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takaraphoenix · 3 months ago

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Camping & Bonding (Part 5)

Tags: m/m, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, Jackson Doesn't Leave, Pack Mom Stiles, Pack Feels, True Mates, fluff, hurt/comfort, camping, mutual pining, m/f

Main Pairing: Derek/Stiles

Side Pairings: Scott/Allison, Boyd/Erica, Jackson/Lydia

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Derek Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd III, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Cora Hale, Scott McCall, Allison Argent

@writersmonth Prompts Part 5: glow + lake

Summary: Stiles thinks the pack should go camping, as a bonding exercise. Much to his surprise, Derek agrees with his plan. So the pack goes off into the mountains to camp together.

This Fic on AO3 | This Fic on FFNet

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

–

Part 5: The End

Going to bed that night was just a little more awkward than the night before, somehow. Snuggling with his crush was one thing, but snuggling with his new boyfriend of literally less than one day? Stiles was so flustered when he got changed, his eyes flitting over to Derek all the time.

"Stiles," Derek growled softly, near reassuring somehow. "It's okay. We're just… going to bed. If… If it makes you uncomfortable, we can sleep apart-"

"No," Stiles wiggled his nose, blushing even harder. "I do like the cuddling I just… I have never cuddled with a boyfriend before. Much less a mate."

A small noise came from Derek that sounded wondrous. "Okay. You know that we will figure all of this out together, right? I mean all of it. I don't exactly have a track-record of well-going, healthy relationships either so I don't have… that much more experience than you either, honestly…"

Stiles blinked as he took in how sheepish and awkward Derek looked. Sometimes, when Derek was being all growly, bossy and confident, it was easy to forget that Derek wasn't that much older than Stiles either and that he has had two relationships that had both ended in absolute disaster. Reaching out, Stiles rested his hand on Derek's, caressing it gently and squeezing it in reassurance.

"We'll figure it out together," Stiles grinned and pecked Derek's cheek.

He got a rare smile from Derek. The kind that made Stiles feel soft and like jelly. Heaving a sigh, Stiles collapsed against Derek's chest, forcing the werewolf down onto the ground – well, more like suggesting it and Derek went along with it to humor him.

"I love you," Derek's voice was muffled by Stiles' hair as he had his nose buried in it. "I never expected you, or anyone like you. But you are… my compliment."

"Shut up," Stiles' voice was muffled by Derek's chest.

He had his face buried in it, rubbing his nose along Derek's collarbone. Derek was his boyfriend now. Derek was his mate now. Stiles huffed out a small laugh that got him a curious noise from Derek. The Alpha's hands were running over Stiles' back, gentle and soothing.

"It's just…" Stiles tilted his head up to look at Derek. "I kind of did plan this camping trip to confront you about a few things, in a moment of peace like… right now. I have been growing more and more suspicious of the betas' behavior. How they listen to me, how they behave around me. I just… I really didn't see it, huh. I mean, I know about pack dynamics. I read up on them. I taught most of the betas about them. How did I not see that I'm the Alpha Mate."

"Because you didn't expect it?" Derek suggested after a moment. "You're good at picking up clues, most of the time you pick them up before you even know what they could mean. Your instincts are great. But you don't have all of the answers either, Stiles."

Stiles grumbled at that with a slight pout. "Still. I know what the Alpha Mate does. I should have been able to put the evidence into context."

"You're… cute… when you're frustrated," Derek grinned ever so slightly.

When Stiles glared at him, Derek kissed him so softly that it melted the glare. Derek was probably right. Stiles had not seen any reality where Derek might love him, much less him being Derek's mate and that was kind of the whole point of the Alpha Mate. Still, it bugged him that he didn't figure this out on his own. Curling together, Stiles got more comfortable on top of Derek's chest.

"Did you have any plans for tomorrow?" Derek asked after a stretch of silence.

"Mhmh," Stiles started to feel too sleepy for talking. "Swimming. Lake."

Derek huffed at the lack of sentences and pressed a kiss to the top of Stiles' head. Accepting that that was it for tonight. They both relaxed in each other's arms and drifted off to sleep.

/break\

After yet another successful breakfast, the pack headed toward the lake where the creek led to, all dressed in bathing suits and swim-trunks. Stiles could not take his eyes off of Derek. Shirtless Derek was one of his favorite things to look at. He licked his lips.

"You are disgusting, Stilinski," Jackson commented. "Stop drooling over our Alpha."

The comment was lacking any heat. If anything, the look on Jackson's face was more that of a kid who wanted his parents to stop the PDA, which just cracked Stiles up so hard. Just to piss the beta off, Stiles walked over to Derek and pulled him into a kiss, his hands sprawled out on Derek's chest. Erica was whistling in the background, Cora and Jackson were gagging.

"Your betas are a bunch of children," Stiles commented dryly. "You deserve it, for turning teenagers. I, however, truly do not deserve this."

Derek huffed out a laugh and wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist to keep him in place, keep him close. The weather today was surprisingly warm for an autumn day, which made it perfect. The first one to jump into the lake was Isaac, closely followed by the other boys and Erica. Lydia and Allison opted to sunbathe, now that there was some actual sun out. And Cora simply walked into the water instead of jumping off the cliff. Stiles sat down with Scott and Allison for a bit, watching how Derek went to jump in after his betas, after some teasing comments about a 'chicken Alpha'.

"You look happy," Allison smiled, nudging Stiles.

"I… am," Stiles whispered, his own smile very soft.

And it wasn't just about Derek. Yes, he loved Derek and he couldn't believe that Derek was his now, but it was about so much more. Being the squishy pack human had, at times, given him self-doubt. Sure, he contributed a lot with his research alone, but when it came to a physical fight? The werewolves always worried so much about keeping him and Lydia safe, it made him feel guilty. Lydia was taking self-defense lessons too, as tired of this as Stiles, and even Lydia had her Banshee powers to aid in a fight if push came to shove. The Alpha Mate though, that was… that was special. He had a special place in the pack, he wasn't just the human that needed protection.

"You look so pretty in that bikini," Scott had a dopey grin on his face as he walked over to them and collapsed right behind Allison, pulling her close. "This trip was an awesome idea."

Allison smiled and leaned back against her mate's chest, relaxing. "Yeah, it was."

Stiles preened a little at the praise of his idea. He relaxed and laid down, taking out the book he'd brought to read at the lake. At least until the betas grew more demanding and Isaac and Scott grabbed him by the wrists to pull him up and toward the lake. Stiles made half-hearted protests and let himself be pushed into the water. It was freezing cold and he shuddered and gasped when he resurfaced. A smile spread over his lips as he saw the entire pack in the water, playing and laughing. It made his heart feel weirdly full. They had each other, they were a pack, a real pack.

They stayed at the lake until it was late evening and the setting sun bathed the water in a soft orange glow that seemed to fit the autumn atmosphere. It was the perfect ending to their trip.

/break\

"This was fun," Boyd's voice was a soft whisper, his knee bumping against Stiles'. "We should do it more often, going on a camping trip somewhere. Maybe just weekends."

"Yeah," Stiles turned to grin at him. "Yeah, we should."

Erica was on Boyd's other side, having fallen asleep after dinner, leaning heavily against her mate. Boyd's arm was around her, holding her close and making sure she didn't fall over. They'd made dinner and eaten together and gathered around the bonfire one last time, all of them. Telling stories and laughing with each other and a part of Stiles didn't want it to end, ever. So the idea of doing it more often, yeah, he really liked that.

/break\

Very early the next morning, they packed everything up and filed back into the cars in the same constellations as they had driven there. There was so much comfort in the air as they drove home, everyone seemed more subdued than when they had arrived, but it was a comfortable kind.

"Good night, guys," Stiles grinned as he dropped Scott and Allison off.

Because Scott wanted to say proper goodbye to his mate so he decided to walk the rest of the way to his own home after getting some alone-time with Allison, after Stiles had once again so 'rudely' separated them to avoid lengthy make-out sessions. He'd already dropped Lydia off at home, meaning it was time to get home himself. He heaved a soft sigh when he noticed the lights were out and his dad's car wasn't there. Something about the past few days left him longing for company. It had been such a high to be with them all like that, the soft, warm sense of pack. To come home to a cold, empty house with nobody to talk to or be tactile with was… jarring.

Making his way upstairs, he sulked just a little bit. When he opened his bedroom door, he let out a startled screech at the moving shape on his bed. His heart was still hammering hard in his chest when he turned on the light. A glare etched into his features.

"Door! We have a door! Why do you-" Stiles huffed and threw his hands up. "Windows are not special werewolf doors, you are going to give me a heart-attack one of these days!"

Derek, sprawled out on his bed, looked mostly annoyed that Stiles had turned on the light. Rude asshole. Why did Stiles love this bastard. Glaring one last time, Stiles dumped his bag in a corner and the shrugged out of his jeans before collapsing on his bed, right next to Derek.

"Why are you even here?" Stiles asked softly. "We saw each other three hours ago."

"Mh," Derek looked displeased. "Went home. Bed too… not smelling like you."

Oh. Right. Mates that just got together. Wolves had a high draw to their mate and after having spent the last couple nights cuddled up to each other, it must be jarring for Derek to go back to his house that only moderately smelt like Stiles and his bedroom that absolutely did not smell like Stiles at all because Stiles had never been in there, he wasn't crazy enough to go into an unmated wolf's bedroom, he knew how territorial they were. A small smile spread over his lips as he realized his Sourwolf had been pining and had then decided to come to his house, because that was where all of that good Stiles scent was stored. Rubbing his cheek against Derek's, Stiles snuggled close.

"If you want, I could come over tomorrow to roll around in your bed."

"Don't make fun of me, Stiles," Derek growled annoyed.

"I'm not. It's a genuine offer," Stiles chuckled. "I know about werewolf instincts. So, if you want me to make your room smell more like me, I could come over."

The Alpha blinked a couple times, staring at his mate. He made a pleased rumbling noise in his chest, nosing at Stiles' neck. Affectionate, giant puppy. Stiles huffed fondly, running his fingers through Derek's hair. This was definitely a side of the Alpha that he liked seeing.

"Thank you," Derek's voice sounded gruff and was muffled by the pillow as they were both squished into the bed. "I think this get-away was exactly what the pack needed."

A proud smile spread over Stiles' lips at that and he tightened his arms around the werewolf. "That's what the Alpha Mate does. Take care of the pack and help out their fearless, strong, capable leader."

Derek squinted at him. "There's sarcasm in there. It's subtle but I can still hear it."

Stiles smirked teasingly at Derek and kissed his boyfriend's cheek, because he now could kiss his boyfriend because Derek was his boyfriend. He tried not to gloat, but honestly, why shouldn't he. Closing his eyes, he nuzzled into Derek's chest and got more comfortable. He was glad that Derek had come here tonight because he hadn't wanted to be alone either.

~*~ The End ~*~

#Fic: Camping & Bonding #Sterek #Sterek Fic #Teen Wolf #Stiles Stilinski #Derek Hale #Pack Mom Stiles #Fluff #Phoe's Fics #Stiles Summer Stories 2024

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aloneatpeace · 5 months ago

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Cosmic Chaos

Chapter 21

Stiles gets out of his jeep and speed walks towards you “hopefully your filed trip ended because we got a lot to catch up.” He doesn’t wait for you to say anything taking your hands in his he starts to pull towards his jeep.

“Stiles wait!”

Sam and dean also straighten up “yeah hold your horses buddy.” Dean says

Stiles turn to them with a lost look on his face “sorry, we have really really urgent matters to discuss.”

You sigh grabbing on to his arms halting him his place “Stiles they know.” stiles head whips towards you he leans towards you his forehead touching yours as he whispers.

“What you mean, like know what we know, are we talking about the same thing.” Stile’s frown “how did you get that?” he points at the dried blood and now freshly formed scar on forehead of yours.

You lift your point finger and lightly pushes stiles face away from yours “yeah, they’re hunters. I’m fine it’s nothing.”

Stiles nod in understanding before exploding with loud yell that make you and the Winchester brothers to wince at the loudness of his voice, stiles arms wrap around yours and inches away from the brothers his eyes trained on the brothers with a glare that made the eldest Winchester to sigh in annoyance. “What do you want her?”

“Stiles, they are good one, grams introduced me to them, we even went to wendigo hunt.” You speak up breaking away from his grip. Though stiles still have his hands on you.

“What?”

“Yeah, we killed the wendigo you don’t have to worry about that.” sam says with hoping to calm your friend.

Stiles eyes sparkled a smile break into his face he pushes you away “There is dead body here, a wendigos dead body.!”

Sam and dean glance at each other the sudden shift of mood of the male in front of them maybe be sam shouldn’t have mentioned that.

“that’s so sick, can I see?” stiles turn to you “why didn’t you bring we with you. wait do they know about your?” stiles vigorously motion his hands.

“No, stiles, yes, they know about me. And behave new people remember.” Your shoulders slumping stiles nod before turning.

“Hi, I’m stiles her best friend” he eagerly smiles at Winchester brothers his hands out to shake it sam and dean shake stiles hands warily, introducing themselves respectively.

Sam and dean nod “if you need anything just give us a call” the oldest Winchester says “Your grams have our number.” The younger Winchester added.

“Now that you guys know, who the alpha is be more cautious” Sam suggested taking his hands out of his pockets.

"I will, you guys are professionals. We could use your help."

“Yeah, I’ll text too.” Stiles said.Dean close his eyes “please don’t” he mutters.

“How much do you know about supernatural creatures?” stiles continue.

“They know more than we know stiles, it’s their family business.”

Stiles mouth forms into ‘o’ shape “like the Argents.?”

Dean shrug “Kind of but it just the two few of us and we know how to hunt almost everything.”

“That’s amazing” stiles had wide smile on his face and his eyes shining.

“I can see why the two of you are best friends” dean whispers under his breath in amusement.

“We should get going now, stiles?”

Stile’s nod “Yeah, we need to get to scott fill him in on everything.”

