#I feel like this describes lydia more than stiles

[sundrop-writes]

Blood In The Water

Void!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Beg me for mercy - admit you were toxic.

Now I am the violence, I am the sickness.

Won’t accept your silence - beg me for forgiveness.

We’ll never get free, lamb to the slaughter.

What you gon do when there’s Blood In The Water?

Summary:

Being Stiles's best friend, you are incredibly worried about him when you figure out that he is quite literally not himself - and that the thing currently occupying his body could be destroying it in the process. When you approach him to show this concern, Void takes a particular interest in you. He's not capable of love, or even fondness, but he likes you.

And he likes the way your fear spikes when you talk about Stiles. So he makes you a deal - he'll agree to take care of this fleshy, mortal host, in exchange for something more precious, more rare, and more delicious than the meal you have brought for Stiles.

He wants your pain. He wants your tears.

Void!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader. Pining Best Friends. Extreme Emotional Angst, Hurt No Comfort. Set during Season 3 (with flashbacks to Season 1, Episode 11).

Word Count: 11,700

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: as it says above - this is pure angst, hurt NO COMFORT, please heed that warning, if this is not something you are into, please leave now; this is set during Season 3, but not during any particular episode; I guess I need to put warnings for demon possession and identity theft (even though for the entirety of the fic, the reader does know that Stiles is not himself on the basis of knowing him so well, and she is talking to Void ernestly); this fic is about Void and the Reader interacting and discussing the relationship and feelings between Stiles and the Reader; the reader and Stiles have had mutual romantic feelings for each other for a long time but never acted on them, and at the point when the fic begins, their relationship is described as long-term best friends; the reader uses she/her pronouns and is mentioned to wear a dress and high heels to the winter formal dance; the reader's race, hair colour, size or looks in general are not described in any way (Void does call the reader 'little' but it is meant to be emotionally condescending, rather than a description of her size); this fic DOES use Y/N (proudly so); mentions of Stiles not eating/being starved because Void refuses to participate in 'human pleasures' (and he considers food to be one of those); Void is a demon who is fed by pain and he enjoys the Reader's fear, sadness, embarrassment, emotional pain, and other negative emotions, and he can feel those emotions in the air as she experiences them, so he is encouraged to do and say things that prompt negative reactions from her; Void calls the reader 'sweet thing' and 'darling' and 'little girl'; passing mention of Stiles watching porn (but the general tone of this fic is not sexual); Void compares the reader to Stiles's 'mommy' (because she is the only one who has ever given him soft, 'maternal' comfort and understanding) - but it's not a Mommy kink thing (or maybe it is for Stiles, you don't know that); mentions of eating diary and meat being 'cruel' (but I am not a vegan, it's just Void commenting on the way humans do things); the reader considers cutting herself with a knife to 'feed' Void her physical pain (but Void wants emotional pain instead); Void asks the reader to relive a painful memory by telling him about it, therefore feeding him with her emotional pain; Void threatens the reader with physical harm and even murder (to make her more fearful, and to taunt Stiles, who is forced to witness all of this); there is flashbacks to the winter formal episode in S1; mentions of the reader being jealous because Stiles took Lydia to the dance (and the reader hates the jealousy it evokes in her because she doesn't want to pit herself against Lydia and she wants to be happy for Stiles); mentions of Lydia being attacked by Peter Hale (as is canon); mentions of alcohol - the reader takes one sip of alcohol but does not get drunk during the fic; mentions of drunk driving (the reader drives after that sip of alcohol and questions if this 'counts' as drunk driving, and other people are accused of driving drunk, but in this fic, drunk driving is not actually the cause of any accidents); Stiles gets into a life-threatening car accident - mentions of blood and grievous bodily injury; mentions of Stiles needing surgery due to the car accident; mentions of blood; graphic descriptions of a character being stabbed. I believe that's it?

A/N: I have a lot to say here, so strap in. First of all, you're probably wondering why you're seeing this now. That is because I have been going through a very bad patch of mental illness (fuelled by multiple things, including the state of my physical illness) and when that happens to me, I become like a big spinning top of agitation and bad energy. And I feel the need to work on a project to avoid bad practices like self harm. And after a lot of whirling around and only working on certain projects for a few minutes at a time, I was cleaning out my files just to keep my mind occupied, and I came across the pictures I had saved to make the moodboard for this fic and I was like 'I can't delete those yet because I wanna use those to make the fic cover'. So I decided to make the fic cover, and it spiralled into me editing the whole fic just to keep my agitated upset mind busy and focused on something other than the fact that I am upset. So - good for you guys. You get a new fic. As for the actual content of this fic - I wanted to mark it as both Void x Reader and Stiles x Reader, but I figured that wouldn't make sense to most people. Because this is about Stiles and the Reader having mutual crushes on each other for a long time, and Void enjoying the embarrassment of taunting them about it, as well as the pain that comes from their pining and the potential of hurting the other and forcing them to watch. And Void does take a kind of 'liking' to the Reader, but because he's a demon, it's not necessarily romantic? Idk. I just have a lot of fun writing demon characters as complete bastards (I will never get people who write characters like Void, Anti, Dark as secret softies - like please, write a villain as a villain. It's more fun that way). So please - enjoy my take on this awful bastard. I had a lot of fun writing it. (Also I would like to note that I wrote this before I saw the end of 3A so I thought the 'crashing the Jeep' thing was a totally organic idea on my part lmao.)

...

“Stiles hasn’t eaten in days.” 

You stated it very matter-of-factly, rather than asking if he had eaten or theorizing about it. It was something that you knew concretely. 

Usually, Stiles was someone who was very passionate about food. He complained about missing lunch and hated being rushed to eat rather than getting to enjoy his food if you were nagging him about being late and had somewhere to be. 

The only time you had ever seen him miss meals was when he got particularly sucked into his reading and researching. And usually, when his concentration finally broke, he would whine about his stomach hurting and only remember why when the smell of curly fries came under his nose because you had put the bag in front of him. 

But even in that case, he had never missed more than a single meal. 

You had never seen him go days without touching a single bit of food - without so much as mentioning something greasy he was craving or talking about a destination take-out spot that the two of you needed to go to on the weekend. 

You had to guess that it was around the time that He had taken control. Or at least, around about when He had stopped caring to pretend to be human. When He had stopped putting up a front. 

“Observant little thing, aren’t you?” He titled his head in that way that was so distinctly un-Stiles, giving you a small smirk as his words penetrated you with that utterly mocking tone. 

It was strange, staring at the face of your long-time best friend and referring to him in the third person. Starting to think about him as though he wasn’t even there when you were staring right at him. Though it had only been a few days, you had long since given up the hope that you were talking to Stiles. You knew that this was someone else - something else entirely. 

You were still clinging onto the hope that you could get Stiles through this and he wouldn’t be entirely damaged beyond recognition on the other side. 

Hence, why you were trying to feed him now. 

It had been at least four days since you had seen him take a single bite of food, and you had been carefully observing him the entire time. So you had arrived at his place today with an armful of Stiles’s favorite foods. You felt lucky to catch him alone while the others were out chasing leads - or perhaps, unlucky. Perhaps he would have eaten in front of them just to prove that he was still himself. But you were hoping to tempt him with the smell, at the very least. 

Surely, he had to be hungry? 

Laid out on the table in front of you was a variety of things - all kinds of things you knew would have had Stiles gorging himself in minutes. A disgustingly large and greasy double cheeseburger with curly fries and a strawberry milkshake, an extra large supreme meat lover’s pizza, an entire pack of Honey Buns, and a grocery store birthday cake - chocolate with vanilla icing. All of which elicited oddly painful memories for you, now that your best friend was being held hostage by a thousand year old demon. 

Everything from movie nights where the two of you would share a pizza and argue about what kind of toppings to get, to the times that the two of you would buy a birthday cake like this and eat it in his Jeep with no such occasion for it - just because you wanted to celebrate life and didn’t want to need a reason for such a treat. Nights when balancing it between your laps and eating with plastic forks was all the joy in the world that you needed. 

Nights before your life became so hellishly complicated. 

“Let me guess… you’re trying to tempt me?” He posed, moving his finger across the icing of the birthday cake, and then looking at the white glob on his finger with intense disgust before moving to wipe it off on a napkin. 

Of course, he wouldn’t even consider eating that small amount. He was taunting you. He knew that at this current moment, it was your greatest desire to see your friend eat - to know that even though you were entirely powerless against such a complicated and mysterious demonic force, you could do this one small thing in your power to take care of him. 

You couldn’t save Stiles, but you wanted to care for him - just for a moment. You wanted to make a difference - even if it was as small as a grain of sand in an hour-glass. You thought it would help. 

“Even you have to eat, don’t you?” You returned with a question. “You can’t risk your host dying, right?” 

It was something you had wondered. 

You hadn’t seen him drinking water either, and you didn’t think that he had slept at all. As far as you knew, he hadn’t attended to any of Stiles’s human needs. But according to the sallow, almost gray nature of his skin and the dark bags under his eyes - he wasn’t exactly in perfect health right now. So perhaps he did run the risk of actually killing Stiles altogether because he didn’t know how to take care of a human host. 

Void smirked as he felt that flash of fear - the utter terror that overcame you at the thought of Stiles dying from neglect. 

“Need I remind you, sweet thing?” 

He started, the nickname causing a shiver of creepiness down your skin, like the feeling of walking into a spiderweb. 

“I don’t eat the same deep-fried, fat filled crap that he does.” He looked across the table with disdain coating his features once again. “I feed upon the suffering of others.” 

These words caused a wicked chill down your spine. 

It was something that Scott had warned you of, but you hadn’t actually considered what it truly meant. 

“So by depriving Stiles of his worldly pleasures - his music, his laughter, his pornography - which he watches far too much of, by the way.” Void let out a devious chuckle at this, and you didn’t even have time to think about the implications of this before he continued. “And especially by depriving him of food and sleep, I get to feed off his precious suffering.” 

It was a terrible paradox. Void thrived while Stiles withered. 

“And as of late, I have been so deliciously full.” 

A lump formed in your throat - if you knew any words apt for this situation, you wouldn’t have been able to get them out anyway. Void’s smirk grew wider. Indulging in your suffering, in your fear for your best friend, your horror at these realizations - Void continued. 

“But - among all those things, you know what he misses most of all?” 

He posed, talking slowly, his voice calculated, mocking you with another head tilt. It was as though he was looking down upon you even though he was sitting in a chair at the kitchen table and you were standing across from him on the other side of the room. 

You choked on a miserable syllable - no words came out. Part of you wanted to know the answer very badly, and part of you wanted him to shut up. You simply shook your head in reply. 

“He misses you.” 

Void whispered these words as though it was a precious secret. And then - he let out a grand cackle of a laugh, bordering on a howl as he continued to mock you. 

Your insides shook, and you became foggy with confusion - how did Stiles miss you more than he missed food or water or sleep? How did he ‘miss you’ so much when you were standing right here in front of him? Did the presence of this horrid being keep Stiles from seeing you or hearing you? Was he trapped so terribly inside his own body? 

Was this like a coma for him? Would he not remember any of this when it was over?

You could only hope that was the case. 

“He begs and pleads every time I won’t let him touch you.” Void grinned, letting out another laugh - clearly pleased by the idea of Stiles’s misery. “He is so damn desperate to hold you. It’s hilarious, really. Especially because - at the same time, he’s terrified of what I’ll do if I get too close.” 

These words put a terrible knot in your stomach. 

You could only imagine how terrible it was for Stiles - he was a naturally touchy person, and now, someone else was controlling his body, keeping him from participating in the physical affection that he craved. Threatening to put his loved ones in danger if he did get the love that he desperately craved. 

You didn’t want to know what Void would do if you walked across the room to hug Stiles. But at the same time, it made you yearn to hold him, to squeeze him tight, to give him the comfort he was clearly so badly in need of. Especially now that you knew his consciousness was still in there, alert and alive, fighting to get out. 

“He’s so pathetic.” Void remarked softly. “He misses his Mommy, and… well, you’re the only one who ever treated him like a Mommy would. Isn’t that right?” 

This sentiment confused you entirely. 

You stared at him, gape-jawed, waiting for an explanation, and luckily - he did give you one. 

“You held him close, and kissed his boo-boos. You… you were the only one who told him he was good enough when he never fucking was.” 

You instantly wanted to argue this point, but you were more caught up on the overarching metaphor that Void was making. 

All of the individual points were true. You had done all of those things for Stiles. But you didn’t see how that made you Stiles’s Mommy. It just made you a good friend. 

“My Stiles is good enough.” You argued weakly, finally finding your words. “He’s a good person, and you can’t change that about him. He’s still in there. And he’s still going to be a good person after all this.” 

Void tutted his tongue, giving another mocking smirk. 

“Still at it.” He laughed. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?” 

You didn’t care to respond to that. 

“Beautifully relentless.” Void sighed, sounding almost dreamy as he said this. He sounded as if he admired this quality in you. 

Which he did. But he admired this about you for one specific reason. 

“See… that’s what makes the fear so fucking delicous.” He continued on, explaining. “When someone so bright, so full of hope finally gives up. When their spirit finally breaks. It permeates the air better than the smell of a rotting corpse - and it’s so fucking beautiful.” 

You chose not to respond to this - baffled by his words, and slightly frightened. 

Instead, you wondered something else. 

“What happens if Stiles doesn’t eat?” You asked. “You said that you’re full, but he’s still human. It’s still a human body. A body that you’re currently living in.” 

Void clapped his hands together a few times, slowly, giving you dry, sarcastic applause for your cleverness. 

“Good question. Clever little girl.” He congratulated you, causing another wave of ‘ick’ to roll through you at his condescending tone. “He is my host, but currently, I rule all. I give him strength, I eliminate all his weaknesses. I turn his pathetic human form into the ultimate weapon. With me inhabiting his body, he does not need to eat, sleep, or drink. He does not need such tiny fallacies as comfort.” 

“And what happens when you leave?” You posed. 

“If I choose to leave.” Void smirked at you. 

“When.” You ground out sharply, arguing, feeling braver the longer that you stood there and talked to him. 

To you, he wasn’t all that scary. 

Scott had warned you that Void was clever - that he would manipulate you and try to hurt you. But thus far, you hadn’t seen the route to any tricks. He seemed very straight-forward and honest. He seemed very plainly painted in his cruelty. 

“If I choose to leave this host and move onto another, then… I suppose that he’ll collapse.” Void shrugged, speaking about it as if it were no more interesting to him than a fly in his peripheral. “Without my strength keeping him alive, all the exhaustion, all the hunger, all the thirst - it will hit him, all at once. He may even die from the shock alone. His body will be too weak and fragile to handle it.” 

A surge of terrible anger flooded you. Perhaps it was fueled by fear, but either way, it drove you to smack your hand down onto the table, nearly smashing the birthday cake before you screamed out, finally lashing out on him. 

“Motherfucker!” You called Void the first cruel name that came to mind, and he didn’t give any indication of reaction at your throat scraping volume. “You stupid bastard! You are gonna get out and give Stiles his body back, and when you do, you’re gonna return it in good fucking condition! You understand me?” 

Void simply smirked, seeming entirely amused by your outburst. 

Of course, he wasn’t scared of you - a powerless human. You had nothing to threaten him with. Even if you had the powers of a werewolf, he still wouldn’t fear you. 

“There’s that spunk he’s always talking about.” Void said, an odd kind of fondness peeking through his voice that didn’t suit him. “You know, it’s almost… cute. I’m starting to understand why he likes you so much.” 

You only became more pissed off at being called ‘cute’ when you were so boiling angry. It was entirely aggravating - someone being so condescending toward your rage. 

Then, it hit you that the ‘he’ Void spoke about had to be Stiles. Did the two of them have conversations? Why would Stiles bother to praise you to a thousand year old demon? 

It caused more of your affection for Stiles to bubble up inside you, and you hated it. 

“Look, darling, because I like you, I’ll make you a deal,” Void posed, giving you yet another pet name that made you feel oddly disgusted. 

Stiles had called you plenty of friendly nicknames before - he had even called you ‘babe’ jokingly, on occasion. But ‘darling’ had never spilled from his lips toward you. It was just another horrible reminder that he was so terribly not himself. That the thing wearing his face, puppeting him around was not Stiles. 

“What deal?” You replied. 

It was best to move on and start thinking of ways to take care of Stiles - ways to get him out of this mess. 

“I’ll eat something for Stiles if you do something for me in return.” 

You knew that he kept his wording purposefully vague. And you knew that this was likely what Scott had talked about - his intention to trick you. But Void had you right where he wanted you - desperate, fearful. He was manipulating you using emotions that he didn’t have. 

“What do you want from me?” You dared to ask. 

He smirked. 

“I’ll tell you after Stiles has been fed.” 

You took a moment to consider it, knowing that it was likely a terrible idea to agree to anything when it came to him. But he had you backed into a corner. He knew that he could get you to do anything while holding the culpability of Stiles’s wellbeing over your head. 

“Oh no,” Void said, using an oddly soft, pained tone that varied so much from the emotionless, mocking tone he had been using before. He gripped at Stiles’s stomach, and let out a groan of pain that you knew had to be fake, as he professed before that he made Stiles’s body strong and invincible. “He’s begging for you to help him! You’re right, he hasn’t eaten in days, and he’s really feeling it now! It’s killing him!” 

He was using your empathy to manipulate you. 

“Stop it.” You protested, and it came out much weaker than you had intended - sounding much more like a plea than an order. 

He clutched his stomach tighter, and then, he looked up at you with the saddest water eyes you had ever seen - for a moment, a single breath of a moment - you saw Stiles, your Stiles break through. 

“Please, Y/N.” He said, crying out your name breathlessly. “Please, I’m so hungry.” 

“Fine, fine!” You cried in return, barely realizing how close to tears you were, seeing Stiles beaten down, weak, begging for you to help him. “Fine, you’ve got a deal!” 

In a moment of weakness, rushing to help Stiles, you reached out your hand to shake on it, signifying your promise - and in an instant, Void’s face shifted from that soft, vulnerable boy you knew back to that horrible demon, glaring at you as he reached out and grabbed your hand. You knew that many stories cautioned against making a deal with the devil, and you supposed that making a deal with Nogistune was just as bad. 

But it was done now. All you could do was hope that Stiles would benefit from this. 

A short while later, he had scoffed down a very large piece of cake and was halfway done with the cheeseburger, with you intently watching the whole time to make sure that there were no tricks involved on his part. You thought that the meal would mostly be silent, but he finally spoke up again, looking a bit less intimidating with some remnants of the meal smeared across his face. 

“You know, one thing I can credit humans for…” He said, swallowing before he picked up one of the fries. “Their talent for cruelty. Grinding up an animal, frying it in its own melted fat and then covering it in the stolen milk meant to suckle its babes - that is something I can admire.” 

“I’m sure vegans would love you.” You mumbled quietly, to yourself, not entirely sure if he could hear you. 

“You should join me.” He remarked after another bite - motioning toward the table full of food. “It’s more polite than standing over me like a statue, gawking at me the whole time.” 

