#void stiles fic

[theemporium]

[REQUESTS OPEN]

[3.1k] or, void understands you. he can help you. he isn’t scared of you or what you are. you just have to let him set you free. (smut)

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“Look at you,” he cooed softly, his hands running over your exposed skin with a feather-like touch. “So pretty when you listen, little dove.”

“Please,” you whimpered out, your voice was breathy and soft and he loved it. He loved the way your glossy eyes stared up at him, the way your cheeks were flushed and your lips raw and the way your whole body responded to him.

“Good girl using her manners now, hm?” he murmured with an amused huff as his fingers trailed over the plain of your stomach, smirking a little when your body twitched under his touch. “What would they say if they saw you right now?”

“I—” you gasped when you felt his hand grip your thigh, keeping your legs open and spread just for him.

“They’re scared of you,” he told her as his eyes caught hers. His stare was intense and deep and made her squirm beneath him. “They don’t understand you and they never will, little dove. They don’t understand people like you and me.”

And despite your better judgement, the snide remark slipped past your lips. “And you do?”

There was a pause. The hands exploring your body stopped, the soft creaking of the pipes were the only sound that could be heard as the seconds dragged on and you couldn’t bring yourself to lift your head up.

But Void had no problem solving that for you.

You felt his fingers roughly grab your chin, forcefully tilting your head back until his dark eyes met yours.

“I know you better than you know yourself, baby,” he gritted through clenched teeth as his leg slid between your own. “I know what makes you happy…what makes you sad,” he dipped down so his lips were brushing your own. “I know what makes you scream.”

Your eyes fluttered closed but quickly snapped back open when his grip tightened.

“They will never understand you like I do,” he whispered softly, almost like he cared. Almost like a lover’s words. “They will never give you what you need like I would.”

And a part of you knew what he said was true. They would never understand what you were or what you could do. It scared them. It scared them so much they locked you up in Eichen House without a second thought. They locked you away when they could no longer control you. 

“Pretty little dove trapped in a pretty little cage,” Void whispered as his hand slipped between your thighs, your legs practically shaking in anticipation. “I can set you free.”

“Please,” you breathed out, desperate and needy and so beyond caring what it meant now. It had been weeks now. Weeks of the lingering gazes and teasing touches, whispered words and late night talks. You found yourself intrigued by the hyperactive brunette, wanting—no, needing to know more about him.

Then something changed.

Something snapped in him.

Something darker.

But you, being the foolish and hopeful fool you were, you still blindly followed him because he wasn’t scared. He didn’t treat you like a freak of nature or a monster. He looked at you like you meant something, that you were worth something.

You followed him down to the basement because you craved it more than anything else. You craved him more than anything else.

It was a blur of emotions and pleasure. The way his hands gripped your hips, the way he led you back towards the couch and trapped you beneath him. The way his lips were on yours, his kisses as addictive as his words and the little sounds he made making you want to whatever he asked. Just as long as he kept touching you. 

He was pulling the scratchy material of your shirt off with your sweatpants following quickly after until you were tucked beneath him, dressed in only a pair of flimsy panties and your body burning up as you desperately chased your high over and over again.

But he would never let you reach it.

“You want that, baby?” Void hummed, his thumb brushing along the soaked material, drawing out a small whine from you when he circled your clit. “I can you make you feel so good.”

You nodded, hands gripping his wrist as you helplessly tried to grind against his palm. But Void was two steps ahead, pulling away from you completely as he tsked mockingly.  You let out a pathetic whine, every instinct in your body wanting to reach out for him, for the warmth of his body.

“Use your words, little dove.”

You stared up at him as he sat there, kneeled on the couch above you. Your eyes glanced down at his hands, following up his arms to the shirt that practically stuck to his body. Your gaze dropped to the front of his sweatpants, your throat going dry when you saw how hard he was, when you saw how badly he wanted you to.

“I want you to set me free,” you spoke so softly, looking like the semblance of innocence as your shaking hands rested on your stomach. Your pinkie darted down to trace the hem of your panties and he was seconds away from ripping the material off with his teeth.

“Yeah?”

You nodded, gulping a little. It made him hard to know he still scared you a little.

“You understand me.”

“That’s right, baby,” he praised as he leaned down to press a long, hard kiss against your lips. You moaned into his mouth, hands instantly reaching to grip his shirt as you tried to pull him closer. “I fucking understand you. I am the only one who can help you.”

“You’re the only one who can help me,” you repeated breathlessly.

The movements were quick and fast, almost invisible to the human eye but then again, Void wasn’t human. He sat back against the couch, with you now prettily straddling his lap. He could feel the goosebumps on your skin as he ran his hands up and down your arms. He could feel the way your body leaned into his. 

“If I’m gonna set you free, baby, I need you to listen to me, okay?” Void spoke, his voice low and gravelly and it sent shivers down your spine.

You nodded.

“Words, little dove.”

“Yes.”

His lips twitched. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’ll obey you,” you said, your voice shaking a little.

“Atta girl,” Void murmured happily as his hands rested on your cheek, his thumb brushing against your swollen lips. He watched with eager eyes as you wrapped your lips around his thumb, sucking the digit as happily as you’d suck his cock if he let you.

You whined as he pulled his hand away, slumping back in his seat as he took in the sight in front of him. Your hands tucked behind your back, chest rising and falling with little pants and your eyes glued to him, waiting for him to touch you again. Waiting for him to allow you to touch him.

“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you, little dove?” The mocking tone in his voice wasn’t lost on you, wanting to press your thighs together but your position prevented you from doing so. “So wet and needy for me. Bet you are just desperate to come, hm?”

You gulped, nodding your head frantically. “Wanna come so bad.”

“Yeah? My little dove wants to come?” his voice sounded so soothing, so fucking patronising but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel an ounce of shame. “Go ahead then, baby.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as he relaxed in his seat, head laying against the back of the couch. “What?”

“Make yourself come,” he repeated again, his lips twitching into something quite vindictive and yet you couldn’t help but think how pretty he looked. “Use me, baby. Use me to set yourself free.”

“I-I don’t get what you—” you babbled, your cheeks burning under his watchful gaze as he cooed mockingly.

“Don’t get shy on me now, little dove, thought you were my good girl,” Void spoke as he ran his hands up and down your bare thighs. “What was that silly little fantasy you had? You…my thighs…yeah, you liked that one, didn’t you?”

Your breath hitched as he let out a small laugh. You don’t know how he knew, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to know how. The nights were you were unable to sleep, the covers were stuffy and your body felt warm and the only thing that made it bearable was slipping your hand beneath the hem of your panties and letting the pillow muffle your moans so you don’t get caught.

For him to know, to hear the little whispers and fantasies you thought you shared in the privacy of the dark rooms at night…

It shouldn’t have excited you as much as it did to know there was a possibility he was watching you, listening to you…that he was right there with you.

“Go on,” Void’s lips twitched upwards as he slowly guided you to straddle one of his thighs. “Put on a show for me.”

Deep down a part of you knew this was a bad idea. That you shouldn’t be here with him, alone and in this position. That following him down was your first mistake and everything else that followed only added to the mess. Deep down you knew that he was bad.

But you just truly couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Your hands moved to grip his shoulders, lip nervously tucked between your teeth as you began to rock your hips back and forth. Slow, deliberate movies as your clit brushed against the material of his sweatpants, and it felt good but it was not enough. 

“C’mon, baby, use me,” Void urged, his fingers ghosting along your skin. “Thought you wanted to come, hm?”

“I do,” you whispered.

“Then stop acting like a fucking brat and do as you’re told,” he growled as his fingers twisted around the material of your panties and ripped them with ease, letting the ruined material drop to the floor.

Your hips stuttered against his thigh, your hands gripping his shirt as you tried to get the words out of your mouth but no sound came out. You stared down at him, helpless and dazed and god, you didn’t think you had ever seen something so fucking hot.

“Can’t do anything yourself, can you?” Void commented, shaking his head slowly and something in your stomach twisted. “Need my help for everything, don’t you, little dove? Can’t even come yourself.”

“I…I can,” you argued but it fell limp when he gripped your hips, guiding them along his thigh.

“Can you?” he mocked, head tilted to the side as your hips began to move more frantically. Moans began to spill from your lips, desperate and shameless and sounding so pretty so his ears. “You want me to stop?”

“No!” you cried out, shaking your head as he bounced his leg beneath you.

“You look so pretty like this,” Void praised as you clutched onto him like a lifeline. “Nobody can make you feel like this. Nobody can make you feel like this but me.”

“Just you,” you whined out, tears welling in your eyes and your thighs burning but you couldn’t stop, not even if you wanted to.

“Just me, baby,” he growled, lifting his hand to roughly grip his cheeks so he could watch the dazed look on your face as you reached your high. “You only need me.”

“I only need you,” you whimpered, lips parting when you felt the muscles in your body tensing up. “Please.”

“Say it.”

“Please,” you moaned out, eyes fluttering closed. “Please, let me come. I-I need to, just please, please, please—”

Words escaped you in a desperate plea, like a mantra he could have listened to over and over again. Your body clinging to him, hair sticking to the back of your neck and your whole body shaking as you shamelessly fucked yourself on his thigh as he sat there, fully clothed and amused. 

“Come for me, little dove.”

The words barely processed in your head as your orgasm washed over you, a bright white light shining behind your closed eyes. Your head tilted back, his name and moans mixed together deliciously with sobs as your body let the pleasure wash over you. You were exhausted and sore and barely fucking coherent.

But he wasn’t done.

He ignored the whimpers that left your mouth as his grip on your hips remained, your cunt pressed against his thigh. He guided your face to his, unable to help himself as he kissed along your wet cheeks, the salty taste of your tears making him groan.

“Look how good I’m helping you,” Void murmured, lips brushing against yours but he never quite let you lean closer to kiss him. “You’re gonna help me too, hm?”

You let out a shuddered breath.

“Gonna be my good girl and help me, yeah?”

“I wanna be your good girl,” you whined softly, squirming in your spot and letting out a small moan as your clit brushed against his thigh again. “I wanna help.”

“So good for me,” Void praised as you leaned into his touch. He had you wrapped around his finger and he knew that. He knew that you were so fucked out and so fucking out of it that you would have done whatever he said, would have done whatever he pleased. And he would be lying if he said that thought alone didn’t make him unbearably hard.

You barely had time to respond before he had flipped you over, your stomach pressing into the edge as he bent you over the back of the couch. You could feel him behind you, his hands gliding along your back and down to your ass, squeezing and groping it. You jumped a little when he landed a quick slap on your cheek, the sound echoing through the basement along with your soft whimpers. 

You wanted to turn your head back, to look at him over your shoulder and see his face as he enters you but something told you to do otherwise. Instead you laid there, hands clenching the fabric of the couch as he spread your legs and let the cool air hit your soaking cunt.

“So wet for me,” he mused with a laugh, his fingers sliding along your slit and pressing slow, deliberate circles against your swollen clit. He lightly shushed you as you whined, his fingers moving to slowly push one inside you, enamoured by the way your cunt instantly clenched around him.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” Void muttered as he fucked you at a torturous pace, sliding in another finger to tease you that little bit more. “I don’t think you’ll be able to take me, little dove.”

“I can,” you gasped out, nodding your head helplessly. “I can take it. I promise I can take it.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to help you.”

Void groaned under his breath, the words sounding so desperate and innocent from your lips that he couldn’t resist any longer. He shrugged off the clothing with little care, his hand wrapped around his hard cock as he pumped it a few times, spreading the bead of precum along his tip.

You could feel the heat of his body behind you, his arms caging you in against the couch as he ran the head of his cock along your cunt, tapping your clit as you wriggled and squirmed beneath him. Breathless pleas escaped your lips as you urged him to fuck you, to finally be inside you and who was he to deny you when you sounded so pretty.

A broken moan let your lips as he thrusted inside you, little care about being gentle or tender with you. The groans that escaped his lips didn’t sound human as he entered you, feeling your tight cunt clench around him with such neediness.

“You wanted this, little dove, you wanted me to fuck you like this,” he growled as he bottomed out inside of you. “Such a desperate little thing, so needy for attention, aren’t you?”

“Void,” you moaned out, one hand reaching back to grab or hold some part of him as he mercilessly fucked you, your body bouncing with each thrust but it felt so good you couldn’t even care. “Please, please, please.”

“So fucking cockdrunk you can’t even answer me,” he said with a laugh that sounded so patronising it shouldn’t have made you clench around him the way you did. “Do I do your fantasies justice, hm? Can he make you feel like I can?”

You let out a high-pitched whine. “Stiles—”

“Don’t fucking say his name when I’m inside you,” he growled, his hand finding it’s place around your throat as he pulled you back until you were pressed against his chest. “He wouldn’t even know what to do with a desperate little thing like you.”

Your brain felt fuzzy as you approached your second high of the night, so close to the last and yet your body crazed it. You crazed the release—you craved him—like an addiction, a shot of pure fucking adrenaline and dopamine straight to your brain. You craved him like you craved air.

“Please,” you cried out, your legs shaking as you reached closer and closer to that edge.

“Come around my cock,” It sounded more like an order over anything else, but you were happy to comply. “Come around my cock and scream my name. You sound so pretty when you scream my name, when you tell everybody in this fucking prison who makes you feel like this.”

Everything passed in a blur. The tidal wave of exhaustion and pleasure as your second orgasm wracked through your body, the way Void groaned your name as he quickly followed you through your high a few thrusts later, coming inside you as he did. The way your eyes fluttered closed because it took too much effort to keep them open. It took too much effort to do anything at that moment.

But you could still feel him. His warm, heavy body behind you as he slowly pulled out, a soft whine leaving your lips when you felt his fingers graze over your leaking cunt, slowly fucking his cum back into you with two fingers. Your body felt buzzed and tired and sore, and yet you didn’t have the energy to tell him to stop.

Not as he fucked you through another orgasm.

Not as he held your shaking body as you cried out his name.

Not as he pressed his lips against your jugular, whispering “you’re mine” over and over again until it was the last thing you remembered as you passed out.

Because he was right.

He was the only one who understood and he was the only one who could help you.  

You were his.

.

[hedwig221b]

Full and Void | sterek | E | 23k | Ao3

Tags: Established Relationship, Canon Divergence, Void Stiles, Dark Stiles, Feral Derek, Beta to Alpha Derek, Minor Character Death, Kidnapping, Gore, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Wolfed-Out Sex, Mates, Bad Friend Scott McCall, Dark Allison

Summary: Stiles could be meek, sure. In Derek’s arms, softened under the touch, pinned under his weight. He allowed himself to relax only in Derek’s sole presence.

Stiles could also look meek. Small, scared. Let the enemies think he was hiding in his mate’s shadow. After all, no one would stop to think that the shadow could ever be dangerous.

[loonylupinblack3]

Pairing: Void/Stiles x reader

Warnings: surprisingly not many, unrequited love??, scary void??, mentions of murder/killing/death threats???

Summary: void corners you in the empty school and gives some insightful advice

Word count: 1.9k

“Void?” you breathed into the darkness.

Silence answered you, unsettling you more than you’d care to admit. You looked around the dim classroom, feeling your nerves dance in your stomach. The school was dark when the power was off. So dark that you could barely see to the other end of the room.

“Is anyone there?” you asked again, feeling panic claw at your throat as you waited for a response, every muscle in your body tensed.

Yet when you still didn’t get an answer, you started breathing a little easier. Maybe he wasn’t here. Maybe you could go home to your friends and forget about ever hearing that voicemail on your phone, threatening your family if you didn’t come to the school to meet up with him. To meet up with Void.

You let out another breath, letting your shoulders relax slightly as you turned towards the door. Void wasn’t here, and though that could mean you were here as a distraction, you couldn’t help but feel relieved that you didn’t have to see him. The Nogistune was truly terrifying, a supernatural creature you had no want to get to know.

“Going so soon?”

You froze, feeling like you’d just been dowsed in cold water. The hairs on your neck stood up as a wave of nausea hit you. Even still you didn’t turn around. You just stood there, rooted to the spot with your eyes squeezed shut, begging for this all to be a dream.

You heard Void’s soft footsteps as he walked up behind you, barely breathing. You waited with bated breath for him to say something, do something, but he just stood there behind you, enjoying the sight of your fear.

Suddenly you felt a finger trace your jaw and your eyes flew open to find Void standing right in front of you, a small smirk curled onto his face. You glanced behind you, but no one was there. When had he moved in front of you? Why hadn’t you heard him? You felt queasy as you thought of how silent Void had been, how he had purposely let you hear his footsteps, all to see you tremble before him. It was sick. He was sick.

You stared up at him, at the face that was once so familiar, now distorted and wrong, trying to find some shred of dignity inside of you. You didn’t want to seem afraid, but how could you hide your fear when he could smell it? When he feasted upon the very terror you were trying to hide from him?

Void stared right back at you, the smirk on his face slowly growing. He had bags under his eyes and he was very pale. You could only imagine Stiles was looking even worse, which made your stomach lurch.

“I’m glad you came,” Void finally spoke, the hairs on your arms rising just at the sound of his voice.

You swallowed thickly, trying to calm your heartbeat as he took a step forward, trailing his finger down to your throat, resting on your racing pulse. He smiled, his eyes flicking up to your face where he could no doubt see the terror written all over you, no matter your attempts to hide it away.

He grinned, the sight making your stomach drop. “Are you glad you came?”

Not really, you thought wryly, still able to keep your sarcastic demeanour even in serious situations. It was one of the reasons you and Stiles became friends so quickly; you were both too sarcastic for your own good. You knew in this moment though, where you were alone in an empty school with a Nogistune, that sarcasm would not help you.

So instead you just stayed silent, hoping Void would get to the point of why you were here. His hand was still on your pulse, which was unnerving you nearly as much as how close the Nogistune was to you, barely a breath away.

Void raised an eyebrow at your silence. “Not in a talking mood?”

Mutely, you shook your head. Void stared at you, cocking his head to the side as he raised his hand to lightly brush along your cheek. You did your best not to flinch, standing as rigid as a statue as you waited for him to be done with whatever he was doing. It was pathetic, you knew, but you didn’t have much of an option. You weren’t powerful like Scott or smart like Lydia. You couldn’t grow claws or punch with enough force to break walls. You were just an average human, one that Void could toy with however he wanted, because you certainly wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop him.

“Do you know why I asked you to come here?” Void asked, finally taking a step back.

Immediately you felt some weight on your lungs lift. You no longer felt like you were suffocating, because now you actually had space to breathe. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, but they were back open and alert as soon as he continued speaking.

“I asked you to come here because I have a theory.”

Curious, you couldn’t help but ask, “what theory?”

Void grinned, beckoning you closer with his hand. Reluctantly, you took a small step closer, but that didn’t seem to be enough for Void because he grabbed on your wrist and tugged you closer until you were flush against his chest.

Void looked down at you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as an unreadable expression took over his face. “Stiles Stilinski is in love with you.”

You stared at Void, momentarily caught off guard. Stiles, in love with you? You’d been helplessly in love with him for years, yet you’d always believed it was unrequited, what with Stiles’ infatuation with Lydia, but now here Void was, telling you he was in love with you, and he’d know better than anyone wouldn’t he, having possessed him and all.

Even so you couldn’t bring yourself to completely believe him. There was the doubt that had followed you around for years holding you back, the doubt that came in the form of Stiles staring longingly at Lydia, or the smile she’d put on his face that you’d never managed to do.

“How do you know?” you asked quietly, relieved that your voice didn’t waver like you’d feared it might.

Void looked at you pityingly. “Oh don’t worry, he loves Lydia more, if that’s what you were wondering.”

It felt like a kick to the stomach. You knew he preferred Lydia over you, knew he loved her more, but to actually here it be said, be confirmed, was worse than you could have ever imagined. It felt like all your dreams were being crushed, like your heart was being squeezed as hard as possible, like someone had taken a sledgehammer to your chest.

After everything you’d done for him. Every night spent doing his homework for him because he had gotton side tracked with helping Scott. Every time you picked him up after he fell, not Lydia. Every time you comforted when he was upset, letting him cry on your shoulder while Lydia was who knows where. It was you who had helped him all those times, you who had been there for him through everything, you who loved him endlessly, yet he’d choose Lydia over you in a heartbeat.

It wasn’t fair, and it angered you beyond measure. Instead of focusing on your grief, you focused on the rage, knowing it would help you in this situation more than sadness ever could. Anger was a weapon, something Derek had taught you early on, and you intended to use it as such.

“That’s not what I asked,” you eventually said. “I asked how you knew.”

Void raised his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised at your change of attitude. “Well, it ties in with my theory, you see. I split myself from Stiles, but in doing so I seemed to take a bit of him with me, as he took a bit of me with him. Now, I’m not sure what that part of me might have manifested into. It could be aggression, distrust, or anything, really, but I think I’ve figured out what his part manifested into.”

You couldn’t help but cross your arms, irritated at his monologue. You had just gotton your heart torn in two, yet he didn’t seem to care as he talked riddles at you. You’d asked him a simple question; you wanted a simple answer in return. “Which is?”

Void’s lips curved into a smirk as he stared at you. “I thought it would be obvious.” At your silence he continued. “It manifested into his love for you.”

You couldn’t help the “oh” that tumbled out of your mouth at his words. This whole confrontation was starting to make a bit more sense, now that you had all the information. This meant, though, that Void was in love with you. Void, a Nogistune that had killed countless people, was in love with you. What were you supposed to do with that?

“Why are you telling me this?” you finally managed to say.

He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes hungry as he stared you. “Because I want you to join me, Y/n. Stiles doesn’t deserve you, he never will. All these people you call friends will sacrifice you without a second thought if it meant saving someone else. You will always be a second choice if you stay there.”

You stared at him, a million thoughts racing through your mind at his request. Join Void? Could you really stand against your friends? Fight against them? The people who you’d known for years, who had always stuck by your side?

Not always, a vicious voice spoke in your mind. Void is right. You’re always a second choice to them. Always second best, when you deserve to be first. He had spoken all your doubts aloud, cementing them in truth. You’d always ignored them, but now that Void had acknowledged them you weren’t sure you could anymore.

