#steo A-Z

[voidstilesplease]

zenith

word count: <1000 words | tags: lovers to enemies; mancers or magic users Stiles and Theo. Theo is a Necromancer (a magician of death), while Stiles is a Dismancer (a magician of discord/chaos). Based from this tumblr post. Complete AO3 chapters here.

after years, i finally completed this au series. phew!

—-

Stiles has waited years for this day. He’s fantasized dozens of scenarios for when he and Theo cross paths again but somehow never imagined it happening this way. It was always some version of Stiles waltzing into the den of the Dread Doctors – the supernatural scientists responsible for taking Theo away from them almost two years ago – saving Theo and bringing him home.

Despite the initial distrust they had of Theo – the only Necromancer to be born in the last three centuries – once Theo proved himself and his loyalty to the House of Magic by bringing Kira back to life, endangering himself, and fighting the hunters, they couldn't deny anymore that he was one of them. Despite the type of dark magic he had – the darkest magic that every single magic user in existence fears – he belonged with them.

And he was Stiles’. Before those Dread Doctors came and disappeared with Theo in the shadows, he and Theo were discussing the lives they could and would like to have someday outside the House of Magic, outside Beacon, outside their ability.

But now, it is evident that those fantasies will never come to pass. 

“Was this your plan all along?” Stiles quietly asks, kneeling in a pool of blood. He can’t even tell whose blood it is mostly – just that it’s a mix of everyone he loves. Every one of their friends who wanted to get Theo back just as much as Stiles did. And now everyone Stiles may not get back.

Were any of those plans he made with Stiles even real for Theo? Even a little?

Theo steps forward, gesturing at the chamber, healthy and seeping with power, not at all the magic-depraved, sickly, and tortured man they were worried he would be. 

“What do you think of it, Stiles? The walls, floor, and ceiling are heavily infused with iron and lead, enough to incapacitate even a powerful magician.” When he looks at Stiles, he grins. “You know, like that one that we planned to build in the House as an isolation room? Of course, I made it ten times worse and added a little touch of fatality, but yeah. As envisioned.” He sweeps his hands around proudly like he expects Stiles to applaud his genius.

He can’t if he wants to since Theo has his arms and wrists bound in poison iron.

“I think,” Stiles replies, throat raspy from misuse, “you’re a piece of shit.”

The smile doesn’t slide off Theo’s face. He shrugs easily like the weight of what he’s done to his friends is not weighing down on him at all. “I guess, I deserve that after this... poor reception.”

No, Stiles disagrees. What he deserves is pain. An endless flow of it. Stiles has a lot of it from his friends; from himself, even more. If only he could inflict it on Theo.

“Was this your plan all along?" he asks again, looking at Theo, willing him to tell the truth. Willing him to stop his lies, for once. "Lure us in, slowly kill us to feed your magic, and then give us to the Dread Doctors to be their plaything as you were? Why wait years, then? Why didn't you let us find you right at the beginning? Why were you so confident we wouldn't just give up on you?" Quieter, he adds. “I guess that's where I come in: this stupid magician who makes a habit of upsetting the balance just to keep the people he loves. Was none of it real?” Was anything between us real?

The smile does drop, then. All charades gone. In place is a cold look. Theo shrugs again, “Does it matter now?”

Stiles exhales shakily, “It does.”

Theo frowns at his reply, “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me, Stiles?” He steps forward, suddenly enraged. “You’re the expert in creating illusions inside people’s heads, aren’t you? So, you tell me. Was any of it real?” 

Stiles scoffs. “When have I ever pretended with you? I'm here, am I not, as you knew I would be? My magic feeds off of pain. I create nightmares, Theo, not fantasies.”

“But when those fantasies fall, what is left, Stiles?”

Against his better judgment, Stiles’ eyes begin to prickle. “I’m not the one who betrayed us. We came here to save you. I came to get you back, you worthless son of a bitch.”

