#this is only a little bit about stiles struggling through the window

[aurevell]

Returning the Favor Sterek | 5k | T

Stiles pays a nighttime visit to his boyfriend in secret, or so he thinks. Unfortunately, the Hale family has keener ears than he realizes.

It’s late when Derek hears the noise at the side of the house. A creak of siding that cuts through the backdrop of cricket song. Just one lone sound, but there’s something cautious about it. Probing.

He lowers the book he’s reading, but no other sounds follow. Derek has been lying sprawled across his bed, drowsy and warm and comfortable, sweatpant-clad legs resting against the wall—but now that he’s conscious of the sound, his focus sharpening, he thinks he’s been hearing quiet noises grow nearer for some time without quite comprehending them. A wild animal outside, maybe, creeping slowly around the foundation of the house. Something large enough that the mulch in the flower bed crunches beneath its weight.

It’s not often that a solitary animal grows bold enough to venture this close to a werewolf pack—the scent always scares them off first. They don’t even get raccoons out here, especially not with the cold this time of year. It could always be their cousin Warren, who’s always thought it funny to startle his relatives with unexpected visits in the dead of night. Or any one of the nasty things in Uncle Peter’s wild stories, supernatural things that creep into the house come dark.

Derek glances at the window, book still resting on his chest, but the house is still.

Maybe it’s gone. That’s just as well: he’s too comfortable to drag himself over to the window to look.

And then another sound comes, an unmistakable creak. Heavy weight settling into place.

Downstairs, his mother sighs. “What was that?” she demands, her voice faint with distance. She and his dad are likely out on the porch swing at this time of evening, even though it’s nearly winter, lunatics that they are. “If Laura and Cora are at it again—”

“I’m sure they aren’t, Tal,” Derek’s father replies, sounding amused. “You put the fear of god in them.”

Mom scoffs. “If we have to repair another door, it’s coming out of their pockets.”

“Not everything is my fault, Mom,” Cora mutters pointedly from down the hall. There’s heavy metal coming from the vicinity of Laura’s bedroom, just low enough to be blasting from her headphones, and she doesn’t pipe up to defend herself.

The thing hasn’t gone away. Metal squeaks a moment later, and then the scrabbling returns, punctuated by a thump and a muffled grunt.

Annoyed, Derek tosses the book aside and clambers to his feet, crossing over to the window. When he hoists up the sash, letting the night chill waft in, he peers down into the dark and finds that the source is worse than anything he could have imagined.

It’s his boyfriend, scaling the side of the house like some deranged cat burglar.

Stiles is hanging onto the drainpipe, having managed to hoist himself several feet off the ground. He’s leaning against the metal awning over the kitchen window, one foot atop the shutter and the other scrabbling for purchase against the siding. At the clatter of Derek’s opening window, he looks up, startled, and nearly loses his balance.

“What are you doing here?” Derek hisses.

“Just returning the favor.” With a moment to catch himself against the awning, Stiles gets his bearing and grins. “What? Don’t make that face. C’mon, you can show up at all hours of the night, but turnabout isn’t fair play?”

With that, he sticks his tongue between his teeth, which he sometimes does unconsciously when something demands his full attention. And the perilous task of climbing should get his full attention, given how often he stumbles when both of his feet are on the ground. God, Derek is about to witness his idiot boyfriend fall to his death or something.

Stiles heaves himself mostly onto the awning, clawing for purchase with a grunt. When he reaches for the window, he loses his grip, nearly sliding backward onto the grass; in a flash of panic, Derek grabs him by his shirt and yanks him forward.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he demands, aware of their volume and even more aware of their audience.

The awning rattles as Stiles draws up his long legs to slip inside the window feet first, ducking under the sash. He’s panting a little as he pulls himself upright, though he bats his eyes sweetly in the face of Derek’s scowl. “Oh, please. I knew you’d catch me. ‘My hero,’ and all that.”

“Should have let you fall and die,” Derek retorts, shutting the window.

“Probably. Oh man, that was so athletic. Sometimes, I amaze myself.”

Derek doesn’t have anything smart to say to that. He’s only half paying attention, too busy bracing for the discussion sure to follow.

He and Stiles may as well have stomped up and down the stairs blowing air horns as far as the rest of the house goes. Everyone will have heard. Derek is absolutely sure because you can hear a pin drop, like no one’s even moving, like everyone’s waiting with bated breath—either gleeful or judgmental or both—to hear what comes next. Even Laura’s deafening headphones have gone silent. Fuck.

Worst of all…Stiles doesn’t know any of this. He doesn’t yet know about the secret the Hale family hides, or how keenly they can hear, or that every word he says will be seized up and cheerfully dissected and gossiped about in real time.

Read the rest on AO3

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Do you know any bestfriend peter and stiles fixes no steter just really good best friends I just feel like there so underrated <3

Yeah!

Accident by Chattalgi

(1/1 I 964 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Stiles hurts himself.

Derek is there to help.

I’ll Go Through a Million Tragedies Just to Be with You by Ghosted_Redacted

(1/? I 993 I Not Rated I Stackson)

Stiles is suffering after the nogitsune, but that doesn’t mean he has to suffer alone. Sure, no one in town other than an (ex) homicidal werewolf, but that’s…fine.

But then he gets a call from London.

And maybe people do care.

(In other words: everyone suffers. But everyone also finds someone to love)

Two of Swords by pixieblade

(1/1 I 7,484 I Teen I Sterek)

Denial, blocking off emotions, avoidance of and not seeing the truth, stalemate, impasse.

---

They gather to stare at the orb. It's cold, where it should be warm. There's death, where life should flourish. One reaches out a hand, takes the freezing orb and presses it deep against his chest, sharing warmth and life and love.

'Breathe, little spark,' he whispers softly. Finding gentleness when it was once so lost to him. 'Breathe,' he coaxes. 'We're here. You're not alone anymore. Never again.'

The orb shudders in his embrace. Tears, like a melodic tinkling, dance across it's surface as it gives in and sinks into the heat of the other.

Never again, it repeats, and prays the other is right.

Wild (Blue Neighborhood) by BeautyOnFyre

(1/1 I 11,029 I Teen I Sterek)

Peter's lethargic body was unresponsive as he sat in the wheelchair, endlessly staring out the window of his hospital room. His side twinged a bit from the rough scrubbing the nurse had given his mottled flesh earlier and he ached to move even a finger.

"Uncle Peter?" The small voice was behind him in the doorway. He remembered that voice. Contrary to the title bestowed from the small girl that rounded his chair into his line of sight, Stiles Stilinski was not related to Peter at all.

Or how Stiles and Peter became best friends for life and brought Stiles into the Pack.

A Wolf's Ribbon by Dexterous_Sinistrous

(6/6 I 36,091 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek had been coached on how to approach the child heir apparent while hundreds of eyes watched him. He kept his eyes focused on the cradle, leaning over the edge as best he could to see the baby everyone had been talking about.

Stiles smiled when he saw Derek, kicking his legs out as he reached a hand up for him. He cooed at Derek, his fingers grabbing at the older boy in an attempt to touch him, all to no avail. He gurgled out a laugh when Derek reached a hand down into the cradle, snatching hold of his fingers as best he could.

Derek offered a small smile in response, allowing Stiles to playfully tug on his hand.

The two children made an adorable sight before the Court and their parents. That was the moment Queen Talia and King John decided to arrange their marriage. Every second was planned out without the voiced concern of the children.

It takes a village by pixieblade

(32/? I 78,312 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles is tired. He's tired of always having to defend himself to his so-called best friend. He's tired of being ignored and he's tired of the Pack never having his back.

So this is his line. He'd draw it in the sand, but all he has is a glitter sharpie.

It'll have to do.

Baseball Bats and Sour Wolves by Erin1324

(68/? I 84,425 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek is cursed with some sort of spell, and for some reason only responds to Stiles as a result. He tries to attack everyone else, even his Alpha, he's also acting super overprotective of Stiles, hardly letting anyone get close to him.

Joining the Fang Gang by AClosedFicIsNeverRead

(21/? I 87,645 I Explicit I Sterek)

“Lydia? Lydia, look at me,” Derek urged, a slight tremor in his voice as he fought to be gentle with her despite his alarm. She blinked through tears and struggled to meet his gaze as he crouched in front of her. “What did you see?”

“Forest… It’s dark… His Dad is screaming for him…” Her lips trembled as she shook her head and gasped, “Oh, God… He’s dying, Derek. I can feel it… It hurts so much… Oh, poor Stiles…”

- OR -

The one where Stiles is turned into a vampire, hides it from the pack, and tries to manage his new 'condition' without them noticing.

[anonymous--weirdo]

seven~scott mccall x isaac lahey

Ship: scisaac

Genre: major angst

Warnings: Character Death, Child Abuse, Violence

______________________________________________________________

Scott sat down in the swivel chair by his desk, his pen to the paper, and watched as the blue hue spread into a small circle on the page, yet no words were written. Scott didn’t have them. He wanted to write about the color blue, the ocean, how deep and mysterious it was, and the beauty of swimming in it until you were lost and struggling to find your way back. He wanted to write about melodies that soared through the air and took you to safety and happiness.  Thoughts of true love flooded his mind, the way it makes you feel alive and real. Like you're invincible, and nothing could ever hurt you. He threw the pen onto the desk and placed his head in his hands, tears welling into his eyes in frustration. Then he felt a gentle hand on his back, causing him to flinch away. 

“Scott come on, your mom is downstairs waiting on us. We have to leave man,” Stiles said softly and helped his best friend up from the chair, frowning seeing the state of him. 

Scott didn’t reply as he made his way to the car. He ignored the pitiful looks he got as he sat in the backseat. He looked down and on the floorboard he saw a balled up hoodie with Lahey 14 printed in vinyl on the back. He scooped it up from the floor and cradled it in his arms. He laid his head on the window, soft tears fell down his face as he closed his eyes and got lost in his thoughts. 

   The look on Isaac’s face was ingrained into Scott’s mind when he suggested he should run away and move in with him. The soft shock and almost terror sent chills through Scott’s spine. However, Scott felt he had no other choice. The bruises never stopped, the whimpering and wincing at each little touch didn’t stop and Scott couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted his boyfriend to be safe and so they planned it out, they would leave three nights from then. During the week Isaac would inconspicuously take all of the things he loved and wanted to keep out of the house and move it into Scott’s. The plan was flawless. 

Two days before Isaac was said to move in completely and Scott hadn’t seen Isaac at all. He let his thoughts get the best of him and shot him a text. He was trying to limit the amount of messages they sent each other or how often they talked in the halls of the school. The worry however, was too much for Scott to bear, especially when the situation was so delicate. 

[ Hey, checking in. I haven’t seen you all day and I am worried about you < 3 ] he sent with his bottom lip tucked into his teeth and the phone hidden slightly under the desk. 

[I’m okay darling, just a bit under the weather today. The plan is still a go I promise < 3 I love you] 

Scott read over the message and smiled to himself. He should have known there was nothing to worry about.   

The day had come and Isaac still hadn’t been at school. The worry came back despite the constant texts he received from his boyfriend. The ticking of the clock seemed neverending as he waited for class to end. When the shrill bell rang he exited class and walked down the dreary hallway, rain was never a good thing in Beacon Hills, it made the atmosphere of the entire town eerie and sad. He checked the time and for any new messages from Isaac. He glanced toward Coach Lahey’s office and saw the lights off which was unusual for this time of day, the pool was indoors and it made sense for practice to still be on despite the rain. Being the nosey boy he was, he approached the office and peeked inside, it appeared as if no one had been in it all day and his blood ran ice cold. 

Scott arrived at the Lahey household, the rain pelted against the window of his car. The rough pelting of the rain on his car only made his anxiety increase, his foot pressed the pedal harder as he sped to the Lahey residence. The street lamps passed in a blur as the dark clouds loomed overhead. He almost missed the house due to how fast he was going, he slammed his foot onto the brakes skidding into the driveway as he shoved the gear shift into park. He slung the door open, not bothering to shut the door or even take the keys from the ignition.

He sprinted to the door banging on it, “Isaac!” He screamed and banged harder, “Isaac, baby, open the door! Come on let me in!” he begged and knocked, despite hearing movement in the house no one came to answer the door, “come on Isaac!” he couldn’t take not knowing where his partner was or if he was okay. He kicked right above the door handle and under the dead bolt watching as the door kicked in. 

His eyes were locked on the mess, if Scott wasn’t the forced entry it would have looked like a robbery took place. Each step he took made the floor attempt to whisper a silenced secret, he thought of what the walls would tell him if they could talk. The tragedies they could write would outdo anything Shakespeare ever did. He rounded a corner and saw a large dent in the wall, it looked as if something was slammed into over and over again. As he crept through the house, kicking something, hearing a clink, he looked down and saw broken glass scattered on the floor, a small puddle of blood with it. Then he heard it, a loud groan from the tired floorboards and looked up. That was when he saw him, a grotesque looking man, with dark beady eyes and an animalistic smile. He looked like a boogeyman of sorts, and for Isaac he always had been. 

“If you're looking for Isaac you best be going,” the man smirked, “the brat is long gone. This is your fault, should have just left him alone.” he let out a laugh.

“What did you do to him? You sick son of a bitch! Where is he?” Scott growled at the man. Rage coursed through his veins as he stared at the monster in front of him. This creature  had caused Isaac so much pain and had never once had to face a consequence for it. That ended today. 

Scott lunged at the man causing him to stumble back into the table. Scott’s vision blurred as his fist drew blood from the man’s face. He couldn’t stop himself. With each punch his anger didn’t seize. He shoved him to the ground, the adrenaline fueling his strength and he landed harsh bone cracking kicks to the man's side. 

“Isaac came downstairs!” he called out assuming his boyfriend was hiding in his room, the feeling of the things hands clawing trying to force itself free from his violent clutches did nothing. He glared down into the man's eyes. He rammed his shoe into the other’s chin and watched as his eyes went closed effectively knocking him out. He glanced at the stairs and ran up them into Isaac’s room, it was almost empty. The one thing left was a shattered picture frame of a blonde woman and a four year old Isaac. Scott frowned not seeing Isaac though. 

He sprinted back down the steps and looked around before he saw a door he could have sworn was a portal to hell, he glanced back making sure the monster was still knocked out. He made his way down the steps and saw a deep freezer with a padlock chain on it and the fear set in, he knew where his boyfriend was. Scott ripped the chain lock off the freezer and opened the lid, the top had his name scratched into it alongside it desparte claw marks aching to be let out. He scooped the blonde boy from the freezer, his heartbeat was vacant and Scott screamed. The anguished cries rang down the street as he held Isaac’s body close to his chest placing isaac’s hand over his chest begging for five more minutes as he looked at the other’s fingertips. The blood under his nails was long dried and the soft purple that stained his lips had properly set in. Dark black and blue bruises were littered over his skin and the mark on his back showed what had been thrown into the living room wall repeatedly. The fear in the other’s ocean blue eyes was still evident behind the peace it seemed death had brought them, Scott gently closed his lovers eyes. 

“I should have been here faster, I love you Isaac. I love you so much” he whispered softly and buried his face in the other’s soft blonde curls. Tears dripped onto Isaac’s pale cold skin. He held him closer to his chest refusing to move. Why should he move? Isaac was never going to move again, Scott could spare 10 minutes of the rest of his lifetime to just hold Isaac in a gentle way. 

Scott felt a hand on his back and it forced him to flinch away, he looked up seeing Stiles, his best friend. The thoughts ran through his head. How could he not get there faster?  How could he have let it get this bad? He should have saved him, that was his thing he saved people. And the one person he needed to save the most he couldn’t. 

“Scott, you have to set him down. My dad will be down here in a little bit, this is being treated as a homicide.” Stiles said, “you're lucky you didn’t kill his dad or else you would be in the back of that cop car not him.” 

“He was supposed to move in with me tonight, Stiles. Almost all of his stuff is at my house,” Scott whispered and refused to let his lover go, he couldn't. “Now what am I supposed to do, Stiles? I was supposed to save him!” Scott growled looking up at Stiles. 

Stiles sat next to Scott and looked at him “come stay with me for a few nights. Being around his things isn’t good for you right now.” Stiles said and tried to convince the boy, “I can call your mom. I'm sure she won't mind. Just don't let yourself be alone with the thoughts.” he begged his best friend and slowly helped him lay Isaac on the basement floor. He tugged Scott off the floor and helped him up the stairs. 

Scott watched the trees pass by as they made their way to the funeral. He thought of the late night phone call they got from the coroner, Isaac died two days before Scott showed up. He kept replaying the text messages in his head. They sounded like Isaac. But that’s the thing with psychopaths, they're good liars. Scott wished he could have noticed a difference in the text, one little thing to show that he was texting the devilish man rather than his lover. But he couldn’t other than the solid timeline from the coroner he would have still thought he texted Isaac those two days. He wanted Isaac back so bad, he wanted to hold the other male in his arms, run his fingers through the soft curls. He wanted to hear Isaac’s gentle whines about Scott messing up his hair but never once stopping him. He just wanted Isaac back. Instead he was left with memories. Memories of the sweetest boy to ever grace the earth. 

Scott thought of the eulogy he didn’t write. He was supposed to give it in less than five minutes. Stiles wrote him one to speak if he couldn’t write it, and it was placed in Scott’s suit jacket pocket. If Scott would have been in the right state of mind he would have thanked Stiles, hugged his best friend tight and never let go. But he was distant, he barely ate, barely slept or left his room. He hadn’t been to school since the incident. He just stayed in bed Isaac’s favorite scarf held close to his face as he took in the now fading smell of his partner. 

They arrived at the funeral and looks of pity followed Scott’s footsteps. It was the smallest funeral ever held in Beacon Hills and it pissed Scott off. Isaac deserved something, he deserved more than the nine people who showed up. He remembered the first funeral he ever went to, it was his mom’s friend. He watched as a woman went up in from the crowd, tears in her eyes barely able to speak a single word through her sobs. He remembered thinking ‘It can't be that hard, no one could be that sad.’ and it’s so easy to think that when you're seven years old. He suddenly understood that woman at seventeen, as he made his way up in front of the small group of people who showed up for his boyfriend. 

  He placed a shaky hand on the coffin in front of him and looked over the lavender flowers on top, they represented calmness and he hoped that is what Isaac had now. He let out a choked sob and shook his head, he couldn’t do this. His knees buckled beneath him and he fell to the ground. He wanted to beg, he wanted to join Isaac. He felt someone crouch down and arms wrap around his body, he glanced back expecting his mother from the way he was being held but it was Stiles. He turned around hugging Stiles. Sobbing into his best friend’s chest. Stiles didn’t pull him back to his chair in the very small crowd. He let his best friend cry into his chest. 