“It was nice meeting you two, you both are amazing.” You smiled glancing back and forth between the Winchester brothers.

Dean grin at you “glad you think so sweetheart, wouldn’t want a pretty girl to think badly about me” he dismisses Sam’s bitch face.

“You’re shameless, dean Winchester” you tease nudging his side.

“I think I’m adorable” he quickly recounter smiling when he sees you smile as well “all jokes aside call us when you need us.” He adds.

You nod and turns to sam “Are you guys going straight to the next hunt?”

Sam nod “We aren’t injured badly so I think we can take them down.” Dean nod at Sam’s words. An apathic look on your face has sam sigh “Don’t beat up your self for what happened back there.” opening his arms Sam smile at you before wrapping his arms around you leaning down to meet you. “Take care of yourself.”

He pulls away with squeeze “you too” you say after giving the brothers final glance you leave pulling stiles away towards the jeep.

Sam smile at you watching you and stiles leave while dean lean against his impala with content expression.

“that’s a cool car by the way” stiles yell making dean smirk in pride.

“Do you think derek’s going to be alright?” you ask as stiles starts the jeep

He shrugs “yeah no I don’t think we can get rid of him that easily.”

“Stiles.”

“fine”

You and stiles run through school hallway searching for scott on the way recounting about your encounter with a wendigo.

“So, the three of you get yeeted in air by that thing and you can heal people.” stiles theorized you hums in agreement. Stiles falls silent when danny comes out of boy’s locker room.

“Where did the two of you went?” he asks “you missed the game and you didn’t even come.” He said looking at you waiting for explanation.

Stiles roll his eyes “She had an appointment with her gynecologist, is scott in there.” He asked hurriedly.

“Don’t try to fool with her vagina, her ass scared to get go anywhere near a gynecologist after watching jane the virgin.” Danny remarked.

You gasp in horror at their banter.

“Is that what you two talk about all the time?” stiles blurred with a confused look on his face finding scott long forgotten.

“Okey, what the fuck is wrong is you two. Don’t talk to me for two to four businesses days.” You roughly push stiles and danny away entering the locker room.

Scoot stands up from the bench with towel around his waist, he probably heard your conversation, sighing you sit down “Not a word” you say before scott can ask you is that where you really went.

He nods before leaning towards you sniffing the air around you “I smell blood, gunpowder and cheeseburgers”

You back away “dude put some clothes on before you do that” you point at his naked chest “Yeah, a lot happened.”

Stiles comes in and sit down next you “did you really mean that.”

“Yeah, now shush stiles.”

“Peter hale is the alpha” you said without waiting any minute scott eyes widen at the he turns towards you and stiles.

“What?”

Stile nod before nonchalantly adding “and derek might be actually dead right now?”

“Wait, what?”

Stiles side eyes at scott “say something other than what.”

“Ha? Wait... hold on does that mean.” Scott trails off.

You cross your legs over the other “yep, he killed his niece to become an alpha also in order to regain his strength from being half burned and now probably on his way collect his beta which you and kill us all.”

“This couldn’t get any worse.” Stiles remarked.

“You know me very well don’t you” a husky voice commented from the dark the and a shadow of comes into your vision scott strengthen up and stiles gulp recognizing the voice scotting closer towards you.

“I really don't get lacrosse... When I was in high school, we played basketball. There's a real sport. Still, I read somewhere that lacrosse comes from Native American tribes, and that they played it to resolve conflict. Do I have that right?” he takes the lacrosse stick looking over it. “Hmm... I have a little conflict of me own to resolve, Scott... But I need your help to do it.”

“I'm not helping you kill people.” scott firmly states stalking towards peter without a fear as you and stiles watch the exchange from behind scott.

“Well, I don't want to kill all of them-- just the responsible ones. And that doesn't have to include...”

“Allison.” With a sigh derek step out the dark he doesn’t glance at the two of you his eyes fixed on scott though he can feel your disappointed glance.

“Why is he alive?” stiles whisper into your ears making derek close his eyes but he doesn’t turn towards the both you.

Scott looked incredulously at derek “You're on his side? Are you forgetting the part where he killed your sister?”

“It was a mistake...” derek mumble making the three of you stands shellshocked how easily derek sided with peter dismissing the fact his sister killer.

“What?” the three of you says in sync

“It happens...”

“Is he for real?” stiles mumble again.

Peter glance at two of you before turning to scott “Scott, I think you're getting the wrong impression of us. We just really want to help you reach your full potential.”

“By killing my friends?” he said scoffing at peter ridiculous reasoning

“Not all of them” peter eyes fall on you making you tilt your head at him with watchful gaze on him stiles gulps holding on to your hands while scoot and derek throw suspicions glance at peter “Sometimes the people closest to you can be the ones holding you back the most.”

“If they're holding me back from becoming a psychotic nut-job like you, I'm okay with that.”

“Maybe... you could try and see things from my perspective...” peter lunch towards scott with his claws out you yell at scott moving towards him but derek grab on you.

“He just wants to show scott what happened to us.” Derek said holding the two of you back from getting hurt from peter or you interpreting peter he’s not sure.

Peter dug his claws into the back of scott’s neck, scott wither his legs gives out, you glare at derek “let go now” derek look down at you before he knows he’s getting thrown across the locker room.

The red glow swirl around in your palm scott grunt in pain peter sticking his claws deep into his skin “hands off”.

Derek grunt from where he’s thrown in and before he can stand peter joins him wincing in pain, his claws had retread back to normal. “I forgot how painful it is.”

“Shut up”

You crouch down next scott stiles joins beside you with worried eyes his hands shaking your hands get bloody when you cup his neck scott wince, a green glow emits around your palm and scott relax he blinks his tears away “you alright?” panting he nods at you.

Stiles and you pull scott to sit up on the ground, peter and derek stands up walking towards the three of you.

Peter calls your name “I have no intention to hurt innocents, I was merely showing him what happened.”

“Oh really, then what about the Laura or the janitor. What did they do?” you taunted livid with his actions “and what about my friends that you’re planning to kill, how that you killing all argents is reasonable?”

Peter clench his jaw before compressing himself he crouches down your level and gives you a strained smile. “Did you know that they were humans were also burned to death in that fire, children they were innocents, and let me tell you the Argents are far from that. They are killers.”

“What happened to you two was wrong but that doesn’t give you pass to kill us. You already killed those who are part of it the whole Argent family is not the reason.” You argued stiles behind you tug your arms seeing how your words made both hales to look murderous.

“Didn’t Chris Argent threated to kill you, scott? didn’t he even shoot you one time.?” peter ponder looking at scoot who glare at him.

“Chris Argent is innocent it wasn’t him it- “you stop in midway, derek and peter caught your words as they look at you with narrowed eye.

The three-werewolf glance at the hallway, peter stands up “Seems like we have to cut this short.” He dusts himself off “you’re my beta scott like it or not we are bounded together.”

The three of sits on the ground “dude we are fucked.” Stiles mumbles

“Trust me…I know.”

The next morning you and lydia and Allison meet up at the grill, sipping on the beverages that you all ordered for yourself.

“So, Halloween party coming up do you guys have your costumes readied?” you ask putting down your ring.

“what’s the point I planned to do couple costume and jackson dumbed over text.” Lydia crosses her arms over chest.

“Right.” you hum “did he actually do that? Why all of sudden though.”

“Jackson gone nuts. What else.”

“Don’t be sad, you can wear the sluttiest thing now look on the Brightside” you smirk at her shaking her hands she slowly breaks into a smile

“Jackson gonna wish he didn’t break up with me”

“that’s the spirt and this is Allison first Halloween here. What are you going to be.?” You continue

Allison bites her lips “maybe huntress?” she shyly says.

“Any specific reasons why?” you fidget with your straw waiting for allison’s answer.

“Nothing really, my ancestors were hunters who hunted down beast like werewolf and stuff.” She answers.

“Then you can be witch.” Lydia said looking at you. “Since you know obvious reasons.”

You shake your head “bonnie is the witch this year.” You take a sip of your drink “I’ll figure out something, you two should go together, make jackson and scott jealous or some shit.”

Allison tucks her hair behind her ears “jackson said he will go with for the party.” She admits “that is if you're okay with it” she glances at lydia.

“Did he?” lydia did good job masking her anger with her false clam face but you sense her anger and sadness sweep out of her.”

“Uh-huh. Just as friends. But I just wanted to make sure you're okay with it, first.”

Lydia hesitantly nod “Sure. As long as it's just friends.

“Well, yeah. I mean, it's not like I would take him to the coach's office during lacrosse practice to make out with him or anything...” Allison said cooly that you almost choked on your drink.

Lydia sits anxiously unable to form words, you sigh at two “You know, you two should work out that, I’m gonna go.”

On cue your phone rings stiles Id showing you stands up “you know girls should stick together a girl friend is so better than million boyfriends I’m not saying you shouldn’t go out or anything, just stick together alright and call me if you guys need anything.”

You stand behind table and bring them into hug “You guys are too pretty for any of them” you press loud kiss on both of their cheeks before leaving.

“So, what do we do with jackson??” stiles ask from the drivers seat the three of had been following jackson for good minute.

“Well, since he wants the bite and he already threatened scott to get him bite he’s not going to listen to us.” You say sitting between scott and stiles.

“I say we let get bite and be haunted by the Argents.” Stiles offers frowning when you raise your eyebrow at him “what it’s not like I’m gonna miss him or something.”

“We will talk to him first, there is nothings else we can do to change his mind, we are lucky jackson doesn’t knows about your powers.” Scott said with looking out the window.

“Scott you can’t save everyone.” You stated making scott glance at you the words seem to make him anxious. “If jackson goes to derek or peter, they will turn him and we can’t do nothing about it.”

Scott and stiles eyes nervously regard what you said “Well let’s hope, he doesn’t meet them.” stiles weakly offer with strained smile.

Jackson gets out his car slamming it shut loudly in empty parking lot he doesn’t trust scott help him get a bite seems like he needs to find a way to get it himself with a sigh he leans against his car look at his watch he takes out his phone ready call tow truck.

A black SUV pulls up in front of him and Chris Argent get out the driver seat with smile making jackson falter “Car trouble?”

“It's okay. I'm just gonna call a tow truck.” Jackson waves his phone nervously as Chris starts to gets gears to take look at Jackson’s car to see what caused the trouble.

Chris smile at jackson opening the hood of the car “Oh, I know a few things about cars. Could be something simple.”

“I don't know... I mean, it's a pretty expensive car, and they pull all this warranty crap if you do your own repairs, right?”

Chris smirks at the boys attempts to get him leave him alone “Well, I won't tell if you won't.” Chris went to the back of the car “It's Jackson, right? Come here. I'll show you what to look for.” Jackson knowing there is no way to escape and not make him look more suspicious than he already does walks towards Chris hesitantly. When looking down Chirs sees Jackson’s scratch his back of his neck, he lowers Jackson’s collar to see it more clearly

“Oh, sorry!” Chris says when jackson gets startled by him

“What?” his voice came out Shakey

“Your neck. You hurt yourself?” Chris asks with frown on his lips catching jackson eyes nervously shifting avoiding looking at his eyes.

Jackson evasively says “No. I mean, it's just-just a scratch.”

“Well, it looks like more than a scratch. Kinda looks like claw marks.” Chris makes jackson look at with unblinking focused eye contact makes jackson more nervous “You all, right?”

“Yeah. Look, I'm just gonna call for a tow truck, okay?” jackson dismiss his words ready to dial the number and get away from Chris Argent.

“Is there any reason you're so reluctant to tell me what it was that did that?” Chris Argents friendly smile long gone the whole façade turning into that of serious one jackson grip on his phone tighten.

Just then a loud honk catches their attention when a blue jeep comes stopping in front of them stiles throw his hands out waving at jackson “What's up?”

“Is everything okay?” scott asks innocently

you ask poking your head out and wave at Chris Argent he nods at you

“Hey, Scott. Your friend here was just having car trouble. We're just taking a look.”

“There's a shop right down the street. I'm sure they have a tow truck.” Scott says as Chris Argent goes back to check the car again

“Yeah. You want a ride?” stiles asks but jackson hesitate considering his options. You push scott back lightly leaning towards to look at jackson.

“Come on in, jackson.” You nod at jackson looking at him in the eyes he nods back

“Hey, come on, Jackson-- you're way too pretty to be out here all by yourself.” Stiles lazily encourage him from the driver’s seat.

You motion him to come closer jackson compiles moving towards them just as Chris shut the hood “Hey, boys?” he comes to Jackson’s driver side and turns the key the car roar into life “Told you I knew a few things about cars.”

Scott had already got out of the car as Chris Argent makes way to his car you get out the car “Mr. Argent can you drop me off on your way, the boys said they wanna catch up on yesterday’s games.” You turn to them “isn’t that right guys.” You mouth them to say yes and they silently nod.

Chris Argent held your gaze with calculating look before nodding you bid your friends by good bye before getting in Chris Argent’s car.

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endwersed · 7 months ago

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WIP Whenever

Tagged by the lovelies that are @dear-massacre & @violetfairydust 💘

Here's a little snippet from my main WIP: an ABO humans-as-second-class-citizens AU 😊

“Um, yeah,” Stiles stutters out, trying not to cringe at the strength of Talia's grip. “That’s... hi. It’s nice to, uh – to be here, too.”

Her painted mouth is pursed as she releases his hand, and he quickly tucks it behind his back, flexing his sore fingers out of sight from her appraising stare. There is an almost regal posture to her as she stands, her shoulders drawn back and her torso stretched out, her hands clasped together in front of her stomach. It makes him want to shrink a little, to be honest, but he fights that instinct back down.

“Yes, I can imagine,” she says primly, before letting her gaze drift to his side, where it lands heavily on her eldest daughter. “And has my Laura been behaving herself?”

Not really, he thinks.

“Yeah, absolutely,” he says out loud, smiling briefly at Laura with a tip of his head. “She’s been nice enough to start showing me around the place.”

