#emotionally hurt Martin

[annabelle--cane]

my problem as a nuancepilled s5chad is that I am really compelled by all the ways jon and martin keep winding up hurting each other and the ways in which their relationship is dysfunctional, but unless I am very clear in my intent then I get people who think they agree with me coming into my notes/inbox to say "yeah, it's a bad/poorly written relationship and they're just bad for each other," which isn't quite what I'm trying to say.

I think these are two very unwell people with intensely varying levels of self-awareness, but they also have a strong, heartfelt commitment to each other and appear to really enjoy spending time together, and if, for example, the safehouse period had stretched on forever, they would have had a successful if sometimes very emotionally taxing relationship. I think they both royally screwed up a few times during the apocalypse, and that that was basically inevitable given the environment, and that they showed a willingness to communicate, reconcile, and change. but also they were ultimately the center piece of a tragedy narrative so they were never going to have the chance to actually Become Healthy.

idk, I see where "they're a toxic couple and need to break up" as a take is coming from and I respect having it, but to me it feels the same as saying that romeo and juliet were a toxic couple. nah mate, the tragedy isn't that they're bad for each other, it's that they could have worked out under almost any other circumstances, but they live in a world where that was never going to be possible.

[ingravinoveritas]

Lovely new article about Michael in Paste magazine. Article is behind a paywall, so here is a transcription (with thanks to the person on FB who transcribed it, and the parts in bold are my own emphasis).

There’s so much to love about Prime Video’s Good Omens. A delightful adaptation of the popular Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett novel of the same name, the series is romantic, thoughtful, hilarious, and heartfelt by turns. The story of the almost-apocalypse and what comes afterward, it wrestles with big concepts like destiny, free will, and forgiveness, all framed through the lens of an unorthodox relationship between an angel and a demon whose love for one another is a key to saving the world.

As anyone who has watched Good Omens already knows, nothing about this series works without the pair of lead performances at its center. Stars David Tennant and Michael Sheen—who play the demon Crowley and the angel Aziraphale, respectively—have the kind of lighting-in-a-bottle chemistry that’s the stuff of legend, and their characters�� every interaction conveys both their deep affection for one another and the Earth they’ve made their home. Their romance is the emotional linchpin around which most of the series turns, and their heartbreaking separation in the Season 2 finale is so devastating precisely because we’ve seen how necessary the two are to each other’s lives.

But it’s Sheen’s performance in that final scene that really twists the knife. As Aziraphale’s face crumples following his and Crowley’s long-awaited kiss, the actor manages to convey what feels like every possible human emotion in the span of less than thirty seconds as the angel realizes what he has both had and just lost. The moment is emotionally brutal to watch, particularly after sitting through five and a half episodes of Aziraphale looking as lovestruck as the lead in any rom-com. Sheen makes it all look effortless, shifting from giddy joy to devastated longing and everything in between, and we really don’t talk enough about how powerful and underrated his work in this series truly is.

Though he’s half of the central duo that makes Good Omens tick, Sheen’s role often tends to get overshadowed by his co-star’s. It’s not difficult to see why, given that Tennant gets to spend most of the show swanning around in tight trousers looking like the Platonic ideal of the charming bad boy, complete with flaming red hair and dramatic eyewear. Tennant also benefits from Crowley’s much more sympathetic emotional arc. I mean, it’s hard not to love a cynical demon with a heart of gold who’s been pining after his angelic best friend for literal millennia even after being cast out from Heaven. Of course, viewers are drawn to that—likely a lot more easily than the story of an angel who’s simply trying the best he can to do the right thing as he wrestles with his role in God’s Ineffable Plan. Plus, let’s be real, Tennant’s sizeable Doctor Who fanbase certainly doesn’t hurt his character’s popularity.

As a performer, Sheen has a long history of playing both real people (Tony Blair, David Frost, Brian Clough) and offbeat villains (Prodigal Son’s Martin Whitly, Underworld’s Lucian, the Twilight Saga’s Aro). In some ways, the role of a fussy, bookish angel is playing more than a bit against type for him—Gaiman himself has said he originally intended for Sheen to be Crowley—but in his capable hands, Aziraphale becomes something much more than a simple avatar for the forces of Good (or even of God, for that matter). With a soft demeanor and a positively blinding smile, Sheen’s take on the character consistently radiates warmth and goodness, even as it contains surprisingly hidden depths. The former guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden who gifted a fleeing Adam and Eve his flaming sword and befriended the Serpent who caused their Fall, Azirphale isn’t a particularly conventional angel. He enjoys all-too-human indulgences like food and wine, runs a Hoarders-esque bookshop that never seems to sell anything, and spends most of his time making heart eyes at the being that’s meant to be his hereditary adversary.

Given the much more difficult task of playing the literal angel to Tennant’s charming devil, Sheen must find a way to make ideas like goodness and forgiveness as interesting and fun to watch as their darker counterparts. It’s a generally thankless task, but one that Sheen tackles with gusto, particularly in the series’ second season, as Good Omens explores Aziraphale’s slowly evolving idea of what he can and cannot accept in terms of being a soldier of Heaven. His growing understanding that the truth of creation is colored in shades of grey and compromise is often conveyed through little more than Sheen’s deftly shifting expressions and body language.

Our pop culture consistently struggles to portray the idea of goodness as something compelling or worth watching. Explicitly “good” characters, particularly those who are religiously coded, are frequently treated as the butt of some sort of unspoken joke they aren’t in on, used to underline the idea that faith is a form of naivety or that kindness is somehow a weakness. For a lot of people, the entire concept of turning the other cheek is a sucker’s bet, and believing in something greater than oneself, be it a higher power or a sense of purpose, is a waste of time. But Good Omens is a story grounded in the idea that faith, hope, and love—for one another, God, and the entire world—are active verbs. And nowhere is that more apparent than in Sheen’s characterization of the soft angel whose old-fashioned waistcoats mask a spine of steel and who refuses to give up—on Crowley, on humanity, or on the idea that Heaven is still something that can be saved.

Though he and Tennant have pretty much become a matched set at this point (both on and off-screen), Sheen’s performance has rarely gotten the critical accolades it deserves. (Tennant alone was nominated for a BAFTA for Season 2, and Sheen was categorized as a supporting actor when the series’ competed in the 2019 Saturn Awards.) But it is his quiet strength that holds up so much of the rest of the show around him, and Sheen deserves to be more frequently recognized for it. That he makes it look so easy is just another sign of how good his performance really is.

I love this so much. The thoroughly well-deserved praise for Michael's incredible performance as Aziraphale, but also that Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship is specifically described as a "romance." And of course, the first sentence of the last paragraph that acknowledges how much Michael and David are indeed a "matched set" that cannot (and should not) be separated...

[o-lanterns]

Simon Petrikov the Episode... I know Simon's the star but I can't stop thinking about Finn.

Seeing firsthand just how badly his grief over Jake has messed him up. All of his progress in emotionally connecting with himself and with others essentially went down the drain. He can't process anything outside of the lens of epic questing. His idea to help Simon is to put the man in mortal danger for the purpose of rescuing him and never once considered that Simon could be seriously injured or killed, because of course Finn the Human is too strong! This is nothing to him, his job is to fight and protect. And when Simon does actually get hurt Finn shrugs it off. Ahh, that's just another battle wound, nothing fatal! It'll be a cool scar!

He is literally not coping but he thinks he's doing great. And it breaks my heart that it's all so... Martin-like of him. He cannot have back what he lost and he responds by bottling it and pushing through jovially as if unaffected, and in turn does not register anything as a true threat anymore because in his eyes nothing could be worse than what has already happened. He is all jokes and rowdy hubris and "Hey now, talkin' about sad stuff gets ya nowhere! Forget about it!"

Finn is just living thrill to thrill and clinging to distractions in between (and trying to find someone to fill the hole where Jake was- we saw him taking on Bronwyn as an adventure partner in Obsidian and now TV. but they don't stick. it's never going to be the same.) and we already know from Together Again that he will maintain this behavior until his last breath.

It's fantastic character writing but I am so distraught at the state of my boy.

[hanahanumana]

From AnaMaria Abramovic on Fb

Paste magazine has done an article about Michael and how underrated he is in Good Omens and I found a transcript since it's behind a paywall. Here's the link if anyone wants to subscribe. 💙

https://www.pastemagazine.com/tv/amazon-prime-video/good-omens-michael-sheen-underrated-performance-explained-streaming

There’s so much to love about Prime Video’s Good Omens. A delightful adaptation of the popular Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett novel of the same name, the series is romantic, thoughtful, hilarious, and heartfelt by turns. The story of the almost-apocalypse and what comes afterward, it wrestles with big concepts like destiny, free will, and forgiveness, all framed through the lens of an unorthodox relationship between an angel and a demon whose love for one another is a key to saving the world.

As anyone who has watched Good Omens already knows, nothing about this series works without the pair of lead performances at its center. Stars David Tennant and Michael Sheen—who play the demon Crowley and the angel Aziraphale, respectively—have the kind of lighting-in-a-bottle chemistry that’s the stuff of legend, and their characters’ every interaction conveys both their deep affection for one another and the Earth they’ve made their home. Their romance is the emotional linchpin around which most of the series turns, and their heartbreaking separation in the Season 2 finale is so devastating precisely because we’ve seen how necessary the two are to each other’s lives.

But it’s Sheen’s performance in that final scene that really twists the knife. As Aziraphale’s face crumples following his and Crowley’s long-awaited kiss, the actor manages to convey what feels like every possible human emotion in the span of less than thirty seconds as the angel realizes what he has both had and just lost. The moment is emotionally brutal to watch, particularly after sitting through five and a half episodes of Aziraphale looking as lovestruck as the lead in any rom-com. Sheen makes it all look effortless, shifting from giddy joy to devastated longing and everything in between, and we really don’t talk enough about how powerful and underrated his work in this series truly is.

Though he’s half of the central duo that makes Good Omens tick, Sheen’s role often tends to get overshadowed by his co-star’s. It’s not difficult to see why, given that Tennant gets to spend most of the show swanning around in tight trousers looking like the Platonic ideal of the charming bad boy, complete with flaming red hair and dramatic eyewear. Tennant also benefits from Crowley’s much more sympathetic emotional arc. I mean, it’s hard not to love a cynical demon with a heart of gold who’s been pining after his angelic best friend for literal millennia even after being cast out from Heaven. Of course, viewers are drawn to that—likely a lot more easily than the story of an angel who’s simply trying the best he can to do the right thing as he wrestles with his role in God’s Ineffable Plan. Plus, let’s be real, Tennant’s sizeable Doctor Who fanbase certainly doesn’t hurt his character’s popularity.

As a performer, Sheen has a long history of playing both real people (Tony Blair, David Frost, Brian Clough) and offbeat villains (Prodigal Son’s Martin Whitly, Underworld’s Lucian, the Twilight Saga’s Aro). In some ways, the role of a fussy, bookish angel is playing more than a bit against type for him—Gaiman himself has said he originally intended for Sheen to be Crowley—but in his capable hands, Aziraphale becomes something much more than a simple avatar for the forces of Good (or even of God, for that matter). With a soft demeanor and a positively blinding smile, Sheen’s take on the character consistently radiates warmth and goodness, even as it contains surprisingly hidden depths. The former guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden who gifted a fleeing Adam and Eve his flaming sword and befriended the Serpent who caused their Fall, Azirphale isn’t a particularly conventional angel. He enjoys all-too-human indulgences like food and wine, runs a Hoarders-esque bookshop that never seems to sell anything, and spends most of his time making heart eyes at the being that’s meant to be his hereditary adversary.

Given the much more difficult task of playing the literal angel to Tennant’s charming devil, Sheen must find a way to make ideas like goodness and forgiveness as interesting and fun to watch as their darker counterparts. It’s a generally thankless task, but one that Sheen tackles with gusto, particularly in the series’ second season, as Good Omens explores Aziraphale’s slowly evolving idea of what he can and cannot accept in terms of being a soldier of Heaven. His growing understanding that the truth of creation is colored in shades of grey and compromise is often conveyed through little more than Sheen’s deftly shifting expressions and body language.

Our pop culture consistently struggles to portray the idea of goodness as something compelling or worth watching. Explicitly “good” characters, particularly those who are religiously coded, are frequently treated as the butt of some sort of unspoken joke they aren’t in on, used to underline the idea that faith is a form of naivety or that kindness is somehow a weakness. For a lot of people, the entire concept of turning the other cheek is a sucker’s bet, and believing in something greater than oneself, be it a higher power or a sense of purpose, is a waste of time. But Good Omens is a story grounded in the idea that faith, hope, and love—for one another, God, and the entire world—are active verbs. And nowhere is that more apparent than in Sheen’s characterization of the soft angel whose old-fashioned waistcoats mask a spine of steel and who refuses to give up—on Crowley, on humanity, or on the idea that Heaven is still something that can be saved.

Though he and Tennant have pretty much become a matched set at this point (both on and off-screen), Sheen’s performance has rarely gotten the critical accolades it deserves. (Tennant alone was nominated for a BAFTA for Season 2, and Sheen was categorized as a supporting actor when the series’ competed in the 2019 Saturn Awards.) But it is his quiet strength that holds up so much of the rest of the show around him, and Sheen deserves to be more frequently recognized for it. That he makes it look so easy is just another sign of how good his performance really is.

[mad-scientist-enthusiast]

Rant about Jedidiah Martin because I'm getting brain worms...

Jedidiah knows love from his upbringing, which is why his favorite game growing up was "playing house." Jedidiah practiced his mother's example of parenthood on his "children;" that being keeping them close by and admiring them, but neglecting them nonetheless. Sydney's comment about the fruit fly really captures this dynamic.

"It hadn't even occurred to him. He'd gotten up every morning and admired that starving animal, throwing itself against the walls of its container. Hadn't even thought to put a little piece of cantaloupe in there. And his beloved fly died hungry, empty, trapped, and alone."

Jedidiah is very dependent on his mother. He still lives with her, he relies on her protection to handle everything he cannot. Despite this, Lucille always keeps him at arms length and never any closer. She has this weirdly detached style of parenting, where she needs Jedidiah close in proximity, but not close emotionally. And Jedidiah mirrors this in his relationship with Sydney.

I think Jedidiah really does love Sydney, however, the only way he knows how to treat Sydney is the way his mother treated him.

He keeps Sydney close, essentially trapping him at the Camp, and admires him from afar. He does a lot to ensure Sydney's physical safety, sure, but this is done so with minimal interaction with him. Sydney is his fruit fly. He loves Sydney, and ultimately does not want Sydney to die, but he is doing nothing to nourish their relationship. I think he almost views Sydney's state of being "alive" as the physical act of living. He is breathing, his body is functioning. But being alive is much more than that. His clinical approach to their relationship is the reason why he doesn't seem to conceptualize how much he's hurt Sydney. And only when he starts to feel hurt by Lucille's treatment of him does he realize he's put Sydney in the same position.

It's almost as if Lucille and Jedidiah don't entirely view the subject of their "love" as a separate, autonomous human being.

It almost reminds me of the like "Teaching STEM without the humanities" memes. Jedidiah has no reference for an emotional connection with other people, so when he wants to be in a relationship with someone, it results in this dynamic we see between him and Sydney.

[cheesecakeluver]

AT FIRST GLANCE

hamzahthefantastic x reader

ᶻ𐰁 ࣪ °⋆ when you arrive in Toronto, after three years from home, you meet with your close friend Mandy, who has a visitor that you know, at first glance, is bound to be yours.