“It’s okay, you’re allowed to cry Scott. You're allowed to feel sad and angry. Let it go,”he whispered and placed his chin on top of Scott’s head as he held him. They had nowhere to be and the people in the crowd would wait until Scott was okay, even if they had to sit there forever. 

“I miss him Stiles and he’s barely been gone a week,” Scott sobbed out “how am i supposed to do the rest of my life without him?” He asked sadly and clung tighter to the boy. “I was supposed to love him for eternity.” he sniffled. 

“And you will Scott, nothing will stop the love you feel for him. It will never end. You may not believe in soulmates but I do Scott, and he was yours. However much like the sad playwrights and poets say, fate is a cruel mistress. But you can’t give her that much power. Let Isaac live on through you Scott. It’s what he what have wanted, and that is cheesy bullshit and what you're supposed to say but it's true. “ he said and pulled his best friend up from the ground, “now, get your ass on front of this crowd and deliver the best goddamn eulogy they have ever heard.” He said and patted his shoulder, “and I will stand by your side the entire time. I will always stand by you Scott.” he promised. 

With Stiles by his side, he cleared his throat, “I was supposed to pre-prepare something, and I couldn’t. I don’t know how to write about Isaac in the past tense because he was supposed to be my future. And I suppose if you believe in the afterlife, he might still be. But right now, I want him to be the present. And I want to stand up here and tell you all the beautiful things about him and his life. But to be honest, his life was a nightmare. But I don’t want to dwell on that. Isaac Lahey is the definition of beautiful in my book. He is so sweet inside and out and never would never wish harm upon anyone. He likes scarves and overplayed ABBA songs. The night he asked me out, we were listening to Honey Honey. And he laughed softly; it was the prettiest sound I have ever heard. He told me he loved me before he asked me out. I think that describes him well. He loves to jump headfirst into things. I love him, and I will love him forever. Until my heart stops beating, and I will think of him every time I hear the disco tones of ABBA, even if I will forever argue with him that the Mama Mia Soundtrack is better." Scott let out a small laugh and glanced at his best friend, “he will always be my forever. Even if he isn’t here I won’t let him die. “ he promised the small crowd and walked to his seat with Stiles, who kept a grounding hand on his arms the whole time. 

[pennylanefics]

They Came Back - Isaac Lahey

a/n: i’ve had this done for a few days now, but i struggled so long to come up with a title and it’s still sucks lol. i haven’t written for isaac in so long and i love him sm :)

•••

Your break-up with Isaac was...shocking and unexpected. It wasn’t something either of you wanted, but the endless fighting, the jealousy, the pack business over relationship business, it was getting too much.

The last fight you had was explosive. It started off calm and quiet, but the more Isaac got worked up, the angrier he got. He was screaming at you, saying that the pack is important to him and you’re just a girlfriend he met after he was turned, so they’ve been around for longer.

Even weeks later, his words still rang in your head, the heartbreak still heavy in your chest. You spend the first few days in bed, not going to school, not talking to anyone; the amount of texts flooding your phone was overwhelming.

When you finally looked through them, you found nothing from Isaac. This hurt you even more, knowing that if he didn’t text to apologize or ask to see you, it means he really meant what he said.

Things were awkward between you and the group after. You two wouldn’t sit next to each other at lunch or in class, forcing the group to take sides of either you or Isaac. Though it was an even split with the boys taking Isaac’s and the girls taking yours. They even tried to get you two back together.

“(Y/N), just go and see him. He probably didn’t mean it,” Allison says to you, plopping on your bed. You, Kira, Lydia, and Allison were at your house, studying for an upcoming chemistry test.

“He doesn’t want to see me. I overheard Scott and Stiles talking about the same thing. They said Isaac wants nothing to do with me and that he’s happy he can finally focus on the pack.”

“This is why I don’t date anymore. Too much work,” Lydia comments. Kira glares at her and rubs your shoulder.

“That’s easy for you to say. I loved Isaac. We were together for almost a year. He was the best guy I’ve been with. All the others were assholes.”

“I’m sure he’s just dealing with the effects of the full moon still. Scott says it can sometimes last days. But it’s a good thing he was able to control it enough to not attack you,” Kira says.

“I know. But still. It’s been weeks since the full moon that happened after our breakup. If he regretted anything he said, he would have reached out by now.”

It was now a month after, and you still hadn’t heard from Isaac. You heard things through others, but he hadn’t texted, called, or talked to you face to face. You accepted it, though, bad things are bound to happen in life, and break ups were a part of that.

It was a stormy night as you drove over to Stiles’ house to return a few DVDs you borrowed from him. When you arrive, you knock on the door and wait. The rain blew against your face, and all you wanted was to get back home and crawl into bed.

“Hey (Y/N),” Scott answers the door.

“Hey. I just came to return the movies I borrowed from Stiles,” you say, holding the stack up. He calls out for Stiles and walks away, and as he does, you notice everyone packed into the living room, spread out on the couches and floor. Stiles suddenly appears from upstairs and hugs you.

“Oh thanks,” Stiles takes the movies from you and sets them down on the stand by the door. “Why don’t you stay? We’re having a movie night.”

As he steps aside to show you everyone, you make eye contact with Isaac, who was not there before when Scott answered. Your breath catches in your throat and you quickly look away.

“Uh, I was actually on my way home from Sarah’s. I need to get home and do homework.” Stiles and Scott give you a weird look.

“It’s...spring break,” Stiles says. Your cheeks heat up at the lame excuse and you laugh nervously.

“Right. Well, I was just gonna relax for the night, read a few chapters of my book and-” You didn’t get to say much before Stiles dragged you inside.

“You’re staying! I don’t care what you say!” He shouts, shutting the door behind you and making you sit on the couch next to Scott and Allison.

“Stiles! I don’t want to!” You groan, getting ready to stand, but he puts his hand on your shoulder to make you stay put. When you glance up at him, you notice a pleading look in his eyes. A look that begs you to stay and to not make anything weird, to act as if things are back to normal.

“Please,” he whispers. “For the sake of the pack.” You sigh and nod, sinking into the couch and making yourself small. You could feel Isaac’s eyes on you, and it made you very uncomfortable.

The rest of the night goes smoothly, surprisingly. Isaac stays put in his spot, not daring to look back at you and make things weird, while you chat with Allison here and there, a smile on your face. You truly forgot that your ex-boyfriend was feet away a few times. But as soon as you remember, your mood changes.

By one in the morning, everyone, including you, had fallen asleep. Stiles had gone up to his room to sleep while Scott and Allison used the spare bedroom. That left you, Isaac, Kira, and Lydia in the living room.

The storm was worse at this point, thunder and lightning consistent, loud and bright. A particularly loud boom of thunder woke you up, so you got up to look out the window to see how severe it is.

As you turn back around, you notice a familiar and really heartbreaking sight, one that you saw too many times and comforted him through it all.

Isaac leaned up against the couch, drinking a glass of water. You could tell his hands were shaking by the way the light from the TV reflected in the water, exposing his anxiety.

“Isaac?” You whisper, for the first time in a month. He glances up at you, and right away, you see the tear tracks on his cheeks. Another sight all too familiar to you. “Are you okay?”

He shakes his head.

“Nightmare?” He nods, taking a sip of his water.

You cautiously step closer and sit back in your spot, not sure what to do or say. You glance around and see the others are still asleep, thankfully.

“Is there anything I can do?” You wonder. He is silent for a few moments before he quietly murmurs two words.

“Come here.” You slide down onto the floor and sit a little bit away from him. He doesn’t move for a second, but when he reaches for your hand, you are surprised.

“I...It’s been happening a lot,” he whispers, close to tears, you could tell. Sensing he was about to break, you pulled him up with you onto the couch and told him to lay between your legs, the position you used to hold him in when he had nightmares.

Almost as soon as you both settled, he broke down. Tears streamed down his cheeks and pooled on your hoodie, his hands tightly grasped your arms to ground himself, and he was shaking.

You hated when he got nightmares. He had them all the time when you first started dating, and the first time you spent the night with him, it freaked you out. But the following morning, he explained why he gets them and what you can do to help next time, and it was always slightly better the following.

It’s been a while since he’s had one, so you were curious as to what triggered them again.

“Are you feeling better now?” You ask him once he’s calmed down quite a lot. He had stopped crying and shaking and now was stroking your forearm with his thumb; this was something he did to keep himself calm and collected.

He nods against your shoulder and inhales deeply, exhaling seconds after.

“What triggered it?” You wonder. “You don’t have to answer if it’s going to upset you.”

“Since you left. Or I guess when we broke up.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. I realized why I stopped getting them, it’s because we slept next to one another every night. You kept me calm before bed so I didn’t have any. But since I’ve been staying at Scott’s and sleeping on my own, they came back. And Melissa and Scott don’t know what to do when I get one. I’ve contemplated so many times calling you, but I didn’t think you’d answer or would be willing to help.”

“Isaac, I would have been more than happy to help. I know how horrible they were when we started dating and I hated seeing you go through that.”

“I know,” he sighs, sitting up from your chest and moving your leg from behind his back into his lap. “I just figured it’s been a while since we saw each other, it would have been weird.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Being forced to stay here by Stiles wasn’t exactly a nice way to see each other again after so long.”

“I’m glad he forced you to stay, though. Because it would’ve been an hour before I calmed down.”

A smile creeps onto your face and you wipe away the remnants of his tears. He leans into your touch and stares into your eyes, holding your wrist to keep your hand in place.

“Can we, or can I, uh, make things up? I feel bad for how things ended and I truly don’t mean or think any of the things I said. I love you so much, (Y/N), and I only recently realized how important you are to me. I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize.”

“It’s okay. I know you’ve struggled with things like this in the past. I’m not gonna hold it against you. And yes. We can make things up.”

Isaac’s entire expression changes and a huge grin appears on his lips. He leans in and hesitantly glances at your lips.

“Can I?” He gestures. You nod and he slowly moves closer and presses his lips to yours. Both of you sigh out of happiness and relief.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips. “And I promise to cherish and care for you.”

“You sound so cheesy,” you tease him, letting out a small giggle. “But I love you too.”

“I never wanna be away from you again.”

“Me either.”

[ezzydean]

“ i could have lost you today! do you know what that would have done to me? ” - Peter & Stiles

Stiles manages to hold his tongue until they’re safely tucked away in Peter’s apartment. Away from their enemies and allies alike. Away from the world that seems so determined to take every last bit of Stiles’ happiness and chew it into mush before spitting it out to dissolve on the concrete of the abandoned strip mall parking lot that is his life, complete with weeds struggling to survive as they spring up through the cracks and crawl across the pitted concrete.

So maybe he needs to take a few deep breaths and step back from the cache of flowing words and artful descriptions his creative writing class has tucked away in his mind.

It doesn’t matter what words he uses. He’s angry and frustrated and on edge and the way Peter is looking at him like he wants to pin him down and gobble him up is not doing anything other than make him even angrier.

“That was dangerous, Peter. Dangerous and stupid and ridiculous and if I’m saying it was stupid? Me. The undisputed king of doing stupid shit without thinking it through? You know it was fucking stupid.”

“Oh please.” Peter rolls his eyes as he saunters towards his bedroom to change out of his dirty clothes. “I’m a werewolf, darling. There is very little in this world that can even leave a scratch that doesn’t heal within a few hours.”

“Yeah and one of those things is a band of pissed off hunters who have gone rogue, no longer follow a code, and are systematically taking out smaller packs one by one.” Stiles doesn’t bother to raise his voice. One: because he’s tired. Two: because he knows that Peter can hear him no matter where he is in the apartment, even if he whispered.

He throws himself on to the couch, spreading out over it so Peter will have to either move him, sit on him, or sit in the chair off to the side when he comes back. Yes he’s being a little bit petty. But he had just watched Peter throw himself into a fight with a bunch of off the rail hunters who were hellbent on destroying anything and everything supernatural that they could. It doesn’t matter that Peter managed to not get hurt this time. It doesn’t matter that Issac and Derek had swooped in with an almost eerily synchronized move to pull the attention off of Peter.

Stiles had still seen it. He had seen the blade oozing with the twisted version of wolfsbane these particular hunters had been known for. He’d seen it centimeters away from Peter’s chest before he had been grabbed by Isaac and yanked out of the way. A millisecond later and that blade would have been in Peter’s heart. He’s going to be having nightmares about Isaac being too late for weeks. About Isaac reaching out and the blade already in Peter’s chest. About Peter on the ground bleeding and gasping and fading away because this particular wolfsbane blend is made to be quick and vicious and damn near impossible to burn out of a werewolf’s system.

Stiles is good. He can do a lot of shit. And maybe, maybe, if they were mated or bonded or had claimed each other or whatever he’d be able to save Peter even on the brink of death.

But they’re not.

He appreciates being the one to warm Peter’s bed and he knows that neither of them are with anyone else. But they’re not really even with each other so it’s only a small consolation.

Peter looms over him and Stiles peels his eyes open and glares up at him. He doesn’t let his eye rake over Peter the way he wants to. Doesn’t let himself give in to these instincts to curl around Peter and protect him.

Peter doesn’t want that. Peter doesn’t want Stiles to take up that position in his life. In his bed? Sure. On his side in a fight? Definitely. By his side in life? No thank you. Peter’s made it pretty clear where Stiles stands in that regard.

He gestures for Stiles to move his legs and when Stiles refuses Peter raises his brows. “What has you in such a mood? I barely even got a scratch on me and the hunters were put in their place. Everyone wins. Except the hunters, who are dead now.”

“Barely got a scratch?” Stiles hops to his feet, rage flooding him so fast that Peter actually leans back when Stiles leans towards him. “Barely a scratch? You were, quite literally, a hairbreadth away from death, Peter. If Isaac hadn’t grabbed you when he did you wouldn’t be here now.”

“But I am. Here and unharmed.” Peter reaches out for him and Stiles bats his hands away. “It was a risk, Stiles. We all take them every time we go into a fight.”

“Not all of us take unnecessary risks, Peter. You’re the one who taught me that unnecessary risks are just that: unnecessary.” Peter crosses his arms across his chest and takes a step back from Stiles.

“Be that as it may I still don’t see what has you so upset about this whole thing. So I took an unnecessary risk. What is the big deal?”

“The big deal? The big deal is that I could have lost you today! Do you know what that would have done to me? What losing you would do to me?”

Peter stares at him for a moment, words sinking in, before he scoffs and looks off towards the windows.

“You’d survive just fine without me. I’m sure you wouldn’t even miss me for that long. There are plenty of others out there who would fall over themselves to be with you,” Peter says quietly.

“I don’t care. I don’t want any of them. I want you, Peter. I don’t care how many people out there would be willing to be with me. I didn’t choose any of them. I chose you.”

Peter’s lip curls as he lets out a growl. “Oh, please. I’m not a choice. You know it. I know it. Hell even the hunters who come to try and kill us all know that I am, at best, a convenient fuck for you.”

Stiles’ mouth is already open to snap back when the mention of hunters makes him snap it shut. The hunters had been talking amongst themselves just before Peter had leapt into the middle of them and the whole plan had gone out the window. Is that what they had been talking about? Is that what they had said?

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“Peter.” He waits until Peter drags his gaze from the windows and looks at him. “You’ve been my choice since before I even knew you were an option.”

“What?”

Well. This was either going to end in some really amazing sex and a new stage of their whatever they’ve been doing or it was going to ruin the best thing he’s ever had. But he is the undisputed king of doing stupid shit without thinking it through after all.

“You’ve been my choice since before I even knew you were an option,” he repeats. “The only reason I haven’t given in to my spark’s need to bond with you, to claim you as mine, is because you’ve never seemed to want anything more than a convenient fuck out of me.”

Peter’s eyes widen at ‘bond’ and ‘claim’ even as he winces at having the ‘convenient fuck’ part thrown back at him. He stares at Stiles and Stiles knows Peter is listening to his heartbeat and subtly scenting the air to measure the truth of Stiles’ words. Stiles learned a long time ago how to control his heartbeat and mask his scent but he had promised to never do it while the two of them were alone and fuck Peter is so blind if he can’t see all the ways Stiles bends for him where he’s steel for everyone else.

“You’ve never wanted that,” Peter finally whispers. “You’ve never—” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “No.”

“I’ve wanted it since the day you gave me a key to your apartment and told me you trusted me with it. You. Peter Hale. Trusting me with the key to your apartment. The key to your safe—”

Well shit.

Peter was blind to how far Stiles was willing to bend for him and Stiles was blind to how much Peter had already bent by him by giving Stiles his trust.

“As much as I loathe to admit it about myself,” Peter says softly as he reaches out for Stiles. “We’re both idiots when it comes to each other, aren’t we?”

Stiles collapses into Peter’s arms with a laugh. “Yeah,” he huffs as he buries his face against Peter’s neck. “But I’m your idiot. And you’re my idiot. So I guess it works out in the end.”

“I guess it does, darling. I guess it does.”

[snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales]

Blue Moon - Part 2

A/N: See masterlist for prompts used. (And the list of amazing people who have helped me with this.) I apologize for how angsty this one got. I tried to mix in sass and fluff to lighten the load, but by nature, it’s just kinda heavy/heavier than the other parts. I promise the next parts have fluff abounding, mixed in with angst, of course. If you need to refresh yourself on the warnings for this story, this would be a good chapter to do so. It gets a bit graphic and dramatic, just like the show, haha! But just to be on the safe side, if you want to make sure, head to the masterlist to refresh your memory.

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Warnings: See Masterlist

Word count: 2,105

Xxx

When you walked into the loft a few short minutes later, Derek’s alarm that someone was trespassing was blaring. He walked over to it and slammed his fist against it, stopping the blaring alarm and blinking light. His eyes searched the loft in the eerie silence that followed, only for the pack members to emerge from behind various walls with hands over their ears, or from out on the balcony. 

You couldn’t contain your giggle at Stiles’ especially pained expression of both annoyance and also fear that Derek would finally follow through on many years of threats. 

“What’s going on?” Derek boomed, and you snickered as more eye rolls were given than jumps at his loud tone and glowing red eyes.

He turned his gaze on you briefly, but you kept your spine straight. After having to sit through a nauseating phone call between him and Jennifer in the car the whole way over here, he deserved it. 

Taking a few steps further into the loft, you tossed down your duffel bag of clothes, inspecting the alarm box. “Damn, Derek. You almost dented the thing. What did it ever do to you?”

