 

“How are you?” Noah asks. “I heard you got pretty beat up too.”

“I’m fine,” Scott says. He’s definitely not telling the sheriff that the most he’s managed to do in the last couple days is pop his claws and even that was a huge effort that had him doubled over and panting afterward. “Sheriff Stilinski I—“

Noah shakes his head. “Don’t even go there,” he says. “We all know who’s to blame for this and it sure as hell isn’t you.”

Then why does it feel like his fault? “He should have gone back to D.C.,” Scott says softly. “He would have been safe.”

“He was going to work for the FBI Scott,” Noah says. “That’s not exactly a guarantee either. And he’s only ever wanted to be here with you.”

The words do little to soothe Scott’s anguished spirit, but his time is running out, other people want to come and visit. He reaches out a hand to touch Stiles’ arm, a single spot that isn’t covered in tubes or bandages. He pulls, gently. There’s not much pain, the morphine and other drugs are working, but he takes what little there is.

He immediately feels light headed and breathless, like someone punched him right in the gut. His knees go weak, but he locks them into place and doesn’t stop until Stiles’ face smoothes out completely and he relaxes into the pillows.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers out, voice choking on tears that are once again threatening to fall.

He turns to go but spots dance before his eyes and he reaches out, grabbing onto the IV pole for support. 

“Scott,” the sheriff is on his feet, hands reaching for him, his haggard face full of new concern.

“I’m okay,” Scott gasps, letting the IV pole go, trying to steady himself on his feet. “It’s fine.”

And then Derek is there, shoving an arm under his shoulder. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” he asks in exasperation.

“How did you—“

“I heard your heartbeat,” Derek says. “I had a feeling you would do something like this. Come on, you need to sit down.”

“What happened?” Lydia asks as Derek dumps a practically boneless Scott in a waiting room chair.

“Someone decided to take Stiles’ pain. Again,” Derek says. It comes out as a growl. Derek is furious.

Scott’s head is spinning and his chest has gone tight again. “Scott what the hell is wrong with you?” Malia asks. 

“He doesn’t deserve to be in pain,” Scott groans.

“Well neither do you!” Liam says. “Scott if you can’t help protect the pack, that’s really bad!”

“Yeah, not to put any pressure on you, but Liam is kind of a crappy alpha,” Malia says, not nearly as quietly as she thinks.

“I’m right here!” Liam fires back indignantly.

“He’s moody,” Malia mouths, eyes wide as she points at him to convey her point.

“Scott you need to go home,” Derek cuts in. 

“I can’t leave,” Scott manages. “He needs me.”

“He has literally the entire rest of the pack here,” Malia says.

“Scott,” Lydia’s voice is soft and she puts a hand on his arm, large eyes worried. They seem to be in that state constantly lately. Just another thing to add to his list. “You can go. We’ve got this. We won’t let anything happen to him.”

They don’t leave him much choice, especially not when Derek and Liam haul him up and out to the car. He’s really going to have to work on instilling more loyalty in Liam, because one menacing glare from Derek and he’s following the former alpha’s bidding like a lapdog.

Scott’s asleep before they even leave the hospital and he doesn’t wake up until morning, still fully clothed in his bed, minus his sneakers. There’s a note from Derek threatening him with further bodily harm if he shows up at the hospital before noon and a sheepish text from Liam apologizing for his part in last night’s debacle. And for accidentally bashing Scott’s head into a doorframe as he carried him upstairs.

It’s actually a few days before he gets back to the hospital. He wants to check the borders himself, make sure they are well and truly safe for now. And that steamrolls into him checking in with the new pack members, the other refugees and scraps of packs that have made their way to the safe haven Beacon Hills has become. 

Lydia updates him practically hourly and he knows that Stiles is staying awake for longer periods, has managed to keep down solid food, is now able to feed himself, and hold a conversation. 

And still Scott doesn’t return. Somehow it was easier when Stiles was still unconscious. He didn’t have to look at his friend’s eyes, to see the pain and what was likely anger there. Because how could Stiles not secretly hate him? If it wasn’t for him, for the bite, they would have gone on living their lives none the wiser. Stiles would be an FBI Agent, he would be a vet, and they would have just…lived.

Now it feels like they’re cursed.

The reasons that kept him at the hospital are the same ones that now keep him away. It’s weird. Any one of their misguided guidance counselors would probably tell him he needs to talk about that and examine it, but there’s no time. There isn’t time for anything but making sure everyone is safe.

Until his phone buzzes with a message from Derek. He’s asking for you.

And he knows, he can’t put it off any longer.

He waits until night, until he gets confirmation that everyone has gone home. Everyone except Derek. Derek won’t leave Stiles unprotected.

Scott pauses outside the door, a pit in his stomach that feels like a rock. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open. “Scottttiiiieeee.” Stiles is all smiles and Scott can smell the drugs in his blood that are keeping him like that.

“Hey buddy,” Scott says, trying to force a smile onto his own face. Maybe in his drugged up state Stiles won’t notice that it’s fake as hell.

Derek is standing broodily in the corner and Scott flashes him a grateful look. If he can’t be with Stiles, he’s glad someone is.

Stiles is apparently still with it enough to sense a conversation going on without him and he frowns. “Are you the reason I have a personal bodyguard?” he asks.

“Someone tried to blow you up Stiles,” Scott says.

“Us,” Stiles says, holding up a wobbly finger of correction. “They tried to blow us up. I was just the only one who didn’t magically heal.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott says, the weariness in his soul pulling him further downward at this reminder of Stiles’ human fragility. 

Derek chooses that moment to slip out the door. 

Scott rubs his hands on his jeans, uncertainty running through him like a river. Stiles may be drugged, but he’s still Stiles. “You want to talk about it?” he asks.

Scott’s head snaps up and he meets his friend’s gaze, eyes sharp and knowing. “About what?” Scott asks, still trying to come off as fine.

“About why you haven’t come by in days so that I had to deal with Grumpy Cat’s rather intense presence at my bedside vigil. About why you’re standing there castigating yourself over something that isn’t your fault.”

“I’m not—“

“Scott.” Stiles gives him a look. 

He knows. Of course he knows.They’ve been best friends their whole lives, he knows Scott better than Scott knows himself. 

“This was…it was way too close this time Stiles,” Scott says on a rush of air. “I was holding you, feeling you die and there was nothing I could do. And all I could think about—“

He chokes on his own words, but fortunately Stiles never runs out of them. “You thought about Allison,” he says seriously.

“And Aidan, and Boyd, and Erica,” Scott continues. “Deucalion. Brett. Lori. Stiles…the list…it’s too long. And if you get added to it…”

“Then it will have been my choice,” Stiles says and it stops Scott cold. “Because I chose to stay and defend my friends and family. My choice Scott. Not yours.”

Oh. Oh. 

Stiles is still going. “You didn’t choose to get the bite. But you chose everything that came after. You chose to fight for the right things Scott. You chose not to be a monster. Not all monsters do monstrous things, right? Well I chose this. I chose Beacon Hills. I choose this pack. I choose you. I choose Lydia. I…” he pulls a face, “begrudgingly choose Derek. Because he’s big and menacing and good at keeping bad guys away.”

Scott cracks a real smile, a sliver of light stealing its way back into his soul. “He is good at that.”

“I do not choose Theo,” Stiles continues, on a roll now. “Ever. For any reason. I choose Jackson if and only if he stops being an asshole.”

“I got it Stiles,” Scott says, face begrudgingly pulling into a full on grin.

“You sure? Because I can keep going. Liam I can take or leave depending on the day and how annoying he’s being.”

“Stiles, I got it!” Scott says, a genuine chuckle sneaking out. 

“There he is,” Stiles says, a smile on his own face. “That’s the Scott McCall I know. No more Gloomy Gus around here all right?”

“Stiles you’re in a hospital bed. You broke practically every bone in your body and almost bled out. I have a reason to be a little upset.”

“But I’m fine.” He looks down at his bandage covered body and reconsiders. “Well I will be. And so will you. Not that you didn’t also try to kill yourself on my behalf.” Stiles raises his eyebrows and Scott winces. “Oh yeah. Derek filled me in. On everything.”

“I just…didn’t want you to be in pain.”

“Yeah, well, while I appreciate the ever present existence of pain drain, you really don’t need to sacrifice yourself on my behalf. Again.” Stiles looks down as his hands. “But thanks. If you guys hadn’t gotten me here so fast…”

“Yeah,” Scott says, his eyes burning again. He’s cried more in the last week than he has since Peter bit him.

“You don’t need to take all this on by yourself Scott,” Stiles says quietly. “And you can’t protect everyone from everything.”

It’s a bitter thing to hear and he swallows it down painfully. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s been reminded of this, but he so badly wants to keep them all safe, to take them all back to a time before fangs and claws and glowing eyes ruled their lives. 

“Scott?” Stiles says, eyes searching him for a response.

“I just want you to be okay,” Scott says heavily. 

“I know,” Stiles says.

The two of them sit in the silence a moment, all the unsaid things, the weight of fighting a war they didn’t start hanging in the space between them. “I did take down two guys though,” Stiles finally says, breaking the tension.

“Yeah with your stupid bat,” Scott says, rolling his eyes. 

"Oh it’s definitely time for me to learn how to use a gun,” Stiles says. “A big one. Possibly also a flame thrower. Or a tank. Scott, I think we should get a tank.”

“I’m not letting you out again in anything less than full body armor,” Scott says, sinking down into a chair by his bed. 

“Oh! Yes. Body armor. We’ve got to have the budget for that somewhere right? Who knows that? Argent. He has to have some connections on that right? Legal ones?”

Scott sinks down into a chair beside Stiles’ bed and listens to him chatter on, feeling his own eyelids grow heavy. 

“Scott? Scottie?”

“Mhhmmm,” Scott murmurs, body relaxing as sleep pulls him downward. 

His best friend is alive. For now the border is safe. The pack is strong. And for the first time in a long time, soothed by the sound of Stiles’ voice, he falls into peaceful sleep.

[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

[thesleepy1]

Stiles’ Werewolf

A/N: I haven’t posted a fic in a while and although I’m thinking of an angst one that’s going to be longer, I actually haven’t written it. So why you all wait for that, read this to bid your time. Unbeta’d because I’m tired and this is the only time my brain will allow me to write. 

 Pairings: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

 Summary: Humans can be fragile but so can werewolves. 

 Word count: 505

 Warnings: kidnapping, possessive behavior, 

 Stiles was never going to let him live it down. He was hit over the head with a wolfsbane lined baseball bat. Sure he was fine now, but that was not without its consequences. Derek had to spend two days and two nights with an obsessive werewolf fangirl. And not the good kind either. 

 “Oh my god, do werewolves actually have knots, or is that more of a deep lore thing that even you don’t know?”

 “Can you howl for me?” 

 “Derek, bite me! Bite me and I’ll be your loyal mate. Then everyone will know that I’m yours. I would belong to you Derek and only you. Don’t you want that? Hehe, wouldn’t you be all jealous and possessive if someone were to get their scent on me?” 

 The last one had caused him to gag in his mouth. She had him shirtless and the only reason why she hadn’t gotten to his tight jeans was because she liked the look of them hanging low on his waist. Note to self, burn those jeans the second he was out of hell. 

 It was two days and two nights too long when Stiles found him chained to her bed. He didn’t want to know the details of who she was or what she wanted to do with him. Hell, he didn’t even want to know how Stiles found him without the rest of the pack. He just wanted out of there. Now.

 “Stiles, get me out of here,” he ordered the man in flannel. 

 That only earned him a laugh. “Have you seen the pictures she took, Sourwolf?” No. He hadn’t. And he never will thank you very much, but Stiles was insistent and showed him anyways. “I mean, just look at the quality!”

 Not happening. He didn’t even want to describe what was in those pictures. And the fact she had them framed made me sick. “Stiles, unchain me!” 

 “Hahaha, in a second!” Stiles reached into his jean pocket and pulled out his phone, snapping a couple pictures before picking the locks on Derek’s handcuffs. His wrist were an anguished red, whatever she injected in him was still in effect. 

 “I will rip your lungs out with my bare hands if you don’t get me out of here,” Derek threatened. Stiles knew he would never, not even get his hands anywhere near Stiles unless to hold him. But when he was terrified for his life his old habits tend to resurface. 

 “I love you too, Derek.” 

 Just then the door opened and low and behold. Who else dared to walk in but his kidnapper. Just great. He was so close to being out of this hell where his face was plastered onto the walls. 

 “What did you just say?!” she yelled which at this point he was used to. “Who are you? What are you doing to my Der-Bear?!” 

 “Excuse me, but I’m the only one allowed to call him that.” 

 “He’s mine!”

 Stiles and his big, beautiful mouth just couldn’t shut up to save their lives. 

[fandomrewrites]

Season 3a; Episode 10: The Overlooked

Hello all! Just a few more chapters of season 3a and then I’ll be taking a short hiatus from this story. I’ve been really struggling with motivation but don’t worry, that does not mean I am giving up on writing it! Please answer my pinned post and as alway constructive criticisms is appreciated! Also remember to let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Season 3a; Episode 10: The Overlooked

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend

Warnings: Just the typical teen wolf things

Word Count: 2,756

Season 3a Masterlist

Stiles, Scott, and I hide in the shadows of Derek's loft. We just finished telling him that our teacher, Jennifer Blake, is the Darach. Not even a minute later the steel door slides open and Ms. Blake calls out, "Derek? Derek, where are you?"

Derek steps out of the dark, "Right here."

She spins around so she can properly face him, "Thank God." She runs over, wrapping the Alpha in a tight hug. "Something happened at the recital. At the school. I need to tell you before you hear it- before you hear any of it from them."

"From who?" Derek asks.

"(Y/N), Scott, Stiles- they're going to tell you things. Things you can't believe. You have to trust me, okay? You trust me."

"What is it?"

"Promise you'll listen to me."

"I promise." Ms. Blake presses her lips to Derek's right after the words leave his mouth. When he doesn't kiss back she pulls away.

"They're already here, aren't they?" The three of us step out of our hiding spot. Ms. Blake backs away, like she's afraid of us. "So they told you it was me? That I'm the one taking people?"

"We told him you're the one killing people." Scott corrects.

"Oh, that's right. Committing human sacrifices. Cutting their throats? I probably do it during my lunch hour. That way I can get back to teaching high school English the rest of the day. That makes perfect sense."

"Where's my dad?" Stiles shakily asks.

"How would I know? Derek, tell me you don't believe this."

"Do you know what happened to Stiles' father?" Derek questions.

"No. I have no idea."

"Well, how about why you almost killed Lydia?" I ask, my glare hardening.

"Lydia Martin? I don't know anything about that."

"What do you know?" Derek snaps.

"I know these three teenagers, for whatever misguided reason, are filling your head with an absurd story. One they can't prove, by the way."

"What if we could?" Scott asks, stopping Ms. Blake from continuing her rant.

She looks away from Derek and back over to Scott, finally noticing the vial in his hand. "What is that?"

"Mistletoe. My boss told me it's a poison and a cure. Which means you can use it, but it can also be used against you." Scott throws the mistletoe at Ms. Blake. She raises her hands but we can all still see how her face changes to show the slashed face of the Darach.

Derek flinches like he was punched then as soon as the dust settles he rushes towards Ms. Blake, grabbing her by her throat. "No, Derek wait- wait, just wait. You need me."

"What are you?" Derek asks through gritted teeth.

"The only person who can save your sister." Derek freezes, "Call Peter. Call him."

Once Derek is off the phone with Peter he starts squeezing Jennifer's throat harder. "Derek? What are you doing?" Scott questions.

Jennifer chokes out, "Her life- it's in my hands."

"Stop. Derek, stop." Stiles calls out.

"Stilinski-you'll never find him."

"Derek, enough!" I yell at the Alpha, hoping he'll listen to me.

Finally he releases his grip, "That's right. You need me. All of you."

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 In Stiles' jeep, we follow Derek's car to the hospital. "We're going to find your Dad." Scott says.

"Alive." I add.

Stiles sighs, "How do we know he's not already..."

"He's not. We're going to find him." Scott reassures.

"Something feels wrong about this. We proved it to Derek, but she had this look like it didn't matter. Like it was all still going according to plan. You saw it, didn't you?"

Scott reluctantly nods as I answer, "Yeah, and I have a feeling."

"You have a feeling?"

"I have a feeling." I confirm.

"Danger sense?" Scott asks.

"It- it's not the danger sense. More like a pre- danger sense. I know something bad is going to happen but it doesn't feel like someone's going to die."

"Well, that could be a good thing."

I shrug, "It could be."

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Once at the hospital Stiles parks the jeep beside Derek's car. The hospital is in a frenzy due to people evacuating because of the storm. Stiles pulls a wooden baseball bat out of his car, causing Scott and I to pause. "You got claws. I got a bat."

We enter the hospital through a side door, stopping when we hear our mom call, "(Y/N), Scott?" We turn to look at her as she continues, "What are you doing here? The hospital's evacuating." 

"We're here for Cora." Scott answers.

"All of you? And why does Stiles have a bat?"

"Mom, trust me on this. You need to get out of here. Right now." 

She looks past Scott and I to see Derek holding on to Jennifer, "The building is supposed to be clear in thirty minutes. We've got two more ambulances coming back. One is ten minute's out. The other's twenty. Cora needs to be on one of those. They'll be picking up in the basement garage."

"Got it, be safe." I say, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

"You too." She whispers, watching us walk away.

In the elevator we all keep a close eye on Jennifer. "You don't need to keep me on a leash, Derek. I'm going to help." We all stay silent, Derek still tightly gripping her upper arm.

One we step out of the elevator Derek lets go of Jennifer to look for his sister. Instead of seeing Cora and Peter we see an empty bed and black throw up on the floor. "Derek." Scott calls, gesturing in the direction of the black drops.

We carefully walk towards the double doors, but before we can push them open a body soars through them. Groaning, Peter looks up, "We got a problem." He turns his attention back towards who attacked him, "Big problem." Through the doors are the twins in their combined Alpha form.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Derek, Scott, and I all quickly switch to our werewolf forms. I try and attack but am quickly overpowered. The twins throw me into the wall, "Ethan, Aiden-stop. You don't know what you're doing." Scott says.

"All we want is her." The twins say, gesturing towards Jennifer, who is slipping back into the elevator.

"That bitch." I grunt out as I shove myself off the floor. We all quickly run away from the twins. We run behind Stiles, Peter, and an unconscious Cora, who is being carried in Peter’s arms. 

Stiles, trying to be helpful, decides to try and take the twins by surprise. He hides next to the door and once the twins walk through he swings the bat at their face. The bat breaks as it comes in contact with their cheek.

The twins turn towards Stiles, who now has a look of pure horror on his face, and roars. Stiles begins to take steps back to put as much distance between himself and the twins as possible. 

I hear Scott say to Derek, "Give me a lift." Then a few seconds later Scott is flying through the air, ripping out the light fixture, and sending it to land on the twins head.

I quickly grab a hold of Stiles, getting him to run with me away from the twins. 

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Peter and Stiles rush into an operating room. Derek, Scott and I are right behind them. "Where's the big guy?" Peter asks once he puts Cora down.

"Close." Derek states.

"What about Ms. Blake?" Stiles questions.

Scott and I shake our heads, "The last I saw her she was getting into the elevator." I answer.

"What? Like she's gone?" Stiles asks.

"Quiet." Derek scolds.

"Me by quiet? You're telling me what to do? When your psychotic mass murdering girlfriend- the second one you've dated by the way- has my dad tied up somewhere waiting to be ritually sacrificed?"

I walk over to Stiles and gently grab his face, "Hey, hey. He's going to be alright. I promise. Just breath, okay?"

"You can't promise that, (Y/N/N)."

"I just did. And I don't break my promises." Stiles swallows and nods.

From behind me, Scott asks Peter, "Is she really dying?"

"She's definitely not getting any better." Peter answers, looking down at his niece. As Peter answers, I finally let go of Stiles’ face so we can both properly listen in to the conversation.

"There has to be something we can do. We have to help her."

"You can't." We all turn to the new voice. Jennifer is back, standing on the opposite side of the room, "Only I can. I can save her and I can tell you where Sheriff Stilinski is. But there's a pack of Alpha's in this hospital who want me dead. I'll help you only when I'm out of here and safe. Only then."

Derek instantly tries to attack her but Scott stops him. "Derek, wait-"

"She was trying to get out."

"I was trying to keep from getting killed. You can't blame me for that." Jennifer argues.

"You want to show us you're one of the good guys?" Stiles asks, he then points to Cora, "Heal her."

"Not until I'm safe."

"That doesn't seem fair. We need two things from you yet you only need one from us. How do we know that the minute we get you to safety you won't just take off?" I ask.

Jennifer shakes her head, "I've never met a Zeta before but if they're anything like you I really hope I don't meet anymore."

"Yeah, well this Zeta isn't particularly fond of you either."

"I'd like to volunteer a different method of persuasion." Peter pipes up, "How about we torture her?"

"Works for me." Derek replies.

At the same time I say, "Sounds like a plan."

Before we get the chance to act on our threat, the PA system crackles to life. "Um... Can I have your attention."

"Mom?" I whisper.

"Mr. Deucalion- excuse me, just Deucalion- requests you bring the woman calling herself Jennifer Blake to the ER reception. Do this and everyone else can leave. You have ten minutes."

"He's not going to hurt her." Jennifer says the second the PA clicks off.

"Shut up." Derek snaps.

"He won't. Scott, you know why. Tell them it's true."

"What does she mean?" 

"Scott?" I ask, looking at my twin.

"You're not the only one he wants in his pack." Jennifer continues. "Deucalion doesn't just want an Alpha pack. He wants perfection. That means adding the rarest of Alphas to his ranks."

"A True Alpha." Peter says, a look of awe on his face.

"What's that?" Stiles asks.

"The kind that doesn't have to steal the power from another. The kind that can rise by their own force of will. Our little Scott."

"It doesn't matter." Scott says, he nods to Jennifer, "We still have to get her out of here."

Jennifer smirks, "You don't realize that it's not just you he wants." 

"What's that supposed to mean? Why would he want-" I pause, cutting myself off. "He wants me?"

Jennifer nods, "Took you long enough to figure it out. You may not be an Alpha, but Zeta's are incredibly powerful. And if he can find an Alpha for you to kill, maybe even sacrificing one of his own, you'll be even stronger."

There's a brief pause, Scott finally breaks it, "We need a plan to get her out of here."

"But your mom-" Stiles tries to argue.

"My mom said there was one more ambulance coming in twenty minutes. I don't think we've been here that long. If we could get down to the garage, we could get that last ambulance and get out of here."

"The twins aren't going to just let us walk out the door." Peter states.

"I'll distract them."

"You mean fight them." Derek says.

"Whatever I have to do."

"I'll help."

"Sorry, but I'm not going anywhere without you, Derek." Ms. Blake interrupts.

"I'll do it. But I'd prefer going out there with an advantage." Peter says.

"What's that mean? Like a weapon?" Stiles asks.

"Something better than a baseball bat, yes." We quickly start looking around the room trying to find something that Peter could use to aid him in the fight against the twins. 

Stiles raises a set of defibrillator paddles, "Do you even know how to use those?" Derek asks.

"No." Stiles replies.

"Then put them down."

"Epinephrine?" Scott asks, holding up a syringe with a clear liquid inside.

"That would just make them stronger," I answer, not looking up from my search.

I only stop looking around when I hear Peter ask, "How strong?"

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Stiles and I lead Jennifer and Derek, with a still unconscious Cora, through the garage. "It's still here." Stiles states when he sees the ambulance parked.

Derek places his sister down on the gurney then walks over to Jennifer who just called his name. Stiles and I then hear Kali calling for Ms. Blake, though she calls her Julia, the name that Jennifer used to go by.

I quickly push Stiles into the back of the ambulance then hop in behind him, shutting the doors. I put a finger to my lips telling him to stay quiet.

When I know that Kali, Derek, and Jennifer are gone I look at Stiles, "Lock the doors behind me."

"(Y/N), what are you-" I don't let him finish the question though because I am already out of the door and moving heading back into the hospital.

Rushing inside, I strain my ears to hear anyone that is on my side. I tilt my head, listening to some people talking. I quickly realize that it's Isaac, Allison, and Mr. Argent and make my way to them. 

"What are you guys doing here?" I ask as I walk about behind them.

Argent turns around quickly, his gun aimed at my head. "Woah, just me." I state, raising my hands in surrender. 

Argent lowers the gun. "Don't sneak up on us next time."

"Noted. But seriously why are you here? The hospital is supposed to be evacuated and it's really not safe here with the Alpha pack on a rampage."

Allison opens her mouth to explain but before she can we hear Scott, "Allison?"