You knew that with him holding Stiles hostage, you were in no position to refuse him. So you played right into his demands, pulling out the chair across from him without a word and flipping open the pizza box to grab a slice. You began eating in silence, and naturally - Void continued speaking. 

“This is almost like one of those little dates that you used to have with him, isn’t it?” He spoke quietly, mocking you once again. “At least, that’s what Stiles called them. Dates. He was deluded enough to believe that if he didn’t speak it aloud, his affection for you would simply be known.” 

This punched you in the gut, and you bit your tongue as you took your first bite of pizza. You sputtered with shock and Void continued to look amused. You never thought it was true. Scott always said that Stiles had feelings for you, and Lydia said so too - but you thought they were just theorizing. 

You had never, ever thought that your best friend and long time crush - the person you were in love with - would ever feel the same way about you. 

And you had to find out from a fucking demon. 

You remained silent, busying your mouth with eating as you tried to process the shocking news. 

“But we both really know what it was, huh? He was so pathetic… he didn’t want to be rejected by you, so he never even asked. He was never brave enough. Always so pitiful, and small. Your boy is just a coward.” 

Again, you didn’t say anything. Not playing into his game - unaware of the fact that he could feel your annoyance in the air. He didn’t need you to voice your emotions in order to gain satisfaction from mocking Stiles in your presence. 

So of course, he kept on going. 

“But not as pathetic as he is right now. Sweet and pathetic, begging for your life. Begging for me to spare you. It’s almost like a song. He keeps on telling me to stay away from you as if he has any power over this.” 

“Just shut up and eat.” You told him, sharp and even. 

He nodded and continued, seemingly content with the deal you had made - for now. 

And he finished the burger and fries, and two of the Honey Buns before scrunched up the wrapper on the last one, and then wiped his face with an utterly contented smile. Then he said: 

“Now, time for what I want.” 

You wiped off your face and hands with a napkin, done with your pizza - not having much of an appetite anyway with the situation at hand. There was a flash of worry in your mind. Wondering if he might ask you to kill someone for his benefit because they wouldn’t be expecting it to come from you. Or perhaps he might even ask for something sexual - 

He let out a bright chuckle - almost as if reading your mind and highly amused by your thoughts. 

“No, no. Don’t worry, darling. Nothing like that.” He told you. “I feed off of suffering. Precious pain. Anxiety, heartache, fear. Now it’s time for me to eat.” 

You thought he might say something like that. And you had come prepared with that in mind - prepared to give up anything to get Stiles back. 

You reached into the pocket of your jeans, pulling out a small pocket knife. It was one that Scott had given you shortly after you found out that he had become a werewolf. He had never wanted to hurt you, so - it was silver plated steel, and he had Stiles burn Wolfsbane smoke over the blade to poison it - just in case you ever needed a weapon against one of his kind. It would be useless against Void, and the Wolfsbane wouldn’t poison a human like you. 

But the blade was more than sharp enough to cut you. It would hurt you. It would provide the pain that Void desired. 

You shoved your sleeve up to your elbow and poised the blade at your skin, but Void reached out, stopping you. 

For a heart-stopping moment, you thought that somehow, Stiles had regained control. 

But when your eyes flickered up to his face, you saw nothing but Void’s dark amusement lingering in those eyes. This left you confused as he took the knife from your limp grip. 

“As amusing as that would be, sweet thing, it’s rather… boring.” He declared tiredly. “I had something else in mind.” 

Your throat dried up, and you didn’t even realize that you were trembling as you stared him down with terrible, anxious anticipation, waiting to see what he had in store for you. 

Void licked his lips, practically lapping up the delicious, sweet taste of your fear. 

He pocketed the knife and walked around the table toward you. You resisted the urge to get up and run away as he bracketed so close to your side, leaning on the table and tucking his face close to your cheek. Being this close to him, as close as you had been to Stiles since he had been taken hostage - you could almost be tricked by the faint smell of the familiar body wash coming off his skin, by the warmth that you knew to be so human. 

But this wasn’t Stiles. A thought that only made it all feel so much worse. 

It caused you to hold back tears. 

“No, no, darling.” He whispered against your cheek, causing your throat to clench up again. “If I wanted your pain, I could have it. I could take it.” 

Fuck. What had you gotten yourself into? 

You held back a fearful whimper, and Void joyfully continued. 

“I could smack you, punch you, make you bleed.” 

He went on - the confidence of his words causing your trembling to become more apparent as your heart pounded in your chest. You considered running, but that would mean abandoning Stiles. You came here to check on him - to fight for him. You couldn’t chicken out now. 

“I could take your pathetic little knife and stab you, over and over again while Stiles screams and begs for mercy. I do love it when he begs for your life - he’s so much more desperate when it comes to you.” 

Dear god. Would he actually kill you just to force Stiles to watch? Did Stiles have to be conscious for something like that? 

Would he force Stiles to live for the rest of his life with the guilt of not being able to stop your murder? With him in control, would Stiles even live that much longer? 

“But no. That’s not the game I want to play. Not right now, at least.” 

You hated that he likely saw the breath of relief as it flexed from your chest. 

“What -what do you want, then?” You asked, your throat still clenched by fear, making your words come out choked and weak. 

He put a hand on your cheek - one that felt all too familiar. The hand you had held while walking to class, or cuddling on the couch. The hand that dismissively waved in front of your face when you told him that he had come up with another horrible idea. Void turned your face toward him, and you were then up close and personal with the horrible sight of a pain-fueled demon wearing your sweet best friend’s face. 

“I want your tears.” 

Of course. Emotional pain, rather than physical. You would dare to say that it would be even more potent. 

Good thing you were already so close to crying. 

You would just have to spend a few more minutes thinking about Stiles trapped in there, helpless-

“Tell me about the accident.” He declared, smirking, finding the whole ordeal very satisfying. 

“No.” You immediately replied. 

It was too painful. You couldn’t even think about it, it was too much- 

“No?!” He screamed in your ear, causing you to flinch. “Nobody tells me ‘no’! You promised me something, you stupid little bitch. Now hold up your end of the deal.” 

Sadly, he was right. You had made a deal with him - and if this was part of carrying it out… you would have preferred the pocket knife. 

Even just thinking about that night - the blood, the twisted metal, the terror you had felt. The anxiety, the waiting. It had all been so horrible. It had been hell. A worse hell than a dinner date with a demon who was wearing your best friend as a human skin suit. 

Already, Void felt a deep satisfaction as those emotions began to permeate the air around the two of you. To him, it was the most beautiful kind of poison. He took a deep whiff, and then leaned in close again, running his nose along your hairline to sniff you. 

You shrugged away from the touch, but didn’t have far to go without falling off your chair completely. You were happy when he pulled away again - feeling used and wishing for nothing more than Stiles’s comforting touch and assuring words. 

“Perfect.” He mumbled quietly to himself. “You know, Stiles hardly remembers any of it. The night is almost completely blank in his mind.” 

You didn’t know that. After the hospital, the two of you had never bothered to talk about it in order to compare stories. Like you always did, the two of you just moved on. You looked forward to brighter days, thankful that your friendship was still intact. 

“But I know that you remember everything. Every. Single. Last. Detail.” Void said, giving another terrible laugh. 

He grabbed onto the back of your chair, and using a strength that you knew didn’t belong to Stiles, he roughly tugged on it, forcing it away from the table and spinning you to face him. He came back around to stand in front of you - now, he would be the one standing to loom over you, watching you while you provided him with a delicious meal. 

“So, come on,” He prodded. “I want to hear the whole story. And you better not leave anything out.” 

He stood there in complete satisfaction, his arms crossed as he grinned down at you with a devilish smile. 

You took a deep breath, fidgeting with your fingers for a moment. You gathered your courage, and then you began to speak. 

This is for Stiles, you assured yourself. For Stiles. 

“Well, it was the night of the winter formal.” You started off. “And when I saw Stiles screech out of the parking lot in his Jeep at top speed-” 

“No, no.” Void shook his head, cutting you off. “I said start at the beginning.” He scolded you sharply. “That’s not the beginning, is it? I want all the details. Go back to the beginning of the night.” 

“Are you serious?” 

At first, you were utterly confused. He asked you to tell him about the accident. What did a high school dance have to do with a car accident? 

“Of course, darling.” He smirked at you. 

Then, it hit you. He didn’t just want the gorey details. He wanted every ounce of your suffering. He wanted Stiles to suffer too. Especially if he said that Stiles didn’t remember it. He wanted you to recount the entire night to Stiles from your perspective. It was why he had brought up Stiles’s ‘affection’ for you. 

He wanted both of you to suffer in the misery that you had been in love with each other for so long and not been together. The stupidity that you were both blind idiots who kept each other from happiness the whole time. 

So you took a breath, and you told your story how he wanted to hear it, starting from the beginning of the night. 

… 

You were utterly miserable. 

It was one of the biggest dances of the year (well, aside from Prom and Homecoming…) and you didn’t have a date. You had spent a huge chunk of money, your savings from a crappy minimum wage job waiting tables, on a gorgeous dress and shoes, hoping that Stiles would ask you to the dance. But he was going with Lydia. 

You guessed that you had to be happy for him. He had been crushing on her since the third grade, and he was finally going on a date with her. A good best friend would be happy for him. 

But naturally, you were still trying to look your absolute best, maybe, selfishly, in the hope that he would see you from across the room and realize that he had made the wrong choice. Lydia was an amazing, sweet girl - and you genuinely hated the type of jealousy that this was making you feel. 

You knew that logically, you had no claim over Stiles. He was just your friend, and he was more than free to go on dates with other girls. It was downright toxic of you to not ask him to the dance and then get upset when he happily went with someone else as his date. 

But you tried not to think about that as you put the finishing touches on your look. You had gone all out with your best hair and make-up to compliment your expensive crystal blue satin dress. Whether it was to make yourself feel better or to try and capture Stiles’s attention - you still weren’t entirely sure. 

“Lip-gloss?” Allison appeared behind you, holding a hand out, looking for the aforementioned product. 

You handed it to her and she leaned down, looking into the mirror of your vanity while applying it. She had told you that getting ready at her own house would have simply been ‘too weird’ because she was fighting with her family, and she wanted some calm down time. So she had asked to get ready with you, with the offer that Jackson could give you both a ride from there. 

“Look, I’m sorry.” She said, feeling too awkward in the silence as you applied your mascara, focusing on your work and not looking at her in the mirror. She knelt down beside you, guilt written across her face. “If I had known that you liked Stiles, I wouldn’t have set him up with Lydia.” 

“It’s not a big deal.” You remarked. “Like you said, you didn’t know.” After a moment, you added on: “It’s kind of… good. Like a relief. I almost feel like it’s less pressure.” You shrugged. “I can just go and have fun without worrying about impressing him.” 

You had been lying to yourself. You absolutely hated it with every fiber of your being. You didn’t want to be angry with Allison, but you knew that she was better friends with Lydia than she was with you. That’s why she hadn’t known about your feelings for Stiles before now. When she had asked why you seemed so upset about the news that the two were going to the dance together, you told her, and she explained with a sour, sad face that she had set them up. 

You hated it, but you couldn’t help thinking that this was the first step to Stiles and Lydia becoming a thing - the first act in them dating for long months while you resented Lydia for stealing something you once saw as yours. 

And you hated yourself for being that kind of person. 

Allison chuckled at this. 

“Yeah… Well, Scott’s not going at all, so none of us get to go with the person we want to be with.” She said in a deeply sad tone, obviously aching from her own problems. 

… 

“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Void commented, drawing you from the memory. “A pretty girl spends too much money on a dress, trying to impress some moron who won’t even notice it.” 

He was mocking Stiles again. 

“And then you had to see him with her.” 

You nodded. 

You could picture it so perfectly in your mind. Getting out of Jackson’s car and seeing Stiles rush to open the door for her - the way he smiled at her, the way he looked at her like she held the world on the edges of her lips. You wanted nothing more than for him to look at you like that. Her perfect ‘strawberry blonde’ hair fluttering in the wind as they walked arm-in-arm across the parking lot. 

It caused the most awful aching pain in your chest that you had ever felt. You didn’t truly know how precious Stiles was to you until you saw him with someone else. 

You knew Jackson was aching too, for much the same reason. And when he had offered you a swig of his drink, you took it. But it wore off too soon for your tastes and you didn’t have more. So for the better part of the night, you were forced to feel your pain while his was drowned out by the booze. 

“Tell me. Tell me how it made you feel.” Void egged you on, wanting you to say it out loud even though your pain was all too palpable in the air. 

“Like I was dying inside,” You answered, your throat tight but - still no tears yet. “Like all good had drained from the world. Like I had lost the most precious thing in my life and I would have to sit at the sidelines watching a perfect story play out when I was supposed to be a part of it.” 

Void took a deep breath, sniffing the air again. And then he chuckled. 

“Your pathetic teenage angst is… so amusing.” He grinned at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do tell me more.” 

You had no clue that somewhere inside of there, Stiles was hit with his own wave of intense sadness - something else for Void to feed off of. He had no clue that you had been in love with him for so long. He had no clue how many opportunities he had missed out on to tell you about his feelings - how long he could have been happily dating you. 

He hated how much time the two of you had missed out on. 

Void sat contently between Stiles’s complicit misery and your renewed angst as you continued the story. 

… 

You had moped around all night. 

You thought perhaps the only person more miserable than you at that dance was Scott - stuck hiding in the shadows, forced to watch Allison dance with Jackson while pretending he wasn’t even there. 

But eventually, he too got his way after making a huge scene that even stopped the band for a moment - and left Coach feeling embarrassed when everyone thought that he went off on a homophobic screaming tirade because Scott was dancing with Danny. Good thing Beacon Hills was pretty progressive. 

After spending all night on the bleachers on the verge of tears, you decided to leave to get yourself a chocolate bar from the vending machine - nothing goes better with sorrow than chocolate, right? Well, perhaps Jackson had a point in pairing his sorrow with liquor. But you weren’t at that point yet. 

You were considering just calling it a night altogether. But you saw Stiles standing by himself, sans Lydia, and you figured it was a good time to make your move, if you were going to make one. 

You wandered over to him shyly. 

You had been feeling so down about yourself, you didn’t notice the way his eyes traced over every inch of you with awe - the way his lips parted with slight shock and wonder at how beautiful you looked that night. 

Just as he was about to tell you so, you spoke up. 

“So… where’s Lydia?” You asked. 

“Oh, uh - she went to go find Jackson.” He said, disappointment seeping through every single inch of his voice. 

“Naturally.” You replied. 

You wanted to rant and scream about how she wasn’t good enough for him if she was going to ditch him for a guy who supposedly didn’t even want her anymore. 

Your eyes strayed over to Allison and Scott on the dance floor, looking at each other with nothing but affection - clearly, only thinking of the other person, so caught up in their own little bubble. She didn’t care that Jackson had ditched her. A small flare of jealousy went through you. 

You wished that could be you and Stiles. 

“Do you wanna dance?” You asked Stiles, hoping that you could have your moment, even if it meant stealing him away from Lydia (when she clearly didn’t care). 

He gave you a shy grin. “Okay.” 

You grabbed his hand and led him out to the dance floor, and his hands found a natural place on your hips while you softly draped your arms around his neck. The two of you swayed to the slow music for a moment before you spoke again. 

“This is nice.” You commented, smiling. 

Though it had felt impossible only an hour ago, you actually felt happiness creeping in. Standing there underneath the coloured lights, dancing with the one person you had wanted the whole time. It was nice. There was still a lick of mourning lingering in your chest. You knew that Stiles still only viewed you as a friend, and you weren’t sure if you could ever gather that courage to take the leap and tell him about how you truly felt. As much as you wanted to just pull him close and kiss him. 

“You know, you were the one person I actually wanted to dance with tonight.” You continued on. “And-” You cut yourself off with a sigh, not wanting to sound too vulnerable. 

“Yeah.” Stiles replied - though he sounded oddly distant and thoughtless. 

When you looked at his face again, you realized that he was staring at something over your shoulder, and you craned your neck to see that he was gawking at his watch. 

“Ugh, really?” You scoffed, pushing him away. “Is dancing with me so awful that you feel the need to time it?” 

“No.” He shook his head furiously, hating what you were accusing him of. “That’s not - look, Lydia’s been gone for over ten minutes! I’m worried.” 

You shook your head, sighing deeply in defeat. Of course he was still thinking about her. 

“Did you ever consider that maybe she found Jackson? That maybe they’re off somewhere making out? That she just ditched you because she doesn’t give a shit about you?” You argued, full of pain, your voice raising in volume to the point where you attracted stares from others on the dancefloor. 

A look of pure pain streaked across Stiles’s face at your words. 

“Whatever.” Stiles shrugged. “I’m going to find her. Because I actually care about her. And because I trust my gut.” He sharply bumped your shoulder as he passed, leaving you feeling more rejected and horrible than ever.

You turned and fled from the room, scurrying away from the many eyes on you once you realized that people were still staring. 

… 

“His gut.” Void chuckled. “He always did have good instincts, didn’t he?” 

He did. Stiles had amazing instincts. 

Because you had been assuming the worst - believing that Lydia had ditched Stiles to go and make-out with Jackson, when in reality, she had been bleeding to death on the lacrosse field. Stiles had been more than right to go looking for her. 

Given, that was before you even knew about the existence of werewolves and all the other bullshit that ran ramped in Beacon Hills. But it didn’t make you feel like any less of a horrible person when you found out. 

“Did you ever consider what a selfish bitch you are?” 

Void continued on when you didn’t speak, seamlessly picking up with his mocking. Of course, he knew all the weak spots to hit. He could feel right where you were soft and vulnerable - right where you flexed with hurt under his taunts. 

“Whining about not getting to dance with some dork while an innocent girl was bleeding to death? Talk about priorities.” 

“I didn’t know.” You replied, your voice stiff. 

You knew it was a poor excuse. You knew that ultimately, you were selfish. You should have gone with Stiles to look for Lydia. You should have helped. 

Distantly, caged up inside of Void - Stiles was eternally thankful about that argument. He was thankful that you had been distanced from all of it, kept away from Peter Hale’s hungry claws. He would have gone insane, having you and Lydia in hospital beds, side by side, not knowing what the fate of either of you would be. 

“Yeah, you can just keep telling yourself that same bullshit, sweetheart.” Void said, his voice a low whisper. “But we both know what you are. Maybe in reality, you’re not that much different from someone like me.” 

Maybe that realization hurt more than anything. 

Maybe that was his intention - to hit you with a truth that would wound you. 

“You know… he still thinks about you in that dress.” Void spoke quietly again, carefully, painstakingly choosing each word. “How… beautiful you looked. His perfect rare crystal.” 

He put emphasis on each word in a way that sent chills down your spine. His sharp gaze coming from Stiles’s honey whiskey eyes felt infinitely darker, and rather than feeling treasured as something good, something valuable like you usually did when Stiles looked at you - you felt filthy. You felt a sense of fear, knowing that Void would use Stiles precious appreciation of you to hurt him. To hurt both of you. 

