#lydia falls in love all over again on the spot and i think that is very nice | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ladamedusoif · 1 year ago

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Visiting - Chapter 9: Open Your Eyes

(Moodboard by @cutesyscreenname)

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in a small New England town, to spend a year expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor of art history at a small liberal arts college. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

Chapter summary: It's the new year and the new semester. Reunited in Barrow for the first time since her hasty departure, Lydia and Ben have some talking to do.

Word Count: 10.2k (they have a lot to get through!)

Rating: Explicit (MDNI; 18+)

Content (chapter specific): Professor Ben College AU; smaller-than-usual-for-this-fandom age gap (Lydia is 42, and Ben is 47); canon is not a thing here; slow burn; idiots-to-lovers; smut; fingering; PiV sex; strong language; alcohol consumption; weight and body insecurity; serious self-esteem issues; references to panic attacks and anxiety disorders; references to past infidelity (not by Ben or Lydia); angst central.

A/N: The title of this chapter is inspired by something Ben says to Lydia, which then made me think of this song by Snow Patrol. The video is a slightly edited version of C'était un rendez-vous, a 1976 short by the French director Claude Lelouch, so I feel that it fits this pair of idiots on multiple levels. (I frickin' love this film and I think it works gorgeously for the song.)

youtube

Thank you to everyone who's shown so much love for this pair so far - every comment, reblog, like, interaction, ask is just a joy to me.

Further A/N at the end of the chapter.

See the Series Masterlist for an outline of Lydia's story and background.

Cross-posting to AO3.

Chapter 8 - Chapter 10

@lunapascal and @julesonrecord - this has been a tough chapter, again, and I've needed the guidance and encouragement along the way. Thank you, as always, for your love for the dorksicles as well as your incredibly wise and insightful suggestions and editorial eyes. Bendie are forever thankful. You may well spot some of your specific suggestions in this chapter...

Taglist:

@lunapascal, @julesonrecord, @cutesyscreenname, @tessa-quayle, @vermillionwinter, @iamskyereads, @tieronecrush, @perennialdoll247, @love-the-abyss, @imaswellkid, @intheorangebedroom, @javierisms, @fuckyeahdindjarin, @littlemisspascal, @khindahra, @pedrostories, @readingiskeepingmegoing, @ruebyretro, @rhoorl, @red-red-rogue, @princessanglophile, @katareyoudrilling

Your father interpreted your tears at the airport in January as homesickness.

“Just think, Lyd, it’s only a few more months, really.” He pats your arm, reassuring you as he always has. “And then you’ll be back over this side of the pond again and back to your real job and your normal life. And not so far away from all of us!”

You cried into his shoulder as you hovered near the entrance to the security screening area.

A final hug, a wipe of your tears, a brave face, and a wave goodbye.

You were homesick, or something like it. In this case, though, you were homesick for someone, not somewhere; homesick for him, for his smile, his kindness, his eyes, his careful embrace, his humour, his gentle strength.

And you were sick to your stomach with the constant, nagging fear that you had already destroyed that new and fragile home, all by yourself.

You knew he wouldn’t be back in Barrow until just before teaching resumed for the new semester - a long-standing plan to make additional use of his time on the west coast by getting some research done in specialist libraries.

You are torn between relief at not having to see him yet, not having to deliver your promised explanation, and feeling deeply anxious about the impact of the prolonged separation on Ben’s feelings towards you. He had suggested before Christmas that space was needed, and you’d agreed. The more significant that space became, however, the more you worried.

It wasn’t as if you were back in normal contact. Save for an exchange on New Year’s Eve, when you’d received a message from him sent at exactly midnight your time (and you reciprocated, setting your alarm so that you would wake just before midnight California time to send the message), there’d been next to no communication.

Kate reassures you via FaceTime. “Lyd, calm down. Like I said at Christmas, if this is all it takes to change his feelings then it’s a doomed enterprise.”

“I think it might be a doomed enterprise anyway, what with me having to go back to my job over there in September.”

She rolls her eyes. “Alright, Apocalypse Lyd. Go on, catastrophise all you want. Not like anyone ever did a long-distance relationship or anything. Have you seen him yet?”

You shake your head. “He’s on research in California - pre-planned. Not back until next week.”

“You ready to talk it out?”

You pause, close your eyes, and take a deep breath. “Honestly? I won’t know until I see him again.”

“Happy New Year, Lydia!”

No such thing as January blues as far as Susan is concerned. You reach into your tote bag to retrieve a box of candies you’d picked up as a gift for her. “How were the holidays? I hope you got a well-deserved rest.”

You can hear her sincere expressions of gratitude and surprise as she starts to answer your question, but your mind is elsewhere. You cast your eyes along the rows of wooden cubby holes, each labelled with a staff member’s name.

B.E. MORALES

The sight of his full name makes your heart hurt.

“…and that is why Nick’s mother is never doing the holidays with us again, so help me.” Susan pauses. “Lydia, are you okay? Don’t take this personally, but you look terrible.”

Hard not to take that personally, Susan.

You try to rearrange your features into something resembling a smile. “It’s probably just jet lag or something. And I had my hands full at home with the niblings - they’re both under four so…” you make a goofy face and shrug your shoulders, hoping to distract from the bags under your eyes and your worn-out complexion.

Susan studies you for a moment and then beams. “Been there, done that! Nothing a cup of coffee won’t fix.”

Shit. The mention of coffee conjures up a mental image of Ben at your office door, armed with the two mugs. When you remember the smile on his face that last day you scrunch up your eyes, as if in pain.

You fucked it up, Lyd.

The rest of the week passes in a grey haze. You oscillate between anxiety and profound sadness, cortisol rushing through your veins as you try to work out how you can fix it, and then a feeling of absolute exhaustion as you realise you probably can’t. Your to-do list mounts, unable even to distract yourself with work.

The worst part is the knowledge that you did this. You’ve got no one else to blame. You freaked out. You ran away. You wrote your stupid note and you left him, all because you didn’t want to give in to the reality of your feelings - and the risk of loss that always comes with that.

Of course you fucked it up. You always do. You’re broken. Who would ever want you?

With a week to go before teaching, you lock into preparation mode. It’s a useful distraction, checking reading lists, planning seminar and workshop outlines, and catching up with some of your students who’ve already returned to campus.

You arrange a tutorial with Nia, one of the students in the additional workshop groups run as part of Ben’s equality and diversity initiative, to discuss her initial plans for an “un-essay” assignment - a form of assessment that allows the student to respond to the brief in any number of creative ways.

Her un-essay ideas include a reflective piece on food in poetry by Black women writers - with accompanying dishes. She’s a bright, smart girl, keen to tell you all the books she read over the break and compare notes on your choice of holiday movies.

Just before she leaves your office, she picks up her tote bag and rummages inside, producing a pretty, round tin and placing it on your desk.

“Made you some of my peanut butter cookies. I noticed you like Reese’s, so I assumed you might like these, too.”

You beam at Nia, heart swelling at the sweet thoughtfulness of her gesture. “You’re so kind! I can’t wait to try these.”

She reciprocates your smile as she heads to the door. “There’s plenty there for you and Professor Ben to share. See you in class!”

Wait. What? Did the students think… shit. Maybe she just said that because he ran the programme. That was probably it.

You open the tin, take out a cookie, and try not to think about it.

ANI: Hey Lyd! I’m just in the neighbourhood, you home?

LYDIA: Yep, just putting away some laundry. You want to pop by?

ANI: Great! See you soon.

You buzz Ani in, leaving your front door open as usual once you hear their steps on the stairs. “Hey, Lyd. Just thought I’d call round to say hi,” Ani explains, taking off their big winter coat and hanging it on the coat rack in the hallway.

“You want some tea? Or something stronger?”

Ani nods, settling themselves on your couch. “Tea would be amazing.”

“Sure thing.” You continue the conversation from your tiny kitchen. Ani reminds you of the drinks party at Jen’s house on Friday night, in two days’ time - it’s her wife, Rachel’s, birthday, and she’s invited some faculty colleagues.

Given how close she is to Ben, having joined the faculty at the same time, he’ll almost certainly be there - assuming he’s back by then. You feel nauseous.

Ani gratefully takes their cup of hot tea - made strong, as they prefer - crosses their legs, and looks at you with what you suspect is concern. “Lyd, are you doing okay?”

“Why’d you ask?”

They sigh, placing the steaming cup down on the coffee table as you join them on the couch. “Lyd, you’ve been completely out of sorts since you came back. And I’m pretty sure it’s not just homesickness, as you claimed when Evan asked you if you were okay earlier this week.”

You open your mouth, ready to protest, but Ani shakes their head and places a hand on your knee to still you.

“We’re worried about you, Lyd. Obviously, it’s up to you what you do or don’t want to tell me, but just know that I am here for you. That we’re here for you.”

You sip your tea and nod, averting your eyes.

Ani purses their lips, hands wrapped around their cup. “I could be way off with this, and yell at me if I am. But - Lyd, is there - was there - something happening between you and Ben?”

You stare at the floor, afraid you’ll give too much away in your expression if you look at them directly.

“Lydia? If I’ve got this wrong, tell me. If it’s something else…”

Your voice is almost inaudible. “It’s not. I mean, you’re not wrong. That is… yeah. How did you know?”

Ani sips their tea, allowing themselves a little smile. “I mean I didn’t know know, I just had a feeling. I knew you guys were close but it’s academia, y’know? That’s not unusual, and he really wanted to help you settle in. But then we went out for your birthday, that’s what made me really wonder.”

You raise your eyebrows, still hunched up staring at the floor. They take their phone out of their bag, swiping through their photo album back through the weeks and months to your birthday weekend. “Look, we’re academics - we love the evidence, we search for proof. So here’s my source.”

Ani presses play on a video that, at first glance, is a selfie of them dancing at the bar with Evan, making faces into the camera.

“Lyd, look at the action in the background.”

Even the slightly out-of-focus footage has captured the huge smiles on both your faces as Ben reaches for you and you move together in time with the music. He beams at you, eyes crinkling as he laughs when you throw in an extra move. Your eyes are shining. Your joy is so obvious, so beautiful after so many years of numbness and hurt, and so painful knowing what you would do to him just a few weeks later.

Ani breaks the silence and tries to lighten the mood. “Basically, since then I’ve been waiting for you guys to finally wise up and just fuck. It took ages to convince Ev, for some reason. I think he was pissed that I saw it first. And then it turned out that David was on the ball first. Evan was furious.” You huff a laugh, covering your face with your free hand.

“When I heard you’d spent Thanksgiving together, I thought the Eagle had landed. Wrong, of course.”

“We, um - we did kiss on Thanksgiving. But we thought it was by mistake.”

Ani rolls their eyes. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Fucking dorks. Fucking idiots, in fact.”

You giggle in spite of yourself. “And - David. He saw it in how we were together. He - he told me he thought Ben had feelings for me a couple of days before I went home for the holidays, and -”

“And I think he might have told Ben the same, to help you two realise. Or at least, to help you act on what you already knew.” Their voice is gentle and kind. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“I…shit.” You stammer, tripping over your words and trying not to cry. “I did something really fucking stupid. I ruined it, like I always do, and now I can’t fix it and -“

The tears start to fall.

“I don’t know what to do. I… he’s really hurt. I hurt him, Ani. I care about him so much and I fucking hurt him. I don’t think I can make it right.”

Ani wraps an arm around you, pulling you in for a hug.

“Start at the beginning, Lyd. And whatever happened, you probably can fix this, you know?”

Ani puts their hands on your shoulders as you stand on Jen and Rachel’s doorstep. Their dark eyes are serious but kind, their face framed by an enormous black faux fur Cossack hat.

“What do you got, Lyd?”

You bite your lip. “I…I got this.”

“You got this. Let’s go, girl.”

At first, you think he didn’t come. You move through the hallway into Jen and Rachel’s spacious, open-plan living and dining room, scanning the clusters of guests for a familiar face. A mixture of relief and disappointment floods your brain. You can relax now, right? In search of a drink, you head for the kitchen, and -

He’s talking animatedly to a couple of colleagues from literature, those kind eyes crinkling behind his glasses as he smiles and laughs. He’s wearing a plaid Henley shirt in a sort of blue and purple flannel, with a dark blue cardigan over it. Hair neat, but long enough to brush the top of his shirt collar. As gorgeous as you remembered - more so, even.

Your heart races and your stomach leaps at the sight of him. Sure, you’re nervous. But it’s not just that. The physical symptoms of anxiety have much in common with the physiological manifestations of sexual and romantic attraction, after all, and a quick glance at him is enough to confirm just how bad you have it.

You reach for a glass of red wine from the selection of drinks set out on the kitchen island, and you beat a hasty retreat before he spots you.

He saw you, of course. He’s been watching and waiting for you, observing the other guests just as you’d done, simultaneously hoping and fearing he would look up and meet your gaze across the room.

Now that you’re there, he’s not entirely sure what he should do. Like you, he’s wary of confrontation, of taking action and getting it ‘wrong’, without knowing the consequences ahead of time.

But, despite the slight thaw caused by your sporadic contact over the break, he’s also hurt and more than a little stubborn. You left with just a note. You casually brushed off the night you spent together, in spite of everything he tried to show you about how he felt about you. Surely you needed to make the first move now?

Even so, his heart lifts when he sees you across the room. Photos on his phone don’t do you justice, don’t capture the way you move, the way your eyes catch the light, the essential you-ness that he has been so enamoured with.

He decides not to let on that he’s noticed you.

Ani catches up with you near one of the floor-to-ceiling fitted bookshelves that line the living room. “I know it’s easier to just hide here feigning interest in their book collection, Lyd, but -”

“I’m not feigning interest! I’m curious about other people’s books.” You tilt your head and continue reading the titles from the spines, until Ani moves their body between you and the books.

“Lydia. I swear to fucking God. He’s right fucking there,” Ani hisses, jerking their head in the direction of the kitchen. “I will march you in there and I will make you talk to each other.”

You can feel your palms getting clammy, and you place your wine glass down on a coaster in case it slips from your nervous grasp. “And what do I say, Ani? How do I do this? It’s not exactly private…”

They nod over at Rachel, who’s just come into the room, smiling and mouthing birthday wishes before turning back to you. “You’re a forty-two year old woman with a PhD, Lyd. It’s not beyond your capabilities to ask him to speak to you outside, or in their guest bathroom, or bedroom, or wherever.” Their tone is irritated, and you close your eyes as if shielding yourself from further hurt.

“Lyd, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be harsh. It’s just - come on. We talked about this. I know exactly what you feel for him. I have a hunch he feels the same for you - everything you said suggests it. You fucking care so much about each other.” They inhale deeply, lightly reaching for your hand. “Why not just tell him? From what you said about that night, you made it pretty clear you were into him, and vice versa.”

You open your eyes and meet Ani’s kind expression. “And if it’s what I fear? What if all the space we’ve had has convinced him nothing more can happen?”

They squeeze your hand. “Neither of us know what he’s going to say. But you’ve been through so much worse, Lyd. You survived the kind of shit that could destroy some people. So, if it’s bad now - well, you’ll survive again. And if it’s good -”

“Then I have to leave it all behind in a few months, when the fellowship is done.”

Ani cocks an eyebrow. “Now you’re just making fucking excuses. Come on,” they take your hand and usher you towards the dining table, laid out with snacks, “let’s get some chips and dip first. Call it sustenance for the campaign ahead.”

Ani’s strategy, it transpires, is to take one of the vintage Chip n’ Dip dishes and to saunter into the kitchen with it, moving steadily towards the cluster of literature professors as you trail behind.

They greet your colleagues enthusiastically and starts passing around the food. You can feel your face starting to burn as you try to cast a glance at Ben, to gauge his mood from the look on his face. You furtively take in his expression, and it breaks your heart. From the smiling, talkative man you’d seen when you arrived, his eyes have darkened and his lips are set in a firm line.

Ani quietly nudges you, encouraging you to make the first move and break through the invisible shield he’s placing between the two of you.

Your mouth is dry and your palms are clammy as you start to speak to him. You try not to think about the last time you’d seen him. “H-h-hi. D-did you enjoy the holidays?”

He turns slightly towards you, still avoiding looking at you directly. “They were good. Nice to be with family.” He sighs and takes a large sip of his wine.

Silence. It’s all you can do to avoid your natural tendency to fill the gap with rambling chit-chat. You nudge him slightly out of the group to avoid being overheard.

“Could we talk, just for a few minutes? I need to -“

At this, he finally makes eye contact with you, and the hurt in his brown eyes is almost more than you can bear. He responds quietly but firmly.

“You want to talk? You want to talk, here? Now? At a party?” He sounds incredulous.

“I told you I’d explain, and I told you it would be easier to do that face to face. So, here we are.” You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from starting to cry or lashing out, channeling your anxiety and irritation into sarcasm. “Forgive me for taking this rare opportunity to have a very important conversation with you,” you hiss.

He huffs and rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you really need to say, anyway,” he mutters quietly, “you made your feelings clear.” His expression is hard as he steps away and moves to walk out of the kitchen. In a reflex action, you reach out and lightly touch his wrist. He turns back for a moment.

“I told you I was sorry and that I could explain. That note… that’s not my feelings.” You drop your head to stare at the floor, before lifting it back to meet his gaze. “If you want to talk to me, I’ll be out at the front porch, okay? I need some fresh air, anyway. But I also really want a chance to talk. Please.”

And he’s gone.

You didn’t think through the whole ‘outdoor chat’ thing. New England January nights are colder than anything you’ve regularly experienced before, and you have been sitting on the front steps of Jen and Rachel’s home for what feels like forever. In truth, it’s been about ten minutes - but the more time that goes by without any sign of Ben, the more you despair. Although you’re snuggled into your bulky winter coat, face barely visible underneath your warm, red cable-knit hat and scarf set, the cold is starting to bite.

You tug off a glove and reach into your pocket for your phone, composing a message for Ani:

Hey. I asked him to come out and talk but he doesn’t want to. I’m going home - just can’t be in there. I’m sorry - please apologise to Rachel and Jen for me, say I’m sick or something. x

You start off down the path from the front door to the pavement, double-checking the route on your phone. The house isn’t too far away from your apartment building, and a walk might help clear your head.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

The snowflakes cling to your coat and hat, the flurries intensifying quickly. You swipe open the app on your phone, fingers stiff in the freezing weather. No cabs.

“Fuck this.”

As you round the block and head for home, the tears start to fall, soaking into the woollen scarf wrapped around your mouth.

“Where’s Lyd? Did you talk to her?”

Ani finds Ben sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the shelves displaying Rachel’s substantial record collection, flipping through the vinyls as if he’s looking for something in particular.

He isn’t. He just can’t bear trying to be normal and socialise with everyone else again, not after seeing you. There’s an ache in his chest as he thinks about the pleading look in your eyes when you asked him to come and hear what you had to say.

His stomach churns as he wonders if you’re still waiting for him.

He feigns interest in a copy of Blonde on Blonde, staring at the liner notes like he’s never seen the record before in his life. “She said she wanted to talk, that she’d meet me outside, but I - I couldn’t.”

Ani looks murderous and runs a hand over their dark curls.

“You couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?”

“Does it matter? Given that you’re asking about this, I’m assuming you know what happened.”

Ani scoots down to sit beside Ben on the floor. Their voice is low but intense. They are not mincing their words.

“I know what happened. I know that she messed up. I have told her she messed up. She knows she messed up. But I also know why she messed up and that you need to hear her out. If not for your sake or her sake, then for all our sakes. I can’t take much more of the two of you moping around like this.”

He shrugs. Ani rolls their eyes.

“So help me, Benjamin Morales, you can be a stubborn fucking asshole.”

Ben furrows his brow and sucks his teeth.

Jen appears, her attention caught by the sight of Ani visibly berating Ben from their spot on the floor. “Have you spoken to Lydia, Ben?”

Ani raises their brows. “How did you know?”

Jen waves her hand, as if exasperated by her old friend. “I had my suspicions, eventually got it out of him earlier this week, now he’s being an idiot because he’s not doing what I told him and going to speak to Lyd.” She looks around her living room. “Where is Lyd?”

“Outside,” Ben mutters.

Jen, face like thunder, pokes him in the back with the toe of her block-heeled boot. “I love you like a brother but if you don’t get the fuck out and find that woman, I will never speak to you again.”

You wrap your scarf tighter around your face, trying to shield yourself from the increasingly heavy snowfall. You have never been so grateful for the solid strength and warmth of your dark red Dr Martens.

Thank fuck I wore jeans and a blouse, you think. Could have been the wrap dress.

You pause for a moment to give your face a break from the onslaught of the snow and wind, turning your back to the persistent flurries.

“LYD?”

At first, you think you’re imagining it. It’s a noise on the wind, whipping snow at your face and burying your heart cold and deep.

“LYDDIE?”

That is definitely not a noise on the wind.

You turn around to see Ben steadily walking towards you, his black Dr Martens shoes crunching through the fresh snow that’s already covering your footprints.

He’s wearing the merino wool watchcap you made him for Christmas, the Prussian blue perfectly complementing the navy wool of his pea coat. A little voice inside you pipes up that he couldn’t hate you, at least, if he was wearing something you’d made for him with your own two hands.

“What the hell, Lyd?” He’s beside you, now, covered in a dusting of snow, big dark eyes staring intently into yours from behind his slightly fogged-up spectacles. “What are you doing out here?”

You are physically shaking with nerves and cold. “I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to explain, I told you where I would be, and…” you sniffle, glad of the snow as an excuse for your tears and red eyes, “And you didn’t even want to hear it. You didn’t even want to talk to me.” Your teeth chatter. “So…so I d-d-decided to g-g-go h-h-h-home.”

You wipe at your eyes with your gloved hands. “Stupid snow makes m-m-me cry,” you offer, by way of an explanation.

He doesn’t quite know why he does it. Maybe it’s his own need for reassurance, his instinctive urge to give you comfort, or maybe it’s the fact that, deep down, he’s missed you.

Ben steps closer to you and wraps his arms around you, pulling you to him for a hug.

“I’m so sorry, Lyd.” He holds you tightly for a moment before pulling away. “I was being a dick. I do want to talk.”

“I’m g-g-going home. Come with me if you want, and hear m-me out.”

“Okay. Fuck, it’s freezing.” He reaches into his coat pocket for his phone.

“No cabs. It’s not that far.”

He nods. You reach over, instinctively, doing up the top button on his coat and pulling the knitted hat a little more firmly over his ears.

He brings a gloved hand to meet yours, and for a moment you think he’s going to push you away. Instead, he gives your hand a little squeeze.

“Let’s go.”

“Okay, heating is on, thermostat’s up, kettle is boiling to make some coffee - um, I know this is going to sound weird, but are you hungry? I think I had a single tortilla chip to eat at Jen’s.”

Ben is standing at the door of your tiny kitchen, an old, baggy hoodie of yours over his shirt and cardigan as an extra layer of heat, arms crossed over his chest and hands rubbing his upper arms as he tries to warm up.

“I’m fucking s-s-starving.”

You have an urge to wrap your arms around him and get warm by sharing your body heat. But you haven’t even talked about it, yet.

“Okay, well…” You poke your head into the fridge and freezer in succession. “I’ve got a frozen pizza.”

“F-f-fucking perfect.”

It all feels a little too normal as you sit in the living area with your coffees, waiting for the pizza to cook. You’ve wrapped yourself in your crocheted blanket while you warm up, legs tucked under you on the couch and hands gripping your mug for warmth.

“I feel like I should be starting to explain,” you say, glancing down at your coffee.

Ben shakes his head. “Let’s eat, first, and then we can talk. Better not to do that hungry.”

There’s still a few minutes before the pizza will be done. You try to make the most of these moments of “normality”, before you have to try to explain your actions to him and hope that he feels the same as you.

“I did love your holiday makeover, by the way.”

He turns to look at you, a little smile creeping across his lips.

“You know I only got the polish off two days before I came back? Glitter is resilient.” He laughs to himself. “I think Jules liked doing it, though. How’s your gift-wrap injury?”

“Healed up. More worrying is the fact I don’t think I’ve located all of the stickers Cora put on my person over the break. I’m concerned one will turn up in some strange part of my body.”

Ben raises his eyebrows. “If I spot any unexpectedly I’ll be sure to signal it.”

“You had a good time at home, though?”

He nods. “It was great to be with them all. You?”

“Same. Good to be home.”

You are reminded of the tears you shed at the airport, homesick not for your family but for him.

“Thing is, I was glad to come back.” He looks up at you, eyes curious. “Because this feels like home, too.”

You eat the pizza companionably on the couch, washed down with cans of soda. Ben offers to stack the plates in the dishwasher. As he returns to the couch, you broach the subject.

“Can we talk?”

He nods and settles beside you. Your stomach does backflips at the prospect of having to finally say the words you’ve been mentally rehearsing since the day you left.

“I want to explain, and I want to - well, I want to try to make things right, because I did something wrong.” You look up at him, his dark eyes meeting yours, and it’s all you can do not to ditch the speech and try to show him what you feel in ways beyond words.

“I’m so, so sorry, Ben. I…”

And then he’s bridging the gap between your two bodies; gently caressing your face with his hands; tilting your head to meet his gaze. His eyes ask the question, and before you’ve finished nodding your assent his mouth is on yours and he’s kissing you like he’ll never get the chance again: hungry but tender, urgent but loving.

He brings his hands to wrap around your body, gently encouraging you to lie back on the couch and quickly pulling a cushion into position behind your head.

Your brain is shouting at you about how you need to do this properly, to talk first and then act, if you both want to.

Your body is responding rather differently. It couldn’t be any smoother if you’d rehearsed this: your legs opening wide to accommodate Ben’s gorgeous broadness, knees hitching around him as you try to pull him closer, hands tugging at the old hoodie, easing it off over his head, and fingers fumbling to undo the buttons on his flannel shirt.

He breaks away from the kiss, moving his mouth to the side of your neck and working his way down to your chest with a succession of kisses, gentle nibbles, and light sucking, interspersed with little moans and whispers of your name. You can feel his hands roving under your blouse, loosening your tank from the waistband of your jeans so he can feel your soft, warm flesh in his hands.

You gasp at the sensation. Your body is silently screaming for Ben, begging wordlessly for him to unzip your jeans and slip his hand between your soaking folds. Even so, your brain still wants to have a say.

“Ben…Ben… wait.” He pulls away but remains close to your body, looking up at you.

“You want me to stop, Lyd?”

You shake your head. “No, never, but… we were supposed to talk and -”

“We will.” He places a soft kiss to your exposed décolletage, and you moan.

You pull him towards you and kiss him firmly on the mouth, lifting your hips towards his and feeling the friction of him, already hard in his dark jeans.

“Fuck, Lyd…”

“Fuck it, we can talk later.” You encourage him to move off you and wriggle yourself off the couch, taking him by the hand. “C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

You’re lying on your bed, Ben’s solid, comforting weight on top of you, both of you working urgently, desperately, to undress each other. You’d eased him out of his flannel shirt as soon as you got into the bedroom, pausing for a moment to admire his beautiful body in the slim-fit grey T-shirt he was wearing underneath before peeling it off him as you fell onto the bed.

He’s murmuring into your ear and trailing his lips down the line of your neck as his fingers undo the buttons on your blouse. “Fucking missed you so fucking much, Lyd,” he mutters, sucking so perfectly at your neck that you feel like your entire body is arching off the mattress. He sits you up slightly so he can tug away the blouse and peel off your tank top, tossing it aside as he reaches around to unhook your bra.

His big hands grope your tits, fingers gently pinching your nipples before his tongue swirls over them, triggering a cry of pleasure from you.

“FUCK, Ben, I really missed you, too…need you, baby.”

He moves his hands down to undo your jeans, slipping his long fingers inside. You’ve already unbuttoned his jeans and you pull down the zipper before sitting up to tug them - and his boxer briefs - down. His cock springs free, already hard and weeping, and you grip it gently before giving it a few strokes.

Ben groans loudly as he looks down, wanting to see your fingers working his cock. He pulls off your jeans and panties and meets your gaze again as you open your legs wide.

“This okay?”

You nod frantically. “It’s fucking perfect.”

He smiles and reaches between your legs to drag two long fingers over your folds. The look on his face is one of surprise and arousal.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, Lyd. So wet for me already.” He looks down to watch his fingers working through your slick, occasionally dipping his fingertips into your cunt and making you cry out with need and desire. “What do you want, baby?”