Theo stands abruptly, hands tightly fisted at his sides. “I don’t need saving,” he spats, turning and making for the exit. Then he stops and looks over his shoulder to say, “You never should have trusted me.”

“No,” Stiles says, hollow voice above a whisper. “I never should have.”

For a moment, Theo only stands there, looking at Stiles, at the unconscious and bloody bodies of their friends. The only reason Stiles knows they’re not dead is because he can taste their pain. He cannot use their pain, not inside this room, but he can still feel it in the prickling of his fingertips.

“I can feel your pain, too, you know?” says Stiles a moment later. His eyes meet Theo’s. “That’s how I know some of it was real for you. In a perfect world, we can still escape and live the life of our dreams.” Stiles watches the hard way Theo swallows and hears his sharp exhale of breath. “But we’re done living in that fantasy.”

Theo tears his eyes away, moves past the entrance, and presses a button to close the chamber's mechanical doors. 

For a moment, their eyes meet one last time as Stiles and Theo, the magicians who fell in love and dreamed of getting out. There’s no getting out after this.

“Welcome to your nightmare, Theo.”

And the door shuts.

—-

steo a-z: part 26

[othercrossee]

I need to set aside my differences with vernon and realize we both love boo with our whole being and would probably kill for him

[steoxthiles]

First chapter of my new steo fic is up! Go check it out if you want

-

Whenever Stiles pictured his future, living in New York wasn’t part of the plan. In fact, he had a very specific plan, he used to plan everything out to the exact detail, had an exact timeframe for every little thing.

One thing Stiles has learned since his days of planning was that nothing will ever work out the way you want.

[chinaelectronicmusic]

Chinese Electro Mixtape

音 China Electronic Mixtape

Tracklist

0:00 Howie Lee - The Gate

3:30 Skey - Tea

6:30 JINACTION - 鸟语花香

9:15 KK Zhang - Dynasty Z

13:00 Dexter King - Hidden Dragon

15:20 周杰伦 -龙拳 (Dirty K’s 两岸统一 Remake)

17:50 Steo Le Panda - Panda! / Pocket (Fusion Remix)

20:15 Animal Pop - The Other Children

22:30 DJ Doggy - Forest

26:00 Another Van - Conjure Who

30:15 Diamond Lil’ - 舞池

36:00 Jason Hou - Sheng

38:30 L+R - 昆曲

42:10 Diva Li - Black Lines

46:00 Mickey Zhang - China

50:00 WuLeKOng - Chinawave

52:30 Bassguo & Kamara - 观象Watch Celestial Phenomena

57:40 M3SSIAH,Sonny Zamolo - Tao

60:00 3asic - Glow

[voidargentv]

This is a one shot I wrote a while ago, for all of you Steo lovers! If anyone has any prompt ideas, let me know! It doesn't have to just be for Steo, but they are my personal favorite to write about!

❤❤❤

[voidstilesplease]

yearn

word count: >800 words | tags: Mob Boss!Theo (but vague), Powerful!Stiles, this is in the same verse and directly after this eros x thanatos ficlet.

Hi! I'm back with a little steo :))) Been a while.

----

“Congratulations, Eros.” Gerard’s voice drawls as soon as the call goes through. “You have once again evaded me and disposed of some of my best men while at it.”

Theo’s fists clench, his jaws flexing, and his nose flaring. “Touch him again, and you will find your throat torn open by the vengeful end of my claws, you old bastard.”

“Oh, is that contempt I hear?” taunts Gerard. The malicious grin he must be sporting is clear in Theo’s head. It makes his blood boil. “But nothing ever fazed you before. Here I thought your heart was made of stone.”

“And yours will be made of bloody ribbons.”

Gerard chuckles, “My, my. What an improvement this is. You don’t usually make direct threats to me.” 

Theo could hear him lighting up a smoke on the other side, inhaling, and blowing. His claws dig in his palm, and he wants nothing more than to smash Gerard’s face and mark him with the epithet Stiles gave Theo with his own filthy blood.