Laura smirks back at him. “I’m a regular one-woman welcoming committee.”

Talia hums, narrowing her gaze towards Laura for a moment.

“Yes. Quite.” The corners of her eyes crinkle as she pulls her focus back to him. It should be a kind expression, of laughter lines and etchings of joy, but instead of any of that, it just seems disingenuous. “So, Mr Stilinski. You graduated high school last month, is that correct?”

He nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And you’ll be starting college after your time with us here?” she presses.

“Nursing school,” he corrects carefully. “I have a place locally back in Beacon Hills.”

Talia’s smile, perfectly perfunctory at best up until this point, suddenly shifts into something actually like real. Her teeth flash, and there is a certain sharkish quality to it that makes his heart want to miss a beat in his chest, because it’s nothing like Laura’s specific brand of vibrant cheekiness.

No. With Talia, it’s almost… malevolent.

Huh, he thinks. He’s never noticed that before, when he’s seen her photographs in the papers.

“My son is due to begin medical school in the fall,” she announces proudly, and he doesn’t miss the way that Cora rolls her eyes down at the floor, just behind her mother's vision. “My boy, Derek. I imagine you’ve heard of him.”

Oh – Stiles has heard of him, all right. Being the only son and the only alpha, and with his dashing good looks and notoriously bad attitude, Derek Hale is by far the most well-known of all of the Hale children. And that – that is saying something, considering how much press time Laura and Cora get.

For sure, Stiles knows precisely who he is.

Also, he may or may not have jerked off to a shirtless picture or two (or twenty) that the paparazzi managed to snap of the guy at a private beach about a year back, too.

Obviously, he does not say this part out loud to the guy's mother.

“Yep,” he says instead, nodding slightly. “That’s, uh… great. For him.”

“Yes, it is.” There is a sharpness to her tone that implies she is not at all impressed with Stiles’ underwhelming levels of enthusiasm. He ducks his head and shuffles under the discomfort. “Well. I should let you and dear Laura get back to your tour. I do hope you enjoy your stay with us here, Mr Stilinski.”

“Thank you,” he hastens to reply. “I – I’m sure I will.”

No pressure at all tags! @aurevell @crownofstardustandbone @hedwig221b @lucky-bishop @thotpuppy

#sterek #my fic #talia is the bad guy in this one so apols to any fans #i just really enjoy exploring the idea that derek being a mama's boy is actually a Bad Thing

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princeescaluswords · 1 year ago

Note

Currently thinking of certain factions of fandom who tend to demonize Laura Hale. What exactly did she do that was so awful?

Leaving her injured and catatonic uncle in a care facility? Do they think he would've miraculously healed in New York if she brought him along (if that was even an option)? They seem to think she abandoned him or should've done more. What exactly, dear fandom?

Laura was a young woman who suffered a devastating loss and had to be the leader and look out for her younger brother and injured uncle. Cora was assumed dead too. Similar to Scott, she didn't ask to be alpha.

What did they expect her to do? Wage war against the perpetrators? She didn't know who was involved but she did return when Peter lured her. Fandom thinks she was unfit for the role of alpha because she wasn't ripping throats out and hunting down culprits, that she ~abandoned~ her uncle in a vulnerable state, blah blah.

The way they get angry at Scott disobeying Peter and Derek, you'd think they'd be livid over Peter killing his alpha who was also his niece who was the ~heir~ to Talia. Sacrilege!

Scott didn't ~trust~ Stiles? Well, Petey didn't trust his alpha! Why the secrecy? Why not report in immediately upon gaining consciousness?

*dons the stylish hat of Fandom Logic* Oh, oh Peter was involved in the Hale Fire! He always craved the mantle of alpha and needed Talia out of the way. But he got betrayed by Kate in the end and locked in with the rest of the family. That's why he insisted he's always been the alpha, he was promised the power if he helped destroy the pack. It's why he lured Laura back and killed her instead of communicating, he just wanted the power.

Your question puts me in mind of an argument both This Discontented Winter and Athena Dark have made to counter my indictments of fandoms worship of Peter Hale. To paraphrase TDW, "does all entertainment have to be a morality play?"

The simplistic answer to their bad faith riposte, is "No, it doesn't." You can watch two people sit in a room and not talk to each other. You can watch art hang motionless on a wall or paint dry, but these wouldn't be particularly popular forms of visual entertainment. What excites an audience is how the actors, the characters, the players treat each other, which is governed by principles concerning the distinction between right and wrong or good and bad behavior. In other words, morality.

People watch the Real Housewives franchise because they want to watch rich women behaving badly. People watch John Wick movies because they want to watch ultra violence performed without regard for human life and instead operate on a different code of behavior. Telenovelas, true crime documentaries, space operas, super hero movies -- all the pleasure their audiences gain from it revolve around decisions people make about how to treat each other. They watch it FOR the morality -- or the LACK of it.

The only forms of modern entertainment I can think of that don't focus on morality are professional sports and talent shows, and both of these take it as a given that neither side is cheating. Even Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom proposed to show us the behavior of animals so we can recognize their beauty and right to exist. My apologies to the BNF, but that's morality, too.

When This Discontented Winter bemoans the idea of all entertainment as morality play and Athena Dark that storytelling doesn't have to have a message, what they are in fact arguing for is the ability to celebrate evil. To freely indulge in the type of moral equivocation that allows them to take pleasure in the triumph of a man murdering his niece for power. You know how I know this, because if they truly wanted to enjoy something without the moral dimension, they wouldn't go to such great lengths to protect their blorbos from any moral condemnation.

Thus, we get the idea that Laura deserved death because she abandoned Peter in the long-term care facility, in which he rested safely for six years without the Argents even being aware of his location. We get the idea that Laura deserved death because she didn't seek vengeance for her family, even though she was absolutely looking for the person responsible for the death of her family -- we saw actual physical evidence of it. Thus we get the idea that Peter had no idea what he was doing, that he was out of his mind, only to find out later -- when none of the other characters believe that anymore -- that he was aware of what he was doing all along.

Remember Master Plan (2x12):

Peter: No. It's a laptop. What century are you living in? A few days after I got out of the coma, I transferred everything that we had. Fortunately, the Argents aren't the only ones that keep records.

Wow, that's a remarkable amount of foresight for a person who was supposedly so out of his mind that he shouldn't be held responsible for what he did.

The true problem with BNF trying to argue that we don't have to approach the show with an eye toward morality is because the show absolutely did. It was baked into the substance of the show from the get go. The characters are formed to make choices about how they treat other people. To use their own words, we have to treat the entertainment that is called Teen Wolf as a morality play because it IS a morality play. Every story is.

And this is the problem with fandom, which I've noted again and again and again in regards to Star Wars, Shadow and Bone, and now Loki. They want to extract the characters from the moral schema in which they were situated and put them in a new situation, yet pretend that there isn't a moral dimension to this act. And there is, because this new situation is one where only certain considerations are treated as valid, mostly exploitation of the baser instincts of human nature for the benefit of a very small class of stand-ins, defined by race, class, and gender.

#anti peter hale #fandom problems #fandom racism #fandom misogyny

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asterias-record-shop · 2 years ago

Text

—𓆩[shuffle play]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist!]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

OMG GUYS GUYS GUYS! I really want to have some fun with some stuff here, and I really want to hear more from you guys! So, let me introduce you something new to my blog (of course inspired by other amazing writers) SHUFFLE PLAY - AKA, Bingo!! For fanfic of course... anyways!

here is the bingo card:

And if you need it, here's twenty-five prompts!

"I've never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly."

"Try to stay quiet, alright darling? We're in public, you can't act up like you do in bed."

A: "You need to behave!" B: "Behave? Baby, you don't like it when I behave."

"I like having you covered in me. Smothered in me, full of me. Want all of you, and you need all of me."

"No, you can't touch me, that's your punishment. You have to sit there and watch."

"Why don't you put that pretty mouth to use for something else, hm?"

"I swear, honey, you look so much better with my cock in your mouth."

"I love you darling, I do, but I fucking love when you get all cock obsessed for me."

"No, no don't do that! I'll be good, I promise!"

"What, does that feel good? Hm? Tell me how good it feels."

"Who said we had to have sex on the bed?"

"Oh my darling girl, I have to mark you -- I need to show everyone who you belong to."

"It's okay to cry, darling, I know it's out of pleasure. Come on, show me how good I make you feel. Cry for me."

"We've been at it for hours, how are you still hard?!"

"I know for a fact you can be a hell of a lot louder than that, darling. Come on, scream for me."

"What? Don't stop on my account, I'm enjoying the show."

"Do you think they heard us?" "Yes. We did."

"Don't you know the hat rule, darling? Take a cowboy's hat, you're in for the ride of your life."

"Don't be gentle. I want it all."

"Please, please- I'll be good, I just need to fuck you."

"You're such a good girl/boy, honey. I think you deserve a treat."

"First one to make a noise loses, and I know how much you hate to lose."

"You know I hate it when you tease me, darling."

"Never knew such a slut would like this so much."

"We're in public, y'know."

EVERYONE I WRITE FOR IS LINKED HERE! DON'T BE SHY TO ASK IF I WRITE FOR A CHARACTER! If requests don’t go well, I will do it on my own, but I really want you guys to interact and have a choice!! Let me know if you have any questions :)

UPDATE (06/14/23) I wanted to make sure that it was clear this will be BLACKOUT bingo! All spaces will be used!!

How to request: Just send in a request starting with: "BINGO: (space name) with (character name) and prompt (#) and a brief overview or description on what you want to happen in the fic! Please remember that fics might take me a while :)

Requests as of 06/09/23 MUST include a please and a thank you!!

Additional characters that I can think of are Ethan Landry, Dave Lizewski and other characters from the fandoms listed in my main masterlist ♡

AGHHHH AS OF JUNE 14TH 2023, WE GOT OUR FIRST BINGO WITH:

'HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS' with Dylan O'Brien 'YANDERE' with Finnick Odair our 'Freespot' 'MOMMY KINK' with Ethan Landry and 'SPOILED RICH READER' with Stiles Stilinski!!!

SECOND BINGO AS OF JUNE 16TH 2023 WITH:

'HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS' with Dylan O'Brien 'OUT OF THEIR LEAGUE' with Ethan Landry 'WEDDING NIGHT' with Andrew Garfield 'SOULMATES' with Finnick Odair and 'SPOILED RICH BOY' with Finnick Odair!!!

All fics are listed in the masterlist!!

THIRD BINGO AS OF JUNE 29TH 2023 WITH:

'FRIENDS TO LOVERS' with TASM! Peter Parker 'SUGAR MOMMY' with Spencer Reid 'HIMBO' with TASM! Peter Parker 'YANDERE' with Finnick Odair and 'FANTASY AU' with Finnick Odair!!!

Taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪

Oh, and I think that's it! I hope you enjoy, and please, don't be shy requesting! Please make sure to check reblogs for updates, there's a tab in the notes to see them :)

with love, asteria ♡

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hedwig394 · 1 year ago

Text

Are You Still Here?

Derek Hale x Sarah McCall

Timeline: When Sarah and Derek are dating, near the end of season 3A, where she suspects that Derek is cheating on her with Jennifer.

Sarah's POV -

It's cold in here, and dark. Had his loft always been this dark and cold? No, it hasn't. It seems to have grown colder and colder since the last month since the time it feels like Derek has distanced himself from me.

I jolt awake from the merry state between sleep and awakeness, blinking rapidly. I stare at my side, at the cold and empty side which used to be warm, when Derek was here.

Now, I don't know anymore where he is. He comes home at odd hours and leaves almost immediately after, not telling me much about where he has been or where he is going to go. He appears so stressed and worried these days, that I don't bother him by asking too many questions.

But as I lie here, staring at the ceiling in the dark, I think that maybe I should ask questions. I'm his girlfriend, I have the right to know. Or am I? Is he seeing another woman behind my back?

No, he won't do that. He'd never cheat on me.

Still, a trail of doubt tugs at my gut. He has never confessed that he loves me, he has never made any promise to me that he won't leave me and shit.

No, I shouldn't think like that. Even when he has never said those things to me, I've seen the sincerity and affection in his eyes.

They say that the eyes can never lie, but now I wonder, can they? The ceiling stares back at me with no answer, and I groan in frustration. I should talk to Derek, shouldn't make assumptions.

Maybe, he's really busy with all of that stuff with the Alpha Pack and Deucalion. Maybe, I'm being doubtful for no reason, yet hear as I lie down, I keep asking myself, are me and Derek still a thing?

I haven't told Scott about this. The time he found out that I was dating Derek, it was after Derek killed Peter and turned Jackson into a kanima. I had been furious at him but had eventually forgiven him. I cannot stay mad at Derek, maybe those are the effects of falling in love.

Love.

I haven't told him that I have fallen in love with him, and now, I'm even more hesitant. I have always wondered what would happen if he doesn't love me back, and now that possibility scares me even more.

Scott doesn't know anything about Derek's been behaving, and if I do tell him, Scott will drag his ass and throw him at my feet. A chuckle escapes my lips as I imagine that. There has always been tension between Scott and Derek since the two have world views which are polar opposites. After Derek and I had started dating, Scott became even more protective of me. He clearly doesn't trust Derek much, but I cannot forget the conversation we had about my relationship.

I close my eyes and memories flood back.

"You know, CeeCee," Scott says seriously, "I don't trust him. Not a lot, to be honest."

"I know, Scotty," I say, "But he's not that bad. You two have different kinds of thinking and perspectives, but this doesn't make him a bad person."

"I don't think that he's a bad person," Scott says, "I just...don't trust him well, and not with you."

"You know I'm older than you, right?" I raise an eyebrow at him. He chuckles, "I know." But then he turns serious again, but his eyes are loving, "CeeCee, I don't trust him, but I do trust you. And I know that whatever choice you make, it will be good for you."

"Thank you," I say, squeezing his hand.