He keeps fucking you with his fingers as he looks into your eyes. It seems that’s what triggers your first orgasm: his big eyes gazing at you, so warm and so kind, while his thick fingers are pushing in and out of your pussy, making lewd, wet noises.

“Oh, fuck!” You come on his fingers, a wicked little smile on his face. “You, Ben, I want you. Want you to fuck me hard. Need you.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and sucks them clean, closing his eyes as he feels your taste on his lips and tongue. The sight makes your pussy throb, but you need more.

“You ready for me, Lyddie?”

You nod and spread your legs as he quickly lines himself up, pushing inside you in a single, fluid motion that seems to knock the air clean out of your lungs. You reach up and take his head in your hands, pulling him down for a kiss as he starts to move. He drags his cock in and out, slowly, deliberately; dark eyes watching you writhe and mewl under his broad body.

“Please, Ben -”

He begins to fuck you harder, deeper, rarely taking his eyes off you. Despite the urgency it’s imbued with a tenderness and a desperate need that matches your own. Your body responds intuitively as you hitch up your knees and shift your hips slightly to meet his firm thrusts and take him even more deeply.

You fuck each other as though you’re trying to fuse yourselves irrevocably together, using your bodies to take the first step towards overcoming the rift and separation. The sensation of soft, warm skin, of fingertips trailing over a breast, a bicep, a thigh, begins to say the words you still don’t quite know how to articulate.

Your hips are moving quicker now, fucking him as much as he is fucking you, and Ben leans back a little to look down at where your bodies are joined. He looks up at you from under his lashes, half-smiling as he admires the way your body moves in perfect sync with his. You reach for his strong forearms, fingers gripping his firm, lightly golden flesh to give you greater purchase as your hips roll upwards, trying to sate your longing and your frustration. Ben lets out a deep, guttural cry.

“Fucking hell, Lyd!”

“Want to fuck you, baby,” you murmur, not letting up the rhythm. “Please. Want to get on top.”

He rolls carefully onto his back, holding you in position around your hips as you shift your knees and brace your core. The change in position has his cock hitting you at a different angle, grazing against that perfect, spongy spot just inside your cunt, and you take a moment to savour the feeling before beginning to ride him.

You move with intention, purpose, determination, trying to let your body speak for you before you use your words, later. The sight of his beautiful face, eyes screwed up in pleasure and mouth slightly open, sends a pulse thrumming through you and almost gets you off again. You want more. You want to give him more. You want to give him everything.

Your hands reach down your body, seeking his broad palms and thick, gentle fingers; you place one hand over your left breast and encourage him to use the other to start massaging the slick-soaked pearl of your clit.

You cry out his name as you come, rhythm faltering a little. Ben encourages you to lift yourself off his cock for a moment, pushing himself up to a sitting position against your headboard before you straddle him again, taking his hard length deep into your warm, wet cunt and making him groan loudly.

The two of you, again. You and him, him and you, clinging to each other in mutual desire and reassurance. Bodies pressed together, the heavy weight of your tits pushed against the broadness of his chest, the warm softness of his tummy grazing against yours. You kiss, his tongue swiping at your lips and exploring your mouth: two as one.

He breaks away as he fucks up into you, arms still wrapped around you. You close your eyes, keening with pleasure.

“Open your eyes, Lydia.”

You blink, meeting his coffee-brown gaze. He smiles and caresses your face, slowing down the pace as he does so. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Just slowing down a little or I won’t last, baby.”

You pepper his neck and shoulders with tiny kisses, seeking out the little freckles and marks you love. Each press of your lips to his skin is a silent apology, an unspoken explanation, an attempt to convey through touch what you feel for him, how much he means to you.

I am so sorry. I missed you so very much. I need you. I care about you. I hate that I hurt you. Please forgive me.

And I love you.

“I’m close, baby. Gonna lie you back down, is that okay?”

You nod, kissing Ben as he eases you onto the bed. He pulls out for a moment as you change positions, and you whine a little at the loss of his cock inside you.

“Hey, it’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, planting a soft kiss to your breast as he slides back inside you, “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

You twine your hands around his neck and reach to run your fingers through his dark curls, listening to the obscene sound of your wetness against him as he fucks you. You hitch up your legs and slip down a hand to grip his ass as he drives in and out of you.

“Fuck-fucking hell, baby - jesus, that feels so good. You feel so fucking perfect, so fucking wet. Taking me like this -”

He stutters as he buries his face in your neck, thrusting harder and faster as he gets closer. You wrap your arms around his broad back, finding arousal and reassurance in the warm softness of his body.

“I love having you inside me, y’know,” you whisper in his ear. “I love taking you, all of you, feeling the stretch in my cunt when you fuck me.”

Your dirty talk has the desired effect and you watch as his body stiffens and expression changes. He groans as he comes hard, continuing to fuck into you as you feel him fill you, hot and deep.

He doesn’t pull out immediately, pausing while he’s still on top of you to plant a lingering kiss to your lips. He takes in your fucked-out expression. His own is similarly wrecked, eyes hooded and pussydrunk, perspiration glistening on his face and body.

“Fuck, baby, that was…”

“Fucking incredible.”

You trace your hand over his jaw, gently feeling the scratchy hair underneath as you move your fingers to his lips.

“I missed you so fucking much, Ben. I’m so sorry.”

He takes your hand in his and kisses your fingertips, then pulls out and lies back beside you on the bed, still holding your hand.

“I missed you so, so much, Lyddie.” He looks up at the ceiling, suddenly puzzled. “How did we end up at this end of the bed?”

You giggle. “I didn’t keep track of the logistics but we covered a lot of ground tonight.” You kiss the firm skin of his shoulder and sit up. “I’m going to freshen up. Be back in a minute.”

When you return, Ben is under the comforter, lying back on the pillows at the head of the bed. You stop for a moment to take in the image. You had forgotten this was the first time he’d ever been over to your place, and he looks right at home.

He smiles warmly as you climb back into bed, shivering a little as you discard your robe. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close to his side, tucking the comforter around you to keep you warm. You nuzzle into his chest, humming contentedly to yourself.

“Lyd?” His voice is quiet and soft and it makes your heart sing to hear it like this, in bed, naked and sated and cuddled together.

“Mmmhmm?”

“You - you framed my card.”

You had framed his birthday card, and it had sat on your nightstand since November. And you forgot he would see it.

Shit.

You look up at him, a little panicked. The look on his face immediately reassures you, and you reach up to trace a finger along the grey patches on his jaw.

“I just really loved it, the card, the message. And it…it meant so much.”

He blushes a little. “That’s really…it’s great.”

He holds you a little closer.

“Ben?”

“Mmmm?”

“I’m going to explain.”

He brings his other arm around you and plants a kiss to the crown of your head. “Okay, Lyd. I’m here.”

You take a deep breath and lightly rest your hand on his chest, trying to ground yourself with the rhythm of his heartbeat and the feeling of his warm skin.

“I left the way I did because I was scared.” You tilt your head up to look at him. “Not scared of you, I’d never be scared of you. Scared of - well, scared of a lot of things. And I’m not even sure if I can explain them all properly, but I’ll do my best.”

You nuzzle a little more into the warmth of his side, cheek pressed lightly to his chest.

“I had such a wonderful time with you that night. It was amazing. You know that, right?”

Ben looks down at you. “I do.”

“But then I woke early, and it was like the little bully that lives in my brain decided it was going to do its worst. I panicked, Ben. All I could think was that you would realise it was a mistake, eventually, and see how I was old and unattractive and broken, and…” You pause for a moment, trying not to let the tears fall. “And that I didn’t deserve someone like you.”

“Oh, Lyddie. No, Lyd.” Ben squeezes you gently, planting another kiss to the crown of your head.

“I tried to talk myself down, I really did. But it’s one thing doing that in the light of day, it’s another altogether at five in the morning. So it was like the defences just went back up.”

“Defences?”

“Like… I dunno. Defences against feelings, or wanting someone properly? Shit. I’m not explaining this very well.”

He shakes his head. “You’re doing perfectly fine. If you want to stop, just say.”

Another deep breath. “It’s not the only reason. But…the way everything fell apart with my last relationship, it - it made me harden myself because…I don’t know, I convinced myself if I kept up defences around my heart and soul I wouldn’t get hurt again? Something like that. It was fine to have hookups or one night stands, but anything more serious - couldn’t happen.”

“So you pulled up the drawbridge.”

You nod. “And it wasn’t just about protecting me from getting hurt again, it was about protecting others from me fucking everything up, like I always do. Ruining things, like I always have. And then there’s the visiting thing.”

“You don’t fuck everything up, Lyd, you don’t ruin things, and it’s so sad that you think you do, because - well, have you ever considered how much you make things better?” You look up at him, eyes disbelieving but filled with emotion at his words.

“And what do you mean, visiting thing?”

“Me being a visiting professor, me having to go home to my permanent job… the way I was feeling that morning, all I could think was how this would have to end, and how - how I couldn’t handle the thoughts of not having this, because of the way I felt - the way I feel - about you.”

You trace patterns on his chest with your fingertips, trying to quell the anxiety that threatens to overwhelm you.

“I didn’t come here looking for anyone. I was happy with my life the way it was - I wasn’t wandering around lost and lonely, desperate for a partner. My life was great, really. And then I met you, and I realised what I felt for you. I was starting to open myself up again, and I’d never, ever thought I’d do that. I never thought I’d have those feelings again, let alone…fall for someone. And certainly not someone as wonderful as you.”

“Lyd, you…”

You shake your head, wanting to get the words out while they’re flowing freely. “Over the holidays I realised that’s what was really scaring me. That’s what was at the root of it all, all the fear and panic - the way I feel about you, the way I care so much about you. It was so big, you know? The realisation of what I felt, of how much I cared, the knowledge that you had feelings for me, too. Sleeping with you, knowing how good that was, feeling like I wanted to stay with you like that forever.”

You pause for a moment. “And then my stupid, stupid brain kicks in, because it’s wired to run from things that feel like they’re going to overwhelm me.”

He gives you another cuddle. “That is not a stupid brain and you know it.”

“It feels like it is. It’s ironic, I thought I had to run so I didn’t ruin things. But turns out I might have ruined them anyway.” You pull away a little, still keeping a hand on his chest but propping yourself up so you can see his face properly. “I hate that I hurt you. I hurt you. And I feel so terrible that my own issues - my past - made me feel like I needed to do something stupid and in the process to hurt the man I…care so much for.”

You shake your head ruefully. “I don’t want to be scared any more. I don’t need to be scared. And I don’t need the past to affect my life now, I won’t let it. I just hope that, regardless of what you want to happen with us, that you can -”

You’ve been really good with the tears so far. You’ve managed to keep them at bay. But they’re prickling, gathering in your eyes and clouding your vision of Ben’s kind face and broad shoulders, and they won’t stay put much longer. You tilt your head upwards, trying to stave them off.

“Forgive me.”

Ben reaches up to wipe away the fat tear that’s rolling down your cheek, his thumb stroking softly across your face. He sits up in bed and wraps his arms around you.

He doesn’t say it to you, but he was ready to forgive you as soon as he looked into your eyes at Jen’s house.

“Of course, Lyddie. Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt - still hurts a little - though, and that’s important too.”

You pull back slightly and take his left hand in yours, tracing your thumb over his tattoo.

“I know, Ben, and I’m so, so sorry.”

He takes a deep breath. “Thing is, you’re not the only one who was scared. Is scared. Love is scary, y’know?” He meets your gaze, his eyes and expression perhaps more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen them. “Especially when it’s new love. It’s exciting but it’s terrifying because… well, because it’s fragile, and it can be lost. And that feels even more of a risk when you - when you have lost love.”

“I mean it, I don’t want my past -”

He shakes his head. “I don’t mean your past, I mean mine. You’re not the only one who’s scared, and you’re not the only one who was fucked over.”

Oh, shit.

You nuzzle against his shoulder. “You can tell me, if you want.”

He rests his head against yours. “Shit. It’s…it’s a long time ago. But it fucks you up, doesn’t it?” You nod silently. “I met the person I thought I’d be with for the rest of my life during my doctoral programme. Six years, all fine, and then one day - that was it, out of the blue. The usual explanations: unhappy for a long time, we grew apart, all that kind of thing.”

“Sounds familiar,” you say wearily. You heard it all the day your ex left. It was like a script had been pre-circulated.

“You can guess what’s coming next, then.”

“Someone else?”

“There was someone else. Like I said, it’s a long time ago, Lyd. A lot longer than yours. It’s all in the distant past now, and therapy helped a lot early on.” He sighs. “But I guess I did something similar to you. Put up the defences, wasn’t looking for anyone, kept everything very casual, on the rare occasions it happened.”

You bring an arm around his torso, holding him close.

“And I was happy. I was really happy: I had wonderful friends, eventually I got a job I love, I have my family, my siblings, their kids. I was fine.” He pauses, jaw ticking. “I was fine, and then - then you came along.”

You pull back. His tone is confusing.

Ben turns to look at you, takes in your worried expression, and kisses the top of your head. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean ‘you came along and ruined things’, please don’t worry.” You visibly relax and squeeze his hand.

��What I mean is - you came along, and you changed things. You changed everything. You think you ruin things, Lyd, and that just couldn’t be further from the truth. I… fuck. You changed my life, changed the way I thought about the future, about what I wanted, about opening up again.”

Tears threaten at your eyes again. “So when you woke up and I wasn’t there…”

He looks up, and his eyes are red-rimmed. “I thought it was happening again. And it just felt like I shouldn’t have opened up and let you in.”

You swallow, trying to stop yourself from crying. “Fuck, Ben. I’m so fucking sorry, I’m just such a fucking broken mess.”

“Lyd, for fuck’s sake.” His tone is firmer, more stern. You look at him, a little surprised. “You’re not a broken mess. You - fuck it, you just weren’t loved the way you should have been. The way you deserve to be.”

“Jesus, Ben, I -” You pause, and he looks at you expectantly. “Well, that makes two of us. You weren’t loved like you deserve to be either, based on what you’ve said.”

He smiles softly, looking at you from under his lashes. “We’re quite a pair.”

You caress his face, reaching up to gently bring your fingers through his hair, and place a tiny, soft kiss to the beautiful curve of his nose.

“I think we are quite a pair, actually.”

You blink awake in the wee small hours, eyes adjusting in the darkness as you take in the handsome sight of Ben’s sleeping face. The last time you woke up with him, you panicked and fled. This time, you smile softly, noticing that his hand is resting lightly on your hip, and lean in to gently kiss his warm, broad chest.

His hand shifts and he smiles, eyes still closed, as he traces the curve of your body over your hip, your waist, and onto the heavy fullness of your breasts. He seeks out your nipples with his fingertips and you sigh with pleasure, reaching down to take his cock, already stiffening, in your hand. He kisses you, moaning as you stroke him a few times, and then carefully rolls you onto your back, positions himself on top of you, and uses his knee to open your legs a little wider for him.

“’M still wet, baby,” you murmur, voice thick with sleep. “Fuck me.”

He lines himself up to take you: slowly, gently, still drowsy. You feel every inch of him as he fucks you to a slow, steady rhythm. Between the drag of his cock working in and out, and the silence punctured only by the sounds of you and Ben panting, your bodies moving against each other, you’re close to the edge before long.

He gets you there with a well-timed thumb to your clit, gently circling it until you fall apart again and he lets go inside you, kissing your neck and mouth as he pulls out before helping you clean up, moving in for some cuddles, and falling asleep again with you in his arms.

It’s definitely not the kind of sex that cheesy novels are made of, but it makes you happy because of that. It’s soft, intimate, settled - domestic, even, like you’ve been together a long time. You still need to talk about what you both actually want, of course, but - if this is anything to go by - it feels like you might well be on the same page.

He’s not there when you reach for him in the morning. You sit bolt upright, suddenly paranoid that Ben might have done to you what you did to him.

But then your eyes adjust to the morning light filtering through the blinds, and you can hear clattering and humming coming from the direction of the kitchen. You reach for a pair of pyjama pants and an old sweatshirt, and pad from the bedroom into the living and dining room and through the door into the tiny kitchen.

Ben is standing at the main counter, his back to you, measuring out coffee for your filter machine while humming random melodies to himself. He’s wearing the big, old Paris Review hoodie you’d loaned him when he came home with you the evening before, as well as his boxers and a strangely familiar-looking pair of brightly-coloured socks, covered with a pattern of books and pens and -

Oh, fuck. Those socks. Your Christmas present to him. He’d worn them to Jen’s party.

You take a few short steps across the kitchen floor and wrap your arms around him, pressing your cheek to his shoulder blade and inhaling deeply.

“Hi, Lyddie.”

He turns and shifts his body so he can see you properly. He’s got his glasses on, his hair is tousled, curls sticking up in every direction, and he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“You look a lot better in that hoodie than I do.”

He looks down at the magazine logo on the sweatshirt. “Were you a subscriber?”

“It was a gift from a friend years and years ago. We had a running joke about the idea of a magazine reviewing Paris, she saw it and ordered it for me. It’s cosy, isn’t it?”

He beams and puts an arm around you, gently pulling you to his side as the coffee machine splutters into life. “Very cosy, baby.”

“It’s nice, here.” Ben looks around the apartment as he sips the coffee, sitting beside you at the small dining table. “It’s very…”

“Basic?”

He arches an eyebrow over the rim of his mug. “I was going to say it’s very you. You’ve made it your own, even if it is basic.”

You reach for his hand and squeeze it, marvelling at the butterflies you feel at the simple sensation of the touch of his hand, even after having slept with him twice.

“Ben?”

He looks at you, eyes soft and warm.

“I want this. Whatever this is, right now, I want it. I want to try it, anyway. I want you. I want you and me, I want there to be an ‘us’. I meant what I said last night, I’m not scared. Well, I am, because I still don’t know what happens when I have to leave and what if that ruins everything and then -”

He squeezes your hand in return. “Lyddie, you’re spiralling.”

You laugh and take a deep breath. “I guess what I’m asking is - if I wasn’t a broken weirdo who ran out on you, what would you want? What do you want?”

“Lyd, please. You’re not a weirdo, and you’re not fucking broken. You’re strong, and smart, and funny, and beautiful, and - fuck, you’re a fucking goddess, Lyd, and I’ll tell you that every goddamn day.” He looks at you, expression deadly serious before softening into a smile. “Surely you know I want this, too? You, me, an ‘us’? How could I not?”

You put your hands to his face and pull him in for a kiss. No more fear, even if this was scary, in its own way.

And you remember something he said last night.

“Ben, can I ask you about something you said last night?”

He smiles beatifically and nods.

“When I was explaining about being scared, you said something like ‘love is scary’. I… I’m just wondering about your word choice.” Your mouth feels dry and you take another sip of coffee. “Was ‘love’ generic, or…specific?”

Ben’s eyes widen for a moment, a tiny flash of panic passing through.

“It was specific.”

You nod. “So…”

He rubs his hands together, one of his nervous ‘tells’. “So, I said ‘love is scary’ because - I love you.” The look in his eyes is cautious but warm, hopeful.

“I love you, Lydia. I love you very much. I hope that’s okay.”

You gently place your hand on top of his, quelling his anxious gesture.

“I love you too, Ben. Very much. So, yeah, that’s okay.”

The two of you burst out laughing for a moment before leaning in for a soft kiss. It felt so normal, so comfortable: both of you still with your bed-heads, dressed in random loungewear, sitting at your dining table in your little apartment, saying you loved each other for the first time.

Ben twines his fingers through yours, smiling. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to be able to say those words to you, Lyd.” He blushes a little. “Came close to saying it a few times before.”

You arch an eyebrow exaggeratedly and grin at him. “Oh, really? Well, that makes two of us.”

You lean over to rest your head on his shoulder. “And you know we said last night that neither of us had been loved the way we deserved?” He hums and nods in agreement, planting a kiss to the top of your head.

“Maybe we can try loving each other like that?”

“I’d like that very much, Lyd.” Another kiss, another squeeze of your hand - and, out of nowhere, his tummy rumbles audibly, triggering another fit of giggles.

“Think you and me deserve to have a nice breakfast, too.” He pushes himself back from the table and stands up, still holding your hand. He holds you closely. “And then…”

“And then - we come home and make up for lost time.”

(bookshelf divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more; other dividers by @cafekitsune)

Further A/N: Like many of us, I'm sure, I have spent much of the last week listening back to the work of the extraordinary, late, great Sinéad O'Connor. This song, from her 2014 album I'm Not Bossy, I'm The Boss, leapt out as a perfect fit for Lydia - in general, but especially in this chapter. Rest in power, Sinéad. (And if you haven't yet read her memoir, Rememberings, do it - it's brilliant.)

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#visiting fic #visiting masterlist #mr ben snl #mr ben au #mr ben x ofc #mr ben fanfic #professor ben x ofc #professor!ben #professor!ben x ofc #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #pedrostories #Youtube

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wickershells · 6 months ago

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Something very interesting to me when watching the walking dead is its by-large refusal to meaningfully engage with sexual abuse as a topic… I’ve never read the comics, don’t really plan to, but from what I’ve heard there were several instances of rape depicted there, but very little to go on in the show — Carol reveals when praying that her husband sexually abused (or at least wanted to abuse) their young daughter (presumably + contextually her as well), something that to my memory is never referenced again; the Governor forces Maggie to strip herself half-naked and bend over, but “doesn’t actually do anything” (forceful stripping is, indeed, a form of sexual abuse) compared to his apparently brutal (?) rape of Michonne in the comics; Lydia is repeatedly raped by members of the Whisperers in the comics, encouraged by her mother, an aspect removed entirely from the show; Negan, of course, comes closest — his ‘wives’ are quite literally coerced into sexual relationships with him — and yet the show seems reluctant to address even him as an abuser.

Negan’s redemption is written only for him as a killer, a tyrant, and not as a rapist — it would have to address very difficult questions about power, patriarchy, the prominence of violence against women both historically and whenever worlds fall apart, and the ways in which any of these can be tackled meaningfully, what a society that actively prevents rape might look like. We know statistically that punitive justice does incredibly little to actually prevent it, and yet this is exactly what happens to Negan, and in the show his language when exacting power is, as always, very sexual — sexual language to humiliate, to express dominance, success, influence over a victim. One of my favourite lines of his is often seen as comedic: “I just slid my dick down your throat, and you thanked me for it”. Highlights just how Negan thinks of violence, and why his rules supposedly against rape are so sanctimonious, so two-faced.

It matters that his weapon of choice is phallic, that he named it after his wife, that he personifies it to such an extent he feels like he has lost some part of himself when it is gone; like a castration, like he’s a eunuch, only a half-man, nothing left for him to swing or thrust or penetrate with. But then none of this is addressed in any substantial way, and all we get are people telling us that he has changed, because now he doesn’t murder anyone (in this specific team), and he is gentler and kinder and starved himself in his suicidality, and doesn’t he have a soft spot for children? None of this is relevant to patterns of rapist thinking and behaviour, to rehabilitative methods. But it isn’t a topic worth exploring, and if it was, it is probably too dark for this show where there is no shortage of rotting bodies tearing apart the living, and skulls being cracked open while loved ones scream and cry and wail, and violence and its repercussions are at the heart of every action — so long as that violence has nothing to do with the existence, and subsequent examination, of misogyny

#last line kinda doesn’t work for Carol’s domestic abuse at the hands of Ed #which I will give them credit for in that it has shaped who she is as a character and is regularly referenced explicitly or implicitly #there was also that story maggie gave — about the women held as sex slaves whose limbs and eyes and tongues were cut out #but the context in which this story is told (to explain maggie’s supposed coldness since we last saw her) doesn’t make it work the way it #should. it was a horrifying & virulently misogynistic act being witnessed by a woman. there should be something else here #something that lingers a lot longer than it does #so sorry for how long this got + probably poorly worded + if I forgot anything else. rambling at 3am #the walking dead #twd #tw rape #tw csa #mine

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queenofmistresses · 2 years ago

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The Third Musketeer

Chapter 6

A/N sorry this has taken me so long, I’m going to try and get another chapter out before the end of the month because teen wolf is being removed from netflix and I don’t know how long it could take me to get access to the show again. Sorry guys this is entirely out of my control

Stiles is upset with Scott. I can’t say I blame him, I’m upset too. Neither of us are talking to him.

Or at least I thought we weren’t. After our first class they seemed to be okay again. Well I’m still mad. Stiles spots me while they’re talking and comes over to me, leaving Scott. “Did you know he went to Derek for help?” He asks.

“What?! No! Jesus.” I sigh. He nods in agreement.

“Look I know you don’t think he’s all that bad because… you know, but do you think it’s a good idea?” He asks.

“Probably not. Derek’s… different to how he used to be. I mean who wouldn’t be after that but, he seems less kind. It’s, a little intimidating to be honest.” Stiles nods, thinking.

“I’ve decided I need to teach Scott how to control it myself, could you help?” I chuckle.

“Of course I’ll help. But right now, I need to go eat with Lydia and Allison. You want to come with?” He shakes his head, still in thought. I smile, he’s cute like this. “See you later then.” I reach up on the tips of my toes and kiss his cheek quickly, before running towards the cafeteria.

“The what of who?” Lydia asks Allison while I sit down with them.

“The beast of Gevaudan.” Allison says, though I’m not sure what’s happening. “Listen. A quadruped wolf-like monster prowling the Auvergne and South Dordogne areas of France during the year 1764 to 1767. La bete killed over 100 people, becoming so infamous that King Louis XV sent one of his best hunters to try and kill it.”

“Boring.” Lydia interrupts, making me laugh.

“Even the church eventually declared the monster a messenger of Satan.”

“Hmmm, still boring.”

“Cryptozoologists believe it may have been a subspecies of a hoofed predator, possibly a mesonychid.”

“Slipping into a coma bored.”

“While others believe it was a powerful sorcerer who could shapeshift into a man-eating monster.”

“Any of this have anything to do with your family?”

“This,” Allison continues, “It is believed that La Bete was finally trapped and killed by a renown hunter, who claimed his wife and 4 children, were the first to fall prey to the creature. His name was Argent.”

Shit. That was a werewolf wasn’t it? Is her family telling her about this? Does this mean they’re going to involve her soon?

In all my overthinking I miss part of the conversation so I’m not quite sure why Lydia walks off, but she seem to be doing better.

Allison reads her book some more while I eat, I see Stiles and Scott on the table over talking about something. It’s not long before I see Stiles get up, seemingly a little mad at Scott. So I quickly say goodbye to Allison before running after Stiles. Butttt Allison follows me, trying to chase down Scott while I follow Stiles.

The three of us head out to the lacrosse field during our free period. “Okay.” Stiles starts, setting his bag down and sitting on the bench, I sit next to him. “Now, put this on.” He says, handing Scott a heart monitor band.

“Isn’t this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?” He asks.

“Yeah, I borrowed it.” I chuckle a little, it’s not technically borrowing it if you didn’t ask.

“Stole it.” Scott responds.

“Temporarily misappropriated.” Stiles says, seemingly already tired of Scott.

“Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs, and you’re gonna wear it for the rest of the day.”

“Isn’t that coach’s phone?” Scott asks.

“That I stole.” I actually laugh at that. “Your heart rate goes up when you go wolf right? When you’re playing lacrosse, when you’re with Allison, whenever you get angry. Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heart rate.” I love it when he talks smart like this.

“Like the incredible hulk!” And then there’s Scott, I roll my eyes.

“Kind of like the incredible hulk yes.”

“No I’m like the incredible hulk.”

“Just shut up and put the strap on.”

I love Stiles’ plan. Stiles is going to try and get Scott mad and Scott has to not react. Stiles starts by duct taping Scott’s wrists together, then gets his bag and lacrosse stick and steps away. I stay on the bench and watch.

Then, Stiles picks up a ball with the stick and throws it at Scott, making him curl over a little. He repeats this a few times, hitting Scott almost every time. “You know what? I think my aim is actually improving.” He looks over at me and winks jokingly.

“Yeah I wonder why!” Scott says, clearly get angry, but Stiles quickly continues hid assault. I can’t help but grin as I watch.

Suddenly though Scott starts groaning and kneeling down, and the monitor starts beeping rapidly. “Shit.” I say, running over. Scott pulls apart the duct tape in his frustration and I stay slightly away. The heart rate monitors beeping slows down as does Scott’s heavy breathing. Stiles starts to get in closer and talks to him gently.

“Scott? You started to change.” I come in closer and kneel on the ground next to him.

“From anger.” Scott starts. “But it was more than that.” He looks at both of us. “The angrier I got, the stronger I felt.”