———————-

As the taxi slows, i find that my stomach turns and churns in excitement. The idea that now, after three years, ill see Mandy again, after being apart for so, so long, enthralls me. We constantly facetimed and messaged after i had to move, for work purposes. Los Angeles was a great city, but once you really got settled and started to understand life there.. it made you miserable. Thankfully, my work as a journalist had moved me back to Toronto, and i could finally see my friends and family.

I retrieve my heavy suitcases from the boot of the car, thanking the driver and sending him away with a twenty dollar bill. I don't think i'll ever get over the price differences between Canada and the USA. I stand outside Mandy's place, which she shared with her boyfriend, Martin. Of course, i'd heard all about him, because as soon as i moved away, they met. She updated me on every date, every exciting occasion, and every detail of their lives together, including his youtube channel, whom he shared with a friend unknown to me, though Mandy constantly called him clingy and annoying, which left me laughing.

I knock on the door, one, twice, and then thrice. I see a figure moving towards the door, and i get excited, recording the whole moment with an old camera. I'd recently started youtube myself, and had had a good amount of luck, my first two videos not exactly blowing up, but doing pretty well for my first time. I see the figure head towards the door, and i shove the camera in front of me, my smile wide, grinning even.

The figure opens the door, and i'm stunned. It was in fact, not Mandy i was met with, who stood at 5,4. No, this was a nearly six foot tall, dark curly haired man, who looked like he'd just gotten out of bed.

"Uh.. who are you?" he mumbled, wiping his dark curls out of his face, pushing his rectangular glasses up on the bridge of his nose, his chocolate brown eyes widening as he stared deadpan at me.

i pull the camera down to my side, revealing my face as my smile drops. i stutter a little, taking a step back. Had i went to the wrong address?

"Does Mandy live here?" i asked nervously, my concern become increasingly evident on my face. I was never good at hiding my emotions.

"Oh, yeah. She said something about someone coming over today. Just didn't mention who." The man said, his eyebrows unfurling as the confusion fled his face, allowing me to view him more. He was attractive, and even i couldn't deny that, as i stared into his dark eyes. The worry wiped off my face as he opened the door wider, allowing me to step into the home, where Mandy was snuggled into Martin's side, a blanket over them on the couch, as i heard the nostalgic theme of 'Gilmore Girls' playing on the tv.

I smile, leaving my bags by the door as i hear Mandy ask whose at the door, until her eyes land across me. She screams, ditching Martins arms and she runs to me, hugging me and jumping with glee spread across her face. I hold her in my arms, happily.

"I've been waiting for you to arrive!" she says, pulling away from the embrace, still smiling so hard i believe it must hurt. "That's Hamzah, by the way, the one who answered the door. He's the one who does the podcast, and youtube with Martin" She explains, babbling on about what the boys did. I listened eagerly, intrigued, as she told me about this podcast, which i'd never known of before. She asks me how i am, knowing how hard Los Angeles hit me, leaving me emotionally drained.

"I'm excited to be back in Toronto, really. I've been wanting to come back ever since i left. Los Angeles was.. alright at first, but god, once you really get settled, and begin actually connecting.." i sigh, drifting off. The people that inhabited Los Angeles, were just not the people i was made for, and oh how glad i was to be back in Toronto. Back home. I look around, impressed at the new house they'd just moved in to, which now looked like a home due to the decorum, as i see dinner bowls lying around.

Martin cleans them up, putting them in the sink and introducing himself. "Sorry, we just ate.. probably should've cleaned that up earlier." he jokes, wrapping an arm around Mandy.

The whole time, the boy i know now as Hamzah had just been by the door, his keys in hand. i came to the conclusion he must have just been heading out when i arrived.

He jingles the keys in his hand, grabbing my attention. He looks a little nervous, his eyes darting around. "I'm gonna head out, it was good meeting you.." he says, finally looking at me, smiling, his hands in his pockets. He lingers on, and i catch the hint he wanted my name.

"Oh, y/n" i smiled, a little flustered as his eyes remained steady on me, a glint in them. I found myself drawn to him, even though this was our first meeting.

Mandy turns to me, Martins arm still wrapped around her. "We were just going out, for ice cream, if you wanted to join us?" she smiles at me, Martins arm rubbing hers and he stared at her, entranced.

I think about it, but ultimately decide against it, as i had ate the shitty food served on the airplane, and felt as though my stomach deserved a break after. That, and i wasn't in the mood to become a third wheel, especially as jet lagged as i was.

"I need to sort through the boxes as well, get my apartment into living conditons, but thank you guys, i appreciate it." i say, thanking the couple in front of me.

"Call me tomorrow though, we'll meet up then?" i ask, and Mandy nods, smiling. "Of course! Im so, so happy your home. Atleast now i've got someone to hang out with when these two are filming. Ooh, and maybe even double dates, and-"

Hamzah coughs loudly, interrupting her, and their eyes land on each other, and something, almost like realisation, hits Mandy.

I look between the pair, an awkward silence filling the room, as the four of us just looked at our feet.

I knew Hamzah had been there a couple of times when i had been facetiming Mandy, as i heard him and Martin in the background, but i never thought anything of it.

I pull my phone out, prepared to call another taxi, and head out of here, as i gather my bags and suitcase by the door.

"Anybody know how much a taxi from here to Parkson street costs?" i ask, breaking the silence

Martin speaks up immediately, as if snapping out of a trance.

"Hamzah, don't you live near Parkson street?" he asks the boy, who averts his gaze from mine, eyes focused now on Martin, as a pink blush cascades over his caramel skin, slightly covered by the messy curls strewn on top of his head.

"Yeah, i live on Parkson street" He replies, and i see Martin wink at him, before he speaks again.

"Oh, okay yeah, do you need a ride?" Hamzah says, eyes on mine as i see his hands fiddle inside of his pockets, causing me to smile.

"Yeah.. thank you. Really, your helping me out a a lot here." i blush slightly as he helps me with a couple of my bags, and our hands brush together, my face heating up, as does his.

"Really, you don't have to-" i say, prepared to take the bag, as he shakes his head in defiance, which leaves me to sigh, smiling as i do.

"I could see you struggling when you first arrived, let me help you" He says, picking the bags i struggled with up easily, impressing me as his biceps bulged whilst doing the action, causing me to stare.

Martin interrupts us, as he begins saying his farewells to Hamzah. I make my way over to Mandy, one last time, knowing ill meet her tomorrow.

"Call me tonight, and tell me everything" she says, with that knowing look in her eye, causing me to softly chuckle as i embrace her again.

We part ways with Mandy and Martin, saying goodbye to the pair as they began to get ready to get dessert. I smile at the couple as i leave with Hamzah, wishing i had the type of relationship they had, watching them laugh and cuddle and kiss. In my dreams i guess.

As Hamzah walks me to his car, we begin small talk. He asks about my life back in Los Angeles, and i tell him about my journalism and my small channel, as he told me of his podcast. He seemed passionate about it, using his hands as he spoke, and all i could do was become entranced by him. I had met this boy less than twenty minutes ago, yet already he had caught me attention, and by the looks of it, i had caught his.

"I originally started the podcast by myself, and did around.. i think thirty or so episodes before Martin joined. Honestly, its much better when your not just speaking by yourself, to a camera." He explained, hooking me in with every word he uttered.

"I guess i can kind of understand. When i film, so far, its always been by myself. My job as well, it gets lonely, because journalism isn't a very.. i don't know.. social type of job. Sure, I sit and write about all the things i love, but sometimes i just wish i had someone to talk to about my interests, instead of people just reading my words via a news outlet, or magazine."

i let out my thoughts, feeling slightly vulnerable when doing so. Hamzah watches me talk, allowing me to explain what's on my mind, and for the first time in a long time, i feel seen.

"Listen, i know we just met, but honestly, i feel like i know you already. I'm here if you ever need someone to talk to, even if its just about the stupid stuff." He says, a little shyly, rubbing the back of his neck as he speaks. I find myself walking close beside him, and we continue talking back and forth, all the way to his car.

Once we reach his car, he opens the door for me, and just when i'm strapped in, does he make his way to the drivers side, causing a feeling of warmth to erupt in my stomach.

Getting in, he sets his phone on my lap, smiling. "Since your a guest, i'll trust you to pick something good" he says, as i notice spotify opened infront of me.

It nearly made me melt, as i saw his recent listens. "Men i trust, Freddie Dredd, The maria's.. you have good taste" i smile, seeing some artist that we have in common.

I see him smile warmly, staring at the phone as i type my favourite song in, hoping, no, praying he would like it.

"Bags by Clairo.. you have good taste" He replies, copying me, as the song begins to filter through the car, and i hum lightly to it.

entranced by the music, and the feeling of content flowing through me, i rest my head against the window, taking in autumnal Toronto in all its beauty, realising just how much i had missed this place.

I feel Hamzah's eyes on me, and i turn to him, a grin erupting from me without my consent, as his curls fall into his eyes, and his hands mark the wheel.

We continue the rest of the ride in silence, the only thing heard is Clairo's majestic voice through the speakers, and both of us are okay with that. Upon arriving at Parkson street, i feel a little disappointed, missing Hamzah's banter and voice already, even though we hadn't parted from each other yet. I needed to get a grip on myself.

We get out, still walking close to each other, our arms brushing against one anothers, and begin walking back to our apartments, noticing we both strode in the same direction.

"Hamzah, what apartment number is yours? Not to be a creep or anything.." i joke, seeing his eyes light up.

"I'm 112.. what about you?"

I feel myself smile, pink flushing my cheeks, and not just due to the autumn chill in the air. We stop outside of his apartment, and he sees where my gaze lies, his cheeks flushing as well.

"I'm apartment 113” i say, grinning, our proximity exciting me like nothing before. maybe, just maybe this meant i did have a chance. endless excuses we’re running through my mind, thinking of ways i could interact with him on the daily.

He smiles, walking me to my door and setting the suitcases and bags in my doorstep, his cheeks tinted pink, and his eyes on me the entire time, looking me up and down with ease.

He smiles at me, one last time. "I'll see you around, y/n" he says, walking the two paces to his apartment, next door. My heart fluttered, and the minute i go inside of my new apartment, i jumped on the bare mattress, not caring about the unboxed suitcases and bags, picking up my phone and dialing my best friend.

"Mandy, i think i’m starting to like him."

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

[artiststarme]

Come to Poppa

Based on a prompt sent to me awhile ago from @yaoiprofessoryuki. I'm sorry it took so long but I hope you like it!

~*~*~*~

Steve was never close to his dad, not like a father or son should be. They never played catch in the front yard or camped out in the woods. They certainly never talked about sports or girls. The closest they ever got was performing elementary science experiments at the kitchen table until his mother scolded them both over their own laughter. One day though, everything changed. Out of nowhere, Steve became less of a son and more like a roommate that coexisted in the same house.They lived in the same house and their paths intermittently crossed when they were both in the house at the same time, but their relationship was gone. 

Nevertheless, all Steve wanted after fighting the demogorgons with the kids was to see his dad. He craved the comfort that only a dad could give through all-consuming hugs and emotionally stunted advice. His dad was a scientist, surely he could ask him just what the fuck those monsters were. If anyone could understand, his dad would. 

But after waiting up all night and into the next day, his dad didn’t come home. His secretary didn’t pick up the phone when he called and the hospital had no records of him. His dad was just gone, disappeared just like all the evidence of the demogorgons. Steve’s mom filed a missing persons report with the Sheriff’s office but even their investigations were moot. It was like his dad fell off the face of the earth. 

***

After their 1984 encounter and getting the absolute shit kicked out of him by Billy, the kids start hanging out at his house. His mom had taken to leaving for weeks at a time at the drop of a hat to avoid thinking about his father and Steve was climbing the walls in order to escape some of the oppressive loneliness that the house seemed to ooze. He thought the kids would find it fun to have a big house to themselves to make a mess in and just be kids away from the responsibilities of the Upside Down. He was wrong. 

Eleven froze as soon as the door swung shut behind her, her eyes on the family portrait that hung in the living room. In it was a sixteen year old Steve, his mother in her nicest dress, and his graying dad. It was one of the last pictures that they all looked happy in. But Eleven wasn’t looking at the picture in happiness or curiosity, she was looking at it in horror.

“El? What’s wrong, what’s going on?” Mike stood between her and the photo, his hand comfortingly rested on her shoulder.

All the kids surrounded her and Steve just followed her gaze and looked at her in confusion. When Dustin saw him looking back and forth, he snuck a peek before his eyes widened in sudden realization. “Holy shit, guys! Look at the picture! Steve, how the hell do you know Dr. Brenner?”

Steve’s eyes scrunched in confusion, “what? I don’t know a Dr. Brenner.”

“There’s a picture of the two of you right there!” Lucas flailed his arm towards another picture of the two of them in black suits at his cousin’s wedding. 

“And right there,” Max added, pointing at a picture of Steve holding a report card with straight A’s and his dad beaming with pride to his left.

“That’s not Dr. Brenner, that’s my dad. Martin Harrington, not a Brenner,” he said while rolling his eyes in exasperation. The imagination of these kids was going to make him lose his mind one day. 

“No, papa.”

“Eleven, that’s not the man that hurt you. That’s my dad. He was boring and dorky, he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Papa!”

“I think she would know who experimented on her for years,” Lucas said, rolling his eyes. 

“Not if she thinks it's my dad!” Steve was really reaching his limits. He’d just wanted the kids to have fun for a day, he hadn’t expected slander against his dad. 

“What if it's the same person? Your dad and Dr. Brenner,” Dustin pondered. 

Steve just shook his head. “There’s no way, my dad worked at the Department of Energy for the government. He ran research experiments on electricity and water and shit. He never worked with kids!” 

“The Department of Energy was just a cover up for the experiments on kids!” Mike screamed.

That was the last line for El. As soon as Mike raised his voice, she flinched and threw the family portrait to the ground with a flick of her wrist. The frame splintered and the glass shattered upon contact with the fireplace tile. Most disturbingly to Steve though was the long tear in the photo separating his dad from him and his mom. An unfortunately positioned shard of glass had separated his dad from his family in the portrait just as an unknown force had in reality. 

“Hey! That’s one of the last pictures I have of him! He disappeared last year and you just ruined our last picture together. Fuck Eleven, he’s not your papa.” Steve dropped to his knees next to the broken frame without regard for the glass and fretted his hands over the portrait. 

“He’s a monster!” El yelled, an accusing finger pointed directly at the ruined canvas in his hands. All of the pictures on the walls fell to the floor with a deafening crash. In a single moment, all remnants of his dad were erased from the living room. 

“No! You’re ruining everything, stop! My dad was just a nerd that loved science. He might’ve been a little strict about grades but other than that, he’s a good guy!”

“Steve, we are telling you that that is Dr. Brenner. I don’t know why he has a different name at work or why you don’t know what he did at work but it is him. We met him last year and he’s missing because… Well, we’re pretty sure El killed him or at least really hurt him. That’s why he didn’t come back.” Dustin delivered the news as gently as possible but his words still registered like a knife in the back. 

“What.”

Suddenly, Steve saw everything differently. The missed basketball games, the unexplained absences and late nights at work, the weird interest in his experiments. It felt like the loving dad that he grew up with was a stranger he never knew at all. The kids didn’t seem to notice his shock or the fact that they had just ruined his life. They continued arguing amongst themselves until Steve tuned back in. 