“That was the night he knew for certain that he was in love with you.” Void let out another laugh - dark and low. “The night he knew that he loved you more than he ever loved Lydia. She was laying in front of him dying, and still - all he could think about was protecting you. Protecting you from the threat.” 

Your throat clenched up, and anything you were going to say was lost. 

“I guess he’s selfish too, isn’t he?” Void posed. “You two are perfect for each other, I suppose.” 

Then, he put on a weak, small, wobbling voice, and began to mock the unique, crippling fear that Stiles had experienced that night. 

“Where’s Y/N? I need to find her. I need to protect her. Is she next?” 

Nausea tightened in your stomach. 

A unique tightness clutched at your chest. 

Stiles had known he was in love with you that night. 

He had been trying to protect you. 

Is that why he had fled from the dance so suddenly? 

“Ask me the question.” Void grinned, entirely excited now that you had put it together, made the realization. “Come on, ask me the question. We both know you want to.” 

“Why are you doing this?” You choked out. 

This was not the question he wanted. 

But still, he indulged you. 

“I told you.” He said firmly. “I like pain.” 

He took a step forward then, leaning down, bracketing his hands by your hips on the wooden kitchen chair’s seat, his face tight in your personal space once again. 

“Now… ask me the question.” 

You took a shallow breath. 

You hated how intimidating he was. You hated knowing that if it had actually been Stiles who was this close to you, it would have given you butterflies or even turned you on, but instead - you felt anxiety having him this close. 

You couldn’t help but to give him what he wanted. 

“What really happened that night?” You whimpered out, terrified of that answer. “Why did Stiles leave the dance?” 

Void grinned. 

“What a brilliant question. You are such a clever girl.” 

… 

All of it happened so fast. 

Stiles spotted Lydia from afar - her red hair very distinctive. Then he saw it - a humanoid shape transforming into a big, black beast. Razor sharp teeth and claws. 

He begged for her life, and he had been given one chance to spare her - a single call to Jackson. Luckily, the asshole picked up. (It was the one time in Stiles’s life that he had ever been thankful for Jackson’s existence.) 

And then, he was being kidnapped, forced into his own car and being forced to drive to God knows where. 

Of course, he was far too busy with the panic of it all, and he didn’t notice you. 

He didn’t notice you - stumbling into the parking lot, looking for him in order to apologize for what you had said. He didn’t notice you watching with suspicion and confusion as his Jeep pulled out of the parking lot at top speed. He didn’t notice you going into your purse for your phone, looking to call his dad, considering making a report to him about it - only to find Jackson’s keys in your purse from earlier that night. Because when you had spotted him still drinking more than an hour into the dance, so sloshed that he could barely stand, you had demanded his keys from him, telling him that you wouldn’t let him drink and drive. 

Stiles hadn’t noticed you getting into Jackson’s car and stealing it in order to trail behind him to see where he was going - just in time to miss Jackson running through the parking lot screaming for help with Lydia’s limp body in his arms. 

Stiles was too busy with panic and anxiety to notice any of that, far too busy wondering if he was going to get out of this alive. And now, he was driving down a deserted backroad with Peter Hale in his passenger’s seat, who was making entirely sexist remarks about how Lydia would end up ripping his throat out ‘twice a month’ if she survived The Bite. 

“You know, you didn’t have to protect her from it.” Peter droned on, increasing Stiles’s anxiety and annoyance. “It’s going to make her whole life better. She’ll thank me for it when she’s ready.” 

“You should have just left her out of this.” Stiles bit back. “Lydia is a good girl. She doesn’t deserve any of this.” He huffed. “If she dies, I swear to god, I’ll-” 

“You’ll what?” 

Peter chuckled, grinning, seeming amused by Stiles’s vague, likely unbackable threats. Stiles ground his teeth, not responding - hating that they both knew he wouldn’t be able to follow through on anything he threatened. Not when Peter could kill him with one clean swipe of his claws. 

“You’re protective. I do admire that in a man.” He paused, thinking. “Though, I suppose… you’re not quite a man, are you? At least not yet.” 

Stiles bit his tongue, not wanting to make any further threats that he couldn’t live up to. He had seen what Peter could do, and unfortunately - he knew that he didn’t have the physical force to fight against him. 

So what the hell could he do? 

That was the question that made Stiles’s mind tink on anxiously, convincing him further that he just might end up dead tonight. 

“What about your other pretty friend?” Peter wondered aloud, changing the subject suddenly in a way that confused Stiles. “Are you just as protective of her?” 

“What? Are you talking about Y/N?” Stiles’s heart began pumping even more viciously with anxiety, absolutely terrified that you were on Peter’s radar. 

He hated that he knew Peter could hear it - that spike in his heart rate that indicated his fear, his weakness. 

“The one in the blue dress.” Peter told him, seeming almost disinterested in the conversation as he picked at his nails. Stiles’s heart thumped harder in affirmation, and Peter continued. “She wears that lovely vanilla perfume-” 

“Leave her out of this!” Stiles screamed at the top of his lungs, rage overtaking him so suddenly that he almost swerved off the road - Peter reached over and corrected this, rolling his eyes at the outburst. 

Stiles clenched his jaw tightly and looked ahead at the road, fuming. 

(Driving behind him in Jackson’s car, you wondered why his driving was suddenly so erratic.) 

“You leave her the hell alone.” Stiles huffed, praying that there was some finality to his words. 

“That would be a little difficult, considering that she’s been following us for half a mile.” Peter grinned. “I am going to have to speak to her about this whole matter when we arrive.” 

Stiles thought that Peter was bluffing - trying to use you as leverage to get him to co-operate, just as he had done with Lydia. But when he squinted into the rearview mirror, he saw… Jackson’s car? And a flash of blue in the driver’s seat that must have been your dress. 

Fuck. 

He was so screwed. 

“What do you mean ‘speak to her’?” Stiles questioned, entirely panicked. 

“Well, we can’t have her running back to the Argents to warn them.” Peter smirked. “Perhaps, I can convince her how beneficial the Bite would be to her-” 

“No!” 

Stiles screamed, his voice filling up the entire cab of the Jeep with the might of his protection toward you. 

“Enough! Okay? Enough. You can do whatever you want with me - I’ll do whatever you want, I swear. And then you can kill me when you’re done with me so I won’t blab.” His voice tightened up around these words, slightly frightened to resign himself to this fate, but he was willing to do whatever it would take to protect you. “Just leave her the hell alone.” 

“And if I don’t?” Peter asked, taunting, clearly enjoying the emotional reaction prompted from Stiles trying to protect you. “What can you possibly do about it?” 

Think. Stiles wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel. Think, think, think, Stiles! You’re supposed to be the clever one. 

An idea popped into his head. 

It wasn’t clever. It wasn’t good. But it was the only idea that he had. 

And when he took one last glance in the rearview mirror and realized that you were about twenty feet back - more than enough to hit the brakes in time - he resigned himself to it. 

He put his seatbelt on, and then - he harshly turned the wheel toward the nearest tree and - he gunned it. 

… 

The crash shocked you. 

You slammed on the brakes as quickly as you could, and came to a stop a few feet behind the tree that Stiles had rammed into. You stumbled out of the driver’s side door in shock, tears in your eyes as you wandered toward the Jeep - which was now nothing more than a heap of twisted metal, smoking, the horn blaring loudly where it was crumbled against the tree. 

“Stiles?” You called out, praying that he would answer you. “Stiles?” 

You slowly came around the car, finally able to get a good view of him through the smashed driver’s side window. 

He was entirely still, collapsed against the air-bag that had emerged from the steering wheel, blood smeared all over the white material. So much blood. It painted the smashed front windshield, dripped through his shirt. He was so still. He wasn’t moving. He-

“Stiles?” 

When he didn’t respond, you let out a loud sob. 

“Stiles? Come on - you - you have to-!” You couldn’t contain another sob as it tore through you, making you utterly breathless. 

You had been so distraught that you didn’t notice the passenger side door was wide open, even though there was not a single trace that anybody had been sitting there. Even if you had noticed, you likely would have chalked it up to the door being flung open from the force of the crash. 

Your ears were pounding with blood from the shock and you didn’t even notice the wolf-like howls echoing into the night above you. 

…

“I thought he was dead.” 

Your body couldn’t contain another sob when you got to this part in the story - finally providing Void with the tears he so desired. 

As you went over the horrors of that night in your mind, they now poured freely down your face. Your pain was made even worse with the stunning realization: Stiles had done it all to protect you. Put himself in danger, gone through so much pain - all to protect you. 

Void smiled at you - a terrible, haunting grin that he mocked you while wearing the face of the man you loved the most. 

“So beautiful.” He hummed, reaching out and wiping your tears - not to comfort you, of course. He gathered the wetness on his fingers and brought it to his lips, licking it. At this, he gave a satisfied sound. “So much pain.” 

“Are we done now?” You asked, wanting to be alone to wallow in your pain. 

Truthfully - you wanted nothing more than the comfort of Stiles. You wanted him to hold you and tell you that everything would be okay in the soothing way that he always did. You wondered if hugging Void would feel the same. You wondered if you could close your eyes and pretend, even for a moment. 

“No.” He told you, enjoying the extra little bit of anguish he could wring from you by telling you this. “Because that wasn’t the worst part, was it?” 

…

“Look, Noah, it’s probably nothing.” Melissa said firmly, doing her best to try and soothe the fellow parent. Sheriff Stilinski had already been at the hospital to take a report on what had happened to Lydia when something else came over the radio - a car accident report about a crash involving a blue Jeep. “Stiles isn’t the only person in this town who drives a-” 

Before she could even get the words out, the paramedics came bursting into the ambulance bay, wheeling in a bloodied, unconscious Stiles on a stretcher with you walking beside them, holding his hand. 

“My boy.” The Sheriff sobbed, rushing to reach them. 

Melissa knew that the doctors would likely need to get him up to the ER with the kind of condition that he was in, so she moved to escort you and the Sheriff to the waiting room. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder, and you refused to be pulled away - you refused to let go of his hand. 

“He needs me.” You bawled, tears still steadily streaming down your face. “He needs me!” 

“Let them work, sweetie, just-” Melissa argued gently, trying to be understanding about the kind of shock you were in. 

“He needs me! He needs me!” 

She held you back, tearing your grip off of Stiles so that he could be escorted to the ER. Melissa began to cradle you comfortingly, rubbing a hand on your shoulder. 

There was only a short moment of silence before-

“What the hell happened?” The Sheriff turned to you, barking the words loudly, obviously yearning for answers about how Stiles had gotten hurt. 

“I - I don’t know.” You answered meekly, feeling intimidated by him. 

“Was he drinking? Were you two partying?” He screamed, getting closer into your space. 

Quickly, Melissa stepped between the two of you, putting a hand on Sheriff Stilinski’s chest to keep him at bay. 

“Noah, stop it-” 

“Was he drinking?” He pressed, forcing the words out slower, as though you were too dumb to understand. 

“What? No!” You quickly replied. “Stiles doesn’t drink!” 

(That had been a lie. You had seen him drink a few times at parties. But you knew that he was a firm proponent of designated sober drivers because of how many accident reports his father had filed from drunk drivers that involved death.) 

“Even if he was, I would never let him drive! Stiles would never let anybody drink and drive because that’s what you taught him!” 

You felt a slight bit of guilt, knowing that you had sipped on Jackson’s bottle and gotten behind the wheel. You wondered if that one single sip made you guilty of the crime that Stiles was so very much against. 

Before you could dwell on it too much, you continued. 

“I took Jackon’s keys from him to keep him from drunk driving! That’s how I followed Stiles in the first place.” 

“You used my car?” Jackson appeared behind you suddenly, taking on an accusatory tone. 

Everyone ignored him. 

“Well? Where was he going? What was he doing? How the hell did this happen?”

“I. Don’t. Know.” You ground out slowly. “It’s not like it was my fault!” 

… 

Void let out another astrid laugh. 

“Oh, but it was.” He grinned. “It was all your fault. How did it feel lying to a police officer about the fact that you almost killed his son?” 

“I wasn’t lying.” You replied, your throat gripped by tears. “I didn’t know.” 

You were glad that you hadn’t known the truth at the time. You weren’t sure if you could have faced the Sheriff, knowing that Stiles’s near death experience had been all your fault. 

“Would you look the Sheriff in the eyes and tell him that now?” Void asked. “Or would you apologize? Tell him that it’s all your fault that stupid, infatuated Stiles crashed his car into a tree trying to save you?” 

“I-” You choked out, truly unsure what to say. “I don’t know.” 

“Would you have taken his place?” Void snipped, quick to berate you with more questions. 

“What?” You parroted back, slightly confused. 

“Would you have taken his place?” He repeated. “You - caught up in that heap of twisted metal, carted off to the hospital to be poked and prodded by doctors, cut up, barely alive? Him - crying at your bedside like a pathetic idiot?” 

You had never considered it. You didn’t think it was wise to dwell on the past or mull-over hypotheticals like that. But truthfully - you thought that what had happened to you was worse. You thought that Stiles got the better end of it, sleeping through most of it while you had to steep in your pain. 

“Y-yes.” You said, hesitating slightly, feeling as though this was the proper, kind answer - saying that you would have taken the physical pain for him - that you would have laid in the bed and taken all of it in his place if you could have. 

“Uh-oh.” Void said, shaking his head. “Nobody likes a liar, Y/N.” 

How he knew that you were lying, you had no clue. 

But you were eager to move on from it before he prodded you about it any further. So you quickly moved on with your story. 

“And then, there was the waiting.” You told him. “We had to wait hours for him to come out of surgery, wondering if he was going to live. And then I waited for weeks by his bedside, wondering if he was ever going to wake up.” 

You swallowed around a painful knot in your throat as you remembered it. 

“So perfectly pathetic, isn’t it?” Void commented. “The way that you showed up to that hospital every single day - spent nights sleeping beside him in an uncomfortable plastic chair, just waiting… every single day waiting to see if he was going to wake up. Or rather - seeing if he was going to finally slip away. Waiting to see if he was finally going to die.” 

You let out more tears and Void sniffed the air again, taking a deep breath, enjoying the depth of your pain. 

“I wish I could have been there.” He remarked. “Every single day, you mourned over him. You cried for him. What a waste of sweet suffering.” 

He let out another laugh. You go do nothing more but sit there and let him mock you, let him indulge in the suffering that you had promised him. 

“You showed up every single day and he didn’t even know it. You talked to him, read to him, played him music… not even knowing if he could hear you. Thinking that he could hear you, but just… hinging it all on that tiny ray of hope.” 

You thought for certain that Void would confirm then and there that Stiles had never heard you when he had been comatose, because before he had said that your hope being broken was ‘delicious’. 

But what he did next hurt so much more.

Because of course, he knew the worst, most perfect ways to hurt you.  

“You read him The Velveteen Rabbit… because he said that his Mommy used to read it to him.” 

Void said, mocking deep in his voice. And then, he put on a shrill impression of you as he spoke again - repeating word for word what you had said to Stiles when you had been at his bedside. Private words that had been meant only for Stiles. 

“‘Stiles, you have to wake up. You have to wake up so we can be together again. Look, I know I messed up before, but… I really like you. I might even love you. Fuck it - I do love you. I’m in love with you, and you - you have to wake up so that I can spend the rest of my life loving you.’” 

He burst into laughter with these last words, cutting right through you. 

“Well, newsflash!” He screamed, startling you with his sudden volume, shaking you. “Stiles isn’t going to wake up this time. He’s never coming back again. You’re going to spend the rest of your life alone.” 

“He will.” You said weakly, knowing how defeated you sounded. “He’ll come back. He’ll come back to me, I know it.” 

You and Void both knew that you were trying to convince yourself with these words. 

Void pulled up his shirt, showing off the long, jagged scar in the middle of Stiles’s stomach - the scar he had from the accident. 

“See this? This is his human weakness.” Void stated. “I came along and I made him into something so much better. I made him strong. I made him-” 

“You ruined him!” You screamed, finally standing from your chair, hyper charged with your own rage now. “You took away everything that made him good - his sweetness, his kindness, his empathy. You-” 

“No, sweetheart.” Void grabbed your face, shutting you up and causing sharp shocks of pain across your head as he roughly jostled you. “Those things have always been his downfall. His stupid kindness and empathy caused him to crash himself into a fucking tree tyring to protect you. You - a dumb bitch who is still willing to put herself this close to a demon who could gut her in a second without a single care.” 

You held your breath. You waited for him to do something more - to truly attempt to harm you. 

And then, after a paralyzing second of staring into those dead eyes - he let you go again. You took a step back. You should have run - you should have run, and run, until you found Scott or someone else. But he was right. You were a dumb bitch. Even now, you couldn’t abandon Stiles. 

“You know, it’s even the same thing right now.” Void grinned. “The minute he gets back the slightest bit of control, he keeps trying to crash the damn car. He keeps trying to protect you!” 

He burst into laughter again, and your insides shook with fear. 

You knew that Stiles ‘crashing the car’ this time would only end with him dying. And you weren’t sure which was worse - him living in there, trapped and tortured while a demon controlled his body - or him killing himself to end all potential harm that Void could do to you and anybody else. 

“Even now, he’s begging me to shove this pathetic little knife into his neck,” He said, taking your knife out of his pocket and raising it up to his jugular. “Just so that there won’t be a single chance of me hurting you.” 

Your chest jumped. 

Upon instinct, you stepped forward and grabbed his wrist, attempting to pull the knife back - but of course, Void was much stronger than you, and his grip didn’t budge. Not even a slight bit. 

Your heart raced as you began to panic. 

“Please, don’t-” You muttered out, knowing that begging was likely your only course of action, whether Void or Stiles was the one in control. 

He grinned. “What are you going to do to stop me?” 

You had an idea. A terrible one. 

You leaned in, sealing your lips onto his - feeling chapped skin against yours and for a moment thinking that you had a one-way ticket to getting stabbed. But then, you felt the stiff, tense form underneath you soften up. You felt a gentle sigh, a sigh of relief leave Stiles’s lips as he pressed back, pushing into the kiss as though he had been yearning for this for centuries. 

The hand holding the knife to his neck shook - sharp spasms going through the muscles as he battled with himself. And after a moment, he dropped the object to the floor with a quiet clatter. Then, he brought that hand to smooth across your back in a gentle, comforting way that could have only been Stiles. 

You pulled away from the kiss after a moment, and when you looked into his eyes, you knew for certain that it was him. The softness, the sadness, the apologetic mourning. 

“Y/N-” He croaked out, releasing a few years of his own. 

“Hang in there, my love.” You told him, reaching up to gently grasp at his cheek. 

And then, just like the sun peeking through on a cloudy day - he was gone. 

Void’s horrible grin took over once again, and all the life dropped out of those eyes. 

“You truly are pathetic.” He said, giving another horrible laugh. 

Perhaps he was trying to convince you that Stiles had never been there, that it had only been a trick, but - you knew what you saw. 

Void hated it. 