“So it is anger then, Derek was right.”

“I can’t be around Allison.”

“Just because she makes you happy?” Stiles asks.

“No, because she makes me weak.”

I sigh, he’s made a decision, there’s nothing I can do to change that. But, I can see that that’s pretty crappy. “Okay.” I whisper, making them look at me. “Jesus, Scott. Come here.” Scott seems hesitant but inches closer to me.

I run my fingers through his hair, which I know helps him relax. He quickly does relax and lies his head on my lap, closing his eyes. He needs peace for a little bit. Poor guy’s had a tough start to this year.

I look up at Stiles and he seems shocked to say the least. I shrug a little and smile, looking down at Scott. I think it’s safe to say he’s fallen asleep. “I didn’t realise you guys…” Stiles starts but trails off. I shrug again.

“He hasn’t needed me for a while. But he’s been quite stressed.” I chuckle slightly. Stiles still looks confused. “When we were younger, whenever he got upset by anything he used to come to me. We were close, in a way. Guess I got used to being depended on. Then, high school happened and he stopped wanting me near him. Guess it’s the puberty.”

“That’s so wrong.” Stiles mutters. I look at him, the confused one now. He sighs and takes one of my hands, and looks down at Scott to see if he’s still sleeping. “Have you ever been able to depend on him?” He asks. I look away and shrug again. Stiles has always had an opinion about how Scott treats me. “So, what? He gets to depend on you whenever he needs it, but you have to hide in your room alone when you need help?”

“Stiles.” I squeeze his hand. “It’s just the way things are.”

“He’s your big brother! He’s supposed to protect you! Instead, he’s the one causing you to be upset half the time.” I bring my hand up to his cheek.

“You’re so sweet. And I love how protective you are, but I’m okay, this is just how he deals with things. He’ll grow up one day.” I give him a look that I hope tells him that I want to leave this discussion here. He nods and leans his head against my shoulder, grabbing my hand again and holding tight.

Next we have coach’s class. Stiles tries to sit behind Scott so Allison can’t but she makes it there first. Scott seems annoyed but I’m pretty happy because it means Stiles is sitting behind me.

I feel sorry for Allison immediately. Scott tried to avoid her but she clearly wants to talk to him. Luckily coach starts before it gets too painful to watch. Coach asks to start by going through last nights reading. Unfortunately, coach calls on Scott, and I’m almost 100% sure that he hasn’t done it.

Coach quickly starts teasing him as it’s obvious Scott hasn’t done it. It doesn’t take long for Scott’s heartbeat to increase. I sit as close to Stiles’ desk as possible and he leans forward over my shoulder and shows me the phone. It’s quickly increases as Coach’s attack on Scott gets more and more humiliating.

All I want to do is help him, but I think that would just make it worse. Suddenly, just as Coach threatens Scott with suicide runs, his heart beat slows down. Fast. Me and Stiles look at each other confused before we look over at Scott to try and figure out what’s happening.

Then we see it. Allison and Scott holding hands. It makes me smile a little. “He’s such an idiot.” I whisper to Stiles, chuckling.

“So are we.” Stiles responds, and I look at him to see him smiling sadly at the sight. I quickly kiss his cheek before telling him to sit back, which he does.

As soon as we walk out of class me and Stiles are ready to make sure Scott understands what just happened. “It’s her.” Stiles starts. “It’s Allison. Remember what you told me the night of the full moon? You were thinking about her, right? About protecting her. Remember the night of the lacrosse game? You said you could hear her voice out on the field.”

“Yeah I did!” Scott responds.

“Right so that’s what brought you back so you could score. And then after the game in the locker room, you didn’t kill her. At least not how you were trying to kill us. She brings you back is what I’m saying.”

“No no no! It’s not always true. Because literally every time I’m kissing her or touching her-“

“No, that’s not the same. Because when you’re doing that you’re another hormonal teenager thinking about sex, you know?” Scott starts smiling, and Stiles looks disappointed. “You’re thinking about sex right now aren’t you?” Scott glances at me and nods apologising. I wave it off, not important right now. “Look, back in the classroom, when she was holding your hand, that was different okay? I don’t think she makes you weak, I think actually gives you control. She’s kind of like an anchor.”

“Because I love her.” Scott responds, way too casually.

“Exactly, that’s what it’s like when you love somebody.” Stiles doesn’t seem to care that he said it either. Me? I’m excited.

“Wait Scott did you just say…?”

“Did I just say that?”

“Yes, you just said that.” Stiles responds, seeming bored. Scott chuckles.

“I love her.”

“That’s great! Now moving on-“

“No no no, really, I think I’m totally in love with her.”

“And that’s beautiful, but before you run off and write a sonnet can we figure this out please?” I can’t stop myself from grinning. “Because you obviously can’t be around her all the time.”

“Yeah, sorry. So what do I do?”

“I don’t know, yet.” Stiles sighs and then turns to me. “You got any ideas or are you just gonna keep grinning like that.”

“I don’t think I can stop now, I’m stuck like this.” I say giggling, making Stiles roll his eyes playfully. Then he suddenly puts his idea face on. “Oh no you’re getting an idea aren’t you?”

“Yeah!” He responds

“Is this idea going to get me in trouble?” Scott asks.

“Maybe.”

“Is this idea going to cause me physical pain?”

“Yeah definitely, come on.” Stiles says and leads us out of the school building.

He takes us to the car park and stops us near a random car. “What are we doing?” Scott asks and Stiles tells him to stay still, tells me to stand back, and makes Scott stand with his car key pointed up.

“Now, whatever happens, try to think about Allison, okay?” Stiles says before walking over to the car, scratching the paint job with his keys, and then he runs over next to me and starts shouting out. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing to that truck bro?” In Scott’s direction.

This gets the attention of who I assume is the owner of the car. The car owner and his friends walk over to Scott and swing a punch at him, Scott tries to fight back but he quickly gets over powered and they start beating him up.

I hear Stiles wince and I quickly look away from the fight, watching the heart monitor rise.

Eventually a teacher comes over and breaks up the fight, giving Scott a relief. But by the time he’s come, Scott’s heart rate has already gone down. Thank god.

Later, Scott calls me and Stiles to tell us that we need to get to the school. He explains that he got to work and found Derek having tied his boss up and interrogating him about the alpha. We meet Derek and Scott’s boss (though he’s unconscious in Derek’s car) at the school.

Scott tells us that he’s somehow going to see if he really is linked with the alpha, I’m not entirely sure of the plan, I don’t think it’s smart, but I don’t think I should say that in front of Derek.

We walk into the school to the reception. Stiles starts asking more questions about Scott’s plan (specifically the flaws in it) and Scott doesn’t seem to have anything beyond what we’re about to do.

We give him the microphone that will allow him to speak into the speakers around the school. A howl is meant to signal a wolfs position to the rest of the pack, we’ve just got to hope that this doesn’t make him a part of the pack.

When Scott tries to howl, he let’s out a shrill, pathetic noise that makes me cringe, Stiles looks disappointed. Scott starts getting frustrated and unsure of himself so Stiles walks around to him, starts rubbing his shoulders and tries to encourage him.

This time when Scott tries, he lets out a loud, deep howl that has the whole school shaking. I have to admit I’m impressed.

When we walk back out to the cars and Derek, he does not seem happy. “I’m gonna kill both of you.” He says pointing at Stiles and Scott. Always lovely to be ignored. “What are you trying to do attract the entire state to the school?”

“Sorry, I didn’t know it would be that loud.” Scott replies somehow both sheepishly and cocky all at once.

“Yeah! It was loud.” Stiles starts, clearly proud. “And it was awesome!”

“Shut up.” Derek says to him. I want to say something but honestly? Derek intimidated me.

“Don’t be such a sour wolf!” Stiles replies, clearly not bothered.

“What’d you do with him?” Scott questions, indicating to the car.

“What?” Derek turns to look in the car and we realise that Scott’s boss is no longer there. “I didn’t do anything!”

Suddenly, Derek jolts forward and a thick dark liquid (presumably blood) starts coming out of his mouth. He gets lifted into the air and we see the alpha. Oh my god. Stiles and Scott start flailing around in fear, but I freeze.

I feel them leave my side, running off but I can’t stop staring at Derek. I feel someone tugging on my shoulders and I’m brought back to reality. Stiles. “Y/n come on! We need to go!” He keeps pulling on my shoulders and I turn around. He grabs my hand at starts running.

We run straight into school, shutting the door and holding it shut, leaning down and hoping the alpha can’t see us through the windows.

What do we do now?

#teen wolf rewrite #teen wolf fic #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles fanfiction #stiles stilinksi x reader

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overnightheartbeats · 1 year ago

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He couldn't help the laugh that bubbled in his chest when she mimicked a cat paw. It had to be the only time he was happy when being called a scaredy cat. She was absolutely adorable, it was unfair how quickly he'd fall to his knees for her. Of course, these were all things she didn't know yet. Aaron had not dared tell her yet, maybe the scaredy cat description was accurate. "Your version is alright," he said with a shrug. Again, Lydia was right, but Aaron wasn't looking to give in tonight. This was a healthy debate, one that amused him greatly. "Okay, well I guess when you put it that way, it makes sense. I think my view would change a bit if I worked here, lucky for me, I don't see dead people very often." There was nothing in his life to distort his view, except maybe having Lydia around now. Maybe, he was giving in a bit, but honesty was a big part of these conversations. Wasn't it? "Fair point, or maybe those dead people are just assholes who want to make you work hard for the answers." Whatever happened to not speaking ill of the dead? Clearly, Aaron had forgotten that part.

Still, his ears perked up when she asked him what he believed. That's what made him so happy, how they disagreed and yet, they were always so intrigued with each other's answers and beliefs. Though, somehow, he now felt like he was put on the spot, representing these beliefs almost. A lot of pressure on one guy. "It's pretty simple, I think. Well, it's a mix of things..we believe in the typical heaven, hell." Which, if he went by his catholic standards - he was majorly screwed. However, Aaron was not a devout catholic, mostly believing because his parents do. Isn't that the way things go? "So, of course, we wish they're all up there," he explained, pointing upwards. "But, our culture, we also believe that once we put them to rest, they're allowed to come back to us once a year. Day of the dead, and all that. We make them an altar of sorts, decorate it, add their pictures, and their favorite foods and such. And they visit us, not in the...catching up sense. It's just a way to honor our loved ones, remember them. Maybe it's more for us, than them. I was skeptical some time ago, but it's hard to not believe when your parents hold on to those beliefs so tightly. That, and these customs are so old..feels weird to question them too much." His explanation was beginning to get a little long, he looked over at her once more with a smile, one that said - it's a lot huh? "But, my mom does say that when we don't, you know, get a chance, to put them to rest and such...that's how we get these restless ghosts. That, I hope is not true because I'd hate to see one."

Aaron raised a brow at her reaction, followed by her question. Was she really questioning that, or was she messing with him? He thought the latter, but can never be too sure. "Maggie is definitely not my type. I don't know, she has this look and I can't quite place it. Like she's trouble, and not the good kind." Who would've thought he'd become a bit more observant now? Might be the divorce lenses, if that was even a thing. What else was there to say about her? Unless, Lydia meant something else. "Do you mean my type like..physically? Because the answer's still no, just for the record. Nothing was wrong with Maggie, per say. Just not for him. "But you, on the other hand..well, you're my type for sure." Not entirely accurate. Aaron didn't really have a type to begin with, that question always confused him a bit. "My type, I'd say a woman about 5'4, give or take. Shoulder-length, brown hair. Usually in a ponytail. And she'd have these beautiful brown eyes, though sometimes I swear the light plays me and they look just slightly hazel. Or maybe, I'm blind. I don't imagine you've seen her around?" Of course, Lydia would want to know exact details, down to the amount he'd bet with. His lips formed into a smirk, "why do you ask? You think I'd bet against you? No, I'd never dream of betting against you Lydia." The mention of work had him wondering if that's how it would be for them. It wasn't the worst arrangement, if he was honest. Aaron figured that someone who valued work the way she did would understand when he went away for weeks or months at a time, or when he got pulled into work early in the morning or late at night. Yeah, she'd understand that. It seemed like a stress point for them individually, thinking back to his ex-wife's complaints, but maybe it'd work in some weird way for him and Lydia. "Glad to know there's some job security here, your kindness is duly noted," he teased, his index finger pointing to his temple.

A wide smile broke out on his lips with her request. For her? There were many things he'd do for her, even now..so early in their time together. "Y por qué no los dos?" He found it so amusing, how his Spanish was something she wanted to hear again. "No sabía que te gustaba el español." I didn't know you liked Spanish. Now, he was just teasing. "Didn't know you were charmed by the language, remind me to speak it more often." English had become his primary language so long ago, that his native language had been reduced to something listed on his resume and a language strictly used at home. A brow quickly raised at her explanation, right. She did that, how'd he forget it? Aaron was never one to be careful about his words, thinking what to say ahead of time or which word went best in the sentence. But, this sounded like something that'd get him in trouble one day. "English is not my first language?" He offered, attempting to joke with her. "Fair enough, I could've said that. Let me rephrase, you are one of the few. Look at you, doing more for me than my countless years in school." It was impossible to wipe the smile from his face, especially when she linked her arm with his and complimented him. "Stop, you'll make me blush." His gaze would constantly move back to her, captivated by her and how she was talking about work. It might not make sense, but she looked so cute - passionately describing what was happening. Impossible to not smile. "Seriously? That's horrible, why wouldn't he consider alternatives? Isn't that better?" Or was it the whole..having an open and shut case? Aaron wasn't too well-versed in her field, but he'd been in enough legal drama sets to recognize some things. Whether they were true was another thing. "I'm sure you'll prove him wrong though. Then he'll look like an idiot. What's your plan so far?" It'd be rude not to, so he waved a goodbye to Maggie on the way out and opened the door for Lydia. "My day, definitely not as exciting as yours. I may have a new gig soon, I received the script and it looks fairly easy. Nothing too crazy." Like the time he broke his arm right before they wrapped filming the stunts. It was all fun and part of the job, but he'd hate to injure himself and be out of the game for some time. It'd be difficult to see her that way.

Finding a spot that was open this late was not too difficult, when you ditched the reservations and the fancier service. A random pizza place with a menu you could barely read, it was perfect. "A little different than what we planned, but hopefully the pizza is to your standards."

"Okay, scaredy cat," Lydia teased, emphasising on the phrase for added effect. And simply because she knew his reaction would entertain her to no end. She very much enjoyed pushing his buttons, or at the very least, trying to. Aaron made it so easy. She even lifted her hand up, bending her fingers slightly to mimic a paw, or claws. To rub it in that little more, she even mouthed 'meow' at him, nibbling her lower lip to conceal her laughter. At the ridiculousness of the conversation. "I like my version better." And it was the correct one, even if he refused to give in to her. She liked that about him - she couldn't scare him into submission. Not that she waltzed around doing that... it was one of those things she couldn't help. Maybe she had a case of resting bitch face. "Of course, I don't... look at where I work-" she pointed out casually, gesturing around them. Lydia liked they didn't agree on absolutely everything- it provided opportunities to bounce around debates. Plus it meant things between them never got boring. And above all, they still respected each other despite their difference of opinion. She enjoyed hearing what he had to say, even if she did poke fun at him a lot. "Unless I experience something to make me change my mind then I'll stick with a no. I mean... I work with dead people all the time. A lot of the time they die in a brutal way. You'd think if there was life after death or whatever that they'd try and find a way to tell me. Would make my job a lot simpler, that's for sure," she said with a quiet laugh. In a peculiar way, she found it quite...sweet. That he believed in it. Out of curiosity, she asked, "Enlighten me: what do you think happens then? What do you believe?"

His reaction to the Lydia/Aaron/Maggie sandwich cracked her up. Lydia even had to cover her mouth with her hand to stop herself from bursting into a fit of laughter right then and there. So, Maggie wasn't his type? "Maggie's not your type but I am then?" she teased, unable to resist because even though it should have already been obvious considering they were heading out together. How could she resist? He mentioned Maggie but not her which implied that. And again, it was already obvious - but it was a bit of fun and teasing and Lydia loved to seize every opportunity, just to see his face. "What exactly is your type?" She figured it was a fair question... and she lowkey wanted to know, no point in beating around the bush. "Who would you put your bet on, Aaron?" she asked with feigned sweetness and a look that said 'choose your answer wisely.' She already knew what the answer would be but Lydia being Lydia, always asked the important questions. Even if she already knew. "Oh, but think of the redundancy payout!" Did that mean he was quite happy to continue to come and remind her when she was running late for yet another one of their plans because of work getting in the way? A patient man - a rare species. Very few and far between, borderline extinct. Lydia knew she would have to try harder to remember to tear herself away from work. Because surely sooner or later he would tire of that - in fact, she was surprised he hadn't already been pissed off with her because today wasn't the first time either. She needed to meet him halfway eventually though she wouldn't admit that out loud. "I could never. Consider your job safe and secure, on a tight leash. See? I can be nice sometimes."

About to ask him what that meant, Lydia let out an, "Ah," when he repeated it in English. "That sounded nicer the first time. Say it again? For me?" Everything sounded better in a language that wasn't English, to be fair. Or maybe she just liked the sound of whatever came out of his mouth. Not that she'd explicitly statet that though. "Nice save. Cute. However, you simply used the word 'could' which implies that whilst yes, I could be one of those people, it doesn't mean I am one of those people. Or else you would've told me that already," she pointed out like it was completely normal to pick apart sentences the way she did. It was a terrible habit, amongst her many other bad habits, one that tended to get on other people's nerves from time to time. It was natural for her, she couldn't stop herself. Lydia gave him another smile when he opened the door for her, mentally noting how gentlemanly the simple act was. One she appreciated, nonetheless. "Thank youuu," she said in a singsong voice, waiting for him to come out and close the door. Linking her arm with his, she set off down the corridor. "You mean you're not already dressed up? You could've fooled me..." Lydia grinned at him, honestly thinking he looked lovely the way he was. "Thank you for clarifying. I did wonder." Surprise momentarily flickered across her features. Sure, Aaron did say she could never bore him...But he was actually taking interest in her work? Why that felt so foreign to her, she couldn't quite articulate even to herself. Yet still, she felt a flash of warmth course through her. "Ugh, just this one case in particular. I feel like we're so close. There is just something that doesn't sit right. I feel it in my gut but I have no proof. The detective on the case is a bit of a dick who won't consider alternatives... so I am doing my best to prove him wrong before the idiot sends his team out to someone who may potentially be innocent. If they find them, that is." She explained, rolling her eyes at the thought. "Tell me about your day?"

#cursivebloodlines #ahhhhh I love them !!!#<33 #also let's not talk about how long this has been in my drafts #i really took our other thread for them and ran with it hahah

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usermischief · 2 years ago

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♞Pairing: Steo ♞Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken, Kira Yukimura ♞Tags: canon divergence, post 5b ♞Words: 2715 ♞Bad Things Happen Bingo - Silent Treatment (for @jimmy12427)

a/n - I know it took forever, but I was in the worst writing slump ever. But I'm getting back... ever so slowly.

---

Theo stares at him, arms folded and lips pressed into a thin line. His patience is wearing thin, that much is more than obvious — but that doesn’t mean he’d ever give up. It’s still surprising Theo hasn’t gone off on him yet, but that’s probably because he is trying to act like he really does care about Stiles even though they both know all he did was use him.

And Stiles fell for it.

Like an idiot.

“Stiles,” Theo says, reaching for his hand resting on the table, “please, let me explain.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Stiles leans back in his chair. There really isn’t anything to explain. Theo lied to them. He lied to him. He fucked with his head and heart for over a month; does he really expect Stiles is just going to sit here, listen to his fucking excuses, and everything is going to be fine again? Because if that’s the case, Theo couldn’t be any more wrong… hopefully. Because even though part of him knows Theo is telling him the truth, Stiles is scared he might be wrong.

And he can’t go through this pain again.

Stiles presses his lip together and stares past Theo. The other boy has been trying to convince him for a couple of months now. He’s going to give up eventually. All Stiles has to do is endure — and beg that Kira is going to arrive soon. He needs to leave before he allows himself to talk to Theo and give him a chance to lull him back into yet another false sense of security. His head is on board with him, but his heart is a piece of shit.

“Babe, please.” Theo places his hands on the table, palms up, almost as if he’s hoping Stiles will reach for him.

He doesn’t. He won’t. No matter how much his fingers itch to touch him. He purses his lips instead and narrows his eyes at a group of girls who are very clearly talking about them. Good thing he can’t hear them. The last thing he needs is an unsolicited commentary on his love life. He’s got Lydia for that, and she is really walking on thin ice.

Theo draws his brows together. “Stiles,” he whispers, scooting closer to the edge of his chair, “have I ever told you that you are the best thing that ever happened to me?” Flattery, that’s what he’s going with knowing very well it does not work on him?

One of the girls makes a sound, and Theo’s expression hardens as he’s staring her down for a few seconds. She’s just managed to climb his shitlist faster than Tracy ever could. But he takes a deep breath and returns his attention to Stiles. His expression once again softens. “I mean it, babe.”

Stiles would like to point out that Theo lost all of his ‘babe’ privileges, but that would mean he’s talking to him again, and that would defeat the whole purpose of this silent treatment.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Theo continues in a soft voice, “and you’re all I can think about. You’re everything I ever wanted.” He taps a finger against the table, biting his bottom lip. For what it’s worth, his expression seems to be genuine. But Theo has proven to be a master manipulator as well as a pretty good actor.

Stiles is not falling for his shit again.

The door to the coffee shop opens. Kira is finally walking in but stops when she spots Theo sitting with him.

Stiles couldn’t get to his feet quick enough. Without looking at Theo, he grabs his coffee and rushes toward the other fox. “Please, let’s just go,” he mutters because he really, really does not want to be any longer in the same room as Theo as he has to.

Kira grimaces a little. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Stiles nods for emphasis, “please.” They wanted to relax a little before she’d help Stiles figure out how to get in touch with his fox while he’s not being extremely angry.

Smiling softly, Kira steps out of the doorway and points in the direction of her car. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replies even though he knows those two words are going to raise all sorts of red flags for his friends. They’re not wrong either. Stiles isn’t fine. He’s hurt and heartbroken, and he hates Theo for lying as much as he loves him for everything else. The short while they dated — are they still dating? They never officially ended things — it was great. Stiles has never felt as loved as he did when he was around Theo. Now? Now, it just fucking hurts even thinking about it. “And I’m gonna be peachy once I bring as much distance between Theo and me as possible.”

Kira sighs but doesn’t say anything even though Stiles can tell she really wants to. He appreciates her silence for as long as it lasts because he knows this topic isn’t done. They’re going to talk about it multiple times today.

- - -

Stiles stares at the beautiful red rose sitting on the table in front of him. It has been a beautiful red rose for longer than it was supposed to be. “It’s mocking me.”

Kira sits down next to him, nudging his shoulder with her own. “Or maybe you’re just not in the right mindset.”

Groaning, Stiles lies down. “I don’t wanna hear it,” he mutters, knowing very well that he is about to hear everything about it because Kira has become much bolder after returning from the skinwalkers — and Lydia’s influence doesn’t help either.

“You know,” Kira says, tapping a finger against her ankle, “he can’t stop talking about you?” The question is why is everyone chatting with Theo after learning he worked with the Dread Doctors? Did they all forget he is the enemy?

Is Stiles the only one who’s feeling betrayed? Considering that he’s the only one who’s had his heart ripped out, that’s entirely possible. “He doesn’t love me.” Stiles throws his arm over his eyes, feeling like a petulant child. But it’s the truth. How could Theo love him if he kept something this huge a secret? Unless he was just scared of how Stiles might react to the truth. Well, he surely would have not been this pissed. It’s the lie that makes Stiles feel as if Theo never told him the fucking truth about anything. Now, everything Theo has ever said and done feels tainted. He probably shouldn’t have listened to his dick because then his heart wouldn’t have had a chance to get involved. After all, that’s when everything started to fall apart. He should’ve backed off when he caught feelings, but Theo has already gotten into his head at that point.

“That’s not true.”

“Kira—”

“No.” She flicks his arm and then lies down next to him. “You can tell he loves you. It’s so easy to see.”

Sighing, Stiles pulls his arm away and looks at her. “There’s an accusation somewhere in there, and I don’t like it.”

Kira understands that as her cue to continue. “I know what Theo did was wrong,” she says, sitting back up, “don’t get me wrong. It’s just—” fidgeting with her hands, Kira shifts into a cross-legged position “--- after you said you don’t trust him in the beginning, I decided to keep an eye on him.” She hooks a finger under her sleeve and sighs.” Every time, and I mean every time, you’ve entered a room, he turns to watch you. Whenever you talk, he watches you. And whenever he watches you, his eyes light up. He looks so genuinely happy even when you don’t give him the time of day… it’s like, I don’t know, like an invisible weight is lifted off his shoulders.”

Stiles closes his eyes. The thing is, he noticed all of that too. He knew Theo was looking when he thought Stiles wasn’t paying attention. But he was. All the time. It’s impossible not to notice Theo. He’s ever-present, and he refuses to get out of Stiles’ head, no matter what. Kira telling him all that is not helping. Not even in the slightest. “So,” Stiles says, squinting at the ceiling, “you’re saying I should forgive him?”

“I’m saying you should hear him out.” Kira tips her head to the side. “I think he deserves a few minutes of your time, don’t you?”

Groaning, Stiles covers his eyes again. He hates that she’s right.

- - -

Theo didn’t answer his phone, he wasn't home, and he wasn’t at school the next day. If it were anybody else, Stiles would assume they were moping because of Stiles’ not talking to them for a few months now. But Theo doesn’t mope, and he certainly doesn’t give up. That’s why he dragged Kira to the police station with him the second school’s over. Parrish was less excited but tracked the last known location of Theo’s phone anyway.

Turns out, Theo is somewhere inside a warehouse in the middle of nowhere. The concerning part isn’t necessarily the location; it’s the flashing light and screaming that’s a cause for concern.

“Okay, Stiles,” Kira says, following him out of Roscoe as quickly as she can, “don’t let your emotions get the best of you. The nogits—”

Narrowing his eyes, Stiles throws his hands in the air. The door to the warehouse blasts open, flying off its hinges.

Kira sighs and pulls out her katana. “Fine, let’s do it your way.”

This fucking town and everyone inside of it are cursed. Every fucking year, like goddamn clockwork, something is going on. Hunters, supernatural fuckfaces, or teenagers losing their minds. The options are endless, and today it seems they’re going back to the roots after all the bullshit that was the Dread Doctors.

The lights stop flickering, and so does the screaming.

A man spins around. Something yellow clatters to the floor. But Stiles’ gaze snaps towards Theo, chained to the fence and wet to the bone — just like the rest of his pack. His hair and clothes stick to his skin, but his eyes are wide. Stiles can sense his pain from here.

Stiles returns his attention to the man. “I know who you are.” Stiles tilts his head, smiling as he raises his right hand. “Schrader,” he says in a low voice, stepping further into the warehouse. “Never thought I’d see you outside of Eichen House.”

Schrader looks around, panic flooding the room.

Part of Stiles hopes he remembers him, but he’s aware that it doesn’t matter in the end. Stiles isn’t here for petty revenge. A smile slips onto his lips as he stops walking, eyes still fixed on Schrader. He’s here to save Theo. “You should’ve stayed in Eichen.” Stiles raises both of his hands, feeling excitement rush through his veins as Schrader lifts into the air. The panicked shrieks are music to his ears. It’s always the same; hunters and bullies are cocky bastards until they meet someone they can’t pick on. “Don’t touch my boyfriend and his pack ever again.” He twists his left hand. Schrader’s neck snaps, and he crumbles to the floor like a broken doll.

“We talked about this,” Kura mumbles, elbowing him in the side. “You have to keep your feelings under control. This cannot keep happening.”

Stiles ducks his head. “Sorry.”

“So,” Theo interrupts them, clanging his chains against the fence, “if you don’t mind?”

His relief at seeing Theo alive clashes with his annoyance at Theo’s behavior. Remembering he worked with the Dread Doctors doesn’t help either. Stiles grinds his teeth, staring at his boyfriend — are they even still together after months of whatever this was? — and raises his hand. With a single snap of his fingers, four sets of chains open and clatter to the ground.

Josh fails to catch his balance and is only saved by Hayden and Tracy from falling onto his face.