Didn’t you want to be someone’s first choice? Didn’t you deserve it? After everything you’ve done for all of them, and they couldn’t even care enough to put you first. The familiar feeling of anger returned, and you remembered your goal to use it as a weapon. You hadn’t thought you’d use it against your friends, but then again, aren’t they the reason you were angry in the first place? Don’t they deserve to feel your anger, to know what pain you’d gone through?

You looked up at Void, searching his face for any hint of doubt, any hint that he didn’t actually want this. He only stared back at you hungrily, waiting for you to make your decision.

And you did.

You grabbed his neck and pulled him close, pressing your lips against him fiercely. He returned the kiss immediately, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer. You melted into the kiss, letting him explore your mouth and give you pleasure with every flick of his tongue. You held onto him tighter, relishing in the way he made you feel. No one had made you feel like this, made you feel as powerful as you did in this moment. You could tell that Void wanted you, the way he gave a sound of approval from his throat when you pulled him even closer.

He lifted you up on to a desk, moving between your legs and you dutifully wrapped them around him, your hands pressing against his chest. Void tilted your head to the side to get better access to your mouth, one of his hands going to your hair and entangling them in it.

You felt powerful, and you knew you’d get revenge on you so called ‘friends’, with Void right by your side.

[laheysdork]

strangers - stiles stilinski

summary: you decided that he’s a stranger to you a long time ago, but what if tragedy strikes and the only person that could help you is him?

word count: 4.8k

warnings: cursing, fights, angst, slight fluff, vomit?, a little violence

a/n: so sorry i have been mia for months, i moved out and am finally living (as in not being stuck in my room all the time) i have this enemies-to-lovers fic siting for the longest time in my draft so hope yall like it! the italic bolded ones are flashbacks in case it gets pretty confusing. and i would like to apologize beforehand 🤠

masterlist

Strangers—they’re not always the people we don’t know. Some of them can be by choice, someone we chose to forget.

Sighing at the thought of another dreadful day at school, you drag your feet towards your first class. Your muscle memory kicking in, you pick the seat at the back corner, trying to be as unnoticeable as possible as you wish you can hide under a huge invisible cloak. After dumping your bag onto the floor next to the table, your body lazily sinks into the chair. Shuffling inside the pocket of your hoodie, you take out your phone and click it on, looking at the time.

7.50 A.M.

For once, you are early. Class starts at 8, so you have an extra 10 minutes to waste. As you begin to think about ways to kill the time, you hear two familiar voices growing louder as they enter the class.

You know those voices by heart. The voices that would always cheer you up when you were sad, the voices that continuously came up with jokes every day, but also the same voices that have shattered the only living soul you have left. How could one bring so much joy but also pain?

“Come on, Stiles. Star Wars? Again? Don’t you have any other movies to watch for our weekly movie nights?” you grumbled irritatedly.

“Last week, Scott picked some lame-ass rom-com and forced us to sit through it so this week it’s MY turn for revenge.” He emphasized the ‘my’ and crossed his arms across his chest, smirking at the thought of his genius evil plan.

“Fine, but next week I’m making you watch Spiderman.”

His curled lips dropped flat instantly. “Spiderman? Y/N, you know I am a DC man. Why would you do this to me?” he whined in disbelief which earned a maniacal laugh from you.

“Well, as you said before Stilinski, that is MY turn for revenge.”

Losing yourself in your thoughts, 10 minutes have long passed as the coach abruptly enters the classroom.

“This is the right class, right? Yeah, I think so.” He mumbles to himself as he places his stuff onto the teacher’s desk and clears his throat.

“Since I’m busy today, you will be doing a pair project.”

And the class goes wild.

“Hey, shut up. I’m not done yet.” Coach yells which gradually silences the class.

“Before all of you got too happy, I will be picking the pairs. Some of you depended on other students too much and that is not good.” He shakes his head, trailing off the subject.

“So, uhm, I’m just going to write the pairs on the board and the instructions. While I’m at it, please for the love of God shut your mouth.”

You are surprised. As a generally unlucky person, today doesn’t seem so bad. You won’t have to sit through coach’s lectures for 2 periods, which you consider as a total win.

However, your triumph does not last long as the words written messily on the board haunt you.

Pair 3: Y/F/N Y/L/N, Stiles Stilinski

Fuck-

“Okay, so all you have to do is collect some general information regarding the market structures and make a mind map. Simple. Now, huddle up with your buddies and get to work.”

Even after everyone starts grouping up with their partners, you are still slumped in the corner, not having any sort of will or energy left to interact with Stiles Stilinski.

Thankfully (or not), Stiles decides to make the first move, his silhouette towering your sitting figure. As you strictly look at your phone, a loud screech filled your ears, Stiles noisily dragging a vacant chair next to your table.

“Y/N,” he called in a tone you can’t quite comprehend.

God.

“Yeah,” you replied bluntly, glancing up.

“I- um, I wanted to say-“

“Sorry, what? I can’t hear you.”

In fact, you actually can. Hell, you even know what he’s about to say. But you do not brace yourself for this. You can barely look at him, let alone talk to him.

“Hey, movie night at 7?” You nudged on Stiles' arms, startling him, busy going through a bunch of papers on his desk.

“Uhh, no. I’m busy tonight.” He glanced to you for a second then proceeds to occupy himself.

“Okay, how about tomorrow?”

Missing your best friends, you were determined to get the band back together. Stiles and Scott had been exceptionally busy for the past few days and you were not quite sure why.

At first, you thought maybe it had something to do with the new girl, Allison. Scott seemed to be all over her. But then there was that creepy peculiar guy, Derek, who was borderline stalking them. They started to ditch you alone, running off to some secret mission, and you were tired of it. Why were they keeping it from you? Did they not trust you enough?

“Also busy,” he muttered, his focus still fully on the pile of paper. Your mouth gaped to come up with something that would get them to spend time with you but was interrupted by the ringing of the bell. In a flash, Stiles stood up, aimlessly gathering his papers, and zoomed out of the class, leaving your deadpanned state unattended.

From the widely-opened door, you could see Stiles rushing over to Scott. He told Scott something inaudible unless you got some sort of super-hearing, but from the look on Scott’s face, it must’ve been urgently distressing. Both of them bolted out of the school together without you, once again.

“I’ll do the monopoly and monopolistic competition and you do perfect competition and oligopoly. I’ll draw the mind map after school,” you state clearly and monotonously, wanting to quickly get this over with.

“Y/N, I-“

“Is it unclear?” you snap, rather cold.

“No, but-“

“Okay, then. You better start reading.” You heavily lift your book out of the bag and drop it on top of your table.

“What the hell just happened? Scott? Stiles?”

Your quizzical eyes darted waveringly between the two jittery boys, confused and infuriated.

Earlier, the boys had invited you, Allison, Lydia, and Jackson to come over and study. For a while there, you were hopeful. You thought that this small gathering could be a step closer to things going back to how it was, but displeasingly, you were absolutely mistaken.

“I don’t know, it’s-“

“What kind of lie are you coming up with now huh, Stiles? I know you know something!” you confronted.

“Y/N, we didn’t-“

“Oh, you think I didn’t notice? That guy Derek? Then both of you suddenly went M.I.A for days? And don’t get me started with the ‘Sorry, Deaton needs me at the clinic’ or ‘Sorry, my dad called me, gotta go’. We’ve been friends since we were 10 for fucks sake!”

Gladly the three of you were left alone because you were furiously shouting at this point. Allison offered to drive Lydia home the moment she sensed the unnerving tension between the three of you.

“And now, even after whatever that thing is just almost killed us, you still think I don’t deserve to know the truth?”

You shot the two boys death glares through your teary eyes which they actively try to avoid. They looked miserably guilty, something you currently want them to feel.

“You know what, I’m done. Don’t bother chasing after me to explain. I can just ask Allison.” And with that bitter statement, you left the two stunned boys standing frozen on the front porch.

Both of you are quietly reading through the materials and highlighting the key points. You silently thank Stiles for not trying to initiate another awkward conversation, which probably is caused by your previous intimidation.

Luckily, time seems to fly as the bell rings, indicating the end of the class. Not wanting to spend another second in this hellhole, you immediately left the class.

Following that incident, Stiles and Scott tried to reach you for days. Your phone would constantly light up once every few hours with either Scott’s or Stiles’ name lighting up the lockscreen.

After a week or so, the calls eventually came to a halt. You were relieved the ongoing calls that you have convinced yourself were bothering you stopped. But deep down all those denials, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed that they gave up on you so effortlessly.

At the same time, you couldn’t blame them either. You were pretty ruthless.

Things never went back to normal. You avoided them at all cost, stop sitting at their table, vowing to never speak to them ever again.

You knew that keeping grudges would eventually hurt you more than it should but you were headstrong.

They did not trust you. They lied to you. They have made their bed and now you’re just simply letting them sleep on it.

However, this didn’t stop you from being attentive towards them. From time to time, you tried to keep tabs on them by checking in with Allison. But that was until she passed away.

The news left you completely devastated and heartbroken. Even though you were not on good terms with Scott and Stiles, you were still close with Allison.

She was your best friend. She patiently supported you through the heartache of losing your two best friends, she taught you how to stand strong independently, she gave you hope on the brighter days that had yet to come, but most importantly, she trusted you when Scott and Stiles didn’t.

You were also aware of the whole void situation, which pained you more than you thought it would. The thought of the vibrant, eccentric Stiles going through unspeakable agony and remorse wrecked you.

During Allison’s funeral, you decided that letting your distant facade down just for a day to console the pack won’t kill you.

Approaching them after the reception, a surprised look was painted on each of their faces, especially Scott and Stiles. You gave your condolences to everyone and hugged Stiles and Scott, something you haven’t done in ages. Their bodies stiffen from your unexpected action, but soon they melt into the hug and cling onto you tightly, finally accepting that you were really embracing them.

After pulling apart, you excused Scott to give you and Stiles a moment alone.

“Stiles, I know you’re thinking that this is your fault but listen to me, it is not. You were not in control. You were not you. You did not do this.”

Upon hearing comforting words from his long-lost friend, he let out an excruciating sob. Instinctively, you pulled him into your embrace once again as he squeezed you tighter.

You might not be able to forgive him yet but at least you could be there with him through this disastrous nightmare.

The whole day, you try to steer clear of Stiles or the pack. You know he’s trying to get a hold of you, probably wanting to discuss the unfinished project; but we don’t need to add more to the plate, don’t we?

Once school ended, you quickly rush home. From a distance, you can hear Stiles call out your name. But being the excellent evader you claim to be, you ignore them.

Just as you think the day can’t get any worse, the doorbell in your house chimes, indicating a guest present on your doorsteps. You sigh, knowing who is standing behind that door and this time you can’t dodge it.

So much for being an excellent evader.

“What?” you ask, getting straight to the point.

“We haven’t finished our project. I want to help you do the mind map.” He stares at you innocently, fumbling with his hands.

After all these years and he still got those puppy eyes.

“It’s fine, I can do it myself.” You try closing the door but he beats you to it.

“Come on, Y/N. I don’t want you ratting me out to Coach for forced labor, so please just let me in and we’ll work on it together,” he whines, hand still holding the door open.

Even after everything, you still can’t bring yourself to decline him. You have always had a soft spot for Stiles, which you are planning to terminate because it is starting to be troublesome.

“Fine,” you grunt in defeat.

A favorable grin is plastered on his face as he steps into your house.

Things seemed to change after Allison’s death. You noticed fresh faces joining the pack while familiar ones went away.

But out of the several new members, one had caught your eye the most. Her name’s Malia if you’re not mistaken; a snarky brunette, who’s built like a model too by the way.

From what you could tell from the persistent PDA, she was dating Stiles. Yeah, you weren’t exactly in a position to have a say on it, but you were getting real sketchy vibes from her, or so you thought.

“Stiles, you’re still coming over right?” you heard Malia speak to your ex-best friend as you opened your locker across from them.

“Yeah, definitely. I’ll teach you maths too since you’re so bad at it.” You tried not to overhear their conversation but you just couldn’t help it.

“Thanks. You’re the best!” she cried out as she treaded away from Stiles, a pang striking your chest.

Maybe, you’re just slightly jealous.

Okay, slightly was an understatement.

It seemed like you’re still unable to completely erase your suppressed attraction towards him, even when clearly he had.

To minimize any sort of unnecessary interaction, you try to fully put your focus on the project—which works. For the past 15 minutes, the two of you are settled in your living room in silence, minding your own business.

At least until Stiles decides to be clumsy and drop his plastic cup, water spilling all over the floor. You roll your eyes and grab a cloth from the kitchen to clean up the mess.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he curses under his breath as you are drying up the floor.

“It’s fine.”

No actually, it’s not. This situation right here is not fine. You’ve had the shittiest day at school and to make it even worse, Stiles decides to show up uninvitedly at your house which is supposedly your only stress-free zone.

“I’ll help you clean it up.” He squats down, trying to get the cloth from your grip.

“No, you don’t have to.” You don’t want him to cause any more inconvenience, even though you know very well he doesn’t mean it.

“I want to help Y/N, I-“

“What, Stiles? You want to help? Then please for the love of God, leave me alone!” You stand up and snap at him, a bit too loudly. You feel bad for being too hard on him when he’s only trying to help, but you’re unable to extinguish your growing anger.

He straightens up, his once warm face turn into an enraged frown.

“Is this still about what happened back then? Fuck, Y/N. I’ve said sorry, Scott has, thousands of times. But you still don’t want to forgive us. So tell me now Y/N, what should I do, huh?”

The sudden increase in his volume catch you by surprise. He has always been so radiant and carefree, you have never seen him this mad. But despite that, the rage inside of you still does not subdue.

You let out a humorless chuckle.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Stiles. You think that I get to choose not to forgive you, that I’m the evil one and maybe I am at some point. But don’t you dare pull the victim card here.”

Your sight becomes blurry as your eyes start to sting from all the overwhelming emotions but you can care less.

“You lied to me. You left me alone, confused, scared, even after knowing very well how my mom lied to me about my father abandoning me. You know how much I relied on you and Scott, but you still broke my trust. You hurt me. And you think a bunch of “sorry”s will immediately fix that? It’s not that simple, Stiles.”

You’re not screaming as loud as you did before. The tone of your voice softens as a new emotion takes control over your body—pain.

Frustrated, Stiles rummages through his hair while letting out a scoff.

“But it’s not just a bunch of “sorry”s isn’t it? We kept on calling you after that day. We tried approaching you at school. Fuck, I even tried to be nice to you earlier today. But guess what I got in return? Another silent treatment. Why can’t you just fucking move on already? You’re being too overdramatic. No wonder your mom lied to you.”

Bang. His words hit you like a bullet, piercing right through your heart.

Your once agape mouth closes shut, your furrowed eyebrows straighten. Stiles has crossed the line this time.

“Get out,” you spat, emotionless.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean to-“

“I SAID GET OUT, STILES,” you yell at the top of your lungs, frightening him. With horror painted all over his face, he immediately picks up his bag and exits your house, too frightened to say anything else.

As the door shuts, more tears start to flow down your cheeks. You are exhausted. Today’s fiascos have drained every ounce of energy you have left, leaving you like a corpse.

After getting your lifeless, sickly self to shower, you directly plop into your bed, curling yourself in the soft quilt of your blanket. Needing an escape from this dreadful reality, you flutter your eyes shut, instantaneously falling asleep.

You wake up to your accustomed alarm, growling at the blaring sound you set. Finally having enough will to get out of bed, you head to your bathroom.

Turning on the lights, your reflection in the mirror stares back at you.

Gosh, you look dead.

Your skin is as pale as a sheet, your eyes are puffy with prominent dark circles forming under them, your hair is messy and icky. You feel disgustingly terrible.

Dabbing a whole lot of concealer on your skin, you get ready for school; deciding to put whatever catastrophe that had happened yesterday behind you.

Fortunately, you only have one class with Stiles for the day. The day goes by pretty fast and to your delight, pretty decent too, probably because you spend a few periods in the infirmary.

But again, the universe seems to find so much pleasure in inflicting pain on you.

Midway through the class, a sharp sting strikes your head. Interrupting Mr. Yukimura, you excuse yourself to leave the class.

As you reach the empty halls, you feel an eerie sensation creeping all over your body. Alarmed for some reason you don’t know, you scan the halls hastily. You can see nothing, but you do hear something. A bug-like, rattling noise gradually fills your ears, followed by a raspy, unearthly wheeze.

What the fuck is happening?

You’re shivering, cold sweats covering your body. Not being able to stand the unknown terrors, you abruptly sprint to the vacant locker room.

Bad idea. Should’ve picked a more crowded room.

Securing yourself in a room alone definitely does not make you feel any safer. The rattling has stopped but the ominous feeling only grew more prominent.

You are about to escape before sudden nausea hits you. Before you knew it, your knees drop to the floor, your throat retching, vomiting a slimy, ink-like substance.

Now you are horrified.

The door to the locker room flies open, showing two familiar figures. Their eyes find your unusually glowing whiskey-colored ones.

“Fuck, she’s one of them,” Stiles spoke, eyes fixated only on you.

Scott rushes over to you as Stiles stands still, trying to let the sight in front of him sink in. While bracing your fragile body to a steady sitting position, Scott checks in on you with a few “are you okay?”s to which you shake your head.

“What is happening to me, Scott?” you question, panic in your eyes.

After hearing a very complicated and detailed explanation about chimeras and the dread doctors, you are left speechless in front of all the members of the pack who came running right away at the bad news a while ago when you were still seated frozen in a shocked haze.

“Okay so, let me summarize everything,” you mutter so softly to the point it sounds like a whisper while standing up, Stiles hands instinctively finding your body to support you.

“I am a chimera, which is a scientifically-made supernatural creature. The dread doctors, the psychos who are behind this, are going to take me away,” you enunciate to the pack—more like to yourself—to prove your understanding of the matter in which Scott nods in return.

He then tries to come up with a plan to save you from being taken, but you’re not really listening.

Even though you look composed, you are actually on edge, occasionally convincing yourself that everything is under control.

From the very little you heard, basically, they plan on keeping you here in the locker room for the rest of the day—something to do with the telluric currents.

After the plan is finalized, everyone departs for their appointed roles, leaving only one person behind to watch over you.

Out of everyone in the pack, why him?

“I have a spare shirt in my locker, do you maybe want to change into them?” Stiles pointed to your now stained white T-shirt.

You are about to refuse the boy’s offer but looking at the matching black splatter on your shirt and the floor makes you feel queasy, so you comply.

“Okay, we’ll go to the boy’s locker room and leave this mess here.”

“We should clean it-“

“No, you’re not in the state to do any work. I’ll ask someone to clean it up later.” He grabs your arm and leads you out the door to the boy’s locker room, which is no different than the girl’s, pretty disappointing.

Stiles rummages his locker for a second before handing his grey shirt to you.

You stare at him, waiting for him to give you some privacy to change your clothes. But it seems like he isn’t getting the memo.

“What?” he blurts so blatantly as you sigh in return.

Oh God has he always been this slow?

“Are you planning on cheating on Malia? Because I’m about to change here and unless you’re blind, you’re going to have to see me pretty much naked.” His jaw drops at your snarky remark. His face growing warmer as it’s tinted with a crimson color.

“O-Oh yeah, of course. I’m no longer dating Malia though but uhh that’s not important. I’ll turn around- Or do you want me to leave the room? I can do that.” He fidgeted, totally taken aback and flustered.

“Don’t leave me alone, please. Just turn around.”

Both of you are astonished by your statement. But it’s the truth. Alone, you were petrified. At least being with Stiles makes you feel a little more secure.

Just a day ago you were shouting for him to leave, but now you practically begged him to stay. How ironic.

After you have changed into his cozy oversized shirt which for the record smells like his aftershave that you liked, you keep away your dirty shirt, sit on the bench beside him, and thank him.

Once again, silence befalls the both of you. The air between you two today has somehow shifted from yesterday. It’s still thick and tensed, but not full of rage and resentment.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he mutters after a while with his head low.

“Stiles-“

“No, I have to say it. You were right. I was so stupid. I should have never blamed you for not being able to trust me. I’ve hurt you, Y/N, and I deserve this.” His regretful honey eyes are fixed deeply into yours.

Despite the guilt building up inside your body, you do not reply to him straight away. You need time to process this.

Are you still mad at him? Yes. But do you feel bad for being mean towards him? Also yes.

As you are contemplating, the door to the locker room swings open, revealing Scott and the others.

Liam is clutching a large navy duffel bag in his hand, its contents still a mystery to you. Lydia and a man who you aren’t familiar with are carrying a bunch of radio transmitters. Malia is holding a steel bat, which later on is passed over to Stiles.

Once they are all inside, they start to get busy. Lydia, Stiles, and the guy—Parrish, according to what you heard the pack calls him—go around the room, placing the equipment all over it. Malia and Liam are near the door, pushing the shelves to cover all the exits except the main one. And Scott is hovering over the duffel bag which was placed earlier on the bench across you.

He slowly zips the bag open, inspecting it. Being your inquisitive self, you lift your head up to get a better view. But before you get a sight of anything, Scott zips it back close and takes it with him.

After everyone’s done with their designated tasks, they all gather to form a small circle, yourself included.

“Okay, Lydia and Parrish, you two stay in the car outside. Malia and Liam, stand by in the halls. Me, Stiles, and Y/N will stay here. Got it?” Scott instructs clearly to which everybody nods and proceed to their assigned areas.

All of them seem so prepared as if they are properly equipped for battle, except you.

Minutes have passed as there is no sign of the dread doctors. You are sitting quietly on the bench, fumbling with your fingers as Stiles and Scott pace around the room.

Your eyes darted from the two mobile boys to the duffel bag resting on the bench in front of you. Now, you’re curious.

When Scott isn’t looking, you swiftly slide to the opposite bench and zip the bag open, uncovering a bunch of weighty chains.

