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24stiles920 · 6 years

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Insatiable

Teen Wolf Rewrite

Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Warnings: Ages 16+, swearing, violence, character death, nonconsensual touching,

Words: 6635

A/N: I always ball like a little baby when watching this episode. Please reblog so that others can enjoy my content. Until next time. Xx.

Masterlist located in bio!

3RD Person

A bright light shined into Stiles’ eye, moving side-to-side as Melissa checked to see if his pupils were dilating correctly. Stiles pensively stared at the ceiling over Scott’s bed as she clicked the power button on the penlight and set it down on the bedside table. Hearing Melissa’s shaky exhale, Stiles looked at her to see if anything was wrong.

He tapped his fingers anxiously against his stomach as Melissa looked at him with worried eyes. She reached up and paused, hesitating to take his pulse. Stiles pressed his lips together in understanding and raised his wrist, offering it to his best friend’s mother.

The exam was tedious, but unfortunately necessary. Stiles just wanted to get it all over with—the exam and confronting the Oni. He wanted to see if he was the one controlling his body and not the Nogitsune. The quicker it was done, the sooner they could start looking for Y/N.

Melissa took Stiles’ wrist and checked his pulse, glancing at her wristwatch at the same time. After a minute, she carefully released Stiles’ wrist and set it back on his stomach.

“Well,” she said quietly. “Medically, you seem okay. You’re definitely a real person.”

“Okay, so I’m real, but am I really me?” Stiles asked softly, glancing at Melissa and nervously exhaling through his nose.

Scott and Lydia walked into Scott’s bedroom then, causing Stiles to sit up. He looked at them expectantly.

“Is she here?” He asked them.

Scott nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Stiles said determinately. “Let’s do this.”

Melissa, Scott, and Lydia all exchanged loaded looks, showing their hesitation. Stiles caught it and shook his head. “Guys, we have to do this.”

Scott reluctantly nodded and walked over to the bed, helping Stiles into a standing position. Too weak to walk on his own, Stiles stumbled downstairs, his arm over Scott’s shoulder and half his weight leaning against the alpha werewolf. Melissa and Lydia followed after them, entering the living room.

Mrs. Yukimura stood at the other side of the living room, staring intently at Stiles, her hands shoved into the pockets of her black trench coat. Scott, Stiles, Lydia, and Melissa paused, all of them looking apprehensive.

“Do you recognize me, hmm?” Mrs. Yukimura asked Stiles.

Stiles nodded and pulled away from Scott’s grasp. He started forward toward Mrs. Yukimura but paused when the front door opened and slammed shut. Kira ran into the living room, looking frantic.

“Stop!” She begged, looking around worriedly.

“It’s okay,” Stiles assured her, stepping closer. “I’m the one who asked her to come.”

“You’re the one who’s going to get stabbed with swords,” Kira retorted, eyes wide. She looked at her mother. “Mom, don’t do this to him.”

“It’s already done,” Mrs. Yukimura stated, looking behind Stiles and at the figure that appeared from the shadows.

Stiles followed her gaze and saw an Oni standing behind him, looking at him menacingly. Melissa’s gasp alerted him to the fact that another Oni appeared, this time right by his side.

Before Stiles could even move, one of the Oni grabbed him, holding his arms back and making sure that he wouldn’t move. The other Oni stepped forward in front of Stiles and grabbed his ear. Stiles’ breaths were shaky as he looked into the Oni’s lightning-bug eyes.

There was a burning sensation from behind his ear and he felt his knees go weak. He collapsed as the two Oni disappeared back into the shadows.

“Look behind his ear,” Mrs. Yukimura prompted her daughter.

Kira nodded and she, along with Scott, Lydia, and Melissa, rushed to Stiles and knelt on the floor around him. Scott grabbed Stiles’ shoulders and turned him some, checking the pale skin behind his ear.

“It worked,” Scott sighed in relief, studying the dark backward five that represented that Stiles was himself.

“So, I’m actually me?” Stiles asked Mrs. Yukimura, grabbing Scott’s awaiting hand, getting to his feet.

“More you than the Nogitsune,” Mrs. Yukimura confirmed with a slight nod.

Stiles inhaled deeply, a small part of his worries going away. The rest of them stayed at the forefront of his mind. There was the fact that the Nogitsune was still out there, using his body as a vessel and of course the fact that Y/N was with him.

Stiles had seen the Nogitsune’s little fascination with Y/N and he really didn’t like it. It was dangerous for Y/N to be alone with him—who knows what the Nogitsune would do? Stiles was worried about the safety of his soulmate, both physically and mentally.

“Can the Oni find him?” Stiles asked through gritted teeth, a small bit of anger blossoming in his chest.

“Tomorrow night,” Mrs. Yukimura told him, looking out the window. “It’s too close to dawn now.”

Stiles clenched his jaw angrily—that wasn’t good enough. Y/N was out there with the Nogitsune and there wouldn’t be a chance to kill him until the sun set later in the day? There was too much time before then. Anything could’ve happened to Y/N in that amount of time.

“Can they kill him?” Stiles asked, his voice tight with fury.

“It depends on how strong he is.”

“Okay, but what about Y/N?” Lydia spoke up, her eyebrows furrowed. “Why would he take her?”

“He could have taken her for an advantage,” Mrs. Yukimura suggested.

“You mean her powers?” Scott wondered.

Mrs. Yukimura nodded. “The power of a Scryer-banshee.”

Y/N

Another scream erupted the stillness of the air around me, making me wince and look around. The tunnel I was hidden in was dark, damp, and smelt horrible, but it wasn’t those things that made it unbearable. It was the screams that haunted me, echoing through my head.

There were so many of them—calling out for mercy, grunts of pain, final cries before death. It was driving me crazy, making my chest ache sharply and a dull headache begin at my temples. Something horrible had to have taken place in these tunnels—so much death and pain. How else would I be able to hear the voices?

There had to be a reason why the Nogitsune had taken me to the old Internment camp that Mrs. Yukimura used to live in. Maybe he was feeling sentimental about the good old days. Either way, I wasn’t impressed and I was being to get worried.

I sighed and stood up, leaning my head against the damp concrete wall, trying to ignore all the noises around me. To a normal human, I’m sure they wouldn’t hear anything but the slight dripping of water. But I wasn’t normal. Not by a long shot.

“Can you hear them, sweetheart?”

I jumped and turned toward the sound of Stiles’ voice, low and dark and so much different than what he usually sounded like. The Nogitsune stood a couple of feet away from me. His hands were clasped behind his back and his dark eyes were glittering with amusement as he looked down at me, a hint of a grin on his face.

“Louder than usual, isn’t it?” He continued casually, stepping closer to me.

I nodded shakily, gulping as I remembered what he did the last time I had disobeyed him. I could almost feel the sharp sting of the back of his hand against my cheek, even though it had been hours since he had slapped me.

I had been stupid and tried to contact Scott—he caught me and destroyed my phone with a clench of his fist. And then, next thing I knew, my head had snapped to the side from the force of his blow.

“Well, that’s because a lot of bad things happened down here,” The Nogitsune said, looking around with a hint of nostalgia present on his face.

His head abruptly snapped back to me, an unusual look on his face. Before I could even move, he had grabbed the tops of my arms, yanking my body to him.

“Stop,” I protested quietly, biting my lip so hard that I could taste blood.

“Shh,” He cooed, brushing a lock of wayward hair from my face. “You’re going to be a good girl, for me, aren’t you, Y/N?”

“Please, stop,” I begged, trying to pull away from me.

“You won’t want me to stop,” He said softly with a hint of menace. “Oh, you’ll want me to keep going. You’ll beg, just like you do with Stiles,” he laughed and smirked at my horrified face. “Like I said, sweetheart, we’re going to have so much fun together.”

The Nogitsune gripped my chin tightly and forced his lips upon mine, almost bruising the soft skin with his intensity. I let out a shriek, the sound muffled against his lips, bringing my hands up and pushing against his chest to try to get him off of me.

It was wrong—it was so wrong to have this monster kissing me. Even if it was Stiles’ body, this was not Stiles. And even if I hadn’t known that it wasn’t Stiles beforehand, I would tell by the way his mouth pressed against mine. He was sadistic with his movements—nipping sharply at my soft skin, forcing me against him, squeezing my arms so tight I was sure there would be bruises in the shape of his hands.

I cried out, tears falling from my eyes as he continued his assault. And that’s when I heard it.

Stiles.

I gasped at the quiet voice that practically whispered my soulmate’s name in my ear. It wasn’t Stiles’ voice, but a different one altogether. The voice was full of sorrow and foreboding and I instantly understood why I was hearing Stiles’ name.

Stiles was dying.

I hadn’t even realized that the Nogitsune had pulled away from me, studying my face with a curious glint in his eyes. “What are the voices telling you?” He asked gruffly.

I bit my swollen bottom lip and looked at him blankly, my thoughts running a hundred miles in my head. Despair crashed over me as I realized that there wasn’t anything I could do—I couldn’t get to Stiles right now and I sure as hell couldn’t keep him from dying.

More tears dripped down my cheeks as I came to a realization: I would never see Stiles again.

“Are they saying that Stiles is dying?” The Nogitsune asked knowingly. “Because he is, you know,” He grinned sadistically. “He’s dying.”

I gritted my teeth and looked at him angrily. “Then what do you need me for?” I spat. “You think I can tell you something?”

The Nogitsune laughed darkly, his eyes glinting furiously. “Oh, I know you can, sweetheart,” he said, a hard edge to his voice. He raised his hand and caressed my bruised cheek with his long index finger.

“I’m not telling you anything,” I snapped, pushing against his chest once more.

To my surprise, he let me go. I turned around frantically and took off running down the tunnel. I could hear the Nogitsune’s loud and cruel laughter and when I looked back, I saw him casually following me.

I sped up and turned a corner, only to stop when I ran into an iron gate. I shook it desperately, trying to make it unlock so I could have some space between me and the Nogitsune. My magic would have been so useful right now—if I still had it.

“You won’t have to tell me anything, sweetheart,” I could feel the Nogitsune’s breath against the back of my neck. “You’ll be screaming.”

3RD Person

Stiles shivered in his black jacket as he and Scott walked through the police station in search of his father. He had wanted to go to his father immediately after being checked by the Oni, not only because he wanted to make sure his father knew he was okay, but because he and Scott had to tell Noah about the fact that the Nogitsune had taken Y/N.

Both of the boys made their way to Noah’s office; his door was open and he was standing by his desk, mumbling about having to find his keys. Stiles smiled slightly, remembering all the times his dad would lose his keys, only to find them in his empty coffee cup.

“In your coffee cup,” Stiles spoke up. At the sound of his son’s voice, Noah quickly turned around, eyes wide. Stiles pointed to the coffee cup at the edge of Noah’s desk. “You always drop them in your empty cup.”

Noah eyed Stiles suspiciously and glanced at Scott. Scott nodded at his best friend’s father in assurance, telling him that the Nogitsune was gone from Stiles’ body. Noah rushed over to Stiles and grabbed him into a tight hug and both of the Stilinski men chuckled as they almost fell over.

“Hey, Dad,” Stiles greeted, patting Noah’s back.

Noah and Stiles separated from their hug and turned to look at Scott, who had walked further into Noah’s office.

“Is it over?” Noah asked the two best friends.

Scott sighed and looked down at the empty coffee cup on Noah’s desk. He reached down and plucked his set of keys from the cup before answering, “Not yet.”

Noah furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Stiles and Scott explained what had been going on all day; about Lydia, Aiden, and Y/N finding Stiles’ body, Scott and Y/N going into Stiles’ mind and exorcising the Nogitsune from him, and how the Nogitsune had taken Y/N and they currently didn’t know where she was.

As they were talking, Noah’s face contorted into an expression that was both pained and angry. He cursed lowly and started toward the door, ready to tell Parrish to get looking for Y/N. As he touched the doorknob, Scott’s phone buzzed with a text message.

“Wait!” Scott said, his eyes widening as he read the message from Lydia. “Maybe you should look for Lydia, too.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles wondered, confused.

“She sent me a text message,” Scott answered, his heart pounding rapidly. “It says, ‘I found Y/N. Don’t look for us.’”

Stiles let out an aggravated sigh. He was concerned for Lydia, but he didn’t understand why she wouldn’t let them know where Y/N was. Why couldn’t she just tell them so they could go and rescue Y/N—that way Lydia didn’t even need to be missing.

Noah left the office to talk to Parrish and only came back after ten minutes.

“We have two APBs out for Lydia and Y/N,” He told his son and Scott. “Every unit on the road is looking for them.”

“Isn’t there anything else that we could do?” Scott wondered nervously.

“At this hour? No, not really,” Noah replied reluctantly.

“He took them for a reason, Dad,” Stiles informed his father. “Look, if we can figure out the why then we’ll figure out the where.”

“Okay,” Noah looked behind him to see if Parrish was listening to their conversation. “What would a Nogitsune need with two Banshees?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles shook his head, clueless. “They’re both pretty good at finding dead bodies and Y/N is a Scryer, too, right? So maybe he needs to find a dead body or have Y/N keep an eye on something…”

Scott cocked his head thoughtfully at Stiles’ suggestion.

“Scott,” Noah said, catching the alpha’s attention. “You know more about this than all of us.”

“Me?” Scott said in disbelief.

“You said you got the whole story from Noshiko,” Noah reminded him.

“Yeah, but that happened during World War II,” Scott said. “Like seventy years ago.”

Stiles pursed his lips thoughtfully as he stared blankly ahead of him. His father’s words reminded him of his time in Eichen House, when he overheard Meredith talking to herself on the phone, something about knowing the whole story.

“Wait,” He said, interrupting Noah and Scott’s conversation. “What did you say?”

“Noshiko told me about the internment camp—”

“No,” Stiles cut off Scott. “Before that. You said the whole story.”

“Yeah,” Scott nodded. “What is it?”

“There’s a girl at Eichen House,” Stiles informed Scott and Noah. “Her name’s Meredith. I think she might be able to help.”

Noah quickly told Parrish to call Eichen House and while the deputy talked to the receptionist of the mental institution, Noah, Scott, and Stiles waited anxiously. A couple of moments later, Parrish walked into the office.

“Sheriff, Meredith Walker,” Parrish informed the group hovering around Noah’s desk.

“She’s still there?” Noah wondered.

“Yeah, but they moved her to the Closed Unit,” Parrish explained.

“Why?”

“They said behavioral issues,” Parrish answered Stiles.

“What issues?” Stiles asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“She wouldn’t stop screaming.”

Scott and Stiles looked at each other, thinking the same thing: this had to be connected.

Stiles gasped heavily as he woke from his nap, standing up from his place on Scott’s couch. His body ached horribly and he stumbled a few steps forward, exhausted. Scott, hearing Stiles from the kitchen, rushed toward his best friend and grabbed his arms, steadying him.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked Stiles urgently.

“What happened?” Stiles asked breathlessly. “How long was I out?”

“Just a couple hours,” Scott answered him. He gestured toward the couch and added, “You should sit down.”