“Is this a bad time?” 

Turning at the voice that had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, you saw none other than Jennifer. You felt a growl brewing in your gut and you took a threatening step forward, fighting any physical evidence of being a werewolf for the sake of the pack. 

Derek was quick to blink away his red glow, but you noticed he didn’t really care if she saw it, and that pissed you off even more. 

Stiles came up and gently grabbed your elbow, tugging you back with the rest of them, not even flinching when you turned yellow eyes on him. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

Looking back, you met Derek’s gaze, once again red. He spoke slowly, but you lived with him and knew him well enough to hear the menace in his tone. “Back off.”

Taking her into the hallway and closing the front door behind him, Derek tried to talk her into leaving, promising to see her soon, and to add to your nauseating annoyance, they shared a brief kiss. 

Turning to Stiles, you hissed through your teeth. “She’s brainwashed him. I swear. No human sees that for as short a time as she has and doesn’t even flinch when an Alpha glows his eyes at her.”

“Why would she do that?” Stiles scoffed. 

“I don’t know. But she is an English teacher. If anyone can do it, it’s her.”

Stiles snorted a laugh. “Good grammar? That’s your argument? Oh come on, Y/N. Next thing you’ll be accusing her of being in cahoots with the Alpha Pack, or, or! Maybe, she’s the one ritualistically sacrificing people!” He was laughing loudly, bending over at the waist with the effort now.

“Oh, she’s something.” You huffed, looking at the still closed door. “For now, she’s just my least favorite bit-”

The door slid open to an angry looking Derek. He leveled his gaze on you, which you met with your own stare. 

“Is it gone?” you asked quietly, smirking almost imperceptibly. 

The rest of the pack meeting went by in a blur, the only things you gleaned from it was something about a club downtown to try and trap some Omega or something, and that Derek was an ass to you. 

Your friends filed out of the loft as you went to get changed for training, which you weren’t looking forward to. You knew Derek was going to kick your ass on purpose. 

As you made your way over to the mats to stretch briefly, eyeing Derek angrily the whole time, he ignored you. 

Rising to your feet, you shook your limbs to release any final tension you could and asked as calmly as you could, “What should we do as a warm up today?”

Before Derek could answer the alarm was blaring again, and your friends’ faces painted in fear was the next thing you noticed before a long clawed hand smashed the alarm box off the wall. 

Kali. 

Pointing a menacing claw to the balcony and looking at your friends, they all filed silently outside. “I can’t hurt any of you, Deucalion’s orders, so don’t test me.” Looking to Ethan and Aiden, she spoke gruffly. “Make sure they stay out there.” Looking to you with an evil smile, she took a step closer. “I want them to have a good view of what happens in here.”

Starting to circle you, she chuckled a little. “You want a warm up? How about me?” Her eyes glowed red before she launched at you with a snarl. 

You wrapped in her swiping arms, twisting with her until you could spin away and put distance between you again. “Fine by me,” you huffed, taking a deep breath and smirking. 

Circling one another, she sneered. “Little Beta, Derek’s precious little new one, you’re no match for me.”

“We’ll see,” you grinned, running at her and sliding between her legs set in a wide spread stance, kicking behind you to knock her knees out from under her, causing her to drop to them on the hard cement floor. 

Snarling, she pivoted back to you as you still smirked, rolling out of the way when she launched at you again, this time with a growl. 

You let yourself chuckle. “This is fun!” You glanced to Derek, ignoring his obvious want to jump into the fight. Looking back to Kali, you grinned brightly. “What else you got?”

She went to sweep your legs out from under you suddenly, but you easily jumped out of the way, jumping on top of her as her whole body was low to the ground in the attempt. 

Your hips straddled her waist, your knees pushing into her rib cage making it hard for her to breathe, and held her hands beside her head. “I win.” Your grin brightened. “Tag. You’re it.”

You could hear Stiles laugh in triumph outside the window, and you glanced at him. Kali took advantage of your momentary distraction and smashed her head into yours, loosening your grip on her, and getting to her feet as you staggered back, hand cradling your forehead. You felt the blood temporarily running down your face until your nose healed. 

Pulling your hand down to where the blood was and pulling it away to briefly glance at it, you twisted up your features and hissed at a smug Kali, “Bitch!”

Jumping and launching at her, you swiped to fake her out, grabbing her wrist when she blocked you and twisting it behind her as you also went over and behind her, landing with a thud on your feet firmly, and leveraging her with the arm firmly in your grasp over you to the floor behind you. Her hand still in your grip, as she tried to catch her breath, the wind knocked out of her, you grabbed her other hand and rolled her under your grasp just enough to pin her hands under her back, placing your whole weight on top of her now, straddling her thighs, knees digging into her sides and your hands holding her shoulders down, and thus also her arms. 

“Would you look at that?” you said in fake awe. “I did all of that without any claws or fangs.” You leaned in close to her face, letting your yellow eyes glow brightly. “But you didn’t really think I wouldn’t flash these beauties after taking down an Alpha, now, did you?”

The tapping of Deucalion’s cane came to the front door, followed by a droll, “Are you done, Kali?”

The rest went by in a blur. Somehow you ended up under Kali with your head being pinned down to the floor, along with your stomach being pressed to the floor by a heavy foot you soon realized was Ennis once she passed you off to go and do what she came to do to Derek. 

You were forced to watch in horror, the cries of your pack on the balcony drowned out after the first few, nothing but your heartbeat and Derek’s meeting your ears. You tried to calm yours down to help him also remain calm, trying to reduce the pool of blood spreading from the pole Kali had rammed through his chest. 

Your head pinned to the floor, you could only watch or shut your eyes, any struggle proving futile against the large Alpha. You didn’t dare close your eyes, you kept trying to meet Derek’s, but he kept them averted out of what almost looked more like shame than pain. The one time they did fleetingly meet, you forced a smile on your face, trying to coax one out of him, and you could have sworn the slightest twitch of his lips up was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in that moment.

He closed his eyes briefly at that point, and you kept the smile firmly on your face, though your voice was obviously broken, fighting back tears. 

“Hey, Derek,” you said quietly, not wanting to anger the room full of Alphas. It was already almost overbearing being the only Beta in the room. “Derek?” He opened his eyes and looked at you with a gentle smile and you decided that was even more beautiful than before. “Hey. I’m okay, Derek. I’m fine. So is everybody else.” You glanced at the balcony to show him what you meant before meeting his gaze again, smile still firmly on your face. It was purely to help put him at ease, because all you wanted to do was scream and cry and kick and beat an Alpha’s butt for doing anything to him.

“I’m okay. You’re okay. Well, you will be,” you chuckled, and he also let a small laugh pass his lips before he started coughing up blood, which made your worry rise. You didn’t think it could go any higher.

“Derek! Hey! Derek, it’s okay. We’re all okay. Just listen to him and we’ll figure it out.” He was having trouble breathing. “We always do.”

Tears started streaming down your face despite all your efforts, and you held back the ugly sob you felt brewing in your throat. 

His eyes snapping open after he took a labored breath through his nose, he glanced at you wide eyed, and you realized the pheromones had probably tipped him off. Damn senses. 

They finished their evil speech, pulled the bar from his chest, and released you, leaving you to scramble over to him at neck breaking speeds. 

They took the rod once in his chest and used it to lock the balcony door, keeping the rest of your pack out there, but they were all safe, and they just looked on through the window in silence. 

Cradling Derek’s head in your lap, you ran your fingers through his hair. “Hey, hey, stay with me. You don’t get out of this that easy. Stay awake. You need to stay awake, Derek. Stay with me.”

He reached up, placing a hand on your wrist limply, and you had flashbacks to just hours before in your house before he got the phone call. His smile weak, he gave a just as weak squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m stubborn, remember? You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

“Damn it,” you mocked, making him chuckle, and a little bit of color returned to his cheeks as he healed. 

His face turned somber. “You know what they’re asking me to do, right?”

You nodded. “I know what they’re telling you to do. And I know we will find a way to fix it. We always do. Plus, if you didn’t see, I’m a badass.” You grinned. 

He grinned as well, a soft chuckle passing his lips. “Yeah you are. That was pretty epic. Who taught you to fight? They must be pretty amazing. Like, almost as good as me.”

You laughed loudly, laying his head down on the floor again, softly, and ignoring his groan. “I’m going to let the others in so they can help me get you off this floor with the least amount of pain for you and clean all this up.” Realizing how much blood was on the floor, you went back to his face, resting a hand on his forehead and raking it back over his hair, resting it on top of his head. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Derek. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Both sentiments are mutual,” he huffed, smiling mischievously. 

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02, @palaiasaurus64, @shydinosaurcandy, @lucyqueenofthestars, @c-breanne1999, @l4life, @ethereallysimple, @teenwolffan-with-nolife, @bellabadacadabra, @lilostif16, @wandas-love, @emily500, @babygirl-angel-love What’s This?

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 23

--------

2000

We were ten years old, Derek and I. Playing a game of hide and seek with his sister Laura. It felt like it was more a game of “let the kids run around and not bother me”. We were deep in the woods outside of their home, laughing and squealing delight as we ran and ran. That is until lightning flashed through the sky and thunder boomed immediately after. Spooked, we ran further from the thunder and lightning, finding a small improvised shelter that we had made a few years before when we would play cops and robbers. Derek’s uncle Peter had helped us build it, occasionally playing the sheriff when he deemed us “less annoying than usual”. 

Once inside the little hut, we sat and decided to wait out the storm or at least until someone came to get us. It was mostly dry with only or two leaks in the roof. We waited a while in silence, only the rain and wind howling filled the air. It was almost peaceful. I had been sitting there, literally twiddling my thumbs when I noticed the anxious movements Derek was making. He was tapping his foot against the soft earth and he was repeatedly cracking his knuckles. 

“What is it?” I asked. He seemed to snap out of his trance and looked at him, then looking away with a slight blush on his cheeks. 

“I was just thinking about what my mom said last year... About us being arranged in a marriage.” 

“What about it?” I turned my body so that I could face him. 

Derek rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I dunno... I guess that I wouldn’t want to be forced into a marriage with you. It doesn’t seem fair.” 

“You’re right.” I glanced out towards the woods, smiling fondly, “I want to fall in love. I want someone like Dimitri in Anastasia.” I sighed dreamily. 

“Wasn’t he a con-artist?” Derek raised an eyebrow. I shoved him playfully. 

“No...Well, yes. But he doesn’t take the money the Duchess offered him as a reward because he wants Anastasia to be happy.” 

“He’s a cartoon.” 

“And you’re a dork.” I shook my head, “What about you? Who would you wanna marry someday?” 

Derek thought for a moment, “I guess... I would want someone like Anastasia. She’s super badass and defeats the villain all by herself. She also went through a lot and did a lot even when she didn’t remember who she was, she fought for her future.” 

As sweet as that was...

“She’s a cartoon.” I mocked his voice. He grinned and shoved me, starting a wrestling match that ended with Talia and Peter finding us. They brought us home and made us hot chocolate. 

-

After landing, Michael and I had taken a ferry to the Shetland islands to Sumburgh, the village on the island where the Lunar Circle was settled. We actually were brought to a castle, which was already insane enough. The next insane thing was a statue just inside the massive doors into the main room of the castle. It was a humanoid with the head of a wolf, wearing a kilt and armor. The creature also carried a sword. 

“What is that?” I whispered to Michael. 

“The Wulver. A werewolf that had come to peace with his wolf and human sides. He was friendly to locals and they seemed fine with him. That’s when hunters came and tried to kill him. He was the reason for founding the Lunar Circle - coexistence. 

“Can I do that?” I whispered under my breath. 

“Unfortunately, no.” Our attention was brought to a man with a thick Scottish accent walking into the room, “Our world has lost touch with the old magic. But maybe someday we can bring it back.” He was average height, with salt and pepper hair that was on the longer side and a bit shaggy. His eyes were a kind blue color. He held out his hand to me. 

“Praetor Lachlan McLeod.” The stranger introduced himself, “It’s so good to finally meet you, (Y/N).” So this was the man who wrote the letter, it was nice to have a face to a name. I shook his hand and smiled politely. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Praetor.” From my googling, Praetor was a Roman term for an official, which was an interesting concept since Rome had completely invaded all of England, Ireland, and Scotland and almost wiped out their culture. But whatever. 

“Please, call me Lachlan.” 

I nodded, “Okay, Lachlan.” He held both of my hands in his smiling sympathetically. 

“I want to extend my condolences, again, for your loss. Your mother and father did so much for the Lunar Circle.” 

Slowly, I slipped my hands from his, “Thank you... I just have a lot of questions about them.” 

“All in due time, my dear. You’ve had a long flight and I’m sure that you’re exhausted.” 

Michael sighed, “Oh, we sure are-”

 “I’m not tired. I want answers.” I said sternly. Michael looked incredibly nervous which made me wonder how high up this Lachlan guy was, “I appreciate your concern, sir, but I am coming from a place where I am just now remembering my parents were a part of a secret werewolf society that gave them the tools to take all of my memories away and said society wouldn’t allow me to be accompanied by my partner. It took a lot for him to let me come by myself, especially since he had never trusted the Lunar Circle in the first place.” 

“Ah, yes, Derek Hale.” He said, almost amused, “I remember his mother’s rejection letter. It was somehow very personal. I think she referred to me as ‘a spineless coward who would rather fraternize with the enemy than fight them.” 

I clicked my tongue, “Sounds like Talia.” Michael nudged my side, signally for me to chill. 

“And another thing-”

“Oh no.” Michael hid his face in his hands.

“This guy.” I pointed to Michael, “He killed my parents, isn’t there some kind of punishment for that?”

Michael ripped his hands from his face, “Hey, that wasn’t my fault.”

“Mr. Keaton’s unfortunate affliction caused by Peter Hale has been reviewed.” Lachlan put his arms behind his back, “I assure you. It was all the Hale’s doing.”

I jerked forward, Michael had to grab my arms to hold me back, “Derek is not his uncle.” My eyes flashing red. 

Lachlan raised his eyebrows and smiled, leaning down and flashing his alpha red eyes at me in return, “I’m sure he’s not.” The red left his eyes and he stood up straight, “Take her to the infirmary and then straight to bed.” He said to Michael, his eyes never leaving mine. I kept my eyes on him, even as he started to walk away, this kilt swaying with each step.

“The infirmary? Why?” Michael asked. 

“I believe Miss (Y/L/N) is carrying something.” He grinned, “Something that may calm her temper.” 

-

After a blood test in the infirmary, we were escorted to two rooms in the castle. Of course, this left me alone with my thoughts that I really didn’t want to think about. Knowing that Derek and everyone else was back home fighting against the alpha pack while I was in this ancient castle where I haven’t gotten the answers I wanted. Why was I even here? To take up my parents’ mantle? Whatever it was, I didn’t want it. I just wanted to go back home and help. I looked out the window of the castle, seeing the moon high in the sky. 

I mean, what could they tell that I didn’t already know? My parents took my memories to keep me safe and look where it got them? Burned to ashes. And what else? I was only stalked by a psychopath and had to watch my friend struggle to not hurt anyone. I mean, hell, I was still struggling with the change. Uncle Noah was still processing what I was. Yes, he’s supportive but to what end? And Stiles? I wasn’t there to protect him when he was kidnapped and beaten by the Argents and now I was millions of miles away and if he was in trouble there was nothing that I could do. And if anything happened to Derek and I wasn’t there to save him? What was the point of even being alive? I would be without them, helpless and guilty, all because of some stupid secret society. 

My chest got tighter and tighter as my emotions ran high. My thoughts and feelings were moving so quickly that it felt like I didn’t have control of my own mind. My hands clenched tight, I could feel all of my features shift. Coarse hair growing down the sides of my face, the bridge of my nose tightening. I screamed loudly, the high pitch lowering into a loud roar. 

“This is your fault!” She shouted, standing up, “Take me home!” She lunged forward. Michael lunged forward, using the shield to knock her back across the room and into the window. Surprisingly, it didn’t break. She fell to the ground, looking up quickly. 

MICHAEL

From the loud roar that just came from the next to his, Michael had a feeling that the Sheriff had been right. She was a time bomb and she just exploded. Michael quickly grabbed a shield from one of the suits of armor that for some reason always decorated castles and made his way into (Y/N)’s room. (Y/N) was on the bed, tearing at pillows. There were feathers and fluff flying all over the room. She was in full shift, her eyes fiery red, her canines sharp. Her eyes took him in, snarling loudly. She jumped off the bed, landing in front of him on all fours. Michael jumped back, shield held tight in his hand. 

“Come on, (Y/N)!” He tried to put on a brave face, “You just need to calm down and get some rest.” 

“SCREW YOU!” She shouted, lunging again. This time, Michael moved on the way, letting her slam into the door, which also didn’t break. 

“That’s a good door.” He said to himself. Michael looked from the door and back to the angry werewolf. She was seething with rage and one step closer to killing him. 

“Think about this.  You don’t want to kill me!” 

“Yes, I do! I hate you!”

“Hate is such a strong word...” He said nervously. (Y/N) lunged again and was met by a door to the face. Lachlan had opened the door and they both looked down at (Y/N) on the floor. She was on her behind, rubbing her forehead. Lachlan sighed, reaching down to help (Y/N) up. 

“I seem to have underestimated your anger. Please, walk with me.” 

(Y/N)

Lachlan led me out of the castle and down to the grounds. In the back of the stone walls, there was a large garden. The Praetor hadn’t said anything since we had been out here, but I think that’s what he wanted. The moon and the atmosphere around us was calming, must be the magic here. 

“I apologize for dismissing your concerns earlier.” Lachlan said finally, leading us to the cliff side where we could see the waves crashing against the rocks, “You have been through a lot lately. More than any new werewolf is expected to handle as well as you have.” When I looked at him, I could tell he was being genuine. 

“I just...” I sighed, leaning against a nearby oak, “I didn’t want to come here. I didn’t want to leave my partner behind. And... I didn’t want to meet the people who told my parents to take my life from me.” 

Lachlan looked up at the moon, the wind flowing through his hair, “Your concerns are near and dear to my heart. My own parents used the Wolf Eclipse spell on me after I mated with a she-wolf from a rival clan. The look in her eyes when I told her I didn’t know who she was... I see it every time I close my eyes. And then I lost her.” His voice shook a bit, “I never forgave them after that.” He looked back at me, “When your parents told us that they had done the spell after the Hale fire, we told them it was a bad idea. You needed to be stronger than ever, maybe even leave Beacon Hills, but they became too attached to the community, to the sheriff and his son.” They stayed for them... I have no idea what my life would have been like without Stiles in it. It was so different. That was a life I didn’t want to think about because it was a life without my best friend and his insane antics. It was a life without Uncle Noah who loved me no matter what. It would be a life without Derek, or at least a life where I wouldn’t be there to meet him again. 