“What are these for?” Your voice echoes through the noiseless room, earning glances from them both.

“I brought them, just in case.” Scott moves closer to where you are.

“In case of what?” You don’t quite understand what he is implying.

“In case we have a chance to catch one of them,” Scott answered composedly.

“What?” Stiles snaps from behind Scott.

“If we can’t make the school a fortress, maybe we can make it a trap.” Scott’s attempt to explain to the two of you only receives a scoff of disbelief from Stiles.

“And you’re making her the bait?” he questions sharply.

“That’s not what I said-“

“Yeah, right.” Stiles rolls his eyes as Scott glances over to you, an apologetic look plastered on his face.

You don’t know what to feel about this situation. Yes, you are hurt that Scott possibly considered you as bait. But rationally, he does have a point. At the same time, you are also impressed at Stiles' initiative to immediately defend you.

“Wait a minute, I hear something. I’ll go out and check it. You two stay here.” Before any of you can protest, Scott fleets out of the room.

And then there’s two. Awkward silence once again engulfs the two of you. But this time, you’re the one who breaks it.

“Thank you, for defending me,” you utter gently as he sat beside you.

“Of course, Y/N. Always. I will always protect you.” He grasps your hands into his, giving you a reassuring smile, relieved that you finally drop your cold exterior.

The long-awaited moment of truce you two are sharing is sadly interrupted by the familiar rattling noise that unexpectedly appeared, causing you to stand up, followed by Stiles.

“Stiles, I hear them,” you quiver, fear rushing through your body.

“Me too. Hey, Scott?” He forms a half-circle using his palms, cupping them around this mouth. He continues to call out his best friend’s name a few more times before he retreats.

“Where the fuck is he?” Exasperated and worried, he restlessly gazes around the room.

“They’re coming, Stiles.” Feeling hopeless and discouraged, you put your hand on his shoulder, trying to calm his agitated body. You have accepted your fate. They’re taking you away.

“No, I’m not letting them take you.” His hands caress the sides of your arms, tears forming in his eyes.

“They will.” Your palms cup his face, thumb wiping away the warm teardrops streaming down his cheeks.

Mirroring your actions, he also cups your cheeks, staring at the little details of your face, memorizing them like it’s the last time he’ll get to be close to you.

Then he tilts his head and leans closer, shutting the distance between your lips. Fluttering your previously widened eyes shut, your lips passionately brushed along his plump ones as your hands fall from his cheeks to his chest, heart pounding loudly, warmth radiating throughout your body.

Just as he initiated it, he pulls away, honey eyes never leaving yours.

“I will find you, okay?” You nod as shadows appear behind Stiles’ figure.

The dread doctors.

He also sensed their presence as he immediately snatches his bat from the bench. He commands you to stay behind him which you obey.

Cowering behind Stiles’ figure, they have the two of you cornered and helpless. He tightens his grip and aggressively swings his bat at one of them but to no avail. Inching closer, they shove him away, grabbing a hold of both your arms.

You’re hysterically crying out for help, vigorously attempting to break free. Forcefully holding you still, they jab a sharp needle to the side of your neck as your limp body dropped to the ground. Your vision turns dark, the last thing you see is Stiles’ unconscious body lying in front of you.

[janedoeswriting]

The Way The Wind Blows (Stiles x OC)

CHAPTER ONE

Description: Rhiannon finds herself trapped within her guilty pleasure tv show— Teen Wolf. Now, she must choose which path to take… one that leads back home, and another that follows uncertain adventure.

Tags: extreme slow burn, frienemies to lovers, fix it fic, canon change, actions have consequences.

TW: smut??, angst, fluff, sexual harassment, anxiety, depression, obsession, domestic violence, manipulation, etc. Just please do not read if you are sensitive to difficult subjects.

(Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd)

Rhiannon tried not to look at the clock. The time grew ever closer to midnight without sympathy. The television lit up the room in flashes of light.

Familiar characters spoke. Their voices were the only sound, other than Rhiannon’s sigh. She had school in the morning. Binge watching Teen Wolf wasn’t exactly a good idea. If she didn’t go to sleep soon, she’d be screwed. But these days, watching an old favorite TV show was the only thing keeping her mind distracted.

Wind outside rattled the window. A storm was on its way in. The wind wasn’t uncommon in a place like Florida. A tropical storm warning had been issued earlier that afternoon. Rhiannon checked the clock. 12:05 am. She pursed her lips and continued to watch the screen.

Gradually, her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Her body sunk deeper within her cozy bed. Her cat’s purring and warmth lulled her like a lullaby. The television continued to play as Rhiannon’s breathing slowed and she fell into sleep.

A crack of thunder so loud it shook the house caused Rhiannon to jump. Her heart raced, and the lights in the street went out. Rhiannon looked to the TV only to find it had shut off, along with all the other lights in the house. Her cat scurried underneath the bed.

Rhiannon groaned and fell back into the sheets. A strange feeling washed over her— as if she had just woken up from a really good dream. One that she couldn’t remember.

Almost as quickly as Rhiannon thought it, the street lamps flickered back on. The tv lit up too, but instead of the home screen or Teen Wolf, a static screen lit up her room. Rhiannon sighed. The buzzing noise was incessant. She got up and approached the screen.

A strange humming sound behind the static noise caused Rhiannon to slow her approach. Her eyebrows furrowed and she hesitated. The humming was getting louder— like the deep guttural voice of an animal. But it was methodical. Almost as if the voice was singing. Her cat hissed from under the bed.

Rhiannon stepped forward and stretched her hand to the screenHer body moved in a trance, and something like an anchor tied to a line pulled at her gut. All she knew is that she had to touch it.

Her fingers pressed against the warm screen. She was zapped by static electricity, and jumped back. That was the last thing Rhiannon remembered before she woke up.

Before everything she had ever known turned upside down.

—

Stiles was growing more and more frustrated with Scott's blatant disregard for what was right in front of them.

"I'm telling you, Scott. That's not normal."

The blue jeep flew down the road. The fresh rainfall slickened the pavement and reflected the lights illuminating the road. The sound of the tires whsshed down the street.

"Deer don't just run into windshields. Especially when the car isn't even moving," Stiles continued. Scott nodded, but Stiles could tell his best friend's mind was elsewhere.

"Stiles, it was clearly confused. Maybe it was sick." Scott said as he looked out the passenger window. Scott was still upset that his tattoo, which he'd painfully sat two hours for and spent money on, had healed. He held his arm with the ghost of the feeling that it was still there.

But mostly, it had to do with a girl.

"Or maybe it was terrified, huh? Did you think of that?" Scott didn't even try to disguise his lack of interest. "Did you see the way Allison looked at me. Did she look like... Did she look like she missed me?" Scott asked hopefully.

He was still rocked by Allison and Lydia's sudden appearance out of nowhere, and then the events that followed. A deer crashing through the girls' windshield. Mr. Argent and Mrs. Martin rushing to the scene with worry. A deputy showing up and taking a report, and a tow truck carrying Lydia's car off. Scott recalled Allison's face gazing at him from the passenger seat as Mr. Argent pulled away.

It was a look of sorrow. And maybe even pity.

He rubbed his arm again. "No, Scott. I was a little busy thinking about the giant deer that killed itself on Lydia's car." Stiles said sarcastically. Scott sent him an exasperated look. "It didn't kill itself."

"It could have." Stiles murmured, shifting in the seat as his mind whirred. Driving usually always helped calm his mind, but after that night's events it only seemed to make his ADHD worse.

They drove down the familiar road. Stiles' eyes instinctively caught on the nature preserve sign and road leading to it. Nine months before, Stiles had parked there, and the two of them had stumbled into the forest. That night changed their lives forever. Whenever Stiles drove by it now, he couldn't help but turn and look.

"Stiles!" Scott exclaimed. Stiles' head snapped forward and he swerved. In a blur, they narrowly missed hitting someone standing in the middle of the road. Someone who had come out of the woods. Stiles slammed on his breaks and they spun to a stop. The jeep's headlights shown on the figure before them. It was a girl. She was tall and thin. And completely naked. Her body was covered in dirt and mud and leaves. Her brown hair was matted around her head in a wild tangle with small twigs and leaves poking out. She was shaking profusely.

For a long moment, Scott and Stiles stared at the girl in shock. They turned to each other at the same time and made surprised eye contact and then turned back. Her head rose, and cobalt eyes squinted in the light. One of her hands blocked her privates, and the other arm concealed her breasts from view.

Stiles fumbled for the door handle and his seatbelt, and ended up falling out of the jeep. Scott followed in suit, but much more gracefully. By the time Stiles had gotten on his two feet, Scott was already digging around Stiles' trunk for something.

Stiles stepped forward cautiously. The girl didn't flinch or step away. She turned her face away from the light and looked at him.

"Hey.... Are you okay?" Stiles said softly, doing a great job of maintaining eye contact without slipping to the distraction of a totally naked girl in front of his face.

"D-.....," the girl started. "Dylan O'Brien?"

Stiles blinked at her and shook his head with furrowed brows. Finally, Scott came up behind with a blanket. "Here." Scott said gently and wrapped the blanket around the girl. She quickly slipped it around her body, holding the large wool blanket tightly around herself. Stiles noticed that she was shaking like a leaf. The grey blanket only seemed to make her blue/grey eyes even brighter.

"You're.. Tyler Posey," she said, and silence stretched before she asked, "Am I being pranked?"

As soon as the words left her lips Rhiannon realized how silly that sounded. What kind of a prank would get her stripped down naked and leave her in the woods, only to be rescued by two famous actors?

"No, I'm sorry," Scott said slowly. "My name is Scott, and this is Stiles."

There was another long moment of silence in which the boys watched her in confusion. Scott looked to Stiles and without speaking, Stiles stepped away to the jeep. He turned on the radio and called through the scanner into the police station. "We need an ambulance to the entrance of the nature preserve, now."

Stiles turned it off before he could hear his father on the other end saying "Stiles, get off the radio." But no sooner did he say that did Sheriff Stilinski bark orders and run out to his cruiser with his jacket in hand.

Rhiannon couldn't help but scoff at him in disbelief. "Scott? Like Scott McCall? Now I know I'm being pranked. Where're the cameras?" She said while turning about to look for wherever the hidden cameras were. This was one hell of a prank to put her naked in front of two of her celebrity crushes.

"This- This isn't a prank." Stiles said in confusion, but Scott held up his hand to signal for Stiles' caution and silence.

"Where did you come from?" Scott asked gently. He could hear her heartbeat racing. "What's your name?"

Rhiannon was still looking around for cameras. She did a 360 degree rotation, but came up blank. "Come on, the gigs up. This was very funny," she said, adding a laugh at the end. She'd kill whoever's idea this 'prank' was. The boy's concerned faces only turned her laugh sour in her throat.

"Okay, okay you guys are good actors. I get it..."

But the looks on the boy's faces were only getting more and more serious. Rhiannon was beginning to grow frustrated and even more confused than she already was. "Okay, this isn't funny anymore. Where am I? Why did I wake up in the woods?" She said, trying not to lose her cool in front of them. But tears were pricking at the corners of her eyes and she swallowed the lump forming in her throat.

"We're in Beacon Hills. It's going to be okay, an ambulance is on it's way." Scott said soothingly.

Sure enough, sirens sounded in the distance-- growing closer and closer. "Do you remember your name?" Stiles asked, stepping forward. But Rhiannon stepped back as her body ran hot in a flash. Her face flushed red and she barked, "And, what? I'm supposed to believe you're Stiles Stilinski? This isn't funny! Please stop."

Scott and Stiles looked at each other in confusion.

"You know what? Give me my phone! I'm calling my mom." She demanded. "We don't have your phone..." Scott said and tried to step forward like she was a rabid animal needing taming.

"Stop!" She exclaimed. Scott froze in place.

Stiles sucked in a breath heavily and stepped forward. "Listen-- everything is going to be okay. I know you're confused right now. So are we. You can use my phone to call your mom as soon as the ambulance arrives." The sirens couldn't have been more than a block down the road now. Rhiannon met Stiles' eyes and breathed in slowly, calming herself down. "Fine." She said.

"Can you tell us your name? We just want to help." Stiles said.

Rhiannon hesitated, but ultimately told him. "Rhiannon. Like the Fleetwood Mac song. But everyone just calls me Rhi."

"Rhi. Alright, It's nice to meet you Rhi. I'm Stiles." Stiles said, cracking a slight smile. Finally, the ambulance pulled up in front of them, flanked by two cop cars.

Paramedics and Sheriff Stilinski rushed forward. Scott pulled away and spoke to his father. He seemed to be trying to be quiet, but Rhiannon could hear them. The paramedics approached the girl with rehearsed scripts meant to calm and protect, but she secretly kept her attention on their conversation.

"We found her just- standing. In the middle of the road. I think she came from the woods. She's disoriented, and maybe in shock."

"Alright. Leave the diagnosis to the doctors. We need to figure out what's going on." Sheriff Stilinski said, and turned to his son and the strange girl wearing only a blanket. The other deputy approached and pulled Scott to the side for a quick statement of what had happened.

"This is my dad. He's--," Stiles started. He spoke to her like she was a china cup teetering on the edge of a table. Rhiannon cut him off. "Sheriff Stilinski."

"Hi... I don't know if we've met--," he started. Rhiannon shook her head. "We haven't."

He pursed his lips and nodded. The paramedics approached. The doors of the ambulance were open. They carried a reflective hypothermic blanket with them. Rhiannon nodded and walked towards them, understanding that she needed immediate physical exams.

As Rhiannon answered all the paramedics questions and followed instruction to sit down in the ambulance, she met Stiles' eyes as he spoke urgently to his father. A moment passed as their eyes locked. It broke after a few seconds when the ambulance doors shut and they began their exam and the ambulance pulled away.

Thirty minutes after the ambulance left the scene, Stiles drove down Scott's street. He was back to rambling at a million miles a minute. This time, Scott couldn't disagree much with the claims that there was something going on.

"We need to go to the hospital and ask her questions tomorrow. Figure out what happened." Stiles said.

"No, we need to leave her alone. She was probably lost or hurt. Maybe she hit her head, or sleep walked, or escaped Eichen House," said Scott. "She knows something, Scott."

"What makes you think that?" Scott responded. "Because, she knew my last name. Which I never told her. And she knew my dad, who she's never met." Stiles said. "Your dad is the sheriff, and your the sheriff's son." "And how did she know your last name?" Stiles retorted. "I don't know....," But as Scott struggled to come up with a retort he realized he didn't have. How did she know who he was? "She called us both by different names when she first saw us. She probably mistook us for other people." Scott said.

"Well we definitely aren't whoever Tyler and Dylan are. But she recognized who we were. She knew our names. Almost like she remembered us." Stiles said, passionately recalling that look in her eyes.

Scott didn't know what exactly to say to Stiles. "Listen, we can read her statement after your dad gets one from her. Let's start there before we go around harassing my mom's patients."

"How would you know if she's one of your mom's patients?" Stiles asked.

"Knowing this town, she would be." Scott said. Stiles inclined his head with resigned concurrence.

--

Rhiannon's head was throbbing. The entire situation had so thoroughly exhausted her she didn't even know her left from her right. Her mind whirred just as much as the world around her was. Bustling paramedics and an ENT, police officers, doctors. When Rhiannon was finally given a clean hospital gown and told to shower, she thought she would collapse.

The water quickly turned hot. The closed door and noise of the water crashing against the tile opened something within her that had been temporarily shut. A sob ripped through her chest like she hadn't done in weeks.

She stepped under the water and the sobs kept coming. The tearing pain in her chest, the way her throat contracted as she struggled to breath. They must have heard her because a knock sounded at the door. "I'm fine!" Rhiannon shouted. She wouldn't have been able to get the words out if she hadn't been so desperate to be alone. She silently continued, sitting down on the tile floor of the shower and wrapping her arms around her knees. She must have been there a while because a soft knock sounded and Rhiannon jumped.

She realized she was almost falling asleep, staring at the water flowing down the drain in the numb aftershock of her crying.

"Are you okay in there?" The kind voice asked. Rhiannon opened her mouth. Her voice felt distant and strange-- like it wasn't her own. "Yes... Just a few more minutes!" Rhi called back. She uncurled from her position and stood on creaky legs. She took the soap and lathered her body, scrubbing off any evidence of dirt or smell from the forest. A chill went down her spine, and for a moment she was there again. Calling for help with no hero in sight. The full moon illuminating the forest through the leaves. Shadows lurking between the trees--carrying unknown predators. In the distance, a stretch of flat wood covered in moss.

Rhiannon scrubbed harder. Then, she scrubbed her scalp. She pulled the twigs and leaves from her hair. Used the conditioner and her fingers to gradually detangle the knots. Until all she could smell was body wash and cheap shampoo and conditioner. A small collection of twigs and leaves were caught at the drain, but the water ran clear.

When Rhiannon put on the blue gown and looked into the mirror she wondered if she were in a dream. She looked down and counted her fingers- five on each hand- and then scoffed to herself. She'd learned that from Teen Wolf-- having extra fingers means you're in a dream. This wasn't Teen Wolf. It was a dream. It had to be a dream. Either that or Rhiannon was going out of her mind.

She stepped out of the bathroom to a warm-looking hospital room. It was quiet and clean. A lamp illuminated the space from the side table. The door opened and a nurse walked inside. She was tan-skinned and had brown hair and large brown eyes. And Rhi recognized her. This time, Rhi swallowed and didn't say anything. The woman approached her with kind eyes and a soft motherly smile. "Hello. You feelin' warmed up?" She asked.

Rhiannon nodded and just stared at the woman. It was strange to see her. To be here. A memory from earlier flashed before her mind. As she was being ushered into the emergency room the sign of the hospital read 'Beacon Hills Memorial'. The police officers who flashed in and out of her vision had badges that said 'Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department'. Mr. Stilinski's face flashed before her eyes as well. Rhiannon thought she was remembering that too, but it really was Mr. Stilinski at the threshold of the door. More people, an FBI agent and a doctor, stood at the door with him.

Rhiannon turned to the woman. "Ms. McCall," she said. The woman looked somewhat surprised but nodded expectantly. Rhiannon continued. "I have to answer their questions don't I?"

Ms. McCall smiled and nodded, but her expression was now one of empathy. "Yes, I'm afraid you do. They'll keep it fast," She added with a pointed look at the sheriff. Ms. McCall guided Rhi to the bed and helped her in with gentle hands. "Can I get you some water?" She asked.

Rhi nodded and smiled with grateful eyes. The doctors had already examined her thoroughly when Rhi got there. It was a blur, and she had been covered in dirt. They tested her vitals and for signs of hypothermia. She came out of it unscailthed, but was told she would be given an IV after her shower.

Mrs. McCall gave her a glass of water and she sipped it while the woman worked, and while the police and doctor asked her questions.

What was her name?

"Rhiannon Penelope Watson."

How old was she?

"I'm fifteen. I turn sixteen on August 18th."

Mrs. McCall looked up, and made eye contact with the Sheriff. They continued with the questions.

What year were you born?

Rhi hesitated. For the first time, Rhiannon realized that maybe she should lie. If this was just a dream, then it wouldn't matter anyway. That instinct ran through her in a jolt. "I--..." She hesitated, but continued. "I don't know. I can't remember."

The police paused and the doctor scribbled fervent notes. They continued.

Do you remember your parents' names?

Rhiannon hesitated again. "No.... I know them. I can't-- I-I-I can't--," but the doctor interrupted her faux struggle. Rhiannon very well knew her parents names. But the realization that they might not be here... Tears even pricked at her eyes, but those may have been real. The Sheriff spoke. "It's alright. You're going to be okay, Rhiannon. We're going to help you."

And it sounded a lot like Stiles. The boy's voice and face flashed in her memory. It all felt so real. This felt so real. She looked down at her arm, where Melissa had finished preparing the IV. "Relax your arm. You may feel a slight prick but only for a moment." Melissa's hands were steady, but Rhi could feel her pity almost palpable in the air.

Weren't you supposed to wake up when you pinched yourself? The sharp stab of the needle certainly felt worse than a pinch.

What is the last thing you do remember?

So she wasn't dreaming. Rhiannon recalled that in order to stick to a lie, one must tell as much of the truth as possible. And if she was having some sort of mental breakdown or an onset of schizophrenia, then she should probably start telling the truth. "I remember waking up. On a big tree trunk. I didn't have any clothes. I started calling out but nobody was there. I don't know how long I was walking around for, but I saw a flash of light. I followed it. It was so cold. I realized I was in the street when your son almost ran me over," Rhiannon said, gesturing to Mr. Stilinski, who grimaced.

"He and Scott were there. They told me it was going to be okay... But it's not okay. I'm crazy, aren't I?" She said

The crushing weight of it hit her shoulders. She was crazy. Melissa, who had finished with the IV, reached for Rhi's hand. A lump in Rhi's throat caught and a tear escaped onto her cheek. Melissa turned, concern etched over her face.

"Can I be alone with Ms. McCall?" Rhi asked. They turned to her in surprise.

Mr. Stilinski nodded and said, "Of course." The FBI agent seemed to begrudgingly leave, and the doctor said, "We can finish questions in the morning."

Finally, the door shut behind them. Rhiannon wiped her tear quickly and looked down at their intertwined hands. Mrs. McCall pulled a chair forward and sat. Rhiannon met her intense gaze.

"Mrs. McCall. I've been thinking... I don't really-- I don't really know when I am."

Melissa's confusion and pity rose, and it showed on her face. Rhiannon squeezed her hand. "Tell me-- What grade is Scott in?" Melissa's brows furrowed and head shrunk back in surprise.

"My son? Honey--," she started, but Rhiannon interrupted.

"Please." And Rhiannon was sincere. Her eyes pleaded, and she waited in desperation for Melissa's answer.

"A-.. He's an incoming junior." Melissa said.