“What if Steve knew about it? For all we know, he could've had a part in it! Maybe that’s why he wanted to join the Party. He could be reporting back to Dr. Brenner right now!” Mike ranted. Jesus Christ, Steve hated that kid.

“You really think Steve had something to do with it? I’m pretty sure he’s failing at least three classes right now. There is no way someone would use him as an accomplice in a conspiracy this big,” Dustin shook his head and sent a wink at Steve as if he was defending him. But Steve didn’t take it that way. 

They knew about his dad’s disappearance and were now insulting him? Fucking shit, he’d risked everything for these kids; his reputation, his old friends, his relationship with Nancy, his life! And they still doubted him and saw him as an idiot. They saw him as a traitor that would work as an accomplice to torture other kids. Fuck it. 

“Get out.”

“Steve, Mike didn’t mean-”

He cut Lucas off with a glare. “Get out! I don’t want you here. Just get out!”

They all walked out with varying degrees of guilt until Steve was left alone with nothing to do but look at the ruined family portrait with its shards of broken glass and cry about the injustice of it all.

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[sapphic-agent]

Why is Simon able to see Maddie?

I've been thinking about it for a while, and I think I might have an answer.

*SPOILERS AHEAD*

Let's start with what I don't think it is. I'm 99% sure that it's not because Simon's dying. There's speculation that he has a tumor or undiagnosed cancer causing him to slowly die and that's why he's able to see Maddie. But I have two issues with that:

Why is he only able to see Maddie? If him approaching death is what enables him to see and talk with a ghost, why is that only extended to one ghost? At the very least, wouldn't he have some kind of connection with the other ghosts? Maybe if not outright seeing them, then sensing their presence or something? But he's never given any indication they're there, we've seen that. If he was dying, he'd have a connection to the entire metaphysical plane, not just Maddie.

Why does he only start seeing her at that exact moment in season 1? If he was dying, wouldn't it have been sooner? Maddie was "dead" for three days before Simon saw her. And it was only at this specific time that he was able to do so.

What this tells me is that this isn't possible because of anything from Simon's end. Or, not completely from his end.

To answer this question, we need to look at the only other instance of a living person and ghost interacting. What enabled Maddie to see Janet and Mr. Martin arguing? What allowed Janet to steal Maddie's body in the first place?

I think it's a combination of things. Mr. Martin says to Janet, "What did you feel? You have to tell me." This implies that she did something that was completely unexpected by him. We don't know what it was exactly, but we can assume that it has to do with blurring the lines between life and death even if it was just a little. But I don't think it was just this that allowed Maddie to see her and Mr. Martin.

When Maddie describes her altercation with her mother to Simon, she says very deliberately, "She killed my spirit." Maddie wasn't just feeling upset in that boiler, she was broken. A lifetime of being battered down by her mother's alcoholism and negligence and this was the final straw. She wasn't physically dead at that point, but emotionally she might as well have been.

I think that these two things happening at the same time created a sort of passageway between Maddie and the metaphysical plane. The hollowness Maddie was feeling coincided with whatever Janet had done to blur those lines, and that's how Janet was able to push her soul out.

Now, if I'm right about all of that, what does that have to do with Simon?

Well, remember what Simon said to Ms. Fields, "I don't know how I'm going to survive this place without her." It's important to remember that Simon had a feeling she was dead, or at the very least seriously hurt/in trouble. He accepted the possibility of her being gone as fact, which is why he never questions her being a ghost. It isn't such a stretch to assume that he was feeling the same hollowness that Maddie was concerning her mother.

(This also answers why he was the only one. Sandra and Nicole still believed Maddie was alive, they weren't broken in the way that Simon was. And when Sandra did receive the news that there was a good chance Maddie was dead, she was at home, not the school. So her and Maddie wouldn't have been able to connect the way her and Simon did. Also, Maddie's relationship with her mother is very complicated. They don't have anything close to the bond that her and Simon do)

But like I said above, the connection has to be on both sides. Not only did Maddie watch him have this breakdown and was probably feeling similarly to him in that moment, she also had a tether to the living world; her body. So, the combination of their emotional bond, Simon's emptiness when faced with a world without her, and Maddie still technically being alive allowed them to connect past the limitations of death

[beescribblz]

—Kinda vague TMA spoilers??—

Someone needs to do a Jonmartin animatic of the one part of Skyfall.

Y’know the “Where you go I go, what you see I see,” part. It literally overlaps with what Martin says to Jon in MAG200.

I know it would emotionally ruin me but it would hurt so good.

[under-a-lilac-moon]

martin blackwood and peeta mellark....👀👀👀 soft, sweet, caring, always there for you, sure...but underneath they're both kinda manipulative lil bitches

both love deeply and desperately want their partners to be safe and happy, but are products of both their upbringings and their present circumstances, trying to make the best of a high-stress, dangerous situation with the future of the world hinging on them (plus a heap of trauma), their relationships inevitably veering dangerously into codependency

both are incredibly manipulative - whether they're helping or hurting, it doesn't really matter tbh, at the end of the day they manoeuvre their loved ones into situations without their consent (i'm thinking in particular of the fake pregnancy in thg, and martin trying to guilt jon into smiting avatars - not the best examples but i'm tired lol)

both lean on their significant other to help them through the apocalypse hellscape or dystopia hellscape respectively but can't really entirely understand the position their loved one is in, can't entirely get rid of the barriers and trust issues and anger built up over years, constantly looking for the answers and validation that the other can't necessarily give

both become a united front with their partners against those that wish to harm them, constantly defending the other physically and emotionally (and eldritchly) from their enemies - and their friends - but within that almost lose out on the space to be their own person, to develop self-worth, to figure out what's real or not real (sorry i had to)

both have a lot of trauma and have been through awful, awful stuff, and of course that impacts on how they relate to others, even if it's so easy to pretend it doesn't.

both are tragic, tragic figures.

and perhaps the main difference to their arcs is that katniss and peeta got the chance to heal and have a (hopefully) healthy relationship by the end and jon and martin....didn't

[blenselche]

Why do you ship finn/fern? I want to know what you see in it. You don't have to answer if you don't want to, I think rare ships and why people like them are interesting.

how can i not when the show literally

ok but forreal, this is long so I'm throwing it under a cut, my fern brainworm really got away from me here...

Finn and Fern's story at its most bare bones is: someone incredibly damaged by abandonment is torn in half and those halves abandon each other. Fern does it literally, Finn more so emotionally. Only when it's too late does one half try to rectify the situation, showing unending patience and unconditional love and being met with vitriol and avoidance. And then... acceptance, and with that acceptance is the ultimate abandonment: death. Tragic, hurts just right. Add onto that-- their relationship references The Green Knight and the Narcissus Myth. The Narcissus myth comes through loudly in CAWM especially. My fav of Ovid's Metamorphoses and all Greek mythology, so that's def a factor. My dad said I cried when he read it to me for the first time lmao.

I don't ship them during/in canon. In canon all I can see is something nebulous and one sided, and we don't need to read into subtext for that, we can just appreciate the show as it's written: Finn helps create this person that 100% gets him after being the odd one out his whole life, Fern's existence even soothes his abandonment issues with a curse that binds them together forever, but he clings too close and doesn't give Fern space, reminding him of how he falls short. Ultimately this want to be "even closer" (very smooth, Finn) is what drives them apart. It's good where it is, it's a great starting point for shipping.

Where I ship them is past canon, blowing subtext up into large print font to pull Fern out of plot device hell into his own character, piggy backing off what we know about the grass demon.

The grass demon/blade was not made to serve the powers of good, but it actively changes/curbs its behavior for the approval of its hero wielder. It helps Finn with anything that deeply emotionally moves him (holding on to Martin, building the tower) keeps him out of unneeded conflict (refusing to attack the vamp king) helps impress his romantic interest (flute spell) it even reverses his arm nullification twice. The grass demon keeps him safe but it goes above and beyond its purpose for Finn's happiness. It reluctantly joins the fight against Bandit Princess because that sword is still Finn, and when its blade pierces/breaks the quillion it even cocoons the Finn Sword's essence safely away. Though, no matter how much good it might do it is still a demon. It has no morals, and doesn't understand them, all it cares about is Finn's safety and well being. When one of Finn's loved ones hurts him it doesn't hesitate to protect him, but (of course) Finn retaliates-- and so it creates a Finn of its own, one that won't hurt it for trying to keep him safe and happy. (OOPS! that backfired.) I love the grass demon, I love what we can glean about it because of its actions through the show and what that could mean for Fern and Fern's feelings surrounding Finn. This is the foundations of the ship to me.

I like to ship them when Fern remembers all of this/what he is (a demon that basically consumed half of Finn's soul), has accepted himself and has integrated his two ego states. We don't need to do any legwork on Finn's end. Dude's already weird enough about Fern canonically, but I do like to build his guilt up until he's a mess on the floor, crying over his past mistake of assuming Fern needed saving in the first place (the thing that leads Finn to ignorantly prompting/assisting in his suicide), haunted by the words of Fern's time echo from the The Beginning of The End comic, never truly being able to trust if he's actually helping someone again.

I like to play in that space of au/hc: a demon and the man he's bound to/he shares a soul with who loves him unconditionally, reunited somehow (a wish, diverging from canon, Penelope and Fern's next incarnation finding one another, etc) and coming to terms with the baggage of all the shit they inflicted on one another. Then maybe Fern can finally hear Finn out without the cloud of festering insecurity when he tells him again how he'd still like to be "even closer".

At its simplest I like finn/fern because I love Fern, and finally accepting and seeing Finn as a completely different person (enough to engage in a relationship, whether sexual/romantic/queer platonic/something that no label fits because of what they are, whatever) speaks to an ultimate form of self actualization, and Fern really deserves to feel that level of "himself" imo.

Hope that was adequately interesting.

[l5byrinth]

Remedie

pairing: chad meeks martin x reader

summary: in which chad is the only one who can make you feel better no matter how you’re feeling.

warning: mentions of sh!, fluff, lmk if i should add more

requested!!

a/n: you are all so worth it. every single one of you. please remember that <3 also if you ever get triggered by the warnings i gave please don’t read this :(

The nightmares and thoughts still haunted you till this day. The masked killer stabbing you severely was all you could think about. Losing your loved ones had emotionally scarred you. And the guilt of surviving didn’t help either.

The events in woodsboro had effected you more than you would show. Way more.

Ever since you were little, Chad would always be the one to cheer you up whenever something happened. Scraped your knee when falling of the bike? Chad helped you. Your first boyfriend broke up with you? He was there to comfort you.

But he was hurting because of the events too. You didn’t want to be a burden for him with your problems.

So you had found a way to cope with everything. A not so healthy way. Every time someone asked you about the scars, you told them it was from the attacks. But as the scars grew fresher and bigger you knew it wasn’t a good as an excuse as it was before.

You had tried your best, tried everything you could. And finally your way of coping had slowly faded away after you had moved to New York. It was terrifying, sure. But you had the people you loved by your side. Nothing could go wrong.

Right?

Turns out it could. Ever since that day. That day when you were watching the news when hanging out with Chad, the guilt and trauma came back.

You started going back to your old ways.

Nobody noticed it. But Chad could see you slowly fade away. You became less happy, less talkative than you usually were. And it killed him that he didn’t know what was going on.

It killed him his best friend wouldn’t tell him anything.

You took any excuse you could to go to the bathroom or a room whenever your anxiousness and guilt got bad again. And you started hurting.

It wasn’t healthy and you knew it. It wasn’t good and you knew it. But there was nothing you could do about it. Nothing you could change about the way you handled things. And you most specifically didn’t want anyone else to know. And no one did.

Well, until today.

The entire group, including you, were at Sam’s appartement. She wanted everyone to be together, so if any one of you were going to get attacked, you wouldn’t be on your own.

You were watching the news, hoping that nothing had happened. It made you more anxious than it should’ve. Your leg was nervously bouncing up and down, while you were sitting next to Chad.

Chad noticed your anxiety. The way your hands were on your thighs as if you were protecting them.

“Y/n.” He put his hand on your thigh, with a comforting smile on his face. You turned your head to look at him, your eyes softening when meeting his.

“It’s okay. I’m here.” He said, his eyes trying to find some answer in yours. Your leg stopped bouncing and your anxiety faded away, but not entirely. You nodded, your lips curling into a smile.

“Thank you.” You whispered, afraid that if you were speaking louder, tears would escape your eyes. “Guys, dinner is ready!” Sam called from the kitchen.

Chad got up and held out his hand to help you up. But you didn’t move, you didn’t even look at him. A memory flashed before you, almost as if you were reliving it. Your mother had said that exact phrase that night. That night your entire family was murdered. All of them except for you.

Your eyes were heavily fixated on your thighs and arms, the urge growing and growing. “Y/n?” Chad questioned, worry lacing his voice. “I- uhm… I gotta go the bathroom.” You muttered, not daring to look him in his eyes. Because if you did, you wouldn’t go to another room. You would go wherever he would take you.

You had developed a soft spot, alongside with a big tiny crush, for him throughout the years. You wanted to be strong, wanted to not be a burden. But whenever you were with him, it’s like you had to tell him all your worries.

His beautiful eyes never failed to make you feel safe. But you didn’t want that right now. The urge to hurt was too bad. Without even waiting for his reply, you got up and made your way to Sam’s bedroom.

You closed the door, so eagerly wanting to hurt, that you forgot to lock the door. You took of your sweater, wincing in pain when the fabric brushed against your scars. You did the same with your jeans.

A mirror had caught your attention and you looked at it. Thoughts and flashbacks raced through your head.

You hadn’t realised how many minutes had past, when you heard the door open slightly. Chad’s head peeked out with his eyes closed. You could see him through the mirror and panicked, yelling his name.

You grabbed your sweater quickly as he apologised repeatedly.

“Y/n, I was getting worried and I-” He opened his eyes as you were just putting on your pants. He noticed the scars on your arms and thighs, which made his heart shatter into a million pieces.

He had seen them before a long, long time ago. When you had told him it were just from the attacks.

But he realised now it wasn’t from the attacks, it was because of the attacks. And you were doing it to yourself.

Embarrassment took over you as he was still staring at you, his usual sparkly eyes seeming heartbroken.

“Y/n…” He started, but you didn’t let him finish. “It’s nothing, Chad. Why did you even come in here?” You questioned, your lip quivering slightly.

He got in and closed the door behind him. Something you wished he hadn’t done. “Y/n, please, I want you to tell me when something is wrong… I’m worried about you.”

“It’s none of your business, Chad.” You answered, wrapping your arms around yourself for comfort. He didn’t have to say anything, but you could see in his eyes that he was disappointed in you. It was what you thought you saw at least.

In reality, he was disappointed in himself for not noticing that you were hurting sooner. Disappointed in himself for not noticing you were hurting yourself.

With the thought of him fearing you and hating you, all of the feelings and thoughts you had bottled up, came out .

“You really want to know what’s going on, Chad? I have been hurting myself. Every chance I get, I hurt.” You yelled, showing your arm full with scars.

“I could’ve done something, Chad. I could’ve saved them. I am a coward. A hurting, piece of shit coward!” Tears were streaming down your face as you ranted. You were breathing heavily, the emotions rushing through your veins. You weren’t thinking straight.