Corey rubs his wrists, pulling a face. “Thank you,” he says softly and glances from Stiles to Theo, still chained to the fence, and back again.

Finally cutting eye contact with a mildly pissed-off Theo, Stiles smiles at Corey. “Don’t mention it,” he replies, forcing himself to speak as lightly as possible. He’s pissed, but the other chimeras had nothing to do with any of this. They’re not at fault for Theo being a lying asshole.

“Babe…”

Stiles turns away, grabbing Kira’s wrist. They are leaving, or he’s going to punch Theo in his smug, stupidly handsome face. He deserves it.

“So, we’re not listening to him?” Kira asks quietly, dragging her feet a little as she goes.

“Wait.” Another set of chains clatters to the ground. “Stiles, babe.” Theo rushes towards him, footsteps echoing around the warehouse. “Please.” There’s an odd crack in his voice, “please, please, wait.”

Despite himself, Stiles stops and lets go of Kira. After exchanging a short glance, she leaves Stiles to his own devices. It’s probably better this way, even though Stiles doesn’t exactly feel ready to forgive Theo yet. Something has to give if he ever wants to figure out how any of this— how they can continue. Because they’ve lived in this fog for a couple of months. He either needs to listen to Theo and give him another chance, or he has to break up with him.

But he doesn’t want to.

He can’t.

Theo runs his fingers through his wet hair, smiling ever so softly. “Thank you for…” he trails off then nods in the general direction of Schrader’s body and his pack.

Stiles folds his arms over his chest.

“And I’m sorry,” Theo adds, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I should’ve told you about my past with the Dread Doctors.”

Stiles believes him, he really does — even though he tries his best to deny it.

“Meeting you again changed everything.” Theo reaches for his hand and seems almost startled when Stiles doesn’t pull away for once. “I— I’m…” he trails off again, and after a few seconds of silence, Theo pulls him close — probably more than aware of what this does to him.

Stiles has denied himself those touches for far too long, and maybe he could’ve spared himself all of this if he’d listened to his heart instead of allowing his anxiety to run rampant. He should know better than that.

Theo licks his lips, curling his arms around Stiles’ waist. “I missed you,” he whispers, brushing their noses together. “I love you.”

A small part of him is still hesitant about trusting Theo, or about letting him back in. The idea of having his heart ripped out of his chest and stomped on once more is more than a little terrifying — mostly because Stiles doubts he’ll make it through this again. Just imagining it makes him feel sick. He loves Theo, more than he’d ever dare to admit. It’s a scary thought, but, at the end of the day, it’s the truth. Plus, Theo did kill the Dread Doctors. He protected Lydia and helped get Kira back from the skinwalkers. Theo did a lot of shit wrong, but he does try to make up for it, but he still lied. It’s going to take a while to come back from that.

“You’re not gonna say it back, are you?” Theo quirks a brow. His tone is amused despite his attempts to look annoyed. “Are you still not talking to me?”

Stiles puts his hands on Theo’s shoulder, gently pushing him away. He’s going to hold out a little longer. Theo will survive it, and hopefully, learn his lesson never to lie again — especially not over something this huge.

Theo slips his hands lower, pushing them both into the back pockets of Stiles’ pants. “You’re a stubborn ass, you know that?” He smirks, eyes darkening ever so slightly when he pulls him close while very pointedly squeezing his ass. “Which I love very much, by the way. You and your ass, that is.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles flicks Theo’s nose.

Apparently, Theo takes that as his cue to kiss him. Hard. And if the low rumbling in his chest is any indication, Theo might not make him talk any time soon, but he’ll certainly make him moan.

--- --- ---

#steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #teen wolf #stiles x theo #theo x stiles #*tv:teen wolf #*w:bthb #*w:complete #*s:steo

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velvetcloxds · 3 years ago

Text

MEET THE MIKAELSONS| D.H.

Pairing: Derek x Fem! Reader, Teen Wolf x The Originals (requested)

Word count: 1962 words

Warning: none, just fluff

Summary: Reader takes her friends and her boyfriend, Derek to visit her family home where they find out that she’s related to the infamous Mikaelson vampires.

“Just don’t touch anything,” I command calmly, Stiles pausing mid air as his hand hovers over one of Klaus’s paintings and everyone allows for a soft laugh, Derek kissing the side of my head as his hand remains inside my back pocket.

“This place is beautiful,” Lydia notes, looking around slowly as her eyes move over the various features of the compound.

“Yeah,” I say with a shrug, walking deeper into the compound as I mimic her actions, mentally comparing the way it looks to the pictures Rebekah sent me with her letters and I can’t help but smile when my eyes settle on the Mikaelson crest, fingers reaching out mindlessly as I trace the carved wall numbly.

“What does it stand for?” Derek asks, moving behind me where he wraps his hands around my waist, face resting on my shoulder. My smile grows due to the gesture, free hand finding one of his.

“Mikaelson,” I note softly, memories of our family suddenly speeding through my mind like a slideshow, things I’d told myself I’d forgotten completely proving to be embedded into my brain.

“Like the ancient vampire family?” Scott asks, having disappeared to the bathroom for a minute as soon as we got here.

“More vampires?” Stiles asks from behind me, and I nod.

“Yeah, they’re the first of their kind,” I explain, though my attention is far from this conversation, a feeling similar to the one I felt when I explained this to Derek, him being the only one knowing not only who I truly am and where I come from, but whom I was running from. “The Originals,” I add, and Derek gives me a slight squeeze, turning me around in his arms, probably picking up on my dazed state.

“Cool,” Is all Stiles offers as a reply, taking Lydia’s hand as Scott follows them to explore more of the house.

“You okay?” He whispers, leaning towards me. I nod in his hold, hands moving to his arms.

“Just a little weird being here, I guess.” I look up to him, smiling slightly when our eyes meet. “I thought that when I finally got to see this place in all its glory, they’d be here with me, waiting maybe,” Derek nods with understanding, smiling sympathetically.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” He loosens his grip, leaning back to get a better look at me. “We can leave if you’re not comfortable,” He offers sweetly and I shake my head with a smile, kissing his lips quickly.

“No,” I tell him though I can’t hide the slight rise in my tone, his brows furrowing as a result. “We need to let things cool down in Beacon Hills and no one will bother us here,” I pause, sighing softly as I move my hands over his bare arms. “Besides, there’s a literal coffin around here somewhere with my name on it.”

“Wait really?” Derek asks intrigued as he looks around the room pointlessly. I nod, not fighting against the smile on my lips.

“Yeah, a dagger too, but I doubt we’ll find that just laying around,” I pull away from him briefly, taking his hand in mine as I guide him towards the hallway by the staircase where Stiles’ is excitedly gesturing towards the wall.

“It’s her!” He announces loudly, eyes moving over the painting that Klaus painted of our family, and I subconsciously tighten my grip on Derek’s hand, his thumb moving up and down against my skin to soothe me.

“It’s not her,” Lydia argues with a roll of her eyes, arms folded as Scott simply watches the scene unfold. “It’s far more likely to be a relative that looks remarkably a lot like her,” She reasons and Derek bites back a grin at my side.

“She’s a vampire, right?” Stiles ask, looking to me for conformation and I nod, seeing no need for the question as he literally walked in on me sipping from a blood bag a few months ago. “And she’s been annoyingly vague about her family and her history, right?” He asks, question directed at Scott and Lydia this time, they both nod. “And she brought us to her family home, which has paintings of the Mikaelson family which Scott saw in the bestiary, where he also read that the Mikaelson family also have a long-lost hybrid sister who hasn’t been spotted in years…” Stiles nods eagerly as he waits for the pieces to fall together, Scott and Lydia looking to me as it does.

“Are you a Mikaelson?” Scott asks, hands in his pockets as he shifts on his feet, I release a shaky breath before offering a mere nod as reply, Stiles almost jumping up and down with the conformation of him being correct.

“Holy shit,” Stiles begins and turns to me, eyes sparkling with excitement. “That is so cool, like literally the coolest thing you’ve ever told us about yourself,” He informs me, and Derek shakes his head at my side, glaring at the boy as he continues to grow more excited.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Scott asks hesitantly, ignoring Stiles who is fiddling with his jacket sleeves as he takes a closer look at my specific painting. “Didn’t you trust us?” He adds as well, and I shake my head quickly.

“Of course I trust you,” I begin, and Derek squeezes my hand again, reminding me to breathe as I think of the best way to explain this. “I wanted to tell you all, truly I did, but our family has enemies around every corner, and I didn’t want to bring you guys into that,” I look over all of them quickly before turning to meet Derek’s gaze. “I love you all too much to create unnecessary collateral damage.“

“So why tell us now?” Lydia questions with a raised brow and I notice the added heartbeats filling the room behind us before I could fathom a reply, the gushing wind of their entrance still swirling around us.

“Because you’re in need of our assistance,” A familiar voice explains, and I close my eyes for a second in preparation before turning to face my older brother.

“Elijah,” I whisper in acknowledgement, the words barely leaving my lips before he’s picking me up into his arms, twirling me around in a welcoming hug that causes a childlike giggle to erupt from my lips. “I’ve missed you too,” I confirm, hands on his shoulders as he sets my feet back on the ground and I take a moment to center myself. “And you,” I say when my eyes meet with Rebekah’s, happy tears tugging at her eyes and I release myself from Elijah’s presence to pull her into my arms, her arms folding around my neck as she holds me close.

“It has been far too long, Y/n ,” She whispers, laughing lightly through her tears. She squeezes me tightly before pulling away, hands moving to comb back the hair that’s been ruffled through our hug and her hands still on my cheeks as she takes me in. “My little sister, even more beautiful than I remember,” She notes, which earns a scoff from both my lips and Elijah’s.

“I look exactly the same, Bekah and you know it,” I muse, taking the handkerchief from Elijah’s hands to hold it out for Rebekah . “Though, I’d never turn down the compliment from the beauty of the family.”

“Oh, I take great offense by your insinuation, love, ” Klaus announces, and everyone turns to the entrance, where he leans against the wall, watching the interaction. “Welcome home, Y/n,” He notes with a large smile, and I know as far as greeting go, that’s quite the scene from the hybrid.

“Thank you, Niklaus,” I offer in the same and my cheeks practically hurt form the pure excitement rushing through me at seeing them all again, the nerves and discomfort from earlier slipping away almost completely, until Klaus’ eyes meet Derek’s and suddenly reality sinks back in. I take a few steps back, smiling up at Derek before rejoining our hands, my other hand snaking around his upper arm to keep him close. “I should introduce everyone,” I note with a nervous smile and Derek simply nods reassuringly.

“I’d begin with the creature you’re so eagerly latching onto,” Klaus announces, happy tone from earlier replaced with the all so familiar big brother voice.

“Play nice, Niklaus,” Elijah instructs, accepting my grateful smile before silently commanding me to continue.

“This is my boyfriend, Derek,” I begin, looking up at the man as he extends a hand towards Elijah inducing the longest handshake I’ve ever had to endure until Rebekah clears her throat, the two men pulling away from each other. “Then there’s Lydia, Stiles and Scott,” I add, releasing a small huff of air as I gesture to each of them individually.

“It’s good to meet all of,” Rebekah speaks up, catching my gaze with a warm smile before she looks to my guests. “We’re the Mikaelsons,” She explains, and I nod lightly. “Elijah, Klaus and I’m Y/n’s personal favorite, Rebekah,” She declares simply, mimicking my gesture until everyone has extended an acknowledging nod.

“We should talk business,” Klaus commands suddenly, standing from his leaning position to walk towards us. “You bunch are here for a reason, aren’t you?” He muses with a slight wink my way and I roll my eyes at the remark, knowing that only he would take this opportunity to take a jab at my decision to leave them.

“Don’t start, Niklaus,” Elijah offers with a tight tone and I would’ve laughed if the room wasn’t so tense, a sense of familiarity filling me at the little group dynamic that’s remained the same through all these years.

“I’m not starting anything, Elijah,” Klaus replies, hurriedly pulling his leather jacket straight. “I’m simply trying to remind our dear sister that she is here on what she called a family favor and that we wouldn’t want to waste her precious time,” I’m too late to stop the soft laugh that escapes my lips, Klaus turning towards be in slight shock.

"Honestly Klaus, it has been centuries and you're telling me that no one has yet to remove that stick from your ass?” I mock and Elijah steps forward, fully prepared to stop the interaction when a smile traces the hybrids lips.

“Little sister,” He muses and then shakes his head, pointing at me. “You have booked yourself a long dinner,” He announces and pats Elijah on the shoulder to invite him to leave the room with him. Elijah spares me a brief smile before following.

“That went better than expected,” Rebekah notes and I smile at her, nodding with relief as Klaus and Elijah begin discussing the diner plans on their climb up the stairs. “Why don’t I show you three your rooms,” she says and motions for Scott, Stiles and Lydia to follow them, pausing to give me a quick kiss on the cheek before leading them away as well. I turn to Derek with a smile, his eyes already waiting for mine as I do.

“You did good, sweetheart,” he tells me, making my heart swell as I lean into him. “I’m very proud of you,” He adds, and I feel a blush creeps onto my cheeks.

“I couldn’t have done it without you at my side,” I say simply, resting my chin against his chest as I look up at him. He hums lightly, shaking his head as he lifts his free hand to gently push the hair behind my ear.

“You definitely could have,” He muses and gently kisses my forehead, sending a welcome rush of pure bliss through my veins, I smile as he lingers close. “My brave girl.”

Hi there, more of my work can be found on Wattpad. Mxx.

Masterlist

#derek x reader #derekhale x reader #derek hale #derek hale imagines #derek hale one shot #teenwolf x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf fluff #the originals x reader #the originals #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #the mikaelsons

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allthatyoulove · 3 years ago

Text

Until Tomorrow

Isaac Lahey / Female Reader (she/her pronouns used)

Summary: Your best friend, Lydia, has been taken by the nogitsune. You’re determined to get her back- with the help of your crush, Isaac, and your best friends.

Includes: EXTREME ANGST, descriptions of injury, fluff, cussing (once, i think)

Words: 8.6k (!!!!!)