“I remember now that my father thought we were safe.” I wrapped my arms around myself, “Chris Argent is loyal to his word and the code his family is supposed to follow. Unfortunately, he is the only one who follows that code. Even his own daughter was corrupted by his father and his sister and she was dating a werewolf.” 

“Unfortunately, not every hunter can be Chris Argent. From our understanding, he is the only one fighting with his head while the others see us as inhuman.” He chuckled, “You might even say that we are more human than they are.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. 

“Lachlan?” 

“Hmm?” 

“What am I doing here? Why bring me all this way?” 

Lachlan looked back up at the moon and smiled, “Well, it was originally to restore your memories. Thankfully, that resolved itself. Now, since you are the only member left of your clan - an alpha was two sparks - we were hoping that you could spend some time with us to relearn the basics. And I also want you to relax, experience your culture, your legacy.” 

“That sounds great and all. But I don’t have time to do that. I need to get back to Derek.” 

“(Y/N), you know that it is too dangerous for the both of you to be there. I don’t want you to experience what it’s like to lose a mate. It’s... It’s soul crushing. Losing who you love most - that is the worst pain anyone can feel.” Lachlan turned to go back to the castle, “Think about it. You aren’t a prisoner here. You may leave whenever you like. But I think you could do great things with just a little help.” With that, his footsteps faded into the darkness; leaving me with only my thoughts, the moonlight, and the ocean below. I had to make a decision, one that would ultimately decide my future as an alpha. I just wish someone I knew was here to help me make this decision. If only Uncle Noah were here. He was so level headed and wanted the best for me, but the werewolf drama was probably too much for him already. And Derek would want me to hone in on my skills, even if that meant going into battles alone and possibly losing them. 

I just wish it wasn’t this hard. 

-

After pressing Derek’s contact, I pressed the phone to my ear and listened to it ring. I had no idea what time it was back home, I just needed to at least pretend I was talking to him. 

“Hey Der.” I smiled, “I know it’s late or early. Honestly, I’m not sure. But I wanted to call you and tell you how today went. The flight was long, the food was okay. Uh they made me get a blood test for whatever reason. Oh, and there’s this thing called the Wulver and he was a werewolf that came to peace with his human and animal side. Lachlan’s really nice and doesn’t want to take me from you so the coast is clear on that one. And uh I remembered something today. When we were kids, we got lost in the woods in a storm and we talked about crushes. Funny how you had a crush on a girl who lost her memories.” I laughed, “Anyway... I miss you. And I love you. And I’ll be back as soon-”

I was cut off by a beep and a message telling me that the allotted time of this  message was over. Sighing, I set my phone down and flopped back on the extravagant bed that seemed to form to my body in just the right way. All the fluff and feathers had been cleaned by the time I came back so I should probably thank whoever the cleaning staff were. All I can do is sleep and hope that tomorrow will give me better answers. 

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

Read part 24 here!

I watched Inside today so I am no feeling good. 

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[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.39

Word Count: 2,319

Characters: Derek Hale, Peter Hale, Isaac Lahey, Reader

Pairings: Eventual Deek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, some fluff

A/N: last part of the year?

A/N 2: Can literally anyone leave some feedback on the series? I want to know if people are actually enjoying it

A/N 3: Happy Holidays

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

“Derek, what are you doing?” you felt his hands travel down your waist as he stood behind you.

“I missed you,” he whispered. 

He pressed his lips towards your neck as you closed your eyes softly, clenching your jaw.

Before you could protest, you felt your back hitting the wall, Derek’s lips pressed against yours as he put his hands on your thighs, lifting you gently. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he began walking to his bed. He put his hand on your head, pulling it back roughly, pressing his lips on your neck.

You breathed heavily, closing your eyes as you held onto him tightly.

---

You opened your eyes, taking a deep breath as you jumped up, feeling your neck aching. You must have fallen asleep.

You sat on a chair, next to Derek’s bed as he still laid there, unconscious.

Maybe he was really tired, and maybe that’s the reason he didn't wake up.

You checked your phone, scrolling past the messages from everyone. It was nearly 7 AM, which had made about four hours since Derek collapsed. 

Your mind thought back to your dream before you shook your head.

You’d be lying if you said you didn't miss him, that you didn't still love him, even after everything. But the pain you felt after he cheated on you, even after he said he didn't love you and he never did, it still hurt. You tried to ignore it for the most part. The two of you were doing just fine as friends for the past couple of weeks, before last night anyway.

You began to grow more worried, seeing Derek still asleep. You ran your fingers through his hair, looking down at him.

“(Y/N)?” his eyes were still closed as he said your name softly.

“Derek, I’m here,” you frowned, holding his hand.

“What happened?” he opened his eyes, holding your hand before sitting up.

You sat next to him, stroking his hand softly.

“I don’t know. You just collapsed. Are you okay?” you asked.

He nodded, rubbing his head.

“Headache?” you said.

He nodded again, as he massaged his head softly.

“I don’t think drugs work on wolves,” you said.

“Do you have any idea what happened?” you asked.

“No. Well, sort of. I’ve been blacking out since I healed Cora,” he replied.

“Since you healed Cora? It’s been weeks,” you frowned.

“I’m aware. But I’m fine. I’ll get through it,” he said.

“That’s not good,” you shook your head.

“I'll be fine. Uhm, thanks for staying with me,” he nodded.

You smiled softly as you heard Peter’s voice, as the door opened.

“I didn't interrupt anything, did I?” his eyes motioned to Derek’s bed then back at the two of you.

You let go of Derek’s hand, inhaling deeply as you stood up.

“I’ll see you later,” you smiled softly, walking away.

---

You stood at the door, in front of the McCall’s house. Your phone had died before you had a chance to text Isaac. You knew he was staying with Scott now.

“(Y/N)? It’s been a while,” Melissa wrapped her arms around you tightly, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, it’s been a while. How are you doing?” you stood next to her, walking into the McCall house as the two of you walked to the kitchen.

“Well, everything is crazy, but we’re managing,” she started.

You heard someone’s voice behind you, turning around as your face dropped.

“Agent McCall,” you said in a monotone voice.

“(Y/N),” he replied with the same tone.

“I think you need to get to work,” Melissa motioned to Agent McCall, glaring at him.

Before either of you said anything, he walked away.

“So… he’s staying with you,” you started.

“He’s on the couch, it’s nothing special,” she shrugged.

“I know it can't be easy,” you replied softly, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“As I said, I’m managing,” she smiled softly.

“Well, how about you sit down? I know Scott and Isaac probably aren't up yet, so I’m gonna make you some coffee and some breakfast,” you said, leading her to a chair.

“Oh, (Y/N), no,” she started.

“I insist,” you said.

She nodded softly, as you began making some eggs, and some coffee.

“Hey, Mrs.McCall, me and Scott,” you heard Isaac start as his face dropped, looking at you.

“Hey,” you said.

“Oh my god,” he ran to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you hugged him back.

“You’re… alive! Where have you been?! Why didn't you answer my calls? Or texts? Or tell me you’re okay? You’re back! Oh my god,” he began to bombard you as ran your fingers through his hair.

“I’ll explain it all later,” you shook your head.

“Uhm, no. You’ll take me to school and you’ll tell me everything,” Isaac tugged on your arm.

“Wait, I’m making Melissa breakfast you little needy. You need to sit down also,” you motioned to the chair as he rolled his eyes, sitting down.

You could see the smile on Melissa’s face as you continued making eggs for the four of you.

---

“That’s… something. No powers? At all?” he asked softly.

“Not until I figure this demon crap out. But being human is so boring,” you sighed.

“So, you basically, spent the last few weeks with Derek,” Isaac started, raising an eyebrow at you.

“What are you trying to say?” you frowned.

“Nothing, I’m just saying to use a condom,” you immediately smacked Isaac’s arm.

“Shut up. God, you're worse than Stiles,” you sighed.

“So, you’re telling me you don’t still like him?” Isaac asked.

“I didn't say that,” you shook your head.

“So you do like him,” Isaac said.

“I didn't say that either,” you sighed.

“I don’t get it,” Isaac shook his head.

“I’m saying that I don't want to talk about this right now, okay? Of course, I still care about him, but I’m not ready to forgive him for Jennifer. About what he said. I just don't want to talk about this, okay?” you raised your voice slightly, resting your head on your hand, and your elbow on your car window.

“I’m sorry,” Isaac said, his voice low.

“It doesn't matter. Sorry,” you shook your head.

“Well, for what it’s worth, you two belong together,” Isaac replied.

You scoffed slightly, driving into the parking lot of Beacon Hills High. 

“Well, how are things going with you and Allison? Are you still madly in love with her?” you replied.

“We’re friends, okay? And Scott’s one of my best friends,” Isaac rolled his eyes.

“I thought you said Scott said it was okay,” you asked.

“He did. I still feel bad,” Isaac sighed.

“Well, that guilt is what makes you a good person,” you gave him a fake smile as he rolled his eyes.

You smirked, before hearing your phone off, getting a text from Derek.

“Hell no,” Isaac said, as you looked up, seeing the twins approach Scott.

“They’re… what's going on?” you frowned.

“So much crap has happened since you left. For example, Scott, Stiles, and Allison are going crazy. But that's not important right now, I’ll tell you later. I need to go help Scott,” Isaac grabbed his bag.

You kissed his forehead softly.

“Be careful,” he waved to you as he got out of your car, walking to Scott.

---

“Stop moving,” you glared, taking the needle as you stuck it into Peter’s finger, hearing him yell out.

“You know, you don't have to be so rough,” he winked as you pulled the string through his finger.

“That hurts,” he grunted.

“Good.” 

You continued sewing his finger back on, as he continued whining. You ignored it, purposely pushing the needle into the wrong place.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Derek said, covering a small laugh.

“I don’t get why I can’t help you with this,” you shrugged.

“You don’t have powers. It’s just Peter,” Derek assured you.

“Exactly. It’s just Peter,” you sighed.

You turned to face Peter, before clenching your jaw, running your fingers through your hair as you sat down in front of him.

“So, now’s the part you tell me what I risked my life and digit for,” Peter said.

Derek looked at you, before opening the box, revealing Talia’s old claws. It was all that was left of her after the fire.

You held Derek’s hand softly, knowing this wasn't going to be easy for him. 

“They’re all that was left of her after the fire. I need to ask her something, and this is the only way to do it,” Derek explained.

You laid the claws on the table, looking back at Peter then at Derek.

“Fine, but under one condition. I get to keep them afterward,” your face dropped as you gave Peter a look.

“Sentimental value. She was your mother, she was my sister,” you could tell Derek was holding back his tongue as he raised an eyebrow.

“What? Am I not allowed a little bit of sentiment?” Peter exasperated.

You looked at Derek, as he looked back at you. He motioned to Talia’s nails silently, asking you your opinion.

You shrugged, shaking your head. It was his choice.

“Fine,” Derek put the claws back into the box, handing them to Peter.

Peter smiled cheekily, as you got up, walking away with Derek.

“What do you think he wants with them?” you asked.

“I don’t know, but he can’t do anything that bad… right?” Derek asked.

You leaned against the wall, as he crossed his arms, standing in front of you.

“I have no idea. We’ll just have to keep a close eye on him,” you said.

“Well, let’s do this, yeah?”

---

You sat on your knees, in front of Derek while you held his hand, stroking it softly.

“Peter, I swear if something goes wrong, I’ll kill you,” you threatened. 

“That won’t be my fault,” he replied.

“Whatever,” you glared at him, looking back at Derek.

 Derek opened his mouth to speak, before shutting his eyes tightly, squeezing your hand as Peter stuck Talia’s claws into the back of Derek’s neck.

You looked at Peter, as he breathed heavily, clearly struggling as Derek’s grip on your hand softened.

You waited there anxiously for a few minutes, before Peter pulled away, pushing away from Derek. Derek gasped for air, his face covered in sweat. 

“What happened? What did you see? Did she say anything about me?” Peter immediately began asking Derek questions, as you stood up next to him.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He nodded softly, clenching his jaw as he looked at Peter. His eyes were bloodshot as he looked up at you.

Peter continued to nag him, asking him about Talia as Derek ignored him. Derek stood up, pushing past Peter as he walked out of the loft.

“Derek?” you ran after him, running out of the loft.

---

“That’s… a lot. Peter’s the last person I’d expect to have a kid,” you stood outside the loft, leaning against your car door as Derek stood in front of you.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Derek scoffed.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly.

“Yeah… I don’t think I realized how much I missed her,” Derek started.

“Don’t you ever miss your mom?” Derek asked.

“Well, I don't… sometimes I do. I don’t like thinking about her,” you shook your head softly

“It’s been almost 8 years and I… I still think about them. About all of them,” Derek said softly.

“But that’s normal. Derek, you went through something… something big,” you said.

“I lost just as much as you. You barely seem to think about it,” Derek raised an eyebrow.

“That’s… no,” you started.

“Your grandparents are dead, your mom’s siblings, all dead, you don't have any other cousins or any other family that’s still alive. Well, besides your dad… but,” you tensed slightly as you looked down, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“(Y/N)?” he said softly. Your eyes watered as you shook your head.

“My dad’s not… he’s dead,” you whispered.

Derek was silent for a minute before speaking.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked.

“I lost control of my powers. I killed him,” you sniffled as you turned away from Derek.

“It's not your fault,” he stroked your cheek softly, turning your face to look up at him.

You looked up at him nervously, before inhaling deeply.

Screw it

You stood on your toes, leaning up as you pressed your lips against his.

Oh crap

You immediately regretted your actions as you broke the kiss, your face red as you shut your eyes in embarrassment.

He put his hands on your face, kissing you once more as you stumbled back slightly, hitting your car as it began to honk loudly.

You broke the kiss, as the two of you began to laugh.

“Nice way to end the night, yeah?” Derek smirked.

“Oh, shut up,” you scoffed.

You heard your phone go off, getting a text from Isaac.

“You have to go?” he asked.

You nodded softly, wrapping your arms around your waist.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

“See you tomorrow,” you kissed him again, before leaving.

---

“Isaac,” you dropped your bags, running to him as he wrapped his arms around himself, rocking softly.

“What happened?” you wrapped your arms around him tightly, as he held onto you.

“I-It was so cold… I can’t stop thinking about… my dad, t-the freezer,” Isaac stuttered as his voice broke. You could feel his tears on your sleeve as you stroked his hair softly.

“What happened?” you asked.

“I-I don’t…” he began to hyperventilate, gasping for air as you shushed him, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

“You don’t have to talk, kid,” you whispered.

You heard Isaac cry softly, laying down in your lap, as you continued to hold him, running your fingers through his hair softly.

[mca-attack21]

Shape Shifted - part 2

Hi guys! This is the next part of the Stiles Sis Fic series based loosely (and even that is generous) off of season two episode two. For the rest of this series and more of my writing, click here.  Enjoy!

You were starting to contemplate how you were going to explain what was about to happen to your father, when by some miracle he got called back into the station. Your relief was short-lived though as with every minute that passed, Isaac was struggling more and more. His senses were on overdrive, he felt every muscle in his body, and both his senses and emotions were heightened. He felt the fear of the hunters, the sadness of losing his dad, the anger at his dad for being in this position in the first place. But he also felt safe being with you and an overwhelming need to protect you, he was trying to channel into that and ignore everything else. What had you called it earlier? Finding an anchor. Maybe for now you could be his anchor. 

“Isaac, you still with me?” you asked after he had zoned out for a minute. 

“Yeah, sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, you’re doing great. I just wanted to check in, is there anything you need?”

“Just keep talking, it helps. Keeps me focused.” 

So, you decided to catch him up on everything that had happened in your life since that fated night before school when Scott got bit. Before you could finish though, you were cut off by Isaac’s sudden shift in demeaner. His teeth were clenched, breaths forceful. He tensed up and was on the verge of losing control all together. 

“Isaac,” you said cautiously. 

“You have to go, I don’t want to hurt you!” 

“Listen Isaac, this is the worst of it. Right here, right now, you just have to fight it out a little longer and it will all be over.”

“I can’t! Please go,” he struggled, all but growling. 

“Isaac I’m not leaving, and you aren’t going to hurt me. You are the strongest person I know, you just need to focus on what it is that makes you human. Find an anchor. I believe in you, you can do this,” you reassured him, taking a step towards him. 

Isaac recoiled away from you, afraid of what he might do. Deep down he could feel it, the bloodlust, he could hear your pulse, he could...  what were you doing?

He looked at your hand which had reached for his now clawed one. You gently took it in yours and carefully placed it over your heart. You were grounding him the way you used to do when he had panic attacks. He could feel your heart beat and the calming rise and fall of your chest.

“Hey, look at that,” you spoke. 

Isaac looked up and realized for the first time that his claws and fangs had retracted. His senses were still heightened, but it was more manageable. He glanced at the clock, he had made it. Relieved, he pulled you into a tight hug and you let out a breath that you hadn’t even known you were holding.

“Congratulations on making it through your first full moon.”

The two of you didn’t say much else, electing instead to crawl in your bed and allow the exhaustion to take over.

Meanwhile:

When Scott and Stiles arrived at Scott’s house, the plan was for a quiet night in. That was at least before Allison called. Apparently, she overheard a conversation between her grandfather and her dad in which it was revealed that Isaac’s dad was killed by something supernatural, but not a werewolf. If that wasn’t bad enough, they were sending hunters to Isaac’s house, with the intention to put him out of his misery if he so much as looked at the full moon. On top of that, they were apparently suspicious of Lydia as well.

“We have to do something, if Isaac’s at his house Y/n’s there too,” Stiles realized.

“You’re right, but with the hunters there we can’t just show up or they’ll expect something,” Scott added.

“I’ll go,” Allison decided, “his father was just killed, so I can say I was just checking in on him as a friend. Besides, nobody knows that I know about him or their plans.”

“You are not going alone, it’s too dangerous,” Scott argued.

“I’m an Argent, they won’t do anything to me, besides, I can handle myself,” she reminded.

“They might not, but if this is Isaac’s first full moon, I’m not taking that risk. I’ll meet you there,” Scott decided, hanging up before she could object.

“I gotta go. See if you can sneak into the morgue or the station or something and get photos of what happened to Isaac’s father. After that maybe swing by and check on Lydia,” Scott instructed as he searched for a hoodie. 