Rhiannon looked down, mind racing at the information. What did that mean? If he was a rising junior then Melissa knew about the supernatural. This was-- Rhiannon counted in her mind-- season three, then. Maybe even before season three, because if Rhiannon's memory served her correctly, Scott had no tattoo on his arm. Just great. Melissa saw the expression on Rhiannon's face. "Rhiannon, are you okay?" Rhi nodded, and looked up when another realization struck her. "That means you know. You know... about Scott....About what he is. That he's a werewolf."

Melissa drew back, letting go of Rhiannon's hand now. There was a moment of silence and appraisal, "Who are you?" Melissa wasn't exactly defensive, but she was bordering on it.

"Listen to me. Please-- I need your help. I'm not from here." Rhiannon said, her mind still whirring but her energy rising. Melissa's head slightly shook. "Beacon Hills?" she asked in bewilderment.

"No. Well, yes, but no. I'm from a different world."

Rhiannon drew up. "I need to get back home." --

Stiles didn't manage to miss his father's thwack upside the head. "What in the world were you doing? Driving around at night almost running over traumatized young girls?!"

The anger in Mr. Stilinski's voice was palpable. Stiles exasperatedly said, "Well I didn't know she would be coming out of the woods into the middle of the road!" The hospital hallway was practically empty now that the FBI agent went home for the night and the doctor disappeared down the hallway with physicians assistants and nurses in tow.

Mr. Stilinski still pointedly made a face at Stiles to keep his voice down. Stiles hushidly said, "Is she okay?" The worry on his face wasn't concealable. Mr. Stilinski pursed his lips and nodded, that look of pity returning to his eyes.

"She's going to be fine. Woke up in the woods. Doesn't remember her parents, or when she was born. It might be hard tracing this back to wherever she came from." Stiles found himself looking to the door of the room as his father spoke.

"She was probably walking for miles alone with the state she was in when you boys found her. We gave her the night to rest." He said. Stiles turned back to his father, who was beginning to walk down the hallway. "Where's Melissa, then?" he asked. "She asked for her to stay."

Stiles walked along with long, boustrous strides to catch up with his father. His exasperation was palpable in his tone of voice when he asked, "Why?"

"I don't know. And it's none of your business." Mr. Stilinski said in a firm tone that said he knew Stiles was up to no good poking around where he didn't belong (this was a common tone used in regards to Stiles).

"Leave the poor thing alone to get some rest. And leave the investigation to us." Mr. Stilinski added. "Investigation?" Stiles asked with piqued interest. "Into who she is. She can't remember her family, or the year she was born. She has no clue where she's from or how she woke up on a stump in the middle of the woods."

"A stump?" Stiles asked. Sitles faltered in mental scrutiny. "Know anything about that?" Mr. Stilinski asked, knowing his son's antics in the woods.

"No." Stiles said, and he was telling the truth. He'd never seen a stump in the woods. And Stiles had certainly seen a lot of the woods of Beacon Hills. A memory struck him. "Dad. She's probably from Beacon Hills."

"And what makes you think that, other than the fact that she was roaming around the woods at night?" "She knew your name before I told her. It's probably like muscle memory or something, you know?"

"I've never met her." Mr. Stilinski said, as if Stiles was being absurd.

"You're the Sheriff, dad. She probably just remembers your name from the news or something."

"Right... Maybe that means she can regain her memory back eventually...," said the Sheriff trailing off in thought. There was a long stretch of silence between them, and the Sheriff stopped and looked at his son.

"Hey. Don't you have school tomorrow? You should be in bed right now."

Stiles grimaced at his father's recollection. "I was worried." Stiles admitted.

"How many times have I told you that you don't have to worry about me?"

"I wasn't worried about you."

"Oh, about the girl you almost ran over?" Stiles rolled his head back in annoyance. "It was an accident. And I didn't hit her!"

--

Melissa rushed out of Rhiannon's hospital room and the door slammed shut behind her. The hallway was bustling with people and sirens sounded from outside. Rhiannon watched from her bed as an emergency sucked Ms. McCall into action.

Before Rhi could even get a word out edgewise about getting help, a code had sounded and the bustle of an imminent emergency tore Mrs. McCall away. Her mind was buzzing, and all she wanted to do was sleep, but Rhiannon stood with the IV stand in hand and walked over to the hallway window. She used her finger to peak out through the blinds at the scene. She'd looked out just in time to watch as two stretchers were rushed down the hall. Melissa was speaking to someone-- who Rhiannon immediately recognized through the bustle as a bloody, disoriented Isaac Lahey. Right behind them, a dark skinned girl bleeding profusely exclaimed in pain. Braeden. They were both blurs as they approached Rhiannon's room.

Rhiannon retreated instantly. The blinds snapped back into place and she stumbled back to sit on the edge of the hospital bed as the crowd passed, screams of pain and medical orders sounding with it. Rhiannon's mind raced.

Blood, sweat, and pain lingered in the hallway. She recalled this moment. It was from the first episode of the third season. Rhiannon thought she was going to be sick. And then, she was. Right there on the linoleum floor, she vomited. The chaos in the hall was too loud for anyone to hear. Rhiannon rushed to the sink as fast she could with an IV drip in tow. She vomited again into the sink. After a few moments of retching and swallowing her own flem and spit, Rhiannon leaned back against the wall of the bathroom. She looked up at the ceiling with tears streaming down her face and a ragged breath.

Rhiannon wasn't cut out for this.

The pain was too real to be a dream.

It was too intricate to be a prank.

A television flashed before her mind. Static screen. A humming voice.

She shot up and made eye contact with her reflection. The TV had been acting strange, and she'd touched it. And woke up here. Rhiannon played with the possibility of the impossible. I mean, sure, she'd daydreamed about falling into the worlds of her favorite books or movies or shows. But those were just daydreams. Wild fantasies to distract from her daily life. They weren't real.

Something surfaced in her mind. A tunnel. Like sliding down a glowing water slide face first into a bright white light. Rhiannon gasped. Finally, she played with the idea. The idea that: What if this was real? What if somehow, by some sick crazy miracle, she had fallen into the world of her favorite TV show. She stepped out of the bathroom and peaked out. The hallway was beginning to calm down. She whirled back. Her mind seemed to turn on, now. Like a bulb that had been on dim turned all the way up. Every possibility shot within her brain, back and forth. If this was real, and she was really inside Teen Wolf, then she was doomed. The dread that struck her felt like a blow to the stomach.

She whispered the horrific reality aloud, "I'm gonna die."

===

NOTES: Thanks for reading! Any questions or recommendations? Feel free to ask! As I finish more chapters I'll link the chapters all together and make a masterlist. I'm also thinking of including a playlist with my inspo for the story/characters on the masterist for those interested. This chapter was kind of slow but it'll be paced similarly to the show with some gaps and changes in plot.

PART TWO

[slut4thebroken]

Dylan O’Brien + characters tumblr fic recs

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Smut - no emoji

No smut - 🚫

Fluff - ✨

Angst - 🖤

Dark content - ❗️(noncon elements)

Personal favorites - 💕

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

my masterlist

tumblr fic rec masterlist

Updated: 8/4/23

༺˚ʚ Dylan O’Brien ɞ˚༻

VIP Package - Drummer!Dylan O’Brien

Dylan O’Brien x female reader

༺˚ʚ Void ɞ˚༻

remember me (Void) ❗️

Let me help you (Void)

༺˚ʚ Stiles Stilinski ɞ˚༻

Camping (Stiles)

༺˚ʚ Mitch Rapp & Colin (not okay) ɞ˚༻

If anyone can find tiny baby & big brother by ahsstilinski pls tag me😭 I think they deactivated & I really liked those

[syr-monthly]

SterekYrRound's Balance Event

Main Event - After Dark Day

Our second story of the day brings us a dark love story that shows us that not all monsters are bad until you take the one they love.

Prompt: "Void Stiles & Feral Derek"

The Writer: @hedwig221b

The Fic: Full and Void

[tommysm0ondust]

hey teen wolf fanfic writers, PLEASE make more badass stiles fics. I need more. badass stiles but also with angst

also shocks me that I haven't seen ANY stiles centered fic use one of my fav stiles lines in the whole series from season 4 bc it has SO much potential

when he's tryna get Malia to stay human kinda he tells her Abt how he remembers everything he did when possessed but worst of all he remembers liking it because he felt POWERFUL? AND FEARLESS?? AND MOST OF ALL IN. CONTROL.

and then he says the best line which was

"But when I came through it, I learned something else... control is overrated"

LIKE??? WHY IS NO ONE FUCKING USING THAT???? ITS SUCH A COOL LINE.

anyways that's it done with my rant, I should go to sleep now💔

[biscuit-atmidnight]

i've just started reading Down By Contact by siand on AO3 and i'm going INSANE about it!!!!!

i've only read 1 chapter and i had to come here to scream about it. that chapter was perfection

[fallingrealms16]

Sterek Fic Recs PART1 <3

Sterek fics? Yes ofc, because I know we always need them to fill our sad little lonely souls..no just me? Buckle up because this is the list of all my favourite Sterek fics that have stolen my heart and live in my shower thoughts:

The Great Bi Awakening by HisBeloved

11.8K Words // Chapters: 34/? // Hits: 34K // UNCOMPLETED

//Explicit//

The Sterek social isolation quarantine room mates fic no one asked for, OR After Berkeley evicts the students because of coronavirus and Lydia breaks up with him, Stiles finds himself living with Derek Hale. Because they are almost best friends

2. We're caught in stone, you know we might not make it by LanaCanisLupus_22

29.7K Words // Chapters: 2/2 // Hits: 80K // COMPLETED

//Explicit//

The one where Derek and Stiles are childhood buddies who lost touch and reconnect by chance at college. Only they end up doing a lot more than just reconnecting.

3. I know that you love me, even when I lose my head by LanaCanisLupus_22

135.5K Words // Chapters: 13/13 // Hits: 464K // COMPLETED

//Explicit//

The one where Derek gets attacked by hunters, ends up with amnesia and forgets Stiles is his mate

4. Magic Words by Thomaddicted

188K Words // Chapters: 40/40 // Hits: 56K // COMPLETED

//Explicit//

Derek Hale is confused by Stiles Stilinski, or at least Derek's sexuality is confused. He knows that Stiles feels some kind of way toward him, but a discovery on Stiles' laptop leaves no question to HOW much Stiles likes him. This would be fine, if they weren't also fighting Big Bads, Bad Alphas, and age of consent laws. Add to it the pressures of learning magic, graduations, and a Sheriff for a potential father in law, things just aren't going to be easy. But they'll definitely be worth it.

5. Throw Me to the Wolves by skoosiepants

13.4K Words // Chapters: 1/1 // Hits: 165K // COMPLETED

//Teen and Up// He feels the physical embodiment of devastated, his already too strung-out mind struggling to wall up all the hurt, the rejection—he takes a deep shuddering breath and looks down at the shredded skin on his arms, at the sluggish way they’re weakly healing. There is nothing, nothing he wants more than to have Derek sweep in and make everything all better. He should have known, though, that something like that would never happen to him. OR - Stiles accidentally gets bitten, and everything goes to hell.

[cj-marj]

Somewhere out there is a fic that perfectly encapsulates an unhealthy, dependent relationship between Stiles and the Nogistune which will ultimately lead to a bad ending for someone (I don’t know who) and I will find it no matter what it takes.

[theemporium]

so i have this idea… 👀 3x22 eichen house stiles but instead of having sex with malia he has sex with reader?

this is short and rushed because honestly i had to stop myself from writing a whole ass fic for this but enjoy!🖤

.

“Chaos has come again.” 

Your lips twitched as you lifted your head to the sound of his voice. “Still going around saying that funny little riddle of yours?” 

His head tilted to the side. “Still think it is a riddle?” 

“You haven’t told me otherwise,” you countered, and he seemed to like that answer. “What brings you back to this shit hole?” 

You hadn’t seen him here in weeks. He was an enigma when he first arrived, seeming like a dark tortured soul. He was mysterious and he kept to himself and it intrigued you. After some time, something had switched inside him. It was like the shyness disappeared, and there was something different to him. A thrill that you couldn’t deny your attraction to.

Everybody else in Eichen House were just as fucked up as you, but something about him was…different.

A different kind of fucked up that was addictive. 

But then he left without a peep and you hadn’t heard a word about him in weeks. 

Until now. 

There he stood at the end of the couch, having somehow snuck into the building and make it all the way down to the basement—to you. And he was staring at you with a fire in those eyes, a dark, twisted fire that made something deep in your stomach twist. 

“I had some loose ends I wanted to…tie up,” his voice was rougher than you remembered, huskier too. “Some chaos of my own to attend to.”

The book on your lap you were previously reading was moved to the side, your full attention focused on the boy in front you as he made his way around the couch and closer to you. You watched as his dark eyes raked over your figure, the thin shirt and sweatpants was not an unusual sight at Eichen but the way he was looking at you made it feel like ten times the outfit it was.

“You’re gonna make a girl blush, Stiles,” you commented with a teasing tone to your voice. But the smile on your face faltered when his whole expression dropped. 

“Don’t call me that, dove,” he sneered between clenched teeth, leaning so close to the point his nose was brushing against yours. “Don’t use that name.”

Your breath hitched. “Then what should I call you?” 

“I have had many names over the years. Many names and titles but none of them should matter to you, dove,” he whispered against your lips, his fingers ghosting along your bare arms. “You can call me void tonight.” 

“Void?” you repeated. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, one hand cradling your jaw, his thumb ghosting the edge of your lips. “You’re gonna sound so pretty screaming it for me.” 

He was addictive. His words were addictive and his touches were addictive, and you knew he could have asked you for anything and you would have given it to him. 

The clothes were shed in a blur of motions, laying abandoned on the cold concrete floor of the basement without another care in the world. And Void was everywhere: his hands on your body and his lips on your own, his cock thick and hard pressing against your thigh. 

“I knew you’d be so good for me, dove, knew from the first time I saw you,” he whispered as his hands dipped between your legs, your cunt soaking and needy—all for him. “You’re the only person in this fucking town that could ever be good enough for me.” 

“Void,” you panted as your hands gripped his shoulders, his body hot and warm against yours. “I-I…I’ve never…oh my god.” 

His eyes darkened, something like a smirk growing on his lips. “You’ve never done anything like this before?”

You shook your head. 

He let out a groan, low and heavenly, and it went straight down to your core. “Oh you, dove, you don’t even realise how perfect you are.” 

“Please,” you whispered, your eyes wide and glossy as you stared up at him. The couch was thin and uncomfortable and probably as old as the building itself, but you didn’t care. You just needed him in any way that he would give you it. “Please, Void, I need you.” 

Void was insatiable. He strived for chaos and pain and grief. He wanted to see the world burn down, for the supernatural wannabe heroes of Beacon Hills to go insane. He wanted it all. But he wanted nothing more in than to feel you come around his cock, to see you flustered and fucked out, to absolutely ruin you for anybody after him. 

Not that he was quite sure he wanted there to be anybody after him.

“Shh, baby,” he cooed as he gripped his cock, slow strokes and his thumb teasing his tip. “I’m gonna give you it, give you everything.” 

“Everything?” you whined helplessly. 

“Everything,” he murmured as he guided his cock to your entrance, eyes focused on your face as he slowly sank into you. “You can take it all, dove.”

He watched in blissed awe as your lips whispered his name like a mantra and your nails dug into his skin, a tear escaping the corner of your eye and fuck, he could have came right there. 

“Shit,” you whimpered as you tried to nuzzle your face into his shoulder. “Holy shit.” 

“Atta girl,” he groaned as he slowly pulled out before sinking back into you. “Taking me so good, taking everything I’m giving you.”

“Everything,” you nodded, biting down on your lower lip.

There was something different in his voice as he spoke. 

“That’s my girl, always by my side, yeah?” 

You nodded. 

“I always knew you were more than this shithole, dove.”

.

[hedwig221b]

The Balanced event by @sterekyrround has finished

Definitely go check out the fluff and the depravites my cumrades and I have written!

All of you are welcome to scream at me in the comments or in the ask box or anywhere. Imma be reeling from the response for about *checks the watch* 5 to 7 business days.

Thank you again @sterekyrround 💕💗💖 *kisses you gently on the forehead*

[teencopandthesourwolf]

FIAT LUX

written for @sterekdrabblesgonelong using the @sterekdrabbles 23/11/22 challenge words that were: PART, MATTER and SPOT with the end-of-month theme of HONESTY.

sterek fic, MATURE, 2245 words, post-nogitsune stiles, stiles stilinski has PTSD, heavy angst, imagined body horror, healing, getting together, falling in love, POV stiles.

READ IT HERE ON AO3

.

"Hey, you good?"

Somebody spoke. Stiles remembers that. He also remembers thinking, at the time, how it sounded a lot like Derek's voice.

He'd been right. Of fucking course he'd been right. 

Stiles was scrambling to process what had been said to him, alongside trying to figure out what exactly was happening to his still-wobbly sense of self.

"Stiles? Are you okay?" 

Stiles couldn't answer. Couldn't get any sounds out of his strangled throat, nor force his suddenly arid mouth to move and make the right shapes needed for words.

Everything was muddying all over again, his mind and body becoming a wasteland in a heartbeat. He was barren, a damned apocalypse. Truth be told, since his possession, Stiles was just an empty shell, only pretending to be human. And now his memories were flashing before his eyes, having once again become a trailer for his fucked-up, one-man indie zombie movie. Although—no, actually. No, that wasn't right. This wasn't a trailer. The Horrors were back in full, movie-length, and were now playing out their incredibly specific brand of Existential Dread right before Stiles' glassy eyes in all of their glorious, terrible technicolour.

Spawn of the Dead: Double Feature!

Grab yourself an extra large bucket of Salty'n'Sweet and settle in for the midnight showing.

How, though?

How the hell could the parasitic evil which they'd ended—it absolutely had gone, it had!—be so inexplicably here? Like, right here and now, delightedly wrapping one crooked hand around Stiles's stringy neck while using the other to dig into Stiles's already bent-way-out-of-shape psyche, sinking its dirty claws in all the way again until Stiles couldn't think or see straight or even speak.

How could the thing they'd destroyed still have him so very firmly in its clutches?

In his peripheral there were now only blurred-out, bony digits where his fingers were supposed to be; Stiles couldn't stop the violent shaking as he looked down at his hands and felt bile rise in his throat that tasted of reams and reams of filthy bandages rapidly climbing his esophagus, in a far too-real scene from some disgusting, stop-animation nightmare.

onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten! 

Oh, fuck no. 

It was here. Even if it wasn't really; it was. Here, crippling each of his faculties, one by one with a sickening sort of ease, the ghost of it shutting down his capacity to process his surroundings, to operate his body correctly, to function as a human being, even if only a pretend one. It was too quickly obliterating his ability to just be.

To be Stiles.

Void.

Oh, God. 

No! No! No! No! No! No! No! 

Breath became cement in his lungs. 

onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten! 

Re-appeared and yet not, the spectral memory of the Nogitsune was once more burrowing its way beneath pale skin and fragile bone, digging a six-foot deep grave ready to bury Stiles's power to answer a simple question and say No, no, I'm not okay and I really need some help here, and so very easily quashing his in-vain attempts at doing anything at all about this runaway train of a shit-show situation.

Chaos.

He'd lost control again. 

This time it was aftermath. Or aftershocks. Or afterburn or afterbirth or some other after-metaphor for absolute guilt.

onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten! 

"Can you hear me, Stiles?"

Stiles wasn't really there anymore.

Stiles was spiralling, fast, due to that broken part of his soul ripping apart all over again and gaping open, a casm, a disgraced depiction of his abject shame for his past actions that now flowed out from the ghoulish wound like spilled wine. He looked down to see invisible gut-shot viscera tumbling out of him, staining his shirt and shoes like claret on crisp white sheets and instantly soaking into his skin and muscles and right through to the marrow of his bones, infiltrating his forever-infected anatomy in a strange sort of self-perpetuating vicious cycle. His heart, full of holes, was leaking its last vestiges of goodness, draining right out of him, his body now just a humanoid estuary. Other Stiles Juices added to the polluted mix—tears and adrenaline and cortisol, all becoming a veritable hurricane in his brain and chest and belly, swirling around viciously, dangerously—until it had drowned out his voice and drenched his autonomy in a chorus of non-existent Let me in! Until he'd lost his will completely to a bottomless whirlpool of contempt.

onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten! 

Oh, Void had truly left its mark. 

And so there he was. Just a stricken, hyperventilating five-foot-ten jagged fissure wearing his clothes and his face. A mask was all that was left of Mieczysław Stilinski: Stiles, just a stupid boy in the body of a not-quite man, who was suffocating in the mould and the rot of himself.

The intangible had brimmed over and drip-drip-dripped until it was gushing freely and spilling right out of him and onto the floor, becoming an epic tidal wave of oblivion that would splash and tarnish and permanently stain everything and everybody around Stiles, all that he loved. 

Again. 

Only this insanity wasn't invisible, not to him. It was a vivid Hieronymus Bosch knock-off. A never-ending bloodbath painted in brushstrokes of the richest of colours. Stiles was an oily waking nightmare, a moving tapestry of his own creation that was playing over and over and over on the glitched-out loop that was his faulty VHS mind.

onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten! 

"Don't step in it," he'd whispered. 

He doesn't remember if Derek had answered. He doesn't remember much of anything after that. 

Derek, just like everybody else, was poisoned by Stiles's toxicity. Forever marked, just as Stiles had been—because of Stiles.

Stiles, with his bony hands that hid those undetectable tattoos in blacks and blues and mauves that were the inky Rorschach contusions of all his loved one's cuts and bruises; Stiles, with his immortal pattern of dead leaves that twisted along the gnarled branches of his inner Lichtenberg tree; Stiles, with his fear-induced awful decisions that had lead to the lives of so many being taken; Stiles, with his murderous intent—borrowed or not, it made no fucking difference in the end; Stiles, with all of this horror; Stiles, with his blackened soul that was now only recognisable as death.