It was something that he absolutely hated to admit, but you gave Stiles strength. You were likely the only person in town, likely the only thing on earth that could have given him - a weak, stupid, pathetic human, the strength to overpower the epic thousand year old demon that had taken control. 

In that moment, in an instant, he decided that you had to be eliminated. 

Void didn’t hesitate to reach down and pick up the knife. 

“No-” You gasped out. 

Before you could blink, he grabbed your shoulder, shoved you against a nearby wall, and plunged the small blade into your stomach. He didn’t stop just once - he stabbed you again, and again, and again - creating a flurry of blood and mashing flesh that caused you to gasp from the pain and sheer shock that overtook your body. 

It didn’t hurt as much as you expected it to. It was like a simple pinprick - nothing more painful than a needle piercing your skin for a routine blood sample. But when you felt the intense hot waves of blood pouring out, soaking your clothes - you knew that it was bad. You were already shaking from the shock and you knew that him pressing against you was the only thing still holding you up. 

Void took a tight hold of your face, both your cheeks in one blood-coated hand, and pressed his forehead tightly into yours. 

“Look at her.” He growled out, his voice as sharp and frightening as ever. “Look at her. Look at her while she’s dying.” 

You knew in an instant that he wasn’t talking to you. 

“Look at what you’ve done, Stiles!” He screeched, his voice harsh, almost distorted. “All that begging… all that begging - all for nothing!” 

“It’s okay.” You huffed out, reaching up, your hand surprisingly bloody, trying to touch his cheek in comfort. “It-it’s okay.” 

You were determined to survive this. Or - at the very least - you didn’t want Stiles living with the guilt if you didn’t. 

“Stiles-” 

Void wouldn’t stand for it. This comfort. 

He quickly stamped out this truth with a few more quick, violent jabs of the knife into your gut, forcing Stiles to watch as he violently eviscerated you. 

Then, he tossed the knife aside and let you slump to the floor before he walked away. 

He left you for dead, all too pleased with how utterly the sight of you bloodied and limp tortured Stiles. 

He left you there, not knowing that he left you with just enough determination - just enough life left you to drag your shaking body to the phone and get a bloody hand wrapped around it.

...

Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, so there will not be a sequel or a 'Part 2'. If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging it to show your appreciation, commenting on this fic, or you can take a look at my Teen Wolf Masterlist for more of my fics from this fandom.

However, please do not comment on this fic asking for a sequel or asking for more - I generally consider that stressful and impolite. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written.

Because I ended the fic the way I did, I do have some ideas for a potential sequel, but it's not something that I am rushing to write, and it's not something that will be on my schedule anytime soon. If you would like to, you can come into my inbox and chat about my ideas for the potential sequel - but right now they are just ideas and they will stay that way for a long time before becoming a full realised story (if they ever become one). I hope you enjoyed this fic as the capsule story oneshot that I always intended for it to be, and that you enjoy my other works if you do check them out.

[eneiryu]

How do you think the pack felt about Theo at the end of season 6? I know you've written often about Theo going back to the McCall house with Liam but you've tended to describe them as being 'indifferent' or too tired and weary and relieved to be alive to really care about his presence. Do you think that by the end they've started trusting Theo and thinking of him as something of an allied (not pack, not yet), or is there a grudging respect and understanding there or do you think that some of them are actually glad to have Theo there? In a few fics you've written the others fully wanting Theo to be around. Theo waking up and realizing that now that the war was over he should leave, and Scott using his True Alpha influence to make Theo stay. Everybody realizing that Theo is the only one who can calm Liam down and are glad that he's there to deal with him. There are a few other instances but they're the only ones that come to mind. Does that make sense?

Yep, it does make sense! And I think it’s probably…complicated? To give a potentially boring answer. Because I do think for the initial night or few days after the series ends, they probably would be so focused on being alive and not under immediate threat—and he would have proven himself to not be an immediate threat, certainly not with Liam around—that he’d fade some down the priority list. Like that scene with Scott in braced on the edge: in my mind that’s Scott telling him that they’ll deal with everything later, to not be an idiot and try to leave right then.

And I think they’d probably be glad to have him around for Liam’s sake, at least those that had watched them together, even if they might not admit that consciously, or fully understand that that’s what they’re feeling/thinking. Because I do think there still would be a lot of suspicion. I have vague memories of someone calculating out the 6A and 6B timelines, and they’re like, days, and most of the rest of the pack never sees of speaks with Theo, so their chances to see what he’s like post skinwalker prison are very limited.

So, I don’t think they’d have started trusting him. I think they might respect him in the way you respect a dangerous animal, or enemy: something not to underestimate. And I think they’d be grateful that he kept Liam alive and helped them, but none of that would change the fact for them, I don’t think, that Theo killed Scott (resurrection fifteen minutes later notwithstanding), killed Josh and Tracy, helped the Dread Doctors for all those years do whatever they did, put Lydia in Eichen, shot Malia, manipulated the situation with Stiles to nearly fracture his relationship with the pack and Scott, was going to kill Liam, etc. etc…

So I think it’s much more likely that in the immediate aftermath, they’d react much more like Argent and the Sheriff do in most of my earlier stories. They’d find a way to “collar” him, so to speak, like with the idea of the bracelets I created, so that they have some guarantee of control or safety from him. And then it’d be up to Theo to prove to them that he has changed, that he is someone they can trust and want around as an ally, and potentially more than that. But that would take time, and likely a lot of it.

[blackhholes]

okay so i was thinking about season 5 deals with death but more specifically with the action of killing someone, because we have two situations where a main character kills someone that the narrative treats extremely differently.

the scene at the end of lie ability between lydia and vallack mirrors the scene at the beginning of a novel approach between stiles and donovan to a certain degree. in both situations lydia and stiles are acting out of desperation and it's a last resort kind of thing that they aren't even really cognizant of. lydia screams because this man has drilled a hole in her head and he's about to kill her because of his own obsession, the voices in her head are getting too loud and she just needs to get it out. stiles pulls the pin because he's been backed into a corner by donovan and he doesn't feel like he can do anything so he does the one thing he can do and it ends up killing him.

so then why when the scenes are so similar does stiles' turn into a season long arc and lydia's is never mentioned again? i think in large part it's because of their own feelings towards the events. immediately after donovan dies we see stiles panic, he calls the cops but leaves the scene before anyone can arrive and when the body disappears he becomes hysterical he starts doubting if donovan is even dead, it feels eerily similar the nogitsune when he would lose time and couldn't trust his own mind. but this time he can't blame it on the nogitsune he did it himself and i think furthers the shame and guilt he feels because before he was capable of explaining what he did as the nogitsune as not being him, that's not something he would be capable of, but suddenly he has to face the fact that maybe he is.

he repeatedly brings up how terrified he is of losing scott when it comes out because to him scott is this all-good person who would never stand by stiles after supposedly proving that there's something rotten about him. this forces him to retreat and pull away from everyone leading to the worst break up scene in television history between him and malia when she reveals she knew but it didn't matter to her. to him this is proof that the nogitsune wasn't completely a foreign entity from him so for someone to tell him it's okay is unfathomable.

this shiftiness and isolation is also why i believe scott was so quick to believe theo's version of the story, because to scott it makes sense that a violent murder like theo described would lead to stiles pulling away like that. he doesn't understand why stiles would act this way if it truly was self defense. i think reading the sciles breakup in season five as a latent showcase of nogitsune trauma for both of them illuminates both of their actions a lot better than if you were to read it as an isolated incident.

so back to lydia how come her killing vallack is never brought up again? it's because she doesn't feel the same levels of shame and guilt as stiles. she's a lot more pragmatic, she did what she had to do to survive and she understands that scott and the rest of the pack understand that as well.

so really what i'm trying to say is that the narrative weight for both these events has less to do with any perceived objective wrongness of their actions and is moreso a narrative tool to explore the emotional weight it applies to the agents over time.

[jjtheresidentbaby]

ok hi im the one that sent the teen wolf ask i forgot to specify! id love anything with a baby regressor stiles and maybe a caregiver sheriff stilinksi (he gets so much better throughout the seasons i swear) or caregiver derek! (both as platonic pairings) i hope u like the show ^^!!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ protector ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

|| stiles stilinski x derek hale | read on ao3

a/n: my insistent need to write sterek angst is showing whoops

warnings: Derek finding out about Stiles’ regression for the first time, hurt/comfort, Stiles using regression as a coping mechanism, protective Derek

-

Derek glances over at Stiles for the fifth time in the past minute, something's off with him, he's bouncing his leg and his heart beats as if he's on edge. It's not an emotion Hale picks up a lot from Stiles, anxious and nervous aren't words Derek would think to describe him at all, he's more energetic and curious than anything.

So it's raising quite a few red flags now. They're at Scott's house, trying to act normal and watch a movie like regular non-supernatural friends do. Lydia and Jackson are laid out on the makeshift bed on the floor next to Alison and Scott, there's a horror comedy going that the pairs seem very interested in. Isaac, Stiles and Derek take up the couch with Stiles in the middle.

Before the shift of Stiles’ behavior he was happily chuckling at the movie, giggling really, another thing Derek has never heard until tonight. Maybe he just hasn't been around Stiles long enough outside the near death experiences they share, Hale can't spend too much time dwelling on it as when a gruesome yet comical death pops up on screen Stiles curls back from the Tv.

He's closer to Derek than Isaac, who must've picked up on Stiles' actions and heartbeat as he keeps looking him over, presumably checking for injuries like Isaac usually does when someones acting off. Derek almost goes to ask Stiles if he's alright but he can't get the words out before Stiles is barreling himself backwards into Derek's chest.

"You okay?" Stiles doesn't say anything in reply but his heart rate has ticked up a significant amount and one of his hands grabs the loose material of Derek's t-shirt like a lifeline.

"Stiles?" He keeps his voice low, even if half the room can hear him if they wanted to no matter what. Stiles lets out a small whine, it twists something in Derek's chest, he suddenly has the urge to wrap Stiles up in a mountain of blankets and never let anything bad or scary come near him.

"Is it the movie?" Another flinch after a bloody scene and the pieces fall together, Derek curls his arm around Stiles to block out the Tv, practically shielding his whole body into Hales chest.

"Wanna leave." It's small, pitchy, unusually young sounding. It's all Derek needs to jump up with a sputtered out excuse about Stiles having a headache and needing a ride home, of course the other wolves sitting around hear how obvious of a lie it is but they thankfully keep their mouths shut.

-

Getting to Stiles' house takes no time at all, Noah's still at the office so Derek is able to slip them both upstairs without any interruptions. Stiles stays pressed to Hales side the whole time. As close as he can get while still using his legs to walk, or to drag, Derek holds most of Stiles' weight and takes them up the stairs as carefully as he can to not have either of them trip.

"Can you tell me what's going on now?" He tries to sound assuring, attempting to not let any of the worry that Derek can feel building in his gut appear on his face or in his tone.

"I feel- small." Stiles doesn't look up as he says it, squeezing the ball of Derek's shirt he still holds instead, pulling him the littlest bit closer despite the hesitation in his words.

"Small?" A beat passes of silence. Derek isn't sure what to do in this situation, he's never had someone hold onto him like this, clinging onto to him as if begging him not to leave.

His thoughts get pulled back to reality when Stiles leans over his bed, one hand still holding Derek's shirt so it stretches as he reaches with his free arm, retrieving a small book that he places slowly in Derek's lap.

It's clipped down with a small strip of cloth that's definitely needed as the book thickens up quickly when Derek un clasps it. The first few pages are warnings as to not continue reading as this is personal for Stiles, Derek flips past them when Stiles nudges him along, stopping him on a specific page. It's a list of definitions scribbled down in Stiles' handwriting, Derek focuses in on the one that reads 'Little (small)' there's a dash before it explains what an age regressor is, how it's a change in mental state, a coping mechanism.

Oh. Derek's eyes fall to Stiles' state, how curled in on himself he is, how his eyes have a slight gloss of pain to them; Hales heart all but shatters. He quickly pulls Stiles into his chest, pushing them back till they reach Stiles' headboard. He's hoping this is the right move. It feels like it and Stiles hasn't pushed him away yet, so Derek just holds him, taking in deep breaths in hopes that Stiles will naturally relax enough to match the pattern, and rubbing his hand in big circles over Stiles' back for extra comfort.

"The movie, it triggered you?" Stiles nods against Derek's chest, tucking his legs up on top of Hales, looking impossibly tiny as he lays on Derek.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Triggers aren't new to Derek, not in the slightest, but this is the first time he's ever seen something affect Stiles, normally the brunette is great at bouncing back and keeping things together, at least on the surface. But judging by the amount of pages in that book that are filled, this isn't a new feeling for Stiles.

"Stay, don't let the bad things get me." The young sound and vulnerability in Stiles voice is enough to crack Derek's heart open even more. He can't help but tug Stiles in closer, allowing Stiles to wrap his arms around Hales waist as he tucks his nose into Derek's shoulder.

"I'd never let anything get you, never." Hales hand brushes over Stiles' head, rest on the back of his neck a second, allowing himself to indulge in the softness of the moment. Normally Derek wouldn't dream of being this gentle with someone, frankly he's bad at it, but there's something about Stiles and how easily he cuddles into Derek's chest that makes it seem like a no-brainer to return the affection.

"You're a good protector." It's just barely a mumble, Stiles' eyes fluttering shut as he falls asleep.

Derek's pretty sure he doesn't breathe for a solid minute after hearing the words, he pretends like it doesn't make him tear up a bit and instead focuses on holding Stiles as carefully as he can so the little doesn’t wake up and keeping watch of the door. If Stiles doesn’t want anything bad to happen and he trusts Derek to keep sure of that, it’s all he going to do.

-

[toolonghere]

Teen Wolf Movie

Yeah, so not unexpectedly, this movie is utter garbage. Like true rotting garbage. I am so mad that during promo they kept touting this as a love letter to the fans. This is not a love letter, it’s complete trash.

I’m sorry Jeff Davis didn’t realize while writing S1 that he wrote Derek Hale as the main character. That he made him interesting and likable, and that the audience instantly fell in love with him. I’m not sorry that his audience didn’t realize Scott was supposed to be the main character.

Derek had an interesting and mysterious backstory, he had amazing chemistry with Stiles, and he actually had a decent character arc.

The fact that the audience loved him more than who Jeff Davis intended and feels was the main character, does not mean he should have been treated this terribly.

Honestly, this movie is the worst trash I’ve ever seen. It forgot basic plot points of its own tv show, like the fact once Derek evolved he didn’t have blue eyes anymore. It introduced a new character and told us absolutely nothing about her. The entire plot made zero sense, I really mean zero sense. Mr. Harris coming back from the dead and having a vendetta against Scott was the dumbest shit. And honestly, Allison coming back from the dead, made no sense either.

The fact that Derek has a 15 year old child with absolutely no explanation as to with who is so weird. That Derek sacrifices himself also makes no sense. Like of all the people there Derek is the person with the least reason in this zero sense plot that should have sacrificed himself. And it is SO cruel, to have him die by fire after his whole family burned to death. There is just so much wrong here, I don’t think I have the words to describe it.

I will say this though, if Jeff Davis thinks killing off Derek Hale, and not having Stiles in the movie at all is going to stop Sterek fans from writing even more Sterek fic he is sorely mistaken. The Sheriff essentially says Derek had feelings for Stiles. He tows the jeep back when it broke down (he helps Stiles after Lydia dumped him), fixes the jeep up and keeps it running (he and Stiles are there for each other and rely on other). If that isn’t a metaphor, I don’t know what is. I predict so much Sterek fic written about them between the last we saw of them in the show and the movie. Also, Eli, basically filled in the comic relief Stiles used to supply (though definitely not as well as Dylan O’Brien), but to me that means Eli is so clearly influenced by Stiles’ sense of humor.

[maplesyrizzup]

Year in Review

Thanks for the tag @ksbbb, @thiamsxbitch, & @wolfboy88 RULES: post the top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022(not necessarily your most popular) Possession - (ON HOLD for health reasons). Lydia predicts that Liam is going to die. I’m very proud of this so far, I hope to get back to updating every month. “Theo let me in.” “no.” - Based on the prompt. Theo hears something from the kitchen and goes to check it out, finds Liam next to the stove with a pot: Liam what the fuck are you doing here? Liam: I’m making fucking mac and cheese. Theo: how the fuck did you get in here? I don’t think you’re an idiot. - Short Thiam Hurt/Comfort. White Picket Fence - random prompt: when the police came to announce you the death of your husband, you refused to believe it. “That’s impossible” , you said. “Unfortunately, it’s the truth miss” , answered the policemen. “It’s impossible” , you said again, “because he’s in the kitchen making dinner.” Best Birthday Ever - Fluffy Adrian Chase x reader.  Your top 4 current WIPS that you’re excited to release in the new year:  Pink sweater Theo: a holiday fic that involves Theo in a pink sweater.  I’ve cared for a long time: Liam wasn’t sure when he started to care, but he knew the first time he noticed it was when Liam asked Theo to stay.  Groundhog Day: Theo and Stiles get stuck in a Groundhogs Day situation and have to work together to find a way out. Thiam and Stydia.  Prank War: Stiles and Theo prank war fic. Probably going to be a gen fic. Your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing (or art) over the past year:  1. more detailed scenes, it’s subtle but I’m getting better at it 2. My dialogue, I’m pretty good at dialogue, I think it’s what I’m best at, and I’m still improving. 3. letting myself take breaks and coming back later to finish(?) Your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year:  1. to get even better at describing things. 2. to plan my fics more. The reason a lot of my fics don’t get finished is that I start them before I have them thoroughly planned out and your number 1 favorite line you’ve written this year! from chapter 2 of Possession.   “Hey, don’t look at me like that. We might die, the odds are against us yes, BUT don’t you think after all that’s happened that we would have died already? So MAYBE luck is on our side.” Now he was rambling and at this point, Liam was more trying to convince himself than Alec. “THIS IS LUCK!? HOW IS THIS LUCKY? BECAUSE I DON'T FEEL VERY LUCKY RIGHT NOW LIAM!” Liam squawked. Very offended Alec was now shouting at Liam when he was just trying to help. “DON'T SHOUT AT ME!” Tagging: @mayhem24-7forever, @bvcksmunson, @nptnewr no pressure!

[korradoras]

TOP SHIPS OF ALL TIME:

this is in no order but it will be numbered for my sanity.

1. slexie - mark and lexie/greys anatomy

• i am so attached to this ship, i have never sobbed so hard an my life than when i first watched the season 8 finale/season 9 premiere of greys anatomy. i still rewatch only their seasons quite often.

2. catradora - catra and adora/SPOP

• ultimate comfort ship, i rewatch she ra whenever i am going through it. i first watched it when i was 15 and i still watch it for comfort. 15 is a nostalgic age for me, she ra reminds me of what it was like before anxiety. 😩

3. korrasami - korra and asami/LOK

• another comfort ship, comfort show, etc. lok and avatar are more shows i watched when i was 15, when the pandemic hit i was almost 16. i was locked up in my room, no school, no going out, no friends. i had a basement room with a couch and a huge tv, i spent MANY weeks watching netflix on that couch and the feeling was immaculate. i rewatch the atlau shows VERY often.