“All this rage for a stripper, Theodore? It seems I have succeeded in finding your weakness.”

Theo sharply looks up, flashing his cold blue eyes and snarling when the door opens. He explicitly instructed Josh not to disturb him while he was seething in rage inside his office. But the sound immediately dies in his throat when it’s not Josh who enters, but Stiles, pale as ever and reeking of dried blood. His clothes and hands are covered in it as well.

Stiles smiles at the sight of Theo, closing the door and crossing the distance to Theo’s large mahogany desk, walking around it to stand right in front of him.

Lowly, Theo growls, eyes on Stiles the entire time. “You have succeeded in nothing but expediting your own demise.”

Gerard laughs, clicking his tongue, but Theo couldn’t care less now that Stiles is back home to him. He couldn’t care less – not when Stiles sinks to his knees and lays his head on Theo’s lap. His fingers run through Stiles’ sweat and blood-matted hair, curling gently at the tips. Slowly, Stiles turns his head to look directly at Theo.

“You foolish dog,” Gerard jeers. “Of all the monsters in the world, you chose to love a fragile human. Do you see how easy this will be now?”

Stiles blinks at him and smiles again while Theo wipes the little bloodstain on his cheek. He inhales, smelling one, two, three, four different types of blood on him – and four varied lingering scents of fear clinging to Stiles’ skin. Theo knows he must have enjoyed this one from the proud look on Stiles’ face.

“Did you ever wonder if they begged for their lives?” Theo asks, pressing the phone close to his lips, answering Gerard’s taunt with one of his own. “The countless poor men you sacrificed because you were too coward to seek me out yourself?”

There’s a short pause, then a hiss. “You best believe I am coming for you, dog. It’s going to be my wolfsbane bullet that kills you.”

“They couldn’t,” Theo continues, ignoring the threat. Theo has received numerous threats from endless lines of enemies – it’s nothing novel now. He has worse enemies than Gerard, who is but a petulant old bastard who can’t accept that humans aren’t the only creatures crawling on God’s green earth. But giving credit where it’s due, Gerard has been the first to touch Stiles. Everyone turns their nose up on Stiles, hired in his club to entertain his guests – friends and enemy spies alike. Rumor has it Theo offers his human bitch to his business partners, letting them fuck him on top of a table in the VIP booth alongside lines of wolfsbane and coke, surrounded by the smoke of cannabis. Of course, Theo would sooner claw his eyes out than give Stiles to anyone that way. 

“They couldn’t because their tongues had already retreated down their throat in fear. They had no idea what was coming for them.”

Stiles quietly giggled, rubbing his cheek on Theo’s palm.

Gerard snaps in outrage, “Yes, they did. They all deserved to die dirtied by the brand of a psychotic monster for their incompetence in putting one werewolf down. I buried my men without washing the name Eros on their skin to remind me of the disgrace they brought to me and the ever-growing spite that keeps me eager to end you.”

He looks into Stiles’ eyes, and an understanding passes between them without words. Stiles’ eyes glaze in excitement. “Pity. Who’s going to bury you, Gerard? Because you’re next. You’re next.”

Theo hangs up and crushes the phone into debris with his hand.

Stiles nods, grins, kisses the open palm of Theo’s other hand, and buries his head on his lap again.

Gerard will be disappointed to know that Theo has no weakness – he only has Stiles, his little angel of death.

---

steo a-z: part 25

[voidstilesplease]

xenogenesis

word count: >1k words | tags: extraterrestrials (mention), a questionable negotiation, aliens have invaded Earth and are possessing human bodies to survive, nods at Meyer's The Host

Theo hisses under his breath as he collides against a wayward trolley cart, sending some of its contents – a stainless steel tray full of unused syringes and blood vials – clattering and rolling across the sterile floor of the long corridor. Stiles doesn’t even glance over his shoulder at the noise and continues walking further away from Theo.

Theo swears. One guess on who arranged the trolley exactly along the path of anyone who turns the corner, in perfect position for a collision. Stiles is many things, and little shit is most of them.