Yet, in stark contrast, his haemoglobin-bright red ravaged veins were very much not dead. He felt them, now, itching beneath the surface of his skin, unreal yet so real and becoming vine-like, pulsating and stretching out their long creepy creeper-fingers to reach down inside of him, clawing their way back home to the black hole that was his centre. And they were growing. He could feel them swelling in his arms and his legs and his face. Alive. Becoming stronger and stronger, they traversed alongside his nervous system like a road map, journeying through what was left of his tattered existence and getting so big and so fat they too were branches and were somehow both choking him and splitting him clean open—Stiles, roots and all—his thoughts and actions reduced to nothing more than a fractured glass pane in an already damaged photo frame which threatened to crack and turn him into thousands of thousand-year-old shards of nothing but absolute destruction.

onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten! 

Out, damned spot. 

Maybe Derek had said more words. Begged and pleaded for Stiles to talk to him, to make sense of things for him. For Stiles to tell him what the hell was going on.

onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten! 

onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten! 

onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnine—

ten? 

Or was it eleven, or twelve that time? 

Too late. 

Rip. Tear. Shatter. 

Stiles had collapsed under the weight of his own mistakes.

*

When something in his brain managed to press the pause button on the horror show, there was only numbness.

Nothing. 

Then remorse had once more seeped through his pores like a poisonous gas, a hazy mist of it eventually filling him and triumphing over delirium because, after some time—minutes, hours, days, maybe—Stiles was finally able to communicate again.

Well, sort of.

There were four words he had to offer.

"It's all my fault." 

And as he'd made frantic attempts to once again count his uncontrollably shaking fingers, he'd whimpered those words on repeat, for an indeterminate amount of time and in a thousand different voices, none of which sounded like his own.

"It's all my fault."

onetwothree—start again.

"It's all my fault."

onetwothreefourfivesixseven—shit.

"It's all my fault."

onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnine—

"Hey, I've got you."

Derek?

If he wasn't dreaming, it meant Derek hadn't left him. He should have. Stiles was to blame for so very many terrible, terrible things.

But Derek had stayed and minded him, regardless.

He took Stiles in, after that. Fed him. Forced him to wash. Watched him as closely as he ended up holding him, in a way that he shouldn't. In a way that nobody ever should because Stiles was a travesty. Undeserving. But Derek? Derek was good and so Derek did it anyway. And those big arms folding around Stiles broke Stiles all over again, broke him impossibly more. Only it was a different kind of break this time around. Maybe not gentle so much as it was firm and necessary. A resetting of bones.

Then, somehow, slowly, painfully, Derek helped to put Stiles back together again, which was nothing short of a Herculean feat.

That Humpty Dumpty Stiles, he'd spent weeks sobbing and going mute, sobbing and going mute, and sobbing and sobbing and shouting and shrieking and screaming the loft down, bringing his feral nightmares back to life and out into the open and into the here and now, into Derek's already too-difficult world.

Stiles was just a transparent bag of those reset bones. Fused with fear and sorrow and so much sin, glued up all wrong, and held together with tears and snot and guilt and shame—and an ancient, evil-tainted love; a love possessed. 

Until he wasn't. Until there were hints of a new kind of love shimmering around the edges of their lives. Something quiet. Something lighter.

A love made up of Stay here with me and Stay another night and consistently screaming into the dawn but never any pity nor judgement and whole days of silence and then communication via eyebrows and heartbroken Fuck Yous and last-minute notes left on the refrigerator door and second and third and fourth, fifth, sixth chances and just being there and Shut Ups with no real heat behind them and listening and listening and listening some more and sandwiches left untouched until there were sandwiches half-eaten and finally sandwiches scarfed down at the speed of light again and conversations with thumbs-up and thumbs-down and Don't Call Me Dude and comfortable silences and unexpected classical music afternoons and awfully bad puns and quality time spent alone together and Wanna watch the Discovery channel? and smiling eyes and crappy paper planes and precarious mountains of hot buttered toast and stolen borrowed too-big Henley's and thrifted old sci-fi novels and English to Latin dictionaries and games of PSYCH! from opposite sides of the same room and eyes being rolled into the backs of thick skulls and gallons and gallons of Dirty Chai Lattes and a far too-kind and outstandingly stubborn asshole's absolute forgiveness and furtively holding hands in the dark and weighted long looks that said I know, it's okay—I'm broken too and the silent question of Do you want me? and the tactile answer being Of course I do, you idiot. Of fucking course I do. 

It was a love that made Nogitsune love never, ever love. A real love that shook its head softly at such dreadful affection.

Werewolf trumps Demon, every damn time.

* 

Stiles might not be able to laugh—at least not properly, not yet. He's getting there, though. The quirk of his lips today is bigger than yesterday's meagre twitch. And who knows, tomorrow could even bring a grin. Stranger things, right? 

There's still pain. Stigma. Suffering. Still so, so much work to do. Only now it's manageable. A touch easier.

Derek's touch.

There are many more hard days and nights to come, Stiles knows that, but he is nothing if not single-minded and he's making steady progress. Every day, he's mending. Thanks to Derek and Stiles's determination, the fissure that he'd become is closing up and he is no longer infected with quite so much self-doubt. There's scar tissue, sure. How could there not be?

But Stiles is healing.

He's being replenished and renewed, little by little, bit by bit, and at long last he's finally finding his voice again. The right tone, a familiar pitch—and it's strongest in those times he utters a particular word. It's a name, actually, so often spoken as a mantra, or mouthed delicately like a prayer.

"Derek?" 

Of fucking course. 

"I'm here."

No more counting fingers. 

As it happens, Stiles Stilinski is finding his way back to his life and to himself with the help of Derek Hale, sometimes stumbling and yes, often having to crawl from the oppressive blackness, dragging himself through it using only his non-existent fingernails and stubborn will, barely making it out alive by the skin of his teeth.

Yet he knows, now, that he'll conquer that darkness. Because he's not alone anymore. There's help at hand, in his hand, where Stiles holds a candle that burns just as brightly as the Sun, the Moon and the Truth, and won't ever blow out—not while shielded by the shape of the 'wolf.

Fiat Lux. 

Let there be light.

[babeyvenus]

My Future

Derek Hale x OC

Samantha, Stiles and Scott are always joking about the impossible. Who wouldn't when your best friend's dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills? All jokes stop when they realize the impossible is indeed possible.

Chapter 30: Riddles and Possessions

Stiles had woken up and Melissa scolded Sam for staying overnight while also giving her something to increase her energy.

Now, they, Scott, Stiles, Melissa, the sheriff and Sam were standing in an MRI room. Sam stood beside Stiles, the two having their pinkies linked like they used to when they were younger.

Sam wasn't listening but Melissa and the Sheriff listened to some doctor talk about what was what.

"Want me to get you a blanket or something?", Sam whispered to Stiles. Goosebumps were rising on his arms.

"I'm fine.", he shook his head, not making eye contact with her as he picked at his hospital gown. Sam nodded.

"Stiles," the doctor turned to them, "just to warn you, you're going to hear a lot of noise during the MRI. It's due to pulses of electricity going through the metal coils inside the machine. If you want we can get you some earplugs or headphones…" The doctor offered.

"Uh, no. No, I don't need anything.", Stiles' lips quirked.

"Hey, we're just on the other side of that window. Okay?", Sheriff reassured his son.

"Okay.", Stiles nodded. Sheriff plastered a smile on his lips before walking out with Melissa and the doctor.

None of them said anything.

"You know what they're looking for, right?", Stiles finally spoke up. His voice sounded so empty as Scott and Sam looked at him. "It's called frontal-temporal dementia. Areas of your brain start to shrink. It's what my mother had. It's the only form of dementia that can hit teenagers. And there's no cure."

"We can find a way.", Sam says, determined. They looked at her with sad looks.

"Stiles, if you have it, we'll do something.", Scott sniffled as he looked at his best friend with watery eyes. "I'll do something."

Stiles swallowed and pulled the two of his friends in for a tight hug. Sam tried her best to keep in anymore oncoming tears. Hard to do since Stiles wasn't always the first to initiate hugs like his life was on the line.

They held each other for a while before they let go, so he could finish his test. Scott walked back, brushing his eyes.

Sam backed away from Stiles. "We'll be right outside. We'll see you in an hour, yeah?" He nodded and she gave him the best smile she could as she walked out to the waiting room. 

As she leaned her back on the wall, she let out a shaky sigh. How could she have not known? He was dying this entire time?

"You can't keep taking the world on your shoulders for us, y'know.", she heard Scott say.

"And what am I supposed to do, Scott? You guys are my everything.", Sam croaked as she looked back at the door. "We're doing all this saving and this entire time, he was already dying. We weren't saving him.", she rubbed her wet cheek against her shoulder.

"That's not on you. Nor is it on him.", Scott said, pulling her toward him. Her  forehead hit his chest.

"I don't wanna lose him, Scott. He almost lost us.", Sam whimpered. 

"We won't. I'll do whatever it takes to save him.", Scott shakily declared.

"Me too.", Sam says and wipes her eyes. "I just don't want him to see me down.", she told him and walked back inside to see the doctor's monitor.

Melissa stood by her and rubbed her back, comfortably.

Stiles laid in the scanner uncomfortably until he squeezed his eyes shut, only opening them to find himself outside the scanner. 

"Have you figured out my riddle yet?" a voice says, belonging to the figure with the bandages wrapped around his face.

Stiles quickly walks around the table, following the figure.

"If you answer correctly, we might consider letting them go." The wrapped face told Stiles over the other side of the table.

"Letting who go?", Stiles shakily asks.

"Your friends. Your family.", the creep tells Stiles, looking towards three figures behind the glass window, seeing his dad, Mrs. McCall and Sam all with worried looks on their faces.

"Everyone, whoever meant something to you. We're going to destroy all of them, Stiles. One-by-one."

"W-why?", Stiles whimpers, tears falling down his cheeks.

"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it?", the figure asks harshly, turning around to face Stiles who trembled in place.

"I don't know.", Stiles sobs.

He asks Stiles the same question again and again but Stiles replies, unsure of the answer. The voice raises, making Stiles turn his head away from the Nogitsune.

His hands shoot up to his head and he presses them against his ears, tears spilling out of his eyes.

As he flinched from the shouting, the apparition started to unwrap the bandages off his head. Layers and layers of cloth drop to the floor and form a wrinkled, dirty pile at his feet. 

"What is it!?", the creep shouts, making Stiles flinch.

"I don't know!", Stiles shouts loudly, his hands covering his ears and his lips are quivered as he looks at Sam who looked at his physically laid body, worriedly and unaware. 

"What is it, Stiles?", the voice whispers.

Stiles' eyes widened as he lowered his hands from his ears and whispered back to the voice in realization. "A shadow."

From behind Stiles, the creep finally takes the one bandage untied from around his head. His hand gently unwraps the last cloth from him to reveal Stiles' face. Stiles turns around to see another version of himself.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

The lights suddenly shut down, making Sam instantly defensive. Something's off. A sudden blackout?? It was too convenient for anything to happen.

Something's really off. The moment the lights turn back on, she looks over to see that Stiles is once again gone.

She rushed out just before anyone could ask. "Stiles!", she yelled, running down the halls. "Scott!!", she screamed, feeling her eyes water with tears again.

She didn't find Scott anywhere, so her best bet was to look outside. Before she could, she saw Isaac being rushed on a gurney surrounded by doctors that helped him into a room.

Everything felt like it was going slow motion for her. She didn't even notice Scott and Derek running up to her but felt them grab onto her.

From then on, the past two days seemed to go by like a blur. Stiles was still missing.

She obsessively continued to text him but got no replies.

Her mom felt bad for her, but Sam was taking too many tardies and absences. She had to go to school.

She avoided Scott and Lydia, even the twins and Kira. Isaac was still in the hospital so going all day without them seemed to drag on the day even longer.

After passing periods, she felt her phone vibrate and saw Scott's name as she pulled out her phone to see his text.

Basement. ASAP. HURRY!

She sighed as she rushed to the basement. Once she got in, she heard Aiden finishing his sneer only to pause at a familiar voice.

Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she swallowed. All eyes were on her as she rushed to her best friend, pulling him into a hug which he returned. "You're an ass.", she mumbled.

He patted her back as they let go. He could only give her a weak smile. Weak, but welcomed, nonetheless.

Stiles brought her over and sat across the room, pointing at paper.

"You see this? It's a blueprint of the hospital's electrical wiring. You see all the markings in red? That's my handwriting.", he said as she and the other boys knelt down to look at the paper.

He took multiple blueprints out of a duffle bag. "I know I did this. I know I caused the accident. Everything in this bag; it's all part of something bigger." Aiden reached into the duffle bag and grabbed out a hand saw.

"What the hell have you been up to?", he asked Stiles.

"I think something worse.", Stiles admitted, shaking his head, "a lot worse."

Sam picked up the bag, which was unexpectedly heavy, and dragged it over to a table. She looked into it with wide eyes, beginning to take rolls of duct tape, heaps of rope, chains, and blueprints out.

"What the hell were you doing, building a terminator?", Ethan asked.

"Thank you for that." Stiles said with the roll of his eyes. Sam decided to open one of the blueprints to see what else the other Stiles was planning.

"This isn't a blueprint.", she muttered. 

"This is a map.", Scott realized.

"Isn't this the lacrosse trail?", Ethan asked, pointing his finger to a bold black line that winded around the woods.

"And that's the Tate car—where Malia Tate's family died.", Scott mumbled.

"I mean that's where her father put the steel jaw traps.", Stiles pointed to an area close to Lookout Point.

"You were putting traps on the Lacrosse trail?", Sam asked.

"For who though?", Scott asked before picking up his buzzing phone from the table. "What, dad?" He paused. "Wait…what? Why? Okay, fine. Bye." He hung up looking frazzled.

"What now?", Sam asked, rolling her eyes. Scott had been trying to avoid his dad recently.

Scott looked at her. "He actually needs you." Her eyebrows raised. "The hell does he need me for? He doesn't like me."

"He said he needed to question you about Stiles.", he sighed. Sam looked over at Stiles with furrowed eyebrows.

"They still think you're missing?", Sam whispered.

"I'll talk to my dad." Stiles turned to her. "Don't tell him anything, please."

Sam nodded her head. "Yeah. Call me if you find anything on the trail, please. And stay together even if you can't. I don't care, find a way.", she said, pointing at all of them before leaving.

She headed off to the station and sighed as she walked through. She paused, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion as she saw Derek and Chris Argent handcuffed to a bench outside the sheriff's office.

"What the hell are you doing here?", she rushed over to them.

Derek looked at her, confused, ready to get up but forgot he was handcuffed. Chris' eyes were filled with worry. "What are you doing here?", Chris asked her.

Before she could reply, she frowned as she saw Agent McCall. "Samantha." He curtly nodded.

"Can we please get this over with? I still have classes.", Sam says, raising her eyebrows, crossing her arms.

"Do you recognize this?" McCall took a few steps towards her, holding up the plastic bag. A gun was inside it.

"That is a gun.", she nodded. "Why're you showing me that, exactly?"

McCall sighed before smiling. "Samantha Wilson, you're under arrest for suspicion of murder of the Japanese Yakuza."

"Excuse me?", she squeaked before feeling herself getting handcuffed. "What the hell!?", she screamed at the older McCall in his face.

The officer began giving her the usual right spiel. "You don't have to tell me that, because I didn't do anything!", she shouted.

"You don't know anything about the murder of the old Yakuza?", McCall asked her with a smirk.

"Uh, no. I've been too busy worrying about your son and my missing best friend!", she yelled.

McCall frowned. "Room six." He nodded to the officer who began dragging her to said room.

"You didn't even mention this to Scott, huh? Smart move, agent dickhead!", she yelled, before being shoved into a small, dark room and handcuffed to a table.

She growled to herself as her leg bounced. How did she get wrapped up in Yakuza business? She didn't even know the Yakuza would be in Beacon Hills, much less California. Maybe Florida! Florida was a good place for that type of crap.

The doorknob slowly turned and in came Agent McCall, a smug expression plastered on his face as he sat down across from Sam with a tape recorder. She rolled her eyes. He plopped a manila folder that contained her life files onto the metal table.

"Are you really gonna question me about Stiles?", she asked as McCall pressed buttons on his small recorder.

"That'll be saved for later. We just needed to get you down here.", he said, staring back at her.

"And this was the best way?", she asked.

"That's besides the point. Before we waste our time with questioning, do you have anything you'd like to admit?"

"I admit that I wanted to stay in bed all day, but that's about it.", she says, dully.

"Where were you two nights ago?", he asked. She frowned in confusion. "In the hospital. You were there."

"Later that night, Melissa said you never went home. Why not?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I remember that. She scolded me the next morning because I stayed at the hospital all night. You actually think that I, being me," she gestured to herself. "Could kill some old Yakuza leader?"

"There's nothing to think about. All I know is that we got a call tipping us off that you were the one who pulled the trigger.", he said. Her head tilted in confusion. 

"Who called in that?"

"It was an anonymous caller. Had to have been one of the mafia members.", he shrugged. 

"Do you even have solid evidence that I even held that gun, much less actually met up with the Yakuza?? Why the hell are Derek and Chris here?", she asked.

"We found the Yakuza's briefcase with a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in Mr. Argent's apartment, along with Mr. Hale looking over it.", he informed and her eyes widened. 

"Someone set us up.", she whispered.

"Repeat that?"

"Someone set us up.", she repeated in realization. "We didn't do this."

"Why do you not have an alibi for where you were that night?"

"McCall, I was literally distraught that I had almost lost my best friend as he bled out in the freezing cold. I just told you your own wife scolded me for not leaving the hospital. I stayed right outside Stiles' room and didn't leave until it was time for his tests. You can check the cameras.", she fussed. "I didn't do this and neither did Derek or Chris."

McCall nodded before getting out of his chair leaving the room. A different officer walked in, undid her handcuffs, and led her to the bench Derek and Chris were sitting at.

She frowned as she was forced next to Derek and handcuffed once again.

"I hate the cops.", she rolled her eyes. "They think I killed some Yakuza leader.", she said.

Derek nodded. "You were right, we were set up."

"Would you have any idea why Stiles would frame us for murder?", Chris asked her. 

Her eyes widened. "Stiles?"

"The thing inside Stiles.", he corrected. She looked back and forth between Chris and Derek in confusion before realizing what they were talking about. "The Nogitsune?", she gravely asked.

Chris nodded. "It's a powerful dark spirit. It feeds off of chaos, strife and pain.", Chris informed. Her eyebrows furrowed. It sounded a lot like Eris. Though, Eris didn't need to possess anyone to cause and feed off of chaos. She did that all by herself. 

"It was that thing those Oni were looking for.", Derek reminded her. She looked down. "The Nogitsune was planning something this entire time. That's why Stiles went missing."

"How do you know that?", Derek asked her. She swallowed. "Stiles was in the school basement just now. He had a duffle bag with blueprints and all these different supplies. Scott and the twins are on the cross-country trail. He planted something in there for someone."

Her eyes widened as she remembered the blueprints. She looked around, frantically. "He planted something here too. But where is it and what is it?"

"Relax, I haven't heard anything yet.", Derek reassured and she looked at him worriedly.

A half hour went by, and Sam looked up at the ceiling. Why did the Nogitsune frame them? Did he– or it have something against the Japanese mafia?

And since it's a spirit, it needed someone to blame?

"I could easily get out of these, you know.", Derek said, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"So could I.", Chris replied.

"Well, I cannot, so shut up.", Sam growled at the men.

"I'm not interested in being a fugitive from the law.", Chris said to Derek.

"Yeah, well, I'm not interested in being a victim to a seventeen year old possessed by a psychotic fox."

"Just give me a few more minutes.", Chris pleaded. Derek ignored him, beginning to tug on the metal. "Derek!", Chris growled.

"Fine. But if something happens, don't expect me to risk my life to save yours.", Derek hissed at the older man.

"Cut it out. For once, be allies. We're both stuck here!", Sam snapped at the men on her left. Only twenty minutes passed and suddenly, the police station turned into pure chaos after a phone call came into the front desk. Every officer in the building was running around in horror.

"What in the hell is going on?", Sam asked, watching every officer run around.

Derek's eyes darted around as an officer came over to the bench and undid Chris' handcuffs.

"What's happening?", Chris asked, alerted. The officer didn't answer but instead moved onto Derek and Sam. 

"What's happening?", Chris asked Derek, whose head was tilted as he listened and looked behind them in the sheriff's office.

His eyes widened as he looked at Chris and Sam. "Get down!", Derek screamed. He pushed the officer out of the way and wrapped his hands around two on each side of him, shoving them to the floor. Sam squeezed her eyes shut as she covered her face from the exploded debris.

She felt exhausted before she could uncover her face and fell unconscious.

She opened her eyes to loud yells and a darkened setting. How long was she out…?

She winced as she felt her arm tingling with pain. She lifted it to see a glass shard sticking out of her arm.

"Fuck…", she whispered and noticed Chris Argent trying to keep Derek awake.

She spotted Scott and Stiles, immediately turning over so she could get up.

She looked at Stiles, specifically, as they ran up to her. She could sense it now. The spirit that rested inside her best friend. Their eyes met, his darkened, empty ones to her confused, dazed orbs.

The Nogitsune.

Scott and Kira ran out with Stiles and she felt weak all over again. The Nogitsune was awake, taking over Stiles right as they left.

She felt dizzy, the ringing in her ears getting louder and louder before her eyes closed once more.

"Sam."

Sam's eyes opened as she heard Stiles' voice. She was back in the darkness. At least it wasn't freezing. Was this what he was seeing?

"Stiles?", Sam whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.", she heard him cry.

"Stiles, where are you? Where did the Nogitsune take you?", Sam asked.

Silence.

"Stiles.", she called. No answer. She felt herself growing more and more upset. Upset at herself for even leaving Stiles with Scott and Kira. Upset at herself for leaving in the first place.

She covered her eyes as a bright light shone on top of her and filled the area. She looked around, now aware of where she was.

She realized she was back in the same clean, white room from before. No one was here, though.

Sam frowned as she looked around and started walking. "Y'know… you're smarter than you look.", she heard behind her. It sounded like Stiles.