All together now Scott explains to us that Jennifer and Derek are stuck in the elevator. "So they're essentially trapped?" Argent asks.

Scott nods. "There's no way to get them out without turning the power back on?" Isaac questions.

"Wait, when the power's back on, they'll hear the elevator moving, right?" Mom asks.

"And they'll be on Jennifer and Derek as soon as it stops. we can't get into a fight with them."

"We need a distraction." I say.

"You've got us now." Argent replies.

"It's too much of a risk. They want her dead. And if she dies, there's nothing we can do about Stiles' dad or Cora."

"What if she's lying though? She could be just saying we need her so that we help her." Everyone looks at me with looks of wonder, "What? It's what I would do."

"I am so happy you're not the bad guy. You would be like an evil genius." Allison says, shaking her head with a small smile on her lips.

"I don't even think I know which teacher this is." Argent states.

"She's got brown hair, kind of hot." Isaac starts. We all throw him looks that pretty much say 'what the hell', "Just an observation."

"I've got an idea." Allison says.

 *_*_*_*_*_*

 Scott and I rush to meet Derek and Jennifer at the open elevator doors. But we stop in shock when we see an unconscious Derek. "Mom." We both whisper together, eyes widening at the realization that Jennifer was in fact lying to us.

"Go!" I scream at Scott. He rushes up to the roof to try and stop Jennifer from taking our mom while I rush to Derek trying to get him to wake up.

"Scott! Scott, wait!" I hear Stiles yell from behind me.

"Why are you here? I thought you were with Cora?" I ask as Stiles makes his way to me.

"They're getting out of here, we need to stop Scott." 

"What? Stiles-" I yell after him, but he doesn't listen as he chases Scott up the stairs.

I shake my head but turn away, trying to wake Derek up once more.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:  @crazy-fan-101 @rogershoe @judayyyw

[usermischief]

♞Pairing: Steo ♞Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken ♞Warnings: / ♞Words: 2125 ♞ Writing Prompt: "How many times do you think a heart can break?"

-----

“Hold still,” Stiles hisses, smushing the soapy washcloth against the black wolf’s snout. That alone is an exceptionally stupid idea. It’s a wolf, a male wolf to be specific. Considering his poor state, probably an omega trying to take out an alpha. He is able to tear Stiles’ hand off if he wants to. He doesn't luckily, which is quite relieving, but that doesn't take away from the danger, and the fact that he could change his mind at any given moment. 

Stiles should know better, and that he took that starved and hurt wolf in anyway is probably saying something about him. However, some part of him thinks that just because he hung out with werewolves for the better part of the last three years means that he knows how to deal with actual wolves. Not that it stops him. At this point, Stiles doubts neither reason nor logic work. 

The wolf sits down in the bathtub. Tilting his head a little to the side and with his tongue out of his mouth, he studies Stiles. He is cute, and huge, and will most likely cause his dad a heart attack. His excitement about Stiles coming home over the summer break is definitely going to wither and die the second he walks in on him bathing a fully grown adult wolf. Although to be fair, it's not necessarily the most dangerous thing Stiles has ever done. After all, he’s run off to Mexico twice and attacked multiple supernatural creatures ready to rip him apart with nothing more than a baseball bat. 

Despite the threatening demeanour, the wolf simply looks at him. The fur clings to him to his skin. He seems so thin. “What happened to you, huh?” Stiles wonders, scrubbing at the wolf’s neck. Mud and blood have dried in his fur, causing it to stick together. “There aren’t any wolves here. Did you meet a mountain lion?” 

The wolf cocks his head again. 

“You remind me of someone, you know that?” 

The wolf blinks, and Stiles really isn’t sure if he’s imagining it or if he did understand every word he said. Maybe he’s been too much around werewolves that he thinks every single wolf he meets is a werewolf as well. His worldview is definitely skewed. It’s not just the fact that he’s seeing werewolves everywhere, he even looks at the wolf, sees this creature capable of murder going soft around him, and can’t help but be reminded of Theo. 

Theo, who he didn't see for a little over a year.

Theo, who he left behind because he was scared and in denial.

Theo, who he misses so much that thinking about him hurts.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles grabs the shampoo bottle. "How many times do you think a heart can break?" he wonders, glancing at the wolf, and squeezes the shampoo on his fur. There’s probably some form of shampoo for dogs that would work better than one for humans, but he didn’t exactly expect to give a wolf a shower today. As long as he gets rid of all that blood and grime before his dad gets home, it's good enough.

The wolf blinks again, panting, and keeps staring at him when Stiles leans over to rub the shampoo in. This is by far one of the most insane things he's done - including admitting to himself and Lydia that he likes Theo more than he probably should, attacking the twins with a wooden baseball bat, and grabbing a flare while standing in a puddle of gasoline.

"I wish I were a wolf," Stiles mutters, scowling at all the shit that comes out of the wolf's fur. "No heartbreak, no father who's going to yell at me for an hour because I brought a wolf into our house. But… especially no heartbreak." The heartbreak is mostly his own fault. Stiles bites the inside of his cheek, trying to push away the frustration clawing up his spine. He has no idea why he hoped Theo would still be in Beacon Hills. Nobody in their right mind would stay here. "You're lucky, you know? I mean, sure, you're an omega, but… fucking hell." Stiles closes his eyes and takes a breath. He did so well. He did so fucking well. 

Fuck Theo Raeken. 

The wolf licks his left cheek, and Stiles jolts, staring at the wet and goofy looking creature. Panting like that, he looks almost happy. 

Stiles massages the shampoo into the black fur, smiling when the wolf closes his eyes as he scratches him between his ears. "I wish I could keep you."

Wagging his tail, the wolf looks at him again. It's almost like he understands every word Stiles is saying. Animals are much more intelligent than Stiles gives them credit for, but this one seems different. 

"Did you have your heart broken too?" Stiles asks, reaching for the hand shower. "No, I bet you're the one breaking hearts left and right, don't you?" With a smile, he turns the water on and places a hand under the wolf’s snout, brushing a finger through the fur at his neck. "Look at your blue eyes. They remind me of-" Stiles stops himself, shaking his head a little. He's back home for two days, and he's falling into old habits. Missing Theo hours should have long passed. “Let me give you some good advice.”

The wolf blinks, closing his mouth, and just looks at him. That could be a sign of him listening. 

“Don’t run away from someone you love. It hurts like hell,” Stiles says, testing the water’s temperature with a frown. “Never mind,” he adds after a short pause, “this isn’t even how it works for you, is it?” He feels like a fucking idiot for talking to a wolf about his heartbreak. It happened a little over a year ago. He shouldn’t still be so fucking upset, but the second he drove past the ‘Welcome to Beacon Hills’ sign, everything came rushing back. He can’t wait for summer break to be over. College keeps his mind occupied.  

The wolf sits very still while Stiles is rinsing his fur. His stare is getting unnerving. Are wolves supposed to keep looking at people like that? To be honest, Stiles isn’t even sure if wolves usually lick stranger’s faces. Lydia would probably know, but he doesn’t have the energy to be yelled at for ten minutes straight. He knows taking in a wolf is a terrible idea, but it was limping and whining - what the hell was he supposed to do? The poor boy would’ve died if he left him, and Deaton didn’t answer his phone. It’s still unnerving that he doesn’t look away because it really feels as if he's staring right into his soul. It's getting harder and harder to ignore.

Stiles drops the hand shower the second he’s finished and gets to his feet. There's one large towel in the bathroom, but he doubts that'll be enough to dry off a wolf of that size. "Wait there," Stiles says, pointing at the bathtub. "Don't move. I'll be right back." Why does he even keep talking to him? The wolf isn’t trained. 

In front of the closed bathroom door, Stiles lingers for a moment. He’s most likely imagining things. It’s not like he ever met an actual wolf in person. He hasn’t even seen a werewolf in full shit. So, who is he to judge? The wolf is probably just as confused as Stiles, and that’s why he keeps staring at him. Well, as long as he doesn’t decide to bite his head off, Stiles really isn’t going to complain. 

And he probably shouldn’t leave him alone for too long either. Shaking his head, Stiles rushes to his father’s bedroom, gets two more towels out of the dresser, and hurries back. He almost knocks but manages to stop himself from being a total idiot. Stiles pushes the door open again. The bathtub is empty. “Oh, come on, I said-” he freezes where he stands, heart jumping into his throat. 

“Stiles, let me-”

He slams the door shut before Theo can finish his sentence. No. No. No. That’s not happening. His imagination is playing tricks on him. Of course, he’d go insane. He’s back in Beacon Hills. This city is a hellhole. Stiles takes a breath. He’ll open that door, and when he does, that goofy wolf will be staring at him from the bathtub. Okay. Okay, this is fine. 

Taking a deep breath, Stiles opens the door again. Still there. Theo is still standing in the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips. He blinks, cocks his head a little to the left, and Stiles can’t believe he hasn’t noticed it before. That’s why the wolf reminded him of Theo. Oh god, did he mention a name? No. No. He never mentioned Theo’s name, but he mentioned running away from someone he loves.

Stiles slams the door, but Theo is faster. He shoves the door and Stiles at the same time, causing him to stumble backwards. It’s a miracle he doesn’t fall on his ass, which really is the last thing he needs after seeing Theo for the first time in a year. Although he came here hoping to see him, now that Theo is standing right in front of him, Stiles really doesn’t know what to do. “What the-”

But Theo doesn’t let him talk. Without a word, without any warning, he pushes Stiles against the wall opposite the bathroom door. The impact is hard, harder than necessary, but it means nothing when Theo’s mouth is on his in an erratic kiss. His hands find their place on Theo’s chest, and he doesn’t know if he wants to pull him closer or push him farther away. His body, however, is already on board with what’s happening before Theo is pressing his whole body against him. 

Heat explodes in his chest. He hooks his leg around Theo’s, pulling him as close as possible. After all this time, Stiles still melts into Theo’s kiss, the world around him still narrows until nothing matters but this kiss and the body pressed against his. It really shouldn't be that easy, he shouldn't be that easy, and yet, he has always been bad resisting Theo. 

Theo, who knows exactly where to put his hands.

Theo, who kisses him as if Stiles is the only thing that matters.

Theo, who hides his face in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily, fingers digging into Stiles' waist.

"I've missed you," he breathes, running his lips along Stiles' shoulder, kissing every inch of skin he can reach. "So much." Theo sounds so broken, so desperate, and his grip around his hips tighten to an almost painful degree. Almost. Theo hurt him only once. A single time he went too far, and he never stopped apologising for it. Ever since, Theo knows exactly how much is too much, how far he can go, how to make him feel good. 

Stiles runs his fingers through Theo’s hair. “I’m sorry," Stiles whispers, pressing a kiss to Theo’s temple. “I’m sorry, I ran. I’m sorry, I left. I’m sor-”

Theo cuts him off with another kiss and pulls him even closer. It feels good. Everything about this feels right, and Stiles can’t believe he ran away from Theo and his very own feelings. This is all he ever wanted, and at the same time, it isn’t even close to enough. “It’s okay,” Theo tells him between kisses. “It’s fine.” He kisses him again, parts his lips and moans in the back of his throat when Stiles is doing the same. 

When Stiles grabs his waist, Theo flinches away. His moan turns into a pained groan. “What-?” It finally clicks, and he’s freeing himself from Theo’s grip. “You’re hurt. I forgot-” he stops, swallowing around a lump in his throat. He totally forgot about Theo having said in his bathtub mere moments ago, grimy and bloody. “What happened?”

“I was checking the preserve,” Theo explains, frowning a little, “and ran into a mountain lion.” 

“A mountain lion.”

Theo scowls. “A mountain lion, yes.” 

"Why didn't you shift back?" It would have certainly been easier to tend for him if he knew that he was dealing with Theo instead of a random wolf. Then again, he wouldn't have told Theo he loved him, so it did have its perks. They probably wouldn't be here right now.

Hiding his face in the crook of Stiles' neck again, Theo sighs. "I couldn't."

Stiles runs his fingers through Theo’s hair. It's impossible to ignore the worry sneaking up on him. "Are you going to be okay?"

Theo kisses Stiles' shoulder. "Now, I will be."

[neverleaveyoubehind]

Teen Wolf : 1x01 “Wolf Moon”

OMG they look so young! This whole episode has made me feel so old, I can’t believe that it’s been 9 years since this aired. I still remember watching this after middle school and now, it’s been almost a decade, I’m in college , I’m a full adult, unbelievable!

Let’s proceed with the actual reaction, though.

The first scene it’s surprisingly good, I mean, the way it starts all somber with the creepy music, you see all the police department and the Sheriff arriving to the woods, all the police dogs barking , the fog ,... I really liked it. Actually, I had forgotten about this scene in particular.

Like, we actually get to see the Sheriff a little bit, in my mind we weren’t introduced to the Sheriff until later in the episode. That was cool, knowing that he’s the first important character we see (even though you need to be paying a lot of attention to see that it’s him, because they just focus on showing his arm or something like that )

Suddenly, the music changes into an upbeat song, and we are in Scotts house. (God, seeing Scott fixing the Lacrosse stick gave me ALL the nostalgic feelings I could handle) Tyler Posey looks so young, like a little baby, he changes so much during the years. Not like Dylan who looks exactly the same but , with longer hair 9 years later.

Anyway, we have baby Scott (that’s how I will be referring to him for the next 2 seasons aprox) working out , being teenagery , brushing his teeth (his sink worried me a bit, maybe they should think about investing in a new one ‘cause that one looks nasty) Then, he hears a noise and freaks out. BTW, Scotts hair is a whole situation, it’s way too long for such a small face.

He freaks out, gets out of the house with a baseball bat,which might have been the highlight of my day (also,the baseball bat as a deathly weapon was Scott’s idea first ,ladies and gentlemen, let’s take that into consideration) and we are finally introduced to Stiles.

What better way to introduce him than having him hanging for his first 2 minutes on screen? (he being completely unfazed by it, and carrying the conversation like nothing was wrong, is my favorite thing in the world and the reason why I love Stiles so much) if this whole scene isn’t the reason why everyone kept watching the pilot, Idk what to tell you.

Ok, then, after the best interaction ever, Stiles has somewhat convinced Scott to go look for the body in the woods. Because, yes people, there’s a body , this body is missing a half and Stiles wants to find it. Like, of course he does, this man thinks he’s a detective or something (And yes, I did say a half because we don’t know which part is missing) So, in what has to be the most teenager/peer pressure way (reluctantly following your best friend trough the woods with a murderer on the loose) our story begins.

We have Stiles and Scott walking around trying to find the body (every sentence that leaves Dylan's mouth during this episode is gold, that's really my opinion) Scotty is worried about the prospect of founding not only the body but, the murderer, Stiles is living his best life, joking around, walking way too fast for our asthmatic baby Scott, and that's how they get separated.

We properly meet one of the best characters of the show, the sheriff Stilinski, after Stiles gets scared by another deputy that thinks he’s the murderer, and Stiles leaves with his dad. So, now we have us a baby Scott walking alone, in the dark, back home.

He’s walking for a bit, with creppy background music and various animal noises (the music and the ambiance of this show are great. Props to the music team, honestly) Then, he reaches a clearing in the middle of the forest, takes out his inhaler, and when he is about to use it, a bunch of deer bump into him causing him to fall to the ground and drop the inhaler. (I bet he was more worried about dying crushed by deer than losing it, though) When the deer have gone their merry way,and he no longer thinks he’s going to die, he gets up and starts looking for the inhaler with the light of his cell phone (with the light of the screen to be precise. Scotty isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed), but he doesn’t find his inhaler, he finds... The body (the upper part, in case someone was wondering)

Then, Scotty jumps back from the scare, and falls down a hill. When he gets up, a huge black monster attacks him and baby Scott gets bitten!

(The CGI of the first season is truly horrifying but, don’t panic my friends, it will get better)

Baby Scott runs as good as he can manage ,after being bitten by an unknown huge thing and having lost his inhaler,through the woods until he reaches the road, where he is almost hit by a car (our homeboy Scotty is having a really bad night)

SPOILER

The fact that he gets almost run over by Allison and her mom , who aren’t even in the show yet is amazing. Jeff did truly love this 2 because their storyline is truly wonderful, their whole relationship is handled with such care and a lot of attention to details. It makes my heart soft.

SPOILER

They go to school, Jackson looks like an asshole and turns out to be an asshole, normal High School shit. Scotty shows Stiles his bandage and tells him that a wolf bit him, then Stiles proceeds to laugh his ass off because there hasn’t been wolfs in California in like 60 years (Stiles is the kind of person that knows that type of thing) and , baby Scott tells him that he found the body.

Then this whole hilarious scene happens:

They go to class and Scotty starts hearing a phone ringing and turns out he’s the only one hearing it (obviously dude, you’re a werewolf) because it’s the phone of a new girl that’s outside of the High School waiting for the headmaster (I guess, I though someone else was but maybe that hasn’t happened,yet) this new girl is talking on the phone with her mom and she realizes that she forgot to bring a pen (really? You forget to bring a pen to your first day of High School? Someone wasn’t prepared)

So the headmaster brings the new girl to Scotty’s class , her name is Allison, and baby Scott has a crush on her the second he sees her (puppy love has never been more fitting )

Then, he does that whole thing of giving her a pen that she didn’t ask for (if I was Allison I’d be creeped out that someone just gave me a pen after I said outside of the building that I didn’t have one but, IDK, maybe it’s just me)

Anyway, Lydia and Allison become BFFs ,they have Lacrosse practice (we hear the Lacrosse background music for the first time) and surprise, Baby Scott didn’t suck (we also meet Coach aka the most important person of Beacon Hills high school) After school Stiles and Scott go back to the wood to look for the body and the inhaler (seriously, do this kids never learn?) while Stiles jokes about Scotty being a werewolf,and Derek Hale makes his first appearance (God Derek looks like Edward Cullen in this episode) he gives Scott his inhaler back and tells them to get out of his property (like an old man)

Stiles tells Scotty that almost all of Derek’s family died in a fire in his house and baby Scott leaves to go to work. He goes to feed the cats and they freak out, Allison comes to the vet hysterical with a dog she run over , this cutie moment happens :

Baby Scott is in love, so he asks her out to Lydia’s party that friday, Allison is also in love so she says yes. Scotty goes to sleep feeling on cloud nine and wakes up in the middle of the woods (it was a full moon the night before) he sees the big monster that attacked him the other night starts running and ends up falling in someone’s pool (Baby Scott is way to ripped for an asthmatic little kid but, ok)

He goes to school , Jackson interrogates him about steroids (fuck off Jackson, no one likes you. Well, maybe Lydia, but that’s it) Scotty freaks out about sleepwalking 40 miles into the woods, they go to Lacrosse practice and Scotty makes first line so he’s going to be playing in their first Lacrosse game of the year ,Stiles is suspicious because Scott was awful at Lacrosse like 2 days ago , and suddenly he’s a pro (like he should be, honestly, people should listen to Stiles more)

Stiles goes home researches a freaking ton about lycanthropy and werewolfs and decides that yes, his best friend is a werewolf (just like that, that was his first option and he stuck to it) he calls Scotty, tells him that he should cancel his date with Allison just in case he tries to kill her but Scott ignores him.

Melissa and baby Scott have a nice mother-son moment before his first ever date (with a lot more mentions of teenage pregnancies and underage sex for what one would expect from a first date)

Baby Scott takes Allison to the party, everything is going great, until it isn’t. Suddenly Scott starts feeling the bloodlust and the changes that Stiles had warned him about, so he leaves the party (leaving Allison alone without as mush as an apology, and without a way to get back home) Do not fear, though. Derek offers to take her home so everything’s great.

Scotty goes home while having a whole freak out and tells Stiles (who has followed him because he’s the best friend anyone could ever have) that Derek is the werewolf that bit him. Stiles tells Scotty that Derek took Allison home, Baby Scott leaves to have a fucking argument with Derek, and Stiles goes to Allison’s house (Allison was just fine so Stiles leaves)

Scotty and Derek get attacked by werewolf hunters (needless to say, Scotty won’t be sleeping in a while)

In the morning Stiles picks him up from the woods. At school Scotty apologizes to Allison, she forgives him because they are in love (or stupid , if I had been left like that in the first date I wouldn’t have forgiven him) and we are introduced to Allison’s dad

Wait, did I say Allison’s dad? I meant the werewolf hunter that tried to kill him the night before.

Wow that was a roller coaster of emotions ! What did you guys think? Did you remember all of what actually happens ? Did you also realize that you’ve been mixing what happens in each season together into one big season? Because I did

[fluffyximagines]

Definitely Worth It

(Teen Wolf) Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 1935

Summary: You and Stiles have always disliked each other but when he helps save you, your opinion of him begins to change. *Set during 5x01*

A/N: I’ve decided to try a different way of separating the paragraphs because line breaks don’t always work, let me know what you prefer :) Changed the theme and colours for this page as well so let me know if you like it. Hope you all enjoy <3

Requests are open

Masterlist

“Do you ever stop talking?” You groaned as you listened to Stiles go on and on about… well you didn’t know exactly what he was talking about, you had stopped listening to whatever he was saying a few minutes ago. 

“You know Y/N, you don’t have to be here.” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Actually I do.” You argued, shaking your head. Of all the people to get stuck with, why did it have to be Stiles?

“Why?” Stiles questioned, shifting in his car seat so that he was now looking at you. 

You and Stiles had been put in charge of looking after Liam during the full moon, as he still wasn’t able to control his turning. The two of you were currently parked in Stiles’ blue jeep while Liam was chained to a tree just outside. 

“Because you can’t be left by your self.” You answered, currently asking yourself the same question.

“I’m not by myself, Liam’s here.” Stiles pointed out the front windshield to where Liam was standing by the tree. 

“Cause Liam will be great company in a few minutes.” You remarked, an obvious sarcastic tone in your voice. 

“Still be better than you.” Stiles muttered, trying to hide it under his breath but you had heard exactly what he had said. 

“Do you two ever stop fighting.” Liam called, groaning as he tried to shift positions, the chains digging deeper into his skin. 

“Just stay out of this, the adults are trying to have a conversation here.” Stiles replied, winding his window up so that Liam could no longer hear the two of you. 

“Pretty sure there’s only one of those here.” You snarked, looking into the back seat for the snacks that you and Stiles had brought with you. 

“Even if Liam tries to attack me, what are you going to do about it?” Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows. “I mean, you’re only human.”

“Stiles, you are only a human too.” You turned around, giving him a confused look. 

“Yes but I have my bat.” Stiles gestured to the baseball bat sitting on the back seat of the jeep. 

“Great, I feel safer already.” You rolled your eyes, opening your bag of chips. 

“Hey, I’m still alive aren’t I?” Stiles was clearly offended by you insulting his bat. 

“Barely.” You mumbled before focusing your attention on your packet of chips. 

————— 

You had known Stiles since 3rd grade, when your family moved to Beacon Hills. While you had easily formed a friendship with Scott, your relationship with Stiles had always been more complicated. You two were very competitive, constantly trying to out smart one another. While you loved to pretend like you did, you didn’t actually hate Stiles, it was something of a love-hate relationship between the two of you. He was the only person that could match your sarcasm, which often frustrated you as you liked to be the best at everything, or at least better than he was. 

During high school, you had formed a close friendship with Lydia and Allison. While the boys tried to keep all the supernatural stuff a secret from you, once Lydia and Allison knew, it was hard to keep it a secret from you. Once you had found out, you wanted to get involved, doing anything you could to try and help your friends. However, because you and Stiles were both human this meant that you ended up hanging out with him more than you would have liked. 

Before long, you started to develop feelings for the freckled boy. Your relationship started to become a little more love than hate, at least for you. However, you could never tell Stiles this, that would mean giving in to the little competition the two of you had going, something you were too stubborn and proud to ever do. So you kept the bickering between you a constant, hoping that no one would suspect your feelings for him. Something that had been working out pretty well so far. 

————— 

You and Stiles were sitting in silence, when you heard Liam calling from outside of the car. “I think it’s been long enough.” You and Stiles exited the jeep, helping to remove the chains from around Liam and the tree. 

“Good job.” You smiled, as the three of you were headed back to the jeep. “Seems like you have figured out how to stay in control.” 

“We should get going if we’re going to make it to the school on time.” Stiles interrupted your conversation with Liam, looking at the time. “We still gotta drop Liam home before we go to the school.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a knot.” You rolled your eyes, clicking your seatbelt in. “We’ll get there eventually.”

“Of course that’s what you would say.” Stiles shook his head, as the jeep began to move.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You turned to give Stiles a confused look. 

“You are always late.” Stiles shrugged. 

“What? No I am not.” You argued.

“Yes you are.” Stiles nodded his head.

“Are you two going to do this the whole way?” Liam sighed from the back seat. 

“You are welcome to walk home.” Stiles offered in his usual sarcastic tone. 