A/N: This is for a request I got from anon! I didn’t want to reply to it and give any spoilers, but this one if for you! I also might’ve changed a few things so the plot could run smoother. (Also, 8k words! I wrote this in one day; I absolutely loved this concept! Also- I will spellcheck in the morning, I haven’t moved from my computer and am exhausted.) Please check out my prompt list! You can request as many prompts as you’d like! Hope you enjoy the story! Feel free to leave any feedback and please let me know of any warnings or errors I missed, thanks for stopping by :)

~~~

Isaac’s eyes flashed yellow, shaking his head at Deaton.

“You’re next.” Deaton said, standing next to the running shower.

“W-wait. Just- wait, alright?” Isaac said, putting his hand up to stop. Deaton grabbed him, pulling him over to stand next to the shower. Isaac begrudgingly followed him, crouching down slightly so Deaton could get the nogitsune flies. His face twisted in disgust, and Deaton had to force open his mouth to grab it out.

I cringed from my spot next to the bench, my heart hammering in my chest with anxiety.

Isaac braced a hand on the wall, gagging as Deaton tried to get the fly out of his mouth.

“Don’t fight it.” Deaton repeated, Isaac’s arms flailing around him trying to yank Deaton’s hand out of his mouth. My eyebrows pulled together in concern, my balance switching between my feet. I watched them carefully, making sure Deaton wasn’t hurting him. I had to remind myself that he needed to do this, that it would help Isaac feel better in the end. It took everything in me not to run over there and tear Deaton’s hand out of Isaac’s mouth.

“Got it,” Deaton said, pulling the fly out and throwing it into the shower drain. Isaac braced both of his hands on the shower wall, panting for a second. I watched the fly fall down the drain, horrified. The black blood on the floor followed it. My eyes flew back up to Isaac, seeing if he was okay. Our eyes met when he lifted his head up, moving to take long and weary strides towards me. His hands held his stomach as he looked at me in discomfort. My face mirrored his as my eyes followed him. He went to the wall behind me, bracing himself once again as he spit out the blood in his mouth on the floor. I looked at Deaton as I rubbed a hand up and down his back soothingly.

“Are they okay now?” I asked, looking back at Isaac. He rubbed his mouth on his shirt, panting, but okay now.

“I hope so. The part that's worrisome is that this was most likely just a distraction for what was happening to Stiles.”

I could see Isaac looking at me from the corner of my eye as I thought out loud.

“But how did one of them just take Lydia?” I asked, looking at the ceiling. I felt so insanely worried. So devastated. All of my best friends were separated, trying not to die from the horrors that the Nogitsune was throwing at us left and right. Stiles had been possessed by it, creating two of him. One evil, one good. Flies had gotten into Derek, the twins and Isaac, controlling them to make them try to kill us. Now the nogitsune who was inhabiting a clone of Stiles had taken Lydia, my best friend since childhood, hostage. So it’s safe to say I’m pretty stressed right now.

“We turned around and they were gone. So was her car.” Deaton said, shrugging and shaking his head. He was just as lost as we were, which was even more alarming. He usually knew what to do in these situations. I was just grateful he was here to save Isaac.

“So no one notices him just kidnapping her right out of the house?” Ethan asked sarcastically. He was angry, just like the rest of us. Angry that the nogitsune was able to take Lydia so easily.

“Most of us were concentrated on the bizarre sight of a creature, materializing from out of the floor.” Deaton said obviously, gesturing with his hands. Ethan lowered his head in defeat.

“Hold on, how are you so sure which Stiles is which?” Isaac asked.

“That’s what they’re trying to figure out now.” Deaton said, looking around at all of us.

The room fell into a heavy silence, thinking of what they could possibly be doing to Stiles. My heart broke for him, for what he’s been going through. Stiles was one of my best friends, and I would take his place in an instant.

My mind wandered to Lydia. On where she could be, how scared she probably is. My friends and I have been through and seen a lot of messed up things together, but each time it seems to get worse and worse.

I was snapped out of my trance when Isaac’s hand started to rub my back. My eyes went to his, seeing a sympathetic look on his face. He knew what I was thinking about, who I was thinking about. That’s the only place my mind has been recently. I gave him a sad smile.

Scott, Melissa, and Allison were helping Stiles. I had to help Lydia.

“I have to find Lydia. Anything she left. Traces, clues, anything to help me find her.” I said, looking at Deaton. He nodded, and Isaac intertwined his hand with mine. I turned to look at him.

“I’ll go with you.” He said softly. I nodded at him, thanking Deaton for his help before we left.

Isaac pulled apart the lock on the gate, letting it fall to the ground. He opened it, taking a step back and looking at me. I went in, looking at the blue car in front of me.

“This is it. This is Lydia’s car.” I told him, walking towards it.

“The scent is strong with emotion.” Isaac said, analyzing the car.

“Fear?” I asked, walking around to the driver’s side.

Anger.” Isaac said, looking at the back window.

“Sounds like Lydia. Let’s see what else we can find.” I said, looking all over the side of the car. Isaac dropped down to the floor, checking underneath. It was quiet for a second before my mind wandered to a couple nights before. Isaac and I had slept together for the first time. I hadn’t thought of it until now, but now my stomach fluttered with emotion as it all came back to me. I needed to know something from Isaac, now that the nogitsune fly was gone, before I let myself think too much into it.

“Uh, just- just out of curiosity, do you remember the other night?” I asked, raising my voice over the wind. I shut my eyes in embarrassment and preparation, scared of the answer.

“You mean the night before last night?” He asked, still on the ground, checking the car.

“That night before… you weren’t you.” I said, shaking my head. My heart was beating almost out of my chest when he rose from the ground, looking at me with unreadable emotion. He stared at me for a second in silence, his eyes squinting from the sun.

“Yeah. I remember.” He said, looking at the ground before he looked at me again. I got into the car, my mind racing with a thousand questions. He followed me, getting into the passenger's seat. I took a deep breath, staring at my hands in my lap.

“So that night, were you you or were you not you?” I asked, squirming in my seat. I couldn’t look him in the eyes, switching between my hands and the steering wheel.

“You mean, the night when we were us?” He asked, looking up at me.

“Yeah,” I nodded, looking at him. “I just wanna know if… if it was actually you… with me.” I finished, looking back at the steering wheel. He turned his head to me, not responding right away. I finally looked at him, swallowing nervously as I waited for his answer.

“Did- did you want it to be someone else?” He asked, his face serious and confused.

“No. No.” I said, laughing nervously. “Of course not.” I shook my head, blushing.

“Good.” He said, looking at his hands and then back to look at me. “Because it was me.”

I nodded, wanting to run laps from the amount of adrenaline running through my body. I was still so nervous, wanting to ask so many more questions.

“And... I do remember it.” He continued, “I really remember it.”

I looked over at him, not hiding the smile that broke out on my face. He smiled back at me, looking between my lips and eyes. My heart was jumping with relief, my face heating with happiness. I looked back at my lap, trying to contain my smile by biting my lip. I looked out the window, not wanting him to see the blush crawling up my face.

My brows furrowed as I looked closer at the window. It was smudged. Not an accidental smudge, but a deliberate someone-smudged-something-on-the-window type of mark. My mind went to when Lydia and I would write on each other's cars, to give eachother secret messages or mess with the other person. It was a tradition we’d been doing since we were kids. I wrote on Lydia’s mom's car, Lydia wrote on Chris’- who was my uncle. Allison and I would sneak over to Lydia’s house all the time, laughing about whatever it is we smudged on her car that day. We’d always get in trouble for it, but that made it all the more fun.

I breathed on the window, fogging it up.

‘DON’T FIND ME’ was written on the window.

My heart stopped in my chest and my brows furrowed as I turned to look at Isaac. He read it, his eyes meeting mine with equal concern.

---

I screwed a new sight on my crossbow, messing with the connectors and trying to secure it on. Allison was behind me, rummaging through the cupboards and looking for a sling to attach to her own. I had burst in here earlier, mumbling a “hi” before getting straight to work. I didn’t feel like talking much, I just wanted my hands doing something.

I was looking closely at the inside of the scope when I heard Chris’ voice.

“I had a feeling you both might be down here.” He said, entering the room. Allison huffed and sat down in a chair, smiling at her dad. I glanced up at him, smiling before looking back at my crossbow as I replied.

“I needed to do something. I hate waiting.” I picked up the screwdriver, “Feeling useless.” I finished, sighing.

“Where’s Isaac?” He asked me, moving to my side.

“He’s trying to help Scott.” I said, raising my eyebrows as I began screwing in the scope.

“Trying to be useful?” Chris asked sarcastically. I gave him a small smile, nodding. I could hear Allison let out a short laugh before shuffling through the cupboards again, Chris watching me work on the crossbow. I let out a huff of irritation. I was overloaded with worry, and I could feel myself being short and cold with him. I felt bad, but I couldn’t control the amount of frustration I had.

The screwdriver wouldn’t fit into the scope’s own defined screw, which led to me aggressively trying to maneuver it. I was almost scratching the sight with the amount of force I was using. The more I pushed on it the more it would move, the screwdriver going everywhere but where I needed it to.

Chris’ raised his hand to rest on top of mine, stopping the movements. I shut my eyes in frustration and let out a deep breath, trying to get myself together.

“Leave it for now, hmm?” He asked, letting go of my hand and walking behind me. I put my hands on the table, blankly looking at the crossbow.

“I have something else you can do. Something you can both do.” Chris said from behind me. I turned in the stool, looking at him as he kneeled to the ground in front of a cabinet. Allison came to stand next to me, both of us watching him as he opened a safe under a table. He picked up a black container, bringing it to the table and setting it between Allison and I. He opened it, my eyes widening in awe.

There were six silver bars resting on black foam, imprinted with a logo. Chris picked one of them up, looking between Allison and I.

“It’s time for your graduation.”

Allison and I looked at each other and smiled.

Chris put the silver he melted into a bucket, placing it between Allison and I for our arrowhead molds. Chris kissed Allison’s forehead as she began making them, then mine, before turning to leave.

“Wait, Chris. Allison, you too.” I said, making him stop in his tracks and come back over to me expectantly. Allison looked up at me as well.

“If something happens…” I started, thinking of the inevitable fight that was supposed to happen tonight. Frustrations aside, I had to get this out before tonight.

“Hey, hey. You don’t need to worry about me.” He said, interrupting me.

“Or me.” Allison said, shaking her head.

“Well, I- I didn’t get to say anything to my dad.” I said, looking up from my hands to glance between them. Their expressions changed to sorrow, Chris remembering his brother and Allison her uncle. Allison placed her hand over my own that was resting on the table, Chris’ going to my shoulder.

“You didn’t need to say anything.” Chris assured, looking at me with love and grief.

“And we’re both going to be around for a long time. I promise.” Allison added, smiling comfortingly at me.

“Well, then take it as a reminder.” I said sternly. I waited a second, not wanting to cry. There was no need to cry, they promised they would be around for a long time. Still, I didn’t want to regret this. There was always a chance.

“Maybe you guys don’t need to hear it, but I- I need to know that I said it.” I said, switching my gaze between their eyes’.

Their eyebrows furrowed in sadness as they listened.

“I love you both. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of us.” I said, holding both of their hands as I looked in their eyes. They came in for a group hug, Chris placing a kiss on my head as Allison wrapped her arms around us.

---

I opened Scott’s bedroom door, Isaac following behind me.

Allison had told me she would make the molds for us, and that I should be with Isaac, Stiles, and Scott trying to find Lydia. I thanked her profusely, some of my nerves calming down. As soon as I pulled up to Scott’s house, they did too with a girl in a grey sweatshirt- who looked really scared. Isaac came over to explain things to me while they took her inside.

“Lydia? You mean the red-haired girl?” The girl- whose name I learned was Meredith- said. She was sitting on the bed, Stiles in front of her. Stiles was fine now, after the experiment Mrs. Yukimura performed on him. He was back to his normal self, which made me happy. Isaac and I walked on either side of him. Stiles nodded profusely at her.

“Yes! Yes! Good. Progress.” He said, looking up at Isaac and I. We smiled encouragingly at him as he continued. “Now, all you gotta do is tell us where she is.” He said, licking his lips and waving his hands expectantly.

“Okay,” Meredith said, looking between us all, “If she tells me.” We all froze in place, Stiles staring at her with his eyebrows furrowed.

“If she tells you?” Isaac asked, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “Can you ask her?”

“I already did.” Meredith said, smiling at us confidently.

“Perfect. Perfect. What did she say?” Stiles asked, concentrating on Meredith. We all held our breath with anticipation.

“She said... she doesn’t want to be found.” Meredith finished.

My mouth dropped, my eyebrows furrowing in shock. I looked over at Isaac with confusion, who was already looking at me just the same. Stiles looked up at the wall behind Meredith, his hands fidgeting together.

“That’s good too.” He said, his eyebrows shooting up in irritation.

“Okay.” I sighed, walking over to Scott’s bathroom. We needed a plan. Isaac and Stiles followed me in, beginning a conversation. I was too busy thinking of something to do while they talked until I heard the end of something Isaac said.

“-I’m just saying-”

“Isaac we are not going to torture her.” Stiles whispered, one arm crossed against his chest while the other came off of his forehead for emphasis.

“I meant scare her.” He frantically whispered.

“Hey, we’re not going to psychologically torture her either.” Stiles said sternly.

“Fine.” Isaac said, rolling his eyes. I spoke up after they finished their bickering.

“How about this- you said she hears things, right?” I whispered to them, both boys looking at me. Stiles nodded, listening to me closely.

“Doesn’t that mean she’s like Lydia?”

“A Banshee?” Isaac asked, looking at me as I nodded, then to Stiles. Stiles looked at the ground in thought for a moment before we all turned our heads to look at her. Stiles looked back at us in thought. I nodded, picking up on what he was trying to say. At my affirmation, we all moved back into the room. Stiles went to crouch in front of her on his knees, Isaac leaning over with his hands on his knees. I stood with my arms crossed, focusing on her to see if this would work. I was silently praying it would. I’ve never gone this long without Lydia, we were always together. Every second that passed put a strain on my heart.

“Okay, just try to focus on the sounds around you.” Stiles said, motioning with his hands. Meredith stared at him intently as he continued. “On what you’re hearing. Just focus on the silence.” Meredith nodded, a determined look on her face.

“Listen to the silence.” Isaac said, nodding at her. I smiled at how serious he looked, how focused he was in helping. It made my stomach flutter with how much he also wanted to find Lydia, how much he knew she meant to me.

“Focusing on the silence-” Stiles said, nodding.

“Listening. To the-” Isaac interrupted, glaring at Stiles before looking back at Meredith.

“Okay, will you just let me handle this, Isaac. Please? I just… I have more experience with banshees.” Stiles said sarcastically.

“Yeah. And mental patients.” Isaac shot back. I let out a laugh, immediately covering my mouth. Stiles heard me, shooting me a glare before turning around to scowl at Isaac again.

“Isn’t anyone going to get that?” Meredith asked, looking at Stiles. We all looked at her with confusion.

“Get what?” I asked, looking at the boys. We all shared a look.

“The phone.” She said, nodding as if it was obvious.

“What phone?” Stiles asked.

“The phone.” Isaac and I said at the same time, pointing at the phone in his pocket. Meredith pointed as well. Stiles looked up at me in question, and I shot him a ‘go along with it’ look. He snapped into character.

“Oh, the phone. My phone? Yes. Of course.” He said, pulling out his phone. He looked at Isaac and I. Isaac nodded, chuckling nervously and staying in character. I was holding in my laughter, which almost made Isaac break out in laughter too. I turned around for a second before I put on a serious face again.

“Hello.” Stiles said, holding his phone to his ear. “Yes, she is- she is actually. She’s sitting right here. It’s for you.” He told Meredith, pointing at her and giving the phone over. She took it, holding it up to her ear. We all waited expectantly, holding out breath as she sat there, concentrated. After a couple of seconds of silence she took it away from her ear, ‘hanging up’ before giving it back to Stiles.

“They say Coup de foudre.” She said matter-of-factly. I looked between Stiles and Isaac, who were looking at me as well. We all started speaking at the same time.

“Coup, coup-”

“Coup de what?”

“What is that, Spanish?” Stiles asked. Isaac and I shook our heads, at a loss for words.

“French.” A voice came from behind us. We turned around, seeing Scott in the doorway. “It’s french.”

---

“Yeah? What happened?” Allison’s voice came through the phone.

“We know where Lydia is.” I told her straight away. I told her the location, Allison hanging up and leaving immediately. I called Chris to let him know as well. When he answered, I spoke before he could get a word in.

“We found her. We found her, Chris. We found Lydia. We’re on our way.” I rushed out, high off the adrenaline of being so close.

“Hold on, hold on. You have to wait.” He said seriously. I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me.

“I… I can’t, Chris.” I said. I looked down at my lap, a wave of sadness rushing over me. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt bad for not listening to him. Isaac was watching me, entwining my hand with his. I shot him a quick half smile.

“Hey, wait for me.” Chris said, demanding.

“There’s no time.” I argued, “It’s already night. There’s no time, Chris.”

“Wait! Wait for me,” He raised his voice, not leaving any room for debate. I hung up on him, not wanting him to convince me to wait any longer. I couldn’t. Now was the time.

It was silent in Stiles’ jeep after I hung up. Isaac was looking ahead, Scott deep in thought. Stiles glanced at Scott before speaking.

“Hey, you okay?”

Yeah.” Scott snapped out of it, trying to sound genuine, “Yeah. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Alright, I’m gonna say it.” Isaac spoke up from next to me. I looked up at him, startled to hear his voice. “You look like you’re dying.”

Scott and I both stared at him, shocked at what he was saying. I lightly hit him on the shoulder, but he continued.

“You’re pale, thin, and you look like you’re getting worse.” He turned to look at me, “And we’re all sitting here thinking it.” I looked down, knowing his was right. Stiles' eyebags had gotten worse within just a few hours, and he looked like he was caving into himself.

“When we find the other you, is he gonna look like he’s getting better?” I thought out loud, looking between everyone. Scott looked down at his lap as he spoke.

“What happens if he gets hurt?” He asked Stiles, referencing the nogitsune that was inhabiting a clone of him currently.

“You mean if he dies, do I die? I don’t care. So long as no one else dies because of me.” He said, glancing at all of us. None of us met his eyes.

“I remember everything I did.” Stiles continued, “I remember pushing that sword into you. I remember twisting it.”

“It wasn’t you.” Scott cut in, looking over at Stiles.

“Yeah, but I remember it. You guys have to promise me.” He said, looking back at Isaac and I before looking back at the road. “You can’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.” We all nodded silently to each other.

It was getting dark outside, and we were getting closer to Oak Creek, where Lydia was. I swallowed nervously, trying to find the confidence to speak up again.

“Hey, guys I, uh- I said something to my dad and Allison, so I- I wanted to say the same to you all.” I said, looking up as I finished. Stiles looked in the rearview mirror at me, Stiles turning in his seat to look at me and Isaac meeting my eyes as well. My heart was about to beat out of my chest. I took a breath to calm down before I spoke.

“You guys are my family. After I lost my dad, and moved in with Allison, you were all there for me. We’ve been through so much together, and- and if one of you guys get hurt, I need to know that I said this. I love you all. You mean the world to me, and I am so proud of how much we’ve grown together.” I finished. Isaac squeezed my hand, bringing me into his chest in a hug. Stiles reached back to put a hand on my knee comfortingly, Scott doing the same. The guys hesitantly said ‘I love you’s’ as well. I laughed at how awkward they were being, which resulted in everyone breaking out into laughter.

I remember when I had first started to learn about Chris’ family all being hunters, about my dad having been a hunter. I was shocked, but interested. I wanted to be like my dad, who was my hero. Allison and I trained together, deciding that a crossbow was our favorite weapon of choice. We grew together, in our skills and in life. All that time, however, I never knew what I would be hunting. Animals, maybe. Until my best friend, Scott, told me he was a werewolf. Everything changed when that happened. When I was introduced to the world of the supernatural. Since then we’ve all fought werewolves, chanimas, and even a darach together. So what trouble was adding a nogitsune to the list?

We loved each other, and we’d be okay.

---

We pulled up to Oak Creek, all of us getting out of Stiles’ jeep. Allison was already there, waiting for us at the gate. We all walked over, forming a circle. We slowly looked around, before we all looked at Scott, waiting. For what, we weren’t sure. Until he started speaking.

“We’ve done this before, guys. A couple of weeks ago we were standing around just like this and we saved Malia, remember?” We all nodded, remembering the werecoyote we banded together to save.

“That was a total stranger. This is Lydia.” He said. I looked to the ground, nodding and getting more and more ready to go fight. He was right. This wasn’t us saving just anyone who was in trouble. We all knew her. We all loved her. We would do anything to protect her.

I would do anything to get her back.

“I’m here to save my best friend.” I said to the group.

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

“I came here for my girlfriend.” Isaac said. I looked up at him, to see him looking at me. I blushed and smiled at him, moving closer to him. He wrapped his arm around me. Butterflies appeared in my stomach at the mention of me being his girlfriend. We had a lot to talk about, and a lot to clear up, but at this moment I was perfectly content with being his girlfriend.

We all sat in the company of one another for another minute before nodding at each other, turning to walk through the gates.

Allison, Isaac, Kira and I stayed in the yard of the place while Scott and Stiles ran to find Lydia. I argued to go with them, but they insisted that I should help the group, should Kira’s mom try to stop them before they get her out. Once Scott explained that to me, I agreed to stay out here with everyone else.

Scott and Stiles ran into the building, the rest of us walking up to Kira’s mom.

“Kira, turn around and go home. Take your friends with you.”

I took an arrow from the quiver strapped across my back, loading my bow with it and pointing it straight at her heart.

“I can’t. When I looked at the game I realized who I was actually playing. You.”

“Game?” I whispered, lowering my bow and looking around at them confused. Isaac was silently laughing to himself, trying to hide it. Kira and Allison turned and looked at me angrily for ruining the moment. Even Noshiko, Kira’s mom, was looking at me.

“Sorry,” I muttered, raising my bow again as everyone moved on. I looked at the demons on either side of Noshiko, covered head to toe in black leather armor. The demon faces they all wore were terrifying, but I didn’t let it show. Even if my heart was in my stomach from fear.

“Call them off.” I said, raising my chin as I kept the arrow pointed at her.

“You think you could save him? Your friend is gone.” She said, looking at all of us.

I swallowed, blinking a couple of times and raising my bow slightly higher.

“And the nogitsune is mine to bury.” As she said that, the oni standing beside her disappeared, leaving a cloud of black smoke behind.

***

Scott and Stiles ran down the hallways of the underground building as fast as they could. They stopped as it split into different directions, Scott looking both ways before going right and down a staircase. Lydia was behind a door of bars.

“Lydia? Are you all right?” Stiles asked frantically, Scott breaking the lock.

“No. No, no, no. Why are you here?” She asked with a terrified expression on her face.

“Lydia, we’re here for you.” Stiles said, as it was obvious.

“You weren’t supposed to be here.” She raised her voice before lowering it again, speaking directly to Scott. “You didn’t get my message?”

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

A tear fell down her cheek.

“Who else is here? Who came with you? Please don’t tell me she’s here.” She said, yelling the last sentence.

***

Noshiko’s mouth dropped a second later, her eyes unfocused as she looked at the ground. She brought her hand up, where a small light was. The light died, only a small cloud of smoke left behind.

“Mom?” Kira said worriedly. I lowered my bow slightly out of confusion.

“What is that?” Isaac whispered. I looked at him, sharing a look of worry between us.

“What does that mean?” I asked, my voice wavering. A voice came from behind me.

“It means there’s been a change in ownership.”

I spun around, seeing Stiles backed by the oni. No, not Stiles- the nogitsune.

Void Stiles.

“Now they belong to me.” He finished.

I raised my bow at him, my eyes widened in shock and in preparation. He watched me raise my bow, then smirked. The oni behind him raised their kitanas in a fighting stance. I heard Isaac growl behind me, now in werewolf form. I heard Allison arm her bow and Kira raise her kitana. There was a second of stillness, until they ran towards each other.

I began shooting my bow, the oni slicing through them. Two of them flanked Isaac. He was scratching them, dodging their swings and growling. Allison was shooting at the two that were surrounding Kira. The last one was standing back by void stiles, waiting.

Isaac and I had gained a momentum, him slicing their stomach and going to the next while I shot them, dazing them for a couple seconds before they yanked it out and continued. We kept this up a few times before one of them dodged Isaac’s scratch, going to stab him. He pushed them away as soon as they raised the kitana, sending him running into a nearby wall. I took aim and shot right at their head. Their kitana was raised at light speed, slicing right through the middle of the arrow. They ran at me, raising their kitana above their head. I didn’t have time to grab an arrow. I held my bow up, blocking their hit just as it came down. Isaac threw the other one in the opposite direction, staring up at me from the ground. I glanced at him, making sure he was okay. He was fine, staring at me with worry. The pressure of the hit made my arms buckle a little bit before I put my attention back on my opponent, forcing my bow back up with all my strength. I grit my teeth as I pushed their kitana up and away from me. They staggered backwards as Isaac raised his lower body, making the oni trip over him. He looked up at me, out of breath, and ran to my side. We backed up a couple of steps, assessing all around us.

Kira was fighting two of them, the sound of their katanas clashing echoing throughout Oak Creek. Allison was helping her fight, shooting them both with her arrows. My eyes squinted as a glare hit them. I looked at the source- Allison’s quiver that held her arrows. There were 6 arrows that were shining.

The silver. She brought the silver arrows.

I made a mental note to compliment how smart she was later.

The two oni got up from the ground, marching back over to Isaac and I. I raised my bow once more as Isaac yelled over his shoulder.

“How do we stop them?”

I spared a glance at Noshiko, who was standing underneath an opening in the building, a horrified look on her face.

“You can't!” She yelled.

I heard the slice of a katana, looking back to see Isaac with his hands limp at his sides. My heart stopped.

***

Scott ran through the underground corridor, Lydia and Stiles behind him.

“Lydia,” Stiles said, crouching over as he leaned against the wall. Lydia turned around, gasping and grabbing a hold of him.

“Lydia, I can’t…” He panted, grabbing onto her as he fell over. She held him, lowering him to the ground slowly.

“I can’t, I can’t…” He repeated, his eyes rolling into his head. Lydia’s eyes looked over his entire face, her hand coming up to his cheek.

He was freezing, and his skin was so pale. She looked to Scott, who continued running down the corridor. Her hands were shaking furiously, her eyes darting everywhere they could. Stiles fell unconscious, and she didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t think.

***

I raised my arrow as the other oni cut their blade through Isaac’s stomach. I let the arrow go, watching it fly right by them. My hands were shaking and I wasn’t breathing. I couldn’t.

Isaac growled and groaned in pain as he tried to fight back, throwing hit after hit towards the oni. They dodged them easily, stepping out of his reach as he swung. They took turns slicing his stomach, Isaac dropping to his knees.

My eyebrows pulled up together, my eyes filling with tears. One word was repeating over and over in my mind.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no-

I heard Allison yell my name. I looked over to her as another arrow missed, falling right behind the oni in front of me. She threw something to me, the item gleaming in the air. I caught it, looking down at it as tears fell down my cheek. I blinked them away, seeing that it was an arrow.

A silver arrow.

I wasted no time, sniffling as I blinked away the remaining tears. I raised the arrow, taking aim.

To the middle of the oni’s chest.

---

“What do you want?” I asked, not looking at him as I let go of the arrow. It sailed right by the tree, landing in the leaves behind it.

“Just came to watch the world’s greatest archer.” He said sarcastically, gesturing to the pile of missed shots sitting in the leaves next to the target. Not a single arrow sat on the target.

My face burned with humiliation. I didn’t say anything, instead taking another arrow and trying again. I brought it up, aiming for the middle of the target. I took a shaky breath, my hands not being able to stay still.

I released it as I exhaled, watching it soar through the air.

And into the ground.

I stared at it for a second, before looking at the ground. A tear slipped out of my eye and down my cheek. I couldn’t stop shaking. No matter what I did, I couldn’t hold it still. My hands shook at my sides as I let out a shaky breath, walking to the target to collect all of the arrows.

“Y’know, I actually think I would probably be a better shot.” He continued, raising his voice so I could hear him as I walked further away. I was grateful my back was to him as my entire body heated up with shame. I continued to ignore him as I picked up arrow by arrow, collecting them in my hand. I counted them as I picked them up until I had them all.

“I mean, really. And I’ve never even-”

He stopped mid sentence as I turned around to walk back. He saw my face, tears falling down. His sly smirk was gone in half of a second, quickly turning to guilt and confusion.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, looking at me as I got to my original spot. He walked closer to me to look at my face. I raised my bow again, letting out a breath.

“Nothing.” I said, letting go of the arrow. It hit just below the target, sticking into the tree. I let out a sharp, irritated breath through my nose. The shaking was getting worse and worse as I continued, but I got more angry and encouraged to keep trying as they missed. It was a vicious cycle.

When I brought my bow up yet again, I couldn’t do anything to hide my shaking. The entire bow was shaking now. More tears fell from my eyes as I took aim. I was waiting until I stopped shaking, standing still. He said my name softly.

“Look at me.” He said, putting his hand on mine and lowering my bow. I closed my eyes, letting out a breath before turning to him. I looked up at him pathetically, ready for some sarcastic remark.

“What happened?” He asked, bringing his hand up to put my hair behind my ear. Heat flushed my face at the gesture, my stomach twirling.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I whispered.

He looked as if I slapped him, hurt flashing over his face. He nodded in understanding, however. I was confused, wondering why he would be hurt over that. I couldn’t let him know I cared, however, keeping my face stone. We stood in silence for a second before he spoke softly.

“Let me help you.”

“Help me? How?” I spoke, sniffling. He gave me a small smile.

“I know a thing or two about anxiety.” He said. I let out a short laugh, to which he immediately reacted, his face brightening up.

“Come on, aim for it again.” He said, motioning with his head to the target. I looked at the target, then back at him.

“Just do it.” He said dramatically. I smiled and listened, raising the bow again. My hands still shook, a little less lightly now but still visible.

“Can I?” He asked, using his hands to motion towards me. I was slightly confused, but I trusted him. I’m not sure why.

I nodded at him. He moved closer to me, his chest touching my back. I held my breath, his arms wrapping around me to cover mine on the bow. He surrounded me, encasing me against his chest. He was so warm.

“Breathe.” He whispered into my ear, the vibration of his voice going through his chest. I inhaled and exhaled, closing my eyes with it. He breathed with me, very dramatically. I brought my elbow back, hitting him in annoyance. He let out an ‘ow!’ before laughing and apologizing. We continued to breathe together, until all I was focused on was the sound of our breaths.

After a couple of minutes, he slowly raised his hands off of mine.

“Now shoot.” He said, taking a step back. I internally sighed, the cold chill of the morning hitting my back.

I took another breath before letting the arrow go, watching it soar through the air.

Right into the middle of the target.

I raised my arms, cheering with happiness. I jumped up and down, turning to Isaac. He had a huge smile on his face, watching me with his hands in his jacket. I was so happy, I threw my arms around his neck. His hands immediately left his pockets, going to wrap around my waist and lift me into the air, spinning around. We laughed, completely happy on how well that worked. He slowly stopped spinning, putting me back down on the ground. My arms slowly left from around him, his arms staying around my waist. Our laughter died down as we looked into each other’s eyes. My eyes glanced between his, darting to his mouth. He did the same, the sound of us catching our breath all I could hear. I blushed, looking away and back at the target. His arms slowly left from around my waist, and I couldn’t keep the smile off my face as I took aim yet again.

“Let me do it again.”

---

I took a deep breath, focusing on the sound and the feeling in my stomach. I shut my eyes for a split second, opening them to my hands completely still. I didn’t hesitate on letting the arrow go.

Everyone around me seemed to freeze in place, only the oni moving in slow motion as Isaac looked at me in what seemed like his final moments. His eyes held so much love and admiration, pulling at my heartstrings. I looked back at the arrow, watching it.

The oni’s arm grew limp as the katana was raised above his head in the final blow, completely still. They looked straight ahead, as if frozen.

I held my breath as I lowered my arms, watching them.

Bright yellow light shone out of it’s chest as the oni struggled to grab onto it, trying to pull it out.