4. bellarke - bellamy and clarke/the 100

• once again another comfort show, i rewatch the 100 annually and have been watching it since season 4 came out. my dad started watching it, then my mom, then my sister. it became a show we watched all together, and i had a little ritual when it came to new seasons. i am an impatient person in some ways more than others, i do not have the patience to maintain interest when watching episodes weekly but i have no issue waiting for the whole season to be out. so every year as the episodes came out, i ignored them. when they all hit netflix, i would binge. however, for season 7 of the 100 i waited 2 years. i think i was procrastinating letting it end. bellarke was THE slowburn. i was so sure they would end up together, in a way im glad they didn't, but i loved them so much. i cannot describe the way that i feel when watching them and this show.

5. clexa - clarke and lexa/the 100

• GAY SLOWBURN. y'all i have so many fics i read consistently about clexa. i have like 3 on shuffle that i've read 10 times minimum. i cry like a bitch every time i rewatch s2-3 of the 100.

6. avatrice - ava and beatrice/warrior nun

• so i had heard a lot and seen a lot about this show before i actually watched it, which was actually in january of this year, several months after the 2nd (and final 🥲) season came out. i QUICKLY fell in love w both avatrice and ava/beatrice as individuals. i also read a lot of avatrice fics and cry thinking abt it being cancelled 😭

7. stydia - stiles and lydia/teen wolf

• BEST SLOWBURN OF ALL TIMEEE. it's weird to think teen wolf ended SIX years ago, this is another show i rewatch annually and what's funny is when i was 12 watching this show i did not care for stydia. i liked scott's relationships with allison and kira, never paid much attention to stiles and lydia until i was 16/17 and i rewatched and realized that they are AMAZING.

8. sameena - sam and deena/fear street

• MORE ANNUAL REWATCH SERIES. i LOVE LOVE LOVE these movies, and when i say sam and deena i am also including sarah and hannah. ex's/enemies to lovers in HORROR? forbidden love? sapphics? say less.

9. glaggie - glenn and maggie/twd

• so this was my first ship ever. started watching this when i was 11, i watched it over and over and over, i read the first 3 compendiums of the comics, then season 7 rolled around, i watched three first episode live then never watched another episode last season 6 again.

10. delena - damon and elena/tvd

• honestly they sort of give me the ick now but 12 year old me ATE that shit up, would also like to add they were my sexual awakening. i remember watching one of their spicy scenes and feeling a little funny 🥴

11. wayhaught - waverly and nicole/wynonna earp

• hottest ship ever. i fucking love them and i still need to watch the most reason season which is not that recent.

12. (honorable mention) camren - camila and lauren/5h

• camren gets only an honorable mention bc i don't ship them anymore, but they were MY gay awakening. when i was 13 i discovered fifth harmony and, naturally, i discovered ✨camren fanfiction✨ i literally did not know i was gay until i started reading fics about them. it just clicked when i felt more reading than i ever had for real life boys. :) anyways i don't support shipping real people anymore at my ripe age of 18.

[mccallsmemaybe]

❝ Maybe, ❞ he shrugged. It was hard not to agree with her when he felt like he was losing his mind since the night before, it seemed to only get worse on the bus. He'd chalk that up to the injury, but even afterwards it felt like something wasn’t right. Like the world around him was moving in and out of slow motion and blanketed with fog. ❝ At least it’s just for tonight and we’re not in Beacon Hills. ❞ Even with the anxious undertone, he felt safer outside of the place where every supernatural force seemed to be gathered to ruin everyone’s day. That had to be a silver lining, and Scott was always searching for those wherever he could. It was becoming harder and harder to find, lately. 

He followed her gaze to his side and he looked back up again. ❝ Why wouldn’t I thank you? ❞ It was her suggestion that prompted Allison to stitch him up when he’d all but passed out in a public restroom. He doubted anyone else would’ve guessed he was psychosomatic ( a word he didn’t quite understand yet but was sure after both Lydia and Stiles explained it to him a few more times he’d absorb it ). ❝ I’m pretty sure the general consensus is that you saved my life so— ❞ he shrugged then gave the worst attempt of a crooked smile. Perhaps the anxiety was higher than he thought, he did a quick shake of his head— a physical reaction to stop it. He straightened up again, still listening to what Lydia had to say about the feeling of the place. ❝ Yeah, yeah I’m liking it less and less it seems. But, things have felt weird for me for the last couple of days. ❞ Not that good of a judge in the grand scheme of things. It was worth offering up to someone and why not Lydia? He’d worried Stiles enough for one day. ❝ Oh that? It’s fine now for the most part. ❞ Scott shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around. ❝ I just feel like, I don’t know, like I did something wrong so now something bad is going to happen. ❞ It was the best he could describe it as it wasn’t something he was used to feeling. ❝ Why don’t you like it? ❞

The list of things Lydia's worrying about right now is about a mile long but Scott and his seemingly unhealing wound is right up at the top of it. She had been, admittedly, worried about it ever since they stopped at the rest stop and Allison had stitched it up. Her best guess had been that it was in his head – his guilt about Derek taking over and refusing to let himself heal. It was a very Scott McCall thing to happen. Lydia knows that he carries too much on his shoulders — that he holds himself to an impossible standard and thinks he needs to take care of all of them, Derek included. She can only hope that her hunch had been right and thanks to Allison's handy work, his healing ability had kicked in whether his guilty conscience wanted it to or not.

All of that floats to the back of her mind while she stands in the motel parking lot, though. The place feels wrong. It makes her whole body feel like it's vibrating — like it's fighting her being here, wanting to run away despite the fact that she's unmoving. She'd stepped out of the room she and Allison were sharing to get clean (supposedly) towels, hoping that a few minutes of fresh air would clear her anxiety but so far it hadn't worked. She jumps when Scott comes up behind her, tearing her gaze away from the vacancy sign to look at him. "The bus might be an improvement," she comments dryly. Lydia's standards are high and normally she won't even entertain the idea of staying somewhere that isn't at least a Hilton, but she figures right now she would take even the dingy Motel Six in downtown Beacon Hills over this place.

Her eyes flicker down to his side, as if she'll be able to tell how healed the wound is just by looking. "You don't have to thank me, Scott." She means that. While the old Lydia wouldn't have lifted a finger unless she was getting something in return, the new Lydia is just trying to be someone worthy of the second chance she'd been given. A second chance Scott had helped her get — he's her friend, as bizarre as that is. She wants to help him. "I'm..." she trails off, lips pursing together because no, she's not okay. But she doesn't know how to explain that, given the fact that nothing has really happened to make her this way in the first place other than sitting on a toilet she's pretty sure gave her twelve different kinds of tetanus. "I don't like it here." She settles on that, shaking her head and shifting the yellowed towels in her arms. "Are you okay?" She nods towards his injury.

[kitchenisking]

Fic Rec🥰

I Know You by sparkandwolf (thatnerdemryn) - (Rating: G, Words: 1733, sterek)

“I thought I’d find you here,” Derek said, placing a gentle kiss on Stiles’ temple. He could barely feel Derek’s lips through the thick hair he had let grow during his senior year. He was never expecting to rid himself of his signature buzz cut, but it wasn’t exactly a priority when battling the danger they so often faced. 

“Am I that obvious?” Stiles asked. 

“To me,” Derek said simply, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder.

Flowerwolf & Beacon Roots by alisvolatpropiis - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5299, sterek)

Derek tries not to show his surprise, curiously hopeful, but still suspicious of Laura’s involvement. “Oh. How do you know my coffee order then?”

He grins. “The cute baristo knows your order, dude. All I had to do was ask for Grumpy Flower Guy’s usual.”

Derek huffs. “I’m not grumpy.”

“He says grumpily,” Stiles smirks, winking.

The sound of his own laughter surprises Derek, so yeah, okay, maybe Stiles has a point.

“Laura said that you weren’t really into dating,” Stiles goes on, “but that uh, you uh, well you know.” Stiles’ cheeks flush a very pretty ruddy pink under the scatter of beauty marks that Derek aches to taste. Stiles turns away, towards the cooler of roses, muttering to himself under his breath, which of course Derek can hear perfectly well. “Great freakin’ advice, Lydia, ‘just bring up sex and tell him you’re cool with having a one night stand,’ okay, sure, that worked fucking beautifully.”

“Okay.” The word is out of his mouth before Derek can even think about the consequences of saying it, something unusual for him. He wants Stiles however he can get him, it seems.

“Okay?” Stiles eyes are wide when he spins back to look at him.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s have sex.”

How long have I been on the hunt for you? byLunaCanisLupus_22 - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 20379, sterek)

“Well I guess accidental kidnapping is not so bad then,” Scott decided brightly after the others had finished describing their ordeals. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

“HAHA,” Stiles practically shouted, loud and unsettling enough that everyone turned to look at him. “I mean, yep. For. Sure.”

Or the one when Scott gets kidnapped by a witch who blasts Stiles and Derek with a sex spell to keep them distracted (and it's extremely effective).

Poetry in the Raw by Jmeelee  - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5509, sterek)

Derek answers his phone on the second ring.  “What.” No inflection whatsoever.  

“Does the ‘S’ in your middle name stand for Sexy?”

Silence.  Then, “Stiles.”  Still no inflection.  

“I doubt it stands for Stiles, dude.  There can only be one,” he answers in a kick-ass impersonation of The Kurgan.  “But tell me it isn’t, like, Sawyer or Skylar or something equally new-age and white-boy contemporary.”

“How did you get my number?”

OR: 5 times Stiles guesses Derek's middle name +1 time he knows.

Undercover Powercouple by fantasybean - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 42212, sterek)

Stiles and Derek both have their own thriving Youtube vlogging careers, but they keep them seperate. Little do their fans know, the two have been living together, sleeping together, and dating each other in secret! But how long till they get exposed?

Five Times Stiles Woke Up In Derek’s Bed Unexpectedly, And the One Time It Was On Purpose by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) -( Rating: T, Words: 20933, sterek)

Rule one of kidnapping Stiles Stilinski: he is required to be entertained. 

Not that he got kidnapped a lot! 

Or... not like, all the time, at any rate. His being kidnapped seemed to have increased lately, but he attributed that to being distracted more often than usual because of school. Sure, he’d had high school to contend with back in the day, but high school was less demanding than university. He always watched movies where people were out partying it up or solving crime or having huge campus-wide mass murders or whatever and all Stiles wanted to know was where they found the time. 

To be fair, most of them didn’t have the Supernatural breathing down their neck, or a pack constantly coming to them for advice. Like he was the poster child of good decisions, who was dumb enough to believe that? His best friend was a Werewolf because of all his so-called ‘good decisions.’

Step into the daylight (and let it go) by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie) - (Rating: Mature, Words: 14418, sterek)

Stiles is a grad student with serious insomnia. So when he sees a stranger in need of help, he thinks it’ll be a good way to alleviate the boredom. How the hell was he supposed to know that the weird guy with the baseball cap was a famous actor (and a fucking werewolf)? He just keeps running into the guy. Coincidence? Stiles thinks not.

I Used to Call You My Own by whentheywrite - (Rating: T, Words: 2571, sterek)

“Hi, yes, this is Stiles Stilinski, but I’m not at the phone right now! Please leave a message or call back later and I’ll debate not letting the phone ring. Social anxiety, dude, don’t judge me for it.”

Derek needed Stiles. He needed to talk to Stiles.

One last time.

What Fresh Twilight Bullshit Is This? by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 196137, sterek)

“I am not Bella!” he insisted, shaking his fist angrily at Jackson, as if he’d been the one to suggest he was. “I am not Bella! I am, like, a Jacob, at least!” 

Lydia made a noise of debate from his right and he whipped around to look at her. 

“What?! What was that sound?!” 

“You’re more of a Mike,” she insisted, shrugging neatly and flipping some curls over her shoulder. 

“Wha—” Stiles had never been so offended in his life! “I am not! No way! I am a solid Jacob!” 

“Mike,” she argued. 

“Who’s Mike?” Scott asked.

“Shut up, Scott!” Stiles insisted, pointing a finger at him but still glaring at Lydia.

The Kenny Situation by Whispering_Sumire - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 10014, sterek)

He hears the grate of Erica sliding the window open, hears her call after the homeless man, muttering far off now, "Hey! You killed Stiles!"

She sounds vaguely annoyed more than anything.

Derek wants to howl with the agony he's in.

"You bastard!" Isaac chimes from somewhere deeper in the Loft.

Derek feels sick.

He rocks the body in his arms, holds the hand in his over the wound, shakes with sobs he doesn't let free, and wonders how this was the thing who got the boy who runs with wolves? How was it just another meaningless act of violence? How is that fair?

Why doesn't anyone seem to care?

[Or: The one where Stiles gets cursed by witches, keeps dying and coming back to life, and the only one even vaguely cognizant of this is Derek.]

[heliads]

Foresight (Part Five)

You’re Lydia Martin’s twin sister and a banshee, worried by the fact that your hair stubbornly remains a startling white. After a McCall pack meeting goes sour, you end up on the run from hunters. Soon enough, you realize you’re not in Beacon Hills anymore- and the werewolf greeting you, Wyatt Lykensen, is like none you’ve ever met before.

part four / masterlist / part six

For a moment, all you can do is stand there. Then you run forward and throw your arms around your sister. “It’s so good to see you!” Lydia laughs, hugging you back. “I could say the same thing about you. It’s been more than a week, did you know that? I was trying not to panic, but-”

By now the other members of the pack have come up as well, drifting along near you and Lydia. Stiles grins. “By ‘trying not to panic’, she means that she would hold her phone in her hand almost the entire day, pacing back and forth and constantly asking us if we could sense anything about where you were. You wince. “Yeah, sorry about not calling. I was a little busy.”

Scott frowns. “What do you mean by that? When you first left, we went out looking, and we couldn’t find you anywhere. Usually, I can tell vaguely where you guys are in Beacon Hills, but I couldn’t get anything on you. None of us could, even when using our werewolf senses. How were you able to get away from us for so long?”

You shrug. “Honestly, I have no idea. I found this town called Seabrook by accident, and it took going into this banshee trance thing to get there and get back. I don’t know how to describe it other than some supernatural place where there aren’t any hunters.” Malia whistles. “That sounds pretty nice, I’ll give you that.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, and it would be nice now, too. There have been a lot more hunters in the area recently. Now that Banshee 2.0 has been found, I’m going to suggest that we go back home, where we don’t have to be worried about being ambushed in the middle of nowhere with no one to find our bodies but Derek Hale, if he gets bored enough to search for us.”

You chuckle. “That sounds pretty good to me.” All the same, you’re not sure you like Stiles’ declaration that the resident Beacon Hills hunter problem is getting worse. It all seems to point back to your vision of the night before, even if you did your best to make sure Wyatt stayed out of it. Now that Stiles is sure that there are way more hunters than normal, it seems like all the pieces are coming together for the vision to come true after all.

You end up reconvening at Scott’s house, to no surprise. It feels like all of the most important meetings happen here, whether they’re pack gatherings or surprise going away parties for banshees who happened to find other werewolf hotspots where they’d like to spend the rest of their high school years. Even sitting around his kitchen table reminds you of the day you’d left Beacon Hills, with that argument that had gone bad. It had all happened here, so it’s almost funny that your goodbyes would happen here as well.

You take a seat near Lydia, and fix the group at large with a determined look. “Tell me what’s going on with the hunters. I want to know everything.” Scott sighs. “We think Gerard Argent or some of the other hunters started the recruitment process again. The high school is like a minefield, and Brett Talbot says it’s no better at Devenford Prep. We all seem to be dealing with higher levels of hunters, and there’s no getting around it. To be honest, I’m kind of surprised that we were all able to meet up with you in the woods without being found. They seem to have taken to clearing the Preserve of all supernaturals as best they can.”

You breathe out slowly. “That’s not good. Does there seem to be any reason why? I remember the last uptick of hunters in the area was because of the Anuk-ite infecting everyone with that sort of fear against the supernatural. Has anything like that happened?” Kira shakes her head. “I’ve been checking around town, but everything seems normal. There are no signs that anything’s changed other than a massive amount of hunter traffic. Chris Argent has been checking into things, but he’s been unable to come up with anything more than we already know.”

It’s not great, to say the least. You hate to be leaving now, when they evidently need help in protecting other supernaturals. However, you can’t ruminate on this for long- Lydia’s known you since birth, and she fixes you with a level stare the second you start to fidget in your seat. “Don’t you dare let our worries stop you from going to Seabrook if that’s what you want. We’ll be fine, I promise. Besides, I want to hear about this town of yours. What’s it like?”

You let out a quiet laugh. “It’s different, for sure. Werewolves there have these moonstone necklaces, and without them, they’re practically normal people. It’s like the moonstones make them werewolves. I think they make them immortal, too.” Malia looks at you incredulously. “They have magic necklaces that can make you immortal? That can’t be real.”

You grin. “It is, I’ve seen it. Also, there are zombies.” Stiles’ jaw drops. “Now you have to be making fun of us. There’s no way zombies are actually in that town.” You shrug. “Ask Scott if I’m lying. He can hear my heartbeat.” Stiles turns to Scott, who just shrugs, looking defeated. “Her heartbeat is steady. She’s telling the truth, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

Stiles whirls back around to face you. “How are zombies a thing?” You make a face. “I have no idea. It doesn’t make any sense to me, they just exist. They have these computerized bands on their wrists that make them more human, but once they’re off, they’re like the zombies from movies. They get really particular about it, though.”

Lydia shakes her head as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing. “All that, and no hunters?” You nod. “That’s the crazy part. Every townsperson there knows about zombies and werewolves, but no one’s trying to kill them. Sure, they try to keep the supernaturals out of the prom, and there was this whole thing about keeping humans and zombies separate in school, but that’s over now. I don’t know how they were able to move past it, but I’d sure like to have it here.”

Kira speaks up now. “So that’s why you want to move? It’s safer?” All of a sudden, all eyes are on you. You hesitate a moment or two before speaking. “Not just because there are no hunters. It just feels like home, I guess. I met a lot of nice people, and it feels more right to me than here. Even now, when it’s so great to be back, I miss Seabrook.”

Lydia smiles sympathetically. “Hey, I’m just glad you found a place where you could be you. We’ll miss you like crazy, and you’d better be visiting if we call you in for a fight against the hunters, but I’d rather have you safe and happy than forced to stay here if you wanted to be back in Seabrook instead.” You smile back at her. “That’s exactly how I felt. And you better call me if there’s a fight, by the way. I’ll be over here in no time.” She laughs. “We’re counting on it.”

You end up spending around three days in Beacon Hills. Ever since that first moment when you realized you were on familiar ground again, you’ve been awash in memories. You grew up here after all, learned you were a banshee and how to control it. Every aspect of your past is here within this town; every aspect, that is, except for one. Despite all of your attempts to throw yourself back into the town, you can’t stop thinking about the one you left behind.