Stiles shook his head and took a deep breath. “Where’s my Dad?”

“He’s at Eichen House, questioning everyone and looking for Meredith,” Scott reminded Stiles. “I promised him I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.”

“Okay,” Stiles nodded, still gasping for breath. “What about the others?”

“Allison, Isaac, the Twins, and Derek are all looking for Lydia and Y/N,” Scott replied, trying to calm his best friend down.

Stiles shook his head frantically. “It’s starting to feel like we’re waiting for a ransom call,” He admitted shakily. “Scott, what if—”

“We’ll find Y/N and Lydia,” Scott assured Stiles.

Stiles inhaled deeply and shivered, once again freezing. He looked around and grabbed his black jacket, shrugging it on with quick and jerky movements.

“Are you all right?” Scott wondered, looking at Stiles closely.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded as he fixed his jacket collar, his voice shaky from the chills racking his body. “I don’t know why I just can’t seem to get w-warm.”

“Maybe you should sit down and take it easy,” Scott suggested, grabbing Stiles’ hand. Black veins appeared on his hand as he subconsciously took some of Stiles’ pain. He looked at his best friend with wide eyes. “You’re in pain.”

“It’s not that bad,” Stiles told Scott, the lie slipping easily from his tongue. “Just more like a dull ache.”

“Where?”

“Sort of everywhere,” Stiles reluctantly answered.

Scott narrowed his eyes and grabbed Stiles’ hand, gasping at the chilly feel of his skin. Stiles ripped his hand from Scott’s and sat down on the couch, covering his mouth with his hands.

“Dude, you’re freezing,” Scott pointed out. When Stiles didn’t answer, Scott crouched down in front of him, looking at him with serious eyes. “Tell me the truth. How much does it really hurt?”

Stiles shook his head, not wanting Scott to worry about him. They needed to project all of their focus on finding Y/N and Lydia…the main goal was to find them.

Scott’s phone vibrated in his pocket before he had the chance to bug Stiles further. He quickly grabbed it and looked at the Caller ID. “It’s Kira,” he told Stiles. Stiles gestured for Scott to take the call. “Hey, what’s up?”

“She’s here. In Coach’s class,” Kira answered. “And you need to get here now too. Like, right now.”

Y/N

“Look who’s here, sweetheart,” The Nogitsune called from behind me, catching my attention.

I turned to see what he was talking about and gasped when I saw Lydia’s tear-streaked face as she was shoved toward me by the Nogitsune.

“Lydia!” I breathed as she pulled me into a tight hug. “Lydia, what are you doing here?”

“I-I just—I knew where you were,” She explained quickly. “And I have a bad, bad feeling, Y/N. Do you feel it too?”

“Yeah,” I nodded gravely, thinking back to all the whispers I’ve been hearing. “Someone is—”

“All right, your reunion is over,” The Nogitsune interrupted me. He ripped Lydia away from me and pushed me back away from the gate that I had been standing by.

“Stop,” Lydia warned him as he jerked the gate open with his supernatural strength and pushed her into the small, circular opening. “Don’t do this!”

“You know, I didn’t really have a need for you, Lydia,” The Nogitsune said conversationally as he locked the gate back up. “But I guess two Banshees are better than one.”

“They’ll find us,” Lydia warned the Nogitsune, grabbing the iron bars of the gate and pressing her face against them. “Our friends are going to find us.”

“You think so?” The Nogitsune asked casually. “I, myself, was kind of wondering what they’re doing right now. What useless lead they’re chasing. I wonder if maybe some of them have bigger problems to deal with right now.”

I bit my lip and turned away from him, slowly making my way down the stairs in front of me. There was another gate down there, leading to a room that was similar to the one that Lydia was being held in. I gripped at the bars of the gate and pushed slightly, groaning in frustration when it didn’t budge.

“Are they really spending every minute looking for you two?” The Nogitsune went on, and I was started to see that he had followed me, sitting at the top of the stairs, looking at me with an amused expression. “Or…are they waiting for nightfall? Focused on some hopeless gesture to pass the time?”

I inhaled deeply and tried not to give into the same thinking that the Nogitsune was talking about. I didn’t know what my friends were doing, but I knew that they were looking for me and Lydia…It wasn’t in their nature to just leave us to die.

“What do you want?” I asked slowly, defeated. I turned around to look at him, my eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“More,” The Nogitsune said simply as he slowly raised from his seat on the top step.

“More what?” I wondered, eyeing him closely.

“The Trickster stories are all about food, sweetheart,” The Nogitsune started walking down the stairs, one by one, as though trying to taunt me with how slow he was going. “The Coyote, the Raven, the Fox. They’re all hungry.”

He paused for a second and I stared at him, wondering what he was going to say. It couldn’t be good, whatever it was.

“I’m the same,” he continued, stopping a few feet away from me. “I just crave something a little different.”

I closed my eyes and felt tears slipping down my cheeks.

“I eat what you feel,” I could feel the Nogitsune’s hands grip my waist tightly. I stumbled slightly as he pulled me against his body. He glided his nose the length of my jaw and kissed my ear before whispering darkly, “And I’m insatiable.”

3RD Person

Stiles and Scott quickly found Kira and Coach Finstock and the four of them followed the orderly named Brunski, who was the orderly that was in charge of Stiles when he was in Eichen House. They ended up outside of the band room and watched as Brunski threatened Meredith with his taser. They slowly slipped into the room, and as Brunski raised the taser to hit Meredith with it, Coach rushed forward and grabbed the hand that Brunski held the device with.

“This school has a very strict no-bullying policy,” Coach said sternly before shoving the taser into Brunski’s neck.

Brunski grunted in pain and fell to the floor as Scott, Stiles, and Kira rushed over to Meredith. Brunski glared up at them, contorting his lips into a snarl.

“Well?” Coach said expectantly to Scott, Stiles, and Kira. “Get her out of here!”

Stiles reached forward and grabbed Meredith’s arm. He led her out of the music room with Scott and Kira following, leaving Coach alone to deal with Brunski. The four teenagers rushed to Stiles’ Jeep.

“I’ll call you,” Kira promised Scott as he, Stiles, and Meredith entered the Jeep. Scott nodded and Kira took off back to the school.

“Okay,” Stiles said, turning around in his seat to face Meredith. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Who’s Y/N?” Meredith asked, looking very confused.

Scott and Stiles turned to each other, pursing their lips in frustration.

“Let’s just go to my house,” Scott suggested. “We can talk there.”

Stiles nodded and started the Jeep. The ride to Scott’s house was silent and more than awkward. Scott and Stiles didn’t know Meredith at all, and they found her a bit weird if they were being honest.

The group of three got out of the Jeep after Stiles parked in front of Scott’s house, and rushed to the door, quickly entering the kitchen. Scott’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of his father and Isaac, who was sitting awkwardly at the kitchen table.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asked his father harshly.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Agent McCall replied calmly, looking at the three of them curiously.

“Free period,” Scott said.

“We’re doing group study,” Stiles added.

Agent McCall nodded, clearly not believing them. He pointed at Meredith and asked, “Who’s she?”

Stiles looked back and forth between Meredith and Agent McCall before breathing deeply and wrapping his arm around Meredith’s shoulders. “She’s my girlfriend,” He replied, wincing as he was fully aware that Agent McCall knew he was dating Y/N.

Meredith looked at him, disgruntled. “You’re not my type.”

“Well, obviously we have a lot to talk about,” Stiles sighed in exasperation. Agent McCall looked at him with a deadpan expression. “We should maybe take this upstairs.”

“He’s my type,” Meredith said, glancing at an unassuming Isaac. Everyone turned to Isaac with raised eyebrows.

“Okay,” Stiles scratched his cheek awkwardly. “Isaac, you can come too.”

Meredith shot Isaac a flirty grin as he stood up from his seat. Stiles, Meredith, and Isaac filed from the room and made their way upstairs to Scott’s bedroom. Stiles immediately sat Meredith down at the foot of Scott’s bed and stared at her expectantly.

“You don’t know where Y/N and Lydia are?” Stiles asked skeptically.

“Lydia?” Meredith perked up at the girl’s name. “You mean the red-haired girl.”

“Yes! Yes! Good, progress,” Stiles cheered softly, looking quickly at Isaac before facing Meredith again. “Now, all you got to do is tell us where she and Y/N are.”

“Okay,” Meredith nodded. “If they tell me.”

Stiles pursed his lips in surprise as Isaac raised his eyebrows.

“If they tell you?” Isaac repeated. Meredith nodded slightly. “Can you ask them?”

“I already did,” Meredith admitted with a smile.

“Perfect, perfect,” Stiles said, looking at Meredith curiously. “What did they say?”

“Lydia said…” Meredith paused and both boys leaned in closer. “That they don’t want to be found.”

Stiles sighed softly and tapped his clenched fists together, trying not to get aggravated at Meredith. “That’s good too,” he said. “Okay.”

Stiles looked at Isaac and gestured over to Scott’s bathroom with his head. The werewolf silently followed the human into the bathroom and kept the door open so that they could make sure Meredith didn’t run away.

“Okay, let’s just, rough her up a bit,” Isaac quietly suggested to Stiles.

“No,” Stiles said immediately.

“I’m just saying.”

“Isaac,” Stiles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’re not going to torture her.”

“I meant scare her,” Isaac clarified in a whisper.

“We’re not going to psychologically torture her either,” Stiles snapped.

“Fine,” Isaac huffed, looking at Meredith thoughtfully. “Okay, how about this? You said she hears things, right?”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded.

“Doesn’t that mean she’s like Lydia and Y/N?” Isaac said. “A banshee?”

Stiles tilted his head and shrugged, nodding at Isaac. “It’s worth a shot.”

The two boys wandered back into Scott’s room and stood before Meredith. Stiles crouched down as Isaac bent over, placing his hands on his knees.

“Okay, Meredith, we’re gonna try something,” Stiles said to the girl in front of him. She nodded. “Okay, just try to focus on the sounds around you.”

“On what you’re hearing,” Isaac added.

“Just focus on the silence,” Stiles said sternly.

“Listen to the silence,” Isaac said, staring intently at Meredith.

“Focusing on the silence…” Stiles repeated his earlier words.

“Listening to the—"

“Okay, will you just let me handle this, Isaac? Please,” Stiles interrupted the werewolf, looking annoyed. “I just—I have more experience with banshees.”

Isaac cocked his head and retorted, “Yeah, and mental patients.”

Stiles pressed his lips together and looked at Isaac, sending daggers at the werewolf with his eyes. Before he could say anything, however, Meredith spoke up.

“Is anyone going to get that?” She asked, looking at both boys with narrowed eyes.

“Get what?” Stiles asked hesitantly.

“The phone.”

“What phone?” Stiles wondered, not understanding what Meredith meant.

Isaac perked up in realization and tapped Stiles’ shoulders. “The phone,” he said, while Meredith gestured toward Stiles’ pocket.

Stiles glanced at Meredith, who was still pointing at his pocket with an expectant expression on her face.

“Oh, the phone,” He said, pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket. “My phone? Yes,” He put the phone to his ear and kept his eyes on Meredith through his charade. “Hello? Yes, she’s actually sitting right here,” Stiles pulled the phone away from his ear and held it out toward Meredith. “It’s for you.”

Meredith gently took the phone and held it up to her left ear. She listened patiently for a couple of seconds before nodding and handing the phone back to Stiles. Stiles took the phone and stared at Meredith, waiting for an answer.

“They say Coup de foudre,” Meredith told the boys.

“Coup de what?” Stiles tried to reenact her pronunciation. He glanced at Isaac. “Is that Spanish?”

Isaac shook his head, having no idea, and glanced at Meredith.

“French,” Scott’s voice startled Isaac, Stiles, and Meredith. They all turned to see Scott standing in his doorway. “It’s French. Come on, we have to go.”

After dropping Meredith off with Stiles’ dad, Scott called Allison and told her that they knew where Lydia and Y/N were. He asked her to pick up Kira and meet them at the Oak Creek internment camp where Noshiko Yukimura was placed all those years ago. Stiles, Scott, and Isaac left the police station and got into the Jeep. Stiles pressed on the gas and started driving to the camp that was just outside of Beacon Hills.

Scott let out a deep sigh, catching Stiles’ attention. Stiles quickly looked over at his best friend and saw that Scott was staring out the windshield, looking somber and thoughtful.

“Hey, are you okay?” Stiles asked Scott.

“Yeah,” Scott nodded, looking over at Stiles. “Yeah, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“All right, I’m gonna say it,” Isaac spoke up from the backseat. “Stiles, you look like you’re dying.”

Scott looked back at Isaac in disbelief, but Isaac kept speaking.

“You’re pale, thin, and you look like you’re getting worse,” he said unapologetically. “And we’re all sitting here thinking it. When we find the other you, is he gonna look like he’s getting better?”

“What happens if he gets hurt?” Scott added curiously, looking at Stiles for an answer.

“You mean if he dies, do I die?” Stiles said before shrugging. “I don’t care. Just so long as no else dies because of me.”

“Stiles—”

“I remember everything I did, Scott,” Stiles cut Scott off. “I remember pushing that sword into you. I remember stomping on and breaking Y/N’s wrist.”

“It wasn’t you,” Scott objected.

“Yeah, but I remember it,” Stiles countered. He glanced at Scott and then at Isaac before looking back at the road. “You guys gotta promise me. You can’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.”

Scott and Isaac exchanged looks—Scott nodded at Stiles, but he didn’t agree with what his best friend was saying. Stiles was one of the most important people in his life—his brother—and he wasn’t going to let him die.

A few minutes later, Stiles pulled up right to the gates of Oak Creek, parking behind Allison’s car. Isaac, Scott, and Stiles jumped out of the vehicle and joined Allison and Kira next to the gates. Isaac immediately walked over and stood by Allison while Kira scooted closer to Scott.

The group of supernatural teenagers looked at each other, anxiety present in all of their faces. Stiles looked up at the Oak Creek sign and grimaced, hoping that they’d all make it out alive.

Scott took a deep breath, looked around at his friends, and spoke, giving them a pep talk. “We’ve done this before, guys,” he reminded them. “A couple weeks ago we were standing around just like this and we saved Malia, remember? That was a total stranger. This is Y/N and Lydia.”

“I’m here to save my best friends,” Allison spoke strongly and determinately.

“I came to save mine,” Scott glanced at Stiles.

“I just didn’t feel like doing any homework,” Isaac added with a shrug before he casually walked through the camp’s gates.

Y/N

The Nogitsune let Lydia out of her prison as the sun went down, letting both of us huddle together nervously. The bad feeling that I had earlier wasn’t going away—if my friends came to save us, one of them would die…I just didn’t know who.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” Lydia said suddenly, looking at the Nogitsune that stood casually by my side. “You know they’re coming. You know they’re going to kill you.”

The Nogitsune smirked, though his eyes were annoyed as he glanced at Lydia. “Well, that’s exactly why I’m keeping you two so close.”

He grabbed the gate from behind us and tore it open before shoving us into the circular, stone-walled room. After the Nogitsune entered with us, he closed the gate forcefully and looked around the room.