"But, if he ever causes even a teeny amount of discomfort, I'm dragging his werewolf ass out and shoving him in a sack of wolfsbane."

I laugh, "Thank you, but I don't think that it will ever come to that."

I open my eyes and smile sadly. At least Scotty's there with me. And Stiles too. And Mom, of course. And even Derek-

Scott is going to be so angry if Derek cheats on me.

I will be so angry if Derek cheats on me.

The bed feels suffocating, so I get up and sit on the couch in the living room. I'm staring into darkness when I hear the door creak open.

The breath whooshes out of my lungs as I see Derek stumble in, looking so tired and exhausted that I momentarily forget about everything else. Effects of falling in love.

"Derek?" I say and he looks at me. For a minute, our eyes lock and nothing else in this world matters. He then saunters towards the couch and he collapses down. I sit beside him. He holds my hand and breathes deeply. "Honey," He says, "Why're you still awake?"

That question makes me so angry that I want to hurl something at his head. He's asking me that like he wants me to sleep so that he can carry on with whatever he does without my interruption.

"Why do you ask that?" I seethe, "You wanted me to fall asleep so that you can carry on with whatever top-secret stuff you do?"

Derek immediately understands the issue. He looks at me with soft eyes and says, "Honey, I'm really sorry that I haven't been talking to you lately. I'm sorry that I haven't told you about anything that I'm doing. I'm just so sorry." He looks down in shame.

"Tell me now," I say, "Tell me Derek, what is keeping you so busy these days? What has driven you so much that you can't even find the time to spend with me? You're so absent, so...not there." I bite my lip, my heart hurting. Tears pool in my eyes, and I try not to cry.

"Honey I-" He tries to speak but I stop him.

"What is happening, Derek?" I say desperately, "What is happening to you? To us? We don't even talk to each other anymore! Whenever I have tried to reach out to you, you have swatted me away!" My voice is raised now, but I don't care.

"Do you not like me anymore?" I say, my chest heaving and tears pouring down my eyes, "Are you bored of me? Do you now like someone else? Is it Jennifer? Whatever it is, tell me! Talk to me! I'm right here! But the main question is, are you still here?"

I fall back on the couch and sniff. I needed this release.

Derek looks at me for a few minutes, and then says, "Since my family was burnt alive, I died too. Just not physically. I was a lone wolf, surviving on my own. I didn't have a pack, I didn't have an alpha, I was just a lonely beta with no good to this world. I thought that my entire life was going to be like this. I mean, why wouldn't it be?"

I listen quietly.

"And then there comes this girl trudging in the woods, all determined to find her brother's inhaler." He smiles. I have to admit, his smiles are the most beautiful thing in the world. "I recognise her, from the days I was in school. She thought that I wouldn't, but I did. I cannot believe it. The biology nerd from school has become such a beautiful woman."

I pout at him, but at least I'm not crying anymore.

"As I spend more time with her, I realise that she hasn't become beautiful suddenly, she always has been. I was just too blind to see it." He says, looking into my eyes, "She's beautiful from the inside out, and no one can ever be compared to her."

I now want to cry again.

"After I get to know her better, she helps me get to know myself better. Being in her presence, I realise that I am not dead, not really. I was just dull, dry, like a tree which hasn't been watered in years." He then takes a deep breath. "And you know what she is like? Rain."

He doesn't have to elaborate for me to understand. But if he thinks that he can butter me up with beautiful words to make me forget my anger, then he is wrong.

"I've never said these words to you," Derek says, and keeps my hand over his heart, "So now I'm going to say them."

I inhale sharply.

"I love you, Sarah McCall."

I am speechless. All the times I've imagined him saying that this had not crossed my mind.

"I love you, Sarah." He repeats, now smiling gently, "I've never loved anyone as much as I love you. Not even Paige."

"Derek I-" I pause and say, "I love you too."

We kiss and he mutters, "I'll never even think of cheating on you Sarah, ever. I love you." A few tears slide down my cheeks as I say softly, "I love you too."

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thatchickwithtoomanyhobbies · 1 month ago

Text

Lonely Pt.2 (Stiles)

***A continuation a few weeks after where Lonely Pt.1 left off. Stiles goes to New York and breaks into Aiello’s apartment because he’s worried about him. Basically Stiles being a good and caring friend. Note: It’s heavily implied that Aiello is deep in the trenches of mental illness and alcoholism. Also talk of *self-deletion* if you catch my drift. So yeah, maybe don’t read if that’s upsetting to you.***

That was the final straw. He, Andrew Jason Stiles, was going to New York- not for the sights- but to go get one of his best friends and brother in arms, Frank Aiello, to snap out of whatever funk he was in. He hadn’t picked up the phone in weeks and hadn’t responded to any letters either.

“He better not have…” he said to himself, thinking the worst of why he wasn’t responding to any attempts at communication. He shook his head. Aiello had never been a particularly emotional guy. He was always strong, never showing any signs of weakness or emotion, always stoic both in manner and expression. Even when Turner was killed, his bravado never faltered. To think that he had survived everything he had only to come home and end it himself was horrifying.

He threw the last of his things into his duffel bag and threw it over his shoulder. Whatever the case, he was going to be there for him. He had hoped Zussman would go with him, after all two old friends coming to visit would be better than one, but he was in Texas visiting Daniels for the time being. This was up to him alone.

“Come on, Socks. Let’s go,” he said, picking up the small terrier he had gotten as a companion a few months before. He had found Socks, short for Socrates, digging though the garbage bags in a nearby alleyway for food and decided that he would make the canine his pet. He knew how it felt to be alone the way the poor dog was, and decided to take him home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Here’s Socks, Tim,” Stiles said to his brother. Tim had agreed to keep him for the time being. As much as Stiles wanted to take his pet with him, Aiello had a cat and he knew the two would not get along. And Socks certainly wouldn’t behave on the nearly 20 hour train ride. “And here’s his things. My house key is in there too,” he continued, hoisting the tote bag containing dog food, toys, and a spare leash onto the counter of his brother’s bookshop.

“What are you planning to do once you get there?” Tim, the older of the two, asked. He could see how worried his brother was about his friend.

“I’m getting a taxi to his apartment. And if he won’t let me in, then I’ll find my own way in.” He said, determination in his voice.

Tim laughed, thinking his younger brother was joking about potentially breaking into someone’s apartment. His laughing stopped short once he saw his brother’s expression and realized that he was, in fact, not kidding.

“Well, my train leaves in an hour, see you soon.” He said walking toward the door. The dog barked. “Bye, Socks. Be good for Tim, ok?” He told the small creature, bending down to scratch his head one last time before he left. He stood up and grabbed a copy of the new book his brother had gotten in- Bright Day by J.B. Preistley- flashed an innocent yet mischievous smile, and walked out the door.

“You better pay me for that when you get back!” Tim yelled as the door shut behind his brother. “I doubt he’s going to, though.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Let’s see,” Stiles said to himself, walking down the hallway of the unfamiliar New York apartment building, “ E5… E6… E7… There we go! E8!” He’d finally found his friend’s apartment after becoming lost in the corridors for a half hour.

“Hey! Aiello! It’s me!” He said knocking on the door. No answer. “Hey! I know you’re in there! Open the damn door!” Still no answer. “If you don’t answer the door within the next minute I’m finding my own way in!” He yelled, continuing to pound on the door. Still no one answered.

“Ok! I’m coming in there!” Stiles yelled, not knowing if the man inside could hear him or not. This called for drastic action. He sat down against the wall in hallway and began rifling through his duffel bag. He’d seen a bag of his fiancée’s hair pins on the train while he was looking for his spare glasses. He knew they could be used to pick a lock in an emergency. Well, this definitely qualified as an emergency.

“There they are,” he muttered to himself as his hand found the small pouch. “I’m sorry, Rachel, but I know you’d understand,” he said to no one in particular as he bent the small pins out of shape to stick into the lock.

His large hands fiddled clumsily with the tiny hair pins as he attempted to pick the lock on Aiello’s front door. Sure it would’ve been easier to kick down the door, but Aiello would have a fit and make him pay for it. And considering he was saving to pay for a wedding in a couple months…

“Just keep with the pins, Drew. You’re almost there.”

After a couple more minutes of messing with the lock and the beginnings of a few blisters, the front door finally popped open.

“Finally!” He exclaimed, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. He was getting to the bottom of this. As he pushed the door open further, the scent of alcohol hit him like a tidal wave.

“Well that’s not ideal,” he muttered to himself. At least the strong smell meant that it had been drunk recently and the chances his of his friend being alive were greatly improved.

“Frank!” He yelled into the dark apartment. He couldn’t find the light switch or his pal anywhere. “Frank Aiello! It’s me, Drew!” Still no answer. This called for drastic action.

“Francis Roman Aiello! You better answer me!” Aiello hated his first name and would become angry if you called him anything but Frank or his last name. Still no response.

“This isn’t good. Not good at all.” Stiles muttered to himself, still feeling around for a light switch. “Where’s the damn-“ suddenly he stepped on something round which slid out from under him. He landed hard on his back on the floor. Underneath him, he heard a cat screech.

“Sorry, kitty! Sorry! I’m so sorry!” He said, trying to get up off the floor and the cat. Certainly Aiello had heard that commotion. Suddenly a light clicked on overhead.

“College?” He asked, a confused expression on his face. It was obvious he had let himself go. He hadn’t shaved in a while and he wore nothing but shorts and a holey t-shirt. He was holding an aluminum baseball bat, poised to hit the intruder over the head with it.

“Frank! I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for weeks! What the hell is going on?” Now that the light was on he had see that the apartment was a mess. Empty alcohol bottles lay everywhere. Bags of garbage sat in the living room. He hadn’t taken care of himself in a while.

“College… Ok, first of all, how did you even get in my house? And second, what on God’s green earth are you doing here?”

“Which question would you like me to answer first?”

“I don’t know, Stiles! Just pick one!” It was then he realized that Aiello was slurring his words.

“Frank, you’re drunk,” Stiles said.

“So what if I am? It’s not like anyone cares any.” This was definitely the alcohol talking. Aiello could be arrogant at times, but this was too much for even him.

“Aiello, sit down,” Stiles commanded. He wasn’t usually like this either. But he could tell what was going on, and he knew his friend needed help. “Sit down and talk to me. What the hell is going on? Why aren’t you talking to anyone?”

“I’m not talking to you about anything.” Aiello slurred. He wanted to talk to Stiles. He truly did but he knew once he got started he’d never stop. Then he’d cry. Then Stiles would know that the bravado was all an act and he’d see just how weak he truly was.

“At least tell me what all these are about then,” Stiles said, handing an empty beer bottle to Aiello. He knew what it was about. His Uncle Steve had dealt with the same thing. He just needed Aiello to say it out loud.

“What, these?” Aiello said, forcing a chuckle. “These are nothing.” “Nothing compared to everything else I have going on,” he thought. He bit his lip. Fanculo! This was not the moment to start crying.

“This isn’t nothing, Aiello. This is a problem.” This wasn’t the actual problem. This was just the symptom. They both knew it. And judging by the pained expression on his friend’s face, he didn’t want to speak it aloud.

“Why do you even care?” His voice barely above a whisper. If he spoke any louder his resolve would break. He stared at the empty bottle in his hand. He’d done something he vowed to never do. He’d turned into his father.

“Because I care about you. As annoying and pompous as you are sometimes, I care about you. And I know that this-“ he held up another bottle, “Isn’t the true issue here. Something’s wrong and I’m not leaving until I know you’re fine.”

Frank’s lip quivered. He was biting it so hard he was beginning to draw blood. He didn’t want to say it out loud. Saying it out loud made it real.

“Kick me out if you want to, but I’ll find my way back in again.” He meant it. He wasn’t going home until his pal was on the right track.

“I can’t,” he choked on the words. He was holding back a flood of tears. Ones he definitely didn’t want Stiles to see.

“Ok then, I’ll start,” he picked up another empty bottle. Pointing at his friend with it, he continued “You’re an alcoholic, but this is only the visible sign of a deeper problem. I don’t know what that is for you, but I’m willing to listen.”

That did it. The dam of his emotions finally broke and it burst out of him in sobs. He knew Stiles wasn’t the epitome of masculinity, but he just knew he was judging him for his emotions getting the better of him.

“I just can’t do it anymore, man! I just can’t!” he sobbed. He tried his best to cover his face with his hands. He hated that Stiles was seeing him like this. “Life’s never been this bad for me. I can’t seem to have anything go right. And when something finally does, something else goes horribly wrong.”

Stiles hadn’t expected his friend to break like this. He didn’t mind though. He could tell he had needed this for a long while. He guided the crying man over to the couch and made him sit down. He sat beside him and put a comforting arm around his shoulder.

“What’s the point of even living anymore? No one even cares.” He sobbed. He finally admitted that out loud.

“I care.” Stiles thought. “So do Zuss and Red.”

“No one even cares about me. My family has their own lives and never bother to come over. All my friends are either dead or don’t have time to visit. You guys all have your own lives.”

“I put my life on hold to come make sure you’re ok,” he thought. He knew exactly where this conversation was going, but he was going to let Aiello say it.

“I tried dating again after what happened with Gracie. I thought maybe that would make it better. But all it did was make it worse. They all said I’m ‘clingy’ and ‘needy.’”

In need of a hug and some understanding maybe, but not needy. He knew what was going to come out of his mouth next.

“I’m just so lonely, man. I’m so lonely.” The root of his problem with alcohol- loneliness.

“I get it, brother. I really do.” He hated thinking about that time in his life, but he knew Aiello needed to hear it.

“No you don’t! You have no idea what this is like! You’re getting married in three months and have Zussman as a roomate! You have no idea what loneliness is!” There was no way he knew how he felt. He couldn’t.