“You won’t get there in time to stop the extraction!”

“And your shorter limbs can’t catch up to me in time to stop me.” Stiles angrily replies without pausing or looking back. “We all know the cryopod is barely fixed to sustain the Soul once extracted, so I don’t know what the fuck got into your heads to make this decision. Its best chance is staying inside its host,” Stiles makes a sharp turn to the left, and Theo groans as he picks up his pace once more. Stiles's furious voice carries even with his body out of view. “So, keep the human host alive to keep it alive. We are not killing my subject today.”

It’s too late to break his momentum when Theo turns the same corner hot on Stiles’s trail and walks straight into a portable lab coat rack this time, smacking the bridge of his nose against a steel rod.

“Motherfu –“ he curses, rubbing his injured nose. Having had enough of Stiles’s petty stunts, Theo growls and shoves the rack aside, unmindful of where it ends up, and shouts at Stiles’s retreating form. “I have already agreed to host it!”

A telltale squeaking of shoes halting mid-step echoes around the hallway following Theo’s statement. There’s a second of pause before Stiles whips around, whole body, mouth hung open and eyes bulging out of the sockets. Despite his raging jealousy, Theo crosses his arms and smirks in victory. Stiles has always boasted about being able to predict Theo’s next moves because in Stiles's words: 'he’s surviving on exactly one brain cell'. Not too predictable now, is he.

Spiteful, he watches as Stiles cries in his outrage and barrels over to him in long, fuming strides. It’s true that Theo can’t catch up to Stiles. It’s much more satisfying to reel him back in, anyway.

“Are you insane?” Stiles hisses up at Theo’s face when he gets close enough. “We spent years fighting them, doing our best to save as many human hosts as possible, protecting our bodies from becoming their possession. And you’re just giving yours willingly?”

“Oh, come on, Stiles.” Theo scoffs, shaking his head in scorn. He lets his arms fall to the side and sneers. “Aren’t you happy to hear you’re not going to lose your extraterrestrial boyfriend?”

Stiles narrows his eyes dangerously. Slowly, but with an obvious warning in his tone, he says, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

With venom in his smile, Theo closes their distance by another step. “You know precisely what I mean,” Rage builds inside Stiles’s eyes when he catches the knowing look from Theo. He starts shaking his head in disgust, but Theo doesn’t back down now that he’s got the attention he wants. “Sympathizing with your ‘subject’ is one thing, Stiles, but engaging it sexually? That is too random, frequent, and passionate to be related to your goal to assess your 'androgyne theory'? You’re fucked up.”

“You’re fucked up,” Stiles retorts hotly, nostrils flaring at Theo. “What, have you been watching?”

Theo scoffs, “You’re fucking the alien inside your lab, Stilinski, in a compound full of your fellow insurgents. You’re not exactly the epitome of discretion.”

“So, what’s this?” Stiles grits his teeth, losing his composure. “Are you going to use what you know to blackmail me?”

“I said,” Theo enunciates, slowly, to make his point. “that I will host the Soul when its current body dies – and we both know it will. It won’t be able to repress me like what it did to its present host – you made sure of that. We will cohabitate, like what your research always meant to test. I’m giving full consent. So, where is the blackmail in that?”

Stiles looks shell-shocked for a moment but quickly regains his faculties enough to accuse Theo again, “I know you,” he hisses in loathing. “Too well for my own good, Theo. You’re not helping Derek out of the kindness of your heart. You want something. So, tell me, huh. What’s in it for you?”

Derek. Theo wants to gag. He’s even addressing it with the name it chose for itself upon its initial inhabitation of the host body instead of the serial code tattooed on the left wrist of each Soul-possessed human host. Stiles is gone on this invader. And if Theo didn’t intend to use that to his benefit, he’d have puked from revulsion. But considering his less than noble intentions, he can’t really pass judgment. Because from the same terrain or not, they’re all creatures of habit – selfishness is the way of life.