I watched him closely; he looked a little nervous, which was a big change from his usual confident attitude. A low whisper flitted through my brain and the voice sounded a lot like Scott’s.

“They’re here,” I breathed before looking at the Nogitsune with hard eyes. “And Lydia and I don’t need to scream to know that they’re going to kill you.”

“Good,” The Nogitsune said as he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out what looked to be the knife Mrs. Yukimura said was her last tail that brought the Oni. “That’s exactly why I brought you, sweetheart. I needed to know when they’d be close enough. When my own death was closing in.”

The Nogitsune looked away from me as the rattling noise that usually came with the Oni echoed around the circular room. Glancing around, I noticed five Oni surrounding me, Lydia, and the Nogitsune. Lydia grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the Nogitsune, setting us behind two of the Oni.

“’Cause only when they’re close, can I do this…” The Nogitsune held up the knife and, just as the Oni approached him with their swords out, he snapped it in half.

The Oni disappeared and so did the Nogitsune, leaving Lydia and I alone.

“What just happened?” I asked Lydia breathlessly.

“I don’t know,” She replied, her voice shaky. “But it can’t be good.”

I suddenly heard loud footsteps running toward us. Lydia and I exchanged a horrified look and rushed to the gate as Stiles and Scott appeared.

“Y/N, Lydia?” Scott said, shaking the gate. “Are you guys all right?”

“No, no, no, no,” I whimpered, my eyes wide. “Why are you here?”

“Y/N, we’re here for you,” Stiles told me as Scott slowly opened the gate.

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” Lydia snapped from beside me. She looked at Scott. “You didn’t get my message?”

“Lydia, what’s happening?” Scott asked her gently.

“Who else is here?” I asked. When Scott and Stiles didn’t answer, I spoke louder. “Who came with you? Who else is here?”

“We have to go,” Lydia urged strongly. “We have to go, now!”

Scott obviously recognized why we were so being so pushy. He turned around and started running as fast as he could down the dark tunnel. Lydia, Stiles, and I followed as fast as we could.

Halfway through the tunnel, I slipped and fell, landing on the wet floor with a loud thump. Stiles and Lydia instantly turned back.

“Lydia, go!” Stiles waved her away urgently. “I’ve got her. Go!”

Lydia nodded and gave me one last look before taking off again. As Stiles approached me, my eyesight went blurry until I was no longer in the tunnel with Stiles at all.

One of the Oni whipped his sword around at Isaac, aiming to injure the beta werewolf. Isaac jerked back, away from the sword and threw his arm forward, trying to stab the Oni with his claws. The Oni reached for Isaac and pushed at his chest, making him fall against a pile of wooden boxes.

The Oni went to whack Isaac with his sword and was about to succeed, when Allison rushed forward and held up her bow, connecting it with the sword and preventing Isaac from getting injured. Allison turned the bow to the side, bringing the Oni’s sword with it, and pushed at the Oni, making it fall back.

Isaac took the opportunity to spin away from his position, while Allison loaded another arrow into her bow and aimed at another Oni.

“How do we stop them?” Isaac called out to Noshiko, who was standing to the side, looking horrified.

“You can’t!” Noshiko shouted and just as she finished speaking, one of the Oni stepped forward and slashed Isaac’s stomach open.

Allison kept shooting arrows at the Oni as two of them joined up with the one slashing Isaac into a bloody mess. They threw their swords out, cutting up Isaac’s legs, his chest, and his torso.

Isaac fell back, and Allison reached behind her and grabbed the last arrow she had. She set it up in her bow and aimed toward the Oni that was about to deal Isaac with a fatal blow. As Isaac dropped to his knees, unable to fight back anymore, Allison let the arrow fly.

The arrow lodged itself into the Oni’s chest; the Oni dropped its sword and grabbed its chest, where bright yellow light was coming out of the hole where the arrow was located. With a loud boom, the Oni exploded, shocking everyone—and the Oni—around them.

Allison let out a small, thankful smile, happy that she had killed one of the Oni, which she didn’t think was possible. A sharp pain shot through her stomach, then, and she looked, wide-eyed, over at the Oni who had pushed a sword through her torso.

“ALLISON!”

I gasped as Lydia’s loud scream tore me away from my vision. Tears blurred my eyesight and I let out a loud scream of my own, unable to help myself.

“No, no, no,” I sobbed hoarsely as devastation filled my body and made my chest ache. “No, Allison!”

Loud, body-racking cries escaped from my throat as a horrible feeling encompassed me. It was cold and horrible; it felt like death.

It was undeniable, however much I wanted it not to be true.

Allison Argent was dead.

Tags:

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#stiles x reader #teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #stiles x oc #oc x stiles #reader x stiles #stiles series #stiles stilinski series #soulmate au #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles fanfiction #dylan o'brien

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seanchaidh7 · 6 years

Text

Woodstock 1969

Happy Sterek Valentines Day @jmeelee ! For @sterek-events2019 gift exchange

I hope you like your gift, bear in mind I am out of practice when it comes writing and am mostly just an artist but I wanted to include a bit of background!!!

No matter what happened, at least he had met him. It was that thought that kept him going. The war in Vietnam raged on and on, taking so many young lives needlessly. Stiles had hesitated applying for college and was drafted six months out of high school while he had been working to save up for tuition.

While Laura was in college upstate, Derek was the primary guardian for Cora after the loss of their family years before; and it was this fact alone that kept him off the list. When he told Stiles that the night they met, the night before he shipped out he had smiled so brightly that it almost helped ease the crush of despair at meeting his soul mate 15 hours before he was set to ship out to war.

Stiles was relieved, happy to not be meeting Derek while on tour; a horror story that too many young people had faced in the recent years. They spent every second together, trying to soak up as much as they could; learn everything, imprint the memory of this moment. The younger man was blunt, and smart as a whip. He knew his chances of not coming home, asked that Derek help his dad pack up his things if he didn’t make it back; make it as easy on him as he could. The thought made a rage burn so deeply inside Derek for a country that would allow this that sometimes he couldn’t breathe.

364 days. The memory of their stolen few hours together carried Derek through it. Through protests, headlines, over 300 letters addressed to a Miecyslaw that Stiles assured him would arrive because the likelihood of him being mistaken for someone else on that side of the world was a million to one. The hope of what may come altered Derek in profound ways, to strive to be better; to move away from the place where the memories of what they had lost were a constant reminder and had smothered them for too long. They moved closer to Laura, never planning to stay but finding it impossible to leave Beacon Hills on their drive through to San Francisco; the sheriff finding solace in having a small tether to his son; the town welcoming them in like they had always been a part of them.

The letters pulled Stiles through. Through the rain and the blood and the constant nagging terror of what his world now looked like. He kept the best ones close to his heart, right where he knew his name blackened the skin on his soulmate. It felt like a hundred years had rolled by as he watched his fellow soldiers fall like the trees in a storm, one by one. Stiles clung to the flashes of the hours spent together in Derek’s little loft, the record player scratching purple haze in the background; out on the balcony sitting so close together it was like they were trying to meld into one person. Even though soulmates weren't always destined to fall in love it was better described as a perfect counterpoint or a balance sometimes better suited as a friendship or companion; he’d known from the moment he set eyes on Derek Hale that he would marry that man at his first opportunity. The person he’d knocked into and spilt his beer all over the night before he left LA. He clung to that memory with every shred of hope in his veins and prayed he could survive this and remain the person that he had been in those fateful hours.

Stiles got shot on a Tuesday in March. Caught twice in the arm and chest as he finished his patrol. As he lay in the mud he remembered the feel of Derek’s bedspread under his fingers, the other mans laugh warming him all the way through; his hand brushed across the letters down the curve of his neck. Such terrible timing.

Derek found out in May, a letter having arrived on the door of the sheriff early that morning. It was perfunctory, stating the barest details like a hastily written grocery list. He drove across town to read it himself, needing to see it. Wondering how he couldn’t have felt it that day, wondering so much of how it happened and feeling so helpless that it took all he had in him not to break.

They didn’t get him back until July, each day so heavy that they were all so relieved to have each other. To have built a connection around a boy who was so special. Laura met them at the airport, her hands clutching Derek’s and John’s on either side; Cora with her arm around Derek’s waist anchoring him. The light in his eyes had gone, replaced with a worried smile that pressed terrified words into Derek’s neck that he was broken; that he wasn’t good enough to be loved anymore, that he had done and seen terrible things.

Derek had rebuilt his life from the ashes of the one before it. He had dragged himself out of bed and pushed himself to the point of agony to shake himself free of the monsters in his past and he would walk Stiles through his. This more than anything cemented the bond between them, proving he wasn’t just a name on a boy’s pulse but the true balance and anchor to him. Deserving of him.

A year later they got to see Jimi Hendrix’s play live, singing purple haze just like that first night in Derek’s loft where they clung to every word and moment to make them last a little bit longer. Both of the having grown together, healing each other with a love that for them was stronger than death. They were where they were meant to be. Stiles laughing that Derek was such a hippie, setting flowers in his hair; kissing the words off his lips whispering “excuse me while I kiss the sky.”

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #sterek #art #drawing #dylan o'brien #derek hale #fan art #tyler hoechlin #illustration #mieczyslaw stilinski #graphic art #sterek-events 2019 #genre: soulmate au #soulmate #soulmarks #woodstock #idontknowhowtoreadmore

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mf-despair-queen · 6 years

Text

Jigsaw Pieces - Chapter 4 - Mitch Rapp

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Mitch Rapp/Reader

Word Count: 4,715

Summary: Mitch has changed since the in Ibiza. After some fearful words, Mitch disappears without notice. She’s determined to find him - no matter the cost.

Warnings: None Really?

Notes: JUST LET ME POST ALREADY TUMBLR. JFC

Eighteen Months Later…

Mitch changed.

After spending countless weeks in the hospital for his injuries, he was forced to undergo physical and mental rehabilitation. You couldn’t count how many times the doctors had called because he had awoken in the middle of the night screaming at the tops of his lungs from the trauma on the beach. You couldn’t count the number of times you saw him collapse from pain, the wound in his leg throbbing with unyielding agony. You couldn’t count the number of times you stood outside his hospital room, staring through the window at his broken figure, fingers running over the scar on his shoulder.

Yet, he never said a word of it to you. Not once did Mitch say anything about his pain or his distress, keeping a cold persona that made your skin crawl and your wrist ache.

After graduating with your masters, you moved down to Rhode Island with Mitch, despite his silent protests. He never actively pushed you away, but you couldn’t help feeling that he was trying to distance himself from you. Writing it off as part of his painful loss, you stayed with him, caring for him just as you always had.

Every night, you would show up at his apartment door, letting yourself in with the spare key he never complained that you had. He would be shirtless at his computer or in his bed, reading some book in which you weren’t sure the contents were. Every once in a while, you would find him knee deep in exercising, his fists pounding away at the punching bag hung up from his roof. His eyes, dark and mysterious, would glance up at you, never truly acknowledging your presence in his messy home. He would follow your form across the apartment until you found the kitchen, placing the groceries you got for him in his fridge, making dinner for the two of you.

He would grace you long enough to sit at the table for an awkward, silent meal, words rarely being shared. The clink of silverware against the plates filled the apartment, sometimes Mitch being preoccupied with a book. He never gazed at you for long, your eyes lefts to linger on his form, taking in the changes he had undergone in a year and a half.

His hair had grown out, the once shorted chocolate locks having grown out to something that was reminiscent of his high school days. The ends curled towards the roof unless they were wet with sweat or a shower. His luscious locks had lost some of its sheen, mirroring his depressed form. You only knew that it was the same fluffy locks he always had because he would sometimes fall asleep after dinner and you would sit with him, running your hands through his hair. It seemed to calm him, a wave of relaxation washing over you almost like you were able to feel his aura seeping through your system.

To add to the longer hair, the man had grown out his beard considerably. It felt like the first true sign that he was a man now, no longer the teen you went to highschool with. A thick brush of hair covered his lip, chin and cheeks, hiding the constellation of marks that were spread across his jawline. It saddened you that they were invisible to the naked eye as the hair got longer. Recalling the nights you could just say next to each other talking, you had counted the number of marks and moles he had strewn across his fair skin countless times, memorizing them without realizing it. Though, staring at him now, his slender digits stroking the length of his beard, tugging at the end strands

His body had changed. The fact that he strolled around his apartment shirtless helped you to admire his newly improved physique. His arms had bulked up from incessant training, the same veins you were used to running alone paled skin. His pecs had tightened, showing off his collarbone more pronouncedly. His shoulders had broadened with his increased muscle tone, his sheer strength of will resting on them. The thing that made you frown the most was the star that glared across the room on his shoulder - from either side - from the bullet wound he incurred. It was the bitter reminder of what had happened; it was the imperfection that seemed to keep him going.

The cold man sat across from you, you heart breaking at the sight. You never stopped caring; you never stopped loving him. If anything, you cared for him more than ever. From the time you saw him lying in the bed, broken and lost, you wanted to be there for him. And over time, as you watched him recover - watching him grow strong physically and mentally - you couldn’t help but feel your rapid heartbeat pounding against your ribcage, a clammy hand placed over it when you were alone. Your body burned, yearning to touch him, hold him and tell him things would be ok. You wanted to feel loved, even if it was a simple friendship once more.

The burning intensity that spread up your arm, however, worried you.

An uncomfortable knot typically sat inside you, something unsettling egging at your insides. Your mind screamed that something wasn’t right - that something was off. But what it was, you couldn’t say for sure. The only sign your had was the constant sizzle the ran through your veins, resembling adrenaline and determination that didn’t feel like your own. The source: the puzzle piece. Everything seemed to radiate from it and resting a hand over it at night, it felt like your skin was n fire under chilled, icy hands. Whenever your eyes fell upon Mitch, the burn seemed to increase, your thumping heart speeding up without the feeling of love.

Swallowing thickly one night, you placed your fork down with a loud clatter than caught Mitch’s attention for once. Dark whiskey eyes glanced up from his own food, a brow raising. Your hands fell into your lap, fingers fiddling together anxiously. Your eyes squeezed shut, unsure why you felt so nervous. It felt like it had been forever since you spoke to him. It felt like you hadn’t had a normal conversation with the Mitch you knew and loved. His gaze now felt like it was piercing your soul, your blood running cold. His warming presence now teetered over you, intimidating you with just a glance.

“Mitch,” you breathed, finally daring to look up at the man. “Are you ok?”

The question was honest, and you could see Mitch waver slightly at the sudden inquiry. His hand shook, the fork placed on the table slowly. His reddened lips pursed together, rubbing together in thought. His eyes narrowed before falling to the table, pondering whatever words he would spout off. Cocking your head to the side, you waited, no immediate answer coming. Your hand unconsciously rubbed at your irritated wrist, a sense of dread and anguish beginning to wash over you. Your lip quivered, eyes glistening with unshed tears you had withheld for years.