The ground shook, the oni exploding into black powder right in front of us. I shielded my eyes from the powder in the air, before turning my head back towards it.

The oni didn’t rise from the ground, didn’t come teleporting behind void stiles. It was gone. I killed it. It was dead.

I let out a sigh of relief, a smile breaking out on my face. Isaac smiled at me from the floor, despite the severe injuries on his chest. Kira continued fighting as I saw Allison turn towards me. I flashed a huge smile at Isaac before turning to her.

“Allison! You’re a genius! Did you see th-”

My sentence died in my mouth as a torturous and burning pain spread through my stomach. I whipped my head in front of me, meeting a smiling japanese demon mask. My mouth dropped, my eyebrows shooting up.

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All I did was feel. Feel the sharp, shredding pain searing through the middle of my stomach. I held onto the blade, feeling it in me as I tried to move it.

I heard Lydia somewhere, crying my name. It was piercing and rang through my head, the voice I missed so much.

The oni ripped it’s blade out of my stomach, my arms falling at my sides. I couldn’t do anything except watch. Watch as the red-coated katana ripped back out of my stomach.

My stomach hammered in my chest, my entire body becoming numb. My head was pounded as I watched everything in slow motion.

I could see movement all around me, but I couldn’t hear anything. The ground was like a magnet, pulling me towards it with all the strength it had. I surrendered to it, letting my body fall.

I felt something soft and warm. My eyes were open, seeing Isaac. His face turned back to human.

He cradled me, holding my shoulders and legs to him. His eyes were blown wide, his eyebrows knit together. His eyes went from my face to my stomach frantically.

All the sounds around me came back to me at once, hearing Isaac say my name. I was panting, feeling like the air around me was disappearing.

I was dying, I’m dying.

The oni had disappeared. Lydia.

“Did they find her? Is she okay? Is Lydia okay?” I breathed out as fast as I could. How much time do I have? I don’t want to go.

Isaac moved the hair from my face, looking into my eyes.

“She’s okay, they found her.” He said, nodding aggressively. He looked up, a tear rolling down his face.

“Scott! Help her!” He yelled, his voice wavering. He looked back down at me, my eyes never leaving his face.

His lips were pink, the corner red with his blood. His beautiful blue eyes were filled with so much sadness I couldn’t begin to perceive it.

I wanted to memorize his face. I wanted to remember every single detail. I swore to myself that even in an afterlife, where everything was forgotten, I would not forget him. I vowed it to myself.

Turning my head, I see Scott. Scott’s here. I felt him grab my hand that wasn’t being cradled and kissed by Isaac, squeezing it hard but not roughly. I watched him. His brows furrowed, his eyes filled with tears.

“I- I can’t.” His voice cracked, “I can’t take her pain.” He looked up at Isaac, who met his eyes. Scott stood up, his arm covering his mouth as he let out a cry.

“Scott? What do- what do you mean-” Isaac began.

“Isaac.” I whispered, my voice dying in my throat.

“What are you talking about? Help her! Please!” He yelled, his voice cracking as more tears fell down his face.

“Isaac.” I said louder, looking at the sky. The sky was so pretty. So vast and alluring, filled with memories of my childhood. Of my life.

“It’s because it doesn’t hurt.” I whispered out, entranced by the sky. Isaac looked at me, his other hand cradling my face.

“No. C’mon, baby, please. Don’t go. Don’t leave me.” He said, crying. Why was he sad? I felt so happy. Everything felt so light, I felt like I was floating.

“It’s okay.” I said, looking back at him. I nodded, convincing him. I would miss him.

He muttered my name once more, lightly rocking me back and forth as more cries left him.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” I repeated, whispering as I looked into his eyes. He shook his head, looking back at my stomach.

“Isaac. I love you.” I said, nodding. I needed him to know. I needed him to know.

He let out a sob, running his hands through my hair.

“And I love you. I love you. Don’t leave. Please, I- I can’t-” He said, gasping.

“It’s perfect.” I gasped, “I’m in the arms of the only person I’ve ever loved. The only person I’ll ever love. I’ll love you forever, Isaac. Isaac Lahey.” I said to him, breathing harder as I pressed a thumb against his lips, smearing the blood off. The air was leaving me. I wasn’t ready yet. I don’t want to go yet.

His face drew into despair, leaning closer to me to rest his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes, multiple tears falling down my face. I opened my eyes, the corner of my eyes starting to darken. I panicked.

Please, not yet. Just a little longer. Please, I don’t wanna go.

“You- You have to tell Chris. You have to tell my dad. You have to- you have to- tell-” I couldn’t finish my sentence, my lungs gasping as I tried to take a last breath

***

“No!” Isaac cried, cradling her face as her arms fell limp at her sides. Allison fell to her knees, crying out as Scott held her, sobbing with her. Allison couldn’t breathe, it hurt so bad. It hurts everywhere. Scott held her as tight as he could, burying his face in her hair.

Isaac held onto her, bringing her up to him so her head was in his shoulder. He rocked back and forth, repeating, “No, no, no, please, no.” into her hair.

Lydia lay in the corridor underground, head pressed to the ground. She was sobbing uncontrollably, the air escaping her and knocking against her lungs. She felt the ground underneath her collapsing into an endless abyss of agony. A wave of devastation, washing over Oak Creek.

Scott McCall’s pack and best friends watched as she took her last breath, closing her eyes as she fell into peace.

***

4 months earlier

I clutched my stomach in laughter, leaning over. Lydia and Allison leaned their heads on my shoulder and knee, also struggling to contain their laughter.

Stiles stood with his arms crossed, face flushed bright red. Scott was red from laughter, standing next to him with a huge smile on his face. Stiles shook his head, chuckling with us.

“Oh my god, Stilinski, you actually might be crazy.” I said, wiping the tears of laughter from my eyes.

“All that and she didn’t say yes?” Allison asked, slowly trying to stop laughing.

“Right? I was a catch!” Stiles said, flailing his hands and looking relieved someone had agreed with him. Isaac brought over chips for everyone, sitting on the ground next to me.

“No, I would’ve said no too.” Allison said, laughing again. Stiles pursed his lips, pretending to look mad but eventually bursting out into laughter.

“No, yeah, it was terrible.” He agreed.

Our laughter eventually died down, engaging in conversation between the entire group. Sodas and chips were shared late into the night.

“Okay, guys, it’s late and junior year starts tomorrow. We’re gonna feel like shit.” Lydia said, earning gasps from around the group. She rolled her eyes at the dramatic reaction, smiling as she pulled the blanket over her.

The lights turned off as everyone said their goodnights, Scott taking one couch and Stiles taking the other. Lydia was on a loveseat, Allison on a blow-up mattress. There was one mattress left, and I argued with Isaac that he could have it. I lost, pulling the blanket over myself on the mattress. Isaac did the same, sleeping right next to me on the floor.

An hour or so passed as I turned once again on the mattress, not being able to sleep. I turned to see Isaac, awake and already looking at me. We looked at each other in the darkness, Isaac flashing his werewolf eyes at me. I giggled, trying to keep quiet.

“Get over here.” I said to him, opening the blanket. He crawled over, jumping onto the mattress with an ‘oof.’ I slapped him playfully, both of us laughing as I told him to shut up.

Things had been different between us since that day in the forest. We’d grown closer, not being so snappy at each other. I got butterflies every time I was around him.

We stared at each other, inches away from each other. His hand traced the features of my face as I watched him. Watched the way he looked at me, as if I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“I almost don’t want to go to sleep, I’ll miss you too much.” Isaac whispered to me as his finger stayed on my lips.

“You’re so cheesy.” I said, earning a tap on my lips from him. He grinned at me, falling into an affectionate silence. My eyes started to close, drifting off into a sleep.

“It’s just until tomorrow.” I whispered slowly, dozing off.

“Until tomorrow.” I heard him whisper.

I chased the dream of junior year, of what it would bring. I was supposed to be nervous, going into the third year of high school. But I wasn’t. I’d be going in with my friends. With my family. And after all we’ve been through, what’s one more year?

#isaac lahey #isaac lahey x you #isaac lahey fanfiction #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf angst #isaac lahey angst #isaac lahey fluff #isaac lahey one shot

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heliads · 3 years ago

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I Need a Savior

Based on this request: "A songfic for My Demons by Starset? Stiles and the reader are twins. She’s a witch and part of Scott’s pack. The reader helps Scott and the others get rid of the nogitsune and save Stiles."

masterlist

There’s a video playing on your computer. You’re sitting before it, knees tucked up to your chest like you’re a child right now instead of watching yourself as one on the screen in front of you. Your eyes are glued to the two playing figures as if they’ll find some way to save you from the mess you’ve found yourself in, as if by watching what you used to have you’ll be able to have it all back once more.

You’re not alone in the video. The four-year-old Y/N rarely was, and in this particular video her laugh is joined by someone else- your twin brother, Stiles. He’s racing after you in a grassy backyard, in the midst of some no doubt momentous game of tag. He’s shouting something at the top of his tiny lungs as he goes, something about how he’ll always get back to you in the end. If only you could make that same promise now.

The video ends, but you still sit there, unable to move. It’s barely been a few days that your brother was fully possessed by the Nogitsune, but the loss still cuts at you like a knife. Stiles is your twin brother, older only by ten minutes or so. You’ve never had to go without him for longer than a few hours- he’s always there, at home or at school or at your father’s station. This, knowing that he’s somewhere within Beacon Hills but utterly gone to you, is an entirely different kind of pain.

A knock sounds at the door, and you look up to see your father hovering in the doorframe. His attempt at a reassuring smile drops as he sees the video still up on your screen. “I thought I heard voices.” You sigh. “I miss him, Dad. I miss Stiles.” Sheriff Stilinski sighs, walking inside the room at last. “So do I. We’re going to get him back, though. Don’t worry about that.”

You throw your hands in the air, frustrated. “We don’t know that! We don’t know that at all. This is so out of our range that it’s almost crazy. I mean, you barely even started to believe us about the supernatural. You didn’t trust us that werewolves existed, and now my brother has been possessed by a spirit that’s thousands of years old. None of us have any proof that we’re going to get him back.”

Your father winces for a second, then his expression smooths over again. “I’ve heard what you said about all your other exploits with Scott. He never gave up on anything or anyone, and I know you won’t either. None of us are giving up on Stiles, and even if it means that we have to play the long game to get him back, we will. Sure, I may not completely get why Scott McCall went from a kid with terrible asthma to a werewolf, but I know we won’t leave my son behind.”

His voice twists slightly as he says ‘my son’, and you’re hit with the distinct memory that you’re not the only one grieving someone you might have already lost. Yes, you lost your twin brother, but the sheriff lost his son. You can’t snap on him completely. So, you close your laptop screen, forcing the image of you and Stiles away into the darkness, and stand up. “What do you say we get some dinner? It’s late and I’m hungry.” Sheriff Stilinski nods, accepting this best attempt at an apology, and heads back downstairs. You’re left in the dark again, alone.

You can’t help but think through the whole thing over again. Your dad’s right- there’s no way Scott or you or anyone else is remotely considering letting Stiles go. You’ve seen Scott before, and you’ve known him for almost as long as he’s known your brother, so you know for a fact that he won’t give up until your twin is back and as he should be.

Besides, you’ve got another tool in your kit that will help you rescue Stiles- namely, your magic. You are a witch, just like the women in your family before you. Well, just like most of them. Your mother, Claudia, should have inherited the power of the family coven, but the magic seemed to skip over a generation and it went to you instead. Your grandmother kept the power of the witches a secret until it manifested in you a few years ago. You’ve learned spells from her, and you’re hoping that you’ll be able to use at least one of them to save Stiles.

This, actually, is what you find yourself doing the next day. Scott calls you up early, saying something in a rushed tone about how he found an old story about a healing spell in some dusty text in Deaton’s storage. You head over there immediately, and are surprised to find that Scott’s spell just might work. It’s fairly simple, as spells go, but it’ll take a lot out of you. In the spell, you’ll be able to peel back the Nogitsune’s control over Stiles, but you’re not sure that you’ll be able to completely eradicate the spirit’s presence from your brother’s mind, you don’t have enough power for that. Then again, even a brief reprieve for Stiles may help you save him.

So, you, Scott, Lydia, Allison, Isaac, Kira, and the rest head down to where Stiles was last spotted. Derek’s waiting for you there, and he points wordlessly into the Beacon Hills preserve. “I think the Nogitsune is trying to find the Nemeton. He just went in there a few minutes ago.” You nod your gratitude, already slipping between the trees. You used to play in these very woods with your brother when you were small, doing your best to escape your father’s watch long enough to have some fun before the rules came crashing back down around you.

When you see Stiles at once, you almost wonder if you’ve stepped back into your memories. It makes no sense- surely, you should be able to tell that this is an ancient spirit and not your brother. You should know your twin by soul and heart and word, shouldn’t you? Yet, for that one moment, you want to run over to him, sure that Stiles has managed to shake the spirit possessing him and come back to you.

Then Stiles turns around, and you’re hit by a wave of utter wrongness. There’s no other way to describe it- this being is your brother in flesh, sure, but in nothing else. There is no soul in the eyes looking at you, no love or even familiarity in the gruesome smile twisting this thing’s lips. The body is your twin brother, but the mind, oh the mind is so far from being him that it’s almost repulsive.

The Not-Stiles leers at you from where he stands amongst the trees, taking a few steps towards you as if relishing your horror. “Ah. I see my sister has come to visit me.” You shake your head. “I’m not your sister. You’re not him.” The Nogitsune shrugs. “Well, I see I can’t fool you like the others. Unfortunate.” Scott and the others have reached you by now, and your old friend hands you a scanned copy of the spells. You take it wordlessly, although you notice that the Nogitsune’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly at the transferral of the document.

Seconds later, its voice rings out across the forest again, and you swear you can detect an almost nonexistentant strand of nervousness in the spirit’s voice. It’s as if it’s woven trepidation in with the usual array of emotions as it toys with Stiles’ vocal chords. “What’s that about?” You ignore it, beginning to read the spell. You can only hope that it will work, that it will clear the Nogitsune from Stiles’ mind long enough to speak with him.

You finish reading out the spell and stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. At first, it looks as if the spell hasn’t done anything at all, and then the boy in front of you that was previously not your brother spasms slightly, bending over at the waist. When he straightens, you know at once that Stiles is back. You run to him, unable to keep a slight sob from tearing its way out of your throat. “Stiles!”

He catches you in his arms. Stiles feels the same way he always has- your brother is well and truly back. He stammers at first, hand rising to his temples as if he can’t believe that he’s back in control once more. “Y/N- it’s me. I’m me.” You muffle another sob. “How are you? Are you okay?” A dark look crosses Stiles’ face now, so mute in its agony that you almost think the Nogitsune has come back to possess him once more.

“It’s bad, Y/N. It’s really bad. I keep trying to fight, but it’s like I’m going insane. Even now, I can feel it circling around me like a vulture.” He grabs at your hands now. “I need you to save me, Y/N. I’m becoming it.” You try to speak, but you can’t find the strength. Already, the power necessary to cast the spell is wearing at you; you’ll only be able to keep it up for so long.

Stiles seems able to sense this, and his voice takes on an additional note of urgency. “I need you to make everything okay again, Y/N. I can’t fight this forever.” You shake your head slightly, afraid to let him down yet knowing that you can’t do much more. “I’m not all-powerful, Stiles. I wish I was.” Something like a broken half-smile flits onto his face. “You’ve always been able to take my pain away, Y/N. Not like Scott, but because of you. We are one and the same, are we not? We’re twins. I know you can do this.”

The spell is clawing at you now, practically tearing you into pieces. You manage to fight it back. You can’t let him go yet- you just got Stiles back. “What can we do? How do I get you back?” Stiles looks panicked, as if he can physically feel the Nogitsune forcing its way back into his head once more. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I just need you, Y/N. Save me if I become this demon.”

Then you’re stumbling, lost in an intense thicket of pain. The spell is overwhelming you now, and through tears you release it, letting your thin veneer of control go once more. Scott and the others catch you before you fall, but you’re not paying attention to yourself anymore. No, you’re looking back at your brother, or the body of a boy that was once your brother. The Nogitsune is back, and all traces of Stiles can only be seen in his physical form once more. You feel like sobbing, like breaking down entirely, but you remember what Stiles asked you to do. You have to save him, and that is exactly what you intend on doing.

In the end, you do save him, along with Scott and the others. You barely have time to mourn Allison’s death before you’re plunged into yet another peril, this time to take the Nogitsune down for good. You end up separating from the pack as they go into battle, choosing instead to maintain protective spells around the area that will keep the Oni and other aspects of the Nogitsune from killing your friends. The cost of maintaining all of that magic is wearing on you, but you stand firm. When Scott calls out to you, asking you to give him one last ounce of strength or courage or anything, you do it. Anything to save your brother.

They come out of the school in the end. Walking with them is a dark-haired boy who’s been your friend since birth, someone who was there to take his first steps with you and make you laugh when no one else could. For a second, you draw back, terrified that after all of this the Nogitsune might still be lurking under some crevice of Stiles’ mind, ready to draw him back under again, but when your brother looks at you, you breathe a deep sigh of relief. It’s him. It really and truly is.

Before you can run to him, though, Scott is offering you a small container. “We trapped the Nogitsune inside it, but it could escape at any moment. Can you secure it?” You nod, the spell to contain the evil spirit already running through your head. A second earlier, you would swear that you didn’t have enough energy to levitate a feather, let alone trap a thousand-year-old spirit, but you’re not about to let any chance of harm come to your twin again.

When you finish the spell, you see Stiles straighten up beside you, as if one last chain binding him to the earth has been released, one final shackle broken. You carefully hand the now-bound contained to Scott, and wrap your arms around Stiles. He holds you tight for a second, then steps away, holding you at arm’s length as if he’s almost forgotten what you look like. “Thank you for helping me. Scott told me that you’ve been using your magic to save us.”

Scott nods fervently. “I don’t know that we could have done it without her. Her spells saved our asses several times over.” You can’t help but grin shakily at that. “I needed to get you back. Anything else didn’t really matter.” Stiles hugs you one last time. “Thank you, anyway.” You smile back at him. “Of course, we’re family. You’re my twin, I would do anything for you. Besides, you asked me to save you and so I did. We don’t have to be our demons anymore.”

teen wolf tag list: my savior @underc0vercryptid

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski oneshot #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf oneshot #stiles #stiles imagines #stiles x reader #stiles oneshot #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf stiles imagines #teen wolf stiles x reader #teen wolf stiles oneshot

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waynedunlaptheorgandonor · 3 years ago

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watched s11ep1

i will provide you with a quick review before i disappear back into the ether of twd avoidance

lots of spoilers under the cut. also i wrote way too much and i worked all night and haven’t slept so i didn’t bother to reread literally any of it, so it might be completely nonsensical, tho if you don’t expect that from me by this point idk whose blog you’ve been reading

enjoy:

hokay, first off, i’ll start by saying that i enjoyed it more than i expected to. i’ve been avoiding any sort of discussion about stuff, but my google algorithm is so fucked at this point that i still get recommended articles and stuff every now and then, so i was already pretty aware of what i was walking into, and was expecting it to be eh, but actually i prob enjoyed it more than i enjoyed the finale

(don’t get too excited tho, the finale was rly boring lmfao)

anyway

episode starts off with a tense scouting mission

it takes .005 seconds into the episode for caryl to exchange a look of longing, establishing that they are still having weird conflict and are both too fucking stubborn to do anything about it even tho they hate it desperately

i imagine that will continue for a while

rosita, kelly, carol, maggie, what’s her face with the bad hair, and lydia (i think that’s everyone?) lower down to some army bunker or something, where a bunch of walkers are taking a snooze, and the girls are very respectful of walker naptime, and do their best not to wake them up

obviously they eventually wake up, but i’ll get to that in a sec

as they’re tiptoeing through the walker tulips, there’s this split second where carol spots a machine gun, and looks at maggie with a face like, “can i plzzzz, i am mad horny for that machine gun,” but maggie tells her no. (i 110% expected her to defy orders and accidentally wake up all the walkers, but she actually behaved herself for once. well. mostly)

never fear, tho, after the girl gang collects a bunch of MREs they go back to wait for the dudes waiting up top to pull them up, and bc men ruin everything, one of the ropes break, and daryl catches it before it falls, but then a slow motion drop of blood falls on a walker’s face, and just like that, walker naptime is over, and carol uses her bow and arrow for two seconds before she is like “fuck this” and whips out the machine gun

yes, she is super hot using it

yes, daryl watches her do it

anyway, all the other girls get rescued, and carol is about to be pulled up, but bc she is a #girlboss, she first makes a beeline for one more crate full of MREs. daryl covers her while she gets the loot, and when she gets back up top they have another charged moment as carol hands him back his knife

just fuck already, jfc

titles!

cut to alexandria where everything is still not smilestimes

BUT, we do get to see uncle daryl run and hug rj and judith (and dog), and FUCKING HERSHEL JR, LIGHT OF MY LIFE is also there

istg, they could not have casted a better child, i a d o r e him

oh, and some friends of maggie’s show up too, idk

cut to a staff meeting where everyone is like, whomp whomp, we’re all gonna starve to death unless we figure out something quick

cue maggie going, “oh, i know where food is, but it requires me to tell you my tragic backstory, in case anyone didn’t watch my bottle episode”

she tells her dramatic backstory about all her friends getting slaughtered by the reapers for no apparent reason, and then she’s like “anyway, let’s go back there!”

no one thinks it’s a great idea, but a group of people decide to go anyway, including daryl and gabriel. rosita is super pissed that gabriel is going, and carol doesn’t go, probably partly bc it’s a shitty fucking idea, and also bc they have to keep caryl apart bc otherwise they’ll fix their problems ahead of schedule and they won’t be able to drag out the needless angst

daryl looks kind of annoyed that carol doesn’t volunteer to go

bitch, i thought you wanted her to stop putting herself in the line of fire! make up your damn mind!

moving on

cut to a thunderstorm, where, if you look closely, you’ll notice daryl is wearing the STUPIDEST hat i’ve ever seen. just get an umbrella, jfc

for some reason negan is with them, bc ig he knows his way around washington dc, and no one in six years has bothered to figure out how to get around the city and/or get a map, and he is like “hey guys, maybe we shouldn’t try to walk in this fucking hurricane,” and everyone is like “FUCK YOU NEGAN, YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF US!!!”

this will be a common occurrence

but eventually daryl is even like “actually, it’s rly unpleasant out here, and my hat is mad stupid, can we go inside plz?”

so they go inside an old metro station, which is actually a rly cool cinematic choice. i rly like the idea, and they executed it rly well

speaking of executions

there are some fucking RULL CREEPY walkers. idk why they bothered me so badly, but they were what they at first assumed were corpses wrapped up in tarps, but turns out none of them had been properly put down, so they go through killing these rotted bodies that had supposedly been there since The Fall, and it’s very gross and cool

this entire time, btw, negan is like “hey, i know i’m a shitty person, but i have some rational arguments about why we shouldn’t be doing this right now,” and everyone is like, “FUCK YOU NEGAN, YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF US!!!” and he’s just like “god fucking damnit”

(i forgot to mention that at one point, when they’re headed into the metro station, negan is trying to warn ppl of the potential danger, and everyone is ignoring him, and he tries to talk to daryl, and daryl is like “fuck you, you think we’re BUDDIES?” and negan is like “oh, ok, so you’re gonna be like that too? fanfreakingtastic” and it’s very funny)

anyway. a fat monster zombie escapes its tarp at one point, and tries to eat some npc, and negan saves him, again is like “hey, anyone else realize that this is a FUCKING BAD PLAN?”, and everyone is like “we don’t care, you’re still shitty and we’re not listening to you, and you don’t actually care about random npc i would literally not be able to pick out in a lineup bc his face is so generic, you’re not the boss of us!!!”

it’s at this point that negan finally is like, “why am i even here? bc i know how to get around washington dc? do none of you have a map?” and i was like, “right?! that’s what i said!”

it’s then revealed that maggie only brought negan along to murder him under the guise of “oops, he got hurt in the line of duty, it wasn’t my fault,” and daryl has this look on his face that says, “i seriously need to stop hanging out with lethal women bent on revenge bc it’s gonna give me high blood pressure,” and maggie has a badass moment where she points a gun she has for some reason at negan and is like “i have like, one shred of human compassion left inside of me, and if you keep pushing me i will fucking kill you without a second thought, so shut the hell up”

(in her defense, negan had just dropped glenn’s name to purposely antagonize her, which was rude as hell)

(for the record, i’m completely on maggie’s side here, but negan still is right that trapping themselves in a metro station is a bad call)

anyway, moving away from that briefly

i think this jump cut happens sooner, i don’t actually remember, but whatever who cares, point is, we get to the part of the show that actually matters, and that’s anything involving my love, juanita “princess” sanchez

and also eugene, yumiko, and ezekiel

they are being asked increasingly invasive questions by commonwealth ppl, some of which i wish they actually would of answered (what do they use to wipe their asses with?? surely toilet paper has long since become extinct)

zeke, who is so much more tolerable as a character now that he’s not larping as a king, has this incredibly weird and sort of sexually charged moment with a dude in an orange stormtrooper costume, where he’s like, “i bet you were an asshole cop back before The Fall, you stupid fascist, #fuckthepolice, mb literally? idk, this moment has a lot of pent up aggression that could easily translate to hate sex, it might just be the intense eye contact, but w/e, let’s just move along,” and then he has a coughing fit to remind the audience that he’s currently dying of cancer, and orange stormtrooper is like “lolz, loser, drink some water you dumb piece of shit”

cut to the wholesome foursome sitting at a picnic table in a guarded courtyard eating gruel, and yumkio, who finally has a personality, and princess are like “hey, this place fucking sucks, can we leave?” and zeke is like, “yeah, i met this orange stormtrooper who i think might be dtf and/or murder, so we should probably bounce”

but eugene is like, “but i want some hot stephanie ass, and also some bullshit excuse about how mb commonewealth will save alexandria” which, they left before things went super downhill, right? idr. it was after hilltop fell, but they don’t know alexandria got fucked either, if i recall? w/e, not important

two seconds after he says this, they talk to some people who are like “we’ve been here for four months, or maybe it’s been nine, i don’t actually remember, i’ve stopped processing the passage of time,” and the wholesome foursome takes this as a bad sign, tho that’s just the life i’ve lived as a night worker during a pandemic, so i was like #mood

but then they watch some guy get dragged away screaming to get “reprocessed” and eugene is like “ok, nvm, let’s bounce”

(my theory on what “reprocessing” is, is that they’re stuck in a room and have to watch hours and hours of customer service training videos on vhs from the 90s)

i definitely got my jump cut scenes mixed up bc i think the negan accusing maggie of a murder plot thing happened in between this scene and then the next commonwealth scene, but w/e, i’ll just finish what happens in the commonwealth arch

the wholesome foursome are trying to hatch a plan to escape, except princess, my love, is distracted watching some stormtroopers flirt, and the other three are like “wtf, dude, how can you even tell any of them apart?” and princess then tells them every stormtroopers backstory bc she is brilliant and pays rly close attention to shit, and the other three are like, “this is useful information, thank you for being an insane person”

their plan involves yumiko and eugene dressing up as stormtroopers and leading princess and zeke out of the place, which works fine actually, except on their way out they come across the Depressing Wall of Probably Mostly Dead Missing Loved Ones

they’re about to leave, when princess is like, “wait, yumiko, you’re on here, that’s weird huh?”

sure enough, yumiko is on the wall, with a note from ig her sister

the scene ends with yumiko going, “guys...i can’t leave...i have tragic backstory to unveil”

tragic backstory to be continued ig

back in murder metro town, npc and some other npc have stolen all the supplies, there’s a train blocking the track, and a horde of walkers are coming towards them, so things are not going fantastic

they horde is too big to take down, so they start to climb on top of the train car to get away

but dog runs away!

and daryl, being every pet owner ever, is like “gotta go get my dog, guys, try not to get killed while i’m gone, c u soon!” and he ducks under the train and disappears

#priorities

the episode ends with maggie climbing up the train car but getting grabbed by a walker and dangling off the edge, and negan is there and they have a lion king moment where maggie is like, “scar! help me!” and negan is like “long live the king, bitch” and walks away into the shadows, leaving maggie to a potential death

which, while i know isn’t actually going to happen, would be a really fucking funny move on the writers’ part

like, “look, lauren’s back! and now she’s dead, bet you didn’t expect that!”

anyway

my assumption is negan will actually end up helping her up or something, continuing his ambiguous morality bullshit that actually isn’t ambiguous bc he BEAT GLENN TO DEATH WITH A FUCKING BAT WRAPPED IN BARBED WIRE IN FRONT OF HIS PREGNANT WIFE

the maggie/negan arch is kind of dumb, but whatevs, i’ll tolerate it, as long as my boy glenn gets justice in the end

anyway, cue credits!

final assessment: good episode. i’m much more interested in commonwealth than the reapers, tho i am hoping that daryl’s personality-less ex turns out to be a monster killing machine with no conscience, that’ll be fun. princess is a gift from god. hershel jr needs his own tv show. needs more carol (and caryl)

the end! going back into my walking dead free chamber! see you next episode!

-diz

#i didn't mean to recap the entire fucking episode lol #sorry #it's to make up for my lack of content lately #or something #anyway #caryl #twd s11ep1 #twd s11 spoilers #dunlap tp

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just-a-really-tall-girl-tbh · 3 years ago

Text

Waiting Room

Summary: Stiles is badly hurt, with only y/n to save him

Pairing: None in particular but sort of reader X Derek?

Warnings: Mentions of blood and fighting, also talk of hospital

Word count: 2188

Original piece please don’t copy :)

----------

Sitting in the hospital chair with your head in your hands you focused on your breathing.

Out

Flashes of claws plagued your vision, swiping before you.

Out

You scrunched your eyes hearing the piercing sound of your own scream, the eerie sound playing back in your mind, filling your head.

Out

You sat up leaning back against the plastic chair, rubbing your face up and down trying to regain some perspective. You stood up, unable to sit in those horrid chairs any longer and also wanting to be moving, anything to distract yourself.

Pacing back and forth in the hallway you consistently looked up at the closed doors in front of you.

‘SURGERY – Authorised personal only beyond this point’

The door stood still, you begged for it to open, for someone to come and tell you, they were okay, that they would survive. You needed something, anything to hold on to. Even false hope was still hope right?

Shaking your head, you sat back once again on the hospital chair.

***

“Y/N RUN” Stiles screamed.

You barely had a chance to face the boy before you were knocked to the ground, the cold floor welcoming your body. Whatever it was that knocked you was now headed towards stiles. You blinked a few times, trying to stop the world from spinning around you. You pulled yourself up against the lockers that lined the boys changing room. Wincing as you touched your forehead, your fingers instantly becoming coated in blood. You looked up and saw Stiles slowly backing away from a large figure, his arms up in defence. You could see his mouth moving, but the ringing in your ears prevented you from hearing Stiles’ pleas.

Eventually Stiles had retreated as far as the room would allow, feeling his back against the wall, his hands searched either side of him, a failed attempt at finding something to defend himself with.

The assailant’s hand was raised, his claws gleaming in the poorly lit locker room, and in one swift motion he had sliced Stiles’ stomach.

You screamed as his body slumped against the wall, the attacker simply left the room, disinterested in continuing the fight he thought was futile. Stiles’ torso began turning ruby red, the blood coating his middle in moments.

Scrambling to your feet you ran to him.