“Well,” he starts, lightly brushing his thumb along Stiles’s jaw. He enjoys how it ticks under his finger. “You’re in love with a bodiless Soul, and I’m in love with you –“

Stiles sucks in a sharp breath.

steo a-z: part 24

“Use me to get what you want to give me what I want.” Smiling winningly, Theo concludes, “It’s a win-win situation, wouldn’t you say?”

***

[voidstilesplease]

vendetta

Word count: >1k | Tags: Vampire!Theo (again? again), werefox!Stiles | Notes: Vampire vs Vulpine vs Lycan (implied)

~•~

“So,” Theo starts, and Stiles can basically hear the smirk in his voice. “What crackbrained scheme have the Lycans concocted this time?”

Theo’s breath causes the hair at the back of Stiles’s neck to rise as he shudders, almost purring in response. He presses his back closer against Theo’s cold skin, seeking more of that addictive contact. Sighing in satisfaction, Stiles replies, “I don’t think it’s foolish if I’m honest.”

The arms around his midriff tightened, and Stiles feels Theo’s icy lips tracing their way upward to his ear. Theo chuckles, nipping gently at his earlobe. “Really? And what now, pray tell, is their clever ploy to avoid the war?”

Stiles turns in Theo’s embrace so he can face his lover. With one hand, he plays with the strands of Theo's hair, while running the other all over his lover’s chest. He never quite feels like he’s touched Theo enough even with the years they spent together concealed from other’s eyes.

Stiles's hand pauses its pilgrimage, fingers caressing the spot where he would have felt Theo’s heartbeat if he had one. Without looking away from the stillness of his lover’s chest, he says, “The Lycans are seeking an alliance with us."

“A foolhardy quest,” Theo confidently declares with a scoff, rubbing circles on Stiles’s naked hip. Stiles, in turn, kisses Theo’s collarbone and feels the shake Theo's head above his own. “The Vulpine loathe them even more than we do.”

Kissing his way up Theo’s throat, Stiles murmurs without pausing his ministrations. “That may have been the truth years ago,” he whispers, clutching Theo’s chest between their bodies, “but I’m afraid a lot has shifted since.”

Theo breaks away, curious, “Meaning what?”

Stiles cups Theo's neck, looking up to meet his eyes. “Meaning my mother has accepted, and a treaty is being drafted as we speak.”

“What treaty?” Theo asks sharply, body going rigid and eyes hardening in suspicion.

Stiles swallows, mentally preparing himself for the blow that will follow his next words. Theo's eyes never leave his face, and so he decides to be done with it. “I’ve been promised to the Lycan prince.” Stiles confesses.

Theo sits abruptly, dragging the sheets with him and exposing Stiles’s nakedness to the crisp air inside the cabin. Stiles rises as well, grabbing the edge to cover himself as much as he can. He opens his mouth to appease his lover, but the murderous rage in Theo’s eyes shoves the words back down his throat.

“What?” The venom inflicted in that one word sends a shiver down Stiles’s spine, and for once, not in a good way. Theo hisses, baring blunt white teeth as his eyes bleed obsidian. “What is this then, a farewell fuck?”

Theo starts to stand, but Stiles grabs him, using his natural quickness to climb into Theo's lap and twine his arms around his neck in one blink of an eye. Theo snarls, gripping Stiles’s waist tightly without hurting but not pushing him away. His fangs have dropped in his anger, but as soon as Stiles’s lithe body settles on him, around him, he makes no move to leave.

“You’re wrong,” Stiles says, nuzzling into Theo’s neck, rubbing his scent all over his furious lover in a placating gesture. His fingers grip the back of Theo’s head and pull him closer, kissing the side of his snarling mouth before looking up to his eyes. “This is a ‘run away with me’ fuck.”

From one second to the next, Theo’s fangs retract and the total blackness of his eyes swirls back to blue. Theo blinks, his fury melting into hurt. “Don’t start giving me false hopes.” He doesn’t release his hold on Stiles’s body, clutching in a manner that contradicts what he says. “You’ll never abandon your family. Your kind will brand you a traitor the moment they find out you’ve been cavorting with the likes of me. You said it yourself: you pledge your loyalty only to your kin, the people closest to your heart.”