—————

Once you and Stiles had dropped Liam off at his house, you headed towards the school. Once you got there, Stiles parked the jeep in the school parking lot. As you looked around, you noticed that there were quite a few cars but no people. You assumed all the other seniors were already inside the school. 

“Told you we would be late.” Stiles had clearly noticed the empty carpark just as you had.

“I’m sure we haven’t missed anything.” You shrugged, slamming the jeep door shut. 

“Hey! Be careful with my jeep.” Stiles gave you a stern look, at which you just rolled your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, did I hurt your girlfriend?” You laughed, mocking Stiles with a pout. 

“Shut up.” Stiles muttered, the two of you beginning to walk towards the school. 

As the two of you walked, you were sure you could hear something behind you, as if someone, or something, was following you. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Stiles asked, noticing that you kept turning your head to look around. 

Before you could answer, something large hit you, knocking you into the ground. Your head slammed into the ground, causing your vision to blur. You couldn’t see what had knocked into you, but you could feel its weight on top of you. Whatever it was, it was making strange noises, sort of like a growling. 

“Y/N!” You could hear Stiles yelling, but couldn’t tell where it was coming from. The pounding in your head increased as you tried to find where Stiles was. 

You tried to call back but the weight of whatever was on top of you was making it hard. “Stiles.” You tried to call out, but it came out as more of a whisper. 

The thing on top of you was now making sniffing noises. ‘Oh god it’s going to eat me’ you couldn’t help but think to yourself. You were surprised it hadn’t started attacking you yet. What is it doing? You tried to force it off of you but it weighed much more than you did and you were sore from when it had knocked you over. 

You cried out in pain as you felt the creatures nails, no more like claws, begin digging into your skin. The creature, whatever it was, had dug it’s claws in and ripped, leaving a large gash in the side of your abdomen. 

Next thing you know, you felt the weight of the creature shift, so it was no longer crushing you. It moved off of you, standing still for a moment, before turning and running away from where you were. 

“Y/N are you okay?” You felt Stiles’ arms wrap around you as he helped you to your feet.

“Yeah. I think.” You mumbled, trying to stop your head from spinning and focus on your surroundings. 

“That doesn’t look good.” You felt Stiles brush your side where the creature had hurt you. You could feel blood trickling down your side. 

“What was that?” Your vision started to focus, allowing you to properly see your injury for the first time. 

“No idea.” Stiles panted, “it was like a werewolf, but different, never seen anything like it.”

“It just ran away?” You now looked at Stiles for the first time, giving him a confused look.

“Guess it got confused.” Stiles shrugged slightly, which is when you noticed the baseball bat in his hands. 

“You used your bat?” You asked, pointing to what was in his hand. 

“Yeah.” Stiles smiled, “gave him a little whack on the head.”

“Maybe the bat isn’t so bad after all.” You let out a small chuckle. 

Before Stiles could answer you, Scott, Lydia, Malia, and Kira came rushing towards the two of you. “What happened?” Lydia asked, walking towards you and helping Stiles hold you up. 

“Yeah I heard you yelling.” Scott said to Stiles, before turning to look at you. 

“Something attacked Y/N.” Stiles explained. 

“What was it?” Kira questioned, looking around the carpark to see if the creature was still there. 

“No idea.” Stiles shook his head. “We should get Y/N to the hospital.”

“Yeah.” Scott nodded his head as Lydia and Stiles helped you into the car. “I’ll let mum know we’re on our way.”

—————

“You’re still here?” You pushed yourself up in your hospital bed as you saw Stiles entering the room.

“Yeah, the others went to try and see if they could figure out what that thing was, but I thought someone should stay with you.” Stiles awkwardly hovered in the doorway of your hospital room. 

“You know, you are allowed to sit.” You smiled, gesturing to the chair sitting next to your bed. 

“Wasn’t sure you’d want me to.” Stiles nervously played with his fingers, before changing the subject. “Anyway, how are you feeling?”

“A little sore but Melissa said I’ll be fine.” You nodded, pulling your blankets further up your chest.

“Good, that’s good.” Stiles sighed, sitting in the chair beside you. The two of you fell into a silence, neither of you knowing what to say to the other. 

“Of course I’d want you to.” You broke the silence, “stay, I mean.”

“I thought you hated me.” Stiles frowned, avoiding eye contact with you. 

“Maybe the bat isn’t the only thing I’ve changed my mind about.” You gave him a small smile, shrugging. 

“Why did you hate me though?” Stiles lifted his head to look into your eyes. 

“I never hated you Stiles.” You reached your hand out to place it gently on his arm. “I just liked messing with you.”

“Good, because I’m sick of fighting with you.” Stiles took your hand in his, giving it a small squeeze. 

“But I thought you hated me too.” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. 

“Nah, I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.” Stiles shook his head, a shy smile on his face. 

“Seriously?” You giggled, giving him a small shove. 

“Yeah.” Stiles let go of your hand, nervously fiddling with his fingers. “You probably think I’m an idiot now.”

“Not even close.” You whispered, turning Stiles face towards yours and pressing your lips to his. You smiled as the two of you kissed, and could feel Stiles doing the same. Who knew all it would take is for one of you to get attacked before you could finally admit your feelings for each other. Definitely worth it.

[fxckingfinan]

So It Goes (Stilinski) - Chapter 1

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: Everything seems normal to the naked eye when referencing Beacon Hills, almost boring if you were to ask the residents. However, it’s what lies beneath the surface. When Y/n and her two best friends Scott and Stiles are thrown into the adventure of a lifetime. Secrets come out, and changes are made. And to think it all started with half a body. (Season 1)

Word Count: 2748

Warnings: A couple swear words

—

They locked eyes, his faltering slightly as he glanced down at her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned in, feeling his warm breath fanning across her face as she waited for their lips to lock. With a sudden sting to her forehead, her eyes snapped open. Mouth gaping in shock. Y/n leaned back slightly, her arms around his neck loosening considerably as she did so. The teen had never been rejected while trying to kiss someone, let alone flicked in the forehead as a form of said rejection.

"Did you just flick my forehead?" Her expression contorted into one of confusion. Eyes locking with his whiskey-colored ones. She watched carefully as he brought his shoulders up into a shrug, simultaneously opening his mouth to speak.

"You need to wake up" His voice came out smooth, like running your fingers over velvet. Her brain was slowly registering the words as she was easily distracted by him. First, it was his eyes. How kind they seemed as they gaze into hers. Then it was his lips, which curled up into a smirk when he noticed she had been staring. Y/n continued to watch as his tongue peeked out to wet his lips lightly before he continued.

"Wake up Y/n." Her eyes snapped up to meet his, noticing a difference in the way his voice sounded. It sounded familiar, but most definitely not him. Confusion settled into her features for the second time as her brain tried to register the obvious change. Y/n’s left eyebrow flicked up as her eyes scanned his face for any sign of change. She didn’t know what she was searching for, yet she knew something was quite right.

And then it hit her.

“That's funny, you kind of sounded like-" She watched on, bewildered as his features slowly change. Morphing drastically to resemble someone else. Y/n jumped back in horror, eyes widening considerably as she looked at the new face in front of her. “Scott?" Her voice came out in a shrill screech.

Scott McCall.

She could basically feel the bile rising in her throat as she brought her hand up to cover her mouth.

Y/n’s body shot upwards out of her bed, eyes searching for the culprit who ruined the beautiful dream. Finally finding seconds later Scott kneeling by the side of the bed, looking at her with a face feign of innocence. Eyes narrowing towards him she pushed him, causing him to land on his back. Knocking the air out of his lungs she assumed as heavy sounds of wheezing filled the room.

Kicking the covers off of herself she stood in front of the boy, hands finding their place comfortably on her hips. The girl's heart felt like it was pounding out of her chest as she tried to breathe away the heart palpitations she was currently having. Y/n’s lips turned down into a disturbed frown as she made eye contact with the familiar brunette. A quick but visible shudder coursing through her body.

"Scott, what the hell are you doing in my room?" She barked at him, eyes flickering to the clock beside her bed as Scott worked on getting up off of the floor. Y/n’s eyes widened at the ridiculous time it revealed. "Are you freaking kidding me? Do you even know what time-" he shushed her quickly, bringing his hand up to cover her mouth.

"Just listen to me. There's someone outside the house, and I think they're trying to get in." He spoke in a hushed tone. She raised her eyebrows at him, fully not believing the words coming from his mouth. Quickly tearing his hand from her face she held it an arm's length away.

“I highly doubt someone would be trying to break into-" Y/n abruptly dropped his hand in response to the loud crash that could be heard outside. She turned her head slowly to the door, staring with wide eyes trying to listen for something more. Y/n’s thoughts were immediately plagued with thoughts of death, and how this couldn’t possibly be the end for her.

"What the fuck was that?" Whipping her head towards Scott her eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets. He shook his head in disbelief, bringing his hands up to his temples rubbing circles. She slowly moved closer to him. He narrowed his eyes at his sister as she placed her body behind his, continuing to stare out of her bedroom door.

"Oh my god, I literally just said someone was trying to get into the house Y/n. Come on we need to check it out." Looking at him in utter distaste, she shook her head.

"Scott, are you looking to become a literal homicide case? I am not going down there! I don't know about you, but I actually quite like living at the moment." She spoke incredulously, waving her arms in a somewhat spastic movement. He let out a dramatic sigh, throwing his head back and turning towards Y/n to give her a look. Puppy dog eyes to be exact. Knowing for a fact she can never stand her ground when he gives her puppy dog eyes. Even as kids she was never able to.

“Okay, fine!" She snapped, a look of triumph crossed his face as she scowled at him. "You go out first." Scott shook his head rapidly in response, pointing towards the door and then Y/n. "You are so ridiculous." She huffed turning around.

Slowly but surely she made her way towards the door of her bedroom, poking her head out and looking up and down the hallway before venturing out. Turning around she waved Scott out of the room, signaling it was okay to continue. Moving down the hallway she made sure to keep her back to the wall only focusing on looking forward. She had seen enough horror movies to know to be aware of what's behind you.

"Okay Scott, what's our game plan?" Turning her head she expected to see her brother. Only to be met with the sight of an empty hallway. "Scott?" her voice came out quiet but sharp, "Where the hell did you go now?"

She found herself leaning on her other foot to try and get a better view of the whole hallway. Suddenly, Scott poked his head out of his room. Holding up his fingering to shush the girl before he fully emerged into the hallway. Slowly her eyes traveled down to look at the baseball bat he held in his right hand firmly. Y/n’s eyes flickered back up to his face, giving him an unimpressed look before continuing down the stairs.

Somehow, her foot slipped. Right off of one of the steps, creating a loud thump. Her body hurled forward, tumbling down the remainder of the stairs. It wasn't the worst pain she’d ever felt, but it was by no means enjoyable. Surely she'd be nursing a few bruises tomorrow.

Y/n groaned, rolling over onto her back and attempting to stable her rapid breathing. Making a mental note to ask her mom if they could carpet the stairs. Scott finally finished his descent down, barely sparing a glance towards Y/n on the ground as he stepped over her. A soft whine left her mouth as she used the banister to hoist herself up off the floor.

Quickly blowing the hair out of her face as they stationed ourselves on either side of the front door. Each trying to compose themselves before continuing. Letting out a quick breath to blow the fallen piece of hair out of her face, she looked at Scott. Holding eye contact with Y/n, he continued to make various hand gestures towards himself and the door.

"What?" She inquired quietly, tilting her head to the side with furrowed eyebrows. He sighed, repeating the same hand gestures before raising his eyebrows. "Scott, I have no clue what you're trying to say but you have successfully confirmed to me that you've never taken a sign language class."

"Oh my God," He breathed out, "They were hand signals, not sign language. I'm going to go first, and then you come out right behind me. Sound good?" Letting out an elongated 'oh' she nodded enthusiastically before giving him the okay sign. Rolling his eyes he slowly opened the door stepping outside. Y/n trailed closely behind him, running into his back when he stopped abruptly. Carefully she looked around his body, letting out a sigh of relief when she didn't see anything. She walked to the edge of the porch, leaning against the railing and turning her head to look at him.

"Wow Scott, look at thi-" A scream ripped through her throat as a body dropped down in front of her. Instinctively closing her eyes, punching whatever was in front of her body. Y/n’s fist made contact with what felt like a forehead. Which also caused her knuckles to crack loudly, making her cringe not only from the sound but also from the pain that shot through her hand and up her arm. Opening her eyes one at a time she was met with Stiles Stilinksi upside down rubbing his forehead with a pained expression.

"Stiles, what the hell are you doing?" Scott screamed, his voice cracking slightly. Y/n didn't even have time to make fun of him before her blood pressure rose. Her face turning hot as she clenched her fists by her sides. Nails making small crescent-shaped dents in her soft palms. She brought both hands up to push harshly on Stiles' chest. Causing him to not so gracefully fall off of the roof. He shot up out of the bush he landed in, firmly glaring at Y/n as he climbed over the railing and onto the deck. As if it was her fault he scared the shit out of her.

"Neither of you were answering your phones!" Stiles tried to reason. Looking at her first, and then Scott. "Why did you punch me? And why do you have a bat?"

Crossing her arms, she stared at him blankly. Hoping soon her stare would burn holes into his head.

"We thought you were a predator." Scott replied, throwing his arms up into a shrug.

"A pred- What?" Stiles stammered.

"You know, the 'skin you alive and eat your hair' kind," Y/n commented, picking at her chipped polished nails. The two boys looking at her with concerned expressions. "What?" She shrugged, "It's true." Stiles briefly licked his lips before shaking his head and speaking.

"Okay, anyway, I know it's late but hear me out. I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago, dispatch called. They're bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, and even the state police." He chattered, his eyes flickering between Scott and Y/n before completely landing on Y/n as she raised her hand lazily. His eyes squinted towards her, "What?"

"For what?" Genuine curiosity took over the girls mind as she crossed her arms and shuffled closer to her friend. She waited anxiously for the boy's answer, chewing the dead skin off of her lips. A gross habit she had yet to break.

"Two joggers found a body in the woods." He spoke excitedly, causing Y/n to snort. It also had her slightly concerned for the small group's well-being. Not enough to have any form of distrust.

She’d learned to not question Stiles over their many years of friendship. It's just something she didn't do. He was easily one of the most intelligent people the girl had ever met. She fully trusted him, probably even with her life if it came down to it.

Scott gasped, "A dead body?" He looked at Stiles with wide eyes. Stiles shared a look of distress with Y/n before looking at Scott. She sighed, bringing a hand up to her forehead, trying to rub away the stress lines forming.

"No, a body of water. Yes, dumb-ass, a dead body" Stiles cracked out.

A snort made its way out of her nose as she shook her head at his familiar sarcastic humor. Stiles was always the comic relief in any situation. Most times it was appreciated, sometimes not so much.

"You mean like, murdered?" Scott's voice wavered slightly.

A wrenching feeling settled in her gut.

"Nobody knows yet," Stiles shifted from one foot to the other, unable to keep still. An action he did quite often when excited. Also usually associated with the erratic flailing of his hands. "Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties."

Y/n could practically feel the gears turning in her head. Mumbling a small 'wait a minute' before looking up as she realized something.

"So if they found the body, what’s left to look for? What are you leaving out?" She challenged crossing her arms. Stiles grinned, pointing at his head and then her own. His eyes flickered between his two friends before him.

"That's the best part." He rushed out, rolling onto the balls of his feet. Another action he did when excited. "They only found half." He made a quick popping noise with his mouth, smiling wildly. "We're going.”

Y/n didn’t know exactly how Stiles had managed to convince the two siblings to go, but the further they walked the more regret settled into her stomach.

"We're seriously doing this?" Scott inquired, taking in his surroundings hesitantly.

The whole thing was an awful idea; Y/n knew that. Whatever ripped this jogger in half could very well still be out there. They were going into this blind. Quite literally considering how dark it was.

"You're the one always bitching that nothing ever happens here." Stiles tried to reason with him. Y/n quickly shoved her body in between the two, causing them to jump apart. Looking between them before settling on Stiles.

"To be fair, Stiles, I don't think he meant he wanted to literally become part of a criminal investigation." A tight-lipped smile found its way to her face. “Quite honestly I’m surprised he’s even here right now. He wouldn’t even kill the spider he found in his bathroom today! I had to do it for him.”

A deep chuckle rumbled through Stiles's chest in response. She didn’t have time to marvel at the beauty that was Stiles Stilinski before a sharp pull to her hair caused her to stumble backward, a small yelp leaving her lips. She scowled, looking up to see neither of them had stopped walking. Crossing her arms and huffing she chose to trail behind them instead of trying to catch up.

"I was trying to get a good nights sleep before practice tomorrow." Scott raised his arms slightly, showing his subtle irritation at the boy with buzzed hair.

Not being very interested in the conversation she zoned out, taking the time to absorb her surroundings. It was dark and depressing, which wasn't a surprise considering they were in the middle of the woods. At night. Searching for a dead body to top it all off. Yet it was her slipper clad foot sliding into a wet, sloppy hole of mud that really made her decide she was over this whole adventure. Of course, she would be able to find what seems to be the only muddy spot in the forest.

The girl stopped fully, taking the time to slide her foot out of the mud carefully in an attempt to keep her slipper on. Cursing herself for being too lazy to change into an actual pair of shoes.

“Goddammit.” She grunted as she started to shake off some of the mud. It was the distinct snap of a twig behind her that brought her actions to a halt. Her head turned to the side slightly, brows furrowing as she chose to listen instead of look. Her third mistake of the night. Only silence followed, nearly quiet enough to hear a needle drop. Y/n shook off the feeling of impending doom as she looked forward to continue walking with her friends.

Except for her friends weren’t there. Not a single trace of Scott nor Stiles. She hadn’t realized how long it had been since she heard either of the boys.

A sigh left Y/n’s lips as she brought her hand up yet again to rub the stress lines in her forehead, the other finding a place on her hip.

"Well shit."

Tag List

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

[malumieczyslaw]

╔═.✾. ═  LOG 201808.03 :  mieczyslaw stilinski  |  cis man, he/him | 23 years old.

Just spotted STILES around town. Our records show that they remember [ some things ] from their source : teen wolf (canon). They were first spotted in august 2018 and our best guess is that their last memory is getting accepted into the fbi internship. Archivists watching them state that they still have the wears plaid to every occasion, considers a baseball bat to be a weapon, drives a broken own jeep vibe about them.

━  from Armes E. Sallow’s  personal archives. ═.✾. ═╝ 

 ↳・゜dylan o’brien .

FROM AN INTERVIEW BACK IN 2018

ARMES: can you tell me your name and where you are from?

You can just call me Stiles. I’m from California. 

ARMES: and what is the last thing you remember from your home?

I have this friend who’s kind of dick and very much an idiot. He’s wanted for mass murder, and I know that sounds bad but trust me when I say he’s being framed. I was trying to help him but the next thing I know I’m in the middle of your woods here. 

ARMES: I ask this because we have a history of memory loss in town.  do you feel as though you have any blanks in your memories?

Some things aren’t...yeah there’s gaps.

ARMES: and are you feeling settled?  have you found a job?

I’m a reporter for the Sallow Times. Settled? Oh you mean like having a regular life after being ripped from everyone I know and love? Yeah, sure. I’m settled. 

ARMES: what, do you think, was the strangest thing you saw before arriving in this town?

I don’t think I want to answer that question. 

ARMES: do you believe in the supernatural or mythical?

I get pulled into a creepy little town that I can’t leave and you’re asking me if I believe? Yes, yes I do believe that some weird shit is happening here. 

ARMES: what kind of traits would your friends or family give you?

Smart, good looking, really freaking intelligent. I’m good at figuring shit out so whatever you’re trying to keep from us here...I’m going to figure out how to get out of here, okay?

ARMES: is there anything else you would like to say?

For this interview? No. But look, I get that secrecy is your thing here but I’m begging you...can you just make sure my dad’s okay? I won’t ask for anything else. He doesn’t have anyone else, I just need to know that he’s going to be okay without me.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @rubyredhoodling!

For rubyredhoodling, who likes BAMF Stiles (and Derek), spark Stiles, Derek comes back, and there may be just a small hint of mafia au. Season's greetings, and I hope you like it!

Read on AO3

*****

Priorities

There were hunters in his town.

Stiles sat behind his desk, picking up the plaque reading "Sheriff Stilinski," only mildly defaced by the removal of his dad's first initial, and turning it over in his hands. There had been five people who held the office of sheriff between the two Stilinskis; the first, and only one elected to the position, had been a deputy that had ties to hunters but hadn't taken part in any activities that could lead to firing or even disciplinary charges. He'd laid low long enough for things to settle down and then used his connections to mount a successful campaign to remove John Stilinski from office - because surely all of the dramatic violence in Beacon Hills had to be due to the sheriff not doing his job.

The former deputy's hunter regime had lasted a year before he was removed from office in disgrace. Not for the harassment and humiliation of anyone even vaguely connected with the supernatural (or somewhat brown in skintone), but for having so grossly mismanaged the department's budget that the county only found out the sheriff's office had run out of money when checks bounced. The forensic accountant that was appointed as interim sheriff stayed for a month, presenting a preliminary audit and her resignation at the same time. The next sheriff had died in what was referred to as either mysterious circumstances or a hunting accident, depending on who was speaking and who was listening, followed by the fourth sheriff resigning by way of an email sent after he got into his car and kept driving after attempting to investigate said mysterious hunting accident. His family had to stop unpacking and reload the moving truck to join him.

By the time the fifth sheriff in two years had been appointed, Stiles had resigned from the FBI and come home on a mission. If his dad wouldn't leave - and he wouldn't - then Beacon Hills had to become a safe place for his dad to live, and not just within the perimeter of mountain ash and totems and runestones and every other type of protection magic that Stiles could find to place around their house. The forces of evil couldn't even see the house, but it wasn't as if his dad would agree to stay inside it forever.

If the fifth sheriff had contented herself with accepting the drop in the murder rate and number of animal attacks, she might have lasted. As it was, she had arrived one night at the high school in time to see the longest-serving deputy remaining on the force go up in flames, a number of people growing fangs and claws, another set of people shooting at everything that moved, and one Stiles Stilinski, holding a baseball bat and smiling. A few tumultuous hours later, she'd listened stonily as Scott did his best to explain things while applying pressure to the gunshot wound in her shoulder and Stiles methodically adjusted the scene to reflect the story he was dictating should be told by everyone.

One hunter had deviated from the story, theoretically supporting the fifth sheriff in her quest to find answers. Caught between what was being whispered in her ear and what she gleaned from Scott, the fifth sheriff made the mistake of finding the middle ground between them, the one thing they agreed on: blaming Derek Hale.

Within twelve hours of Derek being brought in and held for questioning, the sheriff's hunter lover was in FBI custody on multiple weapons charges, with more possible charges pending, and the fifth sheriff was implicated in facilitating the transfer of illegal weapons over state and national borders. The blood and DNA samples the fifth sheriff had forced to be taken during Derek's pre-detention medical screening were discovered to be too contaminated to use, lawsuits had been filed, and more than half of the officers on shift had called in sick.

"You fucked up," Stiles had told her when he came in, his hands empty and his clothes casual. "But you can still turn it around."

Maybe if she hadn't fallen so deeply in love with her hunter, she would have listened. If Stiles had had more time to prepare, maybe he would have been able to be more persuasive, or at least diplomatic. Definitely things would've gone better if he'd been able to get his dad to go talk to her, even if it would've meant Stiles was left talking to all the guys on the force that were spending their 'sick' day at a barbecue in the Stilinski back yard.

But, then again, the fifth sheriff thought it was a good idea to respond by threatening to arrest Stiles, so maybe not.

She had been politely asked to leave her position, and less politely invited to cooperate with the FBI into the investigation of her lover's ties to organized crime, before Stiles had finished checking his email as he sat in the police station lobby. Lingering let him give Derek a ride home when he was shortly released from custody without ever being formally arrested. The sincere, formal, and voluminous apologies delivered to Derek by the elected representatives of Beacon Hills carried more than a whiff of 'please don't sue,' and Stiles had to turn away to keep a straight face as Derek thanked them gravely for their commitment to justice.

The impression he had gotten was that they'd beg his dad to come back - they'd done it before, after all. Instead someone had the bright idea of appointing him to the job, anticipating his ten-year plan by at least eight years. Stiles had had to sit there and deal with it as his dad laughed himself sick.

And now, after six years of making damn sure his town was a safe place for all of its citizens, after everything he'd given up and everything he had lost, after a year of peace and calm, there were hunters trying to move back in.

"Sheriff?" One of the baby deputies peeked around the corner, both sets of eyelids blinking convulsively with nerves. "There's someone here to see you."

"Take five," Stiles said, putting the plaque back on his desk as he stood. "I'll speak to them."