“I shouldn’t even be here right now. I don’t deserve it. Not after what what happened to them. I- I c-could’ve…”

It became too much for you. Admitting to hurting yourself impacted you more than you thought it did. You plopped on the bed and rested you head in your hands as you cried. Not caring about what Chad was thinking anymore.

Chad walked over to you and grabbed your arm gently. To your surprise, his fingers were scanning the scars, caressing them every so often. Your head perked up at this, your heartbeat increasing at his touch.

He planted a kiss as light as a feather on one of them, his eyes meeting yours in the process. Heat crept up your cheeks, the rant and embarrassment long forgotten.

He spoke to you in between kisses, “Y/n, I’m here for you.” Another kiss. “I will be here no matter what.” And another. “I care for you.” Another. “And I want you to be safe.”

He grabbed your other arm, caressing the scars gently. He wished he could’ve prevented from anything bad happening to you. And he wished he noticed your state sooner. Another kiss was planted against a scar.

Your heart was beating out of your chest. His kisses and gentle touches bringing you more comfort than you could’ve ever imagined.

It was as if his kisses helped you heal.

“Chad…” The proper sentence you wanted to say, couldn’t leave your mouth when he planted more kisses.

His gaze flickered to your face as he pulled away. You were only now aware close proximity between the two of you, your heart thumping out of your chest pathetically.

“You want me to stop?” Worry was lacing his voice as he said this. He didn’t want to go past your boundaries or even scare you off. You shook your head, a simple “No.” leaving your mouth.

You didn’t know what was coming over you. He comforted you in a way no one could. In a way no one did. Your hands made their way to his cheeks, cupping them ever so gently.

While you leaned in closer, you swore you heard him take in a sharp breath. The closer you were the more your heart beat sped up.

Your lips brushed against one another, both of you longing for this moment for as long as you could remember.

Before you knew it his lips were attached to yours, fitting against each other perfectly like puzzle pieces. The kiss was gentle and soft, both of you trying not to put in all the passion you were holding back all this time.

But your passion took ahold of you, your kiss getting more and more passionate by the second. You backed away for air, a smile making its way to both of your faces. He planted kisses on your collarbone, made his way down your neck and arm.

A giggle left your lips as he left gentle kisses on your scars once more. His smile widened at the sound, loving that he had cheered you up.

It was like his kisses and his comforting words helped you heal. Like he helped you heal.

He was what you could say, your remedie.

[takaraphoenix]

Shot Through the Heart

Tags: m/m/m, polyamory, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, Jackson Doesn't Leave, Pack Feels, Spark Stiles, magic, fluff, hurt/comfort, competence kink, m/f

Main Pairing: Chris/Peter/Stiles

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

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

@writersmonth Prompts: mischief + mountain

Summary: After the kanima curse is broken, Chris unwillingly lets himself be dragged into pack business so he can protect his daughter. Unfortunately, Stiles proves too cunning and tempting. He's not the only one tempted though and their mutual simping over Stiles brings him and Peter together.

This Story on FFNet | This Story on AO3

Shot Through the Heart

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

Chris had no idea how he had ended up here. A year ago, he'd been a respectable hunter, married to a strong woman, a regular, normal family father. And now he was in bed with a werewolf, who kept whispering filth about a boy who was his daughter's age while the two fucked like animals.

Chris heaved a sigh as he rolled onto his back, resting the back of his hand on his forehead. He never meant to develop feelings for Peter Hale. But then again, he absolutely, most definitely had not meant to develop feelings for Stiles either and, arguably, those were what had brought him into bed with Peter in the first place, which had then led to the aforementioned feelings for the wolf.

It hadn't started out like this. When he had arrived here, in Beacon Hills, with Victoria and Allison, it wasn't supposed like this. And then, one by one, every lie he'd ever clung to crumbled. His marriage with Victoria had been arranged and on their good days, they got along splendidly. As much as a gay man could get along with his wife emotionally distant, anyway. What united them had always been Allison and the hunt. And then they started to drift apart, because Chris started to question the way his family hunted, and Allison sat smack in the middle of it – being groomed by Kate, by Gerard, while also being deeply in love with a werewolf.

But even with every horrid thing they had done, they were still his family. His wife, his sister, his father. And he had lost them all in the span of less than a year. It broke something inside him, something that needed to mend and didn't know how. It was Allison who showed him.

After everything, she was more determined than ever to stand with the wolves, and she dragged him right along with her, because he couldn't lose her, not her. She was his only family left, she was his daughter, his world. He needed to protect her and he knew that taking her away from the pack wasn't going to work, he knew that to protect her, he would have to be there. With the pack.

But first came a bit of healing, for them both. After his father's death, after the way Allison had lost it – Chris had been terrified of his daughter, of what was becoming of his daughter, when she had shot down Boyd and Erica like it was nothing, like they were nothing and it was the final straw, it was his personal tipping point that this needed to stop, they could no longer be the kind of hunters he had been all his life, he could not see his daughter become like them. Hunters ought to be about honor and this had nothing to do with honor, what the Argents had become was a warped and twisted thing of vengeance and pain. He took her to Paris, over the summer. Months away from Beacon Hills, months to mourn and heal (including actual therapy, for the both of them).

When they came back, things between Allison and the pack were tentative, to say the least. She had the unwavering support of Scott and Lydia, but the utter (and deserved) distrust of Boyd, Erica and Stiles. The Hales were wary and not fans of it either. Yet in the end, despite his distrust, it had been Stiles who was the deciding factor and that afternoon had drastically changed Chris' life...

/break\

Chris didn't even know why he was here, in Derek Hale's loft. Allison had been invited to a pack meeting and she had been requested to bring her father along. She'd offered her father the patented princess eyes that he had never been able to deny. All she wanted was to redeem herself, to show the pack that she was trustworthy, that she wanted to be good, all she wanted was to help. And Chris couldn't deny her that, even if it meant going to meet the Hale Pack.

"Why are they here," Derek growled, eyes flashing red.

His fists were balled at his side, Boyd, Erica and Isaac beside him, snarling and flashing their eyes too. Jackson appeared more neutral, torn between the loyalty to his new Alpha and his pack-mates and his loyalty toward his mate – Lydia Martin, who had immediately dashed over to hug Allison tightly. Scott was standing on Allison's other side, growling at the other wolves. Peter was in the back, on the spiral staircase, observing it all with a calculating but intrigued gaze.

"Put the claws away, Sourwolf," Stiles spoke as he stepped between them. "I invited them."

Chris froze, surprised. Partially by the boy's words – he had invited Allison? And Chris? Why? He'd been hunted and tortured by Gerard, he had been right there with Boyd and Erica, why would he ever look at an Argent again? Chris had assumed Scott invited her, wanted her to be involved in all of this – and partially by his action. This sixteen year old lanky human boy just stepped in front of an Alpha wolf whose fangs and claws were out. The guts on that kid were terrifying. But then he'd also faced Gerard down when the man had tortured him, not backing down but rather wise-cracking and pushing Gerard's buttons. Stiles had absolutely no self-preservation instincts and he was braver than he should be. Braver than anyone should be.

"Why," Derek snarled this time, stepping up to Stiles and pushing him.

Stiles didn't back down, but the action did make Scott growl in anger and attempt to lung forward. Chris reached out to press a hand against Scott's chest and push the boy back. The last thing they needed was for an all out fight to break out between the wolves in the room and somehow, for reasons beyond Chris' comprehension, Chris was sure that Stiles knew what he was doing.

"Because there's a pack of fucking Alpha werewolves in town," Stiles snarled right back, holding direct eye contact with red Alpha eyes without submitting. "Not just a pack of evil wolves, a whole damn pack of Alphas. You're not going to take them out on your own, Derek, for fuck's sake. You agreed to accept help. Here's your fucking help."

"Yours and Scott's," Derek hissed back. "That's the help I agreed to."

"Didn't specify," Stiles had that cocky, infuriating half-smirk on his lips that stretched too far. "I told you you needed help, you agreed. I meant me and Scott. And I meant the Argents. Who in this room has the most experience hunting and killing werewolves? You? Your bunch of barely a couple months old puppies who barely saw any action so far?"

Stiles motioned around, motioned at everyone present. Chris couldn't help but follow the motion. A bunch of scared and traumatized teenagers who'd only been turned months ago, who were most likely still learning about their wolves and how to fight. His eyes landed on Peter and he didn't like what he saw on the other man's face. He looked far too pleased and in Chris' experience, that was never a good thing. There was also something unsettling about Peter's focus on Stiles.

"You know Stiles is right, nephew," Peter declared delighted. "I hate the idea of working with an Argent as much as you do, but the threat we're facing are werewolves. And they're werewolf hunters. Now stop trying to intimidate the boy, you know it's not working."

With clenched teeth did Derek back off of Stiles, looking mostly annoyed that his uncle's words were true. Stiles had to be cocky about that too, earning him another growl from the Alpha. Truly no self-preservation instincts whatsoever.

"Look," Stiles sighed, his posture relaxing and his voice softening some. "I know. I get it. I spent a lovely evening getting tortured by an Argent, not exactly the biggest fan right now either. But they have a unique expertise that we're going to need. The Alpha Pack went after Boyd and Erica, they nearly captured them before. If you, Peter and Isaac hadn't found them…" Stiles shook himself. "They've been laying low for months now and I don't have a good feeling about it. Tell me, honestly, do you? Do you believe that they just... up and left and gave up? Or do you think they're hiding and plotting and we're about to be hit with a shitstorm of apocalyptic proportions?"

The Alpha's silence spoke volumes. Derek crossed his arms, aiming a glare at Chris and Allison. Chris noted the lack of red eyes. Apparently, the wolf had calmed down some. Apparently, the loud-mouthed teen was convincing the Alpha to do what he wanted.

"I'm not saying invite them into your pack," Stiles continued. "Fuck, I'm not even asking you to invite me or Scott back into your pack, I know Scott fucked up badly."

Erica and Boyd whined displeased by that, and so did Scott, though for different reasons. The two betas who had been tortured alongside Stiles clearly felt a kind of bond with the boy, most likely wanted him in their pack. And Scott? Chris wasn't sure, perhaps it was guilt, or regret.

"Right now, all of us have a common enemy," Stiles motioned around again. "Your pack as much as Scott and I, and a pack of Alphas isn't going to ignore the hunters in town either. So the best we all can do to survive is work together."

"He's right," Lydia pointed out, holding Allison's hand and Derek's gaze. "You know he's right. There's strength in numbers, and in shared resources."

"From what I gather," Chris spoke up when the silence stretched on. "I agree too. A pack of Alphas? As in, a pack where every member is an Alpha? Stiles is right, they won't ignore hunters, they'll come after us to eliminate a threat. And my best chance to keep Allison alive against a threat like that are you and your pack. A truce, Hale. We don't have to be friends, we just have to keep those we love alive and safe and we're each other's best bet."

He spoke to the Alpha, but his eyes did drift over toward Peter too. Both Hales were thoughtful. In the end, it was Derek who caved, with a heavy sigh, nodding. His betas backed down too. The next two hours were spent talking. Derek and Peter explained about the symbol found on the door of the Hale House, about the Alphas who had tried to go after Boyd and Erica, the concept of a pack made up entirely of Alpha werewolves. It was a lot to digest.

"I'll reach out to the contacts I still have, that I know I can trust, see what I can learn."

Derek nodded his acknowledgment. "Do you… want to… join our patrols? More people mean more shifts. More opportunity for rest for the others."

"Yes," Chris agreed without hesitation.

Not having to patrol on his own, for the sake of protecting Allison, sounded good. Even if he was still reluctant to trust wolves, he was trying to work up to it. Stiles clapped, grinning delighted.

"Wonderful. I am so proud of all of you. Cookies for everyone," Stiles stretched. "It's getting late, let's call it a day. We'll stay in contact, work out a schedule."

"How are we staying in contact? Coming here?" Chris looked displeased.

Stiles typed away on his phone and then suddenly, everyone's phone was buzzing. When Chris pulled his out of his pocket, he saw that he had been added to a Beacon Hills Defense Squad group-chat with… the entire pack, Lydia, Allison, Scott and Stiles.

"How do you even have my number," Jackson asked disturbed.

"How do you have my number?" Peter sounded genuinely baffled.

Chris wasn't going to repeat the sentence, but he was asking himself the same question. Stiles' grin turned just a note of shit-eating as he offered a casual shrug and stuffed his phone into his hoodie.

"Easier this way," was Stiles' only reply. "That way, we can easier organize meetings and patrols, share information and update everyone on how patrol went. Or ask for help in case of Alpha Pack."

The meeting was pretty much over at this point. Allison was lingering in the corner with Lydia, Scott and Jackson, talking softly, looking tense and reluctant. Boyd, Erica and Isaac were in the other corner. Derek stood closer to his uncle – not close though – and Chris was near the door, only waiting for Allison so they could go. Which was when Stiles approached him.

"You're going to give me wolfsbane bullets," Stiles stated.

"What," Chris coughed, surprised by the demand.

The wolves in the room quieted down and turned toward them. "Wolfsbane bullets. You're going to give them to me. I don't want to play the 'your dad tortured me in your basement so you owe me' card, but… your dad tortured me in your basement so you owe me."

"Stiles," Scott's voice pitched in distress.

"No," Stiles cut him off, voice and gaze sharp, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. "This was always about you, I played by your rules because you're the one who went through the painful, traumatic change. Guess what. You're no longer the only one who went through something painful and traumatic. I'm done being the helpless human sidekick, Scott. I got kidnapped and tortured because I was defenseless and I will not be defenseless again."

"But…" Scott's resistance weakened, but his face still looked troubled.

"Remember," Stiles pressed his lips together for a second. "When I said that I'll forgive you, but you owe me for going behind my back and getting us kicked out of the pack? This is it. This is what you owe me, Scotty. I know you hate guns, but I hate getting tortured."

His eyes were cutting like sharpened steel and Scott faltered completely, looking guilty and worried. Chris crossed his own arms over his chest, regarding Stiles with a pointed look. This was not a discussion he needed to have with Scott, he wanted this from Chris, after all.

"I will not give you a gun, Stiles."

"Didn't ask for a gun," Stiles cocked one eyebrow. "I asked for bullets."

"Didn't ask," Peter chimed in, sounding far too amused. "Demanded."

"What would you even do with just bullets," Isaac asked confused.

"I figured I'd just throw them real hard," Stiles' voice was dripping with sarcasm and he rolled his eyes. "I have a gun, I just need the werewolf-killing-bullets to make it effective."

"Why do you own a gun, Stilinski," Jackson sounded mortified.

It was a fair question. Stiles was a minor and he was Stiles. Chris had seen the boy flail and twitch and the thought of his finger on a trigger was utterly unsettling. Stiles looked unimpressed.

"Well, I don't technically 'legally' own a gun," Stiles put actual finger quotes up at 'legally'. "It was my mother's. According to her will, it's going to be mine when I turn twenty-one. It's been collecting dust in the family safe, so I'll just get it out… early."

"That just makes it sound worse," Lydia muttered, one hand clasped over her mouth.

"Yeah," Erica made a face. "Hate to agree with Lydia on principle, but you shooting a gun?"

"You guys make it so hard not to take offense to this," Stiles huffed. "I'm literally the sheriff's son, it's honestly insulting that you people think my dad hasn't taught me how to respect, take care of and use a gun. I was practically raised at the sheriff's station and whenever I got bored – which, if you met me, you know happens fast and a lot – the deputies take me to the shooting range. Also, we literally live in the middle of the damn woods. My dad and I go hunting once a month. So yes, I even know how to hit a moving target."