“Please,” you let out quietly, voice cracking under the weight of worry. “Please, Mitch. Just answer me honestly. I’m so worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” came his quick reply. His sultry voice made you shiver, the man returning his gaze to you across the table. A fire burned in his orbs. His hands curled into tightened fists, knuckles glowing a ghostly white from the tension. “I promise, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure-”

“Yes,” he cut you off, giving a small smile that screamed fakeness. “I promise, I’m fine. I will make things right, I swear.”

His words sparked a sense a distrust - a feeling you never thought you’d feel. Something felt off with the way he said it. Something wasn’t right because the mark imprinted in your skin burned hotter with determination. Yet, behind the fire was a cold wave that told you one thing.

Mitch lied about being fine.

But…

He wasn’t lying about making things right.

The words lingered in your mind ever since. You wanted to piece together what it meant. You were scared your friend - your crush - was going to do something he may regret one day. Nightmares plagued your mind of the reckless things he could attempt, the result always the same. He would lay on the ground in a pool of his own blood, the crimson liquid spreading out in every direction. Finally, it would settle around your feet, staining your bare feet. His lifeless eyes would bore into you, head giving a sickly crack as it tilted in the wrong direction in a zombie-like manner. His mouth would part, the same words making you scream yourself awake.

Why didn’t you help me? Why did you let me die?

In your state of panic, you began to use your days ff to tail the man. Taking note of his odd behavior as the fall and winter weather approached, you bundled in the warmest jacket you could find, a bean on your head and gloves on your hands while following him, keeping a safe distance so he wouldn’t pick up on your presence. His head occasionally would whip around, as if he felt eyes on him at all hours of the day.

You hid in a corner of the gym, sipping on a bottle of water while watching him wrestle and fist fight with the other men. Mitch seemed to be oblivious to your form watching over him, too focus on the punches he would throw, the kicks he laid and the aggressive grappling he had become fond of. One too many times, you saw how violent he would become, spinning his body around in a way that made his butt stick out in the black and red gym shorts. His legs would wind around a man’s torso, hands gripping at the shirt to begin choking the defenseless trainee. Only when they were red in the face and on the verge of passing out would Mitch be ripped away, his opponent gasping for air with the mumble of low curses under his breath.

The increased violence furthered your worry. Mitch could be a hard ass growing up, but before your eyes, this was new extreme. He seemed primed to kill, his sight gone red with one thought: fulfill the task at hand. Even in training, he seemed to be prepping for something, not caring who was in his way of becoming strong. His steps never tangled and his hands never wavered, the intent to end a life sickening.

Your head snapped up one cold afternoon, the straw of your coffee between your lips when you heard the yells of Carlos from the mats. The pen in your hand fell into your notebook, straightening up where you sat to see what was going on. Mitch was swiping his thumb across his nose, cheek red. His eyes had narrowed as Carlos’ booming voice carried.

“That’s it, Rapp. You’re done. Get out,” he told the sweaty man. Mitch glanced between the gym owner and the guy gasping for air on the ground, cursing out Mitch. Noticing he stood stagnant, Carlos’ voice raised, pointing at the door. “Get out!”

Mitch rolled his eyes, an air of annoyance exuding from him body. He reeked of it, not caring who knew he was pissed off. Ripping off the gloves, Mitch trotted to his belongings, removing the leg pads before pulling on his shoes. His hair stuck to his forehead, clothes clinging to his limbs. Whipping his jacket onto his shoulder, he stood from his seat, gym bag tight in hand.

“Have a nice fucking day,” was his bitter remark. You winced when the clang of the door banged open, Mitch disappearing into the cold while the door clattered shut.

Gathering your stuff, you rushed over to Carlos, giving him a sad smile. “I’m so sorry about him, Car. He’s just… he’s been on edge.”

Carlos sighed, rubbing his chin. “I know he’s your friend, but you can’t keep making excuses for him, Y/N.”

“What? I’m not-”

“Watch out for him,” Carlos said. “He’s going to get hurt with this reckless behavior. Or worse - he’ll get someone else killed. And I’d rather not hear that it’s you.”

You frowned, tightening your grip on your bag. You stared at the ground, biting at your lip. “He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I don’t know about that anymore.”

You left without another word, following Mitch to his next destination: the gun range. With every step you took, all you could think was, He would never do that.

Walking down the packed street, you slid past people as fast as you could, trying to keep pace with the ever vigilant man. Your hands were stuffed in the pockets of your jackets, only pulling out glove-clad hands when you moved by people while uttering low apologies. Your eyes never left the man through the gaps in the crowd, a considerable gap to keep from being noticed.

Through the entire process of tailing your friend, you missed the shutter of a camera going off, a man in black clicking photo after photo of Mitch as he hastily sped his way down the Rhode Island streets of gray brick and cobblestone. The circle with a distinct crosshair narrowed on the man for a flurry of pictures before turning to you. The man in black taking the photos stared at the image of you he had captured, clicking the radio on his ear.

“Candidate is on the move to the gun range. The girl is on his tail.”

“Does she know anything?”

“I don’t think so. I think she’s just concerned.”

“Well, make sure she doesn’t pick up on his habits. If he makes a move, we can’t drag her into this.”

“Yes, ma’am, Director Kennedy.”

You didn’t know that the last time you would would see Mitch was that day at the gun range. You had stood worried near your coworker who agreed to cover for you as you watched Mitch. It started out normal: shot after shot making your ears ring, even through the noise cancelling headphones you were designated to wear in the pit. Each shot that was fired nailed its target, the paper cut out of a human being displaying holes in the head and chest.

The noise picked up when he swapped guns, the hand gun exchanged for a high powered rifle that struck through the air with a sickening crack. The constant ‘boom, boom, boom’ made you wince, watching the slaughter of the target in progress. Dust was flying, bullets hitting the wall behind the target as it was torn to shreds. People stopped at stare at the man you called your longtime best friend, his form unwavering and unflinching.

You stood from your seat in panic when the alarm sounded, blaring into your mind clearly. Each step into the gravel Mitch did made you heart jump, clammy hands gripping at the bottom of your shirt. After swapping guns again, the even more high powered pistol firing off into the air, Mitch was attacking other targets. When he moved forward, the gun dangled at his side, the former athlete swapping to a handheld pistol as if he were finishing off a target after he ran out of bullets.

You wanted to run after hi, hugging him from behind to stop him. But Jeremy held you back, shaking his head. Sadly, you were forced to watch Mitch get escorted from the premises.

You didn’t follow him after that. You headed home, soaked in a bath, and never heard from him again. He seemed to vanish, leaving nothing more than a note on his fridge door that said he was on a trip and not to worry about him. The words didn’t calm you, your worry building each day that passed. Phone calls went unanswered, going straight to voicemail after a while. Texts went unread, no reply attempted. No sign of life lingered in his apartment, the mess the same very time you walked in, walking back out immediately after. Dust was gathering on the surfaces. Mitch’s landlord asked every time you walked in what was going on.

All you could tell him was you didn’t know before passing him the payments Mitch neglected while he was away.

Sitting at work one afternoon, Wendy, you seatmate, slide over to you, leaning on her elbows as she eyed you. Her long black hair draped across her shoulders, tips brushing against the tabletop. Her dark eyes narrowed on your form, bright red lips pursed together. Manicured nails drummed against the polished table, the click clack making your nerves rattle. Amidst all of your stress, you were on edge from lack of sleep. Hearing her chair squeak when he shifted into a different position to stare at the side of your face, you let out a deep sigh, turning to her.

“Can I help you, Wen?”

“You look like you haven’t slept again,” she pointed out. Gesturing to her own face, she pointed out the spot just under her eyes. “Your make up didn’t cover the bags. And you look like you haven’t eaten. You’ve lost color in your cheeks.”

“Is my makeup really that bad that you can tell?” you huffed, pulling a mirror from your purse.

“Yes and no,” she mused. “I just know you that well. So, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled.

“You’re a horrible liar.”

You sighed again, letting your head fall to your lap. You hand instinctively rubbed at your wrist, feeling a brief sting of pain course through your body. It wasn’t nearly as bad as some of the shockwaves you had encountered, but it was rattling whenever the sudden feeling took over. Wendy watched on, waiting for you to answer.

“I’m just worried,” you admitted, eyes darting to her for a second. “Mitch hasn’t been home in over a month. He was he was on a trip, but I haven’t been able to get a hold of him. I’m scared something happened. The last time he left like this, he was shot in Ibiza. He hasn’t been the same since and I’m afraid that he went off to do something reckless. That he’s on some suicide mission.”

You wanted to tell her more. To tell her about the burning sensation that flowed through your veins like fire. To confess about the feelings you felt that weren’t your own: the sense of dissatisfaction that happened days after Mitch vanished, the anger that made your skin crawl, the shocks of pain that ripped through your body nights ago while a sense of determination and focus kept your eyes open. But, you knew she would think you crazy. It was like telling someone you could hear voices. It wouldn’t end well to say something.

“All he left was a note, right? Saying he would be away?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I’m sure he left it because he knew I would stop by. I-”

“You always do. I know,” she mused. “You care a lot for that man but it feels like he doesn’t care back.”

“No, he does,” you said, almost as if trying to convince yourself too. “He’s been my friend forever. So, whatever’s been going on - what’s been going through his mind - I don’t think he wants me involved. That’s why I’m afraid he’s going to do something reckless. He won’t tell me so I don’t try to butt in. He knows I will. I feel like he has some death wish.”

“Well, he’s stupid if he keeps pushing you away.”

“I…” you started, letting out a choked sigh. You were fighting back tears. “I don’t know why he’s fighting so hard against me. I know he’s been hurt and he lost Katrina, but all I’ve ever done is been there for him. And he keeps himself so sheltered now. I don’t understand what happened or why he’s being like this. Everything changed, Wendy…”

Wendy rubbed your back, giving a sad smile. “He’s a male. Males do dumb shit.”

“You can say that again.”

“As much as I hate the guy for making you feel so shitty, I want to say that he has good intentions. If you were as good of friends as you say, he must be doing this for a reason. He kept himself away maybe because he doesn’t want you to get hurt by something?” Wendy grinned, trying to lighten to mood. “Or, maybe deep down, he just loves you so much that he is afraid you will reject him.”

You let out a bitter laugh, unable to smile fully. Maybe he does care and he’s pushing me away because of it. Because of Katrina…

“How about you take the rest of today off?” Wendy proposed. Your brow rose at your friend, silently asking what she was talking about. “I will take care of the work you have to do today. You should go to his apartment and snoop around.”

“Snoop around?” you inquired.

“Have you ever actually looked around since he left?” she asked. When you shook your head no, she continued. “Maybe there is some clues around for where he went to what is going on.”

“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”

“You have a key to his apartment. It’s not like you are breaking in,” she claimed. “As far as I can see, it’s perfectly fine for you to look around.”

“I don’t know…”

“Y/N,” she cut you off. Her hands took yours, smoothing over the tops. “I know you care about him. I know you are worried. So, figure out where he went. It’s the only way to put your mind and heart at ease. Just look around. Maybe there is something there you never noticed. Something that’ll tell you what you need to know. Anything that helps, I want you to look for.”

You pouted for a second before nodding. “Fine.”

“Good,” she grinned. “Text me and keep me updated if anything happens.”

“I will. Thank you, Wen.”

You rushed from the office, headed straight for Mitch’s desolate apartment. Mr. Hazir nodded at you when you walked in, rushing up the stairs to the second floor where the apartment sat. Your hand shook with the key, making you stop to take a deep breath before sliding the key into the lock and twisting. The door clicked, squeaking open as you entered. The dark apartment made you grimace, the smell of old, sweaty clothes giving off a distinct musk wafting up your nose.

Your bag was left by the door as you wandered the apartment, searching for anything that may give you a clue to his unknown location. The punching bag swung lazily when your hand brushed against it, the chain rattling against the hook with its strained weight. His work out gear sat discarded on his ruffled bed sheets, training gloves and pads full frontal vision for you to see. Dust collected on your fingers when they were swiped along any surface, reassuring to his vacancy.

Sitting on the bed, you flicked your eyes through the apartment, straining to see if there was anything out of place that you weren’t used to seeing. “Where did you go?” you asked aloud, receiving no answer back. You sighed, laying back on his bed, feeling the cold sheets and blankets under your hand. “What are you up to, Mitch?”

Your throat tightened with unshed sobs and tears, choking back the sorrow you felt. You forced yourself to sit up, going through his drawers to find something - anything. Your mouth dropped at the sight of the multiple books on the Arabic language, culture and history you never truly realized he was reading. Balls of paper were in the waste bin near his bed, each one being a different article about the same person: Adnan Al-Mansur. The last article you picked up made you body quiver.

It was an news article about the attack in Ibiza.

“Mitch…” you whispered out, biting your lip.

Moving to his computer, your heart sunk further into your stomach. The keyboard was covered with a transparent keyboard with the Arabic alphabet. More books and papers were piled on either side of his laptop, adding to the confusion of what he was doing. Powering on the laptop, you were met with his login information, the password unknown. You sighed hopelessly, not wanting to attempt to break in. Instead, your fingers brushed across the keyboard, feeling warmth along your tips despite the cold plastic it felt. Your fingers moved like you were typing unsure what you were saying.

It just felt natural.

“What have you been doing?” you asked yourself. “I don’t get it. You’ve been learning Arabic, but for what?” You felt dread seeping in, not wanting to believe the following question. “Were you planning revenge on Mansur, the man who murdered Katrina?”

Nausea began to set in. Your stomach twisted with unanswered questions. You needed to escape before you spewed your lack of food onto the hardwood floor. The chair clattered backwards in your haste, hitting the floor with a loud thump. Your heel clacked against the floor while rushing for the front door, stilling before you got there. Your body froze, eyes directed at the closet that hung ajar.

You tried to push it closed, but something impeded it. Swallowing thickly, you pulled it open, letting your arms drop to the sides. Pasted to the inside of the door were pictures of Mansur, slices and cuts ebbed into the photos. The Wooden door had been punctured, but by what? The knife that still sat imbedded in Mansur’s forehead. The black handle poked straight out, blade sharp and stuck in the wood. The pit in your stomach grew at what you saw, the worst becoming reality.

You ran away, not looking back at the evidence of insanity and maniacal vengeance that was present in that room. You didn’t want to admit what you knew. You didn’t want to believe that Mitch was out for revenge.

Mitch was on a suicide mission to kill Adnan Al-Mansur.

The room was dark. The only sound was the clicking of fingers against a keyboard. The multiple screens that were perched along the wall were the only source of light, eyes flittering between the codes that appeared before them. The white letters against a black screen flashed rapidly across the screen until the stopped with coordinates to the destination in question. The eyes blinked, blinded from the constant staring at the bright screens in the dark hour.

It was after midnight.

But the chair sliding against the floor was loud, feet padding across the room to find the first bag possible. Clothes were shoved inside, hygiene products shoved into a small pouch on the inside. A passport sat on the bed, ready for use. A hand grabbed the phone that was connected to the computer, dialling a number rarely used.