There weren't many people in the station; Stiles was a big believer in having his officers out in the community as much as possible, and if it also kept the possibility of casualties down in case of an attack then all the better. That didn't stop all three deputies that were there, even the young naga, from making a point of having a clear line of sight to both Stiles and the visitor. "Alpha... Viel, isn't it? I hadn't been notified you were planning a visit."

"I wasn't aware I had to report my movements to the local law enforcement," the alpha said, still leaning against the wall in the waiting area and examining his fingernails. "This is America. Free country, or haven't you heard?"

"See, I was taught that good manners are important no matter where you are." Stiles swung open the pass-through, breaking the mountain ash line. "But, whatever, you're here now. Did you want to talk out here, or is my office okay?"

Extending one hand, the alpha tilted it from one side to the other, as if critiquing a manicure. "Do you get a lot of werewolves stupid enough to walk into a trap?"

Stiles shrugged and closed the station doors with a gesture. "You tell me, since you walked into someplace you can't walk out of just to have this conversation. I mean, I'm not all that interested in keeping you, but you asked."

"You think you're funny, don't you?" The alpha's claws came out and he lunged forward, laughing when Stiles flinched. "Now that, that was funny."

Waving to his deputies to get them to stand down, Stiles said, "Was there a point? Because I feel like I could probably deliver your lines from the script, and I have actual work to do."

"Does your script include the fact that I've got your pack?"

"It might surprise you to know that comes up a lot," Stiles said. "The only real question I have is whether you're working with the hunters that showed up or if they came here looking for you."

The alpha's smug smile fell and he lunged again, not feinting this time, only to be brought down before Stiles could even lift his hands defensively. His roar cut off with a crunching noise, and Stiles shuddered as something bounced off his foot. "Was that his fang? Did you break his fangs?"

"You're welcome," Derek said, still kneeling firmly on the alpha's back, one hand grinding his face against the floor. "Your dad said to tell you we're having quinoa casserole for dinner."

Stiles groaned. "You should never have told him about that spell I found to unclog his arteries. This reign of terror is endless."

"It would have taken a year off your life, if it didn't kill you," Derek said. "I regret nothing."

The alpha stopped trying to buck Derek off his back, and Stiles squatted down next to him while Derek yanked his head up. "So, you were saying something about my pack."

"They're dead," the alpha said, blood running down his chin. "You're all dead."

"Lydia's fine, she and her mom are at your house with your dad," Derek said, ignoring the alpha's muffled curses as he got pushed into the floor again. "I don't know about any of the others."

Shaking his head, Stiles said, "Bring him, he can go in the special cell while we check on everyone. And we've got hunters, by the way. Cora called in to let me know when they checked into the motel."

Derek grimaced. "I hate that place." It wasn't a new observation, but Stiles didn't feel the need to defend Cora's choice to buy and run the local no-tell establishment. Especially since it might've been partly, a little bit, due to Cora losing a bet with Stiles. Just a little bit, though.

They almost had the alpha in the cell, struggling and cursing, when the front doors blew open and distracted Derek's attention long enough to lose his grip. The alpha didn't waste any more time posturing, making a break for the closest window and ripping his claws through the deputy that happened to be in his way.

"Stop!" Scott's alpha roar did nothing to slow the retreating alpha, but it made Lewis hesitate in reaching for his radio to call for an ambulance. Derek was already kneeling next to Sams, discreetly assessing his injuries and applying his first aid training. Stiles tried to remember if there was anything supernatural about Sams that would require warning the hospital, but if there was he couldn't think of it.

Warning his people was the next priority. There were probably municipalities that did not have codes in place for supernatural shenanigans, but it hadn't made sense not to anticipate Beacon Hills being Beacon Hills. Scott was trying to demand answers, but only Lewis was paying attention to him; Stiles didn't have time to deal with it as he got a hold of Yang's shoulders, turning the naga to bring their eyes in contact. "Hey. You with us? Breathe, deep breaths, everything's fine now. You protected everyone as much as you could."

"I froze," Yang muttered, ducking his head. "Sams--"

"Will be fine," Stiles said. "And freezing was better than charging in."

The wail of the ambulance siren cut through the air and Stiles gave Yang a final nod with eye contact before moving to make sure the path was clear for the emergency crew to enter. Not for the first time, Stiles contemplated briefly whether kidnapping his dad would be a viable strategy for actually leaving Beacon Hills behind.

***

"Derek, do you think the spark is gone?"

Rolling his eyes, Derek joined Stiles where he was leaning on the hood of an anonymous dark blue Camry, significant mostly for how hard it would be to distinguish from the number of Toyotas on the street. "Stop trying to make 'Spark' happen. Deaton using a corny metaphor does not make 'Spark' a thing."

"Hey, it's a thing! It's my thing!" Stiles spread his arms and wriggled his fingers. "I didn't spend all those years in sparky magic school to be--"

"Austin Powers, really?" Derek's look of disdain would have crushed a lesser being. Luckily, Stiles was used to it.

"I need to use references old enough for you to get them, since you're practically a senior citizen." Stiles gave his best angelic smile. "Don't think I missed that you actually attended bingo last Sunday."

With a sigh, Derek said, "I go to bingo every Sunday, or did you forget that someone promised the Daughters of Thoth that we would attend to them on a regular basis?"

"Oh." Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, dislodging the collar of his plaid shirt. "I kinda wondered why they hadn't said anything, but I haven't had time to get to them."

"You can't do everything yourself," Derek said. "No matter how much you keep pretending that you can."

Sputtering, Stiles waved his arms around. "Dude! Not fair! I'm here specifically waiting for you, just so that I'm not going alone to deal with these assholes."

Derek's lips twitched. "And it only took how long to convince you not to go by yourself?"

"About as long as it took to realize I wouldn't end up having to stop to protect you." Stiles pushed himself off the hood and picked up the baseball bat that he'd leaned against the side of the car. "Although I'm still waiting for you to realize how sexy I am and agree to post-fight makeouts."

The flick of Derek's finger against the back of Stiles's neck was a brief sting, and a familiar one. "Focus."

"Right." Stiles climbed into the passenger seat, keeping one hand on his bat and the other near the release for his seatbelt. After a few minutes of driving in silence, he said, "I bet you five bucks that they ambush us on the blind curve behind Old Mill Road."

Derek took his eyes off the road long enough to glance at Stiles. "No bet. Except they may be smart enough to have one wait, pretend they're not working together so that they surprise us when the evil cavalry rushes in."

"Okay, one, the fact that you just said 'evil cavalry' turned me on just a little bit," Stiles said. "And you're totally right, they are absolutely that dramatic. Do you think we should stop early and, like, walk in? Do our own big show of 'ha HA, I am not alone!'"

The noise Derek made would've been called a huff by anyone who hadn't put the time in over the course of years to recognize it as a laugh. "You just don't want anyone to know you're driving to the scene of a crime in a sensible mid-size sedan."

"With an impeccable safety rating," Stiles said mournfully. "It's terrible."

"You'll live." The blind curve was coming up, and Derek slowed just enough to lock eyes with Stiles and share a brief nod before he gunned it around the corner. The spikes in the road made the car fishtail, but Derek's reflexes were good enough to keep the car on the road, pulling to a skidding stop just a few feet from the treeline.

Stiles stepped smoothly from the car, bat hanging loose in his grip. "You have no business in my town."

The hunter was just a little older than Derek, with hair that touched his collar and a brown leather jacket. Stiles had thought the man was a waste of oxygen when he'd read some of the reports from the official background check and the unofficial victim and witness statements from his hunting activities, but the fact that the man was tall and good-looking somehow made it worse.

"You're harboring fugitives," the hunter said, flashing a smile that made it clear he knew exactly how handsome he was. "Doesn't seem right, a lawman sheltering the lawless."

In a flat voice, completely free of inflection, Stiles said, "Oh, what a clever argument, I am undone."

"You think you're clever," the hunter said. "You got Brent all riled up - thanks for confirming you're a spellcaster, by the way, good to know - but you don't know as much as you think you do, and you're definitely not going to live to see morning."

"The only thing I don't know is why you're here," Stiles said, his grip on the bat tightening. "But I'm guessing you felt like destroying something beautiful."

The hunter smiled again. "Fight Club. Great movie."

"You'd be the type to think so." Stiles knocked the bat against the inside of his sneaker before bringing it up to his shoulder. "So, who goes first, do you go first?"

Raising a pistol he'd been holding in the shadows next to his leg, the hunter fired three shots directly to center mass. Stiles stood impassively as his protective spell took the impact that the kevlar didn't, preventing the shots from even bruising him. Whatever magical kryptonite the hunter thought he had, he either hadn't deployed it yet or it hadn't worked. "My turn." Stiles lifted the bat, dug a foot into the ground, and swung as if he was trying to send the hunter's jaw to the outfield.

The hunter had his own magical protection, but it wasn't enough; the crunch of teeth and bone was loud in the air as blood spattered onto the trees behind them. "I'd say you could still leave, but that's not an option," Stiles said, swinging the bat again, this time at the hunter's stomach. "You can still live long enough to go to prison, if you surrender very quickly."

More shots rang out, one coming close enough that it tore through the shoulder of the overshirt Stiles was wearing. Turning his head slowly from one side to the other, Stiles felt a coldness rise inside him, creeping over him and lifting the corners of his lips. "Evil cavalry's here. Let's see how that goes."

Five targets, closing in to surround him; his own backup lurking in the darkness and making sure no more surprises were hiding in reserve. Cover fire for the sixth and primary target to escape. Car behind him, partial shield, but also a risk if someone thought to light up the gas tank. Moving quickly, Stiles broke the main hunter's shoulder with a strong sweep of his bat before seizing his neck, holding him up long enough to block two shots before throwing him down towards the trees.

"Down," he heard, but he'd already stooped to pick up the hunter's gun and just turned his head to see Derek fly past, half shifted and running a few steps on all fours before throwing himself in the air and landing in full wolf form with his fangs buried in a hunter's bicep. He always tried to avoid tearing out throats during a fight but it might not matter; the chunk gouged out of the attacker's arm was bleeding so heavily that the man might not make it to the 'ask questions' portion of the night.

Lifting his arm, Stiles listened to his own breath whistling in and out of his chest as if traveling through a huge, empty cavern. One shot, two shots, pause and fire again, shift stance and fire again. Three targets now, with three down, and Stiles was still calm as the coldness blanketed everything except the calculations needed to get through the fight.

The alpha roared, leaping to the top of the car and flashing his eyes red as he looked down at Stiles. After a flicker of a glance, Stiles turned away from him, concentrating on the two hunters still firing in his direction. The alpha wasn't a threat worth thinking about, because Derek was already charging, a blur of black fur and blue eyes dripping a trail of blood from his flashing teeth.

"I'm still willing to let you live," Stiles said, not bothering to raise his voice. "Limited time offer, one time only."

He waited, his head tilted and a faint, pleasant smile on his face, until the crack of another gunshot rang out. He was tired enough that he brought his left hand up, palm flat out, to support with the gesture the spell to stop the bullet that had been aimed at his forehead. It fell to the ground and he shrugged, stretching his arms out before returning fire with the last of the bullets in the gun he'd held onto. "Okay, death it is."

Leisurely, Stiles moved to the closest downed hunter and stepped on the man's hand before taking his weapon and the fresh clip he'd been trying to load. With a wink, Stiles said, "Ah-ah, no trying to be sneaky. Either you're down or you're dead."

"Fuck you!" The hunter was struggling to get off the ground and Stiles allowed it, using the time to slam the clip in place and take the shot to eliminate the next closest target, peering out of the brush cover to attempt another attack and instead getting a neat hole between his eyes for his trouble.

The hunter at his feet managed to get a knife in his hand, lunging towards Stiles with one last burst of strength. Stiles just sidestepped and ended him with a shot to the back of the head, attention momentarily caught by the fight between the werewolves. The alpha had Derek pinned in a canine restraint position, and the coldness in Stiles flickered as he wondered whether the man had veterinary experience. It didn't last long; Derek shifted back to human form and threw the alpha to the ground in a crack of broken bones, and Stiles still had business to attend to.

The one hunter left standing wasn't firing, and Stiles moved to where the leader was rolling on the ground, clutching his broken arm and yelling for his men as best he could through broken teeth and a fractured jaw. Crouching next to him, Stiles pulled the man's backup piece from his ankle holster and placed it in his left hand. "There you go. Sporting chance, right? Can't just kill you if you're helpless - then I'd be just like you!"

"Except, no," Stiles said, standing up. "Because I didn't hunt you down. I didn't go to your home, I didn't set up an ambush for you, and I sure as fuck didn't decide to devote my life to the pursuit of genocide by targeting the most peaceful, helpless people I could find."

The cold and emptiness drained away as Stiles stood and lifted his gun. The hunter dropped the smaller gun Stiles had given him and started pleading, but Stiles fired before he could manage more than one word.

A howl behind him made Stiles turn around, just in time to see the alpha lunge at Derek, fangs bared. Stiles raised the gun, feeling shaky and almost too tired to lift it, but it wasn't necessary; Derek sidestepped smoothly and took hold of the alpha's hair, using it to pull his head back and expose his neck. The arterial spray shot over Derek's claws as he dug deep into the dying alpha's throat, almost as red as the glow overtaking the blue in Derek's eyes.

"There's one unaccounted for," Stiles said, because he'd trained himself so well on prioritizing threats that it was the first of the thousand thoughts in his mind that coalesced into speech.

Jerking his head to one side, Derek said, "Pissed himself back there. Hasn't moved since."

Stiles sighed. "Come out here. If I have to go find you, it won't end well."

"There's one on the ground that might make it," Derek said. "I'll need your shirt."

With a quick glance over Derek's naked, blood-spattered body, Stiles handed the overshirt over. "Yeah, it's a bit chilly out."

"Or I could make bandages." The last hunter crept out of the treeline, white-faced and shaky. Derek sighed as he headed to help the wounded hunter. "They get younger every year."

"Because we're getting old," Stiles said, although the hunter really was a kid. "Jesus, what are you, twelve?"

Shaking his head, the kid said, "Sixteen."

It was enough to make Stiles feel a rush of sympathy which drained the last of his energy and the chill of battle from his system, leaving a welter of confusion where there had been a clear emptiness. "Didn't anybody tell you to be home early on school nights?"

"Werewolves killed my mom and dad," the kid said. "These guys killed the werewolves, said I could help other people. Then we came here."

"Aw, crap." Dropping the gun, Stiles retrieved his baseball bat and ended up using it as a cane when it became apparent that something had turned his ankle into a mass of pain at some point while the adrenaline and emptiness had kept him from feeling it. The kid didn't move throughout, not even when Stiles sank down on the front bumper of the Camry and rested both hands on top of the bat to help himself stay upright. "So, hi, I'm Stiles Stilinski. I'm the sheriff around here, and I don't take kindly to people coming to town and planning to murder people."

Frowning, the kid said, "But--"

"I'm going to stop you there," Stiles said, holding a hand up and then putting it back on the bat when the kid flinched. "The next thing out of your mouth is probably going to piss me off, and I'm tired, so. First off, werewolves are people. Second, while some werewolves are murderous fu-- jerks, so are some humans." Stiles gestured to the hunters on the ground, including the one Derek was stabilizing.

"I've heard swearing before," the kid muttered, but Stiles ignored the comment in favor of continuing.

"Thirdly." Stiles had to pause for a moment before he could remember where he'd been going with that. "If I can handle things legally, I will. I offered the chance to surrender and be arrested, and I didn't kill anybody that didn't try to kill me first - but I'm not about to be stupid enough to let someone live who's just going to come back and try to kill me again."

The kid went paler, which Stiles wouldn't have bet was possible, and stood up so straight that it made Stiles ache in his lower back just to look at him. "So you're going to kill me?"

"What? No, weren't you listening? You didn't try to kill me, I don't kill you." It only relaxed the kid a little bit, but it would have to be enough. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you, but death is currently off the table."

A shot rang out, making them both flinch, and they both turned to see Derek, still stark naked, holding a pale hunter in the air by the neck. The hunter was trying to break his hold with one hand, the other covered in blood dripping from the wound that Derek had bandaged with the ripped up plaid shirt. "Where's the fucking gratitude, I ask you? That was my favorite shirt!"

"It was an eyesore," Derek said, still easily holding the hunter as he tried scratching and kicking his way to freedom. "What do you want to do with this one?"

"Check him for any more weapons and then bring him here," Stiles said. "If he wants to die, he can off himself after he's answered some questions."

This earned him an epic bitchface from Derek, who threw the hunter to the ground in front of where Stiles sat. "They never answer questions."

"I hardly ever get to ask," Stiles pointed out. "There's wipes in the trunk, clean up a bit before you get your clothes back on."

"You clean up," Derek muttered, but disappeared behind the car anyway.

Stiles waited quietly while the hunter cursed and blustered, although he noted with interest that the kid flinched away from him and circled around to get Stiles and the car between himself and the injured hunter. At length, the hunter got himself to his feet and faced up to Stiles, holding his injured arm and looking around the small clearing. "You won't get away with this."

"Me?" Stiles tilted his head in confusion, looking from side to side as if he was on The Office or there would be someone there who could confirm what he just heard. "Are you serious right now?"

"You're building up this underworld empire, providing sanctuary for all sorts of vermin just to build an army - we're on to you." The hunter lifted his chin defiantly. "Jeff had a crappy plan, but he had the right idea, and there's others. We'll be back, and next time we'll kill you."

Scratching the back of his neck, Stiles thought about what the guy was saying. "So what you're saying is, your group went off half-cocked because you guys thought I was getting too powerful by, what, allowing people to live somewhere without having to be afraid for their lives 24/7?"

"Fuck you," the hunter said, even as he swayed and half staggered from the blood loss. "I am one, but I represent legions."

Stiles watched him as he fell slowly forward, eyes fluttering. "You realize that quote is about demons, right? You just pretty much used your last words to say hunters are demons."

The hunter twitched as if trying to get up again, but fell unconscious without managing it. His breath was becoming shallower as the bandage around his arm finished unraveling and blood seeped out. "So, Derek? Kid? Anyone feel like heroic measures? Because I'm tired, and he tried to kill me."

"It's too late anyway," Derek said, coming back around the car as he pulled a t-shirt down over his head. "If we'd gotten him to the hospital for a transfusion before he tried to shoot me, maybe. Since he wouldn't even let me stop the blood loss, he basically killed himself already."

Sidling along to peer around the car, the kid said, "He was a creepy fucker. Jeff was talking once about the birth rate and I asked if he meant, like, sterilizing, and Chase laughed and said direct extermination was quicker."

"And you didn't think to question that at all?"

"Did you say this guy's name was Chase?"

Derek and Stiles spoke at the same time, then exchanged a glance that had Derek raising his eyebrows and Stiles shrugging. "Kid in a cult doesn't question the cult, especially if there's guns. But, dude." With a wave to the corpse, Stiles said, "He was a hunter named Chase. It's kind of hilarious."

"There is something seriously wrong with you," Derek said, rubbing a hand over his face. "Your sense of humor isn't twisted, it's a spiral."

"Don't front, you love it." Stiles moved to stand up and then winced when pain shot up his leg. "Okay, not doing that. You're on body duty, I'm going to hop along into the car and start the paperwork."

Derek frowned and picked Stiles up, carrying him to the back seat before kneeling to inspect his ankle. "It's probably just sprained, but you'll need an x-ray."

"I just want a shower and my bed," Stiles whined. "Can't I deal with it tomorrow?"

"No, because you'll try to use magic to heal it and make yourself worse." Carefully, Derek helped him maneuver himself into the car with his ankle propped up, then tossed a package of wet wipes at his face as soon as he was settled. "Try to clean up. We'll go as soon as I get the bodies out of sight of the road."

"Love you too, boo!" Stiles chuckled as Derek gave him the finger without turning around, even if there was a slightly bitter edge to the humor. He settled down to cleaning off his hands and wiping his face, only to jump when a throat was noisily cleared from just next to him. "Holy crap, kid, you scared me!"

With a shrill laugh, the kid said, "I scared you?"

Stiles dragged a thumb over his mouth, trying to hide the laugh trying to escape. "Fighting is different. If I'm not in a fight, I don't need to be all..." He trailed off with a gesture towards his own face and the night outside the car.

"Scary as shit stone cold killer?"

"I was going more for hyper-focused, but okay." Gesturing to the front passenger seat, Stiles said, "Go ahead, sit down. You might as well ride with us to town while we figure out what to do with you."

Gingerly, the kid slid into the seat and even buckled his seatbelt. Stiles was starting to get fluffy kitten feelings about this child, which was going to be a hell of a thing to explain to his dad. "I don't really have a place to go? Jeff was my foster dad."

"And isn't that a scathing indictment of the entire foster system." Stiles sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, then grimaced and deployed a new wet wipe. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Noah. Noah Kowalski." The kid started to reach back to shake hands, but got tangled in the seatbelt and then pulled back after Stiles pulled the filthy wipe away from the half of his face he'd managed to clean. "Uh. I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but..."

Nodding, Stiles said, "No, totally understandable. Stiles Stilinski, I don't remember if I said. Noah is my dad's middle name. He's still the one everybody calls Sheriff Stilinski - everybody ends up calling me Sheriff Stiles, it's kind of a thing."

The kid didn't seem to know what to do with that, just gave a small "ah" before they fell into an awkward quiet. Finally, just as Stiles could feel the river of babble reach his lips and threaten to burst forth, Noah said, "So how long have you and that guy been together?"

Stiles choked on thin air and the words that jammed up on his tongue as his brain rebooted. "You-- he-- wha?"

"Sorry!" The kid retreated into himself like a turtle. "I was just, you know, never mind, it's not my business, I'm sorry I asked!"

With a small cough, Stiles said, "No, it's whatever, we're just not - we're not like that."

Over the years, Stiles had been the target of all sorts of pointed looks, but somehow the one Noah gave him just then managed to combine the distilled platonic ideals of all them - pity, condescension, disbelief, amusement, and indulgence were all represented in this sixteen year old's judgmental stare. "You don't have to pretend, it's not like I'm homophobic or anything. You even just said you love him."

"Lots of people joke around saying things like that," Stiles said. "And, anyway, he barely puts up with me. He'd never be-- he'd never want--" Breaking off, Stiles cleared his throat. "Anyway, yeah, nothing like that."

"It could be! He's totally into you, it's obvious!" Noah's eyes were sparkling now as he turned around in his seat to look directly at Stiles for the first time. "You could just tell him how you feel, or, or, I could help you set up, like, a super romantic atmosphere and--"

"Kid! Seriously?" Stiles kind of regretted crushing Noah's enthusiasm as he hunched in on himself again, but no way was he indulging any matchmaking delusions from a child that had probably shot at him. That way lay madness, and trying to sing along to Adele while under the influence of alcohol and/or sugar. "No Parent Trap moments, okay? Derek doesn't need to deal with that."

Crossing his arms and facing forward, Noah said, "Whatever. It's not like I care about a werewolf and some hick sheriff who murders people."

"Says the kid who--" Stiles cut himself off with an internal reminder that he was supposed to be an adult. "I've got some calls to make."

He'd barely gotten his phone out when Derek slid into the driver's seat and started the car. "I already got a hold of Parrish. Your dad's going to meet us at the hospital to take temporary custody of Noah."

"Hey, how'd you know my name? And you can just drop me off at the bus station, I'll get home by myself."

Derek made some sort of answer, but Stiles couldn't hear it over the blaring alarms in his head repeating "you fucked up, you fucked up, you seriously fucked up" in ever-increasing volume. Not only was Derek a werewolf, he was an alpha again - he'd probably heard every word they'd said, especially since he would've wanted to monitor Stiles for any signs of pain or discomfort, because that was the kind of caring, considerate asshole that had made Stiles fall in love with him. There was no way things wouldn't be weird now.

Or, maybe? What exactly had he said? Stiles racked his brain to try to remember the exact phrasing he'd used, wondering if maybe there was a chance of playing it off. Had he actually, out loud, admitted that he was hopelessly in love with Derek? He couldn't remember.

They pulled to a stop, Stiles barely noticing the lack of noise from the engine, until his dad opened the door across from him and leaned his head in. "Hey, kiddo, you okay?"

"There's many kinds of love! Love doesn't just have to be romantic!"

His dad paused for barely a moment. "Okay. So, I'm going to let you talk about that with Derek while you get your leg looked at. Good to know you're doing okay."

Hitting his head against the back of the seat in front of him seemed like an excellent idea. It was unfortunately too well-padded to knock him out, and so he was fully awake and aware as Derek helped him out of the car and kept an arm around him for support as Stiles limped his way into the ER. "Okay, Mr. Cassidy, slow down. You're overdoing it."