"I am beyond intrigued," Peter's voice was close to a purr. "I'd love to see that."

"Are you offering to be target practice?" Stiles' grin was all teeth and wickedness.

"I am going to require you actually proving that," Chris pointed out, wanting to interrupt whatever was happening between Peter and Stiles now. "I'll not provide ammunition to a minor just because he's sassing and guilt-tripping me, Stiles."

Stiles shrugged, indifferent look on his face. "Give me a time and a place and I'll be there."

"Oh, I will be there too," Lydia declared with wide eyes.

"Me three," Erica tagged on. "Batman using a gun? I have to see that."

"Aw, a bonding experience for the whole team," Stiles snickered, eyeing Chris.

"Fine," Chris heaved a sigh. "Saturday, ten AM, my house."

/break\

Peter could not picture a place he'd want to be any less than the Argent house. And on a Saturday morning, at that. Like he didn't have better things to do. Alas, his boy had invited himself into the Argent house to prove to the hunter that he deserved to get wolfsbane bullets and suddenly, there were various reasons for Peter to be here.

Stiles was the most interesting this this town had to offer. The boy was clever, cunning, brave, loyal, snarky, stubborn and beautiful. Peter had been intrigued from the get-go. He'd told Stiles that he thought Stiles would make a magnificent wolf, and he had meant it. Stiles fascinated him and that fascination quickly grew into infatuation when he came back from the dead, more sane. More there, more focused. The fact that Stiles had been tortured by an Argent made his blood boil, but his wolf was also howling in awe when he'd heard from Boyd and Erica how Stiles had taken the brunt force of it, distracting Gerard from them, trying to protect them, even getting eletricuted when he'd tried to free them. That boy's loyalty and his dedication to protect those he deems worthy made Peter's wolf snarl and growl with the need to break out and claim that perfect potential mate.

Patience, he'd whisper to his wolf. Stiles had killed him and he had plenty of reason to resent him. Peter, upon coming back, had vowed to make himself worthy, to charm the boy, show him how alike they were and how perfect Peter was for him. Which included protecting his boy.

And that was why Peter entered the Argent house, together with the rest of the slowly growing Hale Pack. Peter's eyes wandered over Derek and the reluctant betas. Isaac was standing closer to Scott than he was to Derek. Boyd and Erica, they had left the pack. They'd returned only because of Stiles, because of the bond those three forged that night was what kept them here, what made them return. Well, Peter knew that him, Derek and Isaac coming to get them after Stiles told them, that had helped too. It had mended some things between the two betas and Derek. But, again, it was Stiles who had been the deciding factor here, the one to even let them know they had to find and save the two betas. Then there was Jackson, the first Derek had turned… and then abandoned to a horrible fate. A very strained relationship, even though Jackson had joined the pack.

Peter knew Derek was doing the best he could, he knew Derek was trying. And part of Peter did feel for his nephew, the part from before the fire, the uncle who had always been there for Derek, the beta of the Hale Pack who'd seen the wide-eyed kid trailing after his Alpha mom. Derek was never meant to be an Alpha and the way he had become Alpha was warped and twisted too. Killing his uncle, after his uncle had killed his sister. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Lydia and Stiles were the first ones to enter the house after Allison opened the door. Lydia immediately linking fingers with her best friend. She made her alliance quite obvious, even if her mate was part of the Hale Pack, she was not going to join the pack without Lydia. A similar sense of loyalty as Stiles'. Peter wondered if an Argent could, or would, ever join the Hale Pack.

"Come," Chris spoke gruffly, leading the way to the garage.

He looked supremely annoyed and Peter got some sense of delight from that. Annoying an Argent. What could he say, he had to find joy in the small things in life, since he was no longer allowed to kill Argents. The three aggressors, the ones that had personally hurt the Hale Pack, were dead. His instincts had wanted them all dead, blind rage still gripping him even with his clearer mind. Once again, it boiled down to Stiles. Chris had gotten Stiles home when the hunters had let him go and then he'd returned and freed Boyd and Erica too. That bought him a lot of leeway with Peter right now. Allison, Peter wasn't a big fan of, too easily influenced by her murderous family, so quick to flip on the wolves and hurt them. However, she was Scott's mate so killing her would upset Scott – which, in itself, wasn't the problem, but an upset Scott would upset Stiles.

"I set a target up for you," Chris side-eyed Stiles warily. "But before I let you shoot anything, you're going to show me that you know your way around a gun. Take it apart."

He motioned at the table where a gun was laying. Peter had no idea about guns but it looked average to him. Together with the rest of the pack, as well as Allison, Scott and Lydia, did Peter stand there, watching. Was he the only one in the room who had confidence in his boy? Did they really all come to watch Stiles flail and fail? Pathetic.

"You don't have to be here, Scotty," Stiles spoke softly as he sat down on the chair.

"What is the problem anyway?" Jackson asked, motioning between them. "I have never seen you two disagree I thought you shared a brain-cell, that Stilinski usually has custody over."

Stiles snorted and flipped him off, but he didn't answer. He just looked inquisitively at Scott. The other boy shifted a bit nervously, looking very uncomfortable. In the end, he nodded reluctantly.

"Scott's father is an FBI agent," Stiles replied, his gaze on the gun. "We were… small. Playing around. Sure, Rafael kept the gun in his gun safe. But c'mon. If you use your son's birthday as your code, of course is his best friend going to crack that safe. We were both kids of law-enforcement so of course did we want to play cops and robbers."

Something on Stiles' face twisted and he grabbed his shirt, pulling it up to show a scar on his stomach. "We were five. We had no idea what we were doing, or that the gun was real."

There were gasps and Peter couldn't help the growl. Chris next to him shot him a sharp look at it.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," Scott sounded small and miserable and looked so unfathomably guilty that even Peter felt the need to comfort the pup. "I shot my best friend. And… And Stiles nearly…" Scott choked on air and shook his head. "I hate guns."

Stiles pushed his shirt down again and sighed. "You do. But I don't. Because after that day, my dad made it his mission to make sure this never happens again. He taught me to respect a gun, to take care of it and once I hit thirteen, he started teaching me how to shoot."

With that, he sat down in front of the gun, taking it into his hand with a small grin, his eyes landing on Chris. "You want me to take it apart to earn shooting it? I could do that with my eyes blindfolded. Well. Actually. Why not."

The small grin turned into something wicked and cocky as Stiles held direct eye-contact with Chris while his nimble, long fingers took the gun apart and placed all individual parts neatly next to each other. Peter stood right next to Chris, the hunter staying more away from the pack, so Peter was most likely the only one in the room who could smell the sudden and intense spike in arousal coming off the other man. Peter's gaze snapped over to Chris, eyes intense, sharp and vicious. A snarl formed on his face, before he saw the look on Chris'. The hunter looked as surprised as Peter felt. Mh. Interesting. So the prim and proper hunter, the loving father and grieving widower, wasn't all that, after all. It would be amusing if it wasn't aimed at Peter's boy.

"Now put it back together again," Chris ordered, voice and eyes firm.

His arms were crossed over his chest, drawing attention to his bulging biceps and the way his shirt spanned over his chest. Peter didn't have to like the man to appreciate the view. But his attention was needed elsewhere. He needed to see those elegant fingers work again. It took him a lot of self-control to not flash his eyes in hunger and to not show his own arousal. Born wolves were better at masking their scents and controlling what kind of chemosignals they gave off.

With as much easy and just as quickly did Stiles put the gun together again. "Satisfied?"

"And a little turned on," Erica said, fanning herself. "Damn, Batman. You do have a secret identity."

Her mate next to her didn't seem jealous, he just huffed out an amused grunt, looking impressed and nearly fond. The bond those three had forged deeply fascinated Peter, because it was the first time he got to see proper pack-bonds ever since the fire. Which was only more intriguing due to the fact that Stiles wasn't even pack, technically. A technicality Peter was set to change.

"Prove that you also know how to use it," Chris instructed.

There was a target set up and a set of ear-muffs and protection glasses laid out. Stiles looked utterly pleased with himself, and that look suited the boy, as he got ready and grabbed the gun. Peter's eyes wandered to Scott for only a moment. His inner wolf found itself worried for the pup. The thought of accidentally nearly killing your pack-mate, your brother, and as small, defenseless children, it stirred something in Peter that he hadn't felt in many years. He could feel the side of himself that used to be a good uncle, that used to care for the pups and protect them. But Scott seemed okay, where he was standing by Allison's side, his mate providing him the comfort and support

Peter stepped closer to Chris, who had subconsciously – or maybe even intentionally – taken more steps away from the pack. Oh no, that wouldn't do. Peter was going to watch like a hawk. Or rather, smell like a wolf, because his eyes were needed on his boy.

And what a view. Stiles looked so comfortable and at ease as he aimed the gun at the target. He took three shots, before he put the safety back on and laid the gun down on the table. The coil of arousal from Chris was even more intense this time, when they looked at the target. One through the heart, one right between the eyes, and the third directly through the throat. Vicious little vixen.

Was it possible to fall even harder for the boy? The murderous intend, the capability. He'd found everything about Stiles appealing already, but he hadn't been sure how far Stiles was willing to go. Sure, he'd killed Peter, but that had not been planned, it'd happened in the moment. This? This showed that Stiles was willing to aim to kill. And it made Peter's wolf purr in delight.

"Well, Mister Argent, do we have a deal?"

Only Stiles could make a respectful address sound this mocking. Peter smirked pleased, watching how satisfied with himself the boy was. Yes, this look did suit him. Sure of himself, of his abilities.

"We have a deal," Chris heaved a tired, defeated sigh.

"What," Isaac sounded surprised. "I mean, I saw him do all that too, but I still didn't think you would give bullets to a minor, to be honest."

"I'm going to do more than that," Chris ground out as he went to grab a couple boxes of bullets to place them in front of Stiles. "Keep the gun, Stiles."

"What," Stiles raised both his eyebrows. "I told you-"

"That you would steal a gun out of your family safe that your father knows about. The last thing we need is for anything to be traced back to your father and you ending up in foster care because they blame your dad for your access to a gun," Chris' voice was firm, not leaving room for an argument. "Keep the gun, Stiles. It can't be traced back, not even to me."

"You're giving a gun to a minor," Peter sounded more amused than surprised.

"Stiles is right," Chris said this and Stiles looked so pleased and smug at it. "Out of everyone here, most have claws, fangs and super-healing. Me and Allison, we have our training and our weapons. Stiles and Lydia are the most vulnerable and the most defenseless. If Stiles actually knows what he's doing and knows to take it seriously, I don't see why he shouldn't have a gun to protect himself even when there are no wolves around to protect him."

"Which, actually, brings me to my second request," Stiles aimed a shit-eating grin at Chris. "I need you to teach Lydia how to defend herself so she never gets mauled by an Alpha again."

Ouch. Low blow. Peter tried not to bristle. It was a fair low blow, but still.

"Done," Chris shrugged. "She's Allison's best friend. She's an innocent. I'm not against teaching you to defend yourself. However, you're going to be a part of that too, Stiles. You won't always have your gun at hand, you won't always be in a good position to shoot. You need to be able to defend yourself without your gun too."

"Not going to protest to that," Stiles smiled, more genuine this time.

/break\

They were on their way back from the Argents together, walking slowly. Stiles knew how sensitive Scott was about guns and he got it, he really did. He had the scar to prove it, after all. But things had gone too far. He'd tried, he really had, for Scott's sake. And then he got kidnapped and tortured and had to see his pack – his friends – tortured alongside him. He would not be put into that position again. He refused to be helpless, to be useless, ever again.

"I'm sorry, Scotty," Stiles sighed. "I wish there was a better method, but there isn't. What else am I supposed to do? Try and fight Alpha wolves with, what, a baseball bat?"

He snorted and Scott sighed. "No. I… I do get it. I want you safe too, dude. You're my best friend. When you… after you… I got really scared when you told me what happened."

Stiles gently bumped his shoulder against Scott's, trying to sooth the young wolf. Still, Scott kept giving him side-eye looks like there was more he wanted to say. Stiles could wait.

"You smelt like grief and regret, at the meeting, when you brought up that I owe you for getting us kicked out of the pack," Scott spoke evenly, like he was trying to sound serious. "I thought… I didn't think that you cared. When we joined the pack, I suggested it and you followed along and I only did it because Gerard forced me by threatening my mom and I didn't want to, I didn't want to stay, so I left. And I just assumed that you felt the same way. But you don't. Why not?"

Stiles stumbled a little at that, staring at his best friend in surprise. This wasn't the first time they talked about the Hale Pack, but usually Scott's voice was a frustrated whine and there was pure stubbornness in his eyes. This was the first time Scott asked with genuine interest and with a look in his eyes that showed he was paying real attention. He actually wanted to know.

"Derek has saved my life multiple time in the past year," Stiles started slowly. "When I couldn't reach you because you were on a date with Allison – don't look so hurt, I'm not saying it to hurt you, I'm stating a fact, this is what happened and we can't change the past – he was always there. He came and saved my ass when nobody else did. I trust him."

A pause, Stiles took a deep breath. "And you should too. You say you only joined his pack because you got forced to, but Derek accepted you into his pack willingly. When we were at the rave, when he heard you were in distress – when you called for your Alpha – he came running. And he saved your life, without hesitation. Without Derek, you would be dead now. Even before that. Sure, he was… not as forthcoming as he could have been, but he has been helping us with all of this, he's tried to protect Allison from you back during your first full moon, to make sure you don't hurt the girl you love, even though that girl is an Argent. He didn't have to do that, but he did."

Scott looked nearly uncomfortable, staring at the pavement beneath their feet as they walked. "I… I guess you're not wrong with that. He just… pisses me off so much. You say he could be more forthcoming but he has put us in danger with his lack of communication."

"Oh, he pisses me off all the time, if I physically could, I absolutely would punch his smug face twice a day," Stiles snorted amused. "Doesn't mean I don't trust him with my life though."

"But the betas-" Scott started to argue.

"You are literally spending nearly as much time with Isaac as you are with me," Stiles pointed out dryly. "And don't wince, you know I'm right. You've grown attached. I don't mind, he's a bit of a bastard, I find that charming. But what Boyd, Erica and I… What we went through. Nobody else will ever understand it, not really, because nobody else was in that damn basement with us. It… I can't explain this to you, Scott, and I'm honestly a little glad you don't understand it. You don't understand it because you haven't had to experience this kind of trauma bond and I hope you never will. But yeah. We have shared a trauma and it… brought us closer."

Scott heaved a frustrated sigh, nearly defeated. "There's Jackson and Peter too."

"They're different now," Stiles offered a half-shrug. "Jackson… Fuck. What he's just been through? I don't like the guy but I feel awful for him. I wouldn't want to have to go through that, being robbed of my autonomy, having someone else puppeteer my body, using me to kill? That's terrifying, Scott. And I think it changed him. It, and the isolation from it, changed him. He'd not exactly nice and friendly, but he's not been hurling insults. Besides, the whole… the reason why he became the kanima is because he didn't feel like he belonged and… doesn't that hit you too? We were both always lonely and outcasts, but we had each other. Jackson, who seemed to have everything, including the gorgeous gay best friend and the gorgeous girlfriend, was still so unfathomably lonely that he didn't turn into a wolf. Doesn't that fuck you up too?"