Before Stiles could say anything else, Scott was sprinting out the door and towards Isaac’s house. Careful not to be seen, he made it inside and was soon met by Allison. It was soon revealed that neither you or Isaac were there.

“Where should we check next?” Allison asked, “Scott?”

“I thought I could control this,” Scott struggled.

“It’s okay Scott, what do you need me to do?”

“You have to leave. I can’t - It’s not safe,” Scott said as his breathing began to speed up. 

“I’m not leaving you Scott, there has to be something we can do,” Allison decided bravely.

After some thought, it was decided that Allison would lock him in the freezer. They same way Isaac’s dad had done to him on far too many occasions. She reluctantly tightened the chains around it before locking them. She had originally planned on staying by Scott’s side, but she heard noises coming from upstairs. She thought that maybe it could have been you and Isaac, so she cautiously made her way up.

But instead it was one of her father’s men who had come to take out Isaac. She knew that she had to keep him from going downstairs and discovering Scott at all costs, especially if he wasn’t fully in control.

Upon seeing her, the many questioned why she was here and where Isaac was. Before she could lie though, a lizard-like creature burst through the window. She screamed and raced forward to get a knife before backing herself into the corner. The creature didn’t even glance in her direction, its sole focus on the hunter before it. Before she or the other hunter could react, it swiped the back of the hunter’s neck and then brutally shoved its claws in his stomach and dragged them up through his chest. Allison screamed again at the gruesome sight, not prepared for the horrifying gurgling noises that followed.

In the basement, Scott was doing everything in his power to escape the freezer. He had never heard Allison scream like that and he knew that she was in danger. He could protect her if he could just get out! He furiously pounded at the lid until it finally popped open. Within seconds, he was upstairs standing between Allison and the...what is that thing?

But as soon as he arrived, the creature darted off into the night.

He didn’t even consider following and instead turned to Allison holding her arms as he looked for any sign of injury, “Are you alright? Did it hurt you?”

“No I’m fine. It didn’t touch me,” she said softly trying to ignore the shock of the whole situation. Scott pulled her into a tight hug for a moment before his eyes met the body and pool of blood that were mere feet away.

The scent of the blood was nauseating, and the smell of Allison’s fear was not much better. “We have to get out of here, before more hunters show up” Scott said leading his girlfriend away from it all.

Meanwhile: 

Stiles had completely struck out at the police station. The case photos that he snuck in to get weren’t even in his dad’s office. And as he was trying to sneak out of the office, he was caught by one of the deputies. Lying on his feet was not a strong suit of Stiles’ and he was forced to sit there and wait until his dad came to collect him.

He was agitated as this was supposed to be a quick in and out so that he would still have time to check on Lydia. He pulled out his phone and debated whether or not to call you, he knew you were probably still mad at him, but he was both worried about you being alone with Isaac (especially with the hunters involved) and he knew that you would be far more likely to get a response from Lydia than he would. 

He swallowed his pride and dialed your number only for it to go straight to voicemail. So either your phone was dead, you are ignoring him because your mad, or your in trouble. Great. He decided to call Scott next but once again, there was no answer. Feeling a growing sense of dread, he decided to call Allison, and then he realized that he still didn’t have her number.

Before he could call anyone else, his dad arrived with a disapproving look.

“You know that it is a crime to break in to the police station, in to the sheriff’s office, so do you wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking?”

Luckily for him, Stiles had been provided with enough time to think of a valid excuse, “Honestly, I was trying to figure out what you knew about Isaac’s dad’s case. Y/n and him are close and I wanted to see if there was anything that I could do to help.”

“You can help by being there for him, not by committing a felony and trying to get me fired,” your dad rolled his eyes.

“Do you know where Y/n is?” Stiles tried changing the subject.

“She is at the house with Isaac, where I am supposed to be to keep an eye on him as he is still technically a suspect in a murder investigation,” his dad sighed, Stiles had good intentions, though he always seemed to have a knack for putting his nose where it didn’t belong. “Come on, let’s go home, we’ll talk about this later.”

Stiles felt somewhat relieved, though he still didn’t like the idea of you being alone with Isaac. Then he realized that he needed to distract your guys’ dad so that he wouldn’t accidently find out about Isaac’s secret. However, that wasn’t a problem as he was soon called to a crime scene. Another murder. He told Stiles to go straight home, and then quickly left the station.

It was as Stiles got in Roscoe that Scott called him back. He briefly explained what had happened and what he saw of the creature. After Allison had calmed down, she went to Lydia’s so she would have an excuse for being away from home. At this point it was after midnight, and the power of the moon was starting to dwindle. Scott asked is Stiles had heard from you at all, and Stiles told him that he knew you and Isaac were at your house, to which he was headed now, but that your phone was off. Stiles also told Scott that he should go home and lay low, but he doubted his friend would actually listen. 

When he pulled into the driveway he mentally braced himself for what he was going to find. His thoughts went back to Scott’s first full moon and his bloodthirst and complete lack of control. And that was Scott, he couldn’t even imagine what it would be like for someone like Isaac who had been through everything that he had been through. He made his way upstairs and hesitated momentarily outside your door. He took a deep breath and opened it, allowing the light from the hallway to flood in. He was slightly shocked to see that you Isaac were laying on your bed. There were no signs that anything out of the ordinary had happened.

The light woke you up and you squinted to see who opened your door. It was Stiles, you rolled your eyes debating whether you wanted to deal with him right now. As he started to close your door, you forced yourself out of bed careful not to disturb Isaac.

“Lydia was completely fine tonight,” you say from Stiles’ doorway startling him, “I figured you would want to know,” you turned away.

“Y/n,” he called after you, “I am sorry about earlier.”

“I know you are,” you said sincerely, “and it’s fine. We can talk tomorrow about what happened today and Isaac, and everything else.”  

You decided to grab a glass of water before heading back to bed when you noticed that there was someone pacing outside your front door. You recognized Scott and stood there and watched him for a moment. It was weird, in all the time that the two of you had been friends, you couldn’t remember ever getting into an argument with him. You would be lying if you said his words hadn’t hurt you, but you reminded yourself that they weren’t truly his words. So you turned the lock on the door, “You know, you could have knocked, rung the doorbell, called, text, or even yelled instead of standing out here like a dork. Maybe my brother is starting to wear off on you,” you joke half-heartedly.

“Y/n I-” Scott started.

“You were dealing with the full moon, and said some things that you didn’t mean. But you are a high school student with the weight of the world on his shoulders and you didn’t ask for this. Every time you turn around it seems like there is one more obstacle between you and any chance that you have of living a normal life. It’s okay Scott, even you are allowed to have a bad day every once in a while.”

“That’s not an excuse, and I really am sorry.”

“Well, I accept your apology and later I promise to catch you up to speed on everything that happened. But its late and I’m exhausted.”

“Are you sure we’re okay?” Scott asked, confused at how you could possibly not be mad at him. 

“We’re good, I promise. Now come inside and get some rest, you can have your choice of Stiles’ room or the couch,” you said, grabbing him some blankets.

As Scott laid down on your couch, he started to think. Maybe Isaac being a werewolf would be manageable, after all the two of you were close and Scott knew that would work in your favor later on. Derek had to stop though, with the hunters on high-alert this was the worst possible time to be converting innocent teens into werewolves. His thoughts then drifted to that creature he saw and how scarred Allison was. One thing was for sure, tomorrow was going to be a long day.

[wildriot]

Steter Week Day 5

It’s midday Saturday when Scott calls and begs Stiles for a favor.  Stiles, two days into his pre-heat, is fully prepared to deny him, but those puppy eyes are lethal, even through a phone, and he ends up agreeing to swap patrol shifts with Scott.  So he changes his clothes and heads out and is pleased when Peter joins him five minutes is.

It’s stupid, really, and irrational, but of all the alphas and betas in the pack, Peter is the one that gets his proverbial hackles up the least.  Maybe because, unlike the rest, Peter doesn’t use his dynamic as an excuse to act like an asshole – instead relying on his own personal charm to earn the title.

Stiles thinks at some point, a tally of all the shifts he’s spent with Peter running through his mind, that this might not be so bad.

Forty minutes later, they’re running for their lives.

“Fucking hunters,” Stiles growls, slogging his way through the mud.  “Always ruining everything.”

He’s out of breath, legs and lungs protesting the flat out sprint of the last who even knows how long.  The adrenaline’s starting to fade, the tepid beginning’s of exhausting slowly rearing it’s head and, to be perfectly honest, he really doesn’t think he can go much further.

Ahead of him, leading the way and dragging him along, Peter snorts.  “You have awfully low standards.”

Because focusing on Peter is better than thinking about what awaits them if they stop moving, Stiles takes offense.  “Excuse you,” he says, grip tightening on Peter’s hand as something – probably a tree root (they are in the Preserve, after all) – snags his ankle and nearly takes him down.  “I will have you know that my standards are reasonable.  Very reasonable.  So reasonable, in fact, that they spend their time reasoning with everyone else’s stupidly high expectations.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes!”

Peter just hums and Stiles silently flips him off.  In his head, obviously, he’s way too tired to do it for real.  

But Peter must sense his intentions anyway – all that werewolf-ism...ish? – and glances over his shoulder.  His eyes are glowing, too-bright in the darkness, and momentarily leaves Stiles blinking away white spots in his vision, and yet he still catches the tightening of Peter’s mouth, the way he seems to look past Stiles, deeper into the spaces they’ve left behind.

“Can you hear anything?” Stiles asks, trying to ignore the way his heart starts to bleed ice through his veins, sticky and cold.  He doesn’t think Peter can, over the rain and the noises they’re making, and Peter shakes his head.

“No,” he says.  

“But…?”

“But we have no idea what that thing was.  We can’t stop.”

Which is true.  Very true.  Hunters were one thing, but some sort of Lovecraftian hell-spawn was another thing entirely.  Just those few seconds in it’s presence, when it had entered the clearing where Stiles and Peter had been ambushed by a group of hunters, before it turned it’s attention to them and given them the chance to run, had been terrifying.  Stiles couldn’t even describe it.  The monsters they’d faced, human and not so much, had always scared him, but it had been the sort of fear that he could push aside and largely ignore until the problem was dealt with.

This, whatever it’d been?  It’d been fucking primal.

And he never wanted to feel that again.

So he shuts up, digs deep for the extra reserves he totally doesn’t have, and picks up the pace.  He doesn’t drop Peter’s hand.  He tries not to think about how, if Peter hadn’t been so quick to grab him, and Stiles had been left alone to race through the wet gloom of the Preserve, he’d most likely be dead right now.

They run for what could be another ten minutes, could be another hour. Stiles has no way of telling, phone dead and waterlogged in his pocket and he’s struggling.  The wet clothes are weighing him down, feet slipping across the forest floor more than before, and it’s only getting darker.

He’ll be damned if he says anything, though.  He cops enough shit from the pack as it is, being human and omega and thinking that he has what it takes to keep up with werewolves and alphas, because they’re jerks like that and he’s just stubborn enough to deny them the pleasure of being right even if it kills him.

Humans can do incredible things when their lives depend on it.  He saw that youtube video about that women that stopped a car from hitting her kid, yes he did, and he swears to god that if she could do it then so can he--

“Just a little further,” Peter says.

“Thank fucking Christ,” Stiles gasps.

Forget it.  He’s done.  Absolutely done, no energy left, no sir-ee.

Another handful of minutes and then they break through the treeline, staggering out into long grass and open skies.  The rain falls harder here, with no trees to act as a measly cover, which is just perfect, because it means Stiles can go longer than a couple of seconds without blinking the water out of his eyes and wishing his  hair was still short, if only so that it didn’t stick to his face like cold seaweed.  

Then Peter’s tugging him close, almost angling him so that Stiles is tucked into his side, and Stiles looks up, probably to ask him a flat why – they’re both soaked, the gesture is useless – when he sees what else is in the clearing, and instead ends up asking, “What?”

“We should be safe here,” Peter says, and starts forward, like he’s expecting Stiles to be okay camping out in some old house that looks, even in the dark, like it should’ve been torn down years ago for health violations.

Which, fine.  He wouldn’t be wrong – Stiles has always been freakishly adaptable to most things, and running for their lives during a freak storm is definitely a Thing – but, and Stiles is just putting this out there, really?

“With our luck?” He half snorts, half splutters.  “Doubt it.”

“So young,” Peter mutters, shaking his head.  “So cynical.”

“So old,” Stiles parrots, delighting in the way Peter tenses – so predictably – then relaxes.  “Such an asshole.”

Peter barks a laugh that’s drowned out by a sudden deluge.  

By unspoken agreement they both leg it across the remaining bit of what was likely once the front lawn and huddle underneath the overhang.

Stiles hugs his arms around himself while Peter fiddles with the lock. Kicks the toe of his shoe against the ground, bites his lip.

He must zone out, he thinks, because he jumps when the door swings open with a rusty shriek and Peter doesn’t look amused, only concerned, and doesn’t say anything smarmy before ushering Stiles inside.

“It’s safe,” Peter insists again, like he wants Stiles to believe him, and Stiles kind of wonders what his scent must be broadcasting, to get that tone in Peter’s voice.  “I promise.”

So Stiles looks over his shoulder at Peter strangely, a sort of ‘what gives?’ and sets off down the hallway.

The house is clearly old-fashioned.  All narrow and tight instead of the open and spacious.  It’s too dark to make out any detail, the little bit of diluted moonlight painted across the floor through the broken windows glinting dully off what Stiles assumes are bits of glass, maybe some metal fixings.

Peter is a steady presence at his back, a hand on his back.  The alpha is tense, strung tight like he’s on high alert and that’s making Stiles stress out even more, which is not fun and he kind of wants to tell Peter to chill out, only… This is Beacon Hills.  It’s the middle of the night.  Some creepy monster thingy is haunting the Preserve, and they’ve just spent the evening running for their lives.

In a town like this, you relax and you’re dead.  

In fact, a part of Stiles is actually, stupidly, rather pleased with the attention Peter’s giving him.  He feels like a priority, something important and it’s been so long since he felt like that…he just knows that’s the omega in him speaking, and firmly tells himself to knock it off.

“What is this place, anyway?” Stiles asks., figuring that, having nearly a decade and a half on him, Peter probably knows.  He doesn’t mean to be quiet, rarely ever is, yet something about this house reminds him of the Juniper Mausoleum he had to pass every time he went to visit his mom’s grave.

Peter is silent for long enough that Stiles labels it as hesitation, and opens his mouth to pester, when Peter finally talks.

“It’s my grandparent’s house.”

Stiles actually has to repeat the words back to himself before it sinks in.

“Wait what?”

Peter huffs a sigh.  “Of all the things – yes Stiles.  My grandparents lived here.  Happy?”

“No. I’m wet and I’m cold – what the hell happened to this place?”

“…”

“Peter?”

“They died.”

Well, Stiles considered, wincing.  Didn’t that just make him feel like a dick.

“Was it…?”  He isn’t sure what he want’s to ask.  Was it the fire? Hunters?  What?

And it’s like Peter reads his mind.  As the man maneuvers them up a flight of waterlogged stairs and into a room that Stiles is happy to see has all it’s window intact, Peter talks.

“It wasn’t the fire,” he begins.  “Though my father, Talia and I were never completely convinced that Hunter’s weren’t involved. They died when I was twelve.  Car accident, head on collision with a truck.”  He pauses, falling silent, and Stiles stands still as Peter drops his hand and moves away, heading towards what Stiles thinks might be an armchair.  “When they died… there are wards up around the clearing, still are.  When they died, this place, the house, the garden, everything, vanished.  Like it had never been here.  We spent years looking.  We could never find it.”

He watches Peter run his hands over the fabric and imagines the man must be trying to finds hints of familiar scents, doubts he’ll find anything after so long.

Stiles is lost for words.  They’re friends now – inasmuch as they wind up beside each other at pack meetings, and have a joint order at an Italian place that Stiles loves but can’t afford regularly and eats whenever he joins Peter for research at his apartment  – and Stiles has seen him with all manner of expressions and yet, this is maybe the most human Peter has ever been.

So he says, “I’m sorry,” and Peter waves his hand.

“It was a long time ago,” Peter says, voice light in a way that Stiles knows means the total opposite.  Peter pauses, then adds, “My mother was with them, in the car.”

“Jesus,” Stiles mutters before he can stop himself.  “You don’t have to, like, talk about it, or anything, not if you don’t want to.”

“Don’t you want to hear my story, Stiles?”

There’s an edge to his words, somethings Stiles can’t place, which makes him tip up his chin, makes him bristle like he’s been insulted. “Only if you want to tell it,” he says.

And maybe it was the right thing to say, because Peter seems to relax, shoulders no longer hunching forward, and he let’s out a quiet sound that might’ve been a laugh under different circumstances. “What’s a little more tragedy between us, right?”

Stiles snorts, and eases into the room, dropping his worry like yesterday’s laundry by the door.  There’s still a part of him that’s tense, keyed into every sound, every creak, but he’s not alone; he’s got Peter and, honestly?  That’s kind of reassuring.

“I wouldn’t call us tragic.”

“Then what would you call us?”

Stiles shrugs, and blinks and wonders at how everything is full of color, suddenly.  “Misplaced, I guess.”  

The colors makes his eyes hurt.  His head starts throbbing and he misses whatever Peter says when his blood starts rushing loudly through his ears and his fingertips go numb.

It reminds him of coming down from a sugar high as a child.

“Peter,” he says, or thinks he says, thinks he hears himself say, but he’s shaking so hard now he might not have said anything at all.  

And then Peter is right there, filling his vision.  He’s so close Stiles can feel his breath against his cheek but he’s blurry around the edges.  Sort of wobbly.

He swallows, focuses on not throwing up, whines, maybe, and lists forward.  “I don’t feel so good.”

“No,” Peter says.  “I imagine you don’t.  You’ve never Dropped before, have you.”

It’s not a question.  Stiles treats it as one, anyway.  “Almost once,” he says, and grabs onto Peter’s jacket because that is the only thing not spinning right now

He thinks of a funeral and the wreak of alcohol and the smell of a furious alpha.

Thinks of cold tiles and ambulance sirens and the fuzziness of medication. Thinks of being too young to understand what was happening.

“Oh god,” he groans, doesn’t fully register Peter grabbing him and holding him when he starts to sink down, legs folding beneath him. “Is that what this?  This can’t be happening.”