“Stiles? Hey, it’s okay I’m here I’m here” the words came out weaker than you intended. He looked up at you, his hands covering his stomach, a useless attempt at stopping the bleeding. You looked around the room, you needed to stop the bleeding. Grabbing a towel from a nearby bench you wrapped it and placed it on his abdomen, he grimaces at the sudden pressure.

“I’m sorry okay, I gotta stop the bleeding, just stay with me okay? Don’t you dare leave.” His slight head nod was all you needed to know he heard you.

“You gotta keep talking to me okay? I need another towel, and I’ll call an ambulance, or I’ll call Scott and we will get out of here okay?” You pleaded, trying to convince yourself it was going to be okay. You had seen injuries like this before and they always put pressure on the wound trying to stop the bleeding so that’s a good place to start. Your mind suddenly racing, scrambling to remember information they taught you in that stupid first aid course the school made everyone take. Logical and rational thinking was the only thing that would give Stiles a fighting chance. Placing Stiles’ hands over the now blood-soaked towel, you stood taking a deep breath, and began looking for more supplies.

“Talk to me Stiles, I need to hear you.”

“I don’t want to die at school.” He whispered.

“You’re not going to die; I won’t let you okay? Who else is going to tell me when I’m being dramatic or bring Scott and I into the woods at 1AM looking for a body? Who else is going to defend me even when I’m not there to defend myself? Who else is going to make me laugh when all I want to do is cry?” You finished your sentence as you kneeled next to Stiles, your arms filled with towels. Removing one you replaced it with two more, trying to stop the bleeding.

“You gotta tell my Dad, y/n”

“What? Tell your Dad what?” You were focused on his stomach, placing towel after towel anywhere you saw red.

“Tell him I love him okay?” Your breathing hitched in your throat and you looked up at the boy. His face was pale, more so than usual. His eyes lacked the spark that normally filled them.

“He knows Stiles. He knows.” Tears brimmed your eyes.

“You gotta tell him though okay? Promise me?”

“I promise, but you have to promise me something too.” He looked at you, unable to continue talking, allowing you to proceed. “You have to ask Lydia to the winter formal.”

His eyes widened, and mouth opened to object, no sound passed his lips.

“Come on Stiles, if- No- WHEN we get out of this, you have to do it.”

Stiles nodded as his eyes began to droop closed.

“No no no, you can’t Stiles come on.” You reached up to his face, your blood-soaked hands covering his cheeks with the liquid unintentionally. You shook his head and begged him to come back to you.

His breathing shallowed, only a whisper of air exchanging in his lungs.

The next few minutes were a blur. You had called an ambulance and then called Scott. Rode in the ambulance to the hospital and were told to wait outside while they wheeled Stiles into surgery. You stood at the entrance of the doors just staring, unable to move from your spot. Maybe if you didn’t move you would wake up from this horrible dream. Maybe if you didn’t move Stiles would walk out of there telling you it was all a mean joke. And so, you stood. Until a nurse came and asked about your head. You didn’t hear her the first few times she spoke to you, until she placed a hand on your shoulder, and you snapped out of your trance. Your face was wet from the tears you had no idea were even falling, too numb to feel anything other than helplessness.

The nurse walked you to a vacant bed, holding your arms and leading you away from the door you so desperately wanted to stand before. She cleaned your hands, the red painted sink yet another reminder of the events. She cleaned your wounds and stitched your forehead together before placing a bandage on your forehead. Her question didn’t register with you the first time, your eyes fixated on the wall ahead, the imagine of Stiles’ body permanently engraved in your mind.

“Sweetie?” You looked at the nurse. “Is there anyone I can call for you?” The sympathy evident in her eyes and tone of voice. Taking a few moments to answer you searched your mind for who you might want to call. Your parents were out of town on business, too busy with their jobs to worry about raising a child. Scott was already on his way, bringing Derek with him. The face of the sheriff came to the forefront of your mind. Feeling the guilt of having to tell him that his only son, his only child, was in a critical condition all because you wanted to sneak a copy of the test answers from Coaches desk, a fresh batch of tears lined your eyes.

“McCall.” You whispered. “Mellissa McCall.”

The nurse simply nodded and left the cubicle.

‘Mellissa McCall can you please report to emergency bay 3 please, Mellissa McCall to emergency bay 3’ the intercom speaker sounded through the hospital.

Moments later the privacy cloth dividing your bed from the emergency room was whipped open. Mellissa’s distraught face appeared behind it, she ran towards the bed, wrapping her arms around you and tightly holding as your body collapsed into hers.

“I tried Melissa, I tried but there was so much blood and it was everywhere-” you began

“Shhh it’s okay you did great okay?” she comforted.

“I can’t tell him. I can’t tell his Dad, I can’t.” You begged.

“Hey, we will do it together okay? I’m right here.” Melissa always had a way of soothing anyone. Maybe it was her motherly touch or the way her voice had a calming tone to it, but it always helped. Always. After a few minutes she pulled away, told you she was going to call the sheriff and ask him to come down, then she was going to go into the theatre to check on Stiles’ progress.

Leaving your cubicle, you sat on the chairs in front of the surgery. Your head hurt but it didn’t faze you. Losing your best friend was at the forefront of your mind and the thought of not having your cheeky sidekick beside you was too much to handle.

Quick footsteps sounded the halls and your heart raced. You weren’t ready to tell Sheriff Stilinski about his son. Looking up you were somewhat relieved to see Scott and Derek.

“Hey.” Scott said softly as you raised to your feet and were pulled into a tight hug. “Have you heard anything?” Shaking your head, you pulled away, not wanting to make eye contact with the werewolf Infront of you, too ashamed to see the distress on his face knowing you caused it.

Scott stepped back allowing Derek to hug you next. He didn’t let go when you tried to pull away after a few moments, knowing you needed to be held just a little longer. Sniffling, you pulled back, Derek allowing you to this time. His arms stayed wrapped around your waist, his hand comfortably placed on you hip.

Collectively everyone looked up at the sound of another person running towards you all. A worried sheriff Stilinski appeared at the end of the hall, sprinting towards you. Before he could ask where his boy was and what had happened, the surgery doors swung open, a gowned-up Melissa exiting the room. She removed her protective gear and took a deep breath. Derek pulled you closer, preparing for the news.

“He lost a lot of blood. Almost too much.” She looked towards the sheriff. “But that boy in there is as stubborn as anything. The doctors believe he will make it.” Everyone sighed in relief and Derek pulled you into his chest, closing his eyes in relief. You felt your knees go weak and let out a soft cry.

“Y/n, you saved him.” Melissa approached you. “If you weren’t with him, he wouldn’t be here.” You nodded into Derek’s chest, unwilling to separate knowing you would have to face your best friends Dad. Mellissa hugged Scott and then the sheriff, both thanking her for her help.

You felt a hand on your upper back, slowly pulling away from the safety of Derek’s chest you turned to face Noah. His eyes were soft, tears falling from them freely, he softly smiled before pulling you into his chest.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered.

“Hey it’s okay, he’s okay, we’re okay.” He replied.

“I didn’t mean it I swear we didn’t know we weren’t alone.”

“Y/n stop” He paused, separating the two of you, holding you at arms distance and tilting his head down. “We just need him to recover okay? That’s what you need to focus on.”

Simply nodding you were pulled back into the arms of the sheriff. Looking over his shoulder your eyes connected with Scott’s, his worried expression was replaced with one of anger. Eventually the Sheriff needed to sign some paperwork at the front desk, or maybe Melissa just sensed you guys needed a minute. Either way you were grateful for the opportunity to be able to explain the events to the boys.

“Well?” Scott looked at you expectantly. You sighed and looked at your feet.

“We wanted the answers to Tuesday’s test, neither of us had time to study so we figured we would find the answer key in coaches’ desk and borrow it.” Scott rolled his eyes and breathed out heavily, his mannerisms dripping with disapproval. Derek could only watch on as you continued to explain yourself. “When we got there, Stiles said he thought we weren’t alone, I thought he was just trying to scare me. We got to the boy’s locker room and were about to head into coaches’ office when Stiles yelled at me to run. Everything else is just a blur.” Finally looking up and meeting Scott’s eyeline you saw him deep in thought, the stress of the night’s events, evident in every inch of his face. “Scott?”

“I’m thinking.” He was short.

“There’s one more thing.” He looked towards you, ready to be annoyed with whatever you were about to say next. “Whatever attacked stiles, it had claws.” His eyes widened and looked towards Derek who looked like he had just made the same connection as Scott.

“There’s another werewolf in Beacon hills.”

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selfignitingimagines · 3 years ago

Text

Stiles- Gone (Obsessed Part 2)

TW: Stalking

A/N- As I said in my last post, I wrote Obsessed almost two years ago. I always wanted to finish the story, but I never got around to it and fell off from posting for a long time. I decided to split this next part into two, because it was getting pretty long. Part 3 should be out soon. Part 1 is linked here.

“Where is everyone?”

Your quiet whisper caused your brother and Stiles to glance over at you. They seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Lydia’s birthday party was the event of the year. Actually, all of her parties were popular enough that she usually had to turn someone away. Now, as you stared out at her deserted back patio, the opposite seemed to be true. No one had even shown up, save for a couple people who had disappeared into the house a few minutes ago.

The deck surrounding Lydia’s pool had been artfully decorated with string lights. Several tables nearby were stacked with snacks and drinks, and she had even ordered a silver fountain that contained some kind of bright pink punch.

It was a shame that the only people out there to appreciate the hard work were you, Stiles, and Scott. You knew Allison was coming because you had gotten ready at her house with Lydia, but you had left separately and she had yet to show up.

Suddenly the sliding glass door opened behind you, and Allison stepped out onto the patio. Her dark hair was done up in an intricate braid, similar to the one Lydia had threaded your own hair into. She smiled at you as she walked over, but it didn’t meet her eyes.

“Jackson’s not here,” she informed the three of you.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. “No one’s here.”

“Maybe it’s just early,” Scott suggested.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Or maybe nobody’s coming because Lydia’s turned into the town whackjob.”

“Well we have to do something,” Allison insisted. “Because we’ve completely ignored her for the past two weeks.”

“She’s completely ignored Stiles for the past ten years.”

“I prefer to think of it as me not being on her radar,” Stiles told Scott.

Scott sighed. “We don’t owe her a party.”

“What about the chance to get back to normal?” you asked. “I mean, she wouldn’t be the town whackjob if it wasn’t for us.”

Scott’s face softened. “I guess I could use my co-captain status to get the lacrosse team here.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. “Me and Y/n also know some people who can get this thing going. Like, really going.”

You grinned at him, knowing exactly what he was thinking, and Allison stared at the two of you in confusion. “Who?”

“We met them the other night,” you explained. “Let’s just say they know how to party.”

About half an hour later, Lydia’s house was filled to the brim with people. The entire lacrosse team arrived fashionably late, along with half the school. Even the drag queens you and Stiles met at Jungle had shown up.

As it turned out, no one cared if Lydia had run naked through the woods for several days. She still knew how to throw one hell of a party.

You were currently helping her hand out drinks near the back door as people continued to flow in. Stiles watched you longingly from across the pool. He thought you were beautiful all the time, but with your hair done up and the party lights shining down on you, he felt the undeniable urge to walk over and kiss you.

“What are you looking at?” Scott asked, following his gaze over to you.

“Uh, n-nothing,” Stiles sputtered. “Are you going to apologize to Allison?”

Scott frowned. “Why should I apologize?”

“Because you’re the guy,” Stiles reminded him. “It’s, like, what we do.”

“But I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then you should definitely apologize. See, anytime a dude thinks he hasn’t done anything wrong, it means he’s definitely done something wrong.”

“I’m not apologizing.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Is that the full moon talking, buddy?”

“Probably,” Scott grumbled. “Why do you care anyway?”

Stiles threw up his hands in exasperation. “Because, Scott, something’s gotta go right here! I mean, we’re getting our asses royally kicked here, if you haven’t noticed. People are dying, I got my dad fired, you’re gonna be held back in school, I’m in love with your sister-”

Stiles suddenly let out a choking sound, realizing what he had just said. Scott stared at him with raised eyebrows, and then he let out a soft laugh. “I know, dude.”

“You...you do?”

Scott was looking at Stiles like he was stupid. “It’s pretty obvious. Plus, I heard you talking together in her room last night. You do remember I have super hearing, right?”

Stiles scratched the back of his neck. “Oh...right. Why didn’t you call us out on it?”

Scott shrugged. “I could tell something was wrong. I’m just glad she has you to talk to about it.”

Stiles nodded. “Everything’s so crazy right now. I don’t even know how we’d make it work, but if I don’t get the chance to find out, I’m going to stab myself in the face.”

“Don’t stab yourself in the face,” Scott said suddenly.

“Why not?”

“Because Jackson’s here,” Scott told him.

Stiles glanced over to the door. Sure enough, Jackson was walking into the party. Lydia smiled at him and placed a glass of punch in his hand.

“Glad you could make it,” she told him.

He simply nodded at her and walked over toward the pool, closer to Stiles and Scott. You watched as Lydia’s lips turned into an ugly frown, but she quickly plastered a smile back on her face.

“Maybe you should talk to him,” you suggested quietly.

Lydia let out a short laugh. “Please. He’s going to come talk to me by the end of the night. I refuse to chase after him...but I know he’ll probably be chasing after me later.”

You nervously glanced over at Jackson. If he was here, the person controlling him probably was too. Lydia had no idea how right she was.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that this party was going to end in disaster. The last thing you and the boys wanted was another dead body, but that seemed inevitable at this point.

“I’m going to bring some punch to Scott,” Lydia told you, scooping another cup off the clothed table. “I wanna figure out what’s going on with him and Allison.”

You nodded, and as she walked away, you saw the back door open once more. You put down the glass of punch you had been sipping on. It was almost finished anyway, and you had to take over giving them out now that Lydia was gone.

That was when you realized the figure walking through the door was Matt. You froze when his eyes landed on you. He stepped closer, and you wanted to turn away, but you were rooted to the spot.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

He looked sheepish, and you felt a twinge of sympathy. Matt didn’t look threatening. He had his hands nervously stuffed into his pockets, and he was rocking back on his heels.

Besides, you were in a house full of people. What could he possibly do to you?

You nodded, and walked into the house, gesturing for him to follow. “You get two minutes.”

You headed toward one of Lydia’s spare bedrooms in the packed hallway, weaving through the crowded house. When you stepped into the room, Matt reached out to close the doors. When he saw you eyeing him, he stopped.

“Right,” he muttered, propping the door back open. “So I know I took some pictures of you that I probably should have told you about...but is it really bad that I think you’re beautiful? And that I think you should be the subject of a perfect photograph?”

“Matt...I don’t even know how you got some of those pictures.”

“ A telephoto lens,” he informed you. “I mean, come on, Y/n. Photographers call them candids.”

“Well Stiles’ dad would call it stalking.”

Matt scoffed. “Stalking? So I’m a stalker now, is that it? You think my bedroom is wallpapered with your photos? You think I’m the type of guy that’s gonna say something like ‘If I can’t have her, no one can.’?”

A flash of bright red hair caught your attention as you looked past Matt. Lydia was weaving through the halls, pulling Stiles behind her as he grasped one of her hands. You felt your stomach flip.

You looked back to Matt, who was still talking. “Well you know what? Get over yourself, because there’s another pretty girl walking through the room every five minutes.”

You held up your hands. “Well then all you have to do is wait another three.”

“Y/n, wait!”

You strode past him, but he grabbed your arm, yanking you back to face him. The hair on the back of your neck stood up when you met Matt’s eyes. They were cold and angry, and they didn’t leave your face once.

Suddenly, he let you go. “Hey, I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You must think I’m such a freak.”

He was back to being sheepish, self-deprecating Matt, but you weren’t sticking around to fall for the act any longer. You had to find Stiles and tell him what happened. The first chance you got, you were going to take his advice and go to the police.

You rushed out of the spare room and headed in the direction of Lydia and Stiles. They had disappeared down a deserted hall, and when you turned down it, you saw the two of them tucked into a corner.

Lydia had her hands resting on Stiles’ chest. He was leaning down and kissing her as his hands tangled in her strawberry blonde curls. You swallowed, and started to back up, but then he looked up at you.

His lips curled into a cruel smirk, and Lydia glanced over her shoulder at you.

“What?” he asked with a sharp laugh. “You actually thought I’d choose you instead of Lydia?”

Your throat went dry. You wanted to say something, to tell him that you thought he had cared about you the other night, but you couldn’t speak.

“Come on, Y/n,” Lydia chimed in. “You really think you could compete with me?”

“You’re Scott’s little sister,” Stiles continued. “Your little crush was never going to turn into anything.”

Stiles turned back to Lydia, and the two of them began to make out again. You stumbled back, bumping right into someone else.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” A blonde girl in a tube top snapped.

You blinked, suddenly realizing that there were other people flowing through the hallway. When you looked back into the corner Stiles and Lydia had been in, it was empty, as if they had never been there at all.

You shook your head, trying to shake off what you had just seen. It wasn’t real, but it definitely felt like it. You stumbled back toward the pool, wanting to find the others. You had only had one full cup of that punch, but there was definitely something wrong with it.

You had only been drunk a few times before, but you had never hallucinated an entire conversation with two people. This had to be something else.

You tried to make your way back toward the living room, but you only made it as far as the kitchen. Lydia’s house seemed to blur before your eyes, and you realized that the punch had hit you harder than you thought.

You leaned back against the counter, but you ended up slowly sinking down to sit on the kitchen floor, too dizzy to stand up. You were probably only sitting there for a few minutes, but it felt like hours until you heard a familiar voice say your name.

“Y/n?”

It was Lydia. She was kneeling in front of you, clearly concerned. You felt a twinge of jealousy as you thought back to that scene in the hallway. You wanted to tell her to leave you alone, but you knew you had no real reason to be mad at her. Lydia didn’t actually have feelings for Stiles.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “Should I get Scott?” “No,” you said quickly. “He’ll be upset at me. What did you put in that punch?”

Lydia’s lips quirked up. “It’s a secret recipe. You should really be more careful, Y/n.”

“Is she okay?” you heard someone else ask.

You glanced up, but the other figure blurred as your head began to spin.

“I think I can handle this on my own, Jackson.”

“Do you want me to get her a bottle of water?”

“Uh, yeah, that would be great.”

A couple minutes later, a blurry hand was holding a water bottle in your face.

“Can you stay with her for a second? I actually have something I need to take care of.”

He must have said yes, because Jackson sat down next to you and opened the bottle. “You need to drink as much of this as you can.”

You eyed him carefully, and even in your drunken state, you managed to be suspicious.

“What?” he asked. “I can’t do something nice?”

You were silent, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine. Have a killer hangover in the morning. See if I care.”

The more you thought about it though, the more you realized Scott would be disappointed if you couldn’t sober up. So you took the bottle from Jackson’s hand and began to drink.

You didn’t know how long you were sitting there, but Lydia never came back, and Jackson eventually got up and left. Even after drinking the water, you felt terrible. In fact, you might have even felt worse.

The room was blurring around you, and you were getting sleepier by the second. When a pair of legs came into your view and stopped, you weren’t even concerned that you didn’t recognize them. You didn’t protest as arms came around your waist to steady you and pull you to your feet.

You felt something wet soaking into your dress, and you flinched away.

“It’s just water. I fell in the pool.”

“Stiles?” you mumbled, as you were led out of Lydia’s house.

“It’s okay,” a voice was telling you, but you were too out of it to realize who was talking. “We’re going to the jeep.”

Your head lolled onto the figure’s wet sleeve, and you caught sight of the stars, blurring above your head in the night sky.

“It’s pretty,” you mumbled.

“It is,” the voice agreed.

Stiles laid you in the passenger seat. He clicked the seatbelt across your chest and shut the doors. You ran your fingers along the seat and the door, feeling the smooth leather interior.

“This isn’t the jeep,” you realized sleepily.

The car was too sleek. It was too nice to be Stiles’.

“It’s okay, we’re just going home.”

Steady fingers tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. You felt sicker by the second, and it wasn’t just because of the alcohol. “Where’s Stiles?”

When you heard the driver’s side door shut, you looked over to see who had rescued you. You felt your stomach drop.

“Matt,” you choked.

He looked over at you and smiled. You reached up, weakly fumbling with the door handle, but your fingers kept slipping. Everything was too blurry, and Matt wasn’t offering any help either.

“No,” you whispered. “Please let me out.”

He laughed softly and hushed you, reaching out to grab your hand. He squeezed your trembling fingers and smiled. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“No,” you kept mumbling, but as Matt started the car, you began to fade.

You watched as the streetlights passed through the window, blurring into gold and white blobs. With your eyes slowly drifting shut, you wondered where your brother was. How long would it take Scott and Stiles to realize you were gone? Would they be able to find you? And if they weren’t, what would Matt do to you?

-----

“The cops are here!”

All of Lydia’s guests scattered from around the pool. Scott grabbed Stiles by the arm and tugged him back from the panicking crowd.

“Where’s Matt?” he demanded. “Where did he go?”

They scanned the crowd, but Matt, along with Jackson, was gone.

“Wait, Scott, have you seen your sister?” Stiles asked.

“Not for a while.”

Stiles went pale. “We need to find her.”

“Why?” Scott demanded, grabbing Stiles’ shoulder before he could turn away. “What do you know that I don’t?” The horrified look in his friend’s eyes sent an uneasy chill through Scott. “Stiles?”

“Matt was watching her,” Stiles admitted. “She told me last night that he was taking pictures, stalking her. She saw them when he left his camera in the car. I wanted to tell you, but there wasn’t time…”

Scott felt the air leave his lungs. If Matt was controlling the Kanima and he got his hands on you, there was nothing you could do to protect yourself.

Together, he and Stiles searched through Lydia’s house, narrowly avoiding the cops outside. His attempts to catch a scent failed, and they had no idea where Matt would have taken you.

Allison had left a few minutes before the cops showed up with no explanation. Scott never got the chance to ask her about it, but he was willing to bet it had something to do with her family. His texts to her had gone unanswered, so he had to assume she hadn’t seen you.

Lydia was nowhere to be found either, but Scott was able to track her scent to the treeline at the edge of her property. It was strange, though she could have just been taking a walk to clear her head. You were his biggest priority right now, and neither he or Stiles could find any trace of you.

“We have to call the police,” Scott told him after they finished. “She’s gone.”

Stiles nodded, running a nervous hand through his hair. They were standing in Lydia’s driveway, gazing out into the dark neighborhood. The cops were long gone by now, but Stiles had a feeling they wouldn’t take your disappearance seriously. It was a party, you had been drinking, and everyone had scattered.

Stiles had grown up with most of the police officers at the station. He knew the way they thought. He knew how plausible it was for them to assume you were just laying low for a while, trying to avoid getting busted for underage drinking.

“No,” Stiles told Scott. “We have to call my dad.”

“Isn’t he still mad at you?”

“It doesn’t matter. If Matt’s willing to kill the people who piss him off, what do you think he’s gonna do to Y/n when she rejects him?”

Scott didn’t answer. All he could think about was the way Matt’s victims had been ripped apart by the Kanima. If he was really obsessed with you, maybe he wouldn’t hurt you, but they had no way of knowing for sure. They could only hope that you were clever enough to stay alive as they raced to find you.

#tw stalking #teen wolf #selfignitingimagines #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagines #Teen Wolf Ships #teen wolf imagines

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scoopsahoy · 4 years ago

Note

hi i saw that u reblogged the "type of kisses" thing and was wondering which ones you think stiles would like?

ぺ word count ⋰ 1.7k

✰ tw ⋰ none :)

❍ cw ⋰ mentions of violence + sex

✐ masterlist

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★

goodnight kisses — stiles would LOVE goodnight kisses. he would practically beg for them when you stayed over at each others’ houses. they’d be the last thing he’d want to remember before falling asleep.

hand kisses — BIG YES. before you two got together, this would be his sign of letting you know he wanted to be with you, and laying in bed he’d pull your hand up to his lips and just plant a soft one on the back of it.

smiling while kissing — this was something that you did more than him. mainly during your first kisses and when you began to get intimate. it was just a sweet thing you two shared.

lips barely touching — he hated these, mostly just because he wanted to kiss you more than most things, and he hated being teased. he almost always was the one to connect your lips when they were only a couple of inches away.

morning kisses — just like smiling while kissing, you were usually the giver of morning kisses. but only because he took forever to wake up, but he always appreciated your lips against his being the first thing he felt. he never objected to them, though.

slow kisses — he was a sucker for slow kisses. he liked to kiss you deeply and like there was meaning to it, and he didn’t think he could represent that with quick smooches.

passionate kisses — just like slow kisses, he always made them passionate. he just loves your lips.

kisses on the cheek — these are the only quick kisses he enjoyed. usually, it was your lips to his cheeks, but that was neither here nor there. that was the first place he kissed you, so it was nice to remember it. sometimes he would hug you from behind and plant one on your cheek as he hugged you.

first kisses — you and stiles’ first kiss was, as cheesy as it sounds, magical. you’d been together only a week, but you learned about the whole werewolf situation almost immediately. the night it happened was the night he, scott, and allison had to pretty much die to find their parents. and, since you hadn’t known each other long, lydia was his anchor. so, before it happened, you two stood outside the animal clinic. you were crying, terrified he wouldn’t come back. he pulled you into a kiss, which calmed your nerves a bit. “i’ll be okay,” he whispered, giving you a small smile. “i promise.”

goodbye kisses — stiles hated being away from you. you brought him comfort, and goodbye kisses were a way of having a piece of you with him at all times.

welcome home kisses — welcome home kisses weren’t just ‘welcome home’ kisses for the two of you. they were ‘i’m glad you’re okay’ kisses, ‘i missed you’ kisses, and ‘i love you’ kisses. although they were used to welcome each other home, too.

kisses on the corner of their mouth — he preferred kissing you directly on the lips, so these weren’t his favorite unless he was messing with you or on top of you.

frustrated kisses — there were a few of these exchanged, though they were rare. it was hard to kiss you when you were frustrated, as you usually weren’t in the mood. although, depending on what it was that was upsetting you, these kisses were usually good at helping you calm down.

kissing each other breathless — of course he loved these. they were usually indicative of a makeout session, or while the two of you were calming down after sex.

soothing kisses — in his opinion, every kiss with you was soothing. they usually came when the two of you were tired, and they were slow and soft.

nose kisses — he did these purely to mess with you and tease you, even though he hated when you did the same to him. although sometimes they were sweet and loving.

kisses as a promise — he preferred pinkie promises to seal a promise as opposed to a kiss, but they came out every once in a while, like when he did the ice bath.

short pecks — there weren’t too many of these from him, since he liked to really kiss you. but you loved them, as they were just a quick reminder of how much the two of you loved each other.

forehead kisses — you loooooooooved forehead kisses. they were your absolute favorite. you almost preferred them over on-the-lip kisses. almost. they were usually how he said goodnight or goodmorning, and it was just super cute and sweet.

kisses on head — he loved when you kissed him on the back of the head. when the two of you would be sitting in one of your beds with his back against your front, your arms wrapped around him from behind, you’d press your lips to his scalp, and it made him smile every time.

“we’ll face this together” kisses — he wasn’t much of a kisser when he was anxious, so you usually tried not to kiss him in these situations.

kisses in the rain — the two of you went to the beacon hills preserve one night to be alone, and just to look at the city. it began pouring out of nowhere, and you were drenched. your makeup was running down your cheeks and he told you how beautiful you were. you pulled him in for a kiss, running your fingers through his wet hair.

life-or-death kisses — again, he wasn’t much of a kisser in these situations.

kisses for a cover — i’m gonna be honest i have no idea what this means

hard kisses — during sex was really the only time Rough Stiles™ came out, but during intimate moments was when he would kiss you hard.

giggling while kissing — these were more common when you two first got together, and he would kiss you with such passion it surprised you that it could fit into one teenage boy.

desperate kisses — these were when the two of you were almost finished and just needed something to get you both there. you’d kiss him until you were both begging for it, and sometimes it helped speed up the process.

neck kisses — he preferred kissing you on the jaw, but you preferred kissing him on the neck. the few times you’d done it, you left hickeys behind to his dismay, although he quickly got over it.

hushed conversation in-between kisses — these happened most often during makeout sessions. you two would talk about your day, interrupted every few seconds by the sound of lips smacking against each other.

eyelid kisses — neither of you enjoyed this much, both of you afraid you’d accidentally lick each others’ eyeballs.

gentle stroking of cheeks — when i tell you your cheek was like a second home for his thumb... he loved doing this when you were kissing, when he was comforting you, and everything intimate.

small kisses — these tie into short pecks, which he wasn’t the biggest fan of.

kissing it better — the few times he’d been punched, you’d do this for him. even if it didn’t do anything, just the feeling of your soft lips against where he hurt the most made him feel better immediately. it was one-hundred-percent a placebo effect, but neither of you cared.

jaw kisses — this was his go-to location to kiss besides your lips. he was always eager to make you feel good, and when he hit the sweet spots on your jaw and neck, he knew he accomplished his goal.

wake-up kisses — these tie in with the morning kisses, and he always looked forward to them.

kissing away tears — after his panic attacks, you did this to calm him down. sometimes you’d be in the floor of the locker room, sometimes in one of your beds, sometimes in one of your cars. you’d mastered the ‘count my fingers’ and ‘read this text’ techniques of helping him breathe again, and afterwards he would just crawl into your arms, feeling you kiss his salty cheeks and hold your head close to your chest.

public kisses — the boy was eager to kiss you in public, almost bragging that he’d manage to find you. at school, at the store, outside, anywhere other people could see, he kissed you.

relieved kisses — the only really relieved kiss was once he woke up after being unconscious for sixteen hours in a bathtub full of ice water. you were afraid he’d freeze to death or just wouldn’t come back, and after you hugged him, you immediately pulled him in for a kiss, shivering at how cold he was.

kisses for comfort — aka every kiss.

tummy kisses — these also only came out during sex, and he loved leaving hickeys all down your body.

kisses to shut them up — sometimes when he would ramble about scott or derek and get increasingly more annoying, you’d just slam your lips against his and he’d forget everything he was saying.

slowly kissing down the body — one of his favorite things to do during sex, knowing it turned you on more with every single kiss.

“we’ll see each other again” kisses — the only time anything like this happened was before the ice bath, when he was trying his damndest to calm you down.

kissing each finger — he preferred the back of your hand to your fingers, as he felt it was more intimate.

sleepy kisses — these always came in the morning before school or in the middle of the night when he wouldn’t remember them the next morning.

angry kisses — stiles was only angry at you a handful of times, and he didn’t kiss you when he was.

feather-light kisses — these were never on your face lips, if you get what i’m saying

kisses with trembling lips — these would come after something big happened, like when y’all stayed at the motel glen capri and scott damn near committed suicide with a flare and all of you had to save the rest of the werewolves. that night it took a lot of time to calm him down and convince him everything was okay, and even after the few kisses you shared, you could tell he was still incredibly anxious.

secret kisses — sometimes he would kiss your forehead or cheek when you were asleep, laughing to himself when it woke you up.

kisses with their last dying breath — honestly, every kiss from him felt like it was his last dying breath.

#fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #imagine #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfic #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x reader fanfic #stiles stilinski x reader fanfiction #stiles stilinski x reader imagine #stiles stilinski x reader fluff #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fluff