"...Yeah, it does," Scott admitted after a moment, voice soft.

"Peter's changed too," Stiles continued, more careful this time. "He was feral. When he turned you, he was fully feral. He'd been isolated and packless for six years. Derek showed you an omega, didn't he? Peter was an omega. Only that it was even worse because he was locked into his own body. And all that after he watched his family burn alive. I can't imagine what I would be like after that. And I'm not a werewolf. That doesn't excuse what he did to you, but it explains it. And he's changed, dying… I don't know, but it was like a reset, like it helped him heal."

"So you… really wouldn't mind? Being in a pack with him, and with Jackson? With them all?"

"Mind's the wrong word," Stiles tilted his head. "I liked being part of the pack. There was this… pull. When we were at that rave, I… I could do something I've never done before. And when I was working with Erica and Isaac inside, we worked together well, they listened to me, they respected me, I felt protective of them in a way that… was natural. Instinctual. I liked who I was when I was part of the pack. And I like them. Flaws and bullshit and asshole behavior and all. Fuck, who am I to judge. I'm a flawed asshole full of bullshit myself."

Silence stretched on between them, Scott's eyes intense on him. They were also thoughtful though. Because he'd really listened to what Stiles was saying and Stiles appreciated that.

/break\

Stiles entered his bedroom and nearly had a heart-attack when he noticed the glowering, glaring Alpha wolf in the corner of the room. Yelling loudly, he flailed and grasped his heart, while landing on his bed. Derek didn't even twist, just continued glaring.

"Fuck," Stiles gasped. "Why are you trying to kill me."

"You should have shot me," Derek frowned. "You have a gun with wolfsbane bullets now. When you come home to find a wolf in your bedroom, your instinct has to become to shoot."

"Then your instinct has to become to use the fucking front door," Stiles ground out. "Besides, I literally just got that gun an hour ago, excuse me for not being instantly trigger-happy."

Derek continued glaring at him. Stiles rubbed his face with a sigh and got more comfortable on his bed. Kicking off his shoes, he stared at Derek. Waiting. There usually was a reason for any wolf in his bedroom. Also, there were decidedly too many wolves in his bedroom. At least considering that none of them were having sex with him. Well, he didn't want to have sex with half of them. Boyd and Erica meant too much on a different level to him, Scott was literally his brother. But Stiles has had a crush on Jackson since he had developed his crush on Lydia and hate-sex was supposed to be really good, while Derek and Peter both appealed to his liking-older-guys thing that he was steadily developing, plus, ridiculously smoking hot, these Hale genes were unreal. He didn't have an opinion on Isaac either way, if he was being honest. Maybe a little making out?

"Stop being horny, Stiles, it makes it really hard to try and have a serious conversation with you."

A grin spread over Stiles' lips and shrugged. "Dude, you broke into a teenager's bedroom. You don't get to tell the teenager not to be horny in his own bed. Wait, serious conversation?"

"I heard what you and Scott were talking about after we all left the Argents," Derek admitted.

"Oh," Stiles couldn't help the faint, embarrassed blush. "Listen, don't take it the wrong way, okay?"

"I don't think there is a wrong way to take this," Derek's eyebrows did something complicated and he stared at Stiles so intensely. "You didn't know what Scott was planning. It's been bothering me, when you said it at the loft yesterday. That's why I followed you earlier, because I wanted to talk to you about it. You didn't know. I assumed…"

"Yeah, well," Stiles huffed and propped himself up. "Common misconception is that Stiles and Scott are one person but we are, in fact, two separate entities who, at times, make different decisions and choices. He made his choice. I didn't get a choice."

Derek looked at him, long and honest. "Stiles-"

"No, nope," Stiles interrupted him right away, holding a hand up. "Don't ask me. Please don't ask me. Because if you ask me, I'll say yes and… I can't say yes, not without Scott. I can't leave him all alone, Derek. I can't make that choice. I can't choose to abandon him."

To his surprise did Derek simply nod. The Alpha even looked as though he understood. Maybe he did. What Scott and Stiles had, it was a pack-bond. And he couldn't betray it. Still, Stiles couldn't help but smile a little at the fact that Derek would have offered.

"If I can make him see reason…" Stiles faltered. "You don't have to. You don't owe it to him. What he did to you was… it was really fucked up. I don't think he realized just how fucked up it was, he didn't think that far ahead. That's not an excuse-"

"It's an explanation," Derek finished with mild bemusement. "You're good at these. Explanations."

"I'm good at a lot of things," Stiles offered a crooked grin. "It's about time people realize."

"I would," Derek offered after a moment. "I was listening to you both. And I didn't just hear your side. I also heard the way Scott was listening to you. If you manage to explain to him what it means to be pack, if he'll come to me and mean it… I would accept him back. Both of you back."

Stiles swallowed hard and nodded. But when the Alpha turned around to leave, Stiles stopped him.

"You need to bond your pack," Stiles told him, seriously. "It's frayed. Jackson doesn't have a place in it yet, it's the three Musketeers vs him. Boyd and Erica still don't fully trust you. And you're losing Isaac's loyalty more and more with every day. Peter is… Peter. You need to… invest into pack-bonding time, you need to make them a united front. Because a frayed pack is easy to pick apart. Don't let the Alpha Pack pick your pups off one by one."

Derek hesitated at the window-sill, hand on the window, not looking at him. "I… don't know how."

Stiles couldn't fight the small smile. Not even mocking or teasing this time, just genuine. "Do something with them. Something fun. Not training. A project, a trip, pack-nights."

"Pack-nights," Derek echoed, sounding nostalgic. "I… could do that."

The small smile turned into a broad grin. "Can't wait for the first pack-night I get to join."

/break\

Chris ground his teeth together when Peter Hale sauntered into his house like owned the place. The wolf was followed by the beta pups. If Chris wasn't so surprised, he would have stopped them.

"They need to learn how to fight," Peter offered. "I can teach them how to fight like a wolf, but we are fighting wolves. So they need to learn how to fight against a wolf. Our glorious Alpha told me to drop the children off at class, teacher."

Frowning, Chris pinched the bridge of his nose. It made sense. He hated that it made sense. Stiles and Lydia were already here, sitting together with Allison and Scott – who had come as moral support for Stiles and also to sneak some time with Allison, much to Chris' frustration.

"Backyard," Chris instructed in frustration.

Trained wolves were safer for him than untrained pups. It was, mostly, the Peter Hale that bothered him. The man had spent all day last Saturday staring at him with such a calculating and smug gaze, because he'd smelt Chris' reaction to Stiles. Chris hadn't seen that coming either. But then competence had always spoken to him. It was a common ground he'd found with Victoria too. Even if no romantic or sexual attraction, he had admired her competence, skill and ruthlessness.

"Okay. You guys are going to pair up," Chris regarded his 'students'. "Stiles and Jackson. Boyd and Scott. Lydia and Isaac. Erica and Allison. Don't groan at me. We're going to repeatedly switch up partners, when I'm done with you you'll have sparred with everyone in this group. You'll learn each other's bodies, weaknesses and strengths. This will aid you in fighting side by side too. You'll learn to rely on each other. Hale, you're with me."

Peter looked genuinely surprised at that. "I'm just dropping off the pups-"

"No, you're not," Chris shook his head. "I can teach them better by demonstrating and that works better with a partner. I wanted to take Allison, but… they ought to learn how to fight werewolves. You're a werewolf. Besides, why should only I put in the work? Most are your pack."

Displeased and annoyed looked good on Peter. Chris preferred it to smug arrogance. He smirked at the wolf. This was going to be fun and maybe a bit cathartic for the both of them.

/break\

The first time Peter and Chris fucked was when Stiles killed an Alpha with a couple very precise wolfsbane bullets. The two had been dancing around the boy for months at that point, glaring at each other, growing more possessive and protective of Stiles and somehow figuring that they had to protect Stiles from the respective other. Yet at the same time that yearning and that need to keep Stiles safe, they also united Peter and Chris. If something threatened Stiles, those two could fight like one well-oiled machine with deadly efficiency. Turned out they worked the same way in bed too, much to both their pleasure. Stiles had killed an Alpha who'd tried to force Derek into killing Boyd – and everyone knew that Stiles was particularly protective of Boyd and Erica, so he took that twice as personal than any other attack on their pack. It had been the single hottest thing Chris and Peter had ever seen and in lieu of pinning Stiles against the nearest wall and ravishing him, somehow, the two of them ended up in bed together. It was rough, violent, there was no gentleness or soft edge to their touches, pure, raw need to satisfy an urge.

"This…" Chris panted as he rolled over onto his back.

"Was a one time thing and will not happen again, I agree."

It happened six more times before they stopped pretending that it won't happen again.

It happened eight more times after that before they realized that on multiple occasions, they'd slept with each other without Stiles being the one that got them horny. This was considered a problem by both of them, because there was not supposed to be any attraction between them. They were simply trying to compensate for their attraction to Stiles and the need building up in them both.

And that brought Christopher to this moment, laying on his back in his bed, hand on his forehead, staring at the ceiling and contemplating how he'd gotten here, in only a couple months. He got pulled out of those thoughts when Peter rolled out of bed and got up.

"I'll shower first. No shared shower today, darling. Our boy is due in an hour and we would… not be decent if we shared," Peter offered him a wolfish grin. "Get coffee started."

Chris grumbled beneath his breath but he still obeyed. Getting bossed around by Peter Hale in his own home. Where the wolf was feeling far too at home by now. Coffee was ready by the time Peter joined him, hair still a little damp, but properly dressed and awake. The wolf brushed a kiss against Chris' cheek in passing when Chris headed to the bathroom next. These gentle moments were what felt the most jarring. It had all started with rough fucking, more fight than sex really. And now Chris would hold Peter's hand when the wolf got that far off gaze that indicated he was lost in terrible, traumatizing memories. Peter would scent-mark him with a gentleness and frequency he had only had reserved for Stiles. They'd fallen asleep on Chris' couch last Monday and hadn't even gotten to the sex. It was feeling more and more like a real relationship and that terrified Chris.

The cold shower helped Chris focus his thoughts somewhat. When he reentered the kitchen and found Peter comfortably leaning against the counter, drinking his coffee, it made him feel warm. Giving in to the urge, Chris walked over to brush a kiss against Peter's cheek this time, making the wolf smirk a little, but Peter had the decency to not comment on it.

The doorbell rang and within moments, Peter was out of the kitchen to let their boy in. And hadn't that been the biggest giveaway? That Stiles had become their boy, in his mind, no longer his boy.

Every Saturday morning, Stiles came over to the Argent home to work with Peter and Chris on their unified bestiary – a collection of Gerard's personal bestiary (that Stiles, Scott and Allison had apparently stolen before the man's death), Chris' bestiary and the Hale bestiary, as well as any new information they kept gathering from the various books Chris and Peter kept buying. It had been Stiles' idea and both Peter and Chris had leaped at the opportunity to spend time alone with Stiles. On account of nobody else wanting to do research. Even Lydia had given him a displeased look and shook her head, claiming that pack meetings and training sessions were already eating enough of her time, if Stiles wanted to spend what little free time they had in dusty books, that was his choice, she still had a boyfriend and a social life to attend to.

"Morning," Stiles sounded chipper as he followed Peter toward the living room.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Peter purred pleased.

Pack meetings were Sundays, training sessions were Friday after school – and Saturday, Saturday Stiles was all theirs. It had started out with just the morning, a couple hours. But Stiles' ADHD had him dig his teeth into something and made him fully unwilling and unable to let it go until he was done with it. Neither Peter nor Chris were complaining whenever Stiles stayed until sunset, but they did make sure their boy ate in between. Either they'd order in, or Peter would cook something for them. The wolf was, admittedly, a decent enough cook.

Stiles kept giving them looks, until Chris grunted. "You two do know that… if you don't want the pack to know about you, you gotta be more subtle though."

Both froze, Peter the first to regain his voice. "Whatever are you talking about."

Stiles made a show of rolling his eyes. "Please. You two have been fucking for months. But you're getting more… careless. Your hair is literally still wet, Peter."

"Maybe I showered before I came here, Stiles."

"You used Chris' bodywash," Stiles countered with a deadpan.

"You know what Chris' bodywash smells like," Peter raised one eyebrow. "And, for that matter, what my bodywash smells like, if you could tell I didn't use mine."

"Running in a pack of wolves makes you rely more on your senses, "Stiles shrugged. "But yeah. If I can tell, the wolves will be able to tell too. So, either… come out and actually say it, or… get better at hiding it again. Just, a fair warning. You're slipping."

"You… bring your own books," Chris noted, trying desperately to change the topic.

The kind of books they worked with were expensive. Which was why Peter usually bought them, if they needed – or wanted – anything. Stiles plopped down on his spot on the couch and book the five heavy, large books he'd brought with him down onto the table.

"Mh," Stiles tilted his head. "Not technically mine. I, ah, borrowed them."

"...Did you rob a bookstore without me?" Peter actually looked offended. "You know you are supposed to tell me when you commit a crime so I can bring popcorn and watch."

"You're a horrible human being and an even worse influence," Chris said dryly.

"Not a bookstore, would never rob a bookstore," Stiles rolled his eyes. "Stole 'em from Deaton."

"You… just walked out of the vet's clinic with a stack of books as high as you?" Chris asked.

"No," Stiles paused and there was a shift, the snark and joke left his face, he looked near guarded. "I've been… taking them one by one for months now."

He caught his lower lip between his teeth, worrying it until it turned from gentle pink to dark-red. Stiles was distracted enough with his thoughts to not notice but Chris saw the hungry way with which Peter's eyes flashed ice-blue. That mouth had been a topic of discussion many times during sex. It was very inspiring to them both. Chris walked over to sit down opposite Stiles.

"Talk to us," Chris prompted the boy. "You say months. But you bring them here now."

Stiles dragged his lip between his teeth torturously slowly. His knee was bounding, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. Peter made a curious noise in his throat as he took a seat next to Chris.

"There's…" Stiles swallowed hard. "So there's something that I haven't told anyone yet. Not even Scott. I don't… I don't know, I guess saying it feels stupid because what if it's not as big a deal as it feels to me and then whoever I tell will be let down and what If I just-"

"Nothing," Peter interrupted him in a firm voice. "Nothing you tell us could disappoint us, sweetheart. If this is something that's been worrying you for months, then please… tell us."

And oh, Stiles had even gotten a please out of the wolf. Those were rare. Chris was still trying to figure out how to get one in bed. Hadn't found a method yet. Maybe Stiles could.

"I have magic," Stiles blurted out the next moment. "I'm not… I don't know how much or where it came from or what it means or really what I can do but… Yeah. I have magic."

As if to prove it, he lifted a hand and gave a little wave, curling his fingers in one by one. He turned his hand palm up and then unfurled his fingers, revealing a small pile of mountain ash that hadn't been there before. Chris swallowed hard and Peter made a deep, primal sound.

"You're a Spark," Peter pressed out between clenched fangs.

Chris' head whipped around to pin the wolf with a surprised stare. A Spark? He'd heard whispered rumors of them but hunters usually dismissed them as werewolf fairy tales. His attention went back to Stiles and there was something akin to recognition on his face.