Sam turned around to see him. But…

"What?", Sam asked. The apparition of Stiles rolled his eyes. "You caught on to me. Why didn't you say anything?", he smirked.

She glowered at him. "What did you do to Stiles?"

He smiled. "What do you mean? I am Stiles and he is me." She shook her head. "No, you're a possession. What're you trying to do!?"

He frowned as he began to circle her. "I just wanna cause a little… chaos. A little fun, here and there. I'm a trickster. Is that so wrong?"

"Uh, setting up bombs, causing distress to people for your own selfish gains, killing and framing people? Yeah, that's wrong.", Sam says. "Now you got me here. What do you want from me?"

He stopped and smirked. "I need you. Stiles is a perfect host. He's, what you might call, two faced. Always keeping up a smile, but behind closed doors, he's a wreck." Sam frowned as she looked away.

He's been keeping stuff to himself… It's no wonder why he told her all those things. He felt left behind…

The apparition cooed. "You didn't even know? Such a shame."

Sam huffed. "Why do you need me?", she grounded out.

He hummed, walking up to her. "You're…my trump card. I could've easily gone for any of those mongrels, but they wouldn't have been enough. I can't be both a werewolf and a fox. However, they are powerful, but they have plenty to lose, which makes them practically useless. You and Stiles, however, not so much.", he said and circled her once again.

"At least with Stiles, he feels as if he needs to protect everyone with needless tactics. You, on the other hand, you protect without thinking. You're, what we call, ningen no tate. A human shield. All you have left is your friends and your dear mother, but after that, what else is there?", he asked, widely grinning. "You two are driven by your negative emotions and the constant need to survive while the others are driven by the confidence, determination in the powers of their own. Sad."

Sam looks down at her feet as he continues.

"Your powers are boosted by the night and shadows which are almost too perfect to lose. I need that.", he says and suddenly grabs her face, forcing her to look into his dark eyes. "I need you."

He smiled. "I'll give you a day. A day to think about it. If you don't give in, you lose what you have left. If you do, I'll consider leaving everyone alone.", he said and released her face.

Sam shut her eyes before waking up in her room. She calmed her beating heart down and rushed for her phone.

Multiple notifications were on the screen as she looked at them.

Scott's texts were panicked, Lydia's was too. She didn't get anything from Stiles. She didn't need to. She already knew.

She looked at the text from Derek and frowned.

Brought you home. Treated you myself. I'll be back.

She looked at her wrapped arm and sighed. She didn't feel any stitches which was a good thing.

Sam called Scott and in no time, he answered. "Hey, you okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." He let out a sigh of relief. "Stiles… the Nogitsune….He's out cold and Stiles checked himself in the Eichen institution.", he told her. Her eyes widened.

"What?", Sam asked. "He checked himself in.", he repeated. Sam got up, "No, Scott! That's a bad idea."

"How? He's not gonna hurt anyone.", Scott replies. She ran her fingers through her coils. "Stiles may not hurt anyone, but the Nogitsune could. He's already thought this through. He's gonna make it worse for Stiles."

Scott went silent for a bit. "How do you know that?", he suddenly asked. Sam bit her lip. Sam only has a day to come up with this plan. And fast.

"We need to talk. You and me. If you can get Kira on this, it'd probably be good too.", Sam said and he agreed.

They met up at school and went into the basement.

"Okay, what the hell happened?", he asked. Sam frowned. "The Nogitsune wants me.", Sam says and watched his eyes widened as he shook his head.

"No. No.", he said and Sam's shoulders slumped. "I have a plan.", she says but he cuts her off. "I don't care what your plan is, we have an actual plan right here." He pulls out a small scroll.

"This, this is what's gonna stop the Nogitsune.", he said and looked at her with pleading eyes. "Please don't tell me you're gonna let him."

"Scott, I only have a day. He's being lenient with me and I doubt he's doing it with Stiles. This is why I called. He wants me as his trump card, but I'm not letting him have me that easily.", Sam says.

His jaw clenched as he shook his head. Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, haven't our plans almost always worked? This one will. I promise.", Sam says, trying to ease his tension.

He looked at her with glossy eyes. "This can't keep happening."

Sam gave him a sad smile. "I know, but I'm doing it for Stiles. I'm doing it for all of us. We all have to be safe. I'm gonna make sure of that."

He reluctantly nodded and she told him her plan after he had told her what the scroll was for.

It was perfect. She'd make the Nogitsune think he'll have the power to control Stiles and Sam, while Scott changes the Nogitsune.

This had to work.

Later on, Allison had informed Sam that Stiles was now in Derek's loft and she rushed straight there.

"You want to handcuff me?", Sam hears Stiles say as she walked up. 

"If my son is still here, if there is still a part of him standing here in front of me, then he'll put these on willingly and he'll come with me because he knows I'm here to protect him from himself and from others.", she hears Sheriff Stillinski say.

Allison, Chris, and Derek showed up and they heard the sound of handcuffs being tightened.

"You're not my son.", they heard the Sheriff mutter and the sound of handcuffs breaking and clattering on the floor.

They all walked in and heard Stiles scoff and laugh.

As they circled Stiles, Allison raised a taser and shot it at Stiles but he caught the wires, glaring at her. It did nothing as he ripped it from her hands and threw it to the side.

Derek growled and bared his fangs, rushing at Stiles but Stiles caught his arm and twisted it back. The sound of a sickening crack filled Sam's ears as Stiles hit Derek's head on a table and threw him up against a pillar.

"Stiles, stop!", Sam yelled, holding out her hand, pausing the boy in his place. He looked at her with an empty, but smug look. "Aw… worried about your boyfriend? Did you forget what I told you?", he raised an eyebrow.

Before she could reply, the sound of a gun cock made everyone look up at Argent as he pointed a gun at Stiles. Sam's eyes widened as did Stiles' eyebrows raised in challenge.

Sam immediately stepped in front of Stiles. The Nogitsune may have taken control, but once he's gone… 

"Argent, listen to me, don't do this.", the Sheriff said, holding up a hand as Sam glared at the man holding the gun.

"Why not? I've done it before. Werewolves, berserkers, I can easily add a nogitsune to the list.", Chris said, making Sam growl at him in warning. "Sam.", Argent warned, his determined expression faltering just a bit.

Suddenly the Sheriff then pointed a gun at Argent. "You're not going to shoot my son."

"You said it yourself, Sheriff. That's not your son."

"Put it down. Put it down.", Sheriff ordered.

"Dad, he's going to shoot me.", she hears Stiles' voice crack. "He's going to kill me, dad." Sam turned to him. "Stop!", she fussed.

"Don't listen.", Argent countered.

"Put it down." the Sheriff said again after looking at Stiles. "NOW, DO IT, PUT IT DOWN!" The tension made Sam falter her hold, causing Stiles to smile and grab Sam, twisting her arm behind her back.

"Now you'll have a hybrid and a Nogitsune on your list. Pull the trigger.", Stiles suddenly said, and Argent's hardened expression faltered, taken aback that he would say that.

"Stiles, stop it!", Sam yelled. He looked at her with a smirk before turning back to older men. Sam looked outside to see night pouring in once more as tension rose. He's doing it again. This fuels him. 

"LISTEN TO ME, YOU PUT THE GUN DOWN NOW!", Sheriff Stilinski yelled at Argent. 

"SHOOT ME!", Stiles yelled, telling Argent to shoot him and the Sheriff repeatedly telling Argent to put the gun down. Derek looked at the windows then at Sam as the room filled in with darkness.

"You gave him exactly what he wanted!", Sam shouted as they stopped. Stiles looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Not exactly. I was kind of hoping Scott would be here but I'm glad you all have your guns out because you're not here to kill me."

He turned around, pulling her away from the large window. "You're here to protect me."

He ran out of the loft and Sam followed him, only to see that he had disappeared again. She sighed in disappointment, going back inside the loft.

Derek winced, taking off his shirt as the sheriff and Argent discussed.

She walked over to Derek, seeing a large gash on his back.

"I'm sorry...", Sam shamefully apologizes, not meeting his eyes. He sighed. "This isn't your fault. We just gotta find another way to deal with this."

Yeah, but... If Stiles was this powerful, even with the Nogitsune, what could they even make of that?

Allison had gotten a text from Lydia, saying that she and Aiden found Stiles passed out and took him somewhere safe.

She sighed in relief. He wasn't dead at least.

The next day, Scott had given Derek Stiles' chessboard that had their names on it. Some names were knocked from the board and had black strips which worried them.

What the hell did that mean? 

"What are you doing?", Peter asked as he walked in, moving over to the table that Derek was standing at. He frowned at the huge gash that crossed Derek's shoulder and shoulder blade.

It hadn't healed yet. It worried Sam greatly. Derek had already explained that he got cut by one of the Onis swords but he didn't think it was too bad since he's had so much worse. 

Derek noticed their staring and frowned. "It's from one of their swords. It'll heal," Derek muttered, not looking away from confusing chessboard in front of him.

"It's been hours, though?", she says, concerned.

Derek looked at her, giving her a reassuring look. "I'll be fine."

Peter looked at her knowingly and walked over to her. "So, what all do you know, Samantha?"

She looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Peter frowned. "I mean, what all did Stiles tell you? He didn't give you any plans, any clues?"

Sam looked down at her lap. She couldn't tell them the plan. It was too risky. If something were to happen to either of them, she wouldn't know what to do.

"He's been making plans, but I wasn't around long to see. I got arrested the other day.", she told him. His eyebrows raise just a bit. "That part's true. I was there.", Derek says.

Peter seemed to be pleased with the answer for now. 

"So you're playing chess?", Peter asked as he walked over to his nephew.

"Back in his room, Stiles had a board with my name on one of the pieces. Sam's too, and her piece was closer to his. If this is a game to him, then I need to figure out the plays.", Derek says. 

"Not so easy to do when it's a game without rules.", Peter said.

Derek looked up at his uncle. "What does that mean?"

"You're dealing with the kind of spirit that's lived too long to play by human rules. It's a fox spirit that chose to become human — and supposedly, that's something they can do only after about one hundred years. If a Kitsune is an annoying pain-in-the-ass, then a Nogitsune, which is a dark Kitsune, is a freaking disaster. Besides, chess is Stiles' game. It's not the game of a Japanese Fox.", Peter muttered. 

Peter grabbed his jacket, ready to leave as he glanced at Sam who sat on Derek's bed with a sullen look on her face. He knows something happened with her and the Nogitsune.

She didn't say what, but he knew. It frustrated him to think that she may be keeping vital information from them at such a time like this.

Maybe the Nogitsune had gotten to her... He dreaded the thought of it. 

"Do yourself a favor and put something on that," Peter warned, heading to the door, "before it gets infected."

Derek frowned at his uncle who left and rolled his eyes before complying. All three of them missed the dark fly that entered Derek's wound. He went to go and find a first aid kit and looked over at Sam who didn't meet his eyes.

He frowned softly. He didn't like this. He didn't like to see her in such a sullen way. It wasn't like her. With everything going on, especially with Stiles, he understood her feelings. Slowly losing a friend. She was grieving. She was worried. Scared. Scared she was gonna lose someone close to her.

Stiles and Sam behaved like brothers and sisters. A way Derek remembered him, and Laura behaved with each other.

He remembers getting on Laura's nerves here and there, her hugs, their talks... Everything. Everything before the fire. And now he was witnessing it right in front of him. A repeat of a loss.

He looked at the kit in his hands before he walked up to Sam who didn't look up until he stood before her. He gave her a light smile. "You wanna help me with this?"

She returned the smile. "Okay.", she says, holding her hands out for the kit. He sat on the bed next to her and she got behind him, opening the kit as he took his shirt off.

She cleaned it up as best as she could, blowing lightly on the wound as he winces and let out a breath of his own when it got too much before she wrapped up his wound and gave it a light rub.

"You sure you're okay?", Derek suddenly asks her. She frowned. "I'm...I don't know.", she sighed. "I don't want my feelings to get in the way of what's going on."

Derek turned to her as she moved from behind him. "He's your friend, though.", he says. She nods. "He is. He's been there for me for as long as I can remember. Ever since I moved here, he was one of my first friends. Stuck with me for so long, even after his mom died."

She looked down. "When the funeral happened, he didn't talk to me for a while which worried me. But he came to my house one day and he was cheerful and goofy as ever as nothing ever happened. I knew better, though. He was always trying to make me feel better, but I told him to stop because he was grieving, and it was okay to do that."

She smiled at him. "From then on, it was always me just taking care of him instead."

Derek nods. "You do that a lot." He lifted a hand to let his thumb rub her cheek. "You care so much. I don't want that to be a weakness of yours."

Her eyes widened a bit at his sudden actions. Isaac's words echoed in her mind as she looked in Derek's eyes.

She tilted her head a bit into his hand, staring back at him in wonder. His green eyes usually held a spark of light in his eyes, despite them being filled with faint sadness he carried. They seemed almost empty...

Derek's thumb moved to the scar over her eyelid, rubbing it softly as his face changed into anger once he remembered how Kate slashed at her eye then to the recent memory of Chris, who had a gun pointed at her, not once but twice now. "Those Argents. They'll never learn.", he growled.

She frowned as she noticed the undertone of his lower eyelids turning red. "You okay?", she asked. Derek looked at her for a moment before smiling.

"Come with me for a bit, yeah?", Derek said, getting up and putting on another shirt. 

She watched him get ready, now weirded out by his change in behavior. Maybe he was tired. He did practically get thrown across his own home and slashed in the back.

What was he in a hurry for? 

"You sure you aren't tired?", she asked. He looked at her as he slung a duffle bag over his shoulder. "I feel fine. Let's go.", he says.

Sam wasn't sure what the hell was happening the moment she got in his car. She felt herself fall into slumber on the ride to...wherever he was taking her. 

Poor, poor Samantha. Your time's almost up.

Her eyes popped open as she looked around. She could only see the road and Derek driving. He glanced at her with a wide smile. It wasn't as smug like the last wide smile he had shown. It was new... Almost crazed.

She didn't feel frightened by his wide smile. She can't remember the last time he gave her such a smile, nonetheless it was a smile. She was pleasingly happy to see him smile as she longed for it. She didn't question it. She didn't question him.

As Chris opened his door, his eyebrows furrowed as he saw Derek and Sam at his door. Derek, who looked beyond tired, the dark reddening circles more apparent now and Sam, who also seemed exhausted and held a blank expression as she looked at the older man. "You guys okay?", he asked.

"I need to show you something.", Derek said bluntly as Sam followed behind him. Chris frowned at the sight of the duffle bag, confused as to why the two were so vague. So quiet.

Chris walked with Derek back to his office. Derek pulled something out of his pocket and opened his hand, letting what he had in his hand drop onto the desk. Talia's claws clattered on the table.

"Do you know who these belonged to?", Derek asked, not looking at Chris. "These claws are all that was left of my mother... after your psychotic sister burned her and the rest of my family alive."

Chris subtly reached under his jacket, grabbing the gun that he had hidden. But before he could pull it out, Sam raised a hand, using Chris' shadow to slam the older man's head into the doorframe, knocking him out for the moment.

Derek gave Sam a proud, wicked smile. "Smart girl.", he praised, making her smile happily. 

Derek yanked the man into a chair, restraining him by rope. Chris came to a few minutes after as Derek rummaged through the duffle bag once more. 

"Derek," Chris said, looking around dazedly. "Derek, listen to me. This isn't you. Neither of you.", he says as he looked at Sam.

"This is us, though.", Derek says, smiling at Sam before bringing out a bottle of lighter fluid and pouring it over Chris' head. 

"Derek! Listen to me! Whatever's gotten into your head, this isn't the way to deal with it.", Chris exclaims, desperately.

"You burn my family, I burn yours.", Derek said, tossing the empty bottle away before pulling out a lighter and hovered it in front of Chris's face, taunting him. "In fact, I'll burn the whole building down around you!"

Chris blew out the small flame, triggering Derek to stand and snatch at the older man's chin. Chris' muffled yell made Sam smile as Derek pointed at Chris before lighting the flame again.

"That was Kate. You know I had nothing to do with that. I'm not your enemy, Derek," Chris said as Derek slowly sat back down. "Not anymore."

"Yeah, you are.", Derek stated, waving the flame around, his eyes targeted on the flickering light like a beacon. "You and Allison. Which is why... I'm not gonna light this yet." Derek let out a breathy laugh with a wide grin as he taunted Chris with the light again. "I'm not!"

He sat back, messing with the lighter. "We're going to wait until she gets home and we're going to let her watch.", Derek told him.

Chris let out a frustrated yell as Sam laughed. 

Chris glared at the girl. "Are you the one doing this?", he growled.

"Nope.", Sam grinned childishly. "I don't have mind controlling powers, so I'm not the one you should be talking to.", she said, patting Derek's shoulders.

Chris looked at Derek. "You don't want to kill me. If you do, you're gonna regret it."

Derek grew angry again. "Why shouldn't I kill you?", Derek asked, standing. He began pacing the office, walking over to a window. "How many of us have you murdered? You're not my ally! You're a Hunter!"

"You're right. I am a Hunter.", Chris said, his eyes glancing at Sam. She seemed to be getting gradually tired. Her eyes fluttered as she leaned on the door frame.

It confused him, but before anything could happen, he had to get out. 

Derek, however, was covering his ears, trying to block out any of Chris' words. "Trained before I could even speak, and trained others. Do you know what the first lesson we teach is? We take our children, we bind them in a chair just like this. Then, we wait for them to get out. Most of them it takes hours. Others? Seconds."

With that, Chris pushed back, slamming himself and the chair back into the ground, and breaking the chair like it was nothing. Derek turned, fully shifted, roared at the older man before he jumped over the desk to attack him.

Grabbing the handgun that was held under the desk, Chris prodded it under Derek's chin stopping Derek from attacking.

"I don't want to kill you, Derek!", Chris shouted. "Don't make me kill you. Please!"

Before anyone could do anything, black blood began to drip from Derek's nose, who's eyes fluttered before he fell to the floor. Chris huffed, staring at Derek at confusion before looking over at Sam.

Sam's eyes rolled back as she backed away from the scene before her. "Sam," Chris walked over to the girl, his hand stretched out cautiously. 

She didn't say anything before the sun started to set. Chris noticed the change of lighting and turned back to Derek who stirred awake and back to Sam who was no longer there.

He frowned and shook his head before helping Derek up.

Stiles jolted awake, struggling to peel his taped mouth open.

He fell to his knees, gagging as he pulled cloth out of his mouth.

Everyone backed as Stiles finally pulled out all the dirty cloth from his body.

They watched as a hand rose up out of the bundle of cloth on the floor. Suddenly a body seemed to come from under the cloth, looking around as it saw the crowded people before it. 

Before it could charge at anyone, Scott and Peter tackled it and held it down.

"Hold on, hold on!", Scott yelled at Peter before unraveling the dirty rags to reveal Stiles' shocked face.

"Scott…?", Stiles whispered as he looked around.

"Scott.", Deaton called and Scott realized Lydia was gone. "Lydia!?", Scott ran out of the house find Lydia as Stiles sat back in disappointment and fright.

He shook as he thought of the danger his favorite girls could be in.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Derek groaned, wiping at his nose in confusion as he came to. "Where's Sam?"

"She's gone.", Chris replied. Derek's eyes widened as he looked at the older man. What the hell was happening…?

He remembered what he did. He remembered that she helped him.

After he and Chris talked, he left the apartments and called Peter.

His uncle answered after the first ring. "Peter, did you see Sam?", he asked.

Peter, who looked at Stiles, shook his head. "No, she was supposed to be with you, wasn't she?"

Peter's question caused everyone to look at him in confusion. "She was and then she left. A lot happened, but she left. I can't think of any place she could've gone.", Derek replied.

Stiles' eyes pooled with tears. This was all his fault. Lydia was gone and so was Sam. But he did what the Nogitsune said. Though… He did defy him as well. But how long was he gonna follow behind someone that wanted to cause harm to his life and everyone in it…?

[janedoeswriting]

The Way The Wind Blows (Stiles x OC) Chapter Three

Description: Rhiannon finds herself trapped within her guilty pleasure tv show— Teen Wolf. Now, she must choose which path to take… one that leads back home, and another that follows uncertain adventure.

Tags: extreme slow burn, frienemies to lovers, fix it fic, canon change, actions have consequences.

TW: smut??, angst, fluff, sexual harassment, anxiety, depression, obsession, domestic violence, manipulation, etc. Just please do not read if you are sensitive to difficult subjects.

(One Way Or Another by Blondie)

It wasn't unusual for Stiles to overdo things, but this was a bit much even for Scott. Second period hadn't even started yet and Stiles was borderline harassing Scott about all the theories he'd thought up during first period. The obnoxious flipping of books and whispering may have been a hindrance to other students' ability to focus, but since it was the first day of class everyone seemed to be too busy catching up with one another before class.

Apparently, Stiles never failed to find a way to create more work in Scott's life than he really needed.

"I'm telling you, she could be a lone wolf. I mean-- maybe she somehow heard about Derek becoming an alpha and came looking for a pack--," but Scott cut him of with a hand covering his mouth. Even though Stiles had been whispering, Scott didn't like running the risk of talking about the supernatural around other people.

"Stiles. Not now," he harshly whispered to his friend. Scott couldn't help but glance at Allison who had just walked into the classroom, but quickly glanced away. Stiles ripped Scott's hand off his face, but just as Stiles opened his mouth to fire off some retort the approach of Allison reigned in Scott's attention. To Scott's silent delight, Allison took the only available seat in the room-- the one right in front of his own. As Allison asked if someone sat there and Scott fumbled awkwardly with his response, Stiles' brain was running a million miles a second.

Stiles' legs tapped out of control and his hands fiddled with his pencil. Possibilities and theories flew through his mind. Scott was very obviously not taking the situation as seriously as he was, which made Stiles clench his jaw and turn away. The room erupted with the sound of cell phones buzzing and dinging. Everyone took out their phones only to read a quote. The English teacher read it allowed as she walked into the classroom.