No matter how nice it is to be back with the McCall pack, to see your family and joke around with your friends like nothing happened at all, you find yourself missing Seabrook almost every day. More than that, you catch yourself looking around for Wyatt, as if you’ll find him in a crowd and be able to tell him about everything you discovered. You hear a funny joke and turn to see if he laughed, then remember he isn’t there, or notice some suspicious gathering of young hunters in the high school and go to point it out to him before remembering that you’re here alone.

Eventually, you know your time in Beacon Hills has come to a close. You’ll always be able to visit, especially during fights, but you’re ready to move on to better things, and a future that doesn’t always involve being on the run. Even better, you’ll be able to see Wyatt again. You have no idea how he reacted to you leaving in the middle of the night, but you’ll be able to tolerate a few days of frosty silence if it means knowing that you saved his life.

So, after three days have passed, you say your final goodbyes and get ready to head back to Seabrook. You think you’ll do better about remembering how to get back this time, so after exchanging final hugs with Lydia and doing your best to keep the burn of tears away, you step out into the forest. You found your way to Beacon Hills by dissociating enough to let the vision sweep over you; so you do that now.

The best way to do this is to think about Wyatt, and how great it’s going to be to see him again. Talking to Scott and the others has made you think of a whole new crop of questions to ask, just to see how different things are between the two werewolf packs. Your steps become more sure as you pick your way through the forest. If you try hard enough, you could practically see him now. In fact, you swear you hear something that sounds just like him, like he’s waiting for you a little farther down the treeline.

Your head snaps up suddenly. That was a sound, though, what you just heard. It seemed almost like footsteps, as if someone was trying to hide the sound of their boots crunching against fallen leaves but wasn’t quite successful. There it is again- a little closer now, a little louder. Not just in your head, and not Wyatt, because you’re still deeply within the depths of the Beacon Hills Preserve.

You stop moving altogether now, looking around to find the source of the disturbance. You can feel your heart racing in your chest. It sounds like multiple people, and it must be multiple hunters, because there’s no way the McCall pack would be following you, not like this. Stiles had mentioned there being a lot more hunters in the woods, hadn’t he? They’ve caught up to you now.

A moment later, and it’s too late. You see them start to emerge from the trees, all in a semicircle that’s slowly closing around you like a noose. The moonlight shines on their weapons, which are just starting to be drawn towards you. You panic for one last second, and then start to run. 

An arrow thuds into a tree near your head, just a moment too late. Your feet practically fly across the ground, but no matter how fast you run, it’s not fast enough. You try to circle around back towards the town, hoping that at some point you’ll catch the McCall pack and they’ll be able to help you out, but as for right now, you’re fairly sure that you’re still alone. You take another quick turn, hoping to throw them off of your tail, and then skid to a stop.

There’s a massive ravine in front of you, one too big for you to jump across. If you were a supernatural with a werewolf’s strength, you could do it, but you’re just you. It’s too far. You turn around, ready to look for another way out. The hunters are closing in, but there’s a gap in their ranks to the left. You sprint towards it as fast as you can, hearing arrows notch in bowstrings. You’re almost there, almost past them, and then you hear the twang of an arrow leaving a bow and you know it’s all over.

It’s funny, the moment before dying. Somehow, even as you continue to run, you know that there’s no point. There’s no way you’re getting out of this, because somewhere in the dark night behind you, the arrow will find its target. Without having to turn around, you know that it’s headed directly for you, that not even dodging or ducking will stop it from killing you. There is no way to outrun this death named for you, but you try anyway.

You close your eyes, just to be sure. You won’t see it anyway, but you want to pretend that you have a chance. So you don’t see anything around you, and when you hear a thud and a sound like a choked gasp, you still think it’s you. It takes a few moments to realize that you’re not in any pain at all, and when you whirl around, you are no longer alone.

Wyatt stands behind you, one arm outstretched as if to push you away from the arrow. His eyes are wide in shock, his mouth open in a silent call. You can see the arrow in his back, the one he’d taken so that you could get away. His gaze meets yours, and you know then that you’ve been here before. This is the moment you’d seen in your vision, the moment you promised yourself would never come. This is when Wyatt dies, and when you can do nothing about it.

The moonlight shines overhead, giving you the perfect view of the scarlet beginning to spread out from his chest. Wyatt slumps forward to the ground, lying on his back as the blood continues to pour, and it hits you now that you are about to watch the boy you love die. There is only one thing left for you to do now, one thing that brought you to him and one thing that he will hear before he dies: you scream.

foresight tag list: i would commonly appear in your location to take arrows for you, wyatt isn’t special @rogueanschel​, @thatfangirl42​, @lovesanimals0000​, @sher-lokid7

[slowpoke-fics]

Sacrifice

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Pack x Reader

Request Summary: You're Scotts twin sister and make a sacrifice for the good of the pack

Warnings: death, panic attack, angst, murder described, death described, reader death; I know for a fact I've missed some and this one is pretty fucking rough, as always read at your own risk.

A/N: This one is angsty, and just a tad longer than normal, consider it my apology to nonnie for taking so damn long on this request. I hope you guys love it, and again, this one is rough, read at your own risk.

You're able to grab one of the fucking resilient demonic ninja's off of Isaac. You could smell his pain, his blood, and you could smell Allisons determination. The second one on Isaac was shot with Allisons arrow, it's glowing green, fighting with the clear pain it's experiencing. With a split decision you're next to Allison, pushing her out of the way, a sharp pain through your chest, and then you're numb.

Allison's face is rampant with fear, her shirt holding a tiny cut that didn't grace the skin. Good, she's okay, and then you're falling.

You don't hit the ground though, your brother, Scott, holding your face with a stray tear falling down his face. You reach up and wipe it away, "It's okay Scotty, it doesn't hurt." Scott chokes back a sob, his hand gently rubbing yours, "Is everyone else okay?" Scott starts to speak, his voice betraying him, sounding mangled, "Yeah, everyone is okay Y/n, you're gonna be okay too." You shook your head, "Not in the way you think I am," Scott finally releases a sob, "no, no, big brother," he tries to laugh, trying to give you a little peace with your joke that even though he's minutes older, he's still older, "it's okay, yeah? Me and you, fighting tooth and nail. This was the best gift I could've ever gotten, I love you, and I love the pack. This is okay." You reach behind him, fingers tangled into his hair, you pull him to you and kiss his forehead. "Don't let them blame themselves, and don't blame yourself," another kiss to his cheek, "I love you big brother."

Scott's memories with you flashes before his eyes as the color in yours goes out, how did we get here?

"Scott! You okay?" You look over his body for injuries, he hisses at you making contact with his torso. "Scott, what's wrong? Did you get bit by something too?" Scott's eyebrows raise, "What do you mean 'too'? Did you get bit?" You roll your eyes and turn around, shirt stained with blood, "Yeah, I managed to get away from the fucker while rolling down some hill, now let me see yours." You swat him away, lifting his shirt and taking a good look at the bite mark, "Okay, not too bad, you fix me up and I'll fix you up? Not a word to mom, got it?" Scott nods, walking with you into the house to take care of the bite marks.

Scott can't feel anything, surrounded by you, your lifeless body. His anger, no, pain, soars through him as his eyes glow, a roar deep within him. The only thing anyone in his pack can hear is the scream from Lydia's lips and the roar of pain from Scott.

Isaac barely notices the sound around him, only his own heartbeat in his ears as he listened to yours fade away.

"Isaac you fucking idiot!" You slapped Isaac on the back of the head, he looks at you with lost, glowing, puppy dog eyes, "Sorry, Y/n." His eyes dull to his normal brown and you frown, "You've gotta do better honey, you can't lose control like that, you'll kill someone and I know that's not what you want." Isaac sits on the metal bench in the locker room, head in his hands, "I don't know that I'll ever be able to."

You sigh, sitting next to him with your hand rubbing his back, "You will, just give it time, until then, you've gotta find something that works for you, something that prevents you from breaking someone fucking ribs Isaac." You voice becomes elevated again towards the end, irritated at Isaac's recklessness. "Yeah," he leans his head down to your shoulder, "I know firecracker."

Scott is blind to the feeling on his bloody hand, only noticing it when Allison's tears hit it. Allison brushes a hair out of your face, you looked peaceful, she's eternally grateful for you, for what you did for her tonight and what you've done for her up until this point.

"Allison, fuck," you huff, pulling yourself up from the ground, "let's do it again, I know that this isn't you, your aim is perfect, let it all go and focus on me okay?" She sighs, shaking the bow in her hand, "Maybe the fact that I could actually hurt you isn't helping." You're eye to eye with her, both hands on her face, eyes glowing, "No, you won't hurt me, I'm invincible remember?" She laughs, shaking her head, "Alright, last time." You grin ear to ear and took off running. Allison brings the bow up, listening to you run. She sees glimpses of you, through the trees, and the arrow is gone. She sighs, she didn't hit you, she's shouting at you "I told you! I can't do it!"

You touch her back, startling her, she lets out a small yelp and turns to you. Her eyes go wide when she sees the arrow sticking out of your shoulder. "Oh, Jesus Y/n," her bow drops and she's bringing her hands up to try and get it to stop bleeding. "Oh quit being a pussy and pull it out," you rolled your eyes, grabbing her wrist and bringing it to the arrow in your shoulder. "I'm so sorry I hit you-" she pulls it out and you let out a long groan, already feeling better with the object dislodged. "Don't be sorry, you hit me, let's do it again." Allisons eyes widen, if that's even possible, and shakes her head, "No, absolutely not." You laugh, "Lighten up buttercup, I'm invincible remember? And this time I'm not going easy." She scoffs at you, "Easy? Oh I see how it is, run little wolf, run." With that, you take off running, Allison laughing at your excitement.

Kira is frozen, she feels like she died, you were her best friend. Over anyone else, you'd been the first to accept her, the first to fight for her, the first one she'd confided in.

"Kira, what the hell are you saying?" You're sitting with your arms crossed at a picnic table, nose in your homework. "I-I know that we were friends first, so I was going to tell you first, before I said any-" You slam your hand one the table, "Kira, baby, spit it out, fuck." This is the you realize that Kira's scent holds fear and anxiety. "Kira, what's wrong?" You're more serious now, waiting for the bomb to drop that there's another fight to be had. "I like Scott, like like him, Jesus please don't be mad." You burst into full laughter, tears streaming from your eyes.

When you calm down Kira is staring at you, piddling with the strings on her sleeves. "Oh, my god," you laugh again, trying to calm yourself. "You're not mad?" You laugh harder, smacking the table a few times, "Jesus Christ no, I can't believe-" you stand up still laughing, hugging her. "I don't give a shit," rubbing her back, "you had nothing to worry about, as long as you don't get mad if I fuck your dad." Kira jerks back, shock on her face, "Y/n!" You laugh harder, "I'm fucking kidding, jeez," you sit back down, "fucking sit down and gush to me about my brother."

She shakes herself out of it when she feels her mother enclose her in a hug. Tears finally falling.

Lydia's scream has finally ended, and she's inconsolable. Memories flooding through her head as she lays her head on an unconscious Stiles.

"Lydia god dammit," you truck to the pool, "did you find another one?" You stop at the strong scent of blood, rushing to Lydia, Stiles right behind you. "Are you hurt?" Lydia shakes her head, staring at you, "I already called 911." Stiles looks hurt, arguing with Lydia over why she should call him before the police, but you push him to the side. "Heya honey," you wrap your arms around her waist, "it's okay, don't listen to Stiles grumpy ass, let's me and you go sit." You're not sure why you aren't phased by the body next to you, but you let Stiles do whatever he needs to do for Scott while you try and get Lydia's head back down to Earth.

"Hey Lyds, dontcha think you're a little overdressed to come to the pool?" She lets out a small chuckle and you relax a little, "This can't be my new normal, Y/n. Finding dead bodies? I can't take this." You hold her hand, sighing, "None of us asked for this Lydia, I'm so sorry. If you want I can stay with you for a few days, follow you if you zonk out again?" Lydia just nods, and she feels for the first time that you're as much her best friend as Allison.

Lydia can't stop crying, Scott is trying to get ahold of himself, Kira is crying with her mother, Isaac is breathless and in pain, and Allison is held by her father.

"She did it for me dad," Allison sobs, her father already made sure she wasn't hurt, "she did it for me and I don't know why." Chris shushes her, running his fingers through her hair, grateful for your sacrifice so his beautiful girl could live. "She did it because she loved you," Allison sobs harder, "I know sweet girl, but listen, we have to deal with this. You can cry, scream, break things later, but now? Now we get our stories straight." Allison nods, and her dad is off to Scott to prep him.

When Stiles finds out, it's like every cell in his body failed him. Scott caught him and pulled him into a hug, tears streaming down his face. "I know. I know brother." Stiles can't breathe, it's been a long time since he's had a panic attack, but here he is, without you, panicking.

"Stiles," you sigh, throwing a ball against his ceiling and back into your hand, sprawled out on his bed, "you've gotta stop." Stiles shakes his head, "No, no there is something here!" He tosses the books to the floor, you get off the bed, wrapping your arms around him from behind, "You'll find it but you're not going to without sleep. Come on." You tug him back to his bed, "Let's nap, and then we'll come back to all," you gesture to his board covered in multicolored string, "this." Stiles sighs heavily, letting you pull him to the bed. It's not the first time, and certainly wouldn't be the last, that you've convinced him to sleep. He crawls in next to you and you throw your arm open, allowing him to lay his head over your heart. He falls asleep to the lull of the thump thump thump.

Stiles shakes himself out of the memory, remembering that he'll never hear that beautiful sound again and vows to hold onto it. He lets out a pained, choked sob, "Scott-" Scotts arms are around him still, Scott can smell the guilt coming off of the small man, "Don't - It was not your fault Stiles. It wasn't anyone's fault." Scott lets Stiles cry, mourn his best friend, the woman he's come to love like his own sister. "Have you told Derek?" Scott sighs, Stiles already knows the answer.

When they get to Derek's place, Derek opens the door, already smelling them and their horribly displaced emotions. "What is it?" Scott lets himself in, Stiles following close behind him and he's checking for his little flame, and when you're nowhere to be found, his heart sinks. "Where's Y/n?" Derek can smell the grief coming off of Scott in waves, not missing the anger that hides beneath it. "Fuck, my little flame," his voice sounds broken, barely audible to the human boy who stares sorrowful at him.

"Derek Hale!" You kick the door open to home, "Derek Hale! Get your ass out here!" Derek almost materializes behind you, but you're just as quick as he is. "Derek Hale! I oughtta kill you, you son of a bitch!" You march to him, taking him off guard by your fist that collides into his face. He's knocked back a couple feet, staring at you with glowing eyes. Your eyes match his, "I am not afraid of your eyes, wolf boy! You turned three people!" Derek shrugs, "So what if I did?" You go for a second punch, this time caught by Derek, he can't smell a single ounce of fear, only fury.

"They knew what they were getting into," Derek lets go of your hand. "Oh, fuck you, Derek," you shove him back, "you can spin that stupid story to whoever you want, but you and I know better." Derek shrugs, "So what? They're better now, stronger, and they like it." You let out a deep growl, "Did you tell them about the death?" You step forward towards him, "Did you tell them how they'd be pulled into every murder in this town?" You shove him back again, following his step backwards, "Did you tell them of the pain? Did you? Of course not." Your hand grasps his chin, squeezing painfully with your claws out, making him look at you, "Hear me Derek Hale and hear me good. If anything," you squeezed him harder, bringing a hiss from him, "and I mean anything, happens to them, I will hurt you." You back away and head out of his house, stopping at his door, "And trust me, I'm a fire you can't put out." He laughs, watching you walk away, but mumbling just where you can barely hear, "I have a feeling I don't want to be burned by your flame."

A growl explodes from his lips, pain filling his entire being. You've been the glue that holds them all together, bringing them back from the brink again and again. How could they survive without you?

Months after your death, they've settled back into the groove of things, nothing ever feels the same without you though.

They talk about you all the time, Stiles has a tendency to try and calm people down like you did. Trying to help keep everyone grounded. He's nowhere near as good at it like you were, but he's trying. Allison keeps your memory around by never changing her lock screen, a picture of everyone in the pack resting on the screen she checks every five minutes. Isaac has found a new anchor, with Scott's help, using himself to be able to control the rage that flurries inside of him after your death. Lydia lives for adopting your fire, absolutely never keeping her mouth shut much to everyone's dismay, but it's a way to keep your image around. Kira has become closer to Allison and Lydia, but she knows they'll never replace you. They don't laugh at her like you did when she talks about Scott, and it's a painful memory. Derek's become much more involved with Scott's pack, dedicated to doing what he can for not fighting by your side the right you died, a debt he'll never repay. Scott finds his peace in his pack, but the hole in his heart for his sister will never fade, like the newly placed fire tattoo on his forearm will never fade.

They are all eternally grateful.

They all know it'll never be the same.

They all hate your sacrifice.

[soulofapatrick]

Teen Wolf Character Profiles

How I Picture Peter Rupert Atticus Thornberry: (plays Y/N in my one shots)

Born: August 11th, 1997

Somewhat shy but there's a fiery passion hidden there. Would die for those he loves and trusts. Lives with the Stilinski's - sometimes (depends on the one shot) sees Stiles and Scott as siblings. His original family were also murdered by Kate Argent. Usually a were fox and sometimes an emissary and sometimes just human. 5'9" but honestly looks tiny despite it - even next to Parrish he looks small. Covered in scars and freckles - the scars won't heal for some reason. Hair ranges between a strawberry brown - more red than brown - to a light chestnut brown. Eyes are hazel but change between green, blue and yellowish depending on the light

How I picture Mieczyslaw Noah "Stiles" Stilinski:

Born: April 9th, 1996

Hyperactive teen with a quick mind for puzzles. ADHD. Would do anything for those he cares about.  5'10" but tries to make himself look smaller sometimes. Has a nervous tick where he rubs the back of his neck. Cognac eyes that can only be described to be puppy dog eyes. Brownish black hair - depends on the light/ Canonically bisexual, Usually ends up saving the day. Usually is pack Mom

How I Picture Scott Michael McCall:

Born: October 8th, 1995

Good intentions but usually goes wrong, Can be a neglectful friend. Doesn't always get along with Peter Thornberry. Soft boi. Tanned skin, tattoo still vibrant. Also 5'10".  Eyes so dark they're almost black. Jet black hair.  Alpha but doesn't always deserve it. Secondary Alpha to Derek Hale.