"That's what Deaton said," Stiles frowned. "I mean, he said a lot of convoluted things wrapped in a weird metaphor that barely even made sense, but in there somewhere he said that I had to be the spark, that I had to believe and then I could do it. So… So that wasn't just metaphor? That was… That is something? That's… what I am?"

He sounded so small and fragile that it made Chris' heart clench. Stiles, stripped off all cockiness and snark was something so vulnerable and beautiful that Chris wanted to shield him so nobody aside from him and Peter would ever get to see this side of their boy.

"That…" Peter swallowed hard. "That indeed is something."

"And what?" Stiles narrowed his eyes, a defensive edge to his posture. "I made mountain ash appear. Big whoop. But you immediately knew when I did it. Is that, like, the only thing I can do? Are Sparks just… mountain ash dispensers?"

Peter barked out a laugh that startled Stiles into giving him those big, brown doe-eyes. The ones that riled Peter's wolf up, made him want to chase Stiles thorough the forest and then ravish him once he caught his little prey. Chris appreciated the mental image.

"No, Bambi, it's…" Peter shook his head. "Big whoop. You created mountain ash and you say big whoop, like it's not a big deal. You baffle me."

"I mean it's not," Stiles blinked those big eyes at them both. "I literally just did it too. Sure, the first time, I took a couple moments to actually focus and get the hang of it but then it just… appeared."

"Stiles," Chris interjected, voice careful not to spook their boy. "You have magic."

"Yeah, that's…" Stiles frowned. "The whole point of this conversation? Keep up, Christopher."

The boy's sass made Chris grunt in exasperation. "No, Stiles, you have magic. That's what makes you special. Humans don't have magic. Magic is borrowed and bargained for. Witches, druids, mages, they don't have magic. They use nature to filter out its magic by creating potions and rituals, they have to make sacrifices in exchange for magic, use catalysts like spells or runes to access magic. Magic lives in nature, not in people. Humans don't have magic."

"Creating something – anything – out of nothing is… incomprehensible," Peter continued, still staring at Stiles' hand with the mountain ash. "Human magic users have to give something in exchange to get something, to be granted access to the magic inherent in nature. Sparks don't have to do that, because they are magic, they carry magic inside them. They're the only born magic users. You… are… incredibly powerful and rare, sweetheart."

There was a moment of realization, Stiles' eyes widening and his cheeks flushing. "...Oh."

Peter chuckled and shook his head while leaning back against the couch. "Yeah, oh."

Even without being a wolf, Chris could tell the moment Stiles' heart-rate was picking up with anxiety. He's become an expert at reading their boy. Reaching out, he took Stiles' hand, letting the mountain ash fall onto the ground. The physical touch relaxed Stiles a little.

"That motherfucker," Stiles spat, all of a sudden, eyes filled with heat and hatred. "He knew. I have no idea how, or how long, but he knew. And he only told me when it became useful to whatever twisted plans he has, but even then he didn't tell me, he just told me as much as he deemed I needed to know. Fuck, I should have stolen more of his books."

"You can still do that, sweetheart," Peter offered lightly, smiling at their boy. "But how about for now, we focus on the ones you already have? I'm assuming you stole them to learn how to use your magic. And you… came to us…"

Well, on that one, Peter and Chris were equally lost. Stiles had admitted he hadn't even told Scott, so why would he come to them? They exchanged a brief look before focusing on Stiles again.

"Research," Stiles replied, motioning at the books. "Technically also valuable for our project. But even beyond that, we've found a real good groove when it comes to research so I figured…"

"You want our help figuring out what you can do," Peter looked delighted.

Chris grunted his agreement, crossing his arms over his chest. "Let's read up on it first – this is new territory for me too. Hunters… We're taught that Sparks are fairy tale creatures, like unicorns."

It got him a brilliant laugh from Stiles and then the three of them dove into the books.

/break\

The first pack bonding activity that Stiles, Scott and Allison got to join as official pack-members was a trip into the mountains beyond Beacon Hills. It had made Stiles grin smugly at Derek the whole way there, to the point that Stiles was fairly sure the Alpha regretted accepting him into the pack. And yet. All he got was a near fond eye-roll because damn it all to hell, Derek was… Derek was his best friend, after Scott, at this point. He trusted the man wit his life, with the lives of those he loved the most. And Derek had become a good Alpha. A really damn good one.

It had been the abduction of Chris, Melissa and Stiles' dad that had been the tipping point for Allison and Scott. Derek had gone against his girlfriend – and oh boy, more trauma for the poor guy, what did Derek do to not deserve a happy relationship just once – when she'd turned out to be the darach. He hadn't doubted Stiles, not for a second, had sided with Stiles, Allison and Scott against her with no hesitation and if not for him, and Peter, they may not have found their parents in time. That was the final straw that both Allison and Scott needed to realize that Derek was a good Alpha, that it was good to be in his pack, that it was a place they should want to be in.

Apparently, the Hale Pack still owned a lodge, on the other side of the mountain, nearer to the next town over than to Beacon Hills, really. Gorgeous view down the mountain and to the lake that gave their neighboring town its name. It was breathtaking, it was special and Stiles knew it was all to celebrate the newest members of the Hale Pack because the big, grumpy Alpha was just a big, soft marshmallow on the inside, full of mush and love for his pack.

He smiled softly as he looked out the window and at the silver glistening lake. The mountain wasn't inhabited, the next lodge or cabin was over an hour away and wasn't a permanent residence either. Which meant the wolves could run and how freely, the wolves and hunters could hunt. They'd had deer for dinner today, hunted by them all together. Lydia had not been pleased by the dead animals being dragged into their temporary home, so Stiles had sent her out before grabbing a butcher's knife with glee. Some of the betas were a little disturbed by it, but he once again held Peter and Chris' full and undivided attention as he took the animals apart, with Chris' help (which did worry Stiles because he thought Chris' attention should be on the butcher knife in his own hand while taking apart their dinner, not on Stiles). It had been an absolute blast.

Voices, hushed and filled with joy and teasing, drew his attention to two people coming down the stairs. Raising an eyebrow, Stiles watched how Chris and Peter stumbled into the kitchen and, a few minutes later, came out with… the can of whipped cream in Peter's hand.

"Well, I guess I don't have to ask why you are still awake," Stiles stated dryly.

They'd come out as a couple to the whole pack a few weeks ago. It had been cute how nervous Chris was about Allison's reaction, just for her to roll her eyes and declare she'd known for two months and figured they just had a mutual agreement to ignore the werewolf sneaking out of the other's bedroom (which had caused Scott to yelp and flush embarrassed). The couple froze, both staring at him much like the deer had when their group had cornered them. It was cute and very flattering for Stiles that he could put that expression on a hunter and a werewolf. Delightful.

"Sweetheart, why are you still awake," Peter asked startled.

Stiles shrugged and turned back toward his laptop. They, of course, didn't accept that answer. They walked over to him, Christ resting a heavy, large hand on Stiles' shoulder, causing him to take a shuddering breath through his nose. Damn them both.

"Okay, but if this traumatizes you, do remember that you insisted," Stiles tilted his head back to look up at Chris. "I have been sexiled by my roommate and your daughter."

They were all paired up, two sharing a room. Chris and Peter had been the only couple allowed to share because they were adults and them and Derek refused to spend a week in a house where three horny teen couples were going at it like bunnies. So Stiles had, naturally, paired up with Scott, Lydia with Allison of course, Erica with Cora, Boyd with Jackson and Isaac with Derek.

"Retrospectively, I should have seen this coming and should have called dibs on Derek," Stiles glowered. "Let Isaac deal with Scott and Allison. Or better yet Jackson. They could have just switched rooms with their partners instead of having to throw one of us poor, pathetic singles out."

The two men exchanged a couple looks that must have spoken volumes to them but meant nothing to Stiles yet. Their couple language, Stiles was still working on deciphering. It was thrilling.

"Up," Peter ordered, grabbing Stiles' upper arm and hauling him off the chair.

"Woah, hey, I thought we were past the kidnapping-Stiles-phase of our relationship, Peter!"

Peter simply rolled his eyes at him, pulling him along. "You're not going to sleep down here. You're coming with us, you can stay in our room."

"Why, are you inviting me to a threesome?" Stiles gave him an impish, shit-eating grin.

Mischief danced in his eyes even though it was what he wanted most in probably the whole damn world. His heart squeezed a little. He'd spent months flirting with them both, even before they got together. And then they did get together. How bad must he suck at seduction that the two men he was flirting with ended up together, with each other, instead of either of them with him…?

"To sleep," Chris heaved a deep, exasperated sigh. "We won't let you sleep at the table. And don't deny you would. I have seen you sleep sitting upright at my own damn kitchen table."

"First of all, that only happened once, secondly, I didn't have coffee yet, and thirdly it was like five AM after a research binge," Stiles defended himself with a flustered glare, before calming down a little. "Look. I appreciate the offer, but I'll be fine. You were clearly not going to bed to sleep and I don't want to ruin your night. I'll be fine. Stop glaring at me, Christopher. If you're so insistent about me sleeping in a 'bed', I'll crash with Der and Isaac! Heck, wouldn't even be the first time I'd lseep in the same bed as either of them."

Stiles stumbled right into Peter when the wolf suddenly stilled. "What."

Blinking confused, Stiles stared at him. "Isaac's been like breaking into my bedroom for months now. We… We ran into each other at the cemetery, when we were both visiting our moms and… Yeah. He's been crashing at my place whenever he misses her too much."

The sharp look on Chris' face softened so unfathomably much that it took Stiles' breath away. Next to him Peter didn't look entirely satisfied just yet though, his eyes remained narrowed.

"And Derek. My grown, adult nephew," Peter inquired.

One unimpressed eyebrow cocked did Stiles look him dead in the eye. "We fuck like animals."

Holy shit. Stiles jumped and nearly hit his head against the wall at the near feral growl ripping from Peter's throat. What the fuck. Grasping his heart, Stiles tried to calm down.

"God. Damn. It. Hale," Stiles hissed. "The fuck was that. I was mocking you! For making weird insinuations about me and our Alpha! Christ! I kept falling asleep at the loft after research binges during the week and at one point, he started taking pity on me on his couch so he let me crash in his bed. It's not like it's weird, we're literally pack? What even was that reaction. You nearly act like you're jea…" Stiles blinked repeatedly at the way Peter tensed up. "A… Are you jealous?"

Peter actually flinched a little at that and what. Stiles' eyes flew over to Chris who looked conflicted but not… disgusted or appalled. So he'd known about this. Whatever 'this' was. Shaking his head, Stiles grabbed them both by their wrists and dragged them over to their bedroom, shutting the door behind them and pinning them both with a withering glare.

"Are you actually fucking kidding me?" Stiles spat irritated.

This time, Peter flinched properly. And okay. Not a reaction he ever thought he'd have on any wolf. Both Peter and Chris looked at him like… Wait. Closing his eyes, Stiles took a slow, deep breath to calm down a little, and then he looked at them again and yep. They looked like he held all of the power in the room, like they expected him to hurt them. They were expecting a painful rejection.

"You are two of the smartest men I know, how can you be this dense and stupid?" Stiles whispered, utterly exasperated as he leaned against the closed door. "I have been flirting with you two for months now, even before you got together, but none of you ever acted on it and I started to think that Chris was just politely pretending he didn't notice to not have to explicitly let me down while Peter just… flirts like other people breath air so he didn't notice."

"You… what?" Chris' voice cracked a little.

"I wasn't being subtle!" Stiles yelped, throwing his hands up in the air. "I took apart a gun while intentionally making direct eye-contact with you, did you think that was a platonic thing? I could not have been less subtle if I…" Stiles snorted out a laugh. "I was about to say 'if I crawled into your laps', but I literally actually did that, damn it. What did you think that meant? Did that look or feel in any way No Homo to you? That was All The Homo, damn it."

"I mean… You… have been seeking more physical contact with the whole pack," Peter argued. "You just said that it wasn't weird that you slept in the same bed as Derek!"

"Because it wasn't," Stiles frowned at him like he was stupid (because he was actively being stupid here). "The act of just sleeping in a bed together is in no way romantic or sexual? I used to crawl into my parents' beds all the time as a kid. When Scott was over for sleepovers we slept in my bed together until we got too big to both fit in them. Sleeping isn't sexual, Creeperwolf. But there is… very little platonic angle to crawling into someone's lap and wrapping your legs around their waist."

Stiles gave Peter the most pointed glare he could muster even as he started to feel incredibly exhausted. He hadn't thought they were too dense to notice. He really, truly had not been subtle. Both men stared at him in utter bafflement, like this was a fully new revelation to them.

"I thought you were just being clingy," Peter sounded like a pouting child. "I didn't want to assume. You are too precious to us to push you away by making greedy, wrong assumptions."

Stiles' heart jumped into his throat at the sincerity in Peter's voice. "What."

"Stiles," Chris huffed out a sound that was close to a laugh. "The reason why Peter and I even got together in the first place was because you were driving us both wild with desire. And we were the only ones who knew about what the other wanted. We were… united in our want for you. Granted, it did escalate from thereon out into something that wasn't… inherently about you anymore."

His eyes drifted over to Peter and his look was so loving and gentle that it caused the wolf to make a soft sound. Oh. Stiles swallowed hard, unsure what to do with this information.

"Why did you never say anything?" Stiles asked desperately. "I mean, fuck, I know why I didn't say it! You're the dad of one of my best friends. I didn't need to make things awkward if you weren't picking up what I was putting down. I didn't want to say the words because I didn't want to hear you say that you're 'flattered but you're just too young for us, kiddo'."

And he spat the word 'kiddo' out like it was poison. He knew, okay. He knew he was seventeen and they were more than twice his age and he didn't need to feel patronized about his feelings.

"You could have considered that your age might be why we didn't say anything either," Chris offered, raising both his eyebrows. "You're younger than my daughter, Stiles. Do you not think I spent months feeling guilty and wrecked and wrong for how much I want you?"

Stiles swallowed hard, again, his eyes going to Peter, who just shrugged. "Oh, I don't have morals. That wasn't my issue. You killed me, sweetheart, and I kept trying to seize just how much of your trust and affection I could gather in that time and how much you still resented me for what I did to Scott, and to Lydia. You are terrifyingly good at compartmentalizing. You can work with people you dislike, you worked with Jackson when you still resented him, so it's hard to… get a read on you."

"Oh," Stiles furrowed his brows. "Those… Those are both good arguments, I guess."

He crossed his arms over his chest. Not looking at them. He had no idea what would come next. What could come next. All of a sudden, he felt raw and vulnerable, naked in front of them. It was all out in the open now. What he wanted. What they wanted. And he didn't know what to do and it was quickly making his anxiety rise, his thoughts spiraling.

"Stiles," Chris' voice cut in, a careful hand touching his arm. "Hey. Stay with us, doll."

Doll. Stiles gave a genuine, involuntary whine at the nickname. Holy shit. Like Peter's constant sweetheart and Bambi didn't already get to him. The latter more so than the first though. He flushed embarrassed by the noise he'd just made. The look Chris gave him was pure hunger.

"I, uh, think like that pet-name," Stiles offered with a half-shrug.

"I think we could both tell," Peter snorted out an amused laugh.

Stiles flipped him off with a glare. "So. Are we… What is this now?"

"We want you," Chris spoke, voice honest and warm. "If you'll have us. Though…"

"Though we should maybe not go on public dates until I'm eighteen because every deputy in this town looks at me as either their kid brother or their surrogate son," Stiles raised his eyebrows.