Stiles gave him a look of blank incomprehension, and Derek's ears turned faintly pink. "Hopalong Cassidy? Your dad's childhood hero? There's a poster in his office, Stiles, you've got to have noticed it."

"I never paid attention to Dad's westerns," Stiles said. "Are we there yet? This is kind of a little excruciating."

As he should have fully expected, Derek just swept him up and carried him the rest of the way into the ER, depositing him gently into a wheelchair the triage nurse provided. He was promptly whisked off for poking, prodding, and intense questioning about the state of his health insurance despite the fact that Scott's mom had made him a "frequent customer" card for the hospital years ago. By the time they delivered him back to the waiting room with a bandage, a boot, a prescription, and a stern lecture about not putting any weight on his ankle, he half thought that Derek might have left to deal with the fallout of the rest of the night.

Only half, though, because it was still Derek, so of course he was sitting in a horrible plastic chair, pretending to be asleep while the other people waiting to be seen watched him with wariness or fascination. Stiles suppressed a sigh, because, well, same. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty. I'm about to turn into a pumpkin."

"Stop mixing fairy tales," Derek said, stretching as he stood. "And it was the carriage that was a pumpkin, so unless you're giving out ri-- No."

On any other day, Stiles would've had about fifteen 'jokes' in a row about giving Derek a ride. For now, though, he waved a hand and said, "Too easy. Just take me home."

Derek's lips twitched, but he didn't say anything as he left to get his car, the anonymous Camry having been driven away to be cleaned and hidden away again in the depths of the impound lot. The Camaro might not have had room for him to sit in the back and stretch his foot out, but he had both standards and pain medicine. They'd make it the five minutes it took to reach the Stilinski house.

Or even the ten minutes it took to get to Derek's apartment. "This is a lot nicer than my usual kidnappings."

"You just need a better lair to take people to," Derek said. "Having to take people you've kidnapped to your dad's house really limits your potential."

"Oh, ha ha." Stiles crossed his arms and pouted as he was swept once again into Derek's (strong, dependable, sexy) arms. "Living with family is a valid life choice and a cultural norm for most societies."

Derek smirked. "Sure, Stiles. Remind me again, who made snide comments for a solid week about the Henderson pack?"

"Okay, no, there's living with family and then there's whatever sister wives, dear leader culty bullshit was going on there." Stiles relaxed into the couch as soon as Derek set him down, letting himself sink into the perfect squishiness of it. "Seriously, I am going to steal this couch someday. It's like laying down on a cloud that can hug you."

"You can have it," Derek said, sounding unusually serious. "You can have anything you want that I can give you."

Cracking an eye open let Stiles see that Derek was sitting on the coffee table, directly in front of Stiles and looking... Stiles couldn't define how he looked, just that it made him breathless and he had to close his eyes again to try to get his own heart under control. "I don't need pity."

"Good, because I don't have any," Derek said.

Stiles hauled himself to a sitting position, facing Derek and the music. "You heard the kid talking about us being together."

"I did." Derek's face was impassive, but there was so much emotion in his eyes that Stiles couldn't bear to look at him even as he couldn't tear his eyes away. "I also heard you tell him it was because I wouldn't want it."

"Didn't I also say something about people joking--"

All of the words Stiles knew dried up and disappeared when Derek took hold of both his hands, cradling them gently. "It's okay. If you were joking, if you didn't mean it that way... I don't expect anything from you."

"Okay," was a harsh, croaking whisper, all that Stiles could manage as years of half-formed hopes were crushed and died with one simple sentence. "Okay, that's fine."

Derek's eyes swept down and Stiles started to pull his hands away, but Derek held on. "No, Stiles, you don't-- You're under no obligation, if you're just joking or you really just love me as a friend, that's enough, I won't pressure you or talk about this again. That's... Whatever you want, that's what I want."

It turned out hope wasn't dead, but it hurt. "You-- what are you saying?"

"I'm saying... I guess I'm saying that I'm in love with you." Derek let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing like shedding a weight even before tightening to brace for a blow. "And that you don't have to love me back the same way."

This time it was Stiles clinging to Derek's hands, preventing him from moving away. "What if I want to?"

Derek flinched. "I don't need pity either."

"Good," Stiles said, still not letting go. "Because we are super compatible. There is no pity here. None at all. We're kind of a little famous for it."

"So we're repeating things now? That's what we're doing?" Derek arched an eyebrow, but stopped trying to pull his hands back. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'm in love with you, too," Stiles said. "Asshole. Do you know how long I've been in love with you? And you're here--"

Stiles glared over the hand that Derek put over his mouth, but Derek just smiled. "Now, I could let you keep talking, since I know you like that. I could stand to hear a little about how long you've loved me, since it might make me feel a bit better about how long I've been in love with you."

He stopped there, waiting, while Stiles practically vibrated with curiosity. Curiosity and rage. And maybe some anticipation. A lot of anticipation. "Or?"

"Or you could sit in my lap and we could make out. Just a little." Derek's smile was everything sinful and tempting. "Or, now that I know you actually mean it, a lot."

"Oh, I mean it. I mean it very hard." Stiles was scrambling to try to reach Derek, but somehow not making any headway. The problem was solved by Derek lifting him up and arranging them so that Stiles was not just comfortably situated on Derek's lap, his (mildly) fractured foot was supported by some pillows and the arm of the couch. "I never really knew I had a manhandling kink until now."

Derek's eyes flashed red, just for a moment. "I did."

That statement needed to be explored, because one of them owed the other a shitload of teasing over it and Stiles was pretty sure he could work out how to be the one dishing it out. On the other hand, Derek's alpha eyes went straight to the danger = hot kink he was already well acquainted with, and he'd been expressly invited to make sexual advances on the man of his dreams. Priorities were important.

Kissing Derek was a revelation, better than he'd ever dreamed it could be, because he'd never imagined the noises Derek made, could never have anticipated the electricity of Derek moving softly, desperately against him. Stiles was allowed to touch, allowed to run his fingers through Derek's hair, allowed to lose himself and moan and grind and laugh a little at himself and at Derek, because he'd forgotten about his stupid ankle and having Derek jump up and growl while still holding Stiles against his erection was just funny.

It was okay, because this was Derek, and Derek knew him. The mood wasn't gone just because Stiles had laughed, or because Derek had snorted and rolled his eyes, making Stiles laugh harder. Instead it was part of it, part of them, and they would be okay. "I love you. I do, I love you, because you're amazing and you, you're mine."

"I like the sound of that." Derek lifted Stiles so his legs went around Derek's waist and his back was to the wall, holding him up and kissing the hell out of him until he couldn't think. "I'm yours."

"Damn right," Stiles panted, giving a light tug to Derek's hair. "And you're going to stay mine. Right?"

They were in the bedroom before Stiles could think coherently again, and Derek was looking just smug enough that Stiles licked his lips and waited only for Derek to finish undressing before beckoning him closer, close enough that Stiles could nip his earlobe and whisper hotly, "After we fuck the wildness out of our system, we can make love nice and slow. I'll kiss you when you cry afterward. We'll deal with the rest of the world sometime tomorrow, or maybe the day after."

"Priorities," Derek murmured, dragging a claw over Stiles with just enough pressure to cut through his clothes without harming the skin underneath.

"Okay," Stiles said, unbearably turned on and fairly certain he was going to combust. "Maybe the day after that. We'll have time."

[when-they-write-stuff]

can you do "Can we please pretend I never said that?" if your still doing prompts? love your blog xx

Stiles heard something somewhere. 

Something about rising and falling into love. That you don’t ‘rise into love’ but you ‘fall into it’. There’s no moving upward, there’s no ‘head in the clouds’. There was just falling. Falling head over heels, taking that step off the edge of the cliff, accepting the impending doom of bottom where there’s no more rush of the drop.

The idea of the fall. God, what a cliche. But Stiles thought it had to start somewhere.

It wasn’t big like in the movies.

The first time Stiles realized he might be in love with Derek Hale, it was long after the fight with the latest monster of the week. Stiles had stayed in the back with Lydia, but he was always ready to move forward. To hell with Derek’s warning of “Don’t do anything stupid” because the moment the omega had clawed Derek across the back and the man’s roar had cut through the air, Stiles had nearly gone feral too.

But he didn't. Then Isaac ripped out the omega's throat, Scott rushed to Allison’s side, Lydia rushed to Jackson’s, and Stiles continued to stand on the sidelines, baseball bat held loosely in his hand. He watched Derek without thinking about it, eyes following as the man moved over to his own pack and carefully checked them up and down.

Gentle fingers traced over the back of Erica’s neck and combed through Isaac’s hair. Boyd had been hurt the worst of the three and Derek took some of his pain as the beta’s open wound stitched itself back together ever so slowly.

There were still bloody marks across Derek’s chest. His shirt was hanging on in tatters but he paid it no attention. Only when Boyd was climbing slowly to his feet, pulling Erica close, did Derek glance down at himself.

Then grey-green eyes snapped up to where Stiles stood. Derek’s eyes searched Stiles up and down and the man nodded quietly before turning away. Stiles swallowed hard and turned away too, plodding in the silence back toward his jeep. He wasn't even sure where Scott had gone.

The clearing was empty when he glanced back.

He probably should have expected the window to open up much later that night, but Stiles would like to say he never expected anything Derek Hale did. He startled so hard he nearly flailed out of bed and Derek froze, one leg inside Stiles’s bedroom and one still outside of it.

Stiles groaned, rubbing at his eyes.

“Dude, Sourwolf, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Stiles blinked a few times, pretty sure he’d heard that wrong. But then Derek carefully pulled himself all the way into the room and glanced at Stiles almost nervously, before leaning closer and taking a small sniff. His face did something weird.

“Scott hasn’t been here tonight.”

“Uh, no, dude. He went home with Allison, as usual. Is something up?”

“Scott should have checked in on you.”

Stiles looked at him for a long moment and then chuckled humorlessly, running a hand through his hair. “Hey, nothing against Scotty-boy, big guy, but I’m totally fine! See, one-hundred percent still in one piece. Trust me, if I’d been anything but, I would have been making a big fuss by now.”

Derek still didn’t look satisfied. In fact, he almost looked unsettled. Stiles decided this was way more than he’d expected tonight to go and he nervously picked at his covers. He was only sleeping in his boxers, dammit. And he’d decided to skip showering tonight.

“So, is there anything else I can do, or…?”

“No,” Derek said, stepping back. He still didn’t look content. “No, I’ll go.”

For a moment, there were a million different things on Stiles’s tongue. Like maybe he could call him back. Invite him downstairs for a late-night snack or something. But that was stupid, right? Derek had come here because… well, Stiles wasn’t sure exactly he'd come. But it wasn’t like Derek wanted to stick around.

The man still glanced back one more time. Then he nodded and ducked out of the window again. 

And Stiles was left picking at his covers in the silence.

-

The first time Stiles showed up to Derek’s loft with a black eye and split lip, he was pretty sure the man was about to kill someone. The thing is, Stiles hadn’t actually expected to show up with a black eye and split lip, but then he pissed off the wrong hunters and ended up calling Scott a few times before giving up and dragging himself to Derek’s loft instead.

Stiles honestly thought the man was going to kill someone. And he was a little terrified that someone might end up being him.

Except, Derek didn’t seem upset about the hunters. He seemed upset about Stiles.

Stiles would like to say he knew what to do with that realization, but that would be a total lie. As Derek studied his face and growled, the betas watching silently from the couch, Stiles honestly had no idea what to do.

“Derek, dude, I’m fine. Really.”

Derek flat out ignored him, turning toward his betas. “Go track down the hunters and make sure they know not to step foot into Beacon Hills again. Understand?”

Boyd silently nodded, nudging the other two up. Carefully fingers ghosted over the back of Stiles’s neck as the betas left and the moment the door closed, Derek was turning toward the kitchen.

Stiles just stood there feeling like an idiot. Because this was the last thing he had expected. Ever.

“Derek, seriously. It's nothing bad. Like, at all.”

Derek came back out with an unimpressed expression on his face and a first aid kit in his hand. Stiles blinked at it, studying the man’s face, and then Derek pointed him toward the couch. Slowly, Stiles moved to comply.

“So, uh, a first aid kit?”

Derek’s face didn’t betray a thing. He sat Stiles down and then popped it open, pulling out a few cotton swabs and a container of something clear. Stiles smelled chemicals and winced.

“Oh no, that's gonna hurt. Seriously, dude, I’m fine.”

“Just stay still, Stiles.” 

Normally, Stiles would probably agree to disagree and maybe make this as difficult for Derek as possible. But instead, he went still and found himself watching Derek work instead. The man looked far less angry and far more concerned, and Stiles didn’t know what to do with the pit in his stomach at that. Grey-green eyes searched Stiles’s face and Derek carefully reached forward.

“Where was Scott?”

This time, when Stiles winced, it was for a different reason. “I dunno. Out?”

“How did this happen?”

“I got jumped leaving the station a couple of hours ago,” Stiles said quietly. “But really, dude, it’s fine. I couldn’t get an answer from his phone so I figured I’d come here instead—”

“Not the hospital?”

“Dude, it’s a few bruises and cuts. I’m not going to the hospital for that.”

Derek clenched his jaw, eyes flashing, but didn’t protest that. Instead, he dabbed a damp cotton swap against Stiles’s check and looked a little angry again when Stiles flinched. But Stiles still didn’t think it was aimed at him. Which was… confusing, right?

Maybe he should have just taken care of this himself.

“Listen,” Stiles said, catching Derek’s wrist and starting to push himself up. “I have a first aid kit at home too. I didn’t mean— I should have gone there. I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening, dude.”

Derek blinked at him. Stiles tried to duck around the man but then Derek was pulling him back and sitting him right back down. Stiles stared dumbly at the man’s face.

“Dude—”

“Don’t call me dude.”

“Derek—”

“Just shut up, Stiles,” Derek said, although he sounded more exasperated than anything. “Shut up and let me take care of you.”

And  oh. Stiles thought maybe he should say something else but he just closed his mouth and focused on the wall over Derek’s shoulder instead, trying not to shiver at every careful touch. Because this wasn’t a thing. He was totally not overthinking this.

This was Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski. It was pack stuff and that was all. Stiles swallowed hard and concentrated on the wall until Derek finally have him a soft look and announced himself done. 

And then Stiles hightailed it out as fast as he could.

-

“I’m just saying,” Stiles said, gesturing his hands out uselessly. As if that would somehow help his argument. “Remember that one thing about orange and blue? Colors? T-shirts? All of that stuff? Well, maybe it makes a little more sense than it had three years ago now and—”

“Stiles,” Lydia said, cutting him off. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I do,” Jackson said, looking bored. Stiles startled, having nearly forgotten the asshole had been hanging around, and his heart thudded even harder when Jackson smirked. “Stilinski is in love with our Alpha.”

Stiles blinked once. Twice. Then he quickly shook his head. “I am not.”

“Oh my god,” Lydia said. “You are.”

“I am not!”

Jackson didn’t look impressed. “I can literally hear you lying, idiot.”

“Okay, that’s not fair! That’s not abiding by normal human rules. I call a sham. I call sham!”

“You can’t call a sham.”

“Yeah, well, I just did. Asshole.”

Jackson only rolled his eyes and pushed himself up, wandering back out of the kitchen. Stiles looked at Lydia pleadingly, as if she could somehow tell his idiotic brain to stop pining for grumpy-growly red-eyed werewolves, but Lydia just pursed her lips. She gave him a sympathetic look before standing too, following Jackson out.

Stiles sat in the silence feeling a little bit like an idiot. And since when did Jackson actually know or listen to him?

Then he heard the sound of the loft door opening, closing, and promptly cursed.

See, Stiles was pretty sure if his brain had decided to actively work against him, he could never come back to the loft again. Because Derek was so totally going to rip his throat out. Or his head off. Or maybe take one look at him, listen to his panicked beating heart, and decide that Stiles was officially kicked out of the pack.

Or something.

The point is… stiles wasn’t good at keeping things quiet. Or small. In high school, when he’d officially decided he was in love with Lydia Martin, he went to her house with a boombox. That hadn’t worked out well at all and Stiles was pretty sure things had just gone downhill from there.

So maybe, maybe, if he stayed far away from Derek Hale, he could go without embarrassing himself. Ever.

That all took a plunge off the nearest cliff when Derek came into the kitchen.

Stiles startled so hard, he almost fell off the stool. Derek paused, raising an eyebrow, and Stiles thought he would feel much safer if not for freaking werewolf super senses. That wasn’t safe at all. In fact, no part of this loft was safe at all right now.

A dozen things fell from his mouth as Stiles pushed himself up, grabbing his backpack and laptop, but then Derek was stepping in front of him before Stiles could escape out the door. The man looked confused.

“Stiles, what’s wrong with you?”

“Wrong with who? With me? Nothing’s wrong! Nothing’s wrong, ever, and I really need to get going.”

“Do you have somewhere to be?”

“No. I mean yes! I have many places to be. Many, many places.”

Derek actually looked concerned now and Stiles was certain that wasn’t good for anyone. He tried ducking around Derek again but the man stepped in front of every escape he tried to make. Stiles growled in frustration, giving the man a flat look, and meant to say something useful. Something like ‘get out of the freaking way, Sourwolf.’ 

But instead, all that came out was, “There’s this thing. The idea of the fall.”

Nope, that wasn’t right.

Derek gave him an odd look and Stiles cursed, trying to just manhandle his way by. But he was one-hundred and forty-seven pounds of pale skin and fragile bone, and Derek was a werewolf. He’d never really had a chance.

Stiles still tried. And then somehow found himself backed up against the counter.

“Derek—”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Stiles said, looking anywhere but his face. Or chest. Or maybe just— “Nothing at all. Can I go, please?”

“Really, Stiles?”

“I just… Can we please pretend I never said that? Like, any of that. Like anything. Ever. In my life. I don’t know what you’re talking about Derek, I’m not in love with you!"

Oh. Nope. That wasn’t right either.

Derek straightened, looking at him with wide eyes, and Stiles kind of wished it was possible to melt into the floor. Instead, he just stared miserably at his feet and waited for the inevitable. The coming ‘get out of my loft’ that was bound to happen. Except, the inevitable never came.

Slowly, he glanced back up. And Derek didn’t look like anything but relieved.

“God, Stiles. Finally.”

Had he— Stiles had missed something. He’d missed so many things. 

He was pretty sure he was staring with a mouth half-hanging open and Derek carefully pulled his backpack and laptop from his hands. Setting them aside, gentle hands moved to cup Stiles face and yup, he’d died. But then the man rolled his eyes and Stiles promptly realized he’d mumbled all of that out loud, clamping his mouth shut with a burning face.

"I didn't say anything."

“Yes, you did. And Stiles, you’re not dead.”

“Are you sure about that, big guy? Cause I might have died. I might be dead right now. Can this be heaven? Because I’d be so fine with this being heaven.”

“You’re not dead, Stiles.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, the words coming out squeaky. “I’m dreaming then?”

Derek shook his head, thumb brushing over Stiles’s cheek. And maybe this was a hallucination instead. Was it a possible hallucination?

“You tell me,” Derek said. “If this feels like a hallucination.”

Stiles blinked at him, brain stalling for a second. And then the man’s lips were on his own and Stiles’s brain logged fully offline. Stiles.exe had stopped working. Possibly for the next few hours or so. Possibly forever.

Because Derek Hale was kissing him. Derek Hale was kissing him and this was real. Stiles felt like the floor had opened up beneath his feet and he was falling.

There was something he’d heard once. Something about rising and falling into love. That you don’t ‘rise into love’ but you ‘fall into it’. There’s no moving upward, there’s no ‘head in the clouds’. There was just falling. Falling head over heels, taking that step off the edge of the cliff, accepting the impending doom of bottom where there’s no more rush of the drop.

There was just falling. The idea of the fall. Stiles thought it had to start somewhere. 

And at the same time, he thought the bottom might not be so much of an impending doom. Not as much as realizing that maybe, maybe, Derek Hale was falling right alongside him.

God, what a cliche.

- -

Okay, so I had so much fun with this prompt! I didn’t know where I wanted to take it at first, but I’m kinda happy with how it came out. Thanks so much for the prompt, nonnie!

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[doingthewritething]

Churro-Boy

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Besides a curse word here and there and some awkward fluff, nothing much

A/N: I don’t know where this idea came from but I definitely took some inspiration from a churro I ate earlier

word count: 1.8k

“Mom,” I said banging my hand against the trunk of our parked car, “MOM!” 

After school, my mother and I went grocery shopping, and I was currently trying to get her attention from the back of the car to the front seat where she was happily chatting away to god knows who on the phone. When my mom talks on the phone, it seems as though she never stops talking, and it’s almost impossible for me to get her attention. 

My mother huffed from the front seat and pulled the switch that opened the trunk.

“Thank you,” I muttered to myself.

I pulled the trunk all the way up and began to formulate a plan to get most -if not all- of the bags out of the car. Ya girl is not taking more than one trip to the eighth floor of this apartment building.   

As I started loading multiple bags on each arm, my mom finally decided to step out of the car and help me.

“Ok. Uh huh,” my mother laughed, “Yeah, okay, bye now! Mmhm, of course! Bye bye now, bye.”

“I lost count of how many times you said ‘bye’,” I joked to my mom as she helped with the rest of the bags.

“So now my kid thinks she’s a comedian huh,” she teased playfully, closing the trunk in the process.

“I’m no Kevin Hart, but I try,” I shrugged.

My mom rolled her eyes and led us to the apartment.

“Can you wake me up when dinner is ready? I’m gunna take a nap,” I told my mom after I helped unload some of the groceries.

“A nap? It’s 4 in the afternoon,” my mom questioned me as she started taking pans out to cook with.

“Yeah, well all that exercise today really tired me out,” I said.

“Are you talking about school or taking up the groceries just now?” she said while quirking an eyebrow.

“Both,” I smiled.

“Don’t you have homework to do?” she further prodded.

“Mother,” I sighed dramatically and placed my hand on my chest, “you know I am most productive when the sun goes down.”

I call my mom “Mother” when I want to be dramatic -which is quite often if I’m being honest. But it seemed to work because she laughed and finally gave in.

“Alright, but I’m not letting you take those four-hour-long naps, just until dinner is ready, okay?” she scolded me.

“If dinner happens to take you four hours to make then..” I said walking away to my room down the hall.

“I heard that young lady!” my mom called from back in the kitchen.

I grinned to myself and dropped my backpack at the foot of my bed. I took my shoes off and sighed contently.

Finally, I thought to myself, I can nap my problems away. Said problems being a test I have on Friday -two days from now.

My window blinds were still open from this morning, so I decided to shut them; however, it felt real stuffy in here so I opened the window to let that New York breeze in. 

“That’s better,” I said out loud to myself.

I suddenly became conscious when I heard talking. Grumbling into my pillow, I was hoping that whoever was talking would, I don’t know, stop.

I am too comfy to move, I thought sadly to myself. 

I turned over and hoped that I could fall back asleep, but god damn, this person would not. stop. talking. I grabbed my phone from my night stand and saw that I only slept about 50 minutes.

Not even an hour, I sighed.

Furrowing my brows, I realized that the talking was coming from outside my window. My window? Who the hell is on my fire escape? My eyes widened at the thought of a potential burglar. I did the first thing that came to mind and grabbed my baseball bat that I kept under my bed. If there is anything I can learn from Stiles Stilinski, it’s that a baseball bat always comes in handy. I also had 911 dialed on my phone -just in case. I didn’t want to call the cops until I knew for sure. I mean, It could be my down stairs neighbor talking loudly on their fire escape, right?

I crept to my window slowly and quietly across the carpet. The talking got louder and my anxiety got stronger. I tightened my grip on the bat in one hand and shoved my phone into my back pocket once I got to my window sill. I decided to rip the band-aid and just pulled my blinds up really fast. I heard a yelp immediately and stared in shock at the sight in front of me.

“What the fuck,” I whispered, my heart hammering in my chest. 

Sitting on the rail of my fire escape was some dude in red and blue tights. He looked like he dropped something and reached for it. I gasped in shock because this guy is seriously about to fall to his death because of a-

“My churro!” he cried as he reached for it with one hand.

He grabbed his churro and shoved his phone into his belt? What in god’s name is he wearing? And how did he do that?

My brain finally caught up and I realized that he practically stuck to the side of my fire escape. He fumbled with his mask and tugged it down. Then he climbed over the railing -as if he’s done this several times- and gave me a wave.

“Uhh hel-,” he cleared his throat and tried to sound deeper, “hello there mam, how ya doin’?”

I waved my bat at him and said, “How did you do that, how- how did you get up here and why are you wearing a- what are you wearing?”

He shuffled on his feet and raised his arms at me, “Whoah whoah whoah, okay there Babe Ruth, let’s take it easy, yeah?” 