“Yes I do. My entire life I’ve been lonely. I’ve never understood how to interact with people. They just don’t make sense to me.” Especially you, he thought to himself. “I only played with my siblings when I was a kid because they were the only people who understood me. I’ve never had friends until I met you guys at basic. I’ve always been out of step with the rest of the world. I know what loneliness is, Frank Aiello! So don’t tell me I don’t!”

He was stunned. He’d never seen Stiles this vulnerable. Yes, he’d watched him cry the hardest over Turner’s death, but that was understandable. Stiles never really said anything about his personal life, come to think of it.

“We care about you. You might not see it all the time but we do. I skipped out on going to Texas with Zuss to come make sure you were ok.”

It had been ages since someone cared about him like this. It was unfamiliar but it felt good.

“Zussman is down there for two weeks. I was going to join him, but I think you should too. It’ll be good for you. Whataya say?”

“Alright.” He would admit he needed that right now. He reached for the roll of paper towels that was, for some reason, on the coffee table and ripped off a sheet to blow his nose.

“Did you know your nose runs when you cry because the tears drain into your nasal cavity?”

“Oh, shut up, College!” He said laughing for the first time in ages. Maybe he wasn’t so lonely after all.

#cod #cod ww2 #cod wwii #drew stiles #frank aiello #joseph turner #red daniels #robert zussman #william pierson #call of duty #call of duty ww2 #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fandom #call of duty wwii #cod fanfic

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sterekmpreg · 1 year ago

Note

eli x jack headcanons?

For sure

) Eli meets Jack when he's 14 and he became friends with Jack immediately when he realized how strangely Jack behaved, because Eli knew he was strange too.

) When Derek and Stiles first meet Jack they look at each other and then back to the smiling teens with raised eyebrows. “Why is that kid acting like he was raised in captivity?” “I don't know... And whys is he so fucking happy!”

) Jack tells his dads hr made a new friend and the Winchester family couldn't be happier to have ‘their’ son/nephew away from the supernatural danger for once.... Well until they learn Jack’s new friends are werewolves.

) Jack and Eli both had to play mediator when Dean and Cas had started accusing Derek and Stiles of killing the people around Beacon Hills. In the end, the teens managed to get their parents to work well together and handle the demon running a muck in Beacon Hills.

) Jack is so happy all the time, that the first time Eli sees Jack go off Eli, and the fucking pack, are shocked to their core. I mean it's not every day you see a teenage boy kill Satan and then find out that Satan is said teenager's biological father.

) When Jack learns that Eli is scared of being a werewolf, Jack shares something he was taught with Eli after Eli has a panic attack and not even Derek or Stiles could calm their son down. “Eli, I had to learn this too, but it doesn't matter what you are, it matters what you do.... Even ‘monsters’ can do good in this world.”

) Eli is absolutely ecstatic when he finds out that the Winchesters we're retiring from being active Men Of Letters, and had decided to settle down right in Beacon hills... So maybe not retired restored but not constantly traveling anymore.

) Jack and Eli are definitely the school's dorks but they're also the smartest kids and every teacher's favorite.

) Grandpa Stklinski LOVES Jack. He's probably the one who who rooting for Rli and Jack to get together the most.

) Dean and Derek get along very well and Eli soon learns that he and Jack are gonna have to step up their lying game because of how protective the two are.

) Jack realized Castiel and Stiles are a lot smarter than their husbands and he and Eli are always looking behind then, almost jumping when one of their parents catches them doing exactly what they shouldn't be doing.

Let me know if you want more and more specific one😊

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udunie · 6 months ago

Note

Looooove Peter abducting Stiles bc he thinks Stiles is his Mate and Stiles is just being silly because he hasn't yet realized theyre meant to be together forever

Had the thought earlier of Peter doing a very thorough inspection of his mate after abducting him such as prying his jaw open to look at all his teeth and filing his nails down so Stiles doesn't hurt himself trying to fight Peter. Maybe even doing a very thorough cleaning and inspection of Stiles' clit and breeding hole (because Peter knows his mate will carry pups if he just breeds the boy enough) and making sure he's milked dry of cum for some silly reason or another. He probably needs to stretch him out really good too so his knot will fit nice and easy

Okay, so. Now I'm thinking, Stiles and Peter get in a relationship, and all is well at first. Sex is good, Peter is very attentive, Stiles is enjoying having a rich, hot boyfriend... Except, Peter slowly starts behaving in increasingly fucked up ways? Like, it's a classic abusive, control freak situation - he wants to know where Stiles is at all times, he wants to control what Stiles eats/wears, who he meets etc...

Stiles is not stupid, he can recognize a red flag when he sees one, so he decides to just cut his losses and break it off before things get even worse.

For a few weeks, he thinks that's that.

Then he wakes up in a basement, tied up/drugged/body modified per Peter's specifications, cause Peter will get what Peter wants.

#prompt box

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usermischief · 1 year ago

Text

chapter 56: a touch of despair Warnings: needles

You can read it on AO3 as well.

---

“Isaac!” Stiles can hear his panic echo inside the cell, down the hallway. It travels so far, but Isaac remains unconscious. “Please,” Stiles whispers, struggling to figure out what to do. “Isaac, please, wake up.” With trembling fingers, he reaches out in an attempt to shake him. But he can’t touch him. He can’t, not after what happened to Theo. They beat Isaac up and threw him in his cell as if he’s nothing more than a midnight snack. But he is. Not just to Stiles. He knows they’re going to use Isaac as leverage; they’re going to use him to make Stiles behave. “Wake up.” Stiles kneels on the cold tiles, hands outstretched. His heart races in his chest. There is nobody to ask for help. Not here. Not in Eichen House. “Isaac, please.” But begging won’t wake him up. Taking a deep breath, Stiles crawls closer. The thought of touching Isaac makes his throat close up. The memory of almost killing Theo is too fresh in his mind. It’s too easy to lose control, especially with how starved he is. He needs Isaac awake to know when it’s too much.

He needs him to wake up.

Stiles needs him to be okay.

He moves to sit next to Isaac and curls his fingers into the bloody shirt. “Hey.” His voice trembles as he starts shaking the other boy. “Isaac, wake up.” He shakes him stronger, sensing the pain he’s in through the thin fabric. “Come on, wake up. I need you to—“ Stiles cuts off, frustration and tears making it hard to speak, even harder to think.

And he’s so fucking hungry.

A soft groan reaches his ears.

“Isaac?”

Blue eyes flutter open. For all but a second, Isaac is looking at him. His split lips move into a grin, and he mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like ‘found you.’

“Isaac!” Stiles yells, but the werewolf has slipped right back into unconsciousness. “Fuck. Fuck.” Fucking idiot. Did he really try to find him all alone after the Dread Doctors dragged him off? What was he thinking? He shakes him again and even risks slapping him across the face.

Once.

And that alone already gives him a taste of the pain the other boy is in. It should worry him, but his body responds like a starving person finding food for the first time in days. Days. Has it been days? Stiles has no clue how long he’s been in here. How long ago did the Dread Doctors take him? Why did they leave him here?

What did they do?

Isaac groans again, and Stiles looks down at him, trying his best to smile. “There you are.”

Grunting an incomprehensible response, Isaac closes his eyes again.

“No, stay—“

“I’m awake,” Isaac mutters, his voice so low it’s hard to tell how long he will stay awake. “I’m awake.”

Stiles swallows and scoots back onto the mattress, tugging Isaac by his shirt. Moving him with only a bit of help already brings him to the edge of his strength. He’s on his last two legs, and as much as he’d love to get as weak as possible just to spite Deaton and Valack, this place is the last he wants to be defenseless in. There are worse things down here than the two wannabe scientists.

Schrader is one of them.

“Do you want me to take some of your pain?” Stiles feels selfish asking it, but he also knows werewolves won’t heal when they’re in too much or no pain at all. It’s a win for both of them, really.

Isaac nods. “That would be nice.”

“Okay.” Stiles licks his lips, curling his hands into tight fists before letting out a breath. “But you need to stay awake. Can you do that for me?”

For a moment, Isaac’s so still, Stiles isn’t sure he passed out with his eyes wide open. Then he nods slowly, and only once. “If you help me sit up.” That’s probably a good idea. The relief of pain can be overwhelming. It’s a feeling Stiles has gotten quite used to now, but there’s still a huge difference between someone taking the pain away from you or the pain vanishing because you’ve healed.

Stiles shifts onto his knees again and hooks his arms around Isaac’s shoulders. It shouldn’t take this much effort. He’s a fucking supernatural creature, but he couldn’t even have gotten Isaac into a sitting position if the werewolf didn’t help him. If Isaac notices it, he doesn’t say anything. Just like Stiles doesn’t say anything about the little whimpers, Isaac can’t keep away. His heart aches for him, and the question slips past his lips before he can stop himself. “Why?” He sits back on his heels. “Why did you follow them?”

Pushing himself a bit further upright, Isaac raises his arm almost as an offering. “Because Theo would’ve killed me if I didn’t.”

While that’s probably true, Stiles can tell that Isaac is lying to him. “Fine,” he mutters, swallowing once more before curling his fingers around Isaac’s wrist. “Don’t tell me.” For a few seconds, Stiles forces himself to hold back, just so he knows that he can. He can control this. His hunger does not get the best of him. But his resolve breaks much quicker than he would’ve liked.

And he doesn’t care.

Not when it feels so good to finally feed again. His whole body is flooded with renewed strength, and his muscles relax as the pangs of hunger finally diminish.

The relief, however, doesn’t last long enough. Stiles struggles to believe he fed more than a few seconds before the collar around his neck starts burning him again, sending hot flashes of agonizing pain through his neck, head, and chest. Stiles drops Isaac’s arm as if that’s the whole reason for his pain. Instinctively, he reaches for the collar.

But Isaac grabs his wrists. “Don’t.”

“Let go.” Stiles tries to yank his arms free, but Isaac’s grip is iron around his wrists. Slowly, the bruises on his face heal. The pain vanishes too, something Stiles would be relieved about, but that sends his body into a panic after having been starved for so long — and, now, this fucking— “get it off,” Stiles begs. “Please, please, get it off.” He can feel something running down his neck. As much as he wants it to be tears, Stiles can tell it’s blood. He can feel his body trying to heal the damage the collar is causing.

Isaac tightens his grip, eyes widening ever so slightly. But for the most part, he seems to be able to keep his expression in check. “I can try. Don’t touch it, okay?”

It’s going to be impossible not to, but Stiles nods anyway. He just wants this thing gone. He needs it gone. He can’t deal with—

But Isaac hisses when his fingers as much as brush against the collar. He yanks his hands back, watching as his skin takes its time to heal. “What the fuck is in this thing?” His gaze flicks up, staring at Stiles, the collar, and then his fingers again.

Stiles would laugh if he weren’t in so much fucking pain. He grabs the poor excuse of a sheet, knuckles turning white under pressure. Of course, Deaton lied to him. He said it himself. He wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating Stiles. It’s hard to imagine Deaton hasn’t known about Isaac beforehand, so all he had to do was making sure Isaac couldn’t so anything about the collar either. “Highly concentrated mistletoe, wolf lichen, and, apparently, wolfsbane,” Stiles says through his teeth. Maybe it’s time Stiles stops underestimating Deaton, too. He may not know everything, but he knows enough to make his life down here very fucking hard.

“Come here.” Isaac pats the spot next to him.

Stiles follows the suggestion almost instantly and slumps against the werewolf.

“I can take the edge off.” Isaac grabs his wrist, and Stiles watches his veins turn black as the pain leaves his body.

A laugh bubbles out of him, and if it hadn’t, he probably would’ve cried. Not being alone in here should make him feel better, but Stiles is stuck in the place of his worst nightmares, and Isaac is stuck here with him. There’s a reason why Valack allowed them to be in this cell together. Stiles has an idea of what that might be. After all, he and Deaton have been complaining about him not cooperating.

Isaac is their leverage.

“You should’ve stayed away,” Stiles whispers, pulling his hand away when his skin stops knitting itself back together. The hunger hasn’t returned, but he feels hardly any stronger than before feeding — and that’s what this was about. They don’t want Stiles to be strong. They just need him to stay alive long enough to do whatever they think they can do.

Shaking his head, Isaac bends his legs and crosses his arms over his knees. “I couldn’t find Erica in time. I wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.”

Stiles sinks a little further down the wall and leans his head against Isaac’s shoulder, staring out into the bright, empty hallway in front of their now shared cell. “I wish you would’ve.”

Scoffing, Isaac leans his head against his. “Guess we have to disagree on that.”

---

They’ve gotten food four times before Schrader returns to the cell, this time accompanied by two other guards — both heavily armed with crossbows.

Isaac stiffens next to him and scrambles to his feet. His spirits are still up despite having been here for as long as Stiles must be. Four days. Maybe five. Stiles isn’t entirely sure how many meals he’s missed by simply refusing them or being punished for not cooperating. It’s hard to keep track of time in a place that always looks the same, that never gets fucking dark. Sleeping is a little easier now that Isaac can offer him a bit of relief from the light by lying on his side in front of him. But overall, it doesn’t do a lot. Isaac considered propping the mattress up, but Stiles knew the few moments of relief wouldn’t be worth the consequences.

Stiles grabs Isaac’s arm. “Stay calm,” he whispers, squeezing his wrist in warning. “Do what they say.” He doesn’t want Isaac to get hurt, not when he’s going to be the reason for it. Stiles would prefer not to have that guilt piled on top of everything else. As much as he misses Theo, maybe it’s a good thing Isaac is down here with him.

“Corner that mutt,” Schrader orders the two other hunters before opening the door.

The hunters slide inside, their eyes darting from Stiles, who steps away with both hands raised, to Isaac, who does exactly what Stiles asked — he stands in the corner. He doesn’t move, although he looks like he’s two seconds away from ripping everyone’s head off.

“What do you want?” Stiles watches Schrader enter the cell, holding a small satchel.

Schrader raises a brow at Isaac. “You got him trained well.”