It was cheating to do so, but you had no choice. Years in a computer science field and you were well adept in the task of breaking into someone’s phone, tracking the location of its whereabouts. The task was illegal, so you rarely did it. But when Mitch changed, you knew you needed a way to keep an eye on him.

Zipping the bag shut, the phone pressed to your ear, you spoke to the person on the other end confidently.

“I need the first available ticket overseas. Preferably the fastest travel.”

“Where is the destination?”

Your eyes fell on the computer before swinging the bag onto your back, backing towards the door. One hand rubbed the jigsaw piece on your wrist, feeling the determination that spurred from not one, but two sources: yours and the unknown presence that lingered around, giving you a sense of comfort that came from something, or someone, else. You were going to him. If he was still alive - you would be there. Even if he didn’t want you there, you couldn’t abandon your friend. Your mouth parted to answer, accepting what you had to do before answering.

You would save Mitch, one way or another.

“Istanbul, Turkey.”

Errthang Tag 2.0: @catcrown21; @voidkitsune24; @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone; @savage-stilinski; @twilightparker; @rumoured-whispers; @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname; @caitsymichelle13; @addicttotw; @fox-lau; @xmadwonderland; @kaelyn-lobrutto24; @lobrien; @kal-pal; @espermirror; @nowthisiswaar; @belleknows; @ashpie97; @mixedupsammy; @dylobrienlover; @newtosaur250; @bandsweyhey; @offthewallspidey; @livinginadreamersparadise; @tommyswolves; @ashotofblues; @bilesbilinskix; @danathewitchywoman; @thisismexxo; @you-all-have-guns; @soulaura-canavel; @bojabee; @obrienswxlf; @feelingsareharddd; @xoitsjustmexo;@supernaturaltakeover; @suggsmate; @cassiee867; @hope-stilinski; @barryallenplease; @herscrunchiehairtie; @bottleoffirewhisky; @jadalecki-jackles; @evansesdust; @everythingthatisrandom; @puppiesarehappiness; @ixlovexpeterxparker; @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed; @tenseoyong; @jadav5; @myrandomzshit; @disbestiles; @mxtchsbxtch; @dafine18; @avadakedabitch; @girlwiththerubyslippers; @xpinkyprincess; @ssweet-empowerment; @jackles-jadalecki; @dobseventeen; @dylnobrien1911, @redstringlovers; @brien-odylan; @xxxxdelenaxxxx; @katlovey14; @deajm2116; @loverofwaytoomanythings618; @megreadss; @nooneelsethandacre; @dvlob; @rubyocampobitch; @lolitskatttttt; @debaucheryfinest; @mrsmitchrapp; @withinyourstars; @redsalv20; @kwaldorfff; @thegirlwhoimagined; @sellinxhs; @preciousnewt; @younghennig; @nope-thanks; @smartanddumbatthesametime; @teenwolfbitches2; @dylanpoptart

JP Tags: @lifeinthedayof; @naihqh; @redsalv20; @michaelgcliffordrecords; @argentspackig; @creppyobrien; @katedjt; @dylanoslayy; @skinnynuggetobrien; @findawaytofadeaway; @caitlyn-blackwell; @funkenniffler; @meet-me-in-carolina; @uberduber-loulou; @manlymieczyslawstilinski @joebob24; @og-baby-ob14; @geekydane-post; @slowlybeautifulprincess; @caitycon; @shaeob; @mirkerlurker; @theraggedwerewolf; @undyiingfidelity; @oceansirens; @thycravedylan; @schnin25; @imperfect-circle

Ask to be Added/Removed from a list; Bolded cannot be tagged! (sorry)

Please Do not Republish this work on another site!

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curtishoney · 6 years

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Baseball Bats and Stars

summary: On their seventeenth birthday, every human gets a mark. The mark of their soulmate. Stiles is nervous, like every teen when the clock strikes twelve, what will appear on his skin?

a/n: a soulmate au! I was so excited to write this, I had chosen stars because I love the night sky, the stars, and astronomy and astrology. Allison will still be alive, and the timeline is pretty fucked. I thought it should be short and sweet, but if you want a part 2, just ask! Should I write one for Dylan? <3 <3 (y/z/s) stands for your zodiac sign btw.

masterlist inbox part two

11:59 p.m.

One minute before Stiles turns seventeen on April 8th. The anticipation making him more anxious than ever. Most people wanted a friend or family member to be there with them for moral support. But not Stiles, he wanted to soak it all in before telling anyone. Crazy thoughts popped up in his mind.

What if it’s something bad?

What if I don’t get one at all?

Stiles had heard the stories, the myths of people not receiving their mark. Where they all died alone.

What if I’m gonna die alone?

What if?

With all the what if’s going through his head, Stiles bounced his leg up and down. A nervous habit he gained after his mother’s death.

What if I’m not good enough for her?

What if she’s obnoxious?

Or rude?

The thoughts running through his head all at once made him unaware of the new number on the clock. With his usual attention to detail, he had no idea how he couldn’ve missed it.

12:00 a.m.

“Oh my God,” Stiles muttered under his shaky breath.

He looked down at his left wrist, stars, stars had dotted his skin. In a certain way, which could only be one thing. A constellation. Stiles got up from his bed, racing over to his desk, clicking on his laptop trackpad. He searched for constellations, and there it was. The same constellation that was on his wrist.

The constellation of a (y/z/s).

Stiles got up from his chair, sprinting downstairs to his father. To his surprise, he saw his friends and his dad. A happy birthday banner hanging across the ceiling, unlit candles on a birthday cake. His friends, smiles upon their faces. Something he hadn’t seen a lot of since the supernatural came into their lives, and the losses they had faced.

“Happy birthday Stiles!” they shouted in unison.

He smiles as his heart warmed, he had the most wonderful friends ever. Stiles went up to hug Scott, then Lydia, and Allison. His dad came over, a proud look on his face, hugging him tightly. “Happy birthday son,” was all Noah Stilinski could say, trying not to tear up that his son was now seventeen.

“Thank you Dad,” the brunette whispered.

“So?” asked Scott, “What is it?” The werewolf gestured to his wrist. Stiles rolled down his red flannel sleeve, revealing the mark to all. “Dots?” questioned the werewolf, Scott wasn’t exactly the brightest, but he had his moments and was all anyone could ever ask for.

“No, they’re stars, in the constellation of (y/z/s).” Lydia corrected.

Everyone looked at Lydia in surprise, “What?” asked Lydia, “I like astronomy.”

Then everyone laughed and carried on.

Stiles walked up to Scott and Allison, they were talking about what Scott’s mark would be. Allison’s was a pair of black bands, just like the tattoo Scott has. Scott was wondering what his mark would be. “It’s probably gonna be a bow and arrow,” suggested Stiles, “Allison’s signature weapon is a bow after all.” “Yeah,” agreed Allison, tracing the bands on her wrists.

“Whatever it is, I know I’m gonna love it.” responded Scott, pulling Allison in for a kiss.

“That’s my cue to leave,” said Stiles walking over to his kitchen.

Stiles started subconsciously tracing his mark, thinking about what his soulmate would be like. Lydia hasn’t gotten hers yet, but would get hers before Scott. But Stiles got deep into thought, thinking about his soulmate’s hair and eyes, personality, and height. He hoped she was shorter than him, which sounded a bit egotistical, but he thought it would’ve been funny to see her reach up to kiss him.

After the party ended and the cake eaten up, his guests all left, saying their goodbyes and heading home. Stiles was in his bedroom, changed into a simple grey T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He was laying on his bed staring at his ceiling, smiling to himself, thinking about the girl who was soon to be the center of his dreams.

Goodnight (y/z/s).

#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski #dylan o’brien x reader #dylan o’brien imagine #dylan o'brien #teen wolf #mtv #mtv teen wolf #scott mccall #allison argent #lydia martin #sheriff stilinski #noah stilinski #soulmate au

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faladrast · 6 years

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Collide by allyasavedtheday, AKA @littlespooneven

A beautiful, heart-wrenching soulmate fic. Read it and spread the love!

#sterek #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski edit #soulmate au #derek hale #derek hale edit #tyler hoechlin #dylan o'brien #tyler hoechlin edit #dylan o'brien edit #faladrast

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inter-st · 17 days

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The intimacy of being understood just by him.

If you think about it:

All around them was just... Surreal.

The vicious and delicate fond gestures, the famished and devoutness glances intricate till the core. Even that intangible atmosphere surrounded created to keep them in their own world.

Was really surreal, but meant to exist.

#teen wolf sterek #sterek #stiles x derek #derek x stiles #stiles stilinski #derek hale #dylan o'brien #tyler hoechlin #sterek au #teen wolf #mates #love is love #werewolf #years later #meant to be #soulmates

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mitfkl · 6 years

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Soulmates!au where on your skin became all scars that your soulmate has thomas always wanted to have a soulmate he loved him even he didn’t know him but every day since he become 15 he sees new scars that his soulmate got when he was 19 he saw phrase “hate you” carved on his hand and then all stopped

tw » @ mitfkl

#au #newtmas #newt #thomas #dylmas #dylan o'brien #thomas sangster #soulmate #aesthetics #aesthetic

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disbestiles-blog · 7 years

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Enchanted 07 - Dive

Dylan O’Brien x Reader AU / Word count: 1,256

Summary: The Reader don't have sure about what to do in your life and after she give time on College she moves to LA to try new things in your life. She ends up getting a role on a TV show and one of the cast members is your favorite actor, Dylan O'brien. Despite him was dating, they start to approache and gets harder to keep just a friendship.

Warnings: you’ll have to read and tell me which the warnings lol

If you like reading music listening I recommend you click here.

A/N: It was very hard to write this part because my writer's block don't wanted to go away but finnaly he gone. So I’m a little late but it’s here. I'm hope that you enjoy it and let me know about your opinions.

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 (you are here), Part 8.

Sunday started out cheerful and pleasant and I decided to spend the day reading my scripts and rehearsing. The recordings of the series would begin in a few days and I needed to be prepared. Sometimes I would catch myself thinking about the last night and I couldn't deny that she had been great in every way. If someone told me some time ago about what my life would be like this week I would surely laugh and say that the person was dreaming.

I tried don't think so much about Dylan and about what he had told me but the words "I'm not totally committed" didnt leave my head. I knew he and Britt had been dating for almost 7 years, and sometimes were seen together in premieres and some places, but as they were extremely discreet nobody knew what their relationship was like. If he don't said anything about this I wouldn't be the curious one who would ask for this subject. Besides, it was just a kiss and not a declaration of love. I don't have any reasons to worry because if him was single, probably he just wanted to have fun.

The day went by fast and I slept early to not have trouble waking up the other day. The next morning I woke up, had a quick coffee, and went to the studio. When I arrived I went to get dressed me with Olivia and Emma. One of the good things about be an actress was is having so many outfits to wear and Hope's outfits were incredible. After we done to dress and doing the makeup we went to start the photo shoots. Everyone was already gathered and dressed according to their characters. Noah, Chris and Dylan were already taking some pictures and they seemed to be having a blast.

Everyone greeted each other and we began to follow the instructions the photographer and Georgie gave us. We did some individual photos but most of them were in a group, because they would be used by the channel to make advertisements and releases on the internet. Despite the seriousness of that work the cast didn't let anything look boring. When Noah and Dylan were not amusing us with jokes, we were dancing random songs that played or telling some funny story.

When we finished all the photos, Georgie praised and thanked everyone for the effort. The day had been very productive and incredibly fun. I was starving and there was a large table of coffee available for us, so I decided to eat something. Dylan was nearby and approached me. He had a smirk on his face that made him look just like a little boy sometimes. I was a bit nervous about having a conversation alone with him, after all, we talked just for messages after that night and it had been random conversations about the news, tv and the show.

I didn't know how I should react personally and Dylan was very unpredictable.

“Hey Y/N! Do you liked of today?” He he asked picking some cookies.

I nodded, smiling a little, “so much! I'm enjoying to make part of it, it's amazing!”

“And your nervousness? I realized that you were quite comfortable today.”

“Yes, I'm already calm.”

“Great! I told you it would be easier, right?”

“Yes and thank you for this Dyl! It means a lot to me.”

He nodded and looked at me, smiling gently as he took some coffee from him as well.

“So...”

Before he could finish the sentence, Emma, who was having coffee too, approached us, looking very excited.

“Hey guys! What are you talking about?”

“About how unfair and mean people are with dogs.” Dylan said seriously, clearly being ironic. He took another sip of coffee as he held the false seriousness. Emma looked suspicious, wondering at the subject we were talking. I decided to join him in the irony.

“Emma, did you know people almost never get dogs here in LA? Just little puppies! This is an injustice! We really need to do something! What do you think of a protest?”

Emma was a bit stunned by the seriousness of the conversation. She stammered a little but tried to participate.

“I have not heard anything about it yet, are they talking on the internet? Is it some movement?”

We started laughing, which made her even more confused by the situation.

“We're kidding Em, relax.” Dylan reassured her.

“Yes, actually we were talking about the photo shoot. It was really fun right?!” I said.

“Yes, a lot! But you guys really fool me!” Emma said laughing.

“But about adoptions is really true, people don't like to adopt grown dogs, just puppies. There are some ONG's that fight against this but many animals are still abandoned.” I was joking before but it was sad to say that it was true.

Dylan looked at me a little surprised but agreed to the situation. “It's true, I've been following some cases about it. Do you like dogs Y/N/N?”

“I love dogs! I already had two when I lived with my family.” I replied smiling.

Emma interrupted us again. “Cool! You also love dogs, right Dyl? I met Britt once and we talked about your dogs.”

She’s took Dylan by surprise and he's hesitated a little, before to answer. “Yes, we have. I didn't know you and Britt knew each other Emma.”

“I ran with her sometimes at work. She's so beautiful and kind, you're lucky!” Emma said distracted.

Emma began to talk about where she had met Britt and her seemed intent on continuing that conversation. Dylan looked uncomfortable with the situation, but no more than I did. Until that moment no one had mentioned Britt, not even him. Listening to it made me think better, as if I awoke from a trance. Being so close to Dylan made me forget for some time about the reasons why I couldn't be stay so close to him and how much real they were, no matter what explanation he had. I finished my coffee and I said a quickly goodbye, leaved they alone.

I returned Hope's outfits and some accessories and waited until Olivia did the same to leave together. We were almost out the set when I heard someone calling me. I looked over to see who it was and saw Dylan hurry up. I asked Olivia to wait a minute as him approached awkwardly.

“Hey, you left fast and I didn't say goodbye.”

I looked at him with a confused expression, but I was being ironic. “All right Dyl, you were busy and I needed to leave.”

He looked sideways and took a deep breath, seeming not to know how to continue that conversation. “Y/N/N I'm sorry if I created a situation where you might be uncomfortable. I mean... I don't expected for that.”

“Dylan it's fine, we don't doing anything, anyway.” I said took him a little surprise.

“What do you mean, nothing? I thought we'd gotten over it.” Dylan looked at me confused.

“I think that you have some things to solve and I can't be a part of this. I need to go Dylan, see you tomorrow.”