I raised my brow at him skeptically and mumbled, “You don’t look like a burglar.”

“A burglar? What? I’m, I’m not a burglar, I’m Spider-Man!” he said, almost sounding offended.

Spider-Man? Oh my god, I know this dude! How could I forget that video of him stopping that bus? It was all over school the next day.

“Wait, you’re the guy from Youtube? You look different. And you sound more like a Spider-Boy. Spider-Kid? Spider-Guy?” I rambled stupidly. I was starting to calm down. This guy didn’t seem like a threat to me; especially when he was waving that churro around at me as he talked.

“Man, okay? Spider-Man. With a hyphen,” he said, trying to use that deep voice again.

I set my bat down and propped my elbows against the sill, resting one of my hands under my chin, “Yeah. Okay, Churro Boy. Oh, I mean Churro-Boy with a hyphen.”

“Churro- you know what, I don’t have time for this,” he mumbled in his regular voice, starting to leap over my rail.

“Wait!” I called out to him.

Why did I do that?

He turned to me, waiting for me to say something.

“Is that a new,” I paused thinking of the right word, “suit?”

“Yeah!” he said, perking up and stepping back down, “It’s sort of a new upgrade, it’s pretty cool. Way cooler compared to my old one at least”

Must’ve said the right thing. I almost said costume. Maybe that would have offended him..

“Well, it definitely seems cooler,” I smiled slightly, “anyway, next time you wanna talk to your -whoever- on my balcony, can you warn me? I was trying to nap and you talk...a lot.” 

 If I wasn’t mistaken, it seemed like he was blushing under that mask; he stumbled over his next words.

“Oh, uh, god I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that someone was in there -I mean usually I just go unnoticed when I do stuff like this, which is pretty often. Surprisingly. The crime rate seems to be low in Queens, and it’s Queens! You’d expect a little more action around here, don’t ya think? I gave an old lady directions today and she gave me a churro,” he laughed lightly, scratching the back of his neck when he realized he was rambling, “oh wow I do talk a lot don’t I? Sorry...again.”

He is so cute. What? No, what am I thinking? Stop it Y/N. His voice isn’t nice or cute and the rambling is annoying! Definitely NOT adorable!

“You’re fine, it’s fine. I tend to ramble a lot too when I’m nervous,” my eyes widened as I lost my cool demeanor. “I’m not saying you’re nervous though. Maybe you are? I mean, you almost dropped your churro and that was...scary,” I laughed awkwardly. “I’m Y/N by the way,”

I stuck my hand out through the window and he clasped it with his own, shaking it back. “Yeah, I know,” he said letting go.

My face contorted into one of confusion, “You know my name? Do we know each other?”

He stumbled once again, “Huh? No! I meant I- I know that...it was scary! The churro thing. Almost dropping it. Yup. Terrifying, even!” He sighed to himself after seeing my expression and then said in a softer voice, “I’m sorry, I’m just nervous.” 

“Oh, okay,” I said unsure.

That voice...

Just as I was about to reply, I was cut off by my mom.

“Y/N! Dinner is ready!”, my mom called from afar.

I turned back and yelled a reply, “Okay! I’m up!”

When I turned to apologize to Churro-Boy for the interruption, he was standing on the railing again. 

“I uh, gotta go,” he said, pointing over his shoulder towards the city.

 “Oh,” I said suddenly disappointed, “no yeah I totally get it. Gotta go give old ladies directions and collect those churros right?” I tried joking. 

“Obviously, I want my churro collection to grow so,” he joked back. “Do you- do you want the rest of it? I’m kinda full anyway”

He offered the churro to me and I took it, “Eh, why not. If Spider-Man offers you a churro, one cannot deny it, right?” I smiled softly.

“Right,” he confirmed. “Churro-Boy out,” he saluted as he shot a web and swung away.

I mock-saluted him even though he didn’t see it as I bit into the churro. I closed my window and took out my phone to get rid of the 911 dial; I didn’t wanna risk butt dialing the cops. I could only imagine how that conversation would go. After I put my phone away, I made my way into the kitchen and greeted my mom.

“Morning Mom,” I mumbled, taking a bite.

“Where did you get that churro from?” 

I smiled knowingly and said, “Your friendly neighborhood Churro-Boy gave it to me”

“I don’t even wanna know,” she muttered. “But that better not be code for drugs.”

“Mother!” I exclaimed with my posh voice, “I would never!”

Part 2

[fandomrewrites]

Season 1, Episode 7: Night School Part 2

Hey everyone! I’m excited to share with everyone part 2 of night school. I hope you all have been enjoying the story so far and remember to leave me comments and share! As always constructive criticism is appreciated. 

Season 1, Episode 7: Night School Part 2

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend, Nate Wilson (OC) x Reader

Warnings: Mention of death

Word Count: 2,516

Season 1 Masterlist

Scott, Stiles, and I move away from the others to talk quietly. “Throwing Derek under the bus? Nicely done.” I say sarcastically.

“I didn’t know what to say. I had to say something. And if he’s dead, it doesn’t matter. Except if he’s not...” His voice trails off as he thinks about Allison, “OH God. I totally bit her head off.”

I roll my eyes as Stiles addresses Scott, “And she’ll get over it. We have bigger things to deal with. Like getting out of here alive.”

“But we are alive. And it could have already killed us. It’s like it’s cornering us.” Scott replies.

“So what? This is a game for it? We’re mice and he’s the cat? Lovely.” I state as I run a hand through my hair.

Scot sighs, “Derek says it wants revenge.”

“Against who?”

“I don’t know. Allison’s family?”

Stiles comes to a realization as he speaks, “Maybe that’s what the text was about. I mean, someone had to send it.”

Jackson calls out to us before we get the chance to speak up about the theory, “Okay, assholes.” Lydia and Nate glare at him when he calls me the name. “New plan. Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to send someone with a gun and decent aim. Are we good with that?”

No one speaks to disagree as Scott looks towards Stiles and quietly tells him, “He’s right. Tell him the truth if you have to. Just call him.”

Stiles looks visibly upset, “I’m not watching my dad get eaten alive.”

I lay my hand on his arm to give him some sort of comfort, totally oblivious to the death glare Nate is giving Stiles. As I open my mouth to speak, Jackson charges past the others, “That’s it. Give me your phone.”

He spins Stiles around, effectively knocking my hand off of his arm. Jackson reaches for Stiles phone in his pocket but before he can grab it Stiles reels back and punches Jackson, sending him sprawling to the floor.

Allison rushes to help him, “Are you okay? Jackson?”

At the same time, I smile and turn towards Stiles, “Nice punch.”

Stiles reaches into his pocket as Lydia and Allison help Jackson up. He pulls out his phone and calls his dad, “Dad? Hey, it’s me... and it’s your voicemail. Um... I need you to call me back. Like right now.”

Stiles is cut off by something slamming against the door making Lydia scream. He quickly starts speaking again, “We’re at the school, dad. We’re at the school.”

He quickly hangs up as another bang is heard at the doors. A stack of chairs tumbles down as the barricade starts falling apart.

We slowly start backing away, “The kitchen. The door out of the kitchen leads to the stairwell.” Stiles speaks up.

“Which only leads up.” Scott points out.

“Yeah well, up is better than here,” I reply.

Another loud boom comes from the door as the Alpha tries to make his way inside. We all bolt to the kitchen, making our escape.

*_*_*_*_*_*

As the seven of us run from the cafeteria we sprint down the empty halls and end up inside of Mr. Harris’ Chemistry classroom. Once the door is closed we all press to the wall trying to catch our breath.

Scott is the closest to the door, he slowly leans away from the wall. The creature slowly walks by the room stopping for a fraction f a second, steam from its breath covers the window. Then it walks away, the sound of its heavy footprints moving down the corridor.

We all collectively let out a breath, but no one moves. Scott whispers, breaking the silence, “Jackson, how many people can fit in your car?”

“Five if somebody squeezes onto someone’s lap.”

“Five? Nate and I barely fit in the back.” Allison exclaims, “One more person definitely wouldn’t. And that would mean two people are left behind.”

“It doesn’t matter. There’s no getting out without drawing attention.” Stiles stops the argument.

There is a steel door just past the teacher’s desk that Scott is eyeing, “What about this? It leads to the roof. We could go down the fire escape to the parking lot in seconds.”

Stiles points to the door and states the obvious, “But that’s a deadbolt.”

“The janitor has a key.”

“You mean his body has a key,” I say wearily from my position between Nate and Lydia.

“I can get it,” Scott says confidently. Then he whispers something to Stiles making sure the rest of us can’t hear. “I’m getting the key.”

“Are you serious?” Allison and I speak in unison.

“It’s the best plan. Someone has to get the key if we want to get out of here.”

“You can’t go out there unarmed,” Allison replies.

Scott looks around then grabs the pointer from the chalkboard, gripping it like a baseball bat. It bends when it moves fast. We all look at him like he’s grown a second head. “It’s better than nothing,” He tries to defend.

“There’s got to be something else,” Stiles speaks.

“There is,” I follow Lydia’s eyes, she’s looking at the chemical cabinet. “In there is everything you need to make a self-igniting Molotov Cocktail.” We all give her questioning looks.

“What? I read it somewhere.”

Jackson quickly shoves his elbow through the glass. Moments later chemicals are spread out on the teacher’s desk as Lydia pours one bottle in a mixture in a glass beaker.

“Jackson, hand me the sulfuric acid.”

He turns each bottle, looking for the right one, then hands one to Lydia as she pours the correct amount into the mixture.

As Lydia is making the firebomb Allison and Scott are talking about what he’s about to do. I understand Allison’s panic, Scott is my brother and he’s about to go out on his own to face a killer. The one thing I know that she doesn’t is that Scott is a werewolf.

Though that makes me feel slightly better, I also know that it’s not just some random psychotic murderer in the school with us. It’s a psychotic Alpha werewolf murderer.

Lydia hands the completed firebomb to my twin as he turns to move the chair from under the door handle. Allison is begging my brother to stay. All Scott does is look to the group, “Lock the door behind me.”

*_*_*_*_*_*

The six of us left in the Chemistry class sit lined up against the wall, watching the door. Allison is speaking, “I don’t get this. I don’t get why he’s out there, why he left and... I can’t... I can’t stop shaking. My hands,” Jackson interrupts, trying to comfort her.

“It’s going to be okay.”

Allison looks at me, “How could you just let your brother go out there like that?”

My eyes slightly widen at her accusing tone, “He would have gone no matter what I said. Plus I trust my brother. He’s be fine.”

“You’re not even worried about him? How are you okay?”

I clench my teeth, “I am worried about him. I’m just better at hiding it than you.”

Lydia looks at me, shocked by how harsh my words cam across; I have always been the nicer one out of the two of us so whenever I get an attitude she knows I’m really pissed off. But I didn’t care anymore. It’s been a horrible night and I just want to go to bed.

Nate gently tugged on my hand and when I turned to look at him he nodded towards the corner of the room, indicating that he wanted to talk. We both stood up and walked away from the group.

“I know you’re worried, but Scott won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Nate-”

“I know you’re upset with me. And you have every right to be. But I am so sorry that I accused you of cheating. I know you would never do that, my jealousy just took over. I know that isn’t an excuse but I truly am sorry.”

My heart feels like it’s about to be ripped from my chest as I debate if I should forgive him or not. Part of me feels he doesn’t deserve my forgiveness yet but a bigger part of me doesn’t want to risk throwing our relationship away. What we have is something good, and I do live him, with my whole heart.

Finally I sigh, “I’m not going to lie, I’m still upset. But I forgive you. I hate the fact that you jumped to conclusions but I understand being insecure and jealous.”

“I love you (Y/N). I promise I won’t ever be that stupid again.”

I attempted a smile, “I love you too. And I’m going to hold you to that promise.”

The minute I finished speaking a loud noise was heard coming from somewhere in the school. All of our heads turned to look out the door, except for Jackson who fell to his knees in pain.

Allison and Lydia, who were closest to Jackson, help him up. “I’m fine. Seriously, I’m okay.” He brushes the two girls off.

“That didn’t sound okay at all,” Allison says glancing worriedly between him and the door.

Something catches Stiles’ eye, “What’s that on the back of your neck?”

Jackson pulls away so we can’t see his neck, “I said I’m fine,” He snaps.

Lydia approaches Jackson, “It’s been there for days and he won’t tell me what happened.”

She gets cut off by Jackson, “As if you actually care.”

I instantly glare at him and hiss, “Back off.”

At the same time Stiles steps between the couple, “Can we not argue for half a second here?”

“Where’s Scott? He should be back by now.” Allison questions.

We all turn to the door. We can just make out a dark silhouette on the other side. Then we hear something snap.

Allison and I rush to the door, “Scott?” I question.

“Scott? What are you doing?” Allison asks right after me.

The person in the hall starts moving away from the door.

“Where’s he going?” Lydia asks us.

Allison then starts panicking once again. She’s calling out for my brother and pounding on the door. Until Lydia stops her, “Stop, stop! Do you her that? Listen.”

We all pause to listen, we could just me out the sound of sirens coming to our rescue. It was the best sound I heard all night. The six of us quickly rushed to the windows to see the police rush into the parking lot.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Once we are out of the school, Sheriff Stilinski pulls Scott, Stiles and I to the side to talk. “You’re sure it was Derek Hale?” The sheriff questions.

Scott nods, then the sheriff turns to Stiles and me for confirmation. “I saw him too,” Stiles replies.

Still uncomfortable with throwing Derek under the bus, I take a breath and answer, “I got separated from Scott and Stiles at one point. I didn’t see anything.” I gulp and look at my feet.

Scott speaks up, bringing the attention away from me, “What about the janitor?”

“We’re still looking for him.”

“You looked under the bleachers? Under them?”

“There was nothing there, Scott. We pulled out the bleachers just like you asked.”

“I’m not making this up.”

“And I believe you. I do.” Sheriff Stilinski gently tells Scott.

“No, you don’t. You have that look. Like you feel bad for me. Like you want to believe me. But I know you don’t.”

I grabbed Scott’s hand trying my best to comfort him without words.

“I hear you. And we’re going to look over the whole school, I promise.”

A deputy calls out to the Sheriff, “We need you here.”

“Stay. All three of you.”

When he walked away Scott turned to me, “Why didn’t you say you say Derek too?”

“I’m just not comfortable saying he murdered a bunch of people. I mean if he’s alive he’s going to be a wanted killer. And if he’s dead, he’s going to be remembered as a killer.” Scott nods understanding my reasoning.

Stiles smiled trying to think of something more positive, “Just think of this instead, we survived. We outlasted the Alpha. That’s good, right? Being alive?”

Scott shakes his head, sitting down on the school steps, Stiles and I following after him. I was in between the two boys and rested my head on Scott’s shoulder, exhausted from the night’s events.

“We were in the Chemistry room and it walked right by us. You don’t think it heard us? You don’t think it knew exactly where we were?” Scott asks us.

“Then why are we alive?” I whisper.

“Because it wants me in its pack. But I think first I have to get rid of my old pack.”

I lift my head off of his shoulder and raise my eyebrow as Stiles asks, “What old pack?”

“The two of you. Allison. Jackson, Lydia, and Nate.”

As I start to understand I shove my head into my hands, “The Alpha doesn’t want to kill us.”

“He wants me to do it.”

Stiles and I remain silent at the thought. Scott continues, “That’s not the worst part.”

Once again I turn to raise my eyebrow at Scott and Stiles asks the same question that’s on my mind, “How in the holy hell is that not the worst part?”

“Because when he made me shift... I wanted to do it. I wanted to kill all of you.”

We sit in silence for a minute as Scott glances past the officers, spotting someone. Looking up and following his eyesight I see Dr. Deaton, Scott’s boss, getting checked out by an EMT.

Scott gets up to talk to him. Stiles and I follow behind but stay far enough away to give them some privacy.

As Sheriff Stilinski moves Scott away from Deaton he spots Allison and makes his way to her. Stiles and I say in our spot waiting for him to come back.

When he reaches us he looks miserable, “She broke up with me.”

“Oh, Scotty...” I rub his arm gently but can’t think of anything else to do to offer him comfort.

Not too long later Sheriff Stilinski gives Scott and I a ride home. As soon as the door opens my mom pulls us into a hug. “We’re alright mom.” I tiredly smile as we pull away.

Scott attempts a smile, says I love you then heads up to his room.

“Is he okay?” my mom’s eyes follow him up the stairs.

“Allison just broke up with him. And it was already a long night before that.”

My mom sighs but nods, “Head up to bed. I love you.” She kisses me on the forehead then gently pushes me to the stairs. I say I love you over my shoulder and head to my room.

I don’t even bother changing as I throw myself onto my bed and drift off to sleep.

[amylillian22]

My Best Friend and My Sister – Scott McCall Imagine (Feat. Stiles Stilinski)

Request by Anon: Can you write an imagine we're your scotts younger sister and he notices that you and stiles have been hanging out more then usual. And Scott is very suspicious of you guys. And he asks you about it but you just say that your friends and he also tells stiles how he knows that he likes his sister. And Scott is very protective over you. And you and stiles tell Scott that you like each other and stuff:)

Word Count: 1,327

Author’s Note: Feedback is greatly appreciated :)

[My Teen Wolf Master List]

Scott stepped out of the building and walked towards the courtyard. From a distance, he saw his little sister and his best friend sitting on a picnic table together. Stiles had made a joke that had Y/N laughing with tears in her eyes. Scott saw Stiles watching his sister and he could tell his best friend was in love with her. Stiles had a genuine smile on his face as he watched Y/N's head roll back while laughing hard.

It didn’t surprise Scott. Y/N had always gone to the lacrosse games to support her brother, but Scott knew she was also going to support Stiles. Stiles would tag along with Scott to her volleyball games, because as Stiles said, ‘best friends always do everything together’, but deep down Scott knew it was an excuse to see Y/N and show her the same support she shows him at his games.

However, lately, the pair have been hanging out more often. They always manage to pair up when anything supernatural related happens. Like her brother, Y/N was a werewolf and was a part of his pack. Although, she knew Stiles could defend himself with his trusty baseball bat, she always felt more at ease with him by her side.

Besides the supernatural stuff and the games, Scott knew they’d been hanging outside of school as well. There have been a couple of times where Stiles has offered to pick up Y/N from her volleyball practices when Scott was stuck at work with Deaton or taking his mom lunch at the hospital. Which sometimes led to grabbing a quick bite at the local diner or grabbing some ice cream on the way home. Scott didn't mind the two of them together, but he was very protective when it came to his sister and her heart. She was his little sister. Even though he loves Stiles like a brother, he wouldn't hesitate to kill him if Stiles broke his baby sister's heart.

The only problem was Scott has been suspicious about the pair for a while and even asked them separately if they liked each other several times before. They both denied it, but Scott knew they were lying. However, today he was going to get to the bottom of it with them.

"What's so funny?" Scott asked when he reached their picnic table and sat down in front of the pair.

"Just a joke Stiles told me," Y/N said wiping the tears from her eyes.

"It was pretty funny," Stiles smiled.

"It was hilarious," Y/N chuckled.

"What's the joke?" Scott asked. 

"Why do bananas have to put on sunscreen before they go to the beach?" Stiles asked as Y/N bit her lip from giggling.

"I don't know. Why?" Scott asked.

"Because they might peel!" Stiles answered. As if hearing it for the first time, Y/N bursting into a fit of laughter again before placing her hand on her stomach, trying to gasp for air. 

Scott chuckled, thinking how crazy his sister was. He thought the joke was funny but not hysterical like Y/N did. In that moment, Scott believed these two couldn't be more perfect for each other.

"Y/N, do you still like Stiles?"

Y/N's laughter died as her eyes went wide with Scott's blunt question. She wasn't expecting him to ask her that in front of Stiles. She felt her cheeks and the back of her neck heat up as she felt Stiles staring at her with his jaw open, completely shocked Scott revealed she liked him.

"How could you?" She glared angrily at her brother. Her blood was starting to boil and Scott could sense how upset she was because he knew she could never trust him again.

Scott held up his finger to her, signaling her to wait a second before ripping his head off. He looked at his best friend and asked, "Do you still like Y/N?"

"Dude!" Stiles snapped.

"You like me?" Y/N asked Stiles.

Scott tried not to roll his eyes before he spoke. "Yes. He likes you. You like him. I can see how he might not know it, but how do you not notice it with your werewolf senses?" 

"I don't know..." she trailed, "I mean I noticed it a couple of times, but I just didn't think he would actually like me that way. I always thought he saw me as a sister like he sees you as a brother."

"Believe me, I do not think of you as a sister," Stiles answered.

"So... then what's the problem? Why don't you two admit and act on your feelings?" Scott asked.

"Honestly?" Y/N asked carefully. Scott nodded before she continued, "I didn't think you would be okay with it."

"What? Why?" Scott asked confused.

"Well, I don't know if we have the same reasons, but for me it's because you're my best friend and she's your little sister. I don't exactly know how you would feel if I dated your sister," Stiles answered. Y/N nodded her head, signaling she had the same reasons. 

"I didn't know if you would be okay with it," Y/N added. "Plus, we never really talked about it," she pointed a finger between her and Stiles. "So, it's a lot to take in now that we're laying everything out on the table." 

Scott sighed. "I'm sorry if I gave you the impression I wouldn't be okay with you two dating. I know I can be very protective of Y/N, but, Stiles, are you serious about her?" 

"Yeah," Stiles looked Scott in the eye and said it with pure honesty. "She's not just some girl to me. I really like her."

Y/N couldn't help but smile big. Although she knew he was terrified being put on the spot and being vulnerable, she knew Stiles meant every word.

"Then I trust you, bro. I know you'll be good to her, but just know," Scott pointed his finger at his best friend with a serious look on his face, "you hurt her, I will hurt you. I love you, bro, I do, but she's my baby sister."

Stiles put his hands up in defense. "I won't hurt her. I don't plan on it."

"Okay then, we good?" Scott asked. Stiles and Y/N nodded with smiles on their faces before they looked at one another and then back at Scott. They all stayed quiet and just looked at each other. "Well? Ask her out already!" Scott said eagerly.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh as Stiles' cheeks turned into a light shade of pink. Stiles scratched the back of his neck before looking back at Y/N. "Would you like to go out Friday night?" 

"I'd love to," Y/N smiled at Stiles.

"She'll be ready by 7 but I want you there by 6:50 and not a minute later," Scott butted in. "Because you better believe I'll be hounding you with questions about your intentions with my sister."

"Scott!" Y/N whined but before he or Stiles could say anything else, Lydia and Liam walked up to their table.

"Hey guys," Lydia smiled as she sat next to Scott. "What's up?"

"Stiles just asked Y/N out," Liam said as he sat next to Y/N, proving to everyone he was using his werewolf senses. 

"It's about time!" Lydia cheered.

 "I know," Liam said as he pulled out his phone. "I was going to give Stiles one more week before I would put a love note in Y/N's locker from Stiles."

"What are you? 12?" Stiles asked Liam. Liam rolled his eyes at Stiles and ignored the question.

"Wait, a minute, you two know?" Y/N asked Lydia and Liam. 

"Of course we knew," Lydia said. "We were just waiting on it to finally happen."

"And it's about damn time too," Liam said before everyone chuckled as Y/N and Stiles' cheeks turned pink.

“And you’re okay with it?” Lydia asked. 

Scott smiled as he looked at Stiles and Y/N. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s my best friend and my sister.”

At Scott’s blessing, Stiles reached in for Y/N's hand and gave it a squeeze, reassuring her everything would be okay. She looked up at Stiles', who gave her a genuine smile. She smiled back, wishing Friday would get there already.

[utopiansparklingangel]

To Fill a Hole

The first time she heard it he was kneeling on the hard floor, almost knocked out from the punch he definitely wasn’t expecting.

The second time, when his rambling got interrupted by the lean curves of her naked body, barely hidden even with all the steam surrounding her.

That same night was the third.

When his soft hands started warming up her cold ones, sending electric shocks through her muscles. And she was the girl who spent eight years trapped inside of a body that wasn’t entirely hers. She wasn’t afraid of anything. That’s why she did the only thing that was on her mind in that instant.

And then, when her lips collided with someone else’s for the first time, she practically felt it in her own chest. That quick, yet steady heartbeat she would hear every time after that. Whenever he was excited, anxious… angry. Or simply near her. And just after her reassuring nod and his lips claiming hers for the second time in that minute, it became her favorite sound.

­­­­­­_____

“Don’t forget me, Lydia. You’re the only one that could help. You are the banshee. They’re all gonna forget… Ev- Everyone… Y- You have to help them. Please… Don’t forget me.”

“I won’t.”

_____

It happened the very next morning. Lydia was on a school parking lot, standing dumbfounded, her eyes glued to a blue jeep, its owner nowhere to be found. With a shaky hand, slightly away from her ear, she held her phone. The distinctive sound of quick deafening beeps made everything else around her fade away.