As the teacher instructed everyone to turn off their phone, Stiles couldn't help but raise his hand. He couldn't turn off his phone--what if there was an emergency? What if his dad called him needing his help? What if Rhiannon ran away again and only Stiles could track her down?

His anxiety was senseless as he shot up his hand and asked to use the bathroom. Stiles slipped his phone into his back pocket as the teacher gave him permission to go, and was out the door faster than she could even ask for his name.

"Stiles--," Scott said to the new teacher as he turned off his phone. "That's Stiles."

The teacher nodded and smiled, checking Stiles' name off the attendance sheet. "Good to know Stiles is just as excited to be here as the rest of you." She said sarcastically and the classroom let out a half-hearted laugh at her cheesy joke.

In the bathroom, Stiles called his father. The phone rang once, twice. Finally, it went to voicemail. He tried again to no avail. Stiles couldn't take it any longer. He couldn't sit there in a classroom waiting for everything to go wrong. He'd make himself crazy wondering whether his father had indeed taken Rhiannon to Eichen House, or if she had been submitted to another hospital stay. Or worse-- if she had somehow escaped again.

He slipped through the hallways away from the prying eyes of teachers or students, and made a break for the jeep against his father's order to stay in school.

In the classroom, Scott got called out of class by his mother. He noticed Stiles' blue jeep nowhere to be found and groaned. "He's gonna be in so much trouble," Scott murmured as he put on his helmet and mounted his bike.

While Scott technically was skipping class, it was only because his mother had called him out due to an emergency. Stiles was straight up going against his dad's orders. As these thoughts ran through Scott's mind while he made way for the hospital.

However, he didn't notice the flock of crows flying directly for the school.

--

"What do you mean she doesn't exist?" Sheriff Stilinski said.

The absurdity of it confused him to the point of anger. "I'm saying she doesn't have a birth certificate. No record of any family or criminal history. She never had a drivers licence. No medical records except for the hospital. Just... nothing."

Sheriff Stilinski looked at the records and faxes and emails. In frustration he tossed the empty file down on the desk and walked away. The CPS worker was in his office with Rhiannon. At least she has a name, he thought.

The girl had started to talk more ever since Stiles had involved himself. Though, she wasn't talking about herself at all. Or providing any useful information. "We have to get her to speak to a psychologist. And get her checked out again at the hospital," one of the agents said. His entire office had been buzzing all day with the case of the Jane Doe, FBI agents in and out researching and calling. The manhunt that had lasted into the morning had turned into a full on investigation. "Maybe even... Eichen House should take her in." One of them said hesitantly.

"She's not crazy," the Sheriff snapped, though he wasn't quite sure. "She's just a kid. A scared kid."

Finally, the door opened and the CPS worker came out with the girl in tow. She was wearing the clothes they had gotten her after they found her earlier that morning in the forest. She had taken another shower and her cuts had been treated with basic first aid, but she still had bruises and scratches on her arms and legs.

"I've already spoken to doctors and agents and deputies. At the hospital." the girl reasoned. Sheriff Stilinski never thought he'd be so relieved to hear the sound of a teenager's annoyed protests.

Thankfully, the girl's expression looked more sober than it had before. Like she had come out of a foggy haze.

"Before you ran away?" the CPS worker asked with a raised brow. Rhiannon gave an exasperated expression and turned to the Sheriff. "Mr. Stilinski tell her I don't need a psychological evaluation, please. I'm not crazy."

She spoke as if she knew him, which was strange, but the Sheriff had to admit she didn't seem like any of the patients who stayed at Eichen. Sure, she had experienced quite a bit of trauma the past 24 hours, but it was clear that she was somewhat acting like a normal teenager.

He made a face that said, 'Welll'. Rhiannon huffed and crossed her arms. He couldn't help but smirk. "Cmon', kid. You don't remember who you are or where you came from, and you have a tendency to break hospital windows to make a break for the woods. We've got to try and make sure you're okay." He reasoned.

"How can I prove I'm not crazy?" She offered. The CPS worker inclined her head skeptically and Sheriff Stilinski pursed his lips.

"Let's start with actually answering our questions, not running away the first chance you get, and letting us help you."

Rhiannon pursed her lips and sucked in a breath. He raised an eyebrow at her and she begrudgingly nodded.

--

It was noon and the entire department was exhausted. There had been at least five coffee runs, six deputies came in on their days off, countless FBI agents in and out, and constant ringing of the phones.

The day finally seemed to be calming when the majority of the agents left, the calls grew scarce, and half of his department finally went home to sleep. Still, they sat in that office. Two agents, one CPS worker, a Psychologist, and a Sheriff.

Rhiannon sat for hours talking. Answering questions. She didn't remember her family. She remembers she had a dad and mom, but can't remember their names or faces or if she had siblings. She knew she wasn't from Beacon Hills, but didn't know where she came from or how she had gotten there.

She ran away from the hospital because she was scared. She'd wanted to go home. It was easy to play the amnesiac lost girl, until Sheriff Stilinski began to ask questions.

"How did you know who I was when we met?" He asked. He didn't sound like he suspected her of anything, but saying 'I don't remember' was getting repetitive.

"It says it on your nametag," she offered. He looked down and lo and behold, his name displayed on his right breast pocket. "You called Stiles and Scott by different names. Tyler and Dylan. Who did you mean?" Apparently, the Sheriff had gotten a thorough statement from the night prior. Rhiannon remained calm despite the panic tugging at her chest. Thank God there weren't any werewolves around to detect her lying heart.

She made a show of blinking in confusion. "I-I don't know. It's like waking up from a dream and remembering it all one moment, and then the next it's gone."

Every pair of eyes on her was sympathetic. Even the FBI agents bought it. Sheriff Stilinski seemed to as well... almost.

"Do you remember your birthday?" the Sheriff asked.

The words left her lips automatically.

"August 18th." She said. "And what day is today?" He asked. She hesitated. She didn't know that answer, but she recalled what day it was back when she was home. "August 3rd, I think." She said. Sheriff Stilinski's lips tightened into a flat line. The one's taking notes fervently wrote. The agents looked to each other. "What? What day is it?" She asked, wondering what secret they all knew that she didn't. Sheriff Stilinski hesitated.

"It's August 23rd," the psychologist said gently.

Rhiannon looked up to the Sheriff again. "So I turned sixteen and I don't remember it?" she asked. The silent question hung thickly in the air.

They were all thinking the same thing: Where had she been in those twenty days she'd been missing?

"Don't worry, Rhiannon. We're going to take care of you." The CPS worker assured her. Rhiannon looked down at her hands, entwined in her lap. "How do I prove I'm not crazy? I don't want to go to--," she caught herself before she said Eichen House. She had to prove she wasn't crazy. Going there was practically a death sentence in this show.

"-to an asylum." She finished.

She looked toward the psychologist. "Rhiannon, you're going to be taken care of. For now, we need to do some more in-depth assessments of both your mental and physical health at the hospital." Great. Just great. She was going to get torn apart by dread doctors or sexually harassed by creepy healthcare workers.

Still, she had no other way to prove she wasn't crazy other than going along with what they said. She turned to Sherrif Stilinski, who looked hopeful.

"I'll go. And I won't run away. If... Mr. Stilinski promises to keep me safe."

She knew he would protect her. Even if she got sent to Eichen, one word from her and he'd have her transferred somewhere better. If there was one think she knew, it was that Noah Stilinski wouldn't break a promise to someone in need.

She could use that to her advantage.

Slowly, he nodded. He was unsure of why she turned to him, or trusted him at all. Why would she ask such a request from him? But she was alone in the world, and maybe he was the most trustworthy figure she knew. The thought saddened him. The idea of his son being in Rhiannon's position caused his heart to squeeze.

"Of course, Rhiannon. I promise I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe."

Later, when Rhiannon was successfully admitted to the hospital, the Sheriff got a break down of the plan for how they would handle the girl. "She doesn't seem unstable-- just rattled. After some testing is done, we can diagnose if she just has amnesia or if theres something else at play."

"Do you think she's schizophrenic or something?" Sherrif asked. It sounded silly. The doctor shook his head. "From what I gathered, she's as sane as you or me. Just without the majority of her memory."

Sheriff nodded, relieved to hear the good news. He turned to the CPS worker. "What's the plan? Are you going to have to find her a foster home?" he asked. She nodded. "We'll have to find a temporary placing. The foster options in Beacon Hills are very limited, especially on such short notice. We might have to take her out of town. I assume she'll be in the hospital for at least a few days, if not more. I've got my work cut out for me, Sheriff. Not to mention how difficult it is to find a home that's safe. A young beautiful girl like that is a difficult placement. You never know who might have nefarious intentions."

Stilinski nodded grimly. The thought sunk into his stomach and the promise he made her hung in the air. As the CPS worker walked away, she said, "If you know anyone willing to take in a sixteen year old girl within the next week let me know."

--

Stiles bolted into the building. It was much quieter than it had been that morning. Everyone seemed exhausted, and Stiles scanned the room only to be stopped by a deputy at the front desk.

"Where is she?" he demanded in labored breaths.

He didn't even bat an eye at Stiles. "She was readmitted to Beacon Memorial."

"Where's my--," Stiles started.

"Your dad is at home. Sleeping. And you should be in school. Learning."

Stiles was already halfway out the door when he heard a call coming from the radios and the room suddenly bustled with energy.

He turned, but everyone was scrambling. Some ran out the door, others answered phone calls and barked orders. Stiles finally over heard it on a radio, "...animal accident at the high school..." His blood ran cold. "What kind of accident!?" he demanded from a deputy using a phone.

She ignored him and quickly barked out to other deputies, "A flock of crows flew through the windows of a classroom at Beacon Hills High. Minor injuries, but a lot of dead crows." Stiles stepped back as another officer ran by. Lights and sirens blared outside as they rushed to the scene. Stiles ran back to his jeep and reached for his phone. If there was a problem at the school, Scott would know about it, since he was still there.

"Scott!! What's goin' on at the school?" Stiles exclaimed as soon as Scott picked up his phone call. "The school? What are you talking about?" "There was an accident right? A flock of crows flew into a classroom's windows."

Stiles turned the key in the ignition and sped down the road after the cops. "I have no idea what your talking about. I'm not at the school, I'm with Derek." Scott said, sounding distressed and in a hurry.

"Derek? What the hell are you doing with--?" Stiles started, but Scott cut him off urgently. "Look-- just meet us at Derek's house, okay?"

"Us?!" Stiles asked, but Scott had hung up the phone. Stiles didn't have time for debates, and made a sharp turn in the direction of the Hale house.

--

Rhiannon slept for fifteen hours. She didn't even realize how exhausted she truly was until she got there.

She showered again, got another IV, ate a hearty meal of delicious hospital food, and was heavily baraded by doctor and nurse alike. Nurse McCall was nowhere to be seen thankfully-- Rhiannon didn't want to face her quite yet after freaking her out the night before.

Rhiannon remembered what she'd said to Melissa. She told her that she knew about Scott, and that she was from another world. Hopefully Melissa didn't tell any doctors that piece of information, or she'd be tossed in a loony bin in no time. Rhi was secretly hoping Melissa wouldn't tell Scott either, but she knew that was wishful thinking.

When Rhiannon awoke she didn't remember how she even fell asleep. She rang for a nurse and asked for her IV to be removed.

When she realized the time, she sighed.

"It's two in the morning," the nighttime nurse told her. "Are you hungry at all?" Rhiannon opened her mouth but her stomach spoke for her with a loud girgle. The nurse chuckled and tucked Rhiannon back into bed. "Don't run off anywhere. I'll be right back with a midnight snack." The nurse had made a joke, but Rhiannon was too groggy to laugh. She saw some male nurses congregating near a desk area outside the open door. They were talking. "Three runaway patients in a day? I mean how do you even put the wrong person on the operating table?" "I don't know, man. Apparently that kid Isaac was in a bad motorcycle accident. I saw him get brought in. There was blood everywhere. No way he didn't need to be operated on. I saw his wounds."

"Oh, bullshit," one said. "I'm serious. It was probably some other guy they wheeled in there. I'll bet the poor kid is kidnapped."

"He ran away. And he wasn't injured-- it was someone else's blood." "Rightt. Well the chick and the kid will have some fun explaining to do if they ever turn up again. Like this one," he said and gestured to the room. Rhiannon pretended not to hear them and suddenly became very interested in the plant on the side table next to her. "She'll have one hell of a bill when she gets released," he said with a chuckle. "Hey, she's got amnesia. Leave her alone." "Oh come on, you know I'm messin' around. Besides, it's only a matter of time before they ship her to Eichen house anyways."

They went silent as the female nurse returned with a tray of food and kind smile on her face. "Here we are. I got you some McDonalds. We have one inside." Rhiannon brightened at the sight. "Thank you," she said. The nurse beamed at her. "Of course! Are you in pain? Do you need anything?"

Rhiannon took a bite of a chicken nugget and shook her head. When she was finally left alone and her meal was eaten, Rhiannon ran through the possibilities of what she was to do next. She could stay there in Beacon Hills and try to work with Scott and his friends to find a way back home. But their skills had never extended to multi dimensional travel. And side characters generally ended up toast.

If she stuck around the hub of evil supernatural forces, Rhiannon was sure to die. Just an extra character laying out on the concrete after some monster rampage. No, it wouldn't be her. She would have to get out. And that meant she would have to run away again. But this time, more successfully. She couldn't be put into Eichen-- it would be impossible to escape. No, she had to convince them that she was sane, and then when they least expect it she could make a break for it on some bus and get as far east as she could. Maybe she'd eventually make it back to Florida-- where she was from. Was. Was there anyone even there? Would she return to her childhood home to find it occupied by strangers?

Rhiannon didn't want to think about it. All she wanted to do was go home. She could do that. She would do that.

Getting out of Beacon Hills sounded like a good place to start.

--

The next time Rhiannon woke up, it was a busy day. She did tests, scans, x-rays, answered more questions, spoke to councilors and CPS workers and psychiatric specialists. In and out. In and out. New people, new questions, new tasks.

Rhiannon was feeling like a top slowing it's spin by 2pm. Another knock on the door, and Rhiannon grimaced inwardly. She turned only to find who she least expected. Sheriff Stilinski stood in the doorway.

"Oh-- hello." Rhiannon said. He smiled at her and walked in. The sun shone through the window but the two of them looked ragged in their own ways. "Good morning, or- I guess- afternoon," he said, noticing the clock's display of 1:00pm. Rhiannon was surprised he was there given the timeline of events. In her mind, Rhiannon ran through what she believed was happening. She was in season three in one of the first episodes. She didn't know which one. The way time moved was obviously much different in real life. She was also in a hospital with no clue what events were happening around her other than Issac and Braeden being admitted and leaving. Which meant that the Alpha pack was attacking, and a dark druid in the form of a high school english teacher was at large.

"Heh. It's been pretty crazy. I don't even know what day it is because I slept so much," she said.

Mr. Stilinski smiled. "Today is Saturday. I've got some good news from the doctor-- all of your tests are looking good. They're thinking you may be able to be discharged tomorrow." Rhiannon stomach lurched. "Discharged? Not transferred to the loony bin?"

He laughed heartily. "You're mental health evaluation went well. You're perfectly sane."

Rhiannon smiled, relief blooming within her. "Thank God."

"So, what are you doing here today?" she asked the sheriff, surprised he was even there to pay a visit. In Beacon Hills, there was always something important to investigate.

"Thing's are finally seeming to calm down," he said. "It's been an eventful few days. I wanted to come check and see how you were feeling."

"I haven't remembered anything, if that's what you mean," she said. He shook his head, "No, no. I didn't mean that. It... It must be scary for you being here. I want to let you know that I'm doing the best I can to find your family and get you back home." It was so sincere that Rhiannon felt guilt tug at her heart.

He wouldn't be able to find her family-- they don't exist. Not here.

"Thank you, Sheriff Stilinski." His shoulder radio cracked to life and a voice barked coded orders. He clicked the button and responded. "10-4, on the way to you." He smiled at Rhiannon and said, "Duty calls. Let me know if you need anything. I'll be back tomorrow to help figure out the details of your discharge."

Rhiannon nodded and beamed at him. She felt both guilty and grateful in that moment. Guilty to lie to him, and grateful that he was there for her. She felt safer knowing he had her back-- even if she didn't really deserve it.

--

One Day Later

--

Stiles and Scott were in Stiles' bedroom debating on whether or not they should go out.

"Come on, it's the perfect opportunity to move on. You know... forget about Allison like you've been doing all summer." Stiles said. He laid in his bed has he tossed a lacrosse ball up in the air and caught it again.

"It's just weird you know?" Scott said.

"How is it weird?"

"Well, after the deer and the birds-- I mean, I thought you wanted to figure out what's up with that girl Rhiannon. See if she was a lone wolf, like you think? And now you want to go to a party?"

"There's time to figure it out with her. I mean, with the way things are going she'll be admitted to Eichen. We'll have plenty of time to interrogate her then." Stiles said, though thoughts of Rhiannon hadn't stopped plaguing his mind.

After the attack on Issac, and with Erica and Boyd missing, they were pretty much at a standstill. Derek had made very clear that taking on a pack of alphas was for him to deal with and that Scott and Stiles weren't welcome in his endeavors.

For once, Scott had the opportunity to take a step back and be a normal teenager. And yet Stiles suddenly dropping the subject of Rhiannon was a subject of Scott's suspicion.

"You were pretty worked up over it until everything with Isaac and Derek." "Yeah, and the alpha pack out to get us? Derek wants to handle it alone, and I'm not gonna change his mind."

Scott had to agree. It was a relief that this wasn't their problem anymore.

"Maybe a crazy girl is the least of our worries," Stiles added.

A sound at the door notified Scott that Stiles' father had arrived home.

"Your dads here." he said, since Stiles didn't have Scott's supernatural hearing.

After Stiles skipped school the other day his dad had been so swamped with work that Stiles had managed to slip under the wire. The ball Stiles had been tossing in the air missed his hand and smacked him in the face.

"Ow!" Stiles exclaimed, clutching his face. Mr. Stilinski appeared at the threshold. He looked tired, but not nearly as bad as he had been two days ago.

"Stiles," he said and then nodded to Scott. "Scott. I need to talk to you boys about something." Stiles sat up straight and his face turned pale. Great, Stiles thought, fearing the impending lecture.

"Yeah, dad? What's up?" he asked, trying to play it cool.

"You two remember that girl you found the other night? Rhiannon Watson."

Stiles' blood ran cold again but for a different reason. The boys attention piqued.

"Yeah." Stiles said. "Well, she's been discharged from the hospital today." Mr. Stilinski said. "Oh she didn't get sent to Eichen?" Stiles said, and Scott elbowed him in the ribs. Stiles held his side and shot Scott a glare that said 'what was that for?'.

"No she's perfectly fine. Your concern is touching," Mr. Stilinski said both sarcastically and sternly.

Stiles knew why Scott had elbowed him in the ribs in that moment. Because from around the corner there she stood. She wore a baggy shirt and sweatpants that looked like Stiles' old clothes that had no longer fit him. She met their shocked gazes with a chin held high, and awkwardly smiled at them. It didn't reach her eyes.

Mr. Stilinski sucked in a heavy breath and continued. "Well, she'll be staying with us for a bit while a foster family is found. CPS ran out of options, and well--...I volunteered to take her in."

Stiles mouth fell open. Scott blinked, and looked between them.

"It'll be temporary, but I hope you'll will be welcoming to her while she's with us," he said, not really knowing what to say to explain himself. He didn't mean to spring this on his son, but that morning had been a whirlwind. When he impulsively told CPS that he could take her he hadn't thought that far ahead.

A silence hung in the air. "Stiles," Mr. Stilinski said sternly to his stupefied son. "Say hello to your foster sister."

Stiles was in such shock that he remained frozen. Scott took it upon himself to break the awkwarness.

"Hello, I don't know if you remember me. I'm Scott, Stiles' friend." he said as he stood. Rhiannon held her hand out and he shook it. Scott didn't forget what his mom had told him-- that this girl knew he was a werewolf. Still, she smelled and looked human enough. Her heart was racing and in that moment Scott felt badly for Stiles' earlier accusations.

"I remember you, Scott. I-...," she looked down embarrassed. "I'm sorry about how you found me. I was, uh... I wasn't in my right mind."

Stiles blinked and shook himself out of his stunned stupor. He quickly shot to his feet and nodded. "H-hi- Hello." He wiped his hands on his pants and held it out. She looked at it and then shook his hand. He quickly withtook it and shuffled his feet.

Rhiannon looked around trying to avoid the weight of their stares on her. "Well now that we got that out of the way... I got some pizza for dinner. Rhiannon, let me show you to your room. It's just down here to the right." After Rhiannon proceeded down the hall Mr. Stilinski shot his son a look and then left the doorway. Scott and Stiles looked at each other in shock. Stiles' expression also held a little bit of panic.

Stiles mouthed 'Is she a wolf?' Scott shook his head. She smelled perfectly human.

'Sister?' Scott mouthed to Stiles teasingly. Stiles bent backward with his hands on his head and then stepped forward into the hallway. He caught a glimpse of Rhiannon and his father walking into the guest room diagonal across the hall from his own bedroom.

Scott followed, pushing Stiles down the opposite direction and into the kitchen. On the dinnertable two boxes of pizza sat.

"What-," Stiles bit out in a hushed whisper, but the sound of footsteps snapped his mouth shut. He did his best to act natural as his dad approached them.

"I expect you boys to be the most welcoming people in the world to that poor girl. She's been through a lot, you hear me?" he whispered to them, and then walked over to get some plates. Stiles and Scott sent each other looks and then sat at the table.

"Rhiannon, do you want anything to drink? We have some coke, or milk if you'd like?" Mr. Stilinski called loudly. Rhiannon appeared from the hallway.

"Um, I'll just have some water." she said, trying not to glance at the two boys gawking at her. "Thank you, Mr. Stilinski." she added.