“It’s not ideal,” Peter agrees.  The world lurches, sways, making Stiles bury his face in Peter’s jacket, and the next time he resurfaces, it’s to find Peter has taken a seat in the armchair, and arranged Stiles so that he’s curled up his lap, feet free of his shoes, cold toes tucked between Peter’s thigh and the cushions, back pressed against the armrest.

“Just try and relax, sweetheart.”

And something just… slumps, inside him, goes warm and soft.

“That’s easy for you to say.”

Peter hums and Stiles kind of likes how it echoes through his own body, but then Peter is moving, jostling him around, and Stiles latches on, suddenly unbelievably terrified that he’s about to be displaced.

But Peter’s only awkwardly shrugging out of his jacket, which makes a certain amount of sense, being soaked through and all, and deftly flicking open the buttons of his shirt, baring his chest.

Stiles doesn’t even get the chance to appreciate the view before Peter is doing the same to him, shoving off his hoodie, sliding up his t-shirt.  The chill is immediate but Peter must’ve found a blanket somewhere and now covers him with it.

Stiles is certain he knows what Peter’s doing, positive he’s read about it, at least, and yet his brain isn’t making sense.  His throat is hot, bonding glands feeling swollen and puffy and his limbs basically useless.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” Peter says into his ear and Stiles huffs a whine and falls forward into the alpha’s warmth, into his strong grip.

He shoves his nose into alpha’s neck and inhales rapidly.  It’s maple syrup and warm blankets, sun-warmed soil with the bitter undertone of expensive coffee and something Stiles can’t name but craves anyway.

He probably isn’t under for longer than an hour.  Time passes and his mind… drifts, overcome by instinct and the overwhelming need to feel safe.

It feels like falling asleep, almost, stuck in that in-between where nothing feels real.

Wakefulness returns slowly, seeping in at the edges.  He is conscious of Peter’s hands running up his back, of his own hands curled into Peter’s chest.  The hint purr building in his chest tickles his throat and makes him blush, knowing how intimate that sort of reaction is, how intimate their position is; an unmated omega alone with an unmated alpha.  

His dad would lose his mind if he ever heard of this, which he was never going to if Stiles had anything to do with it.

Aside from their position though, Stiles feels… good.  Not better, still a little unsteady, but it isn’t as bad as before.

His fingers don’t feel like little ice-blocks, for one.  And he’s no longer shaking like some preteen that accidentally wondered into the horror showing in a cinema, which is wonderful, truly wonderful.  

Of course, there is the small matter – very small, certainly not a big deal at all – that he just Dropped for Peter.

Psycho Peter, whom the rest of the pack can’t stand and don’t trust.

Crazy Uncle Peter that pokes and needles until he’s got Derek looking ready to start throwing him through walls again, and drives everybody else insane.

Peter, who…

“Back with me, sweetheart?”

Peter who does things like that.  Calls him sweetheart and touches him like he’s something precious, something cared for, instead of a nuisance that’s too loud or too blunt or just too much.

Peter, who’s never mocked him for his dynamic, or put him down for instincts he can’t help.  Who always buys him his favorite coffee and orders in Italian food for him and never minds when Stiles just happens to fall asleep on his couch during a research binge because the house is empty and he’s so goddamn tired of being alone.

Peter, whom Stiles is just realizing he might be a little bit in love with, while sitting in his lap.

Talk about inopportune moments.

“… this is so embarrassing,” he mutters, feeling stiff and awkward.

Movement, then Peter’s fingers are tangling through his hair and tugging gently, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.

Peter is quiet for awhile.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he says at last, quietly, like if he says it any louder, the meaning won’t be the same, will transform from something that makes Stiles’s heart stutter and race into something shallow and flippant.

Stiles swallows.  “You – you.  I, uh.”  He was not equipped to handle this kind of conversation.  “I am not equipped to handle this kind of conversation.”

“And what conversation would that be?”

Multitudes of snark appeared on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back.  Breaths. Tries to get his thoughts in order.

“...you know very well what kind,” he settles on saying.

Peter doesn’t say anything in response to that.  He just sighs, turns his head so his nose is in Stiles’s hair, and somehow pulls Stiles closer.

It’s nice.  It’s so nice.  It’s the kind of nice that should be illegal and after the shitty night he’s had, Stiles is weak for it.

An illicit thrill runs through him when he thinks of what this would be like if Peter was his mate rather than just an alpha that his omega was sweet on… thinks of a soft bed and pillows that smell of both of them… thinks of purring, something he’s never done in front of anybody else before, ever.

“You are very young,” Peter says, sounding pained.

Stiles worries his bottom lip.  “I’m eighteen in two weeks,” he whispers, voice hitching.  He clears his throat, adds, “Besides. After everything that’s happened, am I really still that young? Are any of us?”

“The pack will never accept it.  Derek won’t accept it.”

“So? It’s none of their business.  I can do what I want.  Just because they don’t personally agree with what I do, doesn’t mean their opinion suddenly matters.”

“And Scott?”

“Scott,” Stiles starts, so sure of what he was going to say only to falter, because… because what if Scott didn’t understand?  Derek and the pack were one thing.  Stiles felt semi-responsible for them, mostly because he’d helped save all of their lives at some point, and that meant something, you know?  But Scott was his brother, they’d grown up together, and Scott still looked at Peter like he was never going to be anything but a spree-killing monster.

He made a helpless sound, frustrated and confused.

Peter soothed him, humming unintelligibly into his hair.  

“Let’s not talk about this now.  You’re e--”

“If you say I’m emotional, I swear to god I will hurt you.”

“-exhausted. Don’t lie to yourself, you’re running on fumes right now, and I am not a good enough man to let you regret anything else you might say tonight.”

“Fine.”

“Okay.”

“Just because you’re being reasonable.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.  Now, why don’t you try and get some sleep?  The wards won’t let anything through.”

“...why’d it let us through, then?”

“They were once keyed to Hales.  You were with me.”

“So… what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been with you?”

“Likely something suitably horrible.”

“Wow, great.”

****

They don’t ever really talk about it.  The next day, when the storm’s passed and everything is yellow-wet and sweet, Peter steers them through the Preserve, back to town.  They come out two streets over from Stiles’s house.

After… nothing really changes.  They spend time together, do things together.  Nobody notices.  Or, if they do, they don’t say anything.  The Sheriff isn’t home enough to notice how often his son is out, and when he is home, Stiles is careful to not make it so blatantly obvious that he’s spending at least three nights a week in a bed that isn’t his. It’s not like he’s trying to hide anything, exactly.  Just, he knows his dad, okay?  Knows exactly how much he would freak out if he knew what was going on and… well, sue him but he likes what he has now, and he doesn’t want to ruin it.

Outside of that, being with Peter and researching and hanging out with the pack, Stiles graduates, and seriously thinks about what he wants to do with the rest of his life, which leads to him hunting down a mage that’s willing to be his mentor in return for free labor and a research assistant and moving halfway across the country.

Peter is with him every step of the way and officially begins courting him on his twentieth birthday.

By his twenty second, they’re mated and back in Beacon Hills and Stiles is incandescently happy with the way his life is going and Peter is leading him through the Preserve after making him promise to keep his eyes closed.

Stiles does, reluctantly.

It’s spring, the day warm and the woods seemingly come to life with bird song and the quick scamper of small animals across the ground.

Peter’s hand is a familiar weight in his, fingers laced together in a way that should be awkward but isn’t and Stiles is busy cursing how no amount of training will ever make him the kind of graceful that means he isn’t always tripping over himself and--

Peter slows them to a stop, and Stiles has the sense that they’ve come to a clearing, sunlight warm on his face.

The air is filled with the subtle scent of flowers and fresh grass and there’s a sort of hush that’s fallen over the place, like even the birds have gone quiet in anticipation.

Peter steps up behind him, presses against his back, arms going around his waist.  Stiles relaxes against him, not bothering to hide his smile, or the way his scent goes mellow-sweet.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Peter tells him, and Stiles does.

His breath catches.  

“Oh my god,” he says, staring.  He can’t help it.  He’s thought of the house often, wondered what it looked like in the daylight.  In the months after, he’d even thought of asking Peter to take him out again, show him around, but Peter had never mentioned it, not once, and Stiles had figured that it was one of those things that had too many bad memories to outweigh the good but…

“Peter,” he says.  “You…”

“I bought it,” Peter responds.  “Fixed it up.”  Then, while Stiles is still staring and speechless because the house is beautiful and equal parts Peter’s taste in architecture and Stiles’s taste in color, Peter shifts so he can press a kiss to the bondmark on his neck and says, “Consider this my mating gift to you.”

And Stiles breathes in, trying, and probably failing to contain his excitement, and says, “It’s perfect.”

And you know what?  It kind of really is.

[sourwolfstories]

Hey! Do you have long fic recommendations? Can you involve some soulmate fics but AU are welcome too Long like 50k, 100k+ but really ill read anything

Soulmate fics (at least 50K)

When the Universe Comes Knocking (It’s Polite to Open the Door) by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

It was like a door he’d nailed shut in his brain suddenly exploded open, all of his past confusion and anger and hurt and adoration flooding out at once. Stiles? Was it actually Stiles?!

Stiles, the guy he’d had a crush on for fucking years growing up. The guy who’d been an absolute dick to him their whole last year of high school.

The guy who’d told him he loved him in a dirty men’s bathroom on prom night while drunk and upset because he thought Kira was Derek’s girlfriend.

That Stiles? But it couldn’t be!

Marks and Mics by DLanaDHZ

Hale siblings Derek and Laura have been hired to run security for Stiles Stilinski's music tour. Business as usual, except someone is trying really hard to prove they're incapable and hurt Stiles. Derek finds himself curious about Stiles' bitter attitude and a strange illness that plagues the singer. And on top of that, Derek's soulmate remains elusive.

Written Can’t Be Denied by lookslikenico, winglesswarrior

Since time immemorial the story of ‘soulmates’ has persisted. In short, the idea that somewhere out there is your perfect match, the one person who can complete you and with whom you can find total happiness.

The story goes that, the first time you meet your ‘soulmate’, the universe will give you a sign in what should be the most obvious way - somewhere in your immediate vicinity the word ‘soulmate’ will appear. If reports of ‘soulmates’ are to be believed, rather than being written of as hopeful delusions, then this ‘obvious’ signal is anything but, fleeting as it is. The word seemingly only appears for a matter of moments and only when two people first meet. There is no guarantee that they will be looking in the correct direction to see it, nor that they will have any idea who their supposed ‘soulmate’ actually is.

A fact that causes havoc the day that up and coming actor, Stiles Stilinski holds up a bottle emblazoned with the word 'soulmate' in the middle of a press conference where Derek Hale is working as a photographer, in the middle of the worst day of his life...

Connected by readridinghood

After the death of his wife, Stiles finds himself left alone with their three children, struggling to keep from being sucked into a void of grief and despair that her death left him with. Knowing his children are safe in the pack's arms under Derek's watchful eyes, he struggles to regain his footing. What do you do when the world keeps tumbling over you and what you've thought of as fact no longer holds true? As the world comes back into focus, so does the love for Derek he thought he'd long since conquered and now with his eyes open, what he thought was the end of him, is only a new beginning. A decade after he fell in love with Stiles, countless days of keeping himself restrained while building a friendship with him, Derek finds out with absolute certainty that Stiles is his mate. You only mate once in your life, so how is it that Stiles was mated to Sophia, his wife and mother of his three children, the woman he is grieving the loss of at the same moment that Derek makes his discovery.

Three Marks by sanam

"And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off— And suddenly it was done. Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt."

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

Other fics (at least 50K)

Rich Man, Poor Man by TyReed

During a first date gone horribly wrong, Stiles Stilinksi realizes that the snarky guy he's been asked out by is actually Derek Hale, an heir to Hale Industries, one of the most profitable companies in the entire world. Who is, for whatever reason, interested in the son of a teacher and a cop, a loser who spends all weekend watching movies in his pajamas, and who is also possibly one of the biggest dorks on the Internet.

At the same time, after screwing up their first date horribly, Derek Hale realizes that the funny guy he's asked out is Stiles Stilinksi, the warmest and kindest individual he's ever met in his life, with a family just a loving and caring. Who is, for whatever reason, interested in a guy who screws up everything he does, lacks any semblance of a backbone, and who is possibly one of the biggest history dorks in all of the United States.

These rich and poor men will come to experience a taste of each other's lives, and learn where the real blessings in the world can be found.

Feel it like a fever, burning through the night by LunaCanisLupus_22

“That was my favourite fern,” Deaton declares and Stiles glances at Scott for clarification that such a ridiculous statement just came out of his boss’ mouth.

“You could have just told me not to touch it,” Stiles points out sensibly, squirming inside with something he refuses to believe might be guilt.

Not about the dumb plant, but the instant devastation he’s currently overwhelmingly and inescapably capable of. He can destroy with one touch now.

This is going to complicate things so much.

Or the one where Stiles tries to do the noble self-sacrificing thing: gains a new power, a spectral skin colour and basically ruins his own life. 0/10 would not recommend.

It’s (Not) a Cult by lhr111

“Well Stiles, you told me a few weeks ago that you thought Derek was leading a cult.”

At that Derek whipped his head toward Stiles in shock. “You thought I was a cult leader?”

Stiles will not be shamed. “Well, either you or Peter. Peter made more sense, but since he deferred to you that one time I was a little unsure. I mean, what else could I think with all the weird shit going on. You, hanging out with random high school seniors, doing secret things, ordering them around like you are their parent, them actually doing what you tell them. It’s really weird, okay?”

“Are you familiar with Harry Potter?” Derek asks.

Talk about a non sequitur. “What? What does that have to do with anything? And, of course I know Harry Potter!”

“Well to quote Sirius Black, ‘Once again you’ve put your keen and penetrating mind to the task and as usual come to the wrong conclusion.’"

The Sheriff starts snickering, and Stiles is both insulted and also a little in love.

Call Me (Cliché) by SomewheresSword

When the sheriff's sister ends up in a wheelchair for the duration of summer, Stiles' dreams of three months full of pack bonding, late-night video games and bro-time with Scott come crashing down. He's temporarily relocated to Redford, a three hour drive away, and he can already tell he won't be getting many visitors.

Sure the pack will forget about him while he's gone, Stiles is determined to make the most of his summer of isolation, training his body and mind - and his magic - so he can come back with a bang, and maybe catch a certain Sourwolf's eye.

Then Derek shows up at his window one night with a flimsy excuse about needing research done. Suddenly, his summer away is looking a whole lot more interesting.

There’s No Escape for the Potato Man by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

“Who is this? Where’s Erica?”

“Wrong number, asshole!”

“Stop calling me an asshole,” the man on the other end snapped aggressively.

Stiles could understand. He’d be pretty aggressive too if he’d murdered someone and texted a wrong number to ask for help burying the body. This guy obviously failed How To Be a Serial Killer 101.

“What kind of idiot thinks I murdered someone?”

“The kind of idiot who got your text messages, you fucking dumbass!” he retorted hotly. “Maybe double check your contacts before sending a random stranger details on your nefarious plans to dispose of a freshly cut up body!”

“What?!” the guy on the other end demanded, crossed between horrendously confused and livid.

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

If you want more soulmate fics you can check that tag here

you can also find more long fics here and here

Happy Reading :)

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi! Sorry to ask, you already have a lot on your list, but I would really like some recommendations about some fics which have DerekxStiles as a couple and Stiles having a *great* relationships with Peter (platonically not romantically). I'm looking for a fic like one I forgot the name. It was Stiles as a little girl who help Peter overcome his fire wound's after her mother death, The Hale family was alive. Forgot the title... Thank you for any help.

Sure!

Featherless Wings Can Still Soar by emsmittens

(2/6 I 3,303 I Teen)

After years of being in the Hale Pack, Stiles accepted his fate as being one of the only humans. Honestly, Stiles was perfectly fine with being a normal human, thank you very much.

Everything changed on his eighteenth birthday. Suddenly, he was something called a veela and felt like a baby bird learning to how to soar.

Baseball Bats and Sour Wolves by Erin1324

(70/? I 77,757 I Teen)

Derek is cursed with some sort of spell, and for some reason only responds to Stiles as a result. He tries to attack everyone else, even his Alpha, he's also acting super overprotective of Stiles, hardly letting anyone get close to him.

Joining the Fang Gang by AClosedFicIsNeverRead

(19/? I 78,422 I Explicit)

“SSTTIIIILLEESS!” Lydia’s wail tore its way from her throat right in the middle of a pack meeting.

“Lydia? Lydia, look at me,” Derek urged, a slight tremor in his voice as he fought to be gentle with her despite his alarm. She blinked through tears and struggled to meet his gaze as he crouched in front of her. “What did you see?”

“Forest… It’s dark… His Dad is screaming for him…” Her lips trembled as she shook her head and gasped, “Oh, God… He’s dying, Derek. I can feel it… It hurts so much… Oh, poor Stiles…”

- OR -

The one where Stiles is turned into a vampire, hides it from the pack, and tries to manage his new 'condition' without them noticing.

AND

@avicris918 suggested this one!

Wild (Blue Neighborhood) by BeautyOnFyre

(1/1 I 11,029 I Teen I Sterek)

Peter's lethargic body was unresponsive as he sat in the wheelchair, endlessly staring out the window of his hospital room. His side twinged a bit from the rough scrubbing the nurse had given his mottled flesh earlier and he ached to move even a finger.

"Uncle Peter?" The small voice was behind him in the doorway. He remembered that voice. Contrary to the title bestowed from the small girl that rounded his chair into his line of sight, Stiles Stilinski was not related to Peter at all.

Or how Stiles and Peter became best friends for life and brought Stiles into the Pack.

[ofmagicandwolves]

I’M SHORE OF IT.

Short messy ficlet that my brain wouldn’t let go of today.

The summer before their second year of college, the pack returns to Beacon Hills. It’s a hot and sticky season, breeding reckless abandon and a feeling of carefreeness that your final youthful summer days should. Lydia offers the use of her family's lake house and no one argues. When Stiles arrives the door is still standing wide open and he can hear laughter coming from inside, It warms him in a way that few things have in recent years. 

Bags and luggage have been left in piles by the door and the only light is coming from down the hall in the kitchen and from the fading sunset shining through large living room windows. Erica tackles Stiles as soon as he steps into the room. And he laughs, the most genuine one that he can get to leave his heavy chest anyway.

“I missed you too, Catwoman.” he mumbles into her mane. 