Number non-existent.

She maniacally run inside the building, thousands of thoughts rushing through her head uncontrollably. She was looking, afraid she’ll never find. Afraid it was too late. Then she saw Malia in one of the classrooms. “Malia! Where is he? Where’s Stiles?!”

The girl looked confused, “What? Who’s Stiles?”

“No. No! Oh my god! This is not happening! It’s no-” Lydia was shaking her head, trying to convince herself she was still in her bed, dreaming. “It’s not real.”

“Lydia, what’s wrong? Are you ok?” Malia was starting to worry.

“Please, Malia. Tell me you remember him,” she squeezed the girl’s upper arms. “Tell me you know who Stiles is!”

“I’m sorry Lydia. Should I?” Malia looked frightened. “Who is he? A friend of yours?”

Lydia suddenly felt all power drain from her body. Her legs wobbled and she collapsed to the ground.

“Lydia!” Malia knelt down, letting her friend to lean on her for support. “Please tell me what’s wrong. I don’t know how to help you. Who are you talking about?”

“Sti- I’m sor- so sorry…” she was mumbling, but Malia would’ve heard her even if she was miles away.

“Shhh… It’s ok. Just tell me what happened to this… Stiles.”

Lydia gulped, her throat hurting from the knot that formed there, and barely audibly she voiced, “He’s forgotten.”

Malia froze. Chills eerily crossing down her spine. She didn’t even know this Stiles person, but she felt a hard tightening in her chest, leaving her with a dull, aching burn. Like all of the sudden someone pushed their hand inside of her, ripped an important part of her out, and left a huge hole in the place where her heart should be.

Forgotten. Sadly, Malia knew what that meant. “We need to find Scott. Now.”

_____

The boy was sitting on the ground, his back tiredly leaning against the wall, head bent down in defeat as he absently watched his shaky hands. A familiar feeling of helplessness was suffocating and an overwhelming fear welcomed him again.

In the end, of course it was Lydia. She was the harbinger of death after all. It made sense she was the last one to forget. But even though he was glad at least one of his friends hadn’t forgot him and would hopefully remember him long enough to warn the others, he still couldn’t bare the fact no one else knew who he was.

The way his father spoke in unusually distant, professional tone like he was a complete stranger, got buried deep in his mind and he was sure he will never be able to forget it. Then his best friend, looking at him like he’d never seen him before. Like he was just some guy. Another human being whose name was on his list of this-person-needs-saving-today.

Then, his mind wandered off to the last three hours of his life above the earth. Light, sorrowful smile tugged the corners of his lips. In this morbid reality, he was strangely satisfied, for he spent his last hours with her.

“You have got to be kidding me!” rough voice scoffed above his head.

Stiles groaned, his melancholic thoughts instantaneously got replaced with anger and disgust.

_____

“So, he is our best friend? My best friend?” Scott sighed, “When did this happen?”

Over the past few years, the alpha and his pack have experienced more things than an average teenager should. A lot of people left. Some even run away, hoping they’ll find a better place to live. Others, died. But, how do you cope with the fact that someone you’re supposed to be so close to, someone who was with you through all those obstacles, who stood by you in the worst moments of your life is not just gone, but every memory of them has disappeared too?

“I don’t know. But he warned me yesterday. He knew he was next.” Lydia’s gaze drifted off to her shoes, the same ones she wore the previous day. She never wore the same thing twice in a row. “I guess shortly after that.”

Malia was sitting on the edge of the sofa. Her face blank, look distant. Mind… a million light years away.

Lydia noticed her lack of reaction, “Malia? Are you ok? You haven’t said anything since we got here.”

Malia lifted her head and firmly looked at her friend. “We have to tell his parents,” she spoke calmly. “We know his parents. Right?”

Scott groaned, “How are we supposed to tell these people they have a son they can’t even remember. They won’t believe us.”

“It’s just his dad actually,” Lydia corrected. “And he’ll believe us.”

_____

“I couldn’t sleep last night. Halfway to the kitchen I stubbed my toe. On an aluminum baseball bat. Without thinking, I yelled out a name,” Stilinski was telling the kids.

Scott and Lydia shared a look, “Stiles.”

“I found a room I don’t even remember having,” he continued. “It just appeared out of nowhere. It looks like a… a giant hole in the middle of the house.”

“Deaton said they don’t just erase people from a memory. They erase an entire person. And apparently everything they ever owned,” Scott reminded them.

“His jeep is still here,” Lydia added, “but, I can’t find the keys.”

“Wh- How is that even possible? You just said they take everything!” Sheriff grunted. “Did Deaton mention anything else?”

“They’re called the Ghost Riders. Seeing them it’s a sign they’re coming for the person. Making them a part of the Wild Hunt,” Scott explained.

“So, what do we do? What are our options?”

Lydia sighed, “We don’t know. What do you thi-” she turned her head to where Malia was sitting a mere moments before. “Oh, my god! Where is she?”

They started looking around when Scott sniffed, “It’s ok. She’s still here.”

Lydia exhaled, “I thought she was…”

_____

Malia was following a musty smell. Walking up the stairs that looked vaguely familiar, sure she saw that part of the house before. How well did she know it, though? How often did she come here? And what was she doing?

Her legs moved unconsciously. Independently from her brain. Like they knew exactly where to take her. Like they’ve been walking through this halls more than through her own house.

They brought her to a big hole in the wall where doors should’ve been. She took a step inside the dark room. It was completely empty, like a huge gray box. Two windows, that let small beams of light illuminate the center of the room, were broken. Cracks on the ceiling formed a strange pattern, threatening to crush down on her head in any moment. If she was seeing this in some other occasion, the thought of someone burning the place down would probably cross her mind. But, this was not the case.

She moved slowly, trying to mentally place basic furniture where it might’ve stood. Like bed and nightstand. Or desk and table lamp. Was it usually messy, or always in order? Maybe there was a soft carpet right where her feet were. She brushed her fingertips across the rough concrete wall, wondering of the color that used to be painted on it. Was it adorned with pictures… or paintings?

She came to one of the corners and leaned her back, letting her weight slide her down on a cold, dusty floor. She took a deep breath, like if inhaling strong enough would help her catch a scent. And maybe then, she would remember.

But nothing happened. There was no enlightenment, no memories surfacing. Only stress and sadness that came from the living room.

“Who are you?” she whispered into thin air. “Where are you?”

_____

“I’m actually really glad they chose you too. No one ever cared about you anyway. You should’ve been forgotten a long time ago,” Stiles said to the man he wanted to hate more than anything. But he never completely could. Not since he found out he was her father.

“Nice to see you too, Stiles,” Peter looked amused, a bit more than he should.

“Can’t say it’s a pleasure,” Stiles smirked. “So, how long?”

“How long what?”

“Since you took a shower. What do you think?”

“Witty,” Peter still liked the way boy acted in miserable situations. “Four days, if I’m correct. But it’s kinda hard to keep a track of time down here. Or up. No, I’m pretty sure it’s down.”

Stiles wasn’t listening anymore. Instead he was trying not to get affected by the newfound information because, if someone like Peter Hale was still trapped there after four days, it was far from good news. “So, what are we gonna do? I guess you’ve tried something?”

Peter started laughing, like something in his brain suddenly snapped, making him go crazy. “Oh man, you really are an optimistic little spaz, aren’t you?”

Stiles looked at him confused.

“Look, boy. We both know we’re not each other’s favorite person, but we’re going to spend a looot of time together. So, sooner you get used to it, better.”

“What? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying we don’t exist, kid! We’re already forgotten.” He sniffed, and said his final words before leaving the brunet all alone with his thoughts, “I hope you said your goodbyes.”

Stiles watched him walk away. “Somebody’s gonna remember me,” he murmured, “they’ll come for me.”

_____

“Hey,” Lydia carefully sat next to Malia. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” If she was good in anything, it was in not showing her emotions. At least that’s how it was so far. Now she was wondering if the boy could’ve made her react a certain way.

They were quiet for a couple of minutes, before Malia decided to break the silence.

“How did we meet?” she paused, then looked Lydia straight in her eyes. “St-“ she swallowed, “him and me? How well have we known each other?”

Lydia looked at her slightly confused. Probably because she wasn’t expecting Malia to be the one to ask that question.

“Mal, I know you want to know. But it’s a really long story and we’re losing precious time. He could be completely gone in any second,” she said as compassionately as possible.

Malia knew she was right. But she couldn’t keep going with nothing on her mind. She had to fill at least a little part of that emptiness that slowly spread through her whole body. “Please. I have to know. I need to know. Tell me in five… six words and that’s it. Just give me something, Lydia. Anything, and I won’t ask again.”

Desperate plea was something she never witnessed coming from the coyote, and it pained her to see her friend like this. Lydia sighed, “You… you were together. And you loved each other. You still do. Very much.” She decided to leave out the final part. The one where they broke up. Sort of.

“We were together? What does that mean? We’re not anymore? Did we have a fight?” Malia spilled questions in one breath, wanting to find out as much as she could, already forgetting about the promise she made seconds ago.

“No, no!” Lydia quickly interrupted her. “You still are… you just… don’t remember.” And she didn’t quite lie. They were still in love. More than either one of them was willing to admit. But everyone could’ve seen it. In the way Malia would stiff whenever he’s near, sometimes even blush, or the way Stiles would nervously peel his cuticles and steal subtle looks when she wasn’t watching. But Malia needed hope. Something good to hold on to. So, Lydia didn’t want her last thought of him to be the break up.

“Oh,” Malia swallowed again.

Lydia saw a small relief crossing her eyes, so she took Malia’s hands in hers. “He loves you Malia. And you love him. And that is something you should never doubt about,” she smiled kindly.

Malia hastily wiped a traitorous tear she hadn’t noticed sliding down her cheek, and stood up. “Come on. We need to find a way to save him.”

_____

“No! You can’t just tell me it’s over. There must be something we can do! I’m not just gonna stay in this pit hole and let them make me ride a horse, alright?” Stiles burst out once he found Peter again. “I don’t even know how to ride a horse!”

“What do you want me to say, Stiles? We can’t get out of here! You get that? They are going to make us hunters. And once they do, you and me, the world as we know it, it’s all over!”

“Come on, I don’t believe it. Big, great Peter Hale doesn’t have something up his sleeve?” Stiles teased. It was just a slight twitch in older man’s eyes, barely even a micro expression, but Stiles was sure he didn’t imagine it. That was enough to make him dig further, “You know something, don’t you?”

Peter shook his hands, “No! Forget about it!”

Stiles realized he won’t get any information that way, so he decided to continue with another approach. One he was sure would work on the guy. “Hmph… I have to admit, even though I always hated your guts, I actually considered you a clever guy,” he provoked. “Guess now we know who Malia’s got the brains from, huh?”

“You really think that’s gonna work on me? You think I’m that stupid?”

Stiles raised his brows in question, “So you wouldn’t mind losing your freedom… just like that? You’re just gonna… give up?”

The man pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, then sighed. “I’m not even sure if it’s gonna work.”

A glimpse of hope immediately crossed Stiles’ face.

_____

He warned the only person he hoped would remember. His time was ticking. There wasn’t much he could do know, and telling it anyone else would be pointless. Even Scott was powerless at this moment.

But, maybe he had time for just one more visit.

He parked his jeep a couple of blocks away. The night was unusually chilly. His whole body shivered and sharp wind scratched his lungs so much it hurt. Wild howling of the wind was almost entirely suppressed by the pulse pounding in his ears.

Deciding to go to the back of the house, he came close to the window and knocked on the thick glass. “Malia?”

The girl lifted her head from the pillow like she heard a gunshot. Her instincts and the cruel reality of her life made her always be alert.

She was probably imagining. Without having a proper sleep in weeks, it wouldn’t surprise her. Or maybe she did fall asleep and dreamt it.

She tried to concentrate. That’s when she heard it.

Ba bump, ba bump.

“Malia?”

“Stiles!” she rushed to the window with the sound being the only thing in her focus.

_____

Deaton put a jar filled with dark, bluish seeds back on the shelf before looking at the boy. “There is probably one way you can do this. But, you’re not going to like it. And it’s definitely not going to be easy.”

“I don’t care. I’ll do whatever I have to. I’m not gonna stop. Not until I bring them back. All of them,” Scott assured.

The man nodded. “You know the reason you are the only one that remembers him, right?” he pointed at Lydia.

“Banshee powers.”

“Harbinger of death,” he clarified. “You are connected to the underground. Which is the place your friends have been taken to.”

“Wait, does that mean Jordan can remember him, too?” the girl asked.

“Exactly. And you will need his abilities for what you’re about to do. Now, look. I only know this in theory. I never witnessed this kind of situation before.” He sighed before continuing, “You can’t actually kill the Wild Hunt. But you can send them away for a long time. Long enough for them to never come back in your lifetime. Which is actually what they want, they just got stuck here for some reason. Now, to do that, you’ll need a silver sword.”

Scott frowned, a sad memory surfacing his mind, “Kira’s.”

The doctor nodded again. “One more thing, really important. They take lost souls. But sometimes, they also take the dead. Especially if the dead is someone who deserves to be taken. To become… faceless.”

“Wait, what do you mean, like someone who actually died?” Scott’s eyes widened.

“So, what does that mean for us?” Malia interjected.

“Well, you could use the dead in your advantage. Speed up the process of luring the leader. He’s the one you need to use the sword on.”

“Are you saying we have to dig up a dead body now?!” she asked again.

“Um, yes… and no. You actually have to bring them back to life… In a way… The point is, it can’t be just any dead person. It should to be a supernatural, someone who can help you draw the hunters close to you. You have to make them come to you.”

Malia was already tired of the conversation. It was all too shady and she needed a plan. A solution. “Ok, where do we get a dead supernatural being and how do we bring him back?”

“Well, I think the easiest and the fastest way would be to bring someone who’s not entirely dead, but more… sent away… using a… sword?” the man carefully looked the reaction of his visitors.

Malia clenched her jaw, “Theo.”

_____

“Hey,” he said in barely more than a whisper.

“Hey,” was all she replied, before quickly closing the window behind him.

She opened her mouth to speak, to ask him why he was there so late at night. Or to just ask him one of the billion questions that had bothered her over the past three months. But she said nothing. Instead she let herself enjoy his presence for a while. Fill her nostrils with his smell. Internally smile that after a long time, he was there again. In her room.

Stiles slowly turned around, looking across the room. A mellow light from her old lamp selfishly kept his figure in a dark shadow, but she caught a weak, nostalgic smile across his face, “Everything’s the same.”

Malia observed the way his eyes wandered off to the photograph on her nightstand. Engraved, old frame shielding it from damaging. She remembered when Liam took it. The first day of senior year. Stiles had his arm around her neck, with her hair strand curled around his index finger. Their faces were lightly touching and they both smiled widely. She also remembered how they laughed the next day when they caught Scott and Lydia in the distance, waiting for them by the school entrance with clearly not so amused expressions.

The silence started to make her anxious and she finally decided to speak, “So, what’s going on? You ok?”

He scratched the back of his neck nervously and turned to face her completely, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Malia furrowed her brows, carefully studying him. Most of the time she didn’t need her heightened senses to know how he truly felt. “You don’t seem fine.”

“You mean I don’t smell fine,” he corrected, the same smile appearing again. “Hmph, yeah, I know you guys will never stop monitoring my emotional state.”

“Sorry,” Malia looked at the ground, slightly ashamed.

She knew how that felt. There were times when Scott did the same thing on her. Especially lately. When she unintentionally started to project tiredness and depression. She smelled more and more like stress then her usual smell. But that was the thing. Ever since they’ve known her she had the smell of mild happiness, a lot of confusion, and a huge amount of Stiles. And once he was gone, she stopped having that one thing in her life that made her forget about her past. Even if just for a couple of minutes. Her anchor that made her firmly stand on the ground whenever she felt like collapsing. So her natural, daily smell changed.

“It’s ok. I’m kinda used to it,” he assured her. Then something hit him, and he looked at her bed, confused. The pillowcase and sheets were only slightly wrinkled, giving the impression like someone was only resting on the top. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Um, not much. I can’t really sleep,” she mumbled the last part.

The concern on his face was evident, “Why?”

“I- I don’t know. I just, I can’t… fall asleep.”

“How long has this been going on?” he took a few steps towards her, only then noticing small puffiness under her eyes that he hadn’t seen before, due to usually trying not to look at her directly in the eyes. He instinctively moved his hand to reach her face, but quickly stopped himself.

“Just a couple of days,” she lied. “It’s not a big deal. It’ll pass.”

Stiles exhaled deeply, than took another step closer. “You should’ve told me. I could’ve helped you.”

Malia instantly tensed. She stood there, pinned to the ground. “I- I- I don’t- I,” the girl stuttered. She never stuttered.

She stared at him as he took one more, slow step. Standing so close to her that she felt his hot breath on her face, made her more nervous than it did the first time they’ve kissed. She felt all feelings coming back like a hurricane. Her blood boiled in her veins and adrenalin hit her as that familiar knot formed in the pit of her stomach.

Stiles tried to steady his breathing, but he knew she could hear the way his heart threatened to burst out of his chest like a volcano.

Even on a dim light she looked beautiful. Then, he saw her blushing. And that was enough to give him all the courage he needed. Gently, he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his thumb lightly brushing her cheek along the way.

Her eyes involuntarily closed as she leaned into the touch, and her heartbeat went raging like never before.

He caressed her earlobe as he watched her dazed, heat invading his entire body. Her lips slightly parted and he trembled, the need to feel their softness again making his own lips burn. Slowly, he slid his hand under hair at the nape of her neck, and she opened her eyes just when the space between them became unbearably small. Like opposite sides of two magnets, they were pulling each other closer until they collided. Merging into a kiss so tender, yet so firm. The warmth radiated through them, awakening their every muscle.

“Malia,” he whispered slowly, as if the word was his last breath. As if her name was his last prayer to God. He finally understood a reference of a lover’s kiss to the need of oxygen.

Her arms ran up his spine until his body pressed against hers tightly, leaving no space in the middle, and he felt the beating of her heart against his chest. He intertwined his fingers around her neck, deepening the kiss. It was a desperate kiss. The interchange between two people who believed their lips would never meet again. His tongue delved into her mouth, tangling with her own as they put all of their emotions into it. And Malia felt every single one in the air. Clear and distinct.

Passion.

Desire.

Love.

An inexplicable mix of sadness and happiness.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so-“ he cried out against her lips when suddenly he felt her cold fingertips lightly pressing over his mouth.

“Shh,” her nose slightly brushed the tip of his own, “don’t say anything. I know.”

A single tear rolled down his left cheek, and she gently brushed the salty liquid with her thumb, his eyes never leaving hers. He got lost so deep in them that for a moment he simply forgot to breathe. If they were the last thing he was destined to see on this earth, he would gladly die or let the hunters take him in that very moment.

But he was only a human, after all. And they always crave for more.

His hands trailed under her shirt, softly grazing that sweet spot at her lower back and he could practically imagine the way it made her toes curl. It was surreal how much his body ached to hold her, have her even closer. He pulled the silky fabric that kept him apart from her skin over her head as she immediately did the same, then leaned in to kiss her neck. Slow and tender.

Suddenly, he slid his hands down her thighs and pushed her up, making her jump and she instantly crossed her legs around his waist. He slightly bit her neck and her nails unintentionally dug into his bare shoulders, a low groan of pleasure escaping his throat. He gently put her on the bed, then pulled away to look at her. Her pupils were wide and dark. Her lips swollen and pink. He lightly brushed his thumb over them and after what seemed like an eternity, his eyes were blessed with her smile again. Intimate smile, shaped solely for him. His mouth mirrored hers before their lips connected again. This time in a stronger, fiery kiss.

_____

Liam swung the sword above his shoulder, its blade viciously pointing toward his feet, before pushing it into the ground with every ounce of his strength. The impact formed a crack that spread over the hard floor like a lightning. About thirty feet ahead, the cracks stopped and concrete started falling.

Scott, Malia, Lydia and Liam stood in expectation. For several seconds nothing happened. Then a hand, scratched and dirty, firmly hit the rough surface, quickly followed by a familiar face showing itself in the dark.

“This was a bad idea,” Liam’s voice softly echoed through the air.

_____

“Just to be clear, this is only a myth,” Peter mentioned.

“Fine,” Stiles held back an eye roll.

The man inhaled, then said it matter-of-factly, “We have to kill the leader. Well, not actually kill, but-”

“That’s not that bad,” Stiles cut him off. “At least we don’t have to kill all hunters or blow up the entire underground.”

Peter slightly cackled, “Don’t be so optimistic. Trust me, it’s not as easy as it sounds.”

“Why?” the boy frowned.

“We need something we don’t have and pretty much have no way of getting.”

Knowing that the answer won’t be good, he went on anyway, “What?”

“A silver sword.”

_____

It was silent once everyone gathered in Scott’s living room, but the air screamed anger and hostility. Malia stared at the guy who took everything from her and people she loved. Even a glimpse of remorse that flashed through his eyes wasn’t able to change what she felt for the monstrous being, dangerously close to her claws. She despised the fact they needed help from him. He was the reason Kira was compelled to leave with skinwalkers, he sent Lydia to Eichen and killed many innocent people, including his own sister. It was his fault Sheriff was on a verge of death, his fault Mason turned into the Beast. He deceived and shot her, left Deaton to die by the hands of the Desert Wolf. Manipulated Liam into killing Scott and when his devious plan hadn’t worked, he murdered her best friend. In cold blood.

And now he was standing calmly in front of her, barely six feet away. Only one long step and she would be on top of him, hitting and scratching until his face would look so distorted no one would even believe he’s a human. On the other hand, he was everything except human.

Then a though occurred to her. What did he do to Stiles? Sheriff was his father. That must’ve been the most terrible time of his life. But what if that wasn’t the only way he hurt him? And just like that, thoughts were tearing her mind apart and hatred built up, threatening to turn her into killing mode. But, she knew what they were here to do. And her priority was Stiles. So she swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

“Let’s skip the whole ‘I’m sorry’ crap and ‘We forgive you’ crap, cuz you’re not sorry and we don’t forgive you,” she hissed at the guy. “We brought you back to life and if you don’t want to be immediately put back under, you better do what we tell you to do.”

The boy shortly glanced at Scott before returning his gaze to Malia, “What do you need?”

_____

“Are you serious?” Stiles spouted.

Peter shrugged.

“Well, do you have a sword?”

“Oh yeah, of course, I’m wearing it around my belt! It’s kinda a new style I’ve been tryin’ out late-” he started in a mocking tone.

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, “Okaaay… Do you have any suggestion on where to find this… Excalibur?”

“Isn’t that thing made of metal?” Peter asked bluntly.

“Wh- No, it’s a silver sword with golden handle,” his nerdy side blurted out. “Seriously, have you ever read a book?”

“I didn’t really have much time for school. You know, between killing and having sex,” the man smirked. “Made only one kid during that time. Count that as a win.”

Stiles made a fist, barely resisting the urge to punch the guy.

“Oh, don’t worry. I still love my little girl. She’s fierce.”

The brunet took a calming breath, forcing himself not to get sucked into this disturbing and unbelievably inappropriate game. He pushed his thoughts away and tried to focus again. “Alright, there must be another way. How can we get to a silver swo-” he paused, then trailed off, “it’s not about the sword.”

Peter furrowed his brows in confusion.

“It’s about what it’s made of,” Stiles’ eyes widened as his mind cleared. “Right?”

“It’s about silver,” Peter concluded and the boy nodded.

Stiles took a quick glance at their surroundings, “There are a lot of girls here…” He raised his eyebrows, but the other one looked even more confused, “Girls wear jewelry…”

Peter scoffed, “So what, your plan is to find a silver ring and propose the guy?”

“No, we just have to make him- he- we need to put it inside of him somehow. It’s like that time Allison destroyed the Oni,” he paused. The recollection of his friend losing her life for the people she cared for, surfacing without a warning. He never saw it happen, and for that he was grateful. But he still felt it very often.

She was just like him. A human, with no special powers to protect her. But she was strong and brave. She was a warrior.

Stiles sighed, pushing the sad memory in the back of his mind. “She found a way to make the arrow stay in, long enough to kill him.”

“Sooo-“ Hale waited for brunet to explain further.

“We make him swallow it,” he added matter-of-factly.

“O- Oh yeah… right!” Peter quickly touched his temples like he just had an epiphany, “H- How did I not think of that before?! So, we’re just gonna go to him, offer him a candy and say ‘Don’t worry, it’s not made of silver!’ What exactly is your plan Stiles?”

“Why are we still talking about this? Let’s just find something silver first, and we’ll figure out the rest later!” Stiles felt nauseous. They were utterly unproductive at the moment and he needed actions.