Stiles detaches Theo’s hand from around one hip and places it over his beating heart, holding it there. His earnest gaze locks with Theo, and he asks, “Aren’t you the closest to my heart?”

“Stiles-“

“I swear it.” Stiles interrupts. He closes his eyes, drawing their foreheads together as he whispers in the quiet of the room. “I swear by the moon that’s watching us that I will run with you.” His hands find Theo’s face between them and hold onto it. “Away from this centuries-old vendetta that separates me from you.”

Theo shakes his head, but his voice begins to sound hopeful nonetheless. “Our clans will plunge into chaos the moment we disappear.”

“They will plunge into chaos regardless,” Stiles replies. “I will never marry the Lycan.”

Theo hisses at the mention of the Lycan prince, his body instinctively embracing Stiles in a possessive grip. “And they will have to sever my head from my neck and burn it in the holy fire before I allow it to happen.”

His chest constricts, feeling it throbbing at the gravity of his decision. He had indeed sworn to Theo, years back when they only began their affair, that his blood would always come first. But that was before he became a bargaining chip so that a vulpine could take one of the highest seats in the Lycan court. That was before he knew that his mother had known about Theo all along. Before he watched her give her blessing to the Lycan prince on his desire to capture and publicly execute Theo for sullying the virtue of his ‘intended’. Before he realized he was only a pawn in their games.

“I quite like your head where it is,” Stiles says with a faint laugh. He pulls back to look at his lover’s eyes and feels the ache in his chest muting down at the unmistakable love he finds there. Stiles knows he will regret it more if he doesn’t try with Theo than if they tried and failed.

Smiling at the life he’s picturing in his head, he asks, “So let’s do the selfish thing and leave it all behind, wouldn’t you say?”

Without hesitation, Theo replies, “I’ve only been waiting for you to ask.”

~•~

steo a-z: part 22 | AO3 collection

[voidstilesplease]

willow

word count: >2k words | tags: steo, major character death (implied, temporary) - it's not MCD descriptive, I swear, necromancy

---

"Don't," a familiar voice hisses all the sudden, "do anything stupid."

Theo grunts, his hackles rising, as his quiet peace rudely gets interrupted. He's been expecting Lydia to accost him all day, that's true, but it's still quite annoying to be disturbed amid his melancholy.

Belatedly registering what she's said, Theo scoffs faintly but says nothing in return. He keeps his eyes on the fresh mound of soil where they buried the love of his life not two hours ago, sparing Lydia no glance. The sun is setting in the West, and most mourners have gone home. Of course, they have. What reason would they have for staying? Stiles was another dead body to them - a promising, youngling gone too soon. They only stood by and watched as Theo's entire world narrowed down to a box lowered six feet on the ground.

"I'm serious, Theo." Lydia insists impatiently, her red-rimmed eyes boring holes at the back of his head. He knows she's serious, of course - can detect the frustration in her voice. Frankly, Theo has no care whatsoever for what she has to say, but Theo lets her speak. It's the only courtesy he can afford her. She barrages on, "Grief drives desperate people into doing desperate and stupid things."

The way she intones her statement is more accusatory than matter-of-factly, and for that, Theo has to stifle a snort. Otherwise, he remains mute. What's he supposed to say to that? It's true.

What's also true is that Lydia Martin doesn't beg, in any shape or form, especially people like Theo - people she tolerates at best. But incredibly so, she does today.

She steps forward until their shoulders are brushing, and she grabs Theo's upper arm, grips it tightly, her fingers digging. Throughout Lydia's troubles, Theo remains stoic and immovable from the pressure. She cries "please," in this grave, almost manic way, likely realizing soon enough that she's pleading on a brick wall. But her conscience nags at her to keep going, so she does so in vain. Grief drives desperate people into doing desperate things, all right.