“You don’t train your friends,” Stiles remarks before he can stop himself, “but you wouldn’t know that.” The moment he says it, Stiles wishes he could take his words back. There’s no telling of what Schrader will do — or who will be punished for his mouthing off.

Schrader chuckles, and then, not even a heartbeat later, he backhands him so hard Stiles’ head flies to the right. “Watch your mouth.” His voice is low and threatening, the manic glint in his eyes the only warning Stiles gets before Schrader grabs his jaw and slams him against the wall. “It would be a shame if something happened to it.”

A low growl fills the cell.

“Or him.” Schrader smiles.

Stiles swallows. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles as best as he can. His heart jackrabbits in his chest. The hand vanishes, but Stiles doesn’t exactly feel any sort of relief. His state of panic comes and goes with Schrader. It seems like his body remembers what his mind does not. He barely remembers seeing Schrader the last time he was here. All he knows is that he’s met him before and been scared of this place ever since he set foot in here for the first time. Stiles always thought Brunski was to thank for that, but he starts doubting that Brunski was the only person to blame.

“Doc wants your blood.” Schrader pulls out a tourniquet, dangling it in front of Stiles’ face like a threat. “I recommend you do what I tell you from now on. I don’t draw blood often.” The smirk makes that statement a clear lie.

But Stiles nods anyway. “Sure.”

Schrader doesn’t move away, not allowing Stiles an inch of freedom. They’re too close, almost chest to chest, and at this point, Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if Schrader heard his heart judging by how hard it’s hammering against his ribs. “Give me your arm.”

As requested, Stiles follows the command and turns his head away, fixing his gaze on the corner of the mattress. The thought of needles is enough to make him squirm. The last few times, they came with an injection down here. Nobody cared much about being gentle. Stiles doubts Schrader will do much better by drawing blood. Not that it matters. A needle is a needle, and Stiles would prefer if it stayed away from his body as far away as possible. Not looking at it is the best course of action if he doesn’t want to faint or throw up. He doubts Schrader would be very happy about that.

His sleeve is pushed up roughly, the tourniquet pulled too tight.

“Pump your fist.”

Stiles leans his left cheek against the cool tiles and does as he’s told. It’s impossible for him to relax or to keep his mind occupied with something that isn’t the fact that one of the people he’s terrified of is about to push a needle into him.

“Issues with seeing blood?” Schrader asks, sounding terribly amused as he disinfects the hollow of Stiles’ elbow.

“Issues with—“ Stiles grinds his teeth, forcing himself to take a deep breath and not go through with what he wanted to say. “No,” he says softly, looking up to find Isaac smiling at him. Looking at Isaac might be the better option than staring at the floor.

Schrader pats his cheek. “Good boy.”

Stiles wishes he could kick him in the balls for that. Instead, he takes a deep breath and keeps looking at Isaac, who tries to smile even though his eyes are murderous.

At least until Schrader pokes him with the needle, only to pull it out again with a chuckle. “Missed it.”

Swallowing another insult, Stiles opts for a short chuckle himself. “Happens to the best of us.” It’s fine. As long as he doesn’t look at it. It’s going to be fine. So, he looks at Isaac. Looking at Isaac is safe. He grinds his teeth as Schrader repeats the process twice, just to fuck with him, but Stiles also knows that a lack of a response is something that bores people like Schrader endlessly.

And he seems to be right because Schrader happens to be successful the fourth time and draws his blood without further comment. He opens the tourniquet.

Stiles forces himself to open his fist. Despite having gone through the worst of this procedure, he still feels a bit like throwing up. He gave his doctors hell as a child, and now he wishes he’d be at a hospital because he doubts any of this equipment is sterile. Then again, it’s not like it matters anymore. The only shit that’s actually harmful to him is already wrapped around his neck.

“That’s it for now.” Schrader pulls the needle out and yanks the tourniquet off unceremoniously. After putting everything back into the satchel, he grabs Stiles’ jaw again. “Next time,” he says as his grip turns painful, “you’re going to behave exactly like this from the beginning, or your dog’s going to get hurt. Are we clear?”

Stiles wouldn’t have pegged Schrader as someone who gives second chances, but he takes what he can get at this point. So, he nods.

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Schrader stares at him for a little while longer. It’s almost like he’s waiting for a reason to hurt Isaac or Stiles. He’s got to be under strict instructions not to because Stiles wouldn’t put it past him to find an excuse. But he leaves without doing or saying anything else, and his hunter buddies follow him dutifully.

Isaac lets out a long breath. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Get in line,” Stiles mutters, checking his arm for any marks, but they’ve already healed like nothing had happened. He swipes away a drop of blood that’s escaped.

“Any idea what they need that for?” Isaac sits back down on the mattress.

Stiles shakes his head. It’s a good question. “They wanna separate the nemeton from me.” Even that is still a fucking mystery to him. How the hell are they’re going to do that? “Maybe they need to see if I’m anemic.” He collapses next to Isaac and puts his chin on his knees. Whatever they need it for, it’s probably not going to be good.

---

Stiles drops the stale piece of bread on the tray and pushes it away from him. If he makes it out of here, he desperately needs something real to eat. He can’t stand another day of bread and whatever they add to it. “You think they’ll come for us?” Stiles would prefer to sound less hopeless, but the light and the quiet and this fucking place is getting to him.

“You think anything’s going to stop Theo?” Isaac’s lips quirk into a tired smile. It’s probably not a great time for him either, locked up in a small cell in the basement of a nightmarish place.

Sighing, Stiles hugs his legs to his chest. Although Isaac isn’t wrong, he hopes that Theo listened to him when he told him to stay away, if he even heard him. After all, he was asleep. It’s entirely possible Theo couldn’t hear him or thought it was nothing more than a dream. It’s also very possible Theo knew it was him, but he ignored his request. If he’s being perfectly honest, the latter sounds the most like Theo. Nothing will stop his boyfriend from getting to him, not even fully armed hunters, who are expecting them to come. “They might not even know where we are.”

Isaac breaks his bread apart and studies it for a moment. “Brett can feel you, can’t he? And Jordan can track the nemeton.”

“I guess, yeah.” Stiles leans his cheek against his knee and studies Isaac’s face. His body language wants to say, ‘Everything’s fine,’ but something about his face tells the exact opposite. Stiles can’t blame him. He feels the same way. “But I haven’t been able to feel the ley lines since wearing this shit.” He points at the collar around the neck, and the last time he was in touch with the others through the ley lines, it didn’t sound like they had any idea where he was. “How did you find me?” Stiles remembers hearing him talk when he first realized that Theo could hear him.

Almost tentatively, Isaac nibbles on the bread. He scrunches up his face in disgust but doesn’t drop it. “I saw them walk into the tunnels. It’s where I lost them.” Isaac shrugs, glancing at him before returning his attention to his food. “Corey mentioned there used to be one of their operating theaters down here. So I went looking… and before I knew it, I woke up here. It’s like they’ve been waiting for me.” Yeah, that’s not surprising. They were probably posted up in the tunnels after figuring out where they got in the last time.

Or maybe the Dread Doctors lured him here.

Stiles still doesn’t quite understand why the Dread Doctors just… gave him up. Either they can’t use the nemeton’s power as long as it’s connected to him, or they’re already done with whatever they needed from him. But Stiles didn’t feel another chimera the last time he connected to the ley lines. Does that mean they failed? Or does that mean they succeeded? But he can feel Theo, and Theo is a success. The chimeras need the nemeton. They can’t exist without one. It doesn’t make sense.

Sighing, Stiles falls back onto the mattress. “Why’d you go alone?”

Isaac plops down right next to him, shoulder pressed against his. Having him down here with him is most likely the only thing keeping Stiles sane at the moment. “Because everyone’s been too busy coming up with a plan. I lost the Dread Doctors in the tunnels and went straight to Satomi. I should’ve gone to Theo instead.” Isaac grimaces a little. “He wouldn’t have waited, but now Jackson and Peter have him on lockdown. They’re worried he’d do something stupid.” Great, Theo is never going to forgive them.

“So, you decided to do something stupid instead.” Stiles wants to be grateful, but he wishes Isaac would’ve been smarter. Thankfully, he went to his alpha, though, because otherwise Valack would’ve gotten his hand on Theo.

“Someone had to.” Isaac chuckles and crosses his arms over his stomach.

Stiles sighs. “You know Jordan and my dad will never let us go anywhere alone ever again.” Theo will most likely never let him out of his sight, either.

“Guess we can kiss colle—“ He sits up without warning, cocking his head slightly to the side. “Schrader’s coming back.”

Fuck.

Stiles pushes himself into a seating position. As much as he would like to pretend that Schrader has found himself down here to torture one of the other inmates, he highly doubts it. Knowing his luck, Schrader has been assigned to him and him alone. And lo and behold, this walking nightmare turns the corner with a smile. Following him are the same two hunters from the last time. One of them has a different hairstyle, so one day seems to have passed between then and now.

He can’t wait to see the sun again.

“It’s shower time.” Considering how excited Schrader sounds, it’s almost hard to believe Stiles really has the chance to finally clean himself up. He hasn’t seen fresh water since he broke out of that fucking tube, and who knows how clean that’s been. “Let’s go.” He claps his hands.

Isaac and Stiles exchange a glance as they get to his feet.

“Both of us?” Isaac asks. It’s a good question. There’s no way they allow them to go into the showers together.

“You think I’m stupid?” Schrader opens the cell door. Like yesterday, the two hunters step inside and corner Isaac, who doesn’t fight back once again. “We’ll do this one by one, and you’re coming with me.”

The last thing Stiles wants to do is follow Schrader anywhere, much less shower when he’s close by. But he’s not having much choice, and Stiles really wants to shower. He’d kill for a set of fresh clothes as well. Maybe today is his lucky day. To be fair, every day he doesn’t have a supernatural nose is his lucky day. It’s not the prettiest smell down here by human standards. Isaac’s most likely not having a great time.

Schrader produces a little key and unhooks the chain from Stiles’ collar. “You don’t need that any longer, do you?”

Stiles cuts his gaze to Isaac for a moment. Under different circumstances, freeing him would be a stupid idea. But Stiles wouldn’t abandon Isaac. “No.” He’s not about to do anything that could risk Isaac’s life. They’re both bound here by keeping the other person safe. It’s such an easy way to control them, Stiles is almost mad about it. He takes a breath. “After you.” He focuses on Schrader again, who leaves the cell with a chuckle, and Stiles follows him.

The hunters step out and close the door, but they’re not leaving with them — not because there’s a risk Isaac could run. It’s because that way, all Schrader has to do is call them, and Isaac will be punished for Stiles’ wrongdoing.

Or just because Schrader is in the mood.

Stiles keeps his eyes locked on the man before him, trying to block out the other supernatural creatures in the cells surrounding him. He remembers the sluagh he saw when they visited Valack down here. Stiles has absolutely no interest in seeing Donovan again, or maybe even Caitlin. It’s enough if their deaths are in his head. He does not need to be reminded of them by seeing something that pretends to be them for no other reason than fucking with his head.

Schrader leads him through a door and down another short hallway. Stiles knows the way. He’s mapped it out for days before they broke Peter out. At this point, he’d probably find it in his sleep — and Schrader probably knows that. Perhaps that’s why they are going to the exact showers they used to break in. It’s another way of proving to Stiles that he has the upper hand.

As if that isn’t clear enough yet.

When they reach the showers, Schrader unlocks the door and gestures for him to walk in first.

The room is cold and empty, but Stiles spots a set of fresh clothes — light gray sweatpants, a dark blueish gray shirt, and a pair of socks and boxer briefs in dark gray — as well as a towel. At least he can get rid of the clothes he’s currently wearing. He didn’t exactly expect something that nice from the people down here. Folding his arms over his chest, Stiles can’t help but glance toward the gutter. Even from here, he can see that it’s been screwed shut again. There's no way for him to get out, but maybe Isaac’s got more luck. If only he’d leave if Stiles told him to.

“Looking for something?”

Stiles all but jumps out of his skin. He stumbles forward, bringing distance between him and Schrader. “No, I just— no.” He shakes his head and then glances at the closed door. Is he going to stay in here while Stiles showers? That’s not necessary. There’s nowhere for him to go, and there’s nothing he can do in here aside from showering.

“Good.” Schrader sits on one of the benches, stretching and looking like he’s getting as comfortable as possible. “For a moment there, I was worried you’re thinking about doing something stupid… like trying to escape.” Of course, he knows. That’s exactly why they’re here. That’s exactly why he got that chain off him. Schrader is waiting for him to act up just so he can punish Isaac.

Without replying, Stiles retreats further into the showers. He goes for the one farthest away from Schrader and turns it on. The water hitting him is ice cold, and for a moment, he worries it’s going to stay that way. He seems to be lucky for once because it turns warm only a few moments later. Stiles breathes a sigh of relief. With the water running, he hurries back to the clothes and the towel. There’s not much he can do about privacy, but the low walls, at the very least, give the illusion.

He places everything on the bathtub before stepping under the shower. The feeling of wet fabric sticking to him makes him want to peel his skin off, but Stiles has absolutely no intentions of undressing in the middle of the room. He’s never been the biggest fan of locker rooms, but this situation is a whole new level of fuck that.

Slowly, Stiles gets rid of all his clothes, tossing them onto the cold tiles in front of the poor excuse of a shower stall before stepping back under the water and allows himself to close his eyes and relax for a moment. He hasn't received a time limit, but Stiles doubts that the water will stay warm for long down here — or that Schrader will let him relax for more than five minutes.

“You know,” Schrader says, sounding so conversationally, strangers could think they’re old colleagues, “I’ve been wondering. Do you remember me?”

Stiles opens his eyes. The words make his heart speed up, and for a few moments, he’s not sure if he should respond.

Schrader continues talking before he gets the chance to. “Because you looked pretty spooked that first day.”