“Do what? Come on, explain to me this brilliant plan of yo-“ the werewolf started nagging again, but was quickly cut off.

“Well, do you have a better idea? Cuz if you do, I’m totally up for it! Really, don’t hold it back! Anything will do! ‘Cause I would much rather do something, anything and fail, than to just sit around and wait for my life to be over!” Stiles yelled in frustration. He had to find a way. He needed to go back. But when Peter kept quiet after a while, Stiles slowly nodded. “Okay, then.”

_____

Scott sprinted towards the pungent smell. His werewolf senses fully alert and he was sure he never ran this fast before. Even when he was running away from something.

It was different now. His friend was in danger and it slightly surprised him how much he cared for her. He’d been following the scent for nearly twenty minutes now. She was smart and she moved so fast he almost lost her two times. But, she was scared. On top of that, her newfound strength did the opposite of helping him in this situation. How did she even lose control? She’d been having her mother’s powers for three months now, yet this never happened before.

He ended up on a car junkyard, when he finally came to a full stop. No footsteps to be heard anymore. It was strangely silent.

Then, a beautiful, gray coyote jumped over a pile of tires. Her blue eyes gloving in the dark as her paws firmly landed on the ground in front of him.

Now was his chance. The alpha opened his mouth, sharp fangs threateningly growing, as a loud roar pierced through the air.

_____

A familiar warmth woke him up. A slender hand, perfectly fitting between his long fingers, firmly pressed against his exposed chest. He squeezed it tenderly, bringing it to his cheek to softly caress it. Her bare breasts sent a pleasant chill down his spine. He carefully rotated his hips, scared his mind might have deceived him and she was yet another unmerciful dream. As a child who prayed for a gift under the Christmas tree, he shut his eyes tightly and held his breath.

The boy slowly peeked and his lips almost immediately spread into the stupidest, most innocent smile.

She was real. Everything was real.

Her disheveled hear, her rosy cheeks. Her full lips. He glared at her collarbone, her muffled moans still echoing in his ears as now already yellowish marks, almost entirely healed. His will probably stay there for quite some time, which he didn’t mind one bit.

Delicately, so as not to disrupt her peaceful sleep, he moved his hand up and soothingly stroke her hair. Intoxicating, coconut smell hit him like a sedative. He kissed the top of her head, deeply inhaling, when suddenly the reality stabbed him to the core like a nail through a wall.

This. All of this.

It will shortly turn into nothing more, but memories.

He almost choked in an attempt to suppress a sob. Tears crept up instantly and his eyes stung. He buried his mouth in the palm of his hand to stop any squeaky whines from escaping his throat.

After several minutes he finally smothered the aggressive break down.

The brunet pulled his body form under girl and gently laid her down on the mattress. He gingerly brushed her back, then placed a soft kiss on her shoulder blade. She slightly squirmed and snuggled her nose deeper into the cushion.

Quietly, he stood up and started putting his clothes on. With every move he made, every step he took further away from her, his heart ached more. As soon as he grabbed the handle he stopped and swallowed a big lump, before turning to take the last look.

“I’ll come back.”

And with the final whisper, he opened the window. This time, never looking back.

_____

Scott looked at his friend worryingly. The moon, still in his full form, illuminated the night sky. Her hear was messier than usual and the obvious exhaustion tainted her perfect features, but she still stood straight and ready to fight. “Malia,” he gently gripped her by the elbow, “you should know something.”

She looked at him sternly, waiting for the rest.

“I spoke to Lydia about your recent… problem.”

Malia slightly flinched at the word, “Scott, I can worry about that late-“

“No! Listen,” he cut her off, “she told me the reason you weren’t able to control your changing was because… you don’t have your anchor anymore.”

Confusion on her face was slowly increasing. “Wha-“

“Guys!” Lydia broke the line of Scott’s thoughts for a second, but Malia stood like a statue. “Come on!” the girl waved her hand in the direction they were going, “we gotta move on!”

“We’re coming!” Scott voiced before turning his focus back on the shocked girl in front of him. “Mal, you get what I’m trying to tell you, right?”

“Stiles,” she mumbled.

The dark haired boy let out a long sigh, “Remember I told you about Allison?”

The name drew Malia’s intention again.

“She was my anchor… in the beginning. Then I lost her” Malia knew it took him a lot of courage to talk about Allison, but after everything that had happened with the beast, she noticed his voice didn’t tremble as much anymore. “And that made me almost strangle my father once. My mom stopped me. You know what she said then?” Scott looked deeply into her eyes, “Be your own anchor!” he squeezed her upper arms in support. “Until we find him and bring him back, you have to be your own anchor.”

Malia stared at her friend and took a deep breath. Then she put her hand on his and nodded in understanding.

“Guys!” the strawberry blond girl ahead screamed again, before both of them hastily run towards the rest of the group.

”So, are you completely sure you saw them?” Jordan questioned the chimera.

“Yes! I was walking after I left Scott’s house like four hours ago when they appeared. Plus, I’m pretty sure there are no other horse riders in Beacon Hills.”

“Alright, we all remember the plan?” Scott interrupted them.

“Yeah, but how do we know when they’re gonna come for him?” Liam wondered.

“We don’t. That’s why we’re here where we can surround the leader,” the alpha waved his hand vaguely at the woods around them. They agreed the best option is the lookout point, since the attack can be expected from only three sides.

“So, we sit and wait. Great,” younger boy concluded with an obvious lack of enthusiasm.

“They shouldn’t take long,” Malia assured him.

_____

“Give it to me!” Peter shouted as he kept pulling on a woman’s purse that hung over her shoulder loosely, lady persistently tightening her grip over handles.

“Whoa, wait! Stop!” Stiles yelled back at him, but the man continued with his struggle anyway. “What are you doing?”

“She won’t give me the purse!”

“What do you want with a purse? Just ask her if there’s something… important inside.”

“We need that purse, now!” Peter widened his eyes, nodding in the direction of beige leather the blond was firmly squeezing.

Stiles glared at her bag. “Um,” he cleared his throat, “excuse me, miss-“

“Mrs.,” she corrected him.

“Sorry, Mrs.,” he nodded respectfully. “Um, could you tell me if that’s a real silver,” he pointed at chains on her small bag, “please?”

“This is Chanel,” the woman scoffed, offended. Like the statement was supposed to be an answer of its own. She patted the thing, obviously proud of her property, rolling her eyes annoyingly when the two kept staring at her blankly. “Of course it’s silver!”

“Oh, good, good. Great. Ok, um, now… could you, possibly… give it to us?” he asked carefully.

“Are you insane? Of course not!”

“Look lady, taking that purse would be a piece of cake if I let my inner self out right no-!” Hale threatened.

“Oookaaay!” Stiles raised his hands to stop him. He could practically feel his eyes shining blue and fangs growing inside his jaw. If he didn’t want to whiteness a bloodshed caused by werewolf claws, he had to try a different approach.

“Mrs.,” he kneeled by her side, “look, I know you don’t like this guy very much. Trust me, I’m not his biggest fan either. But, we really need that purse, and if you don’t give it to us, I’m afraid he’s going to lose all his patience and not even I am going to be able to stop him. Which means it’s gonna get pretty ugly… And I don’t think that’s what you want.”

The blonde glanced at Peter, than at Stiles again. She squirmed at her seat slightly, then slowly handed her bag over to the boy.

“Thank you,” Stiles sighed gratefully.

“Great. Let’s go!” he heard Peter already turning around before he stood up as well.

“If all you wanted was to rob me, why didn’t you just take the purse right away?” she mumbled behind them. “Why bringing me in this horrible, dirty place?”

“What,” Stiles turned to utter an explanation, “we didn’t-“

“Stilinski,” Peter grabbed him by his elbow, “we don’t have time for this.”

Stiles let it go and continued walking the other way.

“Now what?” Peter suddenly questioned.

“I- I don’t… know,” the brunet looked at the purse confused.

“What? We have silver, what’s next? This was your plan!” the man pointed out harshly.

“I know, I just… didn’t think all the way through yet. I kinda taught we’ll know what to do once we find something.”

“I knew this was a stupid plan,” Peter mumbled.

“Hey, at least I tried some-“

Their discussion was abruptly cut off with fast gallop down the dark corridor.

_____

“You ok?” Malia set down on a big stone next to Lydia.

“I- I feel like… its close,” she murmured.

“The Wild Hunt?”

“No, I- I don’t… know. I mean I think, I’m gonna forget, too… Soon. I can’t explain. It’s just… a feeling.”

“Stiles?” Malia raised her eyebrows and the other girl nodded silently.

The look on her friend’s face made her skin crawl. It was full of sorrow, undeniable sadness and exhaustion. She hated seeing her like that. Ever since Kira left, she and Lydia started spending more time together. As they were so different, she never thought they could bond as much. But they did. And she knew how much it was hard for Lydia, too. Especially after Allison. Just a thought of losing another close friend would destroy her. On top of that, being the only one to remember must have been a gigantic burden. Maybe not remembering is not such a bad thing after all, Malia thought to herself. But it was a double-edged sword.

She sighed, “We’re gonna make it, Lydia. We will. Just hold on to it a little bit more.” Malia gently took her hand and Lydia squeezed it in return.

“It’s been almost an hour,” Liam suddenly whined, breaking their thoughts.

“Be patient,” Scott advised, “they’ll come.”

“Alright, I don’t want to be pessimistic or anything,” Jordan approached to Scott quietly, “but why exactly are we trusting this guy again?”

Scott was about to answer when a bloodcurdling scream pierced through the air, sending everyone in a close proximity flying away. Young deputy ran over to the banshee in a flash, his supernatural instincts immediately forming a bubble around them, shielding her body to suppress the wave of deafening noise.

“They’re coming!” Theo shouted frustratingly and before anyone could react, several horses appeared out of thin green air with their hoofs repeatedly hitting the earth in sharp moves.

Malia was barely aware of a warm liquid sliding from her right ear as she tried to get back on her feet again. She forced herself to concentrate and focused her eyes on the shiny blade lying next to Liam’s legs. Her knees crumbled with every attempt to lift herself up and she began crawling, her claws digging in dirt as she practically dragged her body towards the sword. From the corner of her eye she saw the chimera darting in her direction, but she kept her stare firmly on the sword now only a few feet away.

“Malia!” she recognized the voice as Scott’s. The alpha was already on his heels, reaching her in four long steps only to jump over her spread out body. She refused to follow anything that was happening around her. Instead she kept moving forward until her hands grabbed the weapon and she turned just when Scott pinned the other guy to the ground, not allowing the sudden intruders to take him.

Before she could even react, the black horseman stood in front of her. Instinctively, she swayed the sharp blade and bolted forward with determination and a hostile crease between her brows. The sharp tip went through dark torso, getting stuck in the middle. Before anyone realized what was happening, greenish light surged out of the unearthly creature like a bolt of lightning, until all that was left, was black dust, slowly falling to the ground.

In what couldn’t be more than seven seconds, somewhere between destroying explosion and confused stares, another horde of hoofs broke the unpleasant silence and multiple riders started dropping bodies on the ground like sacks of potato.

Bodies. Dead bodies?

Malia’s heart stopped and her limbs went numb. Cold sweat poured through her skin drenching her shirt like all of the sudden she started melting. Disintegrating.

Fast movement flashed before her eyes. Only then did she realized her friends had already started looking through the pile of possibly dead limbs.

Another scream. But this time she didn’t feel the need to cover her ears as she turned to its source. Lydia dropped to her knees with Scott right beside her, Jordan and Liam quickly catching up to them. Their backs turned to her as they made it impossible for her to catch a glimpse of what they were looking at, but they hovered over something, or… someone.

Malia winced as she stumbled forward, ignoring a dull ache. Her eyes never left the sight before her, and what she was seeing now made her stop in her tracks. Was Lydia hugging someone? When the girl finally moved, she revealed the object of their attention.

A boy.

Messy, dark hair. His shoulders were slightly slung as he slowly lifted his head, revealing multiple dark dots which asymmetrically adorned his pale cheeks in a perfect contrast. His gaze shifted quickly between the alpha and the girl on his other side, before finally settling on her.

Golden, doe eyes almost instantly started transforming into coal-black.

No movement. Silence.

Then, a sharp throbbing pain.

Malia squeezed her palms against her temples tightly, as if the pressure would drive away sudden intruding jabs in her brain. She barely realized most of her friends also scrunched in anguish, when a series of images started flashing through her mind in a lightning speed.

      Hey, it’s Stiles… you remember me?

      …Not that I would prefer there to be less steam…

      I was wondering why you punched me.

      We were just trying to help.

      You might not like me if you knew any more.

      Was that you first kiss?

      Wanna try it again?

      Just breathe. Breathe with me, alright?

      …Like I thought you were leaving!

      What’s with all the highlighters, anyway?

      It’s gonna get easier, I promise.

      …I’m not leaving you… Just listen to my voice!

      I’m not gonna run! ‘Cause I don’t think you’re gonna hurt me…

      Control, is overrated.

      You did it.

      I’d never leave you behind.

      You might be related to him, but you’re not like him.

      Even smart people can do stupid things…

      You hate me?

      …I can work with that.

      Pizza. She like pizza.

      The vision. And don’t mock the vision.

      I didn’t mean it like that.

      It matters to me.

      You called her?

      Malia…

       I’m sorry.

 Then everything came to a halt.

She doesn’t feel a cold breeze anymore. It’s warm. Not just around her, but inside her.

Mix of muffled moans echoes in the air. Her claws grow out of her control as ecstasy hits her to the core and she instantly feels a soft flesh under her fingernails. She’s scared she’s gonna hurt him, but then something similar to a growl flees his throat as he tenses above her in bliss. He kisses her roughly.

Their bodies are firmly pressed against each other’s, breaths slowly calming together.

He rolls off of her and circles his arm around her shoulder to bring her closer. He plants a kiss on the top of her head and sighs quietly.

She nuzzles into his neck.

So warm.

Gentle fingertips trace patterns across his collarbones, mapping his skin inch by inch. He shivers.

He strokes her hair, tugging it lightly just above her neck. The way he knows she likes it. “I’ve missed you so much.” It’s almost inaudible, but she hears every word. “I don’t want to leave you ever again.”

The voice is followed by a weird smell spreading through the air. She can’t quite put her finger on it, though she caught glimpses of sadness and worry. But then she felt a strong scent of pure happiness and nothing else mattered anymore.

“Then don’t.”

Malia loses all of her strength before crashing to the ground. Blurred eyes make her hardly see and she blinks repeatedly to clear them, only tears won’t stop. Moments pass in broken sobs.

Then she feels a warm hand on her cheek.

She inhales sharply. A lack of oxygen in her lungs making her dizzy. His thumbs wipe away the never stopping drops and she can finally see.

A gentle smile illuminates his face.

“Stiles-” she starts to speak. She wants to tell him everything and anything. Maybe even punch him for leaving her. But the words get stuck in a lump, and her arms are too heavy.

“I told you,” he looked into her eyes. Deep and intense. “I’m never leaving you again.” He hugged her. In an almost bone-crushing embrace.

Malia could’ve sworn what happened next was supernal.

From somewhere beneath, right against her chest, came a sound. A sound impossible to forget. She smiled.

And just like that, she felt whole again.

[celestial-diana]

The Boy Who Couldn't Get Out Of Her Head | Stiles Stilinski Imagine

Author: @celestial-writing Warnings: none,cute fluff, some gore and violence Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Reader Words: 2k Request: none AN: Hey! I’m Madi and this is my first imagine like ever! I really have to give a huge thank you and early/not early happy birthday to Steff, @dumbass-stilinski who literally supported me through this imagine and helped me edit! Also a huge thanks to my bestie, Camile, @minhosmeanhoe for supporting me all the way! Hope you guys like this and send requests if you guys want!

—————

Stiles Stillinski.

(Y/N) couldn’t get that boy out of her head. Ever since meeting him at the homecoming dance when he was looking for Lydia when Peter took her. Since then he consumed her thoughts with that mischievous smile.

She walked to her locker, opening it to grab her books for the day, to only hear the laugh of Stiles Stillinski come her way. She smiled to herself and a took a deep breath in to calm her nerves, she knew Stiles didn’t have werewolf powers but when he was around her heart still raced around the boy she was in love with.

“Hey (Y/N)!” He hollered walking down the hallway, smirking as he leaned next to her on the lockers.

“Hey Stiles, what’s up?” She said happily and looked at him but saw his gaze stuck on Lydia, and she didn’t want to know what the strawberry blonde was doing to catch his gaze this time. She let out a sigh and shut her locker which took him out of him trance.

“N-nothing much. You know…” he stumbled in his words, scratching the back of his head. “But I have been looking in my dad’s office..”

She raised her eyebrows in a motherly manner. “Define ‘looking’, Stiles.”

“Well I have been sneaking around in my dad’s office but there’s been some weird stuff going on by this old warehouse…supernatural stuff. I thought it would be good investigate the place, it could be a portal to an alternate universe for all we know?.” Which caused her to let out a chuckle from the rambling that came out of those pretty pink lips she had her eyes trained on.

“Wanna check it out with me after school?” He asked raising an eyebrow and giving her a big smile, making her heart flutter.

“What about Scott?” She said confused at first, Stiles always having his escapades with his best friend of an Alpha. They were always together at the hip, well until Allison came around.

“I didn’t ask him, (Y/N).” Stiles said with a smirk, which made her bite her lip.

“Uh huh, and you didn’t ask Lydia either?” She asked with a slight hint of jealously. Other than Scott, Stiles was also with Lydia, the girl he was hopelessly in love with and she never gave him the time. It hurt how much she liked, scratch that, loved Stiles and she knew he wouldn’t even have feelings for her back because of Lydia. But she wouldn’t let her nightmarish reality get in the way of spending anytime with Stiles.

“Nope. Do you want to go with me or no?” He asked looking a little nervous. She smiled and nodded, a smile appearing from the tired boy in front of her.

“Good! See ya later!” He gave you a peck on the cheek and ran to his next class. She stood in the middle of the hallway, stunned by what happened and slowly headed to class, still in shock that Stiles Stillinski just kissed her on the cheek. Yes, it may of been on the cheek but it was a lot for her. She thought it over in English class and then shook it off just thinking it was a friendly thing, right? It had to be, he was in love with Lydia, he had to be…

After the whole school day went through it’s course, she met Stiles at his baby blue jeep named Roscoe. Stiles ran over to her, tripping over the hood of the car and almost falling on her to open the door of Roscoe for her.

“I-I could of opened the door..” she said trying not to laugh at what the scene he just made.

“What kind of gentleman would I be?” He replied giving a wink and a blush started to creep up her neck.

He walked back over and hopped into the jeep and they started on there way to the warehouse. He turned on the radio to some sort of old rock station and let it play in the background as they passed all the forest scenery around them.

She looked over at him, staring at him a second, memorized by the scattered moles across his face. Then her eyes caught down to see his pink plump lips, just thinking of him pulling over and pressing his lips to her own.

“Hey?” He spoke loudly to her, waving his hand in front of her face, pulling her away from her trance. “(Y/N), are you okay?”

“Y-yeah? Sorry just thinking?” She mumbled causing her to blush. Embarrassed about her own thoughts and what just happened, she mentally scolded yourself. Stiles was still in love with Lydia, what even gave you the idea he would ever be even interested with her. Lydia was the perfect strawberry blonde girl of his dreams and she was just the girl he hung out with at pack meetings and worked on assignments.

“Okay…well we’re here.” He mumbled softly, giving her a worrying look which left a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. She opened the door of the jeep and walked back to see Stiles with two bats in his hand.

“His and Hers bats of course.” He said to her, breaking the silence with a genuine smile and handing her a bat, which made her laugh. She shut the door to Roscoe and they made their way to the abandoned building. They passed the large symbol cut into the side of the warehouse and entered the building, her grip on the baseball bat tightened.

“Stiles, what did you find out about this warehouse in your dad’s office?” She asked slightly scared, as she heard scratch marks down the sides of the walls, which caused Stiles to grab (Y/N) hand.

“This use to be an old distillery, abandoned for awhile until my dad found a dead body cut in half and decapitated here a couple years ago…” he looked at her slightly nervous. Her breath hitched when he grabbed her hand but the scratches kept coming closer.

“Then ‘animal attacks’ started again…” he whispered.

“Stiles I think we should go.” She said scared.

“Yeah. We should go.” He nodded in agreement and started to pull her in the direction of the car.

“Not so fast little ones..” Kali groweled behind them, her red alpha eyes gleaming and teeth bared. She felt Stiles death grip her hand as she started to breathe heavier and she dropped the bat out of pure fear. (Y/N) never really fought with the pack, she just helped figure things out with Stiles and Lydia, so she was terrified and Stiles knew that.

“Get back.” Stiles spoke sternly, trying to hide the fear in his voice, raising the bat up in front of them. “O-or I’ll hit you with the bat!”

She laughed right in there faces, her claws extended and ready to rip them into little pieces. “You kids picked the wrong place to make out.”

(Y/N) and Stiles could barely react before Kali ran up and slashed (Y/N) in the face, knocking her down the floor and losing her grip on Stiles’ hand. He gasped and yelled out her name before gripping his bat and swinging it at Kali who dodged it and swiped her foot at Stiles. He swung his bat again towards her and hit her side, making her stumble. (Y/N) tried to get up, she lost her bat when she first saw Kali. She looked around for Stiles but blood covered her eye as it gushed out of the wound. She tried to get up but failed from the dizziness, only be grabbed by a pair of hands with claws at her throat. Kali gripped her throat and Stiles looked at them fearful, almost tearing up, thinking (Y/N) could be killed. He held his bat tighter, ready to attack her to get (Y/N) back.

“Hit me Stiles, I dare you, but if you do….sweet little (Y/N) gets her throat slashed. You trespassed alpha property and I’m not that merciful.” Kali dug her claws into (Y/N) throat starting her to gurgle slightly from the pain.

“D-don’t h-hurt her! T-take me okay, let her go!” He stuttered, looking scared out of his mind. He dropped the bat, his hands shaking just hoping Kali would let her go.

“Now what fun would that be?” She smiled and then loud growl came behind them, which (Y/N) couldn’t see how it was because she passed out in Kali’s arms from the blood she loss from the wound on her head and the punctures in her throat.

She thought she would wake up in the abandoned warehouse, not in Stiles’ arms in the back of his baby blue jeep as was softly running his hands threw her hair and adjusting the blanket he had wrapped around her.

“S-Stiles?” She whispered softly, opening her eyes to feel pain all over her head and throat, knowingly they were taken care of by feeling the soft bandages on her skin.

He shook out of his daze and looked at her relieved. “You’re awake…t-thank god.”

“Stiles what happened to Kali?” She whispered, confused about the whole ordeal.

“I texted Derek where we were before we even went there, so he took care over…she left when Derek got there. I didn’t know Kali was there or that was her territory…(Y/N) I’m so sorry. I never meant you to get hurt..” he told to her softly, looking into her eyes meaningfully.

“Stiles it’s okay..” she said softly as she went to hold Stiles hand which laced with hers.

“It’s n-not okay (Y/N), I could’ve got you killed…just because I wanted to impress you…I’m so sorry (Y/N).” he admitted to her, his gaze turning away from hers. She looked at him confused and put her hand under his chin and pulled his gaze back to hers.

“Why would you want to impress me?” She asked confused, still thinking Stiles was madly in love with Lydia.

“Because being with you these last couple of months, I have developed such deep feelings for you, j-just thinking about you with anyone else…well I really couldn’t think of it..” he admitted to me, his eyes watered down slightly from all the emotion filling the room.

“Stile-” she said but was quickly cut off by Stiles.

“(Y/N), when Kali was going to k-kill you, I knew if it happened I could never live with myself b-because I love you…” he whispered.

All the breath was taken out of her lungs and she felt her heart start to beat against her chest. The boy she loved had the same feelings she had for him. The boy who tried to protect her against the Alpha and put his life on the line for her.

“I love you too, Stiles..” she admitted and she gently put her hand on his cheek and pulled him down to press her lips against his. He didn’t do anything for a second before slowly moving against hers. They stayed like that for awhile, just kissing and pulling each other closer without trying to touch the injuries, until Scott opened the door and they quickly pulled apart.

“O-oh sorry guys, ruined a moment, didn’t I…uh Deaton wants to see you, (Y/N)..” Scott said embarrassed for ruining the moment and scratched the back of his head. Stiles gave him a slight glare and (Y/N) chuckled. She slowly got up with the help of Stiles and walked inside of the animal clinic.

(Y/N) almost died today, was terrified out her mind, and now had a great story to tell to the pack, but even after all of that, she learned that the boy of her dreams loved her back. Now Stiles would never get out of her head, but that wasn’t too bad in her case.