The pack has been apart for a while so the scent marking happens in earnest. Stiles tries not to flinch away from any of the many groping hands that come his way but he’s not sure he succeeds. He thought it was a good idea, to get away from the chaos that surrounded their teenage years. To go to college, and learn, and experience, and grow. He thought that he would blossom under the freedom that Berkeley granted him but instead he just felt alone. Alone and afraid. He ached for his pack. The nightmares had only gotten worse since he moved into the dorms. Thankfully he had managed to get a single room. He’s not sure how he would have fared with a roommate that he woke multiple times a night with screams of terror. 

Hours later, the pack has piled together on the living room floor. It’s a mess of limbs and bedding and it's so warm that Stiles is struggling to breath a little bit. Maybe it’s not the warmth. Maybe it's the heavy way Scotts arm is pinning him across his chest. Or maybe it's how Issac is gripping his hand so tightly in his sleep that Stiles fingers are getting cold. Before he can work himself into a panic, there are hands grasping his ankles and sliding him out of the pack's grip and across the cool wooden floor. The action is so unexpected and silly that it surprises a laugh out of him as he looks up at his rescuer. Derek's eyes are shiny with his grin and he gently shakes Stiles’ foot where it's still in his hand before dropping it and helping him off the ground. The wolves grumble at being disturbed but rearrange themselves and fall back to sleep quickly.

“Come on.” he smiles, tipping his head towards the door.

And so Stiles goes. He’s never been good at refusing Derek anything, so he doesn't complain when the wolf stops to pick up his duffle bag from the floor on the way out, or when Derek grabs his hand to help him over a log and then doesn't let go. It’s a bittersweet thing, seeing Derek finally being comfortable with casual touch in a way that Stiles no longer can.

Down a short path from the lake house is a smaller cabin and when they step onto the porch, Chris Argent opens the door for them with a smile.

“He couldn’t sleep.” he says, pulling Stiles in for a hug.

“Said, he could feel your unease.”

Chris’ arms are firm around him and Stiles sags a bit into him, nodding against his shoulder. God, the man smelled good. Stiles knows that he should move, that this is probably a really inappropriately long hug, but he’s suddenly so tired and moving sounds like the worst thing in the world.

Chris makes an inquiring sound and then, there is another warm body pressed against his back. Derek's hands sliding down his arms where they wrap around his husband and covering Stiles hands with his own. They hold on to him, but it doesn't feel constrictive in the way he felt before. Now he feels like he's in a cocoon made of strong, protective, capable, warmth and, again unlike earlier that night, Stiles feels he can finally breathe.

Derek and Chris getting together had been a shock to pretty much everyone, but no one could deny how they cared for each other. They had both lost so much, it was good to see them happy. They deserved to finally be happy. Stiles would burn worlds to keep them this happy.

After they lost Allison, Stiles expected Chris to pack up and leave. Beacon Hills had never done anything for him except take and take and take. The same way it had taken everything from Derek. But then, the hunter had shown up at his house and instead of being met with the end of a rifle like he secretly hoped, Chris had held out his hand and asked Stiles if he wanted to train. Being human in the supernatural world was dangerous and as much as he hated that the kids were involved, The man thought it would be stupid not to teach them how to better protect themselves. Scott refused, saying he didn't need the help. The dazed look on his face and the way his eyes were always a little red around the irises now, said differently.

So Chris and Stiles trained alone at first, weeks went by and the others slowly started to join in. The three Hale betas dragged along Jackson, and Jackson brought Lydia, Lydia invited Kira, and Kira somehow roped in the Sheriff and Parish. Since almost everyone was already there, it was just easier to have pack nights after training. Reluctantly, Scott agrees.

When Derek started showing up to their sessions. Stiles was confused at first, Derek Hale willingly spending time with an Argent, odd. Then he noticed how well Derek knew his way around Chris’ space, never fumbling in the wrong cabinet for a glass. How he always handed Chris his plate first during meals. He notices the way the hunter quietly offers the wolf pieces of whatever snack he's having and the way Derek’s ears get pink when he accepts. Stiles has been head over tail for Derek for as long as he can remember but oddly he isn't jealous, he likes seeing Derek smile. Chris makes Derek smile and Stiles likes Chris. Maybe he likes Chris a little more than he should. But either way, he's happy for them. So it doesn’t surprise him, one pack night, when Chris gets up for a drink and presses a quick thoughtless kiss to Derek's lips.

Scott loses his shit. Screaming about how Allison would have been ashamed of her father for being with someone so much younger than him, someone who had murdered people. His eyes burned red as he battered Derek for “Making his way through the entire Argent family.”

“Would you have tried to get Allison next?”

Stiles watched in shock as Scott spat out hateful words, watched as Chris’ face shut down into a carefully composed mask, watched as the betas cowered under his aura. He watched. But then Scott took a step forward.

And Derek flinched.

That was it. Stiles doesn’t remember getting up. He doesn't remember his fist connecting with Scott’s already crooked jaw. He doesn't remember following Scott to the ground or pressing his hands against his long-time friends chest and feeling his magic pull.

He does remember the burning in his eyes as Scott’s Alpha spark snapped into him. He remembers the way Chris’ hands felt like lifelines as they picked him up off the ground. He remembers the way Derek crouched in front of him letting loose a truly terrifying snarl. He remembers the way Scott sighed in relief.

The Alpha spark was tainted. Stiles could feel the way it urged him on, whispered inside his head like the fox had. It was no wonder Scott had gone power crazed.

It had taken the rest of the summer for Scott to stop apologizing to everyone and longer for Stiles to get a handle on being a human Alpha. His spark worked constantly to purge the Alpha Spark of its darkness but it was a slow process. Using so much magic left him drained. With that, and so much of his energy being split between taking care of the pack from afar, his college work, and trying to ignore the whispers in his mind, the nightmares from the nogitsune soon returned with a vengeance.

Which left him where he was now, exhausted and sandwiched between his two favorite people.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles sighs into Chris’s shirt. Derek chest rumbles against him with a quiet growl. The spark shushes him gently and tangles their fingers together.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Alpha.” Chris speaks into his hair. “Let's get you to bed.”

They all three pile into the queen sized bed and wiggle and arrange until everyone is comfortable, like they've done this before. And maybe it should be weird, sharing a bed with a married couple that he’s pretty sure he's in love with, but it isn't. It’s the best night's sleep he’s gotten in over a year. Tucked under Derek's chin, Chris’s hand covering Stiles’ on the wolves chest.

The bed is empty but still warm when he wakes up the next morning. The door is cracked and Stiles has a direct line of sight to the kitchen where a yawning Derek, complete with messy bedhead and bare chest, stands in the early morning light sipping his coffee. Chris walks past in his sleep clothes whispering a quiet good morning and leaving a soft kiss on his shoulder. Derek gives a tiny smile as he repeats the sentiment back to his husband. And Stiles aches. He wants that. He wants morning kisses and packed lunches and board game nights that end in dish duty for a week. And he wants that with them.

The summer is full of pack bonding and junk food. Slowly, Stiles adjusts to being scented near constantly by every member of the pack. His dad even joins in occasionally, laughing as he messes up his son's hair. Stiles feels lighter each day.

Derek and Chris are always around and Stiles spends more nights than not in their bed. Derek makes smiley face pancakes for breakfast and comforts Stiles through his nightmares. Stiles learns that Derek wears glasses when he is reading and absentmindedly plays with Chris’ fingers when he’s watching tv. When he does the same with Stiles the first time, the spark freezes up but doesn't move away. The wolf doesn't even try to hide how pleased he is.

Chris teaches Stiles to fish. The only reason Stiles isn't complaining about how early he makes him get up is because the sun rise is beautiful on the water and he gets to see Chris’ toned forearms in action as he rows them out into the middle of the lake.

“Eww, it's slimy.” Stiles complains and pulls a face at the bait the hunter tries to hand him.

Chris rolls his eyes dramatically “Stiles. I've seen you put your entire hand inside a dead wendigo’s stomach with no hesitation, just to get Allie's favorite knife back. You can bait a hook.”

Stiles stops, then laughs openly, “You're not wrong.” He grins, “Issac calls it my “Pack Mom Override.” Any other time, I’m super squeamish and there would be no way I could stomach something gory or gross but as soon as it affects one of my pups, I'm all in.” Chris sighs dramatically and baits Stiles hook, but he doesn't think that he's mistaking the fond look in the older man's eyes.

The first time Chris kisses Stiles, it’s just as absentmindedly as he had kissed Derek just moments before. They’re finishing dinner, Chris giving his husband a soft peck as he takes his plate before grabbing Stiles empty one as well, The Alpha looks up to tell him that he’ll volunteer to do the dishes when Chris leans down and presses his lips lightly against his. The man is halfway through the kitchen before he realizes what he's done and turns around wide eyed to see Stiles’ shocked and Derek’s grinning faces. Stiles has never seen Christopher look more unsure of himself.

“Do it again.”  Stiles whispers. “If you meant it. Do it again.”

The plates shatter against the tile floors. Chris' hands are warm against his jaw as they cup his face and he kisses him soundly. Stiles can't stop the whine that crawls out of him when he pulls away or the deep moan when Derek’s hand tangles in his hair and his lips replace his husbands.

They’ll eventually clean up the broken glass but for right now, this is all he wants to do. When they pull away, Stiles’ eyes are deep red and he smiles. There are no whispers in his head. The Alpha Spark is mended.

[sassysweetstories]

isolated

Request: " Hey! I have a teen wolf request where reader is part of the pack and has been best friends with Scott and Stiles since childhood. But lately she's been isolating herself from the group. Even at pack meetings she doesn't talk much and is almost always on edge. She's struggling with suicidal thoughts, too, but doesn't tell anyone bc she doesn't wanna bother them & doesn't think anyone really cares that much. ++ ++Somehow the pack figures out what's going on and they all remind her how important she's to them and there's too much fluff. Also, if you could slip in some Isaac x reader into all this that would be amazing. Sorry this is so long. And if you're not comfortable writing this, it's fine. Love your writing! :)” 

Ship: Isaac x Fem!reader 

Warnings: fluff, minor kissing, suicidal thoughts, mentions of depression, angst, self-deprivation, etc. *WARNING READ AT YOUR OWN ACCORD* 

Tagged: @bailey-hoover @kiralivelove @thalia-prior-of-ravenclaw@anamcg317@bellasett @queentiffanyyy @archer-whovian-violinist @beingmadinwonderland @princessisabelle19@violence-and-velvet@lachicadelamanzana @teenwolfbitches2

Notes: none of these gifs are mine, credit to the owners. 

Third P.O.V

Strange how something as bright as the sun cannot alter the attitude of a person. The beaming warm energy seemed to be sucked up by the clouds, its darkness far more superior. How accurate.. (Y/n) pondered to herself as she lazily pulled her limp body out from under the sheets. There was little to nothing motivating her to go to school. She could lay there all day if she wanted to. With a faint sigh, she knew that the three people she cared about the most wouldn’t allow such a thing to happen. 

(Y/n) would never get use to the stir of the high school. The zoo like energy left her exhausted and she had only just entered. Scott and Stiles came bumbling in seconds later with the energy of two excited puppies and she couldn’t help but smile softly to herself. Scott handed her one of his many apples while Stiles’ Cheetos covered fingers dove back into his backpack to look for more snacks. Nothing says a healthy breakfast like Cheetos, apples and pop-tarts. (Y/n) had the tendency to ‘forget’ to eat breakfast and the boys would always bring enough food to share between the three of them. 

Once they dropped her off to class, the boys sprinted across the school to get to their own course lectures. Almost immediately, the loneliness settles in, drowning her out. Her first class comes around and she wants nothing more than to leave. Lydia doesn’t acknowledge her presence as (Y/n) takes the farthest seat in the back, too preoccupied by her lipstick and mirror to look at anyone else in the room. Not even her teacher sends a warm smile her way as she normally would. “Look at that. Nobody cares about you.” A dark, menacing voice chuckles inside her head. She does her best to ignore it but (Y/n) can feel it growing, bubbling up inside until she explodes. 

Go talk to Allison. Allison is nice! She’s always been good to you. She attempts to balance out the bad with a little good. But when Allison runs into Lydia and some other girls, she’s taken away, not daring to put up a fight when (Y/n) calls for her. “Useless. Nobody cares about you. See, she didn’t even bother to acknowledge you.” Her heart falls to the pit of her stomach as she pulls her books closer to her chest, feeling small and worthless as the dark thoughts continue to plague her mind. Curling her fingers around the binding, the young girl finds comfort in the feeling, calming her momentarily. 

Isaac notices the interaction, about to join her by her locker when Coach called him for rounds. Cursing under his breath, he ran over to the group. He had noticed how (Y/n) had been smiling less each day. How her laugh wouldn’t echo throughout the hallway or the lack of energy each room had without her presence in it. To him, she was the sole reason behind a lot of things. And without it, the world seem to turn grey and cold. Isaac hoped he could slip out early to catch her and make her smile, just once. That’s all it took to make him swoon for her. 

But (Y/n) went home and tossed her work to the side. When she wasn’t in an environment that demanded anything from her, she refused to put any effort in. School or not, her motivation to do much of anything declined rapidly. The weekend went by excruciatingly slow and as each day came, the pack began to notice the behavioral shift in her. Two meetings in a row, not a word left her plump lips. Not like it would matter anyway.. She thought lowly to herself. (Y/n) felt useless in the presence of others, especially around the people who she believed to be her friends. 

What was the point of doing this each day? (Y/n) pondered as she stared off out the window. I don’t bring anything to the pack meetings. They don’t seem to care about me or what I do? My parents are disappointed in my grades and lack of energy.. My friends don’t talk to me anymore. What’s the point? Why am I putting so much effort in for nothing in return. Nobody cares about me.. Whether I’m alive or dead.. She sighs to herself. A small tear slipping out from underneath her mask, falling gently on the paper. 

“Miss (Y/L/N)..” A gentle voice asks. 

She looked up to see Mrs. Abernathy, the English teacher waddling over to sit in the chair in front of (Y/n). Though Mrs. Abernathy had wrinkles around her eyes and cheeks she was an absolutely stunning woman. Her eyes crinkled at the corner when she smiled. This is a woman who’s had a long life and wears her age with pride. And spoke to the kids as she would her own grandchildren. 

“Miss (Y/L/N), class is finished. It has been for about five minutes, dear.” Her voice is soft and warm. 

Sniffling, she began to pack her bag. “I’m sorry, ma’am.. I didn’t realize.. I’ll get going-” 

But before she could stand up, Mrs. Abernathy took her by the wrists and looked deep into her eyes before saying, “Hun, if you ever need anything, please let me know, okay? Things can get really hard in life but there is always someone there willing to listen. I’ll see you for class tomorrow. Now go get some food while you can.” 

(Y/n) was taken back by such a intimate conversation. She had always been close with her English professors. They always seemed to understand what she was trying to depict in her writing and did exceptional in the course. But this was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. It was just the right thing she needed to hear. The faintest bit of reassurance managed to push her through the grueling day. Suddenly her phone buzzes and she can’t help but groan. 

From Batman: Pack meeting tonight- Scott’s place @ 7 p.m 

Later that evening, she dressed in the same sweatpants and sweatshirt she’d worn to bed for the past three nights, oddly still clean. (Y/n) didn’t plan on staying that long, not like they’d notice if she left early anyways. But when she opened the door, something felt different. Stiles rounded the corner, took her hand and dragged her into the living room. For the first time in weeks, everyone was looking directly at (Y/n) instead of through her. Isaac and Scott sat on either side, smiling reassuringly as Isaac laced his fingers through her hand. 

“W-What is happening..?” Unaccustomed to the beady eyes staring back at her. 

Scott glanced at everyone in the room and then back at (Y/n). 

“This is an intervention of some sort.”  

Confused, she tilted her head before looking back at Isaac and Stiles for clarity. 

“What the doofus is trying to say is-” Stiles begins but Isaac cuts him off. 

“That we know about how you feel..” He pauses momentarily, looking for the right words before continuing. “See, as werewolves, we can sense each others emotions and I’ve noticed how your aura emulates a sense of sadness, depression and anxiety.. I should have noticed it sooner.. But this meeting pretty much is-” 

Scott interrupts, “Basically, we want you to know how much we love, appreciate and care about you. Without you, we would be dead meat and you save our asses constantly. You’re the glue of the pack and we’ve all been shitty friends to you-” 

Stiles jumps in, “Actually I’ve been great, I can’t say the same for the rest of them but he has a point. (Y/n), you are my best friend and it breaks my heart to see you sad. You are so fun and gentle and kind and you always know how to make people feel better-” 

This time Lydia of all people jumps in, “That’s true. I’ve been a shitty friend and I should have spoken to you more. I have no excuse for lack of communication but what Stiles is saying is true. You are so bright and amazing and always seem to make me laugh, especially when I’m trying to be serious. That in of itself is a feat.” 

Isaac squeezes (Y/n)’s hand, smiling down at her. “You literally light up a room, ya know that? When you smile, you outshine every star in the sky. Your laugh is contagious and you are so empathetic. No matter what someone’s done, you always seem to see the best in people even when we can’t. We’d be completely lost without you, (Y/n).” 

Tears fall down her face before she can even process what’s happening. Scott places his hand her back while Isaac pulls her into a warm embrace. 

“T-Thank you..” Her voice cracks. 

“Tonight is about you!” Allison smiles, taking (Y/n)’s hands in hers. “Stiles ordered your favorite and we are watching all of the Star Wars movies. We also have popcorn, snacks and blankets. We love and appreciate you so much, (Y/n).” 

The young girl looked at all the people who stood around her. And for the first time in weeks, a genuine smile crept up onto her cheeks. That evening, with their bellies full, she put her head on Isaac’s shoulder while Stiles and Scott sat in front of her on the floor, throwing popcorn at each other. Never in her life did she feel so much love and happiness in one room. Curling up closer to Isaac, (Y/n) knew her smile wouldn’t leave her that night. And that’s just the way she liked it. 

(I hope you guys liked it! PLEASE COMMENT) 

[lettersofwrittencollective]

The Pull (78/?)

Summary: The Ragnulf’s are one of the oldest lines of werewolves known. A gift from ancient times was gifted to them. Though not all of the line will experience it. There are some who will experience a Pull. This Pull leads them to their true mate, a soulmate. The problem is, just because the wolf finds their true mate does not mean that they are the same for that person.

Author: @lettersofwrittencollective​

Pairing: Stiles x Hale!Cousin OC (Reader)

Word count: 2389

Warnings: angst, anger, drama 

<<Prev || The Pull Masterlist || Next>>

Surprisingly, Liam agreed to go to the “party.” You’d picked him up and now you’re driving through the outskirts of the city to make it to Lydia's lake house. Music softly flowing through the speakers. 