I didn't mean it, not like that. I just wanted to live without thinking so much about the consequences of my actions, without so much anxiety. But not always where there's a will, there's a way. Before he could say anything I pulled away and got into Olivia's car.

MASTERLIST / Let me know if you liked it ;)

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bourneinmind · 4 years

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Can someone please help! I'm trying to find the dylan O'Brien soulmate one shot where the first words you hear the soulmate speak are written on your body. And the first words that y/n hears is stiles' first line in teen wolf. PLEASE HELP I've been thinking about it all day and I can't find it ???? I hope it's still on here I bloody loved it

#stiles stilinski #soulmate au #dylan o'brian imagine #dylan o'brien #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf one shot #stiles stilinksi x reader #dylan obrian one shot

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kallyjadestilinski · 7 years

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Yellow Strings (Stiles Stilinski AU) Chapter 6

Author: @kallyjadestilinski

Word Count: 1808

Authors Note: I can not apologize enough for how long I have gone without posting, but I am happy to say that I have a new chapter for y’all. I am so full of ideas for this story, and a major plot is about to take off! Thank you so very much to anyone who continues to read my story, and if anyone else would like to be tagged please let me know! I also have some ideas for short imagines, and fictions if anyone would like to make a request! I HOPE EVERYONE LIKES THIS CHAPTER!

Tags: @fangirl-moment-x

Stiles waited in his room, which he had cleaned and cleaned a million times, for Jade to come through his open window. He couldn’t sit still to save his life and switched from sitting on the bed to on his desk chair at least seven times when he finally saw Jade's silhouette outside his window. Jade slipped into the room with ease and set herself on the bed across from where Stiles was sitting in his desk chair before he finally spoke to her, “how was your hunt?” She looked at him with her glowing green eyes, “good actually. I took down three mountain lions.” She smiled proud of her accomplishment, and first full meal in a while. His face shifted to a face of shock, “three mountain lions?! That’s insane, and that’s a full meal, it sounds like a lot.” She laughed at his comment before explaining that it all depended on how thirsty you were, the last time you hunted, how weak you were, and what you hunted. He nodded taking it all in and she smiled at how serious he looked. She had so quickly learned that Stiles loved to be the one to figure things out, and put two and two together. She looked around his room at the various objects that sat on shelves or hung on walls, but her eyes kept referring back to the elephant in the room. Sitting in the center of his room was a large clear board covered in papers, red tape, and the sloppy handwriting that could only come from the hand of Stiles.

The supernatural side of Beacon Hills had been quite for a sometime now. So long in fact that Stiles had removed mostly everything that covered the board had been cleared. There was no more dread doctors, or desert wolves. Instead the words soulmate, vampire, eyes, and connection were scribbled onto the board. Red tape went between documents, and pictures, and there in the center was a random silly picture the two had taken one of the first times they had truly been around each other since they learned the truth of what they were. “What’s the board for? If you don’t mind me asking.” He stood and walked behind her wrapping his arms around her. They both felt it right then. They both felt at peace, like they had finally found home. Their lips turned upwards at the corners as the calming spark washed over them. It took just a moment before Stiles began to speak. “This is how I figure things out. I want to figure this whole vampire, and soulmate thing out. Well at least straightened out in my mind. I fell for you hard, and fast, and I just want to make sure that I know everything I can. I guess so I can do it correctly, or in the best way possible at least.” She leaned her head back onto his chest before speaking, “if anything is too much, or moving too fast please tell me. I know you have had experience with the supernatural before, but not like this. I mean it could change your life as a whole. You have never been around vampires before, we are different, and even I don’t know a lot.” He turned her around, and kissed her passionately, “that is exactly why I, your favorite future FBI agent, am here. I not only want to figure out this whole soulmate thing, but I want to help you figure out more of who you are. We are soulmates Jade we are in this together through thick, and thin. I hate to break it to you, but your soul got matched with probably the craziest yet best person ever.” She could contain her laughter as she hugged her perfect match.

They continued on for hours on end talking, laughing, and cuddling underneath the covers on his bed. Lucky for them it was the beginning of spring break, and they didn’t have to wake up for school the next morning. Before they knew it they had both drifted into a soft, and deep sleep. Stiles was suddenly jerked away from his peaceful state of mind by the feeling of Jades body being yanked from his arms. He shot up in bed and looked over to where Jade was shaking, sobbing, and jerking in her sleep. She wrestled with her subconscious as Stiles was doing everything he could to wake her up. Suddenly her body shot up in bed nearly knocking Stiles to the floor, she was sweating and shaking just like she had been doing every single night since she was changed. Jade and Stiles looked at each other, pain evident behind both of their eyes, before she suddenly began to sob once again. He did the only thing he knew that could possibly help, and pulled her into his arms. He knew he heard what she had said clearly. Right before she had woken up he heard her ask for Edmund to leave her alone. He looked down at his love, and all he could feel was pain. He wanted to erase the awful memory of her transformation away, and only leave her with every happy memory he could possibly think of. But instead he did the next best thing, and that was to simply be there.

By the time they woke up the sun had been in the sky for some time. Stiles sat up stretching his arms before looking over to Jade, she was still fast asleep with her arm still draped over his waist lazily. He couldn’t help but smile and lay down for just another minute putting his arm back over her waist. Before long her opened up to meet his, and there it was. The moment that seemed to be frozen in time, like the ones you see in movies and read about in books. They just locked their eyes together, and they simply could not look away. The corners of their mouths turned up, but before he could fully lean forward to place a soft kiss to her forehead his door was opened and Papa Stilinski walked in declaring that breakfast was ready before stopping halfway in the room shocked to see Jade in bed with his son. “Well I guess I will make more eggs, so I can be properly introduced to your new friend,” and with that he walked back out the door leaving Stiles stunned, and Jade holding her stomach to help contain her fits of laughter.

Downstairs things went a lot better than either of the two believed that it would. Now that Noah was in on the world of the supernatural he was a lot more understanding of most of the things that Stiles and his friend were up to when they were not home. Or even when they were home. Stiles explained that Jade was a vampire, and that she hunted animals, but before they went downstairs they had both agreed to keep the soulmate thing on the down low with people outside the pack until they had more time to process the fact of it themselves. Jade couldn’t help but feel her heart drop to her stomach thing of how great the relationship between the two was. She missed that. She missed morning sitting with her mom drinking coffee, and nights of listening to her dad play guitar. She missed having a family.

Spring Break was something they, and every other high school student of course, had looked forward to, but they had no idea what to do with the free time they were given...or the new relationship that was beginning to form between them. It took most of most of the day to decide that the best thing for the group to do was take full advantage of the fact that not only did they have a week off of school, but a lake nearby that Lydia knew very well, and tons of sleeping bags and tents. Lydia knew the perfect spot by the lake, and next to the lake house that her family used to own. The rest of the day was spent packing, mostly at Jade’s apartment. Stiles took the time of Jade being focused on her packing to wander around her apartment looking at the few things scattered. “Hey baby girl I know you said you had to run away, but how do you have so many things? I thought you had to run away or something…” Stiles called out from the living room. Jade rounded the corner with a full duffel bag on her arm. “After a month or so I went back to my old home, grabbed a bunch of different random things from my room. Clothes mainly, but a few odds and ends. Like my favorite books and pictures; everything else I have picked up from different stores and garage sales along the way. It feels empty in here doesn’t it?” Jade looked around at the bare walls and empty shelves that only made her feel more alone when she was alone at night. He watched the joy leave her face for only a second, and that was a heartbreaking second. The look of loneliness is one he never wanted to see cross her face ever again.

They all met at Derek's apartment, and Jade looked around at each member of the pack. They each held the hand of their significant other tightly smiling at each other, talking, and genuinely enjoying eachothers company. Suddenly Lydia loudly coughed to get the attention of the pack who continued to talk and laugh, “if I have to be any louder to get the attention of you loud asses I will scream.” Suddenly the entire pack became silent and Lydia smiled proudly, “now that you are all silent your Alpha would like to speak.” She smiled and rolled her eyes as Scott stood in the most hilarious way insanely happy with the fact that Lydia actually gave him the introduction he had jokingly told her to give. “Well guys I just wanted to give Jade her formal introduction into the pack, so welcome Jade. I hope you enjoy being a part of the family as much as we do,” Scoot gave the whole speech with a smile. Jades jaw dropped, and she looked up at Stiles with tears in her eyes and he nodded before wrapping his arms around her waist. “Thank you guys, for literally everything,” her glowing green eyes almost seemed to shine a slight bit brighter. Everyone smiled in one of the most content ways possible before issac suddenly clapped loudly, “LET’S GET THIS CAMPING TRIP STARTED! SHALL WE?” And with that every person clapped, and cheered, and celebrated. This was going to be an eventful camping trip for sure.

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24stiles920 · 6 years

Text

De-Void

Teen Wolf Rewrite

Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Warnings: Ages 16+, swearing, unconsensual touching, violence

Words: 7021

A/N: An update within twenty-four hours? I haven’t done that in ages! I hope you like this episode and the Nogitsune taking a liking to TR. Since Stiles thinks about her a lot, I picture the Nogitsune being intrigued by her. Please reblog to spread my content around to more readers and make sure to give me feedback if you want to! Xx.

Link to Masterlist in Bio!

Noah reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, dangling them in front of him so Stiles could see them. Stiles gazed at his dad, cocking his head to the side a little.

“You want to handcuff me?” He asked.

Noah started walking down the three steps that led to the lower level of the loft. “If my son is still here, if there’s still a part of him standing here in front of me, then he’ll put these on willingly and he’ll come with me,” he said, making his way over to Stiles. “Because he knows I’m here to protect him from himself and from others.”

Stiles’ face fell and his eyes watered as he looked down at the floor. He slowly raised both of his arms and held out his hands to Noah, surrendering himself. Noah carefully stepped forward and locked the handcuffs around both of Stiles’ hands, watching his son’s devastated face.

I watched, conflicted. I didn’t know whether or not this was the Nogitsune or if it was really Stiles. He had fooled us all once before and who’s to say he couldn’t do it again? The Nogitsune was an incredible actor—he’d proved that time and time again.

And then, almost as if he could read my thoughts, Stiles lifted his head to look at Noah. His eyes glinted mischievously and a small smirk spread his lips. He cocked his head and gave Noah a you-should-have-known-I-was-faking look.

He was the Nogitsune.

“You’re not my son,” Noah declared in a whisper, shaking his head in disappointment.

The Nogitsune pursed his lips and shook his head shortly. He pulled his hands apart and easily broke the metal handcuffs as if they were made out of paper. They flew off his wrists and landed noisily behind him.

I heard three sets of footsteps come up from behind me as Allison, Derek, and Mr. Argent joined in on this little meeting. The Nogitsune chuckled, looking amused, as the four of us walked forward to join Noah in front of him.

Allison looked at the Nogitsune with wide, horrified eyes—she had never seen him before, so I didn’t blame her for being taken aback. The Nogitsune turned his head toward her, his signature smirk widening as she raised her stun gun and aimed it at him.

Allison didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. Her finger twitched and the electrical wire flung out of the gun, flying straight in the Nogitsune’s direction. The Nogitsune caught the wires easily, the electric current doing nothing to affect him. He gritted his teeth and pulled on the wire, making the stun gun fly out of Allison’s hand. It flew across the room and hit the wall, useless.

Allison stared wide-eyed and I shuffled closer to her as the Nogitsune chuckled and took a step back.

There was a loud growl as Derek shifted, his electric-blue irises glowing brightly in the dimly-lit loft. He lunged toward the Nogitsune and went to scratch his face with his claws when the Nogitsune grabbed his arm and twisted it under his armpit.

Derek groaned in pain, his head flinging back. I couldn’t look away as the Nogitsune grabbed the front of Derek’s white t-shirt and easily threw him against the table next to me and Allison, slamming the werewolf’s head against the metal.

“Ah!”

It seemed that the Nogitsune wasn’t finished with Derek yet, though. He clutched the back of Derek’s t-shirt now and threw him across the room. Derek hit one of the pillars and fell to the floor, groaning and coughing in pain.

The cocking of a gun caught my attention. I turned around and saw that Mr. Argent had whipped out a gun and pointed it at the Nogitsune, his finger hovering over the trigger. I gasped, horrified, and the Nogitsune heard me. He twisted his head to the left and smirked when he saw the gun pointed at him. He turned around fully to face Noah and Mr. Argent, seemingly unaffected and even amused by the gun’s presence.

Noah stepped toward Mr. Argent, his hand lifted in front of him, as though he wanted to grab the gun right out of the hunter’s hands. “Argent,” he said cautiously. “Listen to me. Don’t do this.”

“Why not?” Mr. Argent asked calmly, his gun unwavering as it pointed right at the Nogitsune. “I’ve done it before. Werewolves, berserkers… I can easily add a Nogitsune to the list.”

I bit my lip nervously, my heart feeling like it was going to burst out of my chest it was beating so fast. My stomach twisted anxiously at the thought of Stiles being shot and possibly even killed. Even if it was the Nogitsune possessing Stiles right now, it was still my boyfriend’s body. Stiles was still in there somewhere.

Noah’s hand quickly went to his belt and pulled out his gun, cocking it and aiming it toward Mr. Argent. The Nogitsune made an ‘O’ with his mouth, his eyebrows shooting up in amusement. He cocked his head, glancing between the two men.

Mr. Argent merely glanced at Noah, who was staring at him with hard eyes.

“You’re not going to shoot my son,” Noah said firmly.

“You said it yourself, Sheriff,” Mr. Argent’s eyes slid back to the Nogitsune. “That’s not your son.”

“Put it down,” Noah warned Mr. Argent. “Put it down.”

The Nogitsune’s face twisted into one of fear and his bottom lip trembled. “Dad,” He breathed, his voice shaking. “He’s going to shoot me. He’s going to kill me, Dad.”

“Don’t listen,” Mr. Argent told Noah, who glanced at the Nogitsune.

“Put it down,” Noah advised. “Now—” the volume of his voice raised into a shout. “Do it! Put it down!”

The Nogitsune twisted his head back toward Mr. Argent, a cocky look on his face. “Pull the trigger,” he ordered, his voice low and smooth. “Come on.”

“Listen to me, you put the gun down now!” Noah shouted.

“Shoot me,” The Nogitsune encouraged Mr. Argent.

“Put the gun down now!”

“Dad!” Allison spoke up, giving her father a warning look.

I was glad she said something because, for some reason, I couldn’t speak.

“Shoot me!” The Nogitsune raised his voice.

“Put the gun down!” Noah repeated his request, shouting now.

“SHOOT ME!” The Nogitsune roared.

“Argent, you put it down!”

I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped at my forehead, feeling a pounding pain start up at my temples. This was chaotic and quickly becoming a disaster. We were here to help Stiles, yet this was happening instead—Mr. Argent pointing a gun at Stiles and Noah pointed his gun at Mr. Argent. It was more trouble than I thought would happen.

It was—

“Strife,” I whispered to myself.