How I Picture Derek Clark Hale:

Born December 25th, 1988

The true and main alpha. Reserved - scared to get hurt again. Struggles to let anyone in. Stiles will always be his anchor. Comes across as a sourwolf but is really very sweet. 6' 0" with broad shoulders that make him look a lot taller. Jet black hair and beard. Sunflower hazel eyes that change colour slightly depending on the light. Passionate and very protective of his pack

How I Picture Liam Samuel Dunbar:

Born: July 7th, 1999

Puppy and baby. His anchor is his anger like Derek taught him. Sweet but can get very passionate when he's invested. 5'8" and hates it as he looks tiny compared to most of the pack. Hair started off a blondish brown which over the years gets darker until he's a full blown brunette. Electric blue eyes that hold most of his emotions. Bisexual disaster most of the time

How I Picture Isaac Elijah Lahey

Born September 22nd 1995

Peter Thornberry's first beta. Very soft and extremely sarcastic. Claustrophobic. Possessive over protecting Peter T - even to some of the pack mates like Theo. 6'1" but always ducks his head and slouches to make himself smaller. Has a lot of PTSD that he usually goes to Stiles, Lydia or Peter T for comfort. His hair starts off blondish brown which over the years gets darker until it's hard to decipher if he's blond or brunette. Ice blue eyes that darken when angry or scared

How I Picture Peter Angus Hale:

Born: October 27th, 1970

Is an asshole to everyone because he doesn't want anyone to know he feels things. Very family orientated, even when on a power trip. Is an amazing cook. Tries to get the pack's trust but usually only gets Peter T to trust him. Takes Allison in like another daughter as he loves her fire and rage. 5'8" and will do anything to look taller. His eyes are a mixture between gunmetal blue and ice blue. It's his eyes that hold the true emotions he's feeling - Peter T is the only one who can read him. His hair is a very dark brown that can also look greyish brown with a few stray greys that Peter T finds hot

How I Picture Jackson Grant Whittemore:

Born: June 15th, 1996

Hides behind his asshole personality - Very misunderstood and struggled with his upbringing. Is practically a brother like figure to Peter T usually. He's actually very funny and sweet but does not let anyone see it - Peter T had to force it out of him at first. Like Isaac, he's very protective of Peter T. Finally accepted he's part of Derek and Scott's joined pack. 5'7" but holds himself taller than that. Hair is majority blond but as he gets older he gains a few more brunette strands. Baby blue eyes that are usually rimmed with hidden pain - ashamed of his werewolf blue eyes

How I Picture Jordan Anthony Parrish:

Born: March 24th, 1988

Surprisingly shy around Peter T. Scared to hurt anyone with his powers but will protect almost anyone - even strangers. Becomes an older brother to Isaac - even when not revealed to be Camden Lahey. He tries not to go to Peter T for help unless he really needs it or a break from the supernatural. 5'9" but seems a lot taller than that. His hair ranges from a reddish brown (auburn) to a solid brunette/chestnut brown colour. His eyes are between a chartreuse green and hazel

How I Picture Nolan Ian Holloway:

Born August 24th, 1999

Forced to join the hunters by Gabe to protect his little brother and sister. After changing sides he gets severely injured and Liam consents for Nolan to be bitten. Scott bites him and Nolan becomes a werecoyote. Bonds with Malia surprisingly and slowly gets trusted. Becomes an emissary of sorts - helped by Stiles and Peter T. 5'8" but doesn't mind it because he's ever so slightly taller than Liam. Hair is brilliant brown with natural blonde streaks and he has freckles across his nose. Eyes are a brownish blue which is incredibly rare

[usermischief]

♙Pairing: Stackson ♙Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Danny Mahealani, Brett Talbot, ♙Warnings: [I tried] None ♙Words: 5139 ♙ Stiles Rarepair Week Day 5: future/post-canon exploration

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for @voidstilesplease, I really hope you like it. I tried, I really did 😂

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“So,” Lydia’s dark red lips curl into a dangerous smile, “how was your date?”

Stiles slumps onto the chair next to her, gesturing for a drink. “She was… nice.”

Lydia grimaces. “That bad?”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Not at all. The girl is gorgeous and smart and such a sweetheart. They talked the whole night, Stiles yet again lied about his job while she swooned about being a kindergarten teacher. They even had the same humor and adoration for Star Wars. It should have been perfect. They should’ve been perfect. And yet, halfway through the date, Stiles found himself to be utterly bored. As nice as she is, that’s the problem.

“Sweetheart, if you describe a girl as ‘nice’ after a date, it was exactly that bad.”

Groaning, Stiles puts his head on his arms. “I’m doomed to die alone.”

Lydia pats his shoulder comfortingly. “No, no. You just need to be less picky.” Less picky. Stiles isn’t picky at all. “Or you gotta look somewhere you never thought you’d find someone.”

Squinting, Stiles lifts his head again and studies her expression. She looks so perfectly innocent behind her Martini glass, Stiles knows for a fact that there’s evil brewing behind that pretty face of hers. “What?”

“Nothing.” Lydia raises her free hand defensively. “I’m just saying that maybe dating apps aren’t your thing. Maybe you should look at those around you.” She raises one of her perfectly plucked brows. It doesn’t matter how innocent she pretends to be, she’s planning some shit. If she’s in a mood like that, Lydia cannot be trusted.

Stiles straightens again, thanking the barkeeper for his drink. Befriending Ryan was one of the best choices they could’ve made because the guy makes the best cocktails, and for some reason, he always seems to know exactly how strong his drink needs to be. Today’s cocktail concoction has enough vodka to make his Polish genes more than a little happy. He sighs and turns to Lydia. “I’m not dating anybody from my team.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t talking about your team. There are more people in your life than your team.”

“Well…” Stiles drums his fingers onto the bar, tipping his glass this way and that, “sure, there are a lot of people working at HQ.” But from another team. It’s hard enough that Stiles is working all over the country more often than not. If his partner were to work at the FBI as well, their relationship would be a tragedy before it even begins. “And there are the various people making sure I don’t starve to death or am under-caffeinated.” None of them really sticks out if he’s perfectly honest. “And then there’s you and Ryan, which…” he trails off, waving his hand around a little. Lydia and he dated for a month until admitting to each other that it feels like dating their sibling.

Lydia studies him over the edge of her glass. “Nobody else? What about deputies? Or lawyers?”

“Not since Jackson specialized in supernatural cases.”

“Jackson?” Lydia almost sounds as if that’s some kind of surprise to her… which it is not. She’s friends with Jackson and Danny. Stiles knows for a fact that they’re seeing each other on a regular basis. For her to act surprised makes zero sense.

“Speaking of Jackson,” Stiles says, running his fingers along his glass, “I have the questionable honor to spend tomorrow evening with him. Any tips?”

Lydia’s eyes widen. So does her smile. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing spectacular, it’s just a work date. We gotta go over some files.”

“What top do you want then?”

Stiles shrugs. “On how to keep him tolerable for a few hours.”

Lydia chuckles. “He’s not that bad, you know?”

Oh, Stiles knows. Jackson is not like he used to be; well, mostly. He’s still a spoiled piece of shit, but he’s not acting like a dick every second of every day. Stiles does not want to smack him either. However, it’s the first time he’s completely alone with Jackson. Stiles suggested his office, but Jackson insisted they meet at his penthouse. As if Stiles needs a reminder that Jackson is getting richer every single day. Stiles is still living in the same flat he’s lived in during his studies. It’s not that he couldn’t afford something better, but he’s almost never home anyway.

“I don’t wanna talk about work any longer.”

“Jackson does not have to be ‘just work’,” Lydia says, quirking a brow. “He can be fun too.”

Stiles furrows his brow. “You mean a friend.” He’s just making sure because her definition of fun usually involves no clothes and lots of moaning. So, Stiles isn’t entirely sure what Lydia is insinuating. “Right?”

“Yes.” Lydia looks at him, smiling a little too innocently. “What did I say?”

“How many Martinis did you have?”

She grins and sips on her drink. Oh, this is going to be a long night.

—————

"That's not enough proof."

"How is this not enough proof?" Stiles slams his right hand on the file, narrowing his eyes. "Dude had fourteen bodies in his basement's built-in freezer." He taps on the papers aggressively, as if that's going to change anything. "Fourteen, Jackson. Two of those bodies are those of missing girls." What more do they need to get this wendigo behind bars? No judge or jury would consider this guy innocent… unless his defense attorney is better than Jackson and the evidence they do have. That shouldn’t be possible. He was a fantastic defense attorney and a fucking pain in Stiles’ ass on more than one occasion.

Jackson crosses his arms, sinking deeper in his designer armchair. "And five of those bodies come from the morgue. Including papers."

"That's five against nine unaccounted bodies." Stiles crosses his arms over his thighs.

"I know that," Jackson says, now leaning forward to do the same. "But the defense is going to argue that everything he did was legal." He quirks a brow and reaches for his bottle of beer.

Stiles has the urge to bang his head against the wall. Instead, he props his chin on his hand and studies Jackson. To be perfectly honest, Stiles is glad that Jackson is finally on his team. Hopefully, he’s going to do an even better job now that he’s a state attorney. After all, they’re sitting on a powder keg. It’s only going to be a matter of time until the supernatural will be known everywhere, and when that happens, they need to prove to the humans that they don’t have to be afraid, that everything is under control and the supernaturals are treated just as strictly as any human would. Jackson as an attorney can make this happen even if working with him is going to drive Stiles up the wall.

“We haven’t found anything for the other bodies.”

“That doesn’t mean the evidence doesn’t exist.”

Stiles licks his lips. “You think he met the girls online.” It’s not impossible. Stiles knows about message boards from cannibals for cannibals. If someone offers themselves up to be eaten, Stiles doubts they’ll be bothered if it’s a wendigo instead of a human. “If that’s the case—”

“You think he’s guilty?” Jackson sets the bottle down and leans closer.

“What does that matter?”

“Do you think he’s guilty?”

“Yes.” Stiles pushes the files away from him and slumps back on the couch. “Yes, he’s fucking guilty, okay? But that doesn’t make evidence magically appear.”

Jackson chuckles even though there’s absolutely nothing funny happening right now. “Good.”

“Good?” Scoffing, Stiles reaches for his own beer and takes a swig. He’d rather drink his beer before he says something stupid. The last fucking thing he needs is getting into an argument with Jackson. After all, they’re on the same team now. They need to get along. Arguing is only going to make things so much more complicated.

“Yes, good.” Jackson taps a finger against the bottle in his hand. “Because that means the guy is guilty.”

Stiles snaps his gaze back to Jackson. “What?” What? Did he hear that right? Sure, they’ve been getting along better than they did in high school — even though they haven’t really been enemies back then either — but this kind of niceness, this trust is new. Jackson doesn’t hand it out, and he especially doesn’t hand it to him. It’s a big jump from being something like colleagues to basically saying ‘I trust that your instinct is right even though we don’t have any evidence’.

“If you think this guy belongs behind bars, that’s where he’ll end up.” Jackson shrugs and leans back again.

If Stiles hadn’t known him before, judging by the way he sits in his expensive leather armchair, he would’ve pegged him as a supervillain straight out of a James Bond movie. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Stiles runs a hand through his hair then drinks the rest of his beer in one go. “But what if we don’t find anything?”

“Then that’s the evidence we need.” Jackson crosses his legs. “If we can prove he did not exchange any previous messages with the victims or received any other form of written consent, he broke the law. Simple as that.” Simple as that coming from the guy who’s only having to ask questions and present the evidence, Stiles and his team have to gather within twenty-four hours unless Jackson manages to convince the judge to decide that there is probable cause for the charge. But that should be the least of their problems. Locking him up for the rest of his pathetic life, that’s the problem.

Sighing, Stiles puts the empty bottle back on the table and hides his face in his hands. Tomorrow is going to be one hell of a day. He’s so glad Stiles managed to convince his boss and Danny to join his team. There is nobody else who could get through a workload like that as effectively as Danny Mahealani. Stiles would throw himself out of the window of Jackson’s penthouse. He still might, especially if this job is not going the way he wants it to.

This is more than a little tiring. Catching the guy has already been an exhausting mess, but making sure he stays locked up? That’s a whole other story.

“Come on, Stilinski.” God, Jackson hasn’t called him that since their early High School years. Is that how much time has passed? They’re adults. They’re fucking adults, and they’re both in charge of the safety of humanity by making sure the nutjobs in the supernatural world will be trialed and locked up. “You caught the guy. If you cannot lock him up, nobody else can.”

Stiles rubs his cheeks then lowers his hands and squints at Jackson. “How come you’ve been so abnormally nice to me all of the sudden?”

Jackson quirks a brow, studying him over the rim of the bottle of beer. “What do you mean?”

Did the guy not hear himself talk? All these little compliments, his reassuring Stiles. That’s not Jackson. “You just seem nicer than usual is all.”

With a chuckle, Jackson empties his beer. “I can come up with a couple of insults really quick.” He puts the bottle on the table and folds his arms over his thighs. The shirt tightens around his shoulders and upper arms. He works out. Those biceps are definitely new. Stiles would’ve noticed them before. Right? Right. “Or punch you in the face if you want.”

“Okay, that’s a little excessive, don’t you think?” Stiles presses his lips together, trying his best not to smile. “You never punched me.”

“No,” Jackson agrees, nodding slowly, “but you punched me. Hard.”

“To be fair, you called my dad useless, and Scott expected me to throw my dad to the wolves. Literally.” Stiles bounces his left leg and sighs, running a hand over the nape of his neck. “Still, sorry about that. I should’ve handled that better.” He really should’ve. His anger issues have followed him around for a lot longer than he’d like to admit, but his teenage years really were the worst. “And if it makes you feel better, you’re not the only supernatural creature I’ve punched in the face.” He wriggles his fingers then lowers his hands.

Jackson shrugs. “I did deserve it.”

“Not really.” Shaking his head, Stiles gets to his feet. Nobody deserves to be punched that night. They were all stressed to the max, being hunted by Peter. “Anyway, I should get going.” Jackson being nice and talking about the past makes him feel nostalgic, and he really doesn’t need that right now. He needs a clear head.

“You don’t have to go.”

Stiles hugs the file to his chest, feeling strangely lost as he looks down at Jackson. Part of him doesn’t want to leave. At all. “Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.” He brushes his finger along the side of the file, swallowing heavily. “I’ll call you the second we’ll find something.”

Jackson nods slowly, following him to the elevator. “I’ll keep you updated on the judge.”

“Great.”

“Good.”

They stand there for a moment, and Stiles feels even more lost now. So much more than only a second ago. Maybe he should stay? Just for an hour. Not too long. It’s still early after all. No. No. Stiles hits the button for the elevator. “See you soon.” Why did that come out like a question? “Oh, and thanks for the beer.” The elevator doors slide open with a quiet ding.

“Hey,” Jackson says when the elevator doors slide open, “I can swing by the office… tomorrow? Judge McLoughlin should make his decision before lunch.”

Stiles nods, feeling strangely — what? — hopeful? “That sounds nice.“ He presses the button for the ground floor, suddenly wanting tomorrow to come sooner.

“Great. I should be there around twelve.” Jackson smiles.

Fuck, Stiles really forgot how handsome he is. “It’s a date.” The elevator doors slide shut. It’s a date. Groaning, Stiles smacks the folder against his forehead. What the hell?

———

"Someone didn’t get laid last night, huh?" Brett crosses his ankles on Isaac's empty chair. "I tol—"

"You are about one stupid comment away from ending up in the obituaries, so proceed with caution." Stiles quirks a brow. “Now, get your shoes off that chair and make yourself useful.” Being in a leading position is nothing Stiles enjoys a lot. It’s especially weird to be the leader of a team that consists of his high school buddies — and then there’s Brett. Usually, working with the guy is easy, but Stiles really isn’t up for his humor today.

Brett huffs out a breath. “I’m better in the field.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Then why didn’t you send me with Isaac?”

“Because we need to gain the girls’ trust, not their phone numbers.” As amazing as Brett has been at his jobs for the last three years, Stiles is not about to send him to a few cute college girls in order to get information. He may be a fool, but he’s certainly not a fucking idiot. Besides, they both know that Kira and Isaac are the best people to convince others that they can be trusted.

Danny isn’t even trying to hide his amusement. They’re all getting along wonderfully, but schadenfreude is still written in capital letters here. Mostly because they’re all assholes. Well, everyone aside from Kira. Stiles has no clue how she’s handling all of them, day in and day out. The poor girl really doesn’t have it easy.

Stiles runs his fingers through his hair. “Any news, Danny?”

“Not since the last time you asked me—” Danny leans back to check the clock on the wall “— seven minutes ago.”

Stiles huffs out a breath and folds his arms over his chest. They’ve been at it for two hours, and so far they haven’t found anything. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But having something in his hand is better than trying to prove nothing is exactly the evidence they need. There’s gotta be something. A picture. A text message. Stiles would sell his soul for something to prove that this fucker belongs behind bars. Maybe he’s missed something in the files. Maybe the evidence has been sitting right in front of them all along.

Biting his bottom lip, Stiles glances back at the clock. Jackson should be here any second. Hopefully, he’s coming with good news. At this point, Stiles cannot handle any more negative news, or he is going to lose his fucking shit. "Yo, Stiles?"

Stiles looks up from the file, massaging his temples. "Yeah?"

"What car's our guy driving?" Brett leans back in his chair, looking at Stiles with raised brows.

That's a good question. Drawing his eyebrows together, he flicks through the file and scans the personal information. "A light-blue 2012 Honda Accord." He gets to his feet, anticipation making it impossible to sit down. "Please, please, tell me you got something."

“Oh, Babe, you're gonna love this,” Brett smirks way too confidently.

Stiles flicks the side of his head. They talked about his lack of professionalism multiple times in the very beginning, but nobody else seems really bothered by Brett’s love for pet names, and as long as he only does it while they’re alone, it’s hard to argue against. Still, Stiles wouldn’t mind a better pet name than ‘Baby’. It doesn’t exactly show a lot of creativity. Well, it’s still better than Sugarplum. Poor Isaac.

“So,” Stiles says, propping his hands on the edge of Brett’s desk, “what do you got for me?”

“I noticed it in the last story before she disappeared.” Brett pulls up a short little video and points at the right corner of the screen. “Look here.” He hits play, finger still pressed against the corner of the screen.

And Stiles saw it. Just for a second. A light blue 2012 Honda Accord. The license plate is impossible to decipher like this, and there is no way to see who is sitting in the car. Still, it is the car they are looking for, and it happened only a day before she disappeared. Also, Brett probably would not have called him over if this was the only instance of spotting this car. In fact, Brett showed him two more stories and three pictures spread out over the last three weeks. Chances are that’s the same car with the same fucking driver. Chances are this is their guy.

Grinning, Stiles ruffles Brett’s hair. “I could kiss you right now.”

“Not at the office.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Send them to Danny.” He pushes away from the desk. “Danny, I need you on this ASAP. Try to get a clear image of the car. We need to know if that’s him.” Because if that is him, they got him. There’s no way out of this one. “Brett, text Isaac. Maybe her friends noticed something about the car. I’ll try to get a hang of Jackson, maybe—”

“Jackson just texted me.” Danny leans back in his chair, frowning at his phone. “Something came up… and he wants me to tell you that the judge is on our side. Dude’s gonna stay locked up for the time being.”

Stiles should be thrilled about the news. That’s what he wanted, isn’t it? He wanted the wendigo to stay behind bars until they found proof. Now, they found proof, and he will not be released. Ever. Period. But… but. He’s not as excited as he thought he’d be. Stiles would’ve preferred if Jackson told him directly. They were supposed to go to lunch too. “That’s great news.”