Rhiannon fiddled with the edge of the table as she sat across from them. "So, uh, Rhiannon--," Scott started. "Rhi." she corrected.

"Right-- Rhi. How long will you be staying here?" Scott asked. Mr. Stilinski shot him a vicious look that Rhiannon didn't see and Scott gulped. "Well I don't know. As long as you'll have me, I guess." she said, looking at Stiles.

"These two go to Beacon Hills High School. If you want, you can start there whenever you feel up to it. The hospital said you can take as long of a break as you'd like until your comfortable." Mr. Stilinski said as he set the water in front of her and began making her a plate of pizza. It was cheese. They never got cheese. Only pepperoni. Stiles sucked in a breath and attempted to speak. "You got cheese?" He asked, and felt stupid for saying it. "We got both." His dad said. Scott and Stiles opened up the other box and began to serve themselves. Rhiannon did the sign of the cross and began to silently pray.

The table went quiet. She looked up in confusion at their stares. "What?" she asked. "Your... religious?" Mr. Stilinski asked. She blinked at them. "Oh. I guess, yeah." she said, feeling stupid.

"I don't really remember...But I was. I think..." and trailed off. Mr. Stilinski smiled. "It's alright. That's good. Muscle memory can help, right?" His hopefull comment brought a small smile to her face. "Right."

Mr. Stilinski bowed his head and when he noticed the boys staring dumbfounded, he gestured for them to follow. They immediately bowed their heads in prayer. "Bless us Oh Lord and these thy gifts which we are about to receive through Thy bounty through Christ our Lord. Amen." Mr. Stilinski said with Rhiannon. Stiles picked up on the prayer halfway through, remembering it from his childhood.

They hadn't prayed in years. Not since his mother died.

They dug in silently. Mr. Stilinski cleared his throat and picked up the conversation. He was trying his best to be welcoming and warm, which wasn't his strong suit. "So, boys--," he said. They sat ramrod straight with mouths full of pepperoni pizza. "What are you up to tonight?" Stiles chewed and swallowed quickly. "Uh, there's a party."

"A party?" "Yeah, Heather's birthday party."

"Oh Heather. How is she?"

"Good. She's good." Stiles said. In truth he hadn't caught up with her in a while and was surprised to receive an invitation to the party. Nonetheless he was still eager to go. "Good." Mr. Stilinksi said. Normally when they ate there was no pressure to make conversation. Now, a fear of silence hung in the kitchen.

"Well... why don't you go with them, Rhi?" Mr. Stilinski asked. Stiles almost spit out his gulp of soda, and Scott patted his friend on the back as Stiles coughed. "Um, it's okay-," she started.

"You were telling me in the car that you were excited to be a normal kid again, right? Why not?"

He sounded so hopeful that Rhiannon hesitated on her decline of his offer. "Stiles, you'd take her around, introduce her to some friends, right? Make her feel welcome?"

It wasn't a question but a command. Stiles nodded. "Yeah, yeah for sure. You should come," he said but didn't really mean it. "Great." Mr. Stilinski said and took a bite. Rhiannon met Stiles' eyes with a very slight wince. Stiles swallowed and nodded, fighting a grimace.

--

Rhiannon sat on the bed and looked at herself in the vanity mirror across from it. Her clothes were baggy, and were a combination of what Sheriff Stilinski had brought to her and stuff from charity donations. An old star wars shirt and athletic sweatpants-- both a size too large for her.

Mr. Stilinski said they would swing by the charity center in the morning to get her some new clothes, but she wished they had done that earlier.

After the excruciating dinner Stiles and Scott made a break for Stiles' bedroom. She tried to back out of the party but Mr. Stilinski looked crushed at the idea that she didn't feel welcome, and she didn't have the heart to go through with it.

Now she sat waiting for her final hour of reckoning. A knock sounded at her door. "Come in," she called, pretending to tie the laces on the battered converse that had been donated to her. "Are you ready?" Stiles said. He looked like a lamb for slaughter. "You don't have to bring me, Stiles. It's oka--," she said, but cut herself off at the sight of Mr. Stilinski standing at the edge.

"Don't worry. It'll be fun!" He didn't sound very enthusiastic.

--

The car ride was excruciating. Scott climbed in the back seat and Rhi had no choice but to sit shotgun. Stiles fumbled with his keys, dropped them, and then it took a few times of turning the key for the engine to start.

"Come on," he begged the car. "Come on." Finally, it burst to life.

Stiles let out a short laugh of relief. "She's a bit rusty."

Rhiannon nodded in acknowledgement, and looked out the window. The sky was colored a burnt orange as the sun set. They drove down the road. Scott lightly smacked Stiles on the shoulder and made eyes at him to say something. Stiles shrugged like he didn't know what to say until he finally gave in.

"Listen-- about the other day-," he started but Rhiannon interrupted. "Don't worry about it. Let's just forget the whole thing." She said firmly. Stiles couldn't object to that, and then Scott gestured for him to try again.

"Okay. Great. Forgotten. Already gone. All the memory just--," and then he got smacked in the shoulder by Scott and Stiles realized how insensitive he sounded to the amnesiac sitting passenger. Talking about forgotten memories maybe wasn't the best idea.

Rhiannon didn't know how to ease the tension but also didn't know if she even wanted to. Against her better judgement she spoke. "Thanks for taking me along but you guys don't have to bring me to the party."

"No!" Scott said quickly. "It'll be fun. Don't worry." But Rhiannon could feel that they knew it wouldn't be fun with her there, and were just doing what Stiles' dad told them to.

"I... Don't plan on staying here for long. In Beacon Hills." Rhiannon said.

"Why not?" Stiles asked. Rhiannon let out a short laugh. Because there are murderous supernatural creatures at every turn. And I'm a side character-- a villians main course. "I'm gonna go home." she responded. The boys were quiet for a moment. Right. That probably sounded really sad coming from a girl who had no home or family or memories of either.

"When I remember what home is." she added. Her quick mindedness was at the least a relief. The sun sank beneath the horizon and colored the clouds into beautiful purples and reds. She'd never been to California before, Rhiannon realized. It was pretty.

"Well in the meantime...," Stiles said trailing off. He didn't have much to say. Scott cut in, "You've got us."

Did they have her? They hardly even knew who she was. It sounded so surface-level that Rhiannon let a scoff slip.

"Right. Look- I don't need to be your friends. Your dad has been very kind to me. I don't know why, but he has. And I'm grateful to him. But you don't have to force yourselves to-," she said, but Stiles interrupted. "We're not! It'll be fun. New girl in town, fresh meat," Stiles said. Ironic, Rhi thought. "You'll fit right in."

As Scott sat in the back, he remembered again what his mother warned him. The memory flashed in his mind. She knows what you are.

"Soooo... What were you doin' out there? In the woods." Stiles said.

"Stiles." Scott said sternly. But Rhiannon responded matter-of-factly. "Waiting to get run over."

It was a joke, but they were so surprised they didn't laugh. Rhiannon sighed. This was going to be a long night.

Rhiannon had already thought through her plan of action during her stay in the hospital.

Plan A was to avoid any main characters and to get the hell out of Beacon Hills the first chance she got. Plan A was obviously dashed to the wind when Sheriff Stilinski volunteered to take her in and pushed her together with the main characters.

Plan B was to play dumb. To pretend like she didn't know anything. She wasn't crazy. She was just some poor, helpless girl who had nothing to do with the supernatural and nothing to do with Scott McCall.

Apparently, Scott had plans to scratch out Plan B too.

"My mom told me she met you. In the hospital." he said. Rhiannon froze up at the mention of Scotts mother. The way she had acted and things she said that night weren't fitting in with the whole 'nothing to do with Scott McCall' thing.

"Did she?" Rhiannon responded, trying to sound bored. His supernatural hearing picked up on the stutter of her heart.

"She said that you knew me."

"I do know you. You almost ran me over." she said.

"Right, but-," Scott started. "And you saw me naked." Rhiannon added, hoping that adding some discomfort would change the subject. It did somewhat. Stiles' face turned beet red and he shifted uncomfortably. Scott coughed. "Right. That too."

Much to Rhi's dismay, he continued. "She also said you knew what I am."

The atmosphere changed instantly. Rhi tried to cover it by playing dumb.

"What, a lacrosse player?"

"How do you know he plays lacrosse?" Stiles asked suspiciously. Rhi raised a brow and pointed a thumb to the lacrosse stick in the back seat next to Scott.

"Oh. That's mine." Stiles said.

"So you don't play lacrosse?" Rhi asked Scott. Scott tipped his head to the side. "Well.. I do-,"

"Great. Then it's settled. You're both lacrosse players."

Scott didn't know what to say. He believed his mother, but what if she was wrong? If this girl didn't know that he was a werewolf and he came out and said it, it wouldn't be good for him. Maybe she'd go around telling people he was a freak who thinks he's a wolf. Or maybe...

"That I'm a werewolf."

Stiles swerved and looked in the rear view mirror at his friend like he had gone mad.

"Is that an inside joke I'm supposed to know about?" She asked smoothly. Stiles subtly let out a sigh of relief. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry. It was." Scott said.

They finally reached the party. There were cars parked along the street and a house lit up with lights and people lingering outside. Stiles parked and turned off the car, eager to get out of this situation as soon as possible. "Here we are! Party time." He let out an awkward laugh.

Rhi got out and opened the seat for Scott to climb out of the car. He did smoothly and she pushed it back in and moved to climb back inside. "What are you doing?" Stiles asked. "Waiting in the car." She responded as if it were obvious.

"Yourrr not coming in?" Stiles asked.

Rhi shrugged. "I don't really want to. You guys have fun. I'll be here when you're done."

Stiles looked at Scott and begrudgingly gave in. Rhi watched as they walked down the sidewalk into the frey. She recalled the mental notes about what happened that night and knew there was nothing she could do to stop a pre-existing plot from unfolding.

As Scott and Stiles walked down the sidewalk Scott glanced at his phone. One missed call from Allison. "That was a genius move. Just go ahead and tell everyone you're a werewolf. It's a great conversation starter," Stiles said sarcastically, still reeling from his best friend's leap of faith.

Scott ignored the notification and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

"She knows." Scott said. Stiles was taken aback. "What?" he asked.

"Her heart skipped a beat. She was lying."

"Maybe she just realized you're crazy." Stiles reasoned. Scott shook his head, and knew the truth.

So Rhiannon did know.

"That means she's hiding something. Why would she lie about knowing what you are?" Stiles said. "And why is she so determined to get out of Beacon Hills?" Scott added, taking note of how strange it was that she would rather wait in the car than go with them.

Stiles took the information in, glancing back at his jeep down the road. He turned back to Scott. "Do you think we can trust her?"

"No." Scott said quickly. "Not until we know how she knows I'm a werewolf."

Stiles sucked in a breath. "Great. Just great. We've got a suspicious person who came mysteriously out of the woods living in my house."

Rhiannon wished she had a journal to write down what she knew. To put it all on paper so she didn't forget anything. She made a mental note to get her hands on a journal the first chance she got.

In the meantime, she slumped in the seat and tried to remember what happened in this episode. They went to a party. Heather tries to have sex with Stiles. She gets kidnapped and sacrificed because she's a virgin.

Rhiannon's blood ran cold as a realization hit. She was a virgin. And a side character.

What if the story could change? What if she was the next sacrifice? She certainly wasn't in a good position-- alone in a car. Defenseless.

Rhiannon opened the door and ran down the street. Scott and Stiles were approaching the house.

"Wait!" Rhiannon called. They stopped and turned around. She reached them panting.

"Wait."

"What? Change your mind?" Stiles asked with an edge to his voice.

"Yes.... Yes I want to go."

She was still breathing heavily but the boys looked at each other. Scott shrugged and said, "Okay. Let's go."

Rhiannon felt relief as she stepped between them and led the way into the house. Normally she would have been riddled with anxiety at the thought of entering a party sober knowing absolutely nobody. But now, she was just relieved that she wasn't in impending doom.

She just had to stay with Scott. With Scott she would be safe.

When she entered the house a blond girl looked at her in confusion. "Stiles!" She exclaimed, but slowed as he came to a stop next to Rhi. Her expression looked a bit disappointed as she appraised Rhiannon. "Whose this?" Heather asked.

Wait, wasn't she supposed to kiss him?, Rhi thought in confusion as she looked between the two. Stiles was caught off guard but quickly recovered. "Oh! This is my new foster sister."

Foster sister. It sounded silly to Rhi, but she smiled pleasantly and held out her hand to Heather. "I'm Rhi, nice to meet you... His dad uh... made him bring me." Rhi added, noticing Heathers disappointment. Who was Rhi to stand in the way of the girl's targeted conquest?

"Oh..." Heather said, taking Rhi's hand and shaking it. Rhi grabbed Scott's forearm and dragged him forward. "And Scott," Rhi added. She met Scott's gaze with a cry for help. She knew a scorned woman when she saw one. The last thing she needed was for some girl to get the wrong idea and start unnecessary drama. "Hi," Scott said. Heather smiled tightly at them. "Do you guys want a drink?" She asked with a smile.

Rhi's brows furrowed. A drink? Wasn't she supposed to take Stiles down to the cellar and proceed to get kidnapped?

"Yeah, that'd be great!" Stiles said enthusiastically. Heather smiled at him and lead them all to the kitchen.

What is happening? The plot can change?

"Here we are," she said, handing them all freshly poured jungle juice. When Heather handed the cup to Rhi she spilled it. All down Rhi's front. Stiles' old star wars shirt and sweat pants were soaked and sticky.

"Whoops," Heather said with a vicious smile. Bitch, Rhi thought.

"Woah," Stiles said, not clocking how non-accidental the accident was. He rushed to grab a towel and started drying Rhi off. Rhi stepped back and took the towel from him. Stiles realized he had overstepped a boundary and blushed. This only seemed to piss Heather off more. "I'm sooo sorry. You can borrow some of my clothes! Scott, would you take Rhi upstairs? My room is the first door on the left."

Scott looked at Heather in confusion but Rhi smiled tightly and led the way. Behind them, she heard Heather say to Stiles, "Want to come grab a bottle of wine downstairs? This stuff isn't that good."

As Scott trailed behind Rhi, he heard her grumbling angrily. "Are you okay?" he asked. Rhi turned and saw Scott's concerned expression. She sighed.

"Boys are clueless." She said. They found her room, but a random couple was making out passionately on the bed. Rhi quickly shut the door and moved on. "I'll just wipe it off in the bathroom," she reasoned.

Scott checked his phone when it buzzed again. A notification displayed 'one message from Allison'.

"Hey, is it alright if I step out for a minute?" Scott asked. Rhi looked up at him and nodded.

"Yeah. Just don't disappear. I don't really know anyone here."

Scott nodded reassuringly. "I'll be right back."

Rhi sighed. She was alone. She took off her shirt and ran the stain under the water to scrub the fabric clean and muttered to herself about people who deserved to die.

All of a sudden, Stiles himself barreled inside and shut the door behind him. When he turned he ran straight into Rhi, who couldn't catch herself in time. "Woah!" he exclaimed, catching her by the waist and arm before they toppled over.

"Shouldn't you be in the basement?" Rhi asked. Stiles looked down at her partially naked body. His hands held her warm, bare skin. He jumped back red as ever.

"You sure do blush a lot." She commented, returning to her task of scrubbing the shirt clean. "W-w-what are you- I'm sorry! I didn't know--," he stammered. "It's fine. Nothing you haven't seen before, right?" She said, which only sent him further into stuttering embarrassment.

He looked at her as she wrung the shirt out and began to put it back on.

"Did you not find her room?" he asked. He was still breathing heavily from his quest to find a condom, but being alone with Rhi wearing nothing but a bra and his sweatpants seemed to take priority in his mind.

"Nah. Aren't you looking for something?" She asked, straightening herself out. She was wet now, but at least not soaked in mysterious alcohol. Stiles' eyes lit up at the reminder of what he was there for. Rhi opened the drawer for him. There, a box of XXL condoms sat. "Stay safe," she said as she opened the bathroom door and headed down the stairs to find Scott. Stiles reached for the box and then turned. Rhi opened the front door and much to her surprise, Stiles called her name. "Hey, where are you going?" he asked. She turned to him.

"To find Scott. Where are you going?" She asked, but he seemed to be following her out the front door.

"Where did Scott--," he started, but stopped as soon as he saw Allison, Lydia, and Scott on the front lawn. The two approached the trio.

"Allison, Lydia? What are you doing here?" Stiles asked.

The two girls looked concerned and had a serious air about them. Stiles quickly shoved the condoms in his pocket before anyone saw. "What happened?" He asked Lydia. Rhiannon noticed Lydia had a bandage over her forehead.

"Whose this?" Lydia asked, aprasing Rhiannon. Allison seemed to be doing the same. "This is Rhi. My dad is fostering her." "Fostering her?" Lydia asked severely. Rhi's eyes lingered on the bandage, but met the girls' scrutinous gaze.

Stiles nodded. Rhi shifted awkwardly. "I'll leave you guys to it-," Rhi started, but Allison quickly said, "It's alright. We were just leaving."

Allison looked to Scott, who nodded at her in some mutual understanding that Rhi wasn't included in.

Scott turned to Stiles and Rhiannon as the girls walked to their car. "What's up with them?" Stiles asked him. Scott glanced at Rhi.

"I'll tell you later." he said.

Rhi didn't know why but she felt embarrassed at the subtle exclusion. She needed to cut the silence as soon as possible, so she said the first thing that came to mind. "Stiles is gonna have sex with Heather." Rhi stated. It sounded childish coming out of her mouth. Stiles turned to Stiles incredulously. "What?" Scott exclaimed, a sudden smile blooming to his lips.

"Oh shit!" Stiles was hit with a realization, and turned and bolted inside.

Scott looked to Rhi for an explanation. She smiled and said, "He came into the bathroom looking for condoms."

He laughed. "No way." he said as they walked back inside. He was clearly ecstatic for his friend.

Rhiannon smirked and rolled her eyes. As they walked back into the party, though, Heather's friend approached them. "Hey, do you know where Heather is?" She asked. Rhi's stomach dropped. For the first time, Rhi realized what was truly happening.

"No, why?" Scott asked. "We haven't seen her. Do you know where Stiles is?" She asked looking around.

"He's in the-," Scott started, but then Stiles appeared from the basement with a look of confusion on her face.

"Heather wasn't down there." He said, sounding deeply disappointed.

"She probably went to find someone else to lose her virginity to," the friend added, turning back to her friends without a care in the world. Stiles was taken aback in offense. Scott stifled a laugh.

It didn't occur to any of them to be weary. It seemed so innocent-- Heather had just gone somewhere else. At her own party. Rhi's stomach turned over and she gripped the wet spot on her shirt.

Rhi couldn't stop herself as she said, "Wait! Are you sure she's okay? I mean-..." they all looked at her, "What if she's in trouble?"

Heather's friend scoffed as if it were the silliest thing in the world. "She's fine. She barely even had anything to drink anyway. I'll find her eventually." And with that the conversation was over. But you won't. You won't find her.

Before that moment it had all seemed like she was outside her own body staring down at this world from somewhere else. Like what she did and said didn't really matter in the end. Like this plot was something she had nothing to do with and no control over.

Except, Lydia had a cut on her forehead when she saw her just moments ago. One that wasn't there in the original plot of the story. When had Lydia gotten a forehead injury?

Upon the sight of it, Rhi had realized the truth. Somehow, her actions had an impact on this story. The butterfly effect could change everything. Even her barest of interactions could have drastic effects on what she knew to be true here.

And if that were true, then it meant she had indirectly allowed Heather to die. Without stepping in and helping when she had the chance, had Rhi been compliant in her murder?

She remembered sarcastically grumbling about the Heather's mean behavior from earlier. That seemed so long ago now in the face of the truth. This wasn't just a story anymore. This was her reality. And she had the power to change it.

"I- I don't know." Rhi said quickly to Scott and Stiles. "I don't know how to explain it, but something feels off."

Scott and Stiles met eyes and then turned back to her. Stiles sighed out his disappointment at his own fumble with Heather.

"Don't worry. Just an average day for me." He said, thinking Rhi was feeling guilty for indirectly cockblocking him (even though she hadn't in the slightest. Stiles had done that to himself.) "I'm not exactly smooth with the ladies."

Scott patted his friend on the shoulder and they lead Rhiannon back outside toward the direction of the car. "Don't you think we should find her?" Rhi asked desperately as she fell behind them. "Nah. Her friends will do that just fine. Besides, I don't think we really want to." Stiles said without hiding his disappointment as he alluded to the inappropriate activities Heather was probably partaking in currently.

Rhi stopped for a moment, her mind racing. She couldn't convince them unless she told them the truth. But what then? Would they be able to help Heather, or was it too late? Would they blame her for not saying something sooner? Maybe if they knew about her situation, they could somehow get her back home. But then wouldn't she be dragging herself into a story where she didn't belong? Opening up a new conflict that they didn't have room for? If she told them the truth, she could possibly prevent them from helping those in need? What if her attempt to save one person resulted in a domino effect that hurt many more?

Even more tormenting was the thought of changing the plot enough to not know what was coming next. To alter the timeline and leave her unable to help them in the future when it really mattered. Unable to help herself. When it really mattered.

The memory of seeing Allison for the first time flashed in her mind. She was beautiful in person. Prettier than Rhi thought of herself, which was rare because Rhiannon thought herself to be quite beautiful. And if it weren't for the white bandage across Lydia's forehead, she would have been a sight for sore eyes too.

She recalled the look in Scott's eyes as he gazed longingly at Allison. It was only for moments, but Rhi felt like she knew them. She could see Scott holding Allison's lifeless body. See him blame himself for her death.

Rhi could save her. If she planned it out well enough, she could save her.

Rhi clenched her fists. In that moment she made the difficult decision. It weighed on her shoulders despite herself. She followed the boys down the sidewalk. She ignored the idea of Heather being sacrificed.

She got into the jeep without a word.

===

Notes: Thank you all for reading.