No matter where this conversation is headed, Stiles has no interest in having it in the shower. Since there’s no soap, he starts scrubbing himself off as best as he can with just water. “I thought I saw your face before,” he replies quietly, unsure if his words are even audible over the sound of running water. But he never knew his name, and he doesn’t actively remember anything else — or anything about Schrader that he might’ve heard. He wonders if Oliver talked about him, or if the nogitsune saw something, or if perhaps Stiles just connected his face to the time he spent at Eichen, a time he’d prefer to forget after what happened with Malia and Oliver, Meredith and the nogitsune in general. He hates how sketchy his memories of everything are because he hadn’t slept in days, was hopped up on multiple drugs, and was possessed by a goddamn fox demon. Sometimes, he isn’t even entirely sure what happened did happen.

But that goes for most of his possession. Stiles thought he witnessed everything the nogitsune did. The more time passed, however, the less sure he was about it.

That still doesn’t explain why Schrader makes him feel so damn anxious.

Why not Brunski? Because he’s dead?

And does he really want to know?

“That sedative should’ve knocked you out completely.”

Stiles hears the bench creaking as Schrader gets up. He turns the water off and rushes to the towel, wrapping it around himself before turning to face the other man again. “So it was you,” he says when the real question refuses to roll over his tongue.

What did you do?

“Who sedated you? No.” Schrader seems highly amused at that. “We never met while you were awake. Or so I thought.” He just stands there, looking at him, with his arms folded over his chest and a grin on his lips. Stiles would love to punch clean off.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he steps away and grabs his clothes. Stiles doesn’t much care about being dry as long as he’s dressed. “So what?” he asks, unable to hide the panic creeping into his voice, “You came creeping into the room while I was knocked out?” Well, only mostly, apparently, because some part remembered Schrader’s face enough to be afraid of him. If they never met otherwise, Oliver must’ve told him something, but the kid said so much Stiles only half-listened most of the time. Not that it matters because it turns out he’s not wrong to be afraid of Schrader.

“Brunski talked about you.”

Stiles freezes after putting on the boxer briefs. The way Schrader’s voice grew cold did not go unnoticed.

“Mostly about how much he’d enjoy punishing you. Probably because of who your father is.”

That wouldn’t be the first person who hated him because he happens to be the sheriff’s kid. Swallowing, Stiles reaches for the pair of sweatpants.

But Schrader curls his fingers into his hair and yanks his head back. “And then you killed him.”

How ironic. Stiles created a nightmare from a face he saw while heavily sedated, and now that nightmare became reality. He can’t decide if he’s more pissed at himself or Schrader, who continues to prove there is a reason to fear the darkness creeping into Stiles’ dreams. “I didn’t kill him,” he whispers, not trusting his voice to betray his anger. “He did that himself.” His mouth does it for him.

“Your friend is lucky,” Schrader whispers, “that this is going to stay between us.”

Before Stiles can ask what ‘this’ is, his head is slammed against one of the tiled half-walls. Pain explodes behind his left eye, spreading quickly throughout his whole head. Blood gushes from his left brow, covering his sight. The fingers leave his hair, and when Stiles tries to move, his whole world shifts to the right, and he slams to the ground. His left brow pulses like a fucking epicenter of pain.

Stiles curls his hands into fists, biting back the whimper trying to escape his mouth.

A foot connects with his rips.

Again.

And again.

Stiles screams out in pain, not sure how to fight him off with blood in his eyes clouding his vision — not sure if he should fight him off or if that would make things so much worse, not just for him, but for Isaac too.

When Schrader stops, Stiles isn’t sure how much time has passed. It’s hard to keep track when pain ebbs and flows as his body deals with the damage. Perhaps that’s what made Schrader even more mad. The bruises don’t last. There’s nothing to marvel at but his memories.

“For my sake,” Schrader spits, kicking Stiles’ shoulder to roll him onto his back, “I hope you survive.”

Stiles grins up at him, exhausted and with the first pangs of hunger echoing in his bones. “I’m going to kill you,” he whispers, tasting blood in his mouth as he pushes himself to his feet. The movements still hurt, his body not entirely done with healing him. “But before I do, I’ll make you cower and whimper and beg for your life like the pathetic waste of a human being that you are.” He curls his hands into fists, eyes locked on Schrader, who retreats a single step before he catches himself and straightens to his full height again. Not once does he reach for the walkie-talkie to punish Isaac for Stiles’ threat. “Even Valack knows what you are.” And Valack is the one making the decisions around here. He is the one who decides if Stiles’ behavior is worth punishing Isaac. Schrader used Stiles’ fear against him. Simple psychology and Stiles fucking fell for it. “That’s why you’re down here, aren’t you? Did they catch you watching inmates in the shower?” Every single word makes Schrader angrier and angrier; the room is full of his rage, giving Stiles enough to draw from. But he’s learned his lesson. He won’t take too much. Not this time. This fucking collar has brought him to his knees the last time.

And so has Schrader.

“Watch your mouth,” he seethes, crossing the room, still not reaching for the radio.

Stiles was right. His word means nothing down here. “Or what?” he drawls, smile widening as Schrader abruptly stops. “You gonna stick me with needles again? Or are you going to stick me with something else?”

Schrader’s face flushes red with anger. It comes as no surprise when he brandishes a syringe, no doubt filled with wolf lichen. He didn’t bring a weapon, probably thinking that Stiles would comply, that he would sit here and take it and not put two and two together. He shouldn’t have given him a second chance the first time Stiles mouthed off to him. He should’ve never told Stiles what really happened. It’s the mystery that kept the fear alive because now Stiles knows who Schrader really is.

A pathetic man, desperate for power over those who already have none.

Before either of them can move, the door to the showers flies open, and Valack bursts in, followed by at least four other nurses, who instantly point their weapons at Stiles. Two of them, he realizes, are the guys Schrader left behind with Isaac. Looks like one of them called the big boss.

Stiles raises both of his hands. He’s not stupid enough to mouth off now, but he can’t help but smile.

A vein ticks very visibly at Valack’s temple as his gaze flies from the blood on Stiles’ face to the syringe in his subordinate's hand. “Schrader,” he says in a dangerous tone, then turns to the others. “Bring him back to his room.”

“May I get dressed first?” Stiles asks, pointing briefly at the clothes behind his back.

Valack gestures briefly, something that could potentially mean, ‘Do as you wish.’

Stiles doesn’t waste a second.

---

“I really want to tell you how bloody stupid you are, but—“

“You don’t really have any room to argue.” Stiles rolls his shoulders and leans back against Isaac’s shoulder, closing his eyes with a sigh. Although he’s not necessarily afraid of Schrader any longer, this place is still scaring him. For multiple reasons. Waiting for the inevitable, for Deaton or Valack to do whatever they brought him here for — and see them fail. Hopefully, or succeed, if that means the chimeras will stay alive. Stiles can’t do much more than hope. After all, it’s all he can do besides running his mouth. He can’t use his powers, and he can consider himself lucky he’s still able to heal, or the whole thing with Schrader could’ve ended very differently.

Isaac leans his head against Stiles’. “What do you think everyone’s doing?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles says as he opens his eyes again, squinting a little as he adjusts to the light again. There’s no way to tell what they’re up to right now. Planning, maybe. If Peter and Jackson are making sure Theo can’t do anything stupid, Stiles at least won’t have to worry about that. With Isaac missing too, however, the Ito pack got dragged into this whole mess, and Stiles doubts Brett will take very kindly to people kidnapping members of his pack. “But maybe I can find out.” He very much doubts it since he’s felt cut off from the ley lines ever since Deaton put this collar on him, but he can, at the very least, try.

Isaac squints at him. “And how are you going to do that?”

“Remember when you thought Theo lost his mind?”

For a moment, Isaac simply stares at him. “You’re kidding. You talked to him?”

Stiles shrugs. He did something for sure. “When I got in touch with the ley lines, I somehow managed to hear you… through Theo. Maybe because of our bond. I’m not sure how it worked, but it did.” With how badly Stiles usually clings to Theo’s spark, it’s possible their bond evolved into something else entirely.

Isaac opens his mouth, then thinks better of it and shakes his head. “Fine, what’s the plan?”

“Put the mattress against the wall. Maybe hiding in the shadows…” Stiles trails off with an almost helpless shrug. Hope is the only thing they’ve got left, but he doesn’t want to waste it on something that has nearly no chance of working. “If we get caught, we might lose the mattress, though.” Unless Valack is trying to make up for what happened with Schrader, which is highly doubtful but not entirely out of the realm of possibility.

Most likely considering the possibility of having to stay here indefinitely without a mattress, Isaac looks out into the hallway, arms crossed over his knees. Eventually, he sighs and stands up. “Fuck it.” He pulls Stiles to his feet as well. “Let’s try it. Whatever.” Without further ado, he grabs the mattress and props it against the wall, leaving just enough space for Stiles to crawl behind it.

Which he does.

The reprieve from the light is already worth the risk of losing the mattress. His muscles relax for the first time in days, even his heartbeat slows down. A world of stress and anxiety falls from his shoulders. If he hadn’t known before how much light could affect him, this would certainly be his awakening. Sighing, Stiles shuffles around until he’s on his back and fully hidden behind the mattress.

“And?”

“Could you please give me a minute?” Stiles rolls his shoulders and folds his hands over his stomach. After taking another deep breath, he closes his eyes. But his hopes are pretty quickly quenched when he’s feeling nothing. Not a tug. Not the whisper of a ley line. All he can feel is the collar around his neck, almost as if it’s trying to strangle him, to drag him under and keep him away from the ley line at any and all costs.

He’s trying to remember the wildness of Theo’s spark, to grasp onto this feeling, but he can’t hold onto it. All he finds is emptiness.

Taking a shaky breath, Stiles opens his eyes again. Sure, he expected it. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get in touch with the ley lines, but he hoped— he fucking hoped — that he could at least get a glimpse of Theo, a brush of his spark. He’d take anything right now to find Theo, feel him, and know he’s still there. It’s a stupid thought. Of course, Theo is still there. Theo would never abandon him. Not even Tracy being back worries him in any type of way.

But he misses him.

Painfully.

“Stiles,” Isaac says only a second before he pulls the mattress away, “someone’s com— are you okay?”

The answer to that would be ‘no.’ Not even in the slightest. But Stiles doesn’t want to worry Isaac any more than he necessarily needs to. They don’t exactly have time for heartbreak right now. “I’m fine.” Stiles gets to his feet, wishing he could take this collar and shove it down Deaton’s throat. “Who’s coming?”

Isaac grimaces. “Valack.”

“Great.” As much as Stiles clings on to the hope that they get out of here because their friends somehow manage to break in and out a second time in only a short amount of time or luck is on Isaac and his side for once, the far bigger thing that gets him going ever since Schrader attacked him in the showers is revenge. He’s out for blood, and he will kill everyone who’s involved in this plan. Thinking they can control him and push him around, it’s going to be their downfall.

But Valack remains confident, at least judging by the smile he wears when he comes to a halt in front of the cell. “Am I interrupting something?”

“My inner peace.” Stiles steps right up to the glass and crosses his arms. He’s not particularly interested in having a conversation with him at the moment. He’d prefer to smash his face into a wall.

“It’s always a pleasure to talk to you.” Valack pushes his hands into the pockets of his expensive suit pants. “I regret to inform you that Schrader will continue to be responsible for you.” Regret isn’t exactly a feeling Stiles gets from the other man, and judging by Isaac rolling his eyes, he’s probably right about that. “Nobody else is willing to take care of you. It seems like you frighten them.” His last words are accompanied by a wrinkle of his nose as if the mere idea disgusts him.

Isaac steps next to him, cocking his head to the side. “You’re frightened, too.”

Valack clenches his jaw, the only response he allows himself before continuing the conversation as if Isaac never said anything. “Schrader will be under the supervision of me or Deaton, so there won’t be a repeat of what happened earlier today.”

Drawing his brows together, Stiles studies Valack. He never even considered that it might have been a possibility to get rid of Schrader. That’s why he never mentioned or demanded it. However, Valack trying to get another orderly to work with him is interesting. After all, he never looked particularly invested in Stiles’ well-being, much less his survival. “What do you want?” Stiles smiles at the man, watching as surprise crosses his features for all but a second before he tries to cover it up by fixing his tie.

“There is something I need you to test tonight,” Valack informs him, not quite looking at him but trying his best to make it seem like he does. “I think it would be wise to feed beforehand.”

Isaac scoffs.

Stiles raises his brows. “Feeding is useless with this thing around my neck.”

“Of course.” There’s a bitter edge to his voice, but Valack smiles through it. “Well, then you might as well feed right before.” He straightens his jacket. “You two will join me after dinner.” With a nod, more to himself than Isaac or Stiles, he turns around and returns to wherever he came from.

“The fuck does he want?” Isaac mutters, pushing the mattress back into the corner with a frown.

Good question.

---

“Ah, wonderful. Come on in.” Valack waves them into a room that should not exist anywhere in a 20-mile radius of a health facility. It seems to have been a former cell, but the glass wall has been partially removed. There’s a chair in the middle of the room, the walls are filled with desks and cabinets filled with various different things.

Most of all, filth and cobwebs.

“How was dinner?”

Stiles and Isaac exchange a glance over the orderlies' heads. Even they seem a little confused by Valack’s facade. “Stale.”

“Predictable,” Isaac adds, pulling his head away when one of the crossbows gets a bit too close to his face. They’re dripping wolfsbane. It’s hard to tell which one, but there is absolutely no outcome of Isaac getting poisoned down here that could have any chance at a happy ending.

“Speaking of predictable.” Valack puts a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and pushes him not so gently towards the chair in the middle of the room. “What do you think about predicting the future?”

Stiles sits down, not any less confused now than when Valack first told him he wanted to see them after dinner. “Like… fortune-tellers?”

“Clairvoyance.”

“So, like a psychic.”

Valack stares at him with a frown, clearly annoyed that Stiles is missing the point — which he is, very much so. They locked him up here to separate the nemeton from him. Now he’s in a room that violates every hygiene regulation for a hospital, talking to a madman about the possibility of predicting the future. It doesn’t make any sense.