And wasn’t? The Nogitsune fed off of pain, chaos, and strife, and Lord knows that two of the three were happening right now. He was enjoying this—it was entertainment for him.

The light from the window suddenly darkened and I turned my head toward the source. To my horror, the sun was setting. The Oni would be here any second to kill Stiles. I exchanged horrified looks with Allison and Derek.

“Stop!” I cried out as Noah shouted at Mr. Argent again. “Stop it! This is what he wants! This is exactly what he wants!”

The Nogitsune glanced at me and grinned. “Not exactly, sweetheart,” He muttered. “I was kind of hoping Scott would be here. But I’m glad you all have your guns out,” he continued, turning around to face the large window.

Four Oni appeared out of the shadows, their dark figures sticking out against the little light that the moon provided. The strange rattled noise that I heard the night of the rave echoed through the loft as they all took a simultaneous step forward.

“Because you’re not here to kill me,” The Nogitsune went on, stepping backward until he was behind Noah and Mr. Argent. “You’re here to protect me.”

All four of the Oni unsheathed their swords and expertly flipped them around in their hands. Mr. Argent stepped forward and pulled his gun’s trigger. Nothing happened, but he quickly adapted, pulling another gun from his jacket and cocking it.

Both Noah and Mr. Argent started shooting at the Oni, one bullet after another. It didn’t seem to be injuring the Oni at all and two of them disappeared, only to turn up behind me, Allison, Derek, and the Nogitsune.

“Get back, Y/N!” Derek shouted as he and Allison turned around to face the Oni.

I went to get out of the way, knowing that there was nothing I could do in this fight, but the Nogitsune quickly grabbed my arm, tightening his grip around my flesh, and stopping me from moving another inch.

“Stop,” I whimpered, tears prickling my eyes as I remembered the day he stomped on my wrist.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” He cooed, pulling me to his body. “You’re going to stay right here with me.”

I gritted my teeth and struggled, trying to get away, but the Nogitsune simply wrapped his arm around my waist in response and pulled me closer. I shivered as he trailed the tip of his nose down the curve of my jaw.

“So beautiful,” He murmured—and I had to remind myself that this was not Stiles. But God, I was so used to the large hands that held my waist and the soft lips that were currently brushing against my neck that it was hard to keep things straight.

“I’ve seen all the naughty little things you and Stiles have done,” The Nogitsune continued slyly, unconcerned with the fighting going on around us. “And, I don’t know, Y/N, I was planning on killing you—but now… well, I just might keep you around, sweetheart.”

“Don’t,” I whispered, squirming against him.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you,” he chuckled darkly. His laughter stopped abruptly as he looked up and around the loft. The Oni had suddenly disappeared. “I have to go, but I’ll be back for you, sweetheart.”

And then, as if he could teleport, the Nogitsune disappeared too. I breathed in a deep sigh of relief. I looked around and saw that Allison was panting from exertion, Derek was sitting on the ground, a blood gash spreading the back of his right shoulder, Mr. Argent was crouched down next to him, and Noah was looking around, confused.

I knew that we were all thinking the same thing: why had the Oni left?

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Allison asked, looking at me concerned.

“He got a little handsy with me,” I admitted sheepishly, shivering with disgust. It was wholly present now that I didn’t have the void version of Stiles around me. “Are you okay?”

“Not a scratch,” She assured me.

Loud footsteps came from the door and Mr. Argent and Noah pointed their guns at the source. They lowered them once they saw it was Scott and Kira.

Scott looked at all of our faces. “What happened?” He asked fiercely.

“They disappeared,” Allison answered breathlessly as Scott stepped further into the loft. “They literally just vanished.”

“And so did the Nogitsune,” I added.

“Wait, you’re kidding me, right?” I said, staring at Lydia in disbelief. “I mean, how—how could Malia Tate be Peter Hale’s daughter and how on earth could he not know about it”

“Apparently Derek’s mother took the memory from him,” Lydia explained as she sat at her vanity and brushed out her strawberry-blonde curls. “Maybe she already knew by that time that Peter was a psycho.”

I cocked my head thoughtfully. “Maybe,” I conceded. “But I met Malia, and while she’s a little rough around the edges, she definitely didn’t give off a Peter Hale vibe.”

“Well, she lived as a coyote for eight years,” Lydia reminded me. “She wasn’t unfortunate enough to be raised by that lunatic.”

“Yeah…”

“So will you go with me to the courthouse to check out her birth certificate?” Lydia finished pinning her bangs and turned to look at me. “I want to make sure I’m right.”

“Of course,” I answered easily. “As long as—”

“Aiden’s coming, too.”

“Damn, Lyds!” I whined, punching her mattress in frustration. “You know how I feel about him.”

“I don’t see why you can’t give him a chance,” Lydia sighed, rolling her eyes. “He’s actually not that bad.”

“What happened to not wanting to be with bad boys anymore?” I asked. “And what about Scott, huh?”

Lydia froze, her cheeks flushing slightly behind the coral-colored blush she had just put on. “What about Scott?” She said tartly. “He’s into that Kira girl and I’m into Aiden.”

“Okay,” I nodded understandably. After all, I was in her position once before—except I didn’t have a friend-with-benefits hanging around me.

Lydia gave me a grateful look and stood up from her vanity, smoothing down her short, floral dress. “Come on,” she nodded toward the door. “We have to pick Aiden up.”

“Please don’t tell me I have to sit in the backseat,” I complained, following her out of her bedroom.

I ended up in the backseat, just like I feared. Aiden nodded coolly at me as he got into the passenger seat, and I politely greeted him back. I knew I had to get used to him—he was part of the pack now, after all—but I was reminded of the vision I had of him assisting Kali with killing Boyd every time I looked at him.

“Turn right onto Gaffner Boulevard and continue for half a mile,” The robotic voice of the GPS ordered as Lydia drove us to the courthouse. Lydia turned the steering wheel obediently, turning onto Gaffner Boulevard.

Aiden sighed loudly, not having a clue about our destination. “Are you at least going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Y/N and I have to check on something,” Lydia answered vaguely.

“Okay,” Aiden said. He looked down and pulled a slip of paper out of the cupholder between him and Lydia. “Who’s Mah-leah Tate?”

“It’s Muh-leah,” Lydia corrected his pronunciation, ripping the paper out of his hand and crumpling it up. “And you don’t need to worry about it.”

“Turn right onto Commerce Way and continue for a quarter-mile,” the GPS piped up.

Lydia obeyed, turning right and continuing down the road.

“Well, I’m actually a little worried that we’re totally lost,” Aiden commented, looking out his window.

“Why do you think that?” Lydia wondered.

“’Cause you just made your fourth right,” Aiden told her. “And four rights make a circle.”

“Or a square!”

Lydia ignored my comment and looked at Aiden quickly. “I did not!” She objected, furrowing her eyebrows. “Did I?

Aiden didn’t answer.

“It’s a brand-new car,” Lydia excused herself. “And the GPS was fine before.”

“Well, maybe the GPS would work better if it was on,” Aiden replied.

“What?” I said, leaning forward.

I had clearly heard the female robotic voice of the GPS and by the way Lydia was following its every direction, she heard it too. But as I looked toward the dashboard, I saw that the GPS was, in fact, not on. The radio was playing some indie song that I had heard a couple of times before.

“Y/N?” Lydia asked, audibly beginning to panic.

“Something’s wrong,” I breathed, looking back at the radio to see for sure if the GPs wasn’t on.

Lydia reached forward and started pressing the radio power button on and off. She did this multiple times, her breathing getting heavier. Her actions caught Aiden’s attention and he looked over at her, concerned.

“Lydia, are you okay?”

“I have to stop,” she said quietly. And then she rapidly turned the steering wheel, jerking her car to the right, the tires squealing. “I need to pull over right now.”

“Lydia,” Aiden objected, grabbing the handle by his window as Lydia drove wildly through a parking lot. “Lydia!”

I narrowed my eyes as I caught sight of something ahead of us. There was a figure laying down in the parking lot, seemingly unconscious. And whoever it was looked very familiar—too familiar.

“Lydia, stop!” I ordered. “It’s Stiles!”

Lydia slammed on her breaks, making all three of us shoot forward against our seatbelts. We quickly got out of the car and ran the hundred or so feet to where Stiles was laying. Aiden cautiously put his hand in front of us as we got closer, protecting us in case the Nogitsune decided to jump up and try to kill us.

I stepped forward carefully, ignoring Lydia’s protests, and stopped a foot away from Stiles. It seemed like he was deeply asleep, his chest moving up and down in a slow rhythm. I checked him over with my eyes and gasped when I saw the large gash that took up the width of his stomach.

“Call Scott,” I told Aiden and Lydia. “Tell him we found Stiles and we need help.”

Lydia, Aiden, and I took Stiles and, under Scott’s orders, brought him to the McCall residence. Dr. Deaton, Melissa, and Scott met us outside and Scott helped Aiden carrying Stiles into the house.

“The couch,” Scott grunted to Aiden under his share of Stiles’ dead weight. “Put him on the couch.”

The two werewolves placed Stiles into a sitting position on the striped couch and backed away, letting Dr. Deaton observe him.

“Guys, this is crazy,” Melissa spoke up. “He needs to be in the hospital.”

“Mom, remember what happened last time he went to the hospital?” Scott reminded her.

Dr. Deaton crouched down in front of Stiles and looked closely at the gash taking up his stomach. He carefully pulled back the sliced edges of the gray t-shirt Stiles was wearing and glanced at the large wound.

“It doesn’t look like he’s bleeding,” Dr. Deaton commented professionally. “I think he might even be healing.”

“You mean healing like we heal?” Aiden wondered.

“That’s good, right?” Scott added hopefully.

Dr. Deaton took another look at the wound before leaning away. “For him, yes,” He confirmed. “For us? I’m not so sure.”

“I’m going to call Noah,” Melissa sighed, pulling out her phone and walking into the kitchen.

I bit my lip and turned back to Stiles, wondering if it was going to be the Nogitsune that he woke up as.

“Okay, so we’ve finally got him,” Aiden spoke up, looking down at Stiles’ form menacingly. “Let’s kill him.”

“Aiden!” Lydia, Scott, and I all chorused disapprovingly.

“We’re not killing him!” I added angrily, glaring up at the blue-eyed werewolf.

“Okay,” Aiden backed down. “Well, if we’re not going to kill him, why aren’t we at least tying him down with really big chains?”

“I might have something more effective,” Dr. Deaton said, grabbing his black, leather briefcase. He opened it up and pulled out an amber-colored vial. He showed it to Scott, who nodded in approval.

Scott and Aiden stepped toward Stiles and grabbed his shoulders with one of their hands. With the other ones, they held Stiles’ mouth wide open. Dr. Deaton dipped a dropper into the vial and pulled it out, holding it over Stiles’ mouth.

He had squirted the whole contents of the dropper into Stiles’ mouth when his eyes opened abruptly. Stiles grabbed Aiden’s wrist with one hand and his throat with the other, squeezing him tightly.

Aiden grunted in pain as Stiles—the Nogitsune—laughed joyously and Scott tried to pry his hand from around Aiden’s throat.

“Get him off me!” Aiden shouted. “Get him off me!”

Scott grabbed the Nogitsune’s hand as Lydia stepped forward and grabbed Aiden’s arm, pulling him away. The Nogitsune grunted, his hand stiff and slightly shaking in the empty air. He grunted as his arm slowly lowered.

“Kanima venom,” The Nogitsune acknowledged. “Nice touch.”

Aiden roared loudly and stepped toward the Nogitsune, his claws flicking out.

The Nogitsune looked unbothered. “You know how they say that twins get a feeling when the other one’s in pain?” He asked Aiden casually. “You didn’t lose that talent, too, did you?”

Everyone stared blankly at him.

“Oh,” He drawled, a smirk forming. “I hope not. You’re going to need it.”

Scott looked away from the Nogitsune and exchanged confused looks with Aiden.

“Okay, I’ll give a little hint,” The Nogitsune continued, looking annoyed that he had to clarify what he was talking about. He raised his eyebrows and whispered, “Ethan’s at the school.”

Aiden looked at Scott, his face grim, as if looking for permission.

“Go!” Scott urged.

Aiden hurried out of the living room and seconds later the front door slammed closed.

The Nogitsune leaned his head back and laughed, looking in the direction Aiden had left in. “Oh, I hope he gets there in time,” He sighed. “I like the twins. Short tempers, homicidal compulsions…” He lifted his head back in our direction, his eyes hardening as he sneered, “They’re a lot more fun than you bakemono trying to save the world every day.”

“Doc,” Melissa spoke up, startling me—I hadn’t realized she entered the room again. “You brought something to paralyze his body. You got anything for his mouth?”

“Yes, I do,” Dr. Deaton said, glaring down at the Nogitsune.

He grabbed a roll of duct tape and ripped off a medium-sized piece. The Nogitsune grinned, amused as ever, as Dr. Deaton stepped forward and pressed the piece of tape over his mouth.

The Nogitsune screamed, his voice muffled by the tape, his eyes glaring daggers at all of us. And then, like someone diagnosed with a bipolar disorder, he started giggling wildly.

After a couple of minutes of all of us standing in silence, carefully watching the Nogitsune, Melissa spoke up.

“I should clean his wound,” she offered. “before it gets infected.”

“Be careful, Mom,” Scott warned her as she stepped forward with a brown bottle of peroxide and some bandages.

Melissa nodded and Lydia, Dr. Deaton, Scott, and I migrated to the kitchen, which was just an archway over. Scott glanced at his mother and the Nogitsune worriedly.

“How much longer do you think we have?” I asked Dr. Deaton as Scott walked over to the table that Dr. Deaton, Lydia, and I were stationed around.

Dr. Deaton shrugged. “I wish I knew,” he confessed. “But if we don’t figure out something soon, we’re going to need to find a better place to keep him. I think we’re grossly underestimating the danger here,” he continued. “He might be paralyzed, but it still feels like he’s got us right in the palm of his hand.”

Scott, Lydia, and I looked over at the Nogitsune. He was sitting calmly on the couch, having not moved an inch, as Melissa cleaned his wound. His eyes were glaring at us, though, and I just knew that he could hear every word we spoke.

“Okay…” Lydia sighed, turning her back on him. “So what do we do?”

“The Shugendo Scroll said to change his body,” I reminded them.

“That’s if I translated it correctly,” Dr. Deaton argued. He sighed and continued, “We’re looking for a cure in something that might actually be nothing more than a proverb or a metaphor.”

“And what if he doesn’t want it?” Scott added, looking at me pointedly. “He’s never asked to be a werewolf.”

“What if it saves his life?” I retorted, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m sure Stiles would rather be a werewolf than be possessed by an evil fox spirit!”

“What if it kills him?” Dr. Deaton objected.

“I’ve never done this before,” Scott reminded me. “I mean, what if I bite him and accidentally hit an artery or something?”

“That venom is not going to last long,” Dr. Deaton warned us. “Something needs to be done sooner than later.”

Scott sighed and picked up his phone. “I can try calling Derek again.”

“Maybe we should call someone else,” Lydia suggested reluctantly.