“So, um… where are we going?” Liam asks as the streetlights become more sparse being replaced by more and more trees.

“Lydia’s lake house,” you answer him almost absentmindedly, more focused on the feel of the moonlight on your skin than on the pup beside you, but he doesn’t seem to be listening. 

He’s breathing hard and you realize that it would seem that the moon is pulling at him, making things more intense. A moment later snaps at you, hands covering his ears as he demands you to turn down the music. Frowning at him, you tell him if you turn it down anymore, you’ll be turning off the music. 

When he doesn’t say anything you lean over and turn off the music. A few moments later, after his phone buzzes,  Liam asks you, “Who’d you say was coming to this party?”

Caught off guard you tell him everyone you know is coming. 

A silence falls in the car and you’re driving for about five minutes, the tug of the moon becoming something almost itchy against your skin before you hear him taking deep breaths like he’s trying to control something. At the same time, his anger fills the car and the scent is almost intoxicating. With your own control so dangerously fragile, it threatens to pull you in. The problem with his anger is that there’s no control in it. It’s not righteous. It’s not cruel. It… It seems to have no direction and if he loses it, you know that it won’t end well for anyone. 

But it’s tempting. Oh so tempting and a part of you wants to fall into it. Wants to let your wolf run feral, if only for tonight. The problem is you suspect you’ll lose yourself to her if you allow her free reign and if you allow her free reign with how frustrated you are… that would end in carnage and bloodshed. 

Your phone goes off, distracting you from your thoughts and you look down to see Stiles has texted you. 

Stiles: where you at?

Trying not to chuckle you send him a quick response. 

Tasha: Maybe 10 minutes out? 

His phone dings and Tashas name pops up. He looks down to see the time and he’s tempted to tell her what he learned but what if Liam sees? 

Going back and forth with himself it takes a second but eventually, he sends her a simple text… telling her to be safe. 

The sound of Scott’s bike pulls his attention to the driveway and he watches for a moment before Scott’s pulling into the driveway. 

“Tasha’s on her way with the little runt,” he tells his best friend as he takes off his helmet, “but I asked around about Liam. I know why he got kicked out of his last school.” 

Scott gives him a look of surprise that he can’t really decipher before he sighs, “This is going to be bad isn’t it?” 

“He kind of got into it with one of his teachers,” Stiles begins as he pulls out his  phone. “The kids got some serious anger issues.”

“How serious?”Scott questions slowly.

Finding the picture he was looking for, he hands the phone to Scott, “Well, this his teacher’s car… after he took a crowbar to it.”

The picture had shocked him when he’d seen it. The runt had literally destroyed the car. The side mirror had been knocked down and the windows had holes in them while the body had been fully dented. 

The idea of Tasha anywhere near him was both terrifying and uncomfortable

***

Liams struggling against the strength of his emotions. You can feel them emanating off of him and each is more potent than the last.  You glance over and can see him clenching and unclenching his hand as you hear his heartbeat pick up. Almost on instinct, you let out a warning growl. 

The sound must shock him because he’s turning to you with wide eyes and you have to find a way to play it off. 

It takes a second but you offer him a smirk before reaching out and squeezing his arm, “Relax pup… you’ve got this.” 

Liam seems to accept your words and his breathing evens out. The two of you seem to fall into a companionable silence, which surprises you, before he speaks up again, “You know, you keep calling me pup…”

You’re surprised by his words, you hadn’t realized it was a thing, and you can feel the blood rush to your skin as you realize that you’d done it. Clearing your throat you shake your head, and offer the explanation, “It’s a family thing.”

Liam doesn’t look very terribly convinced but he seems to think better than to question you. Before he can think about arguing with you about it, you’ve pulled into the driveway at the boathouse. 

Putting the car in park, the two of you are making your way to the front door when he asks where everyone is. You tell him that they’re on their way but that you’d told Lydia you would help her with some last-minute preparations and so the two of you were early. 

You open the front door with the spare that Lydia had given you after class, and let Liam walk in before you. He steps in and doesn’t seem to notice the tenseness in the room before he stops. You pull the door closed behind you and wait for the inevitable wave of anger as he realizes just who is here. 

He takes a look at Lydia, Malia, Kira, Stiles, and Scott. The sight of the last two making him stiffen and both fear and anger to rush off him before he turns to you, his voice tight and pissed, “What the hell is this?” 

“Think of it like an intervention,” Stiles tells him, his voice dripping with sarcasm and pulling Liam’s attention back to him before Scott cuts in, “And we’re the only ones that can help.”

Not true she scoffs as you try not to make any reaction as you internally scold her. Scott’s the best thing the kid can get. He’s a human that’s been turned and is now an Alpha. A True Alpha at that. He’ll be able to understand Liam’s emotions much better than either you, Ro, or Aaric would. Theo might be a good idea but he’s back home with the boys and there’s no point in pointing out any of this when Liam’s already on edge. 

The boy’s vibrating with anger and you’re sure that he’s going to lose it but a moment later you can feel two pushes against you. Turning, you look over and see that Scott’s gone Alpha and there’s a primal part of him that he probably doesn’t even realize that is trying to push the boy to listen. 

The second push feels different. If you didn’t know better you’d think it was an Alpha’s push but there was no way it could be, Scott was the only Alpha in the room after all. You half listen to Scott speak as you try to figure out where the second push is coming from but you quickly realize that it’s coming from next to Scott… it’s coming from Stiles.

It takes you by surprise but there isn’t a whole lot you can do about it right now and, besides, Scott’s telling Liam about what’s going on and he’s using his own experiences.

As Scott explains to Liam what had happened to him and how Peter had bit him a few years ago and how it’s changed his life you watch Liam. He doesn’t seem to believe a word of it but keeps his mouth shut. You’re pretty sure that he’s making mental notes to try and condemn the group of you to Eichen later but you wait. 

Scott goes on to tell him how they then learned that Lydia was a Banshee, and how you joined them as another wolf at the same time Kira came around and how the group had learned about her being a Kitsune and then Malia joining them the last few months. He didn’t give any real backstory, just that order of who joined and when. 

When Scott’s done, there’s a beat of silence before Liam points to Scott. “Bitten Werewolf?” he reiterates and Scott nods his head. 

“Werecoyote,” he points at Malia who nods her head. Liam then points to Lydia and Kira respectively, “Banshee and fox?”

“Kitsune,” Kira clarifies, almost proudly, before she seems to think better of it, “But fox works too.”

His finger flicks over to Stiles and he practically growls out, “And what are you?” 

Stiles makes a noise like he’s clearing his throat and looks around, locking eyes with you. You offer him a small nod of encouragement before he answers Liam, “Well for a little while  I was possessed by an evil spirit… very evil” 

You can feel the confusion running off Liam ask he asks, “What are you now?” 

“Mi-” you begin before clearing your throat, “much better,” you answer. 

There are five sets of eyes on you and you try your damndest to hold back your blush but you have no idea if it works. 

“Is that why you called me pup?” Liam asks you and you tilt your head at him in confusion for a moment. 

“You’re also a werewolf?” he clarifies and you nod your head. 

“Born,” you confirm for him. It likely means nothing to him but to you, it’s a distinction that should be made.  Something that he’ll eventually understand. 

A grunt and the rattle of chains falling grabs Liam’s attention and he turns to see a set of handcuffs attached to a chain falling to the floor from the duffel bag that was on the table, “Are those for me?”

“No, there for me,” Malia tells him as she picks up the chains and flashes her blue eyes at him. 

Liam steps back, almost falling on his butt and you step forward to grab a hold of his arm as he stutters out, “How… how.. How did you do that?”

“You’ll learn,” Scott tells him, “But first you have to make it through the full moon.”

“The moons already out,” Liam clips out and you can feel his heartbeat racing again. 

“And you can feel it, can’t you?” you ask him. 

He glares at you for a moment and the anger rolling off him seems like it would be fun.  You move to take a step towards him and the anger. A thought crossing your mind that at least Liam would be a good fight.

Liam seems to have a different idea, he snaps at the group of you, “ I feel like I'm surrounded by a bunch of psychotic nutjobs. You guys are out of your freaking minds. I don't know how you did that eye thing and I don't care. I'm walking out the door right now! If any of you try to stop me, I swear to God, I'm gonna- “  a grunt of pain interrupts him as he places his hands on either side of his head, covering his ears. 

Recognizing the sight from earlier and knowing that his hearings probably extremely enhanced currently, you focus your hearing and can hear the crunching gravel as a multitude of cars approach the house. 

Scott’s trying to figure out what’s going on with Liam when you ask the pup, “Who did you tell?”

“My friend, Mason,” he answers you as headlights break through the trees and you turn to look at Lydia who looks annoyed. The pups defending himself, reminding you that you had told him it was a party as kids climb off their cars.

“Who did Mason invite?” you hear Stiles ask. 

“Everyone,” Lydia answers as Kira steps up next to her. 

At some point, Liam had managed to end up on the floor and you can hear his pained roar at the same time as nails digging into the floor. 

“The floors! Get him off the floors!” Lydia practically screams as she moves to help Scott. She’s stopped with Liam roars at her,  flashing his gold eyes at her. Pulling her back and behind you, you growl at Liam as he struggles against Scott. 

Helping the Alpha, the two of you work in tandem and manage to get Liam down to the boathouse.  It’s currently you and Scott fighting a very enraged pup experiencing his first full moon. 

The anger is washing off the boy and you, once again, find it intoxicating. He snaps at you, canines elongated and you have to move out of the way so that he doesn’t actually manage to bite you. 

“Listen to me pup!” you demand and when it doesn’t take you growl at him, the second time in less than an hour but this one is a demand, not a warning. 

The growl catches his attention and his eyes flick over to you. Seeing you have his attention, you call out his name while putting your hands up. His eyes flick between you and Scott but you call his attention back to you. 

“Ignore him and look at me pup,” you call out firmly but manage to keep your voice soft. It takes him a moment but eventually, the boy’s eyes seem to be focusing on you. Just as you seem to think he’s going to calm down enough for you to get through to him, the sound of something clattering caught everyone's attention and you turned towards the sound. 

A moment later there was a thud and you turned to see Liam on the floor, Kira with a shovel in her hand and shock written across her face. You thought she had stayed behind with Lydia and the others but apparently not. 

“Oh God,” Kira whispered in horror as she looked down at the pup’s prone body, “I didn’t kill him, did I?” 

Scott was the one to check Liam’s pulse and shook his head, before letting out a relieved sigh and informing the two of you, “No, he’s just out cold.”

-

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- 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!!  Let me know what you thought! Comments, reblogs, asks… all of these things let me know how you’re feeling about the story and give me life!   

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Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is the property of lettersofwrittencollective . Associated characters belong to MTV and are being borrowed for this work, all OC’s are the property of lettersofwrittencollective. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

Posted 24 February 2020

[ageofevermore]

an update on how my oc's are getting along during this pandemic :)

Harry and Goldie: this man is absolutely loving the time he gets to spend with you and your little love! sure, now he's going out and about between the states and your flat back in london, but he absolutely adored the few uninterrupted months he got to spend with the both of you. goldie is just over two and a half years old when quarantine begins, so you and harry decide it's a good time to start potty training. she hates it at first, mostly because the sound of the toilet flushing is intimidating, but soon she learns that harry will sing over the loud sound. you almost rolled your eyes allowed the first time you watched your husband sing beside the toilet, clapping his hands and blowing into a blue harmonica between words.

the three of you also become a family of four, well five if were counting the goldfish named finn. you get pregnant just after march, and your finding out in a few days the gender...it's a little girl. even before you know though, harry has deemed your little one bowie. the baby inside of you loves grilled cheese and tomatoes, which you were never fond of, and is guaranteed to start moving around when music is played. the first time harry realized this, his head was in your lap and david bowie was playing on vinyl.

"did ya feel that, lovie?" he looked up with wide eyes and a glowing grin, "bunny likes himself some bowie."

"who said it's a boy harry?" you bit back, a smile on your lips.

"we already got a girl, it's only fair, love." he mumbled back before pressing his lips to the skin of your bare belly, not just popping but definitely not as tight as it was, "hi, bowie. ya gonna be my music partner? i think yeh big sister might have a fit."

but quarantine also came with struggles. goldie didn't understand why she couldn't bounce back and forth between your flat and anne's house, and she definitely didn't understand why you were no longer going to the pack every afternoon with a packed lunch and a plan to stop at the ice cream shop and collect a blue popsicle. she had thrown a fit at harry's feet for six days before moving along to the next obsession -- which happened to be styling harry's growing hair into a messy ponytail, or unicorn horn as she deemed through giggles.

Ellie McCall: ellie and liam are doing great! they've taken this time to just sit back and actually enjoy each others company. ellie's fresh out of college and beside stiles at the FBI, working as a medically trained field agent. her brothers best friend was less then happy when he realized that the younger girl was moving up in the program quicker then he could. ellie and liam are ready to start a family, though they don't look to be having any luck. when they do get pregnant though, ellie immediately worries that she's going to have to push a werewolf sized baby out of her. it takes seven calls to deaton and three voice mails to derek to assure her that the baby will be normal sized, and lacking in supernatural abilities until he's at least a toddler. oh yeah, it's a baby boy that is immediately named called brett dunbar.

though ellie and liam are enjoying the time home, it does bring ellie into a darker headspace. she dwells over allison and what her best friend might have been doing, and she can't help but think about boyd and erica. even matt crosses her mind a few times before she wiggles into bed besides liam and falls asleep with his heartbeat in her ear. liam isn't oblivious to her suffering, but it's apparent he doesn't know how to help. he sits were her sometimes when she's just staring out of the living room window, and makes her a cup of tea, because recently she's grown to hate the taste of coffee. he just lets her know that he's with her, and even though they're along in DC, she isn't actually alone.

Dylan O'Brien, Chloe O'Brien, and Maisie O'Brien: the trio is so good! dylan is so glad to finally be home with his girls for longer then a couple of broken up weeks. he can't remember the last time he was truly free to just be a dad and a husband. yes, chloe and dylan got married. it was a few weeks before the new year that they celebrated two months married. dylan's glad they waited so long, because the image of his daughter walking down the isle never fails to bring tears to his eyes. mae's just over four and a half, so she was in pre-school when everything started shutting down. she cried for weeks about missing her friends, clinging to dylan's torso for hours until she could be persuaded into walking on her own.

mae was a busybody, which meant keeping her home all day every day was hard. dylan was a personal jungle gym at this point, having bruises and cuts littering his arms and legs from how frequently he was used as a latter or slide. he wouldn't have it any other way though, loving that himself alone could entertain maisie for hours. what was hard about being home was finding alone time. the little one chloe and dylan shared loved to sneak into bed with them at two am, meaning that any passionate love making was rushed and done half dressed. it really wasn't passionate, but it quenched the thirst that would build after days of thick sexual tension.

every morning dylan would wake up after chloe and mae, coming down to plates of fresh fruit and pancakes. chloe didn't mind the big breakfast, giving her something to do other then stare at the wall or sing along to frozen for the umpteenth time that week. she had tried to get mae into something else after watching it seven times in a day, but the littler girl had crawled into her fathers laps with pleading eyes and a frown, sweetly asking if he could turn on anna and elsa when you were in the bathroom. it was no surprise that he cracked under the pressure, wanting nothing more then to be mae's best friend even when he knew a movie couldn't hurt her.

chloe's favorite thing about it all though had to be waking up in the middle of the night to cold sheets. she would leave the bedroom confused, having remembered falling alseep in dylan's arms, but in no time she would find her husband and daughter either in the kitchen eating ice cream, or cuddled up together in a toddler sized bed happily asleep. she would selfishly take a few more months of this isolation if it meant making more magical memories.

Emma James and Dylan Sprayberry: emma and dylan are great! they've started wedding planning, and have been using this time to finally finish moving into their house! emma was sad to let go of her first home with everly, but she comes to love their newly purchased home in SoCal even more. emma and ellery have been besties this entire time! it's not often that the two of them are apart, finding it a comfort to have some sort of daily routine that helps them stay mentally okay. emma is more then glad to have dylan by her side at home, but she needs more then her fiancé to keep a level head.

emma doesn't have any upcoming projects, instead taking the time to work on herself and her mom life. everly james is everything to her! the little beauty who looks just like her mother is just under two years old when this pandemic really cracks down on california, and it takes a toll on emma when they're forced to spend her second birthday with just dylan's sister and mother.

emma tries her hardest to keep in contact with holland and crystal, often having facetime calls scheduled. she misses seeing her friends faces every day, but knows that their reunion will be so much sweater once everything is safe and reopened.

Scotland Reilly and Dylan O'Brien: i haven't introduced scotland to this blog yet, but she's my little bean, and the irl oc for leila martin! anyways, scotland and dylan have been so good and really enjoyed being home together for longer then a few weeks or broken apart months! they're coming up on their seventh dating anniversary, and beginning to talk about what the next step might look like. they're been living together since season two of teen wolf, which was a year before they started dating, but neither one is completely sold on whether they want to go through with marriage. they have no doubt that the rest of their lives will be spent happily together and as one, but the idea of getting married never really stuck out to them!

scotland has an eating disorder that goes hand in hand with OCD that manifested after a childhood of travel between modeling jobs and bicoastal co-parenting. she's been strictly a vegan for almost nine years as a way to ensure that she's always healthy and so she doesn't feel to guilt about the foods she's eating, but recently she's started to introduce chicken (which dylan is absolutely thrilled about) fish, and a few dairy products. being home has given her the chance to actually feel comfortable with how far she's willing to push past her comfort zones and find new things out about herself. she's also overly plagued by baby fever!

she had her head on dylan's chest one afternoon, scrolling through moodboard on her pintrest account when the cutest pastel themed nursery caught her attention. they're in no way ready for a baby, but scotland can just imagine a tiny baby the two of them sharing her eyes and strawberry hair but every other quality being strictly dylan's. they both think a baby is the perfect next step, but in a few years time when hopefully the pandemic has calmed down and it's not so high risk.

the conversation goes like that:

"baby." scotland coos, looking up at dylan whose entire focus is on the old baseball game. he hummed in her general direction, his fingers brushing through her hair absentmindedly. "can we have a baby?"

he has to pause the game after that question, his whiskey eyes wide and caught off guard. scotland giggles at his reaction, pressing a kiss to the dip between his collarbone, "not right now, silly! but one day, can we?"

they'd never really talked about kids. dylan knew she wanted a few, having grown up with a large family, but they were both at the high of their career and never had time to imagine little hands and feet.

"one day." he promises gently, "i'd like that."