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chicgeekgirl89 · 3 years ago

Text

Where Hope is Left So Incomplete

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Characters: Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Melissa McCall, Chris Argent, Noah Stilinski, McCall Pack

Rating: T

Summary: Derek has one hand on the wheel and with the other he’s calling the hospital, speaking fast, leaving out any details that might raise suspicion. A werewolf at the wheel is definitely faster than an ambulance, but it’s still taking far too long. Scott is literally holding his friend together, he can hear Stiles’ heartbeat growing weaker with every passing minute, and despite his best efforts there’s blood leaking everywhere. “Derek,” Scott says as they squeal around another curve, “Derek I think he’s dying.”

A/N: This fic takes place maybe a year or two after the events of "Wolves of War." It assumes Isaac returned at some point, Stiles never went back to the FBI, Derek stuck around, and the war against supernaturals continues. Title taken from "Running With the Wolves" by Aurora.

Read on AO3

It’s an ambush. Or an assassination, Scott’s not sure which. He lets out a roar, eyes blazing, fangs bared, as steel bites deeply into his flesh. Turning he catches a hunter directly in the chest with his claws and hurls him through the air. The gash stings, blood dripping down his arm, swirling through dirt and sweat and turning his skin into a macabre painting. At least the knife is free of wolfsbane, the familiar burn is missing from his wounds.

His head is throbbing, it feels like his brain is being squeezed by a vice and it’s messing with his ability to focus, to hear, to sense where everyone else is. They’ve got some kind of device, an upgrade of the ones the Argents used to use and damn is it working.

He rips one of the devices from the ground and hurls it against a tree feeling some satisfaction when it smashes into a thousand pieces against the trunk. It gives him enough relief to take a beat and assess their situation; Derek is thrashing another guy nearby, and from the sound of things, he’s winning. What’s become suspiciously absent are Stiles’ yells. Scanning the woods he can’t make out his friend’s gangly form anywhere. Hopefully that means Stiles has done the smart thing and tucked himself away somewhere that the hunters can’t find him.

Monroe’s lackeys don’t care that Stiles is human, they’re just as happy to take him out as any of the rest of the McCall pack and they’ve made that perfectly clear on more than one occasion. Scott tries not to think about the fact that Chris needed surgery on his back last month for an injury he’d received at the hands of a hunter. Or that they tried to take Lydia six months ago and were only stopped by Derek’s quick thinking.

They’re not supposed to be here. The pack has a perimeter and they’ve been diligent about not letting anyone through. It’s been over a year since anyone tried to attack them on their own soil. This is their turf, they’ve staked their claim. It’s a safe space, a haven, a promise of home and family and respite. At least it was. Until tonight.

Scott tries not to think about what it means that this group has gotten bold enough to sneak into the preserve in the dead of night. Tries not to think what would have happened if it were some of his younger charges who’d been caught unaware on patrol. As it is he and Derek are having a hard time holding them off.

His moment to plan is over as he’s assaulted again by a rather beefy hunter, one who is holding a knife so large it may as well be a sword. Scott lets out another roar, claws slashing mercilessly.

It’s then he hears a familiar yell and realizes that Stiles has not gone into hiding as directed, but has instead attempted to get the drop on the hunters. And of course he is armed with absolutely nothing but his trusty baseball bat, although given that he has the element of surprise, it’s working surprisingly well.

He drops two hunters in one, fell swoop and then looks up at Scott with a triumphant grin. “I knew this would come in handy someday!” he yells, raising the bat high.

Scott sends him a grin back. It’s a mistake, a horribly foolish mistake he realizes later. If he hadn’t been so caught up in the moment, if he hadn’t been so damn cocky about their ability to hold the line, what happened next wouldn’t have come to pass.

There’s a terrible, high pitched whine that has him clapping his hands over his ears in pain, and then the world explodes.

Scott feels his feet briefly leave the ground and then it comes rushing up to meet him again, knocking all the air from his lungs. He rolls onto his back, head spinning, as he tries to get a handle on himself.

Air slowly leaks back into his chest and he heaves a breath, pushing himself up onto his elbow. He can see Derek doing the same, several feet from him, shaking his own head as if he can’t quite remember what’s going on.

“You okay?” Scott chokes out.

“Yeah,” Derek says, though his face is bloody and Scott can see some shrapnel has torn through his shirt.

Scott is pretty sure he’s broken a few ribs himself, he can feel them grating in his chest as he continues to suck in air, but everything else seems to be intact. The hunters…not so much. There are several bodies parts lying around and considering his and Derek’s are still attached, it seems the hunters were felled by their own weapons. “What the hell was that?” he asks, attempting to get up.

“Some kind of bomb,” Derek says, getting to his own feet and scanning the area. “We need to get out of here.”

There’s a whimper, a pathetic, horrible, pained whimper and Scott comes fully back to himself because he knows, he knows without even looking who that agonized, awful sound is coming from. “Stiles!” he cries, spotting him sprawled and broken at the base of a large boulder.

He stumbles toward his friend, his own body perhaps more injured than he initially thought, and falls to his knees, eyes widening in shock and horror.

Stiles’ eyes are closed and his left leg lies at an awkward angle. Scott knows without even touching it that it’s broken, maybe in more than one place. But worse, so much worse, is the blood pouring out of Stiles’ abdomen. His shirt has gone dark with it and there’s already a puddle forming on the ground next to him.

“Stiles,” Scott whispers placing his hands over the wound, pressing down, trying with all his might to keep Stiles’ life from flowing out of him.

Stiles lets out a pained cry at the pressure and without even thinking Scott begins to pull, thick ropes of dark pain swirling under his skin.

“Scott,” Derek drops beside him, eyes still scanning the area for danger. “Scott we need to get him out of here.”

“We can’t move him,” Scott’s voice cracks in panic, but even in the midst of all this he still has a nurse for a mother and her words come tumbling out now. “He could have a spinal injury.”

“It’s not going to matter if he has a broken spine if we all die out here,” Derek says urgently.

He’s right, of course he’s right, but Scott is having a really hard time formulating any sort of plan right now. You think he’d be used to it, watching those he loves suffer for his choices, but he isn’t. It never gets any better, it just makes the hole inside his chest larger and larger until it feels like it will swallow him—

“Scott!”

Derek’s sharp tone brings Scott back to himself and he takes a shaky breath, trying to formulate a plan. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re right. We have to get him out of here.”

His whole body is screaming at him in pain but he manages to get Stiles into his arms. “You want me to take him?” Derek asks.

His own face is pale and he’s limping, clearly in no better shape than Scott. “I’ve got him,” Scott says firmly, even though his vision is swimming a little bit and his ribs are burning inside his chest.

Stiles lets out another whimper and Scott shifts him until his fingers find the bare flesh of Stiles’ arm and he resumes sucking pain from him as fast as he can.

It’s an endless trek to the car for all of them. Derek appears to be struggling, he’s clearly more hurt than he’s let on, they have all just been blown to bits after all. And Scott…Scott’s only focus is on Stiles and making sure that he gets jostled as little as possible as they stumble across the forest floor.

He hasn’t woken up or said anything, just letting out an occasional moan or gasp of pain and it’s beyond unnerving that the usually chatty Stiles has gone silent. Only his noisy breaths confirm that he’s still alive as they stumble along over the uneven ground.

By the time they reach the car Derek looks a little better, but Stiles has gone so pale it’s taking Scott back to the nogitsune days and it terrifies him. “How’s he doing?” Derek asks as he hits the gas.

“Drive fast,” is all Scott can say as he uses one hand to keep pressure on the wound and the other to sap pain from Stiles as fast as he can manage.

Derek has one hand on the wheel and with the other he’s calling the hospital, speaking fast, leaving out any details that might raise suspicion. A werewolf at the wheel is definitely faster than an ambulance, but it’s still taking far too long. Scott is literally holding his friend together, he can hear Stiles’ heartbeat growing weaker with every passing minute, and despite his best efforts there’s blood leaking everywhere. “Derek,” Scott says as they squeal around another curve, “Derek I think he’s dying.”

The wounds in Stiles’ abdomen are so eerily similar to Allison’s and Scott feels panic rise up in him again. He cannot lose someone again. He literally can’t survive it. Not this time. Not Stiles.

Derek spares a half second to glance back and then presses the pedal all the way to the floor. “Just hold on.”

“Derek, I think…I don’t know…should I—“ Scott trips over his own words, panic making them lie heavy in his throat. “Derek I can’t lose him.”

“I know,” Derek says. “I know, just hang on.”

“I think I…should I give him the bite?”

Even through the tears in his eyes he sees Derek stiffen in his seat. “Scott…”

It’s not something Stiles has ever wanted, something he’s flat out turned it down on more than one occasion. Stiles is not a supernatural. He’s just Stiles. He doesn’t need claws or fangs and he doesn’t want them. But Scott…Scott doesn’t want a world without Stiles in it.

“Derek,” Scott says urgently. He needs some guidance here. He needs Derek to tell him what to do.

“No.”

The weak, raspy response isn’t from Derek and Scott’s eyes drop downward to find Stiles staring up at him, eyes glazed with pain. “No I don’t—I don’t want it,” he rasps, sucking in a rattling breath.

“Stiles we may not have a choice,” Scott tells him, voice breaking.

“There’s alway….a choice.” Stiles’ eyes squeeze shut and he lets out a guttural moan. Blood bubbles from his lips.“Scott…Scott it hurts.”

“I know, I know it does,” Scott squeezes his arm more tightly and pulls harder, faster, drawing pain like a river through his own veins.

He can feel the wounds on his back and arms, the ones that had started to knit back together, begin to reopen, blood trickling across his skin, but he doesn’t stop, not even when he begins to gasp for air himself, breath coming in short pants as the pain goes all the way to his core. It’s like every nerve ending is on fire but he doesn’t stop, not for anything. Stiles doesn’t deserve to be in pain.

“Scott.”

His name is a terrified whimper and it brings tears to Scott’s eyes. “I’m right here Stiles. You’re going to be okay, I promise.”

Stiles’ eyes slide closed and his jaw goes slack. Scott hears his heartbeat stutter, then sluggishly let out another beat, as if it’s a candle trying to withstand a hurricane. “Derek!” Scott yells terror filling the car.

“We’re here!”

They screech into the parking lot and Derek is out of the car practically before he’s stopped it, ripping open the door so that it likely won’t ever close right again, and helping Scott pull Stiles from the car. If Scott had half a thought to spare he’d think about how many times they’ve lived through this exact moment, a mad dash to the hospital, an anxious wait for results, answers, hope.

But as it is he can hardly think anymore because all that matters is Stiles and drawing as much of his pain into himself as he possibly can.

“We need help!” Derek yells as they burst through the doors and within seconds Stiles is on a gurney and being pulled toward the ER. Scott runs alongside him, hand still glued to Stiles’ bloody, limp arm.

“You need to stay here,” one of the nurses tells him. Her name’s Claire, Scott somehow remembers. She’s in his mom’s book club. “Let him go. We’ve got him Scott.”

But he can’t. He can’t let his best friend go through those doors. Because if he does…that might be the last time he ever sees him.

“Scott!” Derek is right in his face, grabbing onto his arm and wrenching it away from Stiles because apparently Derek has the presence of mind not to lose his shit right here in the hospital emergency room.

Scott pulls away from him and reels back a bit, leaning against the wall, panting, eyes glued to the doors they’ve just pushed Stiles through. “Scott?” Derek is back in his face, eyes worried. “Scott are you okay?”

Scott can’t answer, his body has gone oddly numb, his chest tight. Black spots dance in front of his eyes and he can’t move, can barely even breathe. “Scott how much of his pain did you take?” Dereks asks, worry increasing by the second.

Scott looks at him vacantly. “All of it.”

And then he’s falling, Derek’s arms catching him as he floats away into nothing.

When he wakes up he feels weak. He can’t even remember the last time he’s felt like this. It’s like every bit of strength has been sapped from his body. He can barely even lift his eyelids, let alone a limb. Everything aches and throbs as if he’s burning up with fever or been hit by a truck.

He lets out a half a grunt as he forces his eyes open. “Easy,” Derek says and after a moment Scott’s vision clears enough to make out the other wolf sitting in a chair at the foot of his bed. He’s in a hospital room hooked up to several monitors, the cheap sheets scratching against his skin.

“Stiles?” Scott asks, his voice a broken whisper.

Derek shakes his head and Scott’s heart does an unpleasant lurch. “He’s in surgery. It’s…they’re still working on him,” Derek says heavily.

Scott looks up at the ceiling and tries to breathe, tries to stop the horrible sense of dread bubbling in his stomach. “What happened?” he finally manages.

“You almost killed yourself,” Derek says it mildly, in that annoyingly superior way he does when he thinks you’ve done something really stupid that he would never, ever stoop to do. But Scott can sense his restless fear under the surface, masked by sarcasm and biting comments. “You’re lucky you’re an alpha and Stiles is just a human. You know better than to take that much pain. You drained yourself dry. They had to restart your heart and give you stitches. You literally had to be sewn back together Scott.”

“I didn’t want him to be in pain,” Scott says, wincing as he tries to get into a more upright position. It’s futile, his limbs refuse to cooperate.

“Right because two dead pack members is so much better than one.” Derek glares at him. “It’s going to take you a week to recover from this. You couldn’t wolf out right now even if it was a lunar eclipse on a full moon.”

Scott sighs. He knows Derek is right, but it doesn’t change anything. “He shouldn’t even be a part of all this.”

“Yeah well, he may not be anymore.” Scott looks up and finds a glimmer of darkness passing over Derek’s face. For all his bravado and stoicism, Derek has a soft spot for Stiles. They all do. And losing him…it would be like losing the sun.

There’s a buzzing next to him and he turns his head enough to see his phone light up. “Oh yeah, Lydia called. About forty-five times,” Derek says.

Scott bites back a groan and through sheer force of will pulls himself upward, reaching for the phone. Derek under-exaggerated. He has over a hundred text messages from Lydia, Malia, Chris, Isaac, Liam…pretty much every single member of the pack. Plus his voicemail is full and there’s a backlog of missed calls. Most of those are also from Lydia.

“She’s on her way,” Derek says, holding up his own phone. “She calls for updates every ten minutes.”

Lydia’s at school. Safe. Away from all this. Or at least she was.

“That’s Lydia,” Scott says, stifling a groan as he reaches for his pants.

“Whoa, hey, what are you doing?” Derek gets out of his chair, hand outstretched to stop him.

“I need to check on Stiles,” Scott says.

“Um, hell no,” Derek says firmly, pushing him back against the pillows. “You basically died. Again. You need to stay right here.”

His mom chooses that moment to enter and Scott feels immediate worry. “Mom, Stiles, is he—“

“Still in surgery,” she says, her face tight and drawn. “How are you feeling? And don’t give me that ‘I’m fine’ crap. I swear if you were still a kid I would ground you forever for doing this to me again.”

But despite the sharpness of her words, her hands smooth his bedsheets, fussing with them and his IV line until she’s satisfied everything is in its place. “I’m sorry,” Scott says.

She sighs and squeezes his arm gently. “I know you are. I know you all are.”

Scott swings his eyes back to Derek. “The perimeter?”

“Isaac and Malia went to check it out. Chris is going to meet them,” Derek says. “He’ll make sure no one else gets hurt.”

For the first time all night Scott feels relief. If Chris is there, the rest of the pack is safe for now. He’ll prevent anyone else from from getting blown up or shot or stabbed. “I need to get back out there.”

“What you need,” Melissa corrects him, tucking the blankets a little tighter as if that will somehow keep him down, “is to rest. All of you,” she says, shooting a pointed look at Derek that says she is not, and has never been, fooled by his bravado. “Stiles is going to need you here when he wakes up.”

Scott does feel exhausted. It’s as if all the strength has disappeared and even his bones feel bruised.

“Where’s the Sheriff?” Scott asks, thinking guiltily of the continued agony they put that man through.

“He’s in the waiting room,” Melissa says.

Derek stands immediately. “I’ll go sit with him.”

Scott nods his thanks. The sheriff is pack. You don’t let family sit alone through something like this.

“I have to go,” Melissa tells him. “But you stay put all right? None of that disappearing from the hospital or anything. Let someone else handle it for a change.”

He equal parts wants to protest that he doesn’t do that…and do that very thing. But right now his body feels glued to the bed. “Mom, I’m sorry,” he says again, because he is. So sorry. For everything.

She runs a gentle hand through his hair. “It’s not your fault. Get some rest.”

He’s sure he won’t be able to sleep but it’s possible she’s slipped a sedative into his IV because when he opens his eyes again he can tell several hours have passed and now Liam is at the foot of his bed. “Hey man,” he says worriedly as Scott opens his eyes. “You okay?”

Better maybe, okay definitely not. His body feels less leaden and the itching in his wounds tells him they’re finally starting to knit back together. “I’m fine,” Scott says, this time managing to get himself into an upright position that somewhat resembles sitting, although it fucking hurts to do it. “Any word on Stiles?”

Liam shakes his head and Scott feels another spike of fear. It’s been too long, way too long. Scott grits his teeth and slides his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring his shaking limbs and throbbing head. “Oh, I—“ Liam blocks his path and looks at him sheepishly. “Derek says I’m not supposed to let you leave.”

“I’m your alpha,” Scott says, pulling a card he rarely does. He’s not here to order people around and make them do things they don’t want to. “You listen to me, not Derek.”

“Yeah, I know,” Liam says, not moving. “But uh, your mom also told me not to let you move and…” he leans close, his voice low, eyes darting to the door, “I’m way more scared of her than I am of you.”

He’s an alpha werewolf and a grown adult, but apparently his mother stills runs his life. Perfect. Normally he’d ignore Liam and leave anyway, but he’s pretty sure a stiff breeze could knock him over right now so if it comes to a fight, Liam is definitely going to win.

The door to his room opens and Chris comes in looking battle weary. “Is everyone all right?” Scott asks immediately.

“Everyone’s fine. We’ve got guards all around the perimeter, human and supernatural. No one’s getting through the line again tonight,” Chris says. “We swept the whole area and didn’t find any more devices. I left Malia and Isaac out there. Theo was on his way too.”

Scott feels a modicum of relief. “Thank you,” he says, throat thick with grief and fear.

Chris nods to Liam. “Give us a minute?”

Liam heads out the door looking relieved. It must not be super fun to be on babysitting duty. How are you?” Chris asks, stepping closer. “Heard you did a number on yourself.”

Scott finds he can’t speak, tears rising up to the surface. He’s tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of losing. Tired of always being one step behind Monroe and her minions. Tired of worrying day and night that if he makes one wrong move he’ll lose everyone he loves. Tired of being the one everyone turns to for answers, when he clearly doesn’t have any.

And now his best friend, a person who deserves more than anything to be safe and happy, is dying somewhere in this hospital and there’s nothing he can do about it.

He folds, crumbling in on himself, hot tear stinging his eyes. Arms come around him, pulling him in for a tight hug, holding him like he’s a child again. “This is not your fault,” Chris says softly. “None of this is your fault.”

But it is. It all is.

Scott finds himself clutching at Chris’ jacket, fingers clinging to the rough fabric, desperately needing something to hold onto. “I can’t lose him,” he manages to choke out.

Chris tightens his hold. “Stiles is a fighter. He may not be supernatural, but he’s overcome worse than this. You have to hold onto that.”

He wants to. God he wants to believe that everything is going to be all right. But things seem so bleak and hopeless. They’ve been fighting for so long and all they’ve got to show for it is battle weary fighters, some of them little more than kids, and a mountain of loss.

Chris continues to speak, cutting through Scott’s strife and self pity. “You’re in the middle of a war. And I know how hopeless it seems. But you have right on your side. You have faith. You have love. All the other side has is fear. That’s a powerful motivator; but love, that’s a lot stronger. That’s an anchor. You know that. Allison knew that. Stiles knows that. So hold on. Hold on and rise up stronger to fight again.”

Scott takes a few shaky breaths and finally pulls away. Chris puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. “You good?”

Scott nods and swipes at his face, wiping away the moisture there. The door opens and his mom walks in. “Oh, hey Chris,” she says in surprise. Her eyes find Scott. “Stiles is out of surgery.”

Scott sits up straighter. “Is he…?”

“Broken femur, three broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, internal organ damage, and a hell of a lot of blood loss,” she says frankly. “It would be easier to list things that weren’t damaged.”

“Is he…” Scott swallows, afraid of the answer, “Is he going to be all right?”

“They’ve got him in ICU. It’s touch and go right now.”

“Can I see him?”

Melissa’s eyes shift briefly to Chris and then back to Scott. “Honey they haven’t even let his dad go up yet. And you aren’t back to one hundred percent yet either.”

Waiting is agony. Scott’s only comfort over the next few days is that Derek frequently sneaks up to ICU and back out again giving them essentially the same report every time; “He looks like a ghost. He’s still breathing. His heart is still beating.”

People drift in and out of his hospital room, Lydia, Theo, Liam, Malia, Isaac, Corey, Mason, all of them stuck in some sort of zombie limbo, unable to find any light or joy in the situation.

Scott still hasn’t seen Noah. According to Derek he hasn’t left Stiles’ side, not a surprise to any of them.

Scott feels himself improve physically day by day, but emotionally he’s a wreck. With every passing hour he feels the noose of guilt pull tighter around his neck. Even after his mom finally relents and gets him discharged, (at least this time they don’t have to explain his miraculous healing, there hasn’t been any) he stays at the hospital, wearing holes in the waiting room floor along with the rest of the pack.

He’s beyond grateful to Chris who has completely taken charge of their refugees, controlling the border, checking in with other packs out of town, even calling the London pack and advising them that they might need backup.

It’s three days later when Melissa comes briskly into the waiting room, a tentative smile on her face. “He’s awake,” she says and the room lets out a collective sigh. “He talked to Noah for a few minutes. They’re running some more tests now but things look good.” She takes in the bedraggled and traumatized group. “You all should go home.”

A few of them do, reluctantly and only at Scott’s insistence. Malia and Isaac have been splitting time between the hospital and patrolling and neither of them look like they’ve slept or had real food in days. But Derek still doesn’t go anywhere and Lydia is glued to the hospital as well.

It’s another day before Stiles is finally moved out of ICU and they’re allowed to see him one at a time. Scott lets Lydia go first and she returns, eyes even redder than before. “You okay?” Scott asks.

She nods but he can tell she’s struggling. “He just looks so…” she can’t finish and it lodges a lump in his throat as he walks down the hall to his best friend’s room.

He knows what Lydia means immediately. Just looking at Stiles is painful. He leg is elevated and he’s so pale he practically blends into the sheets and pillows.

Noah is sitting by his bedside looking completely exhausted and Scott feels a familiar jolt of guilt in his gut. “Sheriff,” he says softly by way of greeting.

“Hey Scott.” The sheriff’s voice is rough. “He just went back to sleep.”

“That’s okay,” Scott says, eyes trained on Stiles’ face. It’s enough to see him, to hear his heartbeat, slow but steady.

“How are you?” Noah asks. “I heard you got pretty beat up too.”

“I’m fine,” Scott says. He’s definitely not telling the sheriff that the most he’s managed to do in the last couple days is pop his claws and even that was a huge effort that had him doubled over and panting afterward. “Sheriff Stilinski I—“

Noah shakes his head. “Don’t even go there,” he says. “We all know who’s to blame for this and it sure as hell isn’t you.”

Then why does it feel like his fault? “He should have gone back to D.C.,” Scott says softly. “He would have been safe.”

“He was going to work for the FBI Scott,” Noah says. “That’s not exactly a guarantee either. And he’s only ever wanted to be here with you.”

The words do little to soothe Scott’s anguished spirit, but his time is running out, other people want to come and visit. He reaches out a hand to touch Stiles’ arm, a single spot that isn’t covered in tubes or bandages. He pulls, gently. There’s not much pain, the morphine and other drugs are working, but he takes what little there is.

He immediately feels light headed and breathless, like someone punched him right in the gut. His knees go weak, but he locks them into place and doesn’t stop until Stiles’ face smoothes out completely and he relaxes into the pillows.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers out, voice choking on tears that are once again threatening to fall.

He turns to go but spots dance before his eyes and he reaches out, grabbing onto the IV pole for support.

“Scott,” the sheriff is on his feet, hands reaching for him, his haggard face full of new concern.

“I’m okay,” Scott gasps, letting the IV pole go, trying to steady himself on his feet. “It’s fine.”

And then Derek is there, shoving an arm under his shoulder. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” he asks in exasperation.

“How did you—“

“I heard your heartbeat,” Derek says. “I had a feeling you would do something like this. Come on, you need to sit down.”

“What happened?” Lydia asks as Derek dumps a practically boneless Scott in a waiting room chair.

“Someone decided to take Stiles’ pain. Again,” Derek says. It comes out as a growl. Derek is furious.

Scott’s head is spinning and his chest has gone tight again. “Scott what the hell is wrong with you?” Malia asks.

“He doesn’t deserve to be in pain,” Scott groans.

“Well neither do you!” Liam says. “Scott if you can’t help protect the pack, that’s really bad!”

“Yeah, not to put any pressure on you, but Liam is kind of a crappy alpha,” Malia says, not nearly as quietly as she thinks.

“I’m right here!” Liam fires back indignantly.

“He’s moody,” Malia mouths, eyes wide as she points at him to convey her point.

“Scott you need to go home,” Derek cuts in.

“I can’t leave,” Scott manages. “He needs me.”

“He has literally the entire rest of the pack here,” Malia says.

“Scott,” Lydia’s voice is soft and she puts a hand on his arm, large eyes worried. They seem to be in that state constantly lately. Just another thing to add to his list. “You can go. We’ve got this. We won’t let anything happen to him.”

They don’t leave him much choice, especially not when Derek and Liam haul him up and out to the car. He’s really going to have to work on instilling more loyalty in Liam, because one menacing glare from Derek and he’s following the former alpha’s bidding like a lapdog.

Scott’s asleep before they even leave the hospital and he doesn’t wake up until morning, still fully clothed in his bed, minus his sneakers. There’s a note from Derek threatening him with further bodily harm if he shows up at the hospital before noon and a sheepish text from Liam apologizing for his part in last night’s debacle. And for accidentally bashing Scott’s head into a doorframe as he carried him upstairs.

It’s actually a few days before he gets back to the hospital. He wants to check the borders himself, make sure they are well and truly safe for now. And that steamrolls into him checking in with the new pack members, the other refugees and scraps of packs that have made their way to the safe haven Beacon Hills has become.

Lydia updates him practically hourly and he knows that Stiles is staying awake for longer periods, has managed to keep down solid food, is now able to feed himself, and hold a conversation.

And still Scott doesn’t return. Somehow it was easier when Stiles was still unconscious. He didn’t have to look at his friend’s eyes, to see the pain and what was likely anger there. Because how could Stiles not secretly hate him? If it wasn’t for him, for the bite, they would have gone on living their lives none the wiser. Stiles would be an FBI Agent, he would be a vet, and they would have just…lived.

Now it feels like they’re cursed.

The reasons that kept him at the hospital are the same ones that now keep him away. It’s weird. Any one of their misguided guidance counselors would probably tell him he needs to talk about that and examine it, but there’s no time. There isn’t time for anything but making sure everyone is safe.

Until his phone buzzes with a message from Derek. He’s asking for you.

And he knows, he can’t put it off any longer.

He waits until night, until he gets confirmation that everyone has gone home. Everyone except Derek. Derek won’t leave Stiles unprotected.

Scott pauses outside the door, a pit in his stomach that feels like a rock. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open. “Scottttiiiieeee.” Stiles is all smiles and Scott can smell the drugs in his blood that are keeping him like that.

“Hey buddy,” Scott says, trying to force a smile onto his own face. Maybe in his drugged up state Stiles won’t notice that it’s fake as hell.

Derek is standing broodily in the corner and Scott flashes him a grateful look. If he can’t be with Stiles, he’s glad someone is.

Stiles is apparently still with it enough to sense a conversation going on without him and he frowns. “Are you the reason I have a personal bodyguard?” he asks.

“Someone tried to blow you up Stiles,” Scott says.

“Us,” Stiles says, holding up a wobbly finger of correction. “They tried to blow us up. I was just the only one who didn’t magically heal.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott says, the weariness in his soul pulling him further downward at this reminder of Stiles’ human fragility.

Derek chooses that moment to slip out the door.

Scott rubs his hands on his jeans, uncertainty running through him like a river. Stiles may be drugged, but he’s still Stiles. “You want to talk about it?” he asks.

Scott’s head snaps up and he meets his friend’s gaze, eyes sharp and knowing. “About what?” Scott asks, still trying to come off as fine.

“About why you haven’t come by in days so that I had to deal with Grumpy Cat’s rather intense presence at my bedside vigil. About why you’re standing there castigating yourself over something that isn’t your fault.”

“I’m not—“

“Scott.” Stiles gives him a look.

He knows. Of course he knows.They’ve been best friends their whole lives, he knows Scott better than Scott knows himself.

“This was…it was way too close this time Stiles,” Scott says on a rush of air. “I was holding you, feeling you die and there was nothing I could do. And all I could think about—“

He chokes on his own words, but fortunately Stiles never runs out of them. “You thought about Allison,” he says seriously.

“And Aidan, and Boyd, and Erica,” Scott continues. “Deucalion. Brett. Lori. Stiles…the list…it’s too long. And if you get added to it…”

“Then it will have been my choice,” Stiles says and it stops Scott cold. “Because I chose to stay and defend my friends and family. My choice Scott. Not yours.”

Oh. Oh.

Stiles is still going. “You didn’t choose to get the bite. But you chose everything that came after. You chose to fight for the right things Scott. You chose not to be a monster. Not all monsters do monstrous things, right? Well I chose this. I chose Beacon Hills. I choose this pack. I choose you. I choose Lydia. I…” he pulls a face, “begrudgingly choose Derek. Because he’s big and menacing and good at keeping bad guys away.”

Scott cracks a real smile, a sliver of light stealing its way back into his soul. “He is good at that.”

“I do not choose Theo,” Stiles continues, on a roll now. “Ever. For any reason. I choose Jackson if and only if he stops being an asshole.”

“I got it Stiles,” Scott says, face begrudgingly pulling into a full on grin.

“You sure? Because I can keep going. Liam I can take or leave depending on the day and how annoying he’s being.”

“Stiles, I got it!” Scott says, a genuine chuckle sneaking out.

“There he is,” Stiles says, a smile on his own face. “That’s the Scott McCall I know. No more Gloomy Gus around here all right?”

“Stiles you’re in a hospital bed. You broke practically every bone in your body and almost bled out. I have a reason to be a little upset.”

“But I’m fine.” He looks down at his bandage covered body and reconsiders. “Well I will be. And so will you. Not that you didn’t also try to kill yourself on my behalf.” Stiles raises his eyebrows and Scott winces. “Oh yeah. Derek filled me in. On everything.”

“I just…didn’t want you to be in pain.”

“Yeah, well, while I appreciate the ever present existence of pain drain, you really don’t need to sacrifice yourself on my behalf. Again.” Stiles looks down as his hands. “But thanks. If you guys hadn’t gotten me here so fast…”

“Yeah,” Scott says, his eyes burning again. He’s cried more in the last week than he has since Peter bit him.

“You don’t need to take all this on by yourself Scott,” Stiles says quietly. “And you can’t protect everyone from everything.”

It’s a bitter thing to hear and he swallows it down painfully. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s been reminded of this, but he so badly wants to keep them all safe, to take them all back to a time before fangs and claws and glowing eyes ruled their lives.

“Scott?” Stiles says, eyes searching him for a response.

“I just want you to be okay,” Scott says heavily.

“I know,” Stiles says.

The two of them sit in the silence a moment, all the unsaid things, the weight of fighting a war they didn’t start hanging in the space between them. “I did take down two guys though,” Stiles finally says, breaking the tension.

“Yeah with your stupid bat,” Scott says, rolling his eyes.

"Oh it’s definitely time for me to learn how to use a gun,” Stiles says. “A big one. Possibly also a flame thrower. Or a tank. Scott, I think we should get a tank.”

“I’m not letting you out again in anything less than full body armor,” Scott says, sinking down into a chair by his bed.

“Oh! Yes. Body armor. We’ve got to have the budget for that somewhere right? Who knows that? Argent. He has to have some connections on that right? Legal ones?”

Scott sinks down into a chair beside Stiles’ bed and listens to him chatter on, feeling his own eyelids grow heavy.

“Scott? Scottie?”

“Mhhmmm,” Scott murmurs, body relaxing as sleep pulls him downward.

His best friend is alive. For now the border is safe. The pack is strong. And for the first time in a long time, soothed by the sound of Stiles’ voice, he falls into peaceful sleep.

#Teen Wolf #Scott McCall #Stiles Stilinski #Derek Hale #Stiles whump #Broken Bones #Blast injuries #Blood #Hurt Stiles #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #Lots of feels #Scott is a good friend #Scott is a good Alpha #Malia has the best lines by far #Teen Wolf Fanfic #Where Hope is Left So Incomplete

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