Scott, Lydia, and I exchanged a series of looks, communicating silently. Our expressions ranged from raised eyebrows to narrowed eyes to pursed lips.

“Come on,” I whined as Scot finally nodded, consenting to Lydia calling Peter. “Do we really need that guy?”

“Yes,” Lydia and Scott said in unison.

The doorbell rang loudly throughout the house, around fifteen minutes after Lydia gave Peter Hale a call. Melissa was the one to answer the door and she led the psychotic werewolf into the living room.

Peter eyed the Nogitsune intently. “Is this what I’m here for?”

I sighed, frustrated with him already. “Just do whatever you’re going to do,” I snapped.

Peter rolled his eyes. “So touchy.”

He started to slowly walk around the couch, observing the Nogitsune, his eye flitting around as he took in the weary and damaged look of Stiles’ body. He hummed, his hands clasped behind his back, as he stopped in front of the Nogitsune.

“He doesn’t look like he would survive a bitch slap across the face, much less the bite of a werewolf,” Peter commented. He bent over, placing his hands against his knees to study the Nogitsune further. The Nogitsune looked back at him with cold, amused eyes.

“You don’t think it would work?” Scott asked, downtrodden.

“This is more a war of the mind than the body,” Peter informed us, standing up straight. “There are better methods to winning this battle.”

Dr. Deaton stepped forward, stopping at Peter’s side. “What kind of methods?”

Peter grabbed Scott’s arm and thrust it forward. Scott’s claws flicked out, causing the Nogitsune to look at them, grudgingly impressed.

“We’re going to into his head.”

“How do we do that?” I asked in response to Peter’s solution.

“There’s a ritual only an alpha can do,” Peter told everyone. “Scott, here, as an alpha, can get into someone’s head with the use of his claws.”

Melissa, Lydia, Scott, and I looked to Dr. Deaton for confirmation.

“It’s true,” Dr. Deaton nodded.

“Let’s do it, then,” Scott ordered.

“Lydia, Y/N,” Peter spoke up, gesturing with his head toward a secluded corner. “A word, please?”

Lydia and I—reluctantly—followed Peter away from Scott, Melissa, the Nogitsune, and Dr. Deaton. Once we were all crowded together, Peter spoke in a low tone.

“I want the name, Lydia,” he said. “You offered me a deal on the phone and I intend to collect.”

I looked on, confused, wondering what the hell was going on and why was I a part of this conversation.

“I’ll give you the name,” Lydia confirmed. “I said I would. But only if you help and—” she glanced over at Scott, who was watching over the Nogitsune. “—only if Scott doesn’t know about it.”

“Fine,” Peter agreed. He turned to me, then, and continued, “If Scott’s going to do this, then he needs someone to go with him. You, my dear Y/N, are that person.”

“May I ask why?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Well, not only do you have the certain…abilities…to help Scott, but your strong connection with Stiles will be important.” Peter explained clearly. “If anyone’s going to get through to Stiles, it’d be you and Scott.”

“Okay,” I nodded, agreeing easily. Anything to help Stiles. “Let’s go.”

The three of us walked back into the living room and stopped behind the couch.

“So,” Dr. Deaton spoke up, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do we have a plan?”

“Scott is going to try and dig through pale-and-sickly Evil Stiles’ mind to unearth pale-and-sickly Real Stiles,” Peter told everyone the plan. “Then he’ll guide him back from the depths of his own subconscious. But he’s not going to do it alone.”

Scott looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Somebody needs to go with you,” Peter said, turning his head toward me.

Everyone’s heads whipped to me, even the Nogitsune’s.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Scott asked me, his eyes conveying his worry.

“Yes,” I said firmly. “This is Stiles we’re talking about here.”

“Lydia will be helping Y/N on the outside,” Peter chimed in, trying to assure us. “Just in case she strays off the path. Lydia will be able to pull her back.”

I nodded and looked at Lydia, who smiled at me slightly and nodded. I knew that Lydia would never let me lose myself, even if it was in Stiles’ head.

“Let’s get started, then,” Dr. Deaton sighed.

Peter ushered me over to the couch and gestured for me to sit next to the Nogitsune. The Nogitsune’s eyes glinted as he looked at me and I just knew that under the duct tape covering his mouth, he was smirking like he always did.

After I was situated, Peter set Scott up behind the couch, in the middle of me and the Nogitsune so that he could reach the back of both of our necks.

“So what do we do if we find him?” Scott wondered.

I felt his sharp claws at the back of my neck and flinched, not looking forward to the pain I knew I was going to feel.

“It means you’re going to have to guide him out somehow,” Peter answered. “Try to give him back control of his mind, his body.”

“Could you tell us what you mean by ‘somehow’?” I asked, annoyed. “You’re being as vague as usual and I don’t really appreciate it.”

“Just improvise,” Peter advised.

Scott sighed deeply. “What if this is just another trick?”

“When are you people going to start trusting me?” Peter asked, a slight whine to his voice.

Lydia glared at him from her standing position in front of me. “He meant him,” she said, gesturing toward the Nogitsune.

“Oh.”

“Scott,” Dr. Deaton looked at him seriously. “We’re running out of time.”

Scott breathed in deeply and then there was a sharp sting at the back of my neck. I gasped in pain and closed my eyes.

I opened my eyes to see a white ceiling above me. There was a tightness across the top of my chest and around my wrists and ankles. Muffled whispers echoed and I looked around, startled to see that Scott was a bed next to me, restricted by leather straps. Scott looked at me in horror, so I knew that I was suffering the same fate.

I wriggled around and pulled at my restraints, trying to get them loose. I grunted with the effort and could hear Scott doing the same as we tried to get free. Nothing was working, though, especially since I didn’t have supernatural strength.

Wait a minute…

Scott exhaled in frustration and looked over at me, his eyes widening in surprise as he discovered that I was already looking at him.

“What?”

“Scott,” I sighed, frustrated at the lack of common sense the boy had sometimes. “You’re a fucking werewolf.”

“Yeah…?”

“Use your strength and bust out of these things!” I urged loudly, shaking my wrist restraints for emphasis.

“We’re in Stiles’ head,” Scott reminded me.

“So?” I rolled my eyes. “It doesn’t hurt to try, does it? Break free.”

Scott looked down at his wrist and his face twisted in concentration. He grunted as he arm shook and then, to my delight, his wrist restraint broke at the silver buckle. Scott sighed in relief and I laughed breathlessly.

After Scott wrangled free from the rest of his straps, he undid my restraints. I sat up and hopped off the bed, rubbing my wrists which were raw from struggling against the leather.

“What now?” Scott asked.

“I have no idea,” I sighed, shrugging delicately. “I’ve never been in someone else’s head before.”

“Just stay behind me,” he ordered, walking over to the door.

I followed behind him, watching as he entered through the doorway. Just as I was about to go after him, the door snapped shut. I gasped and grabbed the doorknob, shaking it wildly and trying to get it open.

“Scott?” I called, pounding on the door. “Scott!”

“Y/N.”

I turned around at the call of my name, my eyes widening as I took in my surroundings. The room had changed; instead of there being two beds where Scott and I had previously laid, there was a hulking hospital bed.

“Y/N.”

I eyes flicked up and met icy-blue ones, eyes that I hadn’t seen in months. My mother smiled at me and looked beside her. Suddenly my father was there, beaming at me. They were both wearing white clothes and their hair was neat and perfect. They looked much younger and healthier than the last time I saw them.

“Mom? Dad?” I asked weakly.

They didn’t respond…they continued to stare at me with maddening grins, their perfect teeth glistening. As we stood in silence for a few seconds, I came to the conclusion that it wasn’t either of them that had called my name.

“Stiles?” I called hopefully, turning around and pushing myself out of the hospital room.

The hallway I entered was clearly still a hospital, reminiscent of Beacon Hills Memorial. There were no nurses at the nurse's station and no patients in the rooms as I passed them.

I breathed shakily, feeling panicked. How was I going to get out of here?

A low grumbling voice caught my attention and I turned to see who was talking. A tall figure caught my attention. He was clearly male—I knew from the shape of his body and how tall he was—and was wearing a doctor’s lab coat. His head and hands were wrapped completely by dirty bandages. Only his mouth was visible, showing off sharp and pointed teeth.

This had to be the Nogitsune.

I turned away sharply, my breathing coming in panicked gasps as I started running down the hospital hallway. I needed to find Scott so we could get to Stiles. That was the goal.

“Y/N,” The grumbling voice called.

I looked behind me and let out a shriek as I discovered the Nogitsune calmly walking behind me.

“Stay away!” I warned him.

“Y/N!” A muffled voice boomed slightly, catching my attention. It wasn’t the Nogitsune. “You need to concentrate, Y/N!”

I stopped in my tracks and looked back to the Nogitsune, gasping as I realized that he was closer than he was before.

“Y/N!”

I startled at Lydia’s familiar scream and turned away from the Nogitsune, running again. To my surprise, a set of double doors greeted me. I reached out and pushed the bars, opening them.

I entered a large white room that looked to be the size of a warehouse. Florescent lights made the room bright and clean-looking. I looked around, confused, and then sighed in relief when I saw Scott running toward me.

“Look,” he said, pointing behind me.

I turned around and spotted the familiar sight of the large nemeton stump. The Nogitsune was crouched on it, this time wearing an old military jacket, looking down at what appeared to be some kind of chessboard. Sitting across from him, concentrating on the game before him and wearing his usual plaid button-up, was Stiles.

“Come on,” Scott said and he took off in a run toward the nemeton.

I ran after him, pushing my body to keep up with Scott’s quicker pace. I noticed that even in Stiles’ mind, running in heels was difficult, even if they weren’t the inconvenient type.

We ran for a couple minutes and I swear that the distance between us and Stiles was getting longer. Scott stopped abruptly and I paused, my chest heaving from lack of air. I bent slightly and placed my hands against my bare knees, breathing heavily.

“Stiles!” Scott called, his voice strangely muffled.

“Stiles!” I tried, standing up straight and waving my hands through the air, trying to get my boyfriend’s attention. “Stiles! Stiles, over here!”

Stiles didn’t move or react in any way, his eyes on the game he was playing with the Nogitsune that whole time.

“Try screaming,” Scott suggested, looking over at me.

I nodded, ready to try anything, and took a deep breath.

“STILES!”

My loud scream—that usually signaled death—echoed through the large room. Scott pressed his palms against his ears, wincing in pain. Stiles visibly twitched, his head cocking as he looked at the Nogitsune.

The Nogitsune growled and Stiles stilled.

“It didn’t work,” I breathed, my voice hoarse.

We needed some way of getting Stiles’ attention. If only there was a way to tell him we were here…some sort of signal…

And then an idea flitted through my head as I remembered all those months ago when Stiles and I were researching, getting ready to tell Scott about his lycanthropy. In packs—whether it was a real wolf pack or a werewolf pack—wolves howl to let the rest of them know their location.

Stiles was human, but it could still work. And it wouldn’t hurt to try.

“Stiles is part of your pack,” I spoke up, looking over at Scott.

“What?” He asked, turning to me, confused. “What do you mean?”

“He’s human,” I went on. “But he’s still part of the pack.”

“Yeah,” Scott nodded, looking over at Stiles. “Yeah, of course.”

“Remember that night when Stiles and I told you that you were a werewolf?” I prompted. “That to signal their location to the rest of the pack, wolves—”

“Howl,” Scott cut me off in realization, his chocolate-brown eyes wide as he looked down at me.

I nodded and gestured toward the nemeton. The Nogitsune turned his bandage-covered head toward us and bared his sharp teeth in warning. Scott transitioned easily, his teeth becoming sharper, his claws growing into points, his eyes glowing crimson-red.

A loud roar erupted from his mouth, making the fine hair on my arms stand up. Stiles slowly turned his head away from the Nogitsune and looked at us for a few seconds. I held my breath, hopeful that this was what we were supposed to do.

Stiles turned his gaze back to the Nogitsune, and for a second, I lost hope that we had succeeded. But then Stiles raised his hands and swiftly and firmly brushed the game pieces off the board.

The Nogitsune roared in fury.

I gasped, taking in a much-needed breath as my eyes opened. We were back in Scott’s living room; Lydia was kneeling in front of me, while Peter, Melissa, and Dr. Deaton were standing back, looking on worriedly.

A sharp ache in the back of my neck made me groan; I reached up and placed my hand where Scott’s claws had been previously and felt the tell-tale wetness of blood coating my flesh.

“Did it work?” Scott asked frantically, walking around the couch to look down at Stiles. “Did it work?”

I got up from my spot on the couch and turned around, looking at Stiles nervously. “What happened?” I asked Lydia.

Lydia looked worried and turned to Peter. “Why didn’t it work?” she asked him fiercely.

“Because it’s not science, Lydia,” Peter replied, grabbing her arm. “It’s supernatural. I did my part, now give me the name.”

“What name?” Scott spoke up, looking over at Lydia and Peter suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”

“Uh—"

“Lydia, a deal is a deal,” Peter reminded her. “Even with me.”

Lydia grabbed Peter and walked a few steps away, presumably to tell Peter about Malia Tate being his daughter. Scott looked over at them, narrowing his eyes as Lydia whispered into Peter’s ear.

At that moment, Stiles moved, grunting loudly. We all turned toward him, backing away just in case it was the Nogitsune.

He reached up and ripped the duct tape off of his mouth before gagging loudly. A wet piece of bandage came out of his mouth, and as he grabbed it, it kept coming in a continuous strand.

It was frankly disgusting and I cringed as Stiles leaped from the couch and fell on his hands and knees to the floor. He retched noisily as the bandage kept coming out, with a weird black substance that looks like mist coming along with it.

As the last of the bandage came out, Stiles gasped deeply, slobber dripping from his mouth. He crawled away from the pile of bandages, looking horrified.

I could see why: a bandaged hand reached out of the pile of wet bandages, coming out of the black mist. I had no idea what was happening because it seemed like there was a body coming from the floor, which didn’t seem possible.

And then a bandaged head appeared, a military-jacket-covered torso and arms coming next. What I assumed to be the Nogitsune continued to materialize from the pile of bandages, as Stiles looked on a few feet away, leaning against the couch.

The Nogitsune stood up in front of us and ran his bandaged hand over his covered head. He took a staggering step forward, causing Lydia to let out a short, but terrified, scream.

I stepped to the side as Peter and Scott rushed forward and tackled the Nogitsune, forcing him onto the couch. The Nogitsune struggled against their grips.

“Hold him!” Peter growled at Scott.

“I’m trying!” Scott replied through gritted teeth.

Dr. Deaton and Lydia stepped forward, then, going to help the werewolves keep the Nogitsune planted on the couch.

A warm and calloused hand suddenly clamped itself down on my mouth, muffling my startled gasp. I looked at Stiles, horrified and confused. He smirked down at me, a malevolent look in his eyes. And then he was forcefully pulling me toward the door, easily overpowering my struggles.

As we exited the house, Stiles smirked wickedly. “I told you I’d be back for you, sweetheart.”

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