"And you would be fine with that?" Peter frowned concerned. "Hiding? Lying to your father?"

"Didn't say my dad," Stiles tilted his head. "We have an agreement. When I lied to him, it… broke our relationship and it nearly got him killed. So we have an agreement now. Where I tell him the truth, all the truth, regardless of what it's about, and he, in return, doesn't judge or hold it against me, because otherwise I can't keep being honest with him and he can't… go on with me lying. So. He is not going to be the biggest fan of this, but he's also not going to kill you for sport. Well. Unless you break my heart, of course, so… just don't do that."

He offered the smallest, most teasing smile to them, filled with mischief and joy. And then he took a step forward, toward them, with all the intend he could muster and all the confidence he wasn't quite sure he had. He rested a hand on Peter's chest and one on Chris' chest and then he leaned in. First, to press a gentle kiss to Peter's lips and, just as the wolf wanted to deepen the kiss, he pulled away to instead also kiss Chris. Both growled at him after the kisses.

"That's teasing, sweetheart, I'm sure we can do better," Peter's eyes flashed blue.

Before Stiles could even open his mouth, he was pulled into a kiss deeper and more filthy than anything he could have imagined. It left him panting and gasping, mouth open and dizzy. He wasn't given a chance to regain his bearings because Chris' hand in the back of his head pulled him into the next kiss. Much less filthy but no less hot. Chris was dominant even in his kisses, strict. It made Stiles moan into the kiss, fingers curling into Chris' shirt.

"Okay," Stiles forced out once he could breath again. "Definitely gonna be doing more of that."

"Yes?" Peter grinned, nearly a leer, his hand gently tracing over Stiles' chest.

Stiles caught it at his naval. "Not now. First of all, I am so not losing my virginity while my best friend is literally two rooms over. Second of all, I'm not that easy or desperate. You guys gotta put a little effort in before I put out. I demand to be romanced first."

There was a near feral sound from Peter at the word 'virginity' and Chris' eyes also darkened, but to their credit, neither of them touched him or tried to change his mind. Instead, Chris looked amused.

"We're not going to pressure you into anything, sweetheart," Peter assured him, sounding more honest and serious than Stiles had maybe ever heard him. "We've both waited long for you now and we're more than happy to take everything at your pace."

"Okay," Stiles nodded pleased, even though he hadn't expected anything else. "Good. So. Bed? That offer still standing or do I have to go knocking on Dere-"

Peter growled and grabbed him by the waist, dragging him to the bed before he could even finish the sentence. Okay so Peter was seriously jealous of Derek. Stiles may or may not have to use that to his advantage – provided, of course, that Derek would be fine playing along (and considering what an absolute little shit Derek could be when he wanted to be and how much he delighted in tormenting his uncle, Stiles saw a good chance of it).

"Jealous wolf," Stiles muttered, slapping Peter's chest lightly.

"Yes," Peter grunted, a glare on his face and his arms around Stiles' waist, tugging him close.

"You have no idea, doll," Chris chuckled amused.

"If anyone, anyone, ever touches you in the wrong way, I will tear them apart."

There wasn't a word for the emotion that Stiles felt at this declaration. Hurt, pain, anger, grief and fear all twisted into the face of Gerard Argent and for a second, Stiles couldn't breath at the memories. And then he imagined Peter tearing the man apart and all that was left when all the dark emotions were torn asunder was warmth. Blinking away tears, Stiles leaned in and placed the most gentle kiss on Peter's lips. He was strong. He could fight, now, he had his gun, he had his magic. But a part of him would forever be that helpless kid getting tortured in that basement.

"We know you can protect yourself, Stiles," Chris noted softly. "But we'd still like to protect you."

A small smile spread over Stiles' lips as he turned toward the hunter and he could see by the conflicted look on Chris' face that he knew exactly where Stiles just went in his mind. So Stiles also pressed a loving kiss to Chris' lips, conveying without words that he didn't blame Chris for it.

"How about," Stiles spoke gently as he snuggled in between them. "We protect each other?"

"Yeah," Chris smiled a little. "I think we could do that, doll."

~*~ The End ~*~

[justatiredghost]

Collapse ch3

They are Somewhere Else, and Jon didn’t expect to make it. But now that he has, he has to try to figure out how to keep living. Martin helps. But how is this going to affect him and his connection to the Eye?

AO3

-

There was only so much room on the small hospital beds, and it seemed they were both relieved to finally be out of there, to finally have a bed where they could properly lay side-by-side again, holding each other close. 

It was dark, but Jon could still see the extent of the injuries Martin had acquired. His chest ached as he ran his hands along Martin’s bare side, wishing he could have protected him from all of that pain. Martin was likely thinking something similar, his own hand ghosting near a cut at Jon’s hairline. 

Martin took him by surprise when he leaned forward, placing a kiss there, careful not to touch the injury, moving down to place a kiss to the next injury he could see, on his shoulder, his arm. 

Jon still wasn’t used to this, to the depth of emotion Martin could show. He wasn’t used to anyone being glad about his continued survival, he didn’t deserve it. His eyes burned and his throat was tight as he watched Martin, a deep ache in his chest, wishing he had the words to impart the depths of what he felt for him. 

Martin’s movements stilled, his hand hovering near Jon’s stomach where, beneath the fabric of his shirt, they both knew lay the bandage where the blade had pierced him. He hesitated there for too long, grief and guilt written on his face, so Jon, shaking his head as if rejecting that guilt, reached out to take his hand, placing a kiss to his knuckles before holding it close to his chest as he leaned forward to hold him close. 

The last thing he wanted was for Martin to blame himself for that. They would need to talk about what happened eventually, to try to work out the tragedy they had gone through, the ways they hurt each other, and the horrible things they had found they were capable of. But right now, all he wanted to do was wipe away every bit of guilt he might feel, to apologize endlessly for causing all of this, sealing their fate when he ended the world. 

Words failed him, so instead he decided to return the favor, to hopefully show Martin how much he was loved, how glad he was to have him here, how lucky he felt being together, just as he had done for him a moment ago. So, he placed a kiss near his temple, his shoulder, near every burn and cut and bruise he’d received. He poured everything he had into every gentle touch, meeting Martin’s eyes every time as if to say he chose this. He chose Martin and he would continue to do so for as long as he wanted him here. 

Martin’s eyes were probably as red as his own when he finally grabbed Jon and pulled him in for a desperate kiss. There was no stopping the tears or the small devastated sound Jon made, knowing this was a pain in Martin that he couldn’t wipe away. They were a mess, so concerned with the other’s well being while oblivious to their own. Jon was sure he’d be haunted by Martin’s declaration that he would simply rather die than leave him alone, back in the tower. The thought twisted something inside him, breaking him apart, and made him fear he was going to cry for a completely different reason. And he knew Martin would rip himself apart for laying a hand on him even though it wasn’t his fault, he had no other choice. 

They were so exhausted and emotionally raw from everything, all of it exposed now that they were alone together under the blankets, but they held each other close, sharing the same air, Martin with his hand on Jon’s cheek, gently rubbing across stubble, and Jon with his arm wrapped around his middle, as if afraid he might fall away at any moment. Holding each other like this, their limbs were bound to go numb and they’d eventually overheat, but they were too reluctant to let go right now. Any discomfort felt worth it. 

Jon was pretty sure Martin had purposefully positioned himself with his ear pressed against Jon’s chest just so he could hear his beating heart, to reassure himself that he was alive. Jon was, of course, perfectly content with the position, endlessly running his fingers through Martin’s hair, enjoying the warmth of him. They both needed the reassurance that they weren’t alone, that they were together. Maybe it would help them believe that this really was happening. Maybe it would stave off the nightmares for just a little while. 

And that was something Jon was trying to get used to all over again. Having actual nightmares, instead of looming over his victims as he watched them suffer, useless and unable to help them. His mind was getting adept at conjuring up all sorts of horrors to torment him with the sort of fodder it had gained over the past years. No doubt they would be getting worse now that he was off the steady stream of sedatives and painkillers the hospital had him on. He was looking forward to at least being able to wake up to Martin’s comfortable weight when it did happen. 

A chill ran through him as a realization struck him and he desperately hoped that nights spent with Martin in his arms were memories he’d be allowed to keep. Any memories at all, really. If, or more likely when, the eye grew more powerful, would he lose all this again, like he had forgotten everything that had happened at Salesa’s? 

It was a frightening prospect, to wake up one day and lose the life he’d built here with Martin, to know he wouldn’t change with him, wouldn’t be able to keep the memories they made together. He wouldn’t know the extent Martin went through to make him feel loved, to make him feel safe. 

His eyes burned all over again at the thought and he closed them tightly, thankful that it seemed tonight was just an emotional night and Martin was unlikely to notice the difference. It wasn’t that he was trying to keep this from him, he’d tell him, soon. But maybe he could give Martin just this little bit of happiness before his health began to decline. Lord knows Martin deserved it.

He deserved better. He deserved so much more than all of this, so much more than Jon could possibly give. He was still determined to try, though. Because Martin was worth it. And because, for some inexplicable reason, Martin had chosen him. 

As he slipped off to sleep at last, it was with one thought that he knew to be true. If he did lose all of these new memories, instead of fading away completely, he would always be trapped in the moments after he’d doomed countless worlds and put Martin through so much pain. He would be trapped in all that guilt and self loathing forever looming over him, crushing him, never able to allow the agony to recede with the passage of time. And he would deserve it. He deserved to relive it every day for the rest of his life for what he had done, for all of the horror he has caused. He just wished Martin could be spared the constant reminder he would become. 

<ch1 - ch4>

[thesupreme316]

Could I have some of your favourite wrestlers reacting to the fem!reader heel turn

I GOT U (sorry for how long it took me)

Pairing(s): Hook x Fem!Reader (Platonic?), Eddie Kingston x Fem!Reader (Platonic), Darius Martin x Fem!Reader (Platonic), Dante Martin x Fem!Reader (Platonic), Daniel Garcia x Fem!Reader (Platonic?), Samoa Joe x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Summary: How would these men react to you turning heel?

Word Count: 849

Supreme Speaks: hiiiii, I might do these reaction scenarios more often cause this was fun to write (so please send in more). To @hookerforhook sorry that this took me so long but its here neow. Also I hope everyone is doing well and please remember that you are loved and appreciated.

Warnings: slightly proofread, gifs are not mine, i repeat gifs ARE NOT MINE

Taglist (if you wanna be a part of it, lemme know): @hookerforhook @hooks-martin @sheinthatfandom @wwenhlimagines @triscillal

To the locker room and the AEW fans, your character was a very talented wrestler but always saw the good in people. Which often leads you to be hurt physically and emotionally. So after one too many broken hearts, you decided to turn heel.

How you turn heel is completely up to you so choose your adventure (I also included examples). You either…

Attacked your teammate after losing another tag team match (Bayley on Sasha Banks)

Attacked your good friend due to you being jealous of them (anyone really)

Didn’t allow your tag team partner to tag you in the match, making your team lose (Tbh I could find an exact moment but Layla on AJ Lee)

Attacked the referee and your opponent after losing the title match (Michelle McCool on Maria/Becky Lynch on Charlotte)

You got offered a better deal by the rival team and decided to take it (Seth Rollins on the Shield)

Eddie Kingston

This man would be so calm about it

*after you attacked your friend* “Well, they had it coming”

Would not see you differently

In fact he would just be happy that you’re whooping ass and you’re not taking any shit from people

Still keeps it 100 with you about things

“If you attack them from behind, then you’re a coward. But if you hit them in the face, then you’re a real one”

In his eyes, you’re not a heel but you’re not a face

You’re just a person going through emotions and decided to let them out

Eddie understands you cause no one is truly/fully on one side or the other

I think Eddie would just say as long as you don’t hurt him physically or emotionally, then you’re good

Overall…Eddie is happy you chose violence as your answer

Hook

It’ll definitely surprise him

He didn’t take you one for being a heel

But isn’t mad at the idea

Silent with his opinions 

But tbh I think he would believe the whole 180 change with you is hot

“You look very good…Almost too good.” 

Will tell you that he likes the aggressive yet playful mood you display in the ring now

Loves the change in ring gear and theme song

Will wear your new merch in instagram pictures

Honestly, might inspire him to turn heel himself

Overall…Hook loves to see this new attitude within you

Samoa Joe

OH THIS MAN IS A MENACE

NOW THIS MAN IS AN ACTUAL HEEL

He would automatically smirk and congrats you  

“Welcome to the dark side”

I genuinely believe he would become a fan of you

Constantly reference you or just show his support on twitter (cause that man is a menace)

Gives you tips on how to appear more of a threat to your opponents

I believe that this Joe would become a mentor

100% would teach you the Coquina Clutch

Will laugh when you embarrass your opponent

“I taught them that! I did that!”

Overall…Samoa Joe would be that supportive father who’s just happy you joined him

Top Flight (Darius and Dante Martin)

OKAY HERE ME OUT….they are all for it IM JUST SAYIN-

At first, Darius and Dante would be sad about it

Would be more saddened at the fact you have to stand across the ring from them instead of next to them

But will recognize that you are happier and are getting a lot more credit and camera time because of the turn

Will put your overall happiness over how they feel

Will still hang out with you behind the cameras (obvi)

Helps you decide on new moves or highflying moves you can do

Will hype you up backstage as you kick ass

“Kick her in the face Y/N!”

Will post pictures of you with the caption “We stan with Y/N”

Overall…Top Flight will be so supportive of you no matter what

Daniel Garcia

MENACE PT.2

“I CALLED IT”

Would immediately offer you a spot in JAS (please decline…)

Like Joe, Daniel would also reference you in tweets

I would like to believe that he would also start flirting with you 

Just full on rizz game on 100

“I may not be a photographer, but I can picture us together.”

Like Hook, would also believe this new attitude of yours is hot

Makes fun of your opponents and taunt them backstage (in effort to get you to join JAS, again say no)

Will also make fun of you (lightheartedly) and compare you to him

Will retweet you and start a banter with you just for shits and giggles

“So you think you can take my place as AEW’s favorite child?” “You were never anyone’s favorite.” “Take that back!”

Overall…Daniel would become infatuated with you and is happy for you

[aspenlovesmedia]

Ep 117: Good for you Jonathan. Oh wait he would have heard Basira and Melanie’s conversation about him and Martin! Omg I’d forgotten about that lol.

Okay, so the fact they used Icarus as a fake surname for Leitner is so funny because yeah that’s pretty accurate to how everything happened with him. He flew too close to the sun (the supernatural) and he fell because of it (ended up in hiding and was then killed).

I say let Melanie deck Elias. It would be a great way to get some anger out and it would be funny.

OH MY GOD FINALLY MELANIE!

Are they going to burn the Archive?

Yeah, someone is going to die and I have a hunch it would be Basira. If you’re wondering why I think that, Tim is too obvious, and it would hurt everyone else a lot. Jonathan obviously won’t because main character, and while I think Daisy is the next most likely, her death wouldn’t hit the other characters as hard emotionally, although I can picture her being killed off to show the strength of the enemy sort of thing.

Honestly good for you Tim. Kill some mannequin circus things. That being said, I don’t think Gertrude is the best person to emulate.

Oh good he burned the page. Rip Jerry. That did sound like it hurt Jonathan. That does make sense though. If he’s a part of something that wants/possibly needs knowledge, of course destroying that would hurt. At least, that’s my theory on it.