“Did you go to a psychic, Gabriel?” Stiles raises his brow.

“It seems,” Valack says, sounding more than unamused about the turn this conversation took, “something lifted your spirits again.”

Stiles chuckles. “I just can’t imagine you falling for card tricks, is all.” Even though he doesn’t like to admit it, Valack is too smart for that. He can’t see him believing anything said to him in a tent at a fair for a horrendous price.

“If I remember correctly, Lydia Martin is able to predict death.”

“Death we’re able to avoid if we’re fast enough. The future isn’t set in stone, Valack. Things can always change.” There are exceptions to the rule. His mother, who assured him his fate was not written down by three old women who share one eye, was such an exception. She couldn’t change her future, no matter how hard she and her doctors tried. “Is that why you wanted me down here? Because the nemeton can’t predict the future. I can’t help you.” There may be many things the power of the nemeton might be able to achieve, but none of them have anything to do with psychic abilities.

Valack shakes his head with a chuckle. “It’s the fox I need, specifically, your powers of electromagnetokinesis.” He turns around, humming in a way that seems too delighted for Stiles’ liking and pulls something out of the set of drawers right behind him.

The thing turns out to be a Dread Doctor’s mask.

Stiles all but jumps off the chair, stumbling over his feet as he does so. It’s not hard to imagine what’s supposed to happen with this mask. The Dread Doctors have similar powers to kitsune’s that much he’s managed to gather. After all, Stiles, Kira, and Noshiko are immune to what they can do. It’s no surprise that all of their gear would need similar powers to function.

But Stiles is not about to touch any of that shit. “Get that thing away from me.”

Two people grab him, holding him in place, as Valack lifts the mask a little higher. “This mask was created by The Surgeon. He managed to harness electromagnetic fields within this very mask, giving the wearer the ability to utilize clairvoyance.” He sets the mask onto the abandoned chair, fixing Stiles with a smug smile. “Unfortunately, only those possessing similar powers can wield this power. Which means that you will put on this mask and tell me what you see, or Mr. Lahey will die a very slow and painful death.”

Stiles presses his lips into a thin line. That threat doesn’t come as a surprise, and he really wishes they’d be more creative. Unfortunately, this is all they need to have Stiles do exactly what they want. “It would probably be easier without this collar.”

“Certainly,” Valack agrees, propping his hands next to the mask, "I managed to extract your DNA from your blood. Rest assured, even without full access to your powers, you're still very much a fox." The smile falls from his lips as he picks the mask back up. “Sit, or you will be seated.” Time for fun and games is very much over.

Grinding his teeth, Stiles yanks his arms free from Schrader and the other orderly. One day, he’s going to kill this man, and he’s going to enjoy every single fucking second of it. He returns to the chair, sitting down and glancing in Isaac’s direction. There’s no room for him to move, either. One wrong move and the two orderlies will poison him.

“You see,” Valack says as he steps in front of him, “some things are set in stone.” The smile returns, and it’s the last thing Stiles sees before the mask is put on him.

For a few seconds, nothing seems to happen. All Stiles senses is the smell of old leather — and hopefully nothing more than that, as well as the crackle of electricity. It’s impossible to see out of the goggles. They’re broken and dirty and—

Without warning, a sharp pain starts at his left temple, spreading extremely quickly until it feels like Stiles’ head is splitting open. He screams in pain, trying to grab the mask, to rip it off. But someone grabs his arms. He’s pulled up and pressed against the chair. Someone is yelling something he cannot hear over his own screams. There is no future in this mask. There is nothing in this mask.

Only pain.

“Please,” Stiles screams.

There’s more yelling. More screaming. Something is crashing.

And then, there’s silence.

Stiles blinks his eyes open.

“What do you see?” Valack’s voice is distant and quiet, like he was talking to him through a wall.

Carefully, Stiles raises his hands to his head. The mask is gone, so is the chair, the room, and everyone else inside it. He’s alone in a different room. It almost looks like the one he’s woken up in a few days ago. But why would he be here again? A shudder runs down his back. It’s so awfully quiet, so wrong.

Stiles takes a step forward, but his foot catches on something on the ground. Furrowing his brows, he looks down.

And there’s Isaac, cowering at his feet, hands folded over his head, almost as if he’s protecting his face from something — or someone.

Stiles crouches down, about to grab Isaac’s shoulder, when he catches sight of something else.

Blood.

There’s blood everywhere.

#steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #steoedit #teen wolf #stiles x theo #theo x stiles #no place for promises #*tv:teen wolf #*w:npfp #*s:steo

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wellhalesbells · 11 months ago

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i desperately need to know what "troll the respawn jeremy" is and also hi i love you and everything you've written 🤍 (i regularly go reread the classics because they make me Feel Things)

Okay, so, "Troll the Respawn, Jeremy," is 1) a quote from Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt and b) the fic I've been trying to finish in time for Halloween for like.... years now. I cleverly only remember it exists in September, add a few thousand words, subtract about a thousand even, and then inevitably fail to finish in time. It's a great system, like, absolutely no notes on that, obviously. You're killing it, brain!

I'm honestly not sure how the thought originated in my head now but I do know the prompt for it was nothing more than 'zombie!Stiles' essentially. Stiles dies and the gang brings him back and he's... not quite right. The memories are there but his emotions aren't so he's rebuilding relationships, morality, and the everyday in this new framework where the only thing to stop him being awful is essentially if it's more work or not.

When it's not dark humor, it's actively silly. There's a lot of Stiles building bonds with Erica, Boyd, and Isaac, since he wasn't very close to them before he died meaning they have the least expectations for how he should be behaving. It's a lot of Pack, figuring out how his relationship with Scott is going to evolve and Jackson coming back and Peter's curiosity naturally being piqued by this less self-righteous version of Stiles and he and Stiles and Boyd watching soap operas together because of course they would.

It's a fun one and a humorous one, even with Derek pining in the background and Stiles having to decide what his emotional responsibility for this person is and if he should be the one to police his choices or not. Because, well, there has to be twisted psychology in there, right? It's a resurrection fic, dammit!

It's also a lot of making Derek do the work too, which I like - especially when I have a good reason for it, because Stiles is all path of least resistance, so these people want him, care for him, would like him around and so he would like to be around and preferably in a way where no one's commenting on his behavior so everyone's trying to help him build boundaries, want the right things, do the appropriate action, etc. So Derek's figuring out in real time what Stiles' motivations are and learning to work within them and having exchanges like:

D: "We can’t keep fucking if I die.”

S: “Unless I bring you back. You might be more fun that way. Less with the frowny face probably.”

D: “Sounds like a lot of work for you.”

Same kind of thing with making monogamy something Stiles might want by framing it in a way that's appealing specifically to him. It's interrogating in a lot of ways what's necessary to make a relationship work. My little ace brain has questions and this is the only way I know to get answers, okay, LOL

Snippet(s):

“You gonna get all deep and philosophical on me?” The church is a tiny one and Stiles had only ducked inside to avoid, well, everyone. He hadn’t expected Boyd would follow. Truthfully, he doesn’t expect a lot of what Boyd does. He hadn’t thought about him much before he died and even less after. Follow he does though, settles into the pew ahead of and at a diagonal angle to him. Feet up on the wood next to him, arm stretched out over the back so he’s facing Stiles rather than the front. Like he’s expecting Stiles to offer the sermon tonight. Stiles blinks at him. “No, I don’t think so,” he says, when it dawns on him: “Should I?” He doesn’t know a lot about being dead, having only done it for a short time, but if he’s meant to start spewing revelations, or even Revelations, he’s willing to give it a try. “I’d prefer you didn’t,” Boyd says in his lazy tone of voice that seems indifferent to most everything around him. Stiles likes that; it sounds like he feels. “What are you doing here then?” “Isaac was around here.” It’s close to where he works, this little abandoned site of holy ground. And Stiles had kind of wanted to see if he’d taken on any vampiric dead-guy traits and couldn’t cross the threshold. He doesn’t know what the new rules are, and is starting to suspect there aren’t any. Which is about the most horrible thing he can think of. “Then his boss called, and he wasn’t, and I was bored. What are you doing here?” “Keeping an eye out.” The way Boyd says it, it sounds like, ‘figuring out how many things are wrong with you.’ “Think I’ll start eating brains?” Stiles is genuinely curious as to what the theories are. Wants to see if any match up to his own. Boyd shrugs. “Do you want to?” He sounds genuinely curious too. Stiles shrugs back. “I don’t have any moral qualms about it. But it seems like a lot of work and there’s just pretty much no way they’re as good as Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, right? It’s a bone-saw and blood and innards versus opening a plastic bag.” He weighs them in his hands. “That’s not even a hard decision to make. If I am a zombie, which I’m not conceding by the way, then I’m a zombie with some serious dietary deficiencies. I require processed foods, stat.” Boyd seems to consider this, then decides, “Cheetos would be good.” After a second, he adds, “I have Runts in my pocket.” Stiles jumps over the back of Boyd’s pew and lands hard near him, says, “Then break ‘em the fuck out, man.” Stiles steals all the banana pieces spread out on the bench between them, and relinquishes the cherry ones as penance. They don’t talk. It’s not half-bad.

(Angstier) Snippet #2:

“You’re not you,” Derek says gruffly, not meeting Stiles’ eyes when Stiles lowers his head and looks at him straight on. Derek and Stiles’ dad, they just can’t ever seem to get there. Derek says it like he thinks this is why Stiles is here and wants it out of the way. So Stiles won’t be here any longer.

“Not entirely,” Stiles agrees, tapping his fingers along the counter, the island a buffer between them. “But the basics are all there, I’m just having a hard time accessing my,” he does a half-assed robot dance, “bleep-blorp-beep morality center. I kind of think maybe because it just doesn’t exist anymore?” He grins widely. “Fucking cool, right?”

Derek stares at Stiles’ adam’s apple, glassy-eyed and blank, says without inflection, “What.”

Stiles slides into the stool at the counter enthusiastically and talks as much with his hands as with his mouth. “I mean, okay, there’s action and consequence, right? And arguably the biggest action and consequence: life and death, I defied it and now it’s like, I don’t know, I can’t appreciate that there are consequences.” He rubs a hand over his buzzed hair, back and forth, back and forth, jolting himself back into the present moment with the spiky side, losing himself in his head when he’s not fighting its natural direction and his hand hydroplanes smoothly over it. “I just don’t feel things the way I used to and that’s my best guess for why.”

It’s better than his second-best guess: that there’s still a part of him that’s dead, that the only part that ever gave a shit about any of these death-prone people/supernatural whoosie-whatsits didn’t come back with him.

Derek stares down into the depths of his cup, asks it, “Why are you hanging around Isaac?”

Stiles shrugs, staring more intently at Derek the longer Derek avoids his gaze. He can see Derek’s pulse thudding in his throat, fluttering like it’s trying to escape confinement entirely. There’s a heaviness to him that Stiles doesn’t think has anything to do with the sleep that’s still clinging to him. He looks like the weight between his hands, cradling his mug, is as draining as holding up a bowling ball with just his pinky fingers. “I’m fixing him,” Stiles answers succinctly.

Derek raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

Stiles shrugs some more. His gaze drifts down to the folds of the tank top over Derek’s stomach, he wants to flatten his palm there, smooth it out. Derek looks so warm and defenseless, leaning against his counter, barefoot and weary, defeated and just waiting for someone to finish him off. “Something to do. Plus,” Stiles adds, sly and low, “I fix him, I know how to break him.”

“You want to… break him.” It’s not a question, more like a naked declaration that wishes it were uncertain in the least. Derek’s eyes are downcast and sad.

Stiles sighs, places his elbow on the counter, drops his chin into his hand and stares at the stubble on Derek’s cheeks, can practically feel the rasp of it against his mouth. “I don’t know. Something to do.” He’s really not malicious, he doesn’t think, just easily bored and inherently curious about how other people work. Since he doesn’t seem to.

Derek drops his chin against his neck and Stiles watches a slow breath move the weight of him. He doesn’t ask for anything else, has no more comments to make, almost seems to be rejecting Stiles’ presence simply by virtue of ignoring it.

Stiles stares down at the island, lifts up his other hand. It hasn’t left behind an outline of perspiration. He rubs his dry fingers against a dry palm. Stiles’ hands sweat; they’ve always sweat.

They don’t now. Now. Now everything is scorching, burning up sweat and tears before they can even make an appearance on his skin.

He lets out a gusty breath and says quietly, but without judgment, “You shouldn’t have done this.”

Derek’s eyes close, rim of the cup against his lip, expression pained. “It was my turn,” he says softly into the steam. Stiles watches him and Derek’s head drifts to the side before he wrenches it back, jaw tight, looking in Stiles’ direction but down at his chest now, where the scar tissue is resting under the cotton of his t-shirt. “To save you.”

“But you didn’t,” Stiles tells him blankly, but not meanly.

Anyone watching would’ve thought it was an upper-cut though, the way Derek’s whole body rocks with the impact. His eyes are closed again and he doesn’t look inclined to open them, not while Stiles is still there. His hand slowly curls around the lip of the counter behind him, holds on tightly. He still answers though, through some weird sense of debt or something else Stiles doesn’t understand, but he answers, says, “I know.”

Wip list is here!

#omgosh thank you so much for the KIND THINGS #they made me giddy #i cannot explain to you how much this fic should be done and would be if it didn't only exist for me #in this one section of the calendar year lol #that is not helping it. there's also.... i don't want to fix stiles at the end #i'm much less of a 'let's make it so this never happened' person and more of a 'let's live with it' person #and i just don't know how appealing that would be to anyone but me #i already have the last scene dialogue skeletoned - like they're endgame for sure - but they're also not... perfect y'know?#because love isn't the framework for stiles anymore and i KNOW that's not gonna be easy for anyone to deal with lol #i love it but i am also a weirdo so #sterek #teen wolf #!ask #wips #my writing

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