Brett snorts. “You couldn’t have said that with a bit more enthusiasm?”

For the peace of his own mind, Stiles decides to ignore him. However, looking at Danny doesn’t make this thing any easier because the look Danny is giving him is making his skin crawl. It’s not fun. “I’m starving,” he says, turning away from Danny and his searching look, and grabs his jacket. “I’ll be back in ten.” Without waiting for an answer, Stiles rushes out of the room.

—————

“You look like you’re ready to consider if the hangover is worth it.”

Stiles draws his eyebrows together and looks up at the man sitting down next to him. Oh no, he’s really not up for small talk right now. He still tries to be polite, knowing all too well how easily pissed-off intoxicated people can be. “You know how it is.” He certainly does not, but Stiles isn’t about to elaborate. Sighing, he checks his phone again.

Isaac and Brett insisted they needed to celebrate their success. Which, okay, it’s something they’re always doing, but today is one of the days he’s rather have stayed home and watched a stupid Netflix show to drown out whatever the fuck is going on with him. He wishes he could say that it has absolutely nothing to do with Jackson basically ghosting him. The guy has really left him on read for two days now. Stiles even invited him for tonight, remembering Lydia’s words, but nothing. No text, no call. Zero. Zilch. Stiles is almost a hundred percent sure he did something to piss Jackson off. Not just because he’s completely ignoring him. Danny has been giving him weird looks as well ever since Jackson didn’t show up for lunch.

Oh god.

Is it because of the date comment? It can’t be because of the date comment. Please, let it not be because of that stupid fucking date comment. Jackson should know by now that his mouth doesn't always work properly. He didn’t mean date date. Did Jackson really think it’s a date, and that’s why he didn’t come?

Stiles swallows and drops his phone. Fuck. It’s not like they were flirting or anything. Sure, their meetings became progressively easier, but they were never too friendly, right? Right? Scrunching up his face, Stiles downs the contents of his whiskey.

The guy next to him chuckles. “I don’t think I know how that feels.”

“I really don’t need a running commentary on my life, Buddy.”

“I wasn’t trying to intrude.”

Stiles raises a brow and finally turns to look at the guy next to him. He’s quite handsome, probably in his mid-to-late-thirties. His suit costs undoubtedly more than Stiles makes in six months. It’s also not his unless he’s got a terrible tailor. The shoulders are just a little too loose. The suit jacket doesn’t fit properly around his waist either. The perfectly trimmed three o’clock shadow doesn’t help his case. Neither does wearing a suit like that in a bar that’s filled with people in comfortable clothes. The dude either used to be rich, or he’s got some serious self-esteem issues he thinks he can cover up with his best friend’s suit.

“Okay.” The guy grabs Stiles’ glass and shakes it at the barkeeper. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“I really don’t—”

“I insist. As an apology.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Listen, I’m waiting for someone.” Actually, he’s waiting for four someones, but clearly, his team isn’t in the mood for being on time today. Then again, Stiles arrived very early as well. Because he was sitting in his flat, staring at his phone and the last message that went unanswered.

“They’re not here yet, aren’t they?”

Ryan places a drink on him, and, judging by the look on his face, it’s none alcoholic. “You good, Mate?”

Even though Ryan is staring at the guy, Stiles is highly aware that he’s talking to him. “I’m good, thanks.” It’s not the first douche he’s had to deal with, and it probably won’t be the last; especially in his line of work. “Thanks though.” Smiling, Stiles grabs the drink and gets to his feet. His team should arrive shortly, hopefully, and he’d prefer to have already saved them a booth by then. He turns around, not paying the guy any more attention.

Who clearly is not done with him. “Hey,” he says, loud enough that the people closest to them turn around. “I got you that drink.”

Ryan chuckles and props himself onto his elbows. “It’s on the house.”

The guy shoots him a glare then turns back to Stiles. His neck flushes. Oh, someone’s not handling being turned down very well. And mocked. And stared at. This has to be his worst nightmare.

Stiles loves it. He probably shouldn’t, but he does. So much. Trying his best to keep his expression under control, Stiles turns and faces him again. “You wanna say something to me?” He quirks a brow then leans a little closer, lowering his voice. “Like, I don’t know, that I owe you because you took time out of your evening to talk to me? Or because you tried to buy me a drink I didn’t want?”

He’s gnashing his teeth now, shoulders going rigid.

“Come on,” Stiles urges, fingers itching for a fight for the first in a very long time, “be that guy. You know you want to.”

“Or just move along.”

Stiles steps aside, whipping his head around. Jackson is standing next to him, arms folded tightly over his chest. His white button-down and black jeans make him look extra attractive, and Stiles cannot believe that thought just crossed his mind. He’s been thinking a lot about Jackson… which isn’t much better now that he thinks about that.

The guy narrows his eyes. “And why would I?”

“Because I just asked you politely, and I only do that once.” Jackson’s expression remains firmly neutral, probably because he’s more than used to people doing whatever he wants.

Much to Stiles’ relief and dismay, the dickhead actually does move away. It’s good. It really is because Stiles probably would’ve provoked him until he stepped out of line. Still. “You know, I could’ve handled that myself.”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you did a stellar job.”

Like he needs anyone to judge his methods. Stiles huffs out a breath and walks over to one of the empty tables in the corner. “What are you even doing here?”

“You invited me, remember?” Jackson slips into the booth, motioning Stiles to sit down next to him. Which, seriously? First, the guy ghosts him and now he’s expecting Stiles to pretend like nothing happened and sit down next to him?

Narrowing his eyes, Stiles collapses onto the bench, bumping his leg against Jackson. He crosses his arms. Fine, maybe he sits down next to him, but he’s not gonna be happy about it. “I didn’t expect you’d show up after not replying to any of the texts I’ve sent you in the past 48 hours.”

Jackson nudges a napkin with his index finger. “It was a misunderstanding.”

Stiles stares at him. “We didn’t talk?!”

Jackson shoots him a look then returns his attention to poking the napkin. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh no. No way, Sir.” Stiles is so not going to let him get away with this. Seriously. “First, we agreed on meeting during lunch, then you tell Danny that you’re not coming, who then proceeded to look at me as if I insulted his grandmother, and you fucking leave me on read for two fucking days.” He turns around, swatting Jackson’s upper arm. “I think you owe me a fucking explanation.”

“I think you can chill with the expletives.”

“I don’t think I fucking will.” Stiles narrows his eyes. “It’s not fucking fun to have Danny glare at you from across the room every two seconds.”

Jackson lets out a breath and finally looks at him. “You really don’t know.” It’s not a question, and for some reason, Jackson seems to be amused about his own realization. “Can’t believe Lydia’s right.”

“Right about what?” What the hell is he talking about now? Is he trying to confuse him on purpose?

With yet another sigh, Jackson leans back, studying Stiles’ face for a few seconds. He’s still smiling a little. “That you wouldn’t notice that I like you until I spell it out for you.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed to meet you alone if I thought you’d hate me.”

“No, Stiles…” Jackson trails off. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath. “I’m talking about the ‘I booked a table at your favorite restaurant and ordered a bouquet of flowers for our lunch date’ kind of like.”

Stiles opens his mouth then closes it again, squinting a little. “Wha— oh.” Oh god. Jackson thought it was a date date. He wanted it to be an actual date? Jackson Whittemore… the Jackson Whittemore booked a table and bought him a bouquet of flowers because he thought Stiles meant a date date. He can’t believe it. That’s gotta be a joke. “Wait… you like me?”

Jackson nods very slowly.

“For my personality?”

“Nobody was as surprised as me.”

“Rude.” Stiles boxes Jackson’s upper arm very lightly, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Wait… then why did you cancel everything?” That doesn’t make any sense. If Jackson thought Stiles was talking about a date date, and he wanted it to be a date date… then why drop everything and run? It doesn’t make a lot of sense.

Jackson shifts on the bench, left leg now pressing against Stiles’. “I heard Talbot call you babe.”

“He has pet names for all of us.”

“Danny told me as much.” Jackson nods and runs a hand over the nape of his neck. “Then Lydia reminded me that you’re stupid and that I need to get my head out of my ass if I wanted to go on a date with you, so… here I am.”

Stiles bounces his leg, feeling stupidly giddy all of the sudden — giddy enough that he decides to ignore Lydia’s comment. “You… still wanna go on a date with me?”

“I would like that, yeah.”

His heart did not just flutter. Nope. Never. Stiles clears his throat and grins. Oh god, this… he didn’t expect this at all. “I don’t have an expensive suit, so…”

Jackson puts a hand on his thigh, and Stiles’ pulse goes sky-high within the flicker of a second. “We could rent a movie. Order in.”

Stiles likes that idea so much more than going out. He places his hand on Jackson’s, running his thumb over the side of his index finger. “And no flowers, I can’t even keep a cactus alive.”

Unexpectedly, Jackson lifts their hands and kisses the back of Stiles’, just above his wrist. Fuck. He’s never going to admit what this small little gesture is doing to him. “That works for me.”

He’s going on a date with Jackson.

He’s going on a date with Jackson.

Stiles beams. “Wonderful.”

[whitedahlia13]

Okay but it’s actually so cute and kinda funny that Lydia got so worried and guilty about not saying I love you back to Stiles but the second they saw each other and she told him that he was like “lol cool story I already knew anyway so I’m just gonna kiss you rn and not ask you to say it”. Like he was so confident in that moment that I remember being genuinely surprised when he stepped forward to kiss her.

I agree! What you described is a big part of why I love their reunion so much. Because there had to be moments all along when Stiles thought Lydia loved him, others when he was sure of it. But this is really the first time we as the audience get the validation we’ve been waiting for: Stiles knows that Lydia loves him, probably has for a long time.

And while his confidence might seem surprising at first glance, it also makes perfect sense. Because Stiles has always been confident in his love for Lydia. Then, somewhere along the way, he figured out just how much she loves him back.

But there was one more piece to the puzzle: Stiles needed to know that Lydia was ready to move forward with him. Once he knows that, the confidence comes naturally.

It says so much about them as a couple. After everything they’ve been through, they are in the place where saying “I love you” is really just affirmation. Don’t get me wrong – saying those words, hearing them too, is significant and wonderful, and I’m sure Lydia does tell Stiles she loves him soon after. But above all else, showing love the way these two have – season after season... to me, that’s even more impactful than the words themselves.

Plus, their reunion links so perfectly to the previous episode, when Lydia realizes that she never said it back. Up until her memories were recovered, all she had to go on was feeling. And her feelings were so strong that she just assumed she verbalized them too. When she realizes that she didn’t, her pain is palpable – and ironically unnecessary – because Stiles DID know. He knew, and he was just waiting for the moment when he could let Lydia know that too.

Her reaction also says a lot about her progress as a character, if I might add. This is a girl who, not so long ago, would rather bury her feelings than talk about them. But now, she can’t think of a single reason why she never told the most important person in her life how she feels about him.

So yeah, Stiles knowing how Lydia feels about him, being so certain that he can dive into a kiss without any hesitation – that is monumental. Better still, the exchange between them is the culmination of years’ worth of unspoken love. It’s beautiful. It’s romantic. It’s profound. It’s poorly lit (come on TW, put a light on!). It’s Stydia.

[amatchinwater]

Pairing: Steo

Warnings: None

Words: 1234 (I can't express the sheer joy this number gives me)

@steodiscord prompt: Mistletoe

---

“Leave those alone, we agreed to open them together,” Theo says, watching Corey try to sneak closer to the tree and reach for his presents and his Beta is pulled back by Mason. “I’m just saying, you should put a little cinnamon or nutmeg in it.” The Alpha calls over his shoulder, “it makes the rum less noticeable and just makes it taste better period.”

“When you make it, you can decide what goes in it,” Stiles snips from the kitchen where he’s making himself another glass.

It’s a stupid argument, but Theo really loves to rile the other boy up. It makes him turn this delicious shade of red even on his neck that the chimera just wants to bite. So he pushes Stiles as much as he can because it’s fun and he reacts so beautifully. Can anyone really blame him? Everyone teases their crush at one point or another.

Liam whines, “come on, it’s Christmas, can’t you two get along for one day?”

The chimera crosses his arms with a smirk as he leans against the wall of the archway. Ready as ever for a quip at the wolf, but Lydia purses her lips, “or you could just sleep together and put us all at ease.”

Theo blanches, can’t even deny it really, he’s been doing a pretty good job of not showing his feelings for Stiles. No need to scare him away with all of that, they’re barely even friends right now. You’re not gonna catch him making shit worse by admitting a goddamn word. Stiles squawks from the kitchen, there’s some clanking before he meets Theo in the archway, “I don’t want to fuck Theo!”

The chimera writes off the blip to his heart from the panic of clambering into the room not as a lie. Ready again to tease, but Lydia is quicker.

“Interesting, I said nothing about fucking him,” the banshee flashes what can only be described as an evil genius smirk. Theo drops his head to hide his laugh and Stiles’ jaw all but hits the floor. The chimera now understands why she’s one of the few people the human is actually afraid of. She’s too smart for her own fucking good. “Look up, boys,” she says all too sweetly.

Doing as told, the chimera lifts his head and sees a sprig of mistletoe hanging directly over their heads. It makes Theo stand stalk straight, eyes never leaving the plant as he audibly gulps. So much for not showing his feelings, right? This is what happens when you gain a level head and a conscience, you turn into a mess of a person with feelings and a stupid heart that doesn’t know how to control itself.

Who the fuck even hung the damn thing?

He doesn’t even notice the scent of nerves that definitely aren’t his own until Stiles starts sputtering beside him. When Theo looks back at him, he has a pretty blush burning all the way down his neck- far too dark to be from the once again drained spiked eggnog in his hand- and it takes everything in him to stifle a growl at the sight. Maybe, just maybe, the human is using snark and attitude to mask his own feelings just like the Alpha does. Interesting. He used to be able to read Stiles so well, but once he started to more than like- he won’t say that other L word unprompted if he can help it- the guy, the chimera has become something akin to an idiot.

It’d be annoying and aggravating if he wasn’t so fucking enraptured by Stiles. Completely head over heels for who knows how long now. He’s painfully in love with the human, there, he said it!

“You don’t have to. N-not i-if you don’t want to,” amber eyes shine at him with a flicker of hope. Probably the only person’s hope in the world that Theo wouldn’t want to crush, rather feed.

The Alpha opens his mouth to speak. But is once again cut off.

“That’s not how mistletoe works,” Josh reminds him from the couch with Tracy. Both of his Betas seem to thoroughly enjoy the exchange.

The kanima grins at them, “yeah, Stiles. So pucker up and get it over with finally.”

Finally? Does everyone know something that Theo doesn’t? Stiles doesn’t like him, as much as the chimera would love to change that. But when the Alpha turns back to the human, the blush has impossibly darkened, mouth caught in an open frown. Stiles collects himself mostly, muttering a small, “you really don’t have to.”

No better time like the present, right?

Theo wraps an arm around Stiles, splaying his hand at the small of the other boy’s back, pulling their chests flush. Wide bambi eyes and the small squeak makes the Alpha smirk and growl softly. Cupping Stiles’ cheek, Theo leans in and kisses Stiles with everything he’s got. Sliding their tongues together when the other boy opens his mouth in a gasp. Allowing himself this chance to take what he wants.

What he needs.

When they part, they’re breathless and both have beautifully swollen lips. “I didn’t think you liked me,” Stiles breathes out, eyes barely open, hands still resting on the Alpha’s chest.

“I don’t,” Theo smirks at the panic in the human’s eyes. Fuck keeping it bottled up, time to put himself out there for once. “I’ve loved you for a long time now,” before the other boy can do much more than widen his eyes at the admission, Theo cups the nape of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. Easily forgetting that they’re surrounded by the pack and not alone.

“Okay, okay,” Liam groans, “I love you both, but can you do that somewhere I can’t see it? It’s time for presents.”

“Whatever you say, Liam,” Theo pulls back, staring into Stiles’ eyes as he says it. “Go play Santa, I know you want to.”

The human lights up and dashes towards the tree, distributing presents as Theo takes his spot on the armchair. Spreading his legs and propping an elbow on the armrest, just watching Stiles hand out the gifts, noticing two piles in front of his feet. Everyone looks to him when the last gift is given, “go nuts, you don’t have to wait for me.” Stiles tries to sit on the floor in front of him, but the chimera grabs his arm and pulls the other boy into his lap. “You sit here from now on,” Theo kisses the crook of his neck, wrapping an arm around his middle. “Good?”

“Definitely,” Stiles smiles warmly, turning his head enough to catch the Alpha’s mouth when he tries to kiss his neck again. “Open mine first,” the human bends down to pick up a small box wrapped in shiny black paper.

With a small smile, Theo tears the wrapping off and opens the little box. Written in Stiles’ erratic scribble are three words, ‘I love you,’ placed over a black and purple corded bracelet with a white lily.

“For Tara,” the other boy smiles sheepishly. “And I couldn’t think of a way to tell you that didn’t make me cringe, so somehow a note seemed better.”

Theo puts the bracelet on, leaning in to brush their noses together, “I love it, thank you.” Looking into gorgeous amber eyes he says, “and I love you, too.”

[tvandenneagram]

Teen Wolf: Stiles Stilinski - Type 6w7

Stiles is anxious, energetic, loyal and caring. Stiles is a great friend to Scott and always wants to keep everyone safe. Stiles is also a very compassionate and helpful person to all of his friends.

At his best, Stiles is very loyal, compassionate and helpful to his loved ones. Stiles always has the best intentions and tries his best to be good.

At his worst, Stiles can be aggressive and mean when he feels threatened or is overwhelmed. Stiles can also be a bit overbearing and can snoop on people.

Stiles has always been really good at picking up on clues and finding the answers to problems. For example, he is the one who realises Scott is a werewolf because he had a strong need to figure it out. He’s also a very important member of the team and often gives Scott advice on to how to handle situations.

Stiles is shown to have a lot of anxiety and can become overwhelmed by his emotions. When he becomes overwhelmed, he can have a tendency to lash out at people close to him. Stiles is also very slow to trust people and is very suspicious of new people, as we see with his reactions to Derek. At first, he is not sure if Derek can be trusted, but after Derek proves he is on their side, he treats him like family.

Stiles is extremely loyal to his loved ones, as we see in his friendship with Scott and relationship with Lydia. Stiles has always been there for Scott, and puts himself in danger and in scary situations to help Scott. Stiles has always loved Lydia and never stopped, despite both of them being in relationships with other people. Due to this, Stiles wants to protect her and tries very hard to help her, even when she seemed to have no interest in him. 

Stiles shows his wing 7 as he is more energetic and expressive than a 6w5. 

Tri-type: 6w7 - 9w1 - 2w3

Some quotes to describe Stiles’ motivations

“You know, sometimes I really begin to question this ‘friendship’”

“Chaos has come again.”

“Scott, you can't transform, Allison is seeing her dead aunt and I'm flat out losing my mind. We can't do this.”

“We're supposed to take care of each other.”

Scott: “Why can't you trust anyone?” Stiles: “Because you trust everyone!”