Her voice quivers slightly, "Please tell me you're not seriously thinking about it."

Theo takes pity, turning to face her - at her ruined mascara and colorless lips - and finally talk. Scanning her almost disheveled appearance, Theo doesn't remember a day when Lydia looked as bare and vulnerable as she is today. She wears makeup like armor.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Lydia," he tonelessly denies. Her eyes are shining with more unshed tears, and she's visibly distressed at their loss - Stiles had also been important to her. Theo almost feels guilty for poking at her open wound - almost. He's still not as overly fond of her as Stiles would've liked. Cocking his head to the side and leaning into her space, Theo draws his eyebrows and whispers conspiratorially, "Do you know something I don't?"

Lydia glares at him, absolutely shaking in indignation as she crosses her arms and hugs her body to try and stop it from shivering. The wind has picked up, icy against her skin, no doubt - Theo, fortunately, doesn't have the same problem - but her anger burns. And Theo gives zero fucks what she feels. She's never liked it when he's being particularly obnoxious and condescending. That is to say: she's never liked Theo for a day in her life. Hence, they never learned to be friends outside of Stiles despite being in one pack. It's a shame, honestly. But something about being too despicable to the point of driving his pack insane fulfills him. It's completely sick in the head, but then again, maybe Theo is. Who knows what was tinkered in his brain during his captivity?

Gnashing her teeth, Lydia replies with as much acid as she can conjure, "Don't play games with me, Theo Raeken."

Theo pulls back, smiling without humor. "I'm not playing games. I'm way past playing games, Lydia."

She's furious and mourning, and above all, she knows better, though she convinces herself that this conversation is not what it is: useless.

She had searched Theo's eyes first - not Scott's, not Malia's, not anyone else's - immediately after letting out the most foreboding, piercing scream the night the Alpha pack bore on them, and they lost Stiles. She had pulled him into her arms without preamble, tucked her face into his neck as if it was a common practice. Theo didn't even have time to be surprised that Lydia Martin, who had never been above civil towards him, was embracing him in the open. She held him tight to keep Theo grounded, herself too perhaps, for the tragedy about to befall. He understood the implication perfectly well, just as she understood when Theo ultimately stopped grieving within the first hour of Stiles's death. Lydia had taken one look at the cold, hard, hell-bent look in his eyes and knew.

Of course, she knew and wished for nothing else at the moment that it was just the desire for retribution. How they would all wish it were simply that. But Lydia had been there in that room many months ago, when Stiles had chattered endlessly about the pariah living by the dead willow tree two towns over, as ignorant of the gravity of that conversation as Theo was, and knew better.

It was Stiles's job as Scott's second, at least it was how Stiles saw it, to act as the emissary. He was learning from two actual druid emissaries. And it had been a point of contention between the two in the course of their time with Stiles, whether it was wiser to leave it out or tell him about the outcasted third of the triumvirate: Baccari - the one they were shaping Stiles to be the replacement of. In the end, they'd unwittingly made a decision that would evidently upend the precious balance that was everything they cared about.

"She couldn't stay," Theo recalls Stiles saying, clear as day as though it had happened yesterday, "Not after Deaton and Morrell kicked her out. And she couldn't keep feeding on the Nemeton either, as she had severed from it. She had defiled its purpose. So, she went and looked for another one, making sure to stay close to her home tree. And, oh! You can't even begin to imagine how many trees there are within ten miles in every direction that possess a spark - and I have a map entirely for that purpose."

Stiles had talked animatedly over a large bag of chips, eyes bright and wide, never mind that he shouldn't be telling absolutely a single soul of the confidential information he'd been trusted to keep. But he got bored of the school project they were stuck doing; with all that was going on in the supernatural side of the spectrum, school and projects seemed too mundane at times, you know? And they were pack, so what was the harm?

"And she decided to latch onto a dead willow tree?" Lydia asked in a deadpan tone as she scribbled on and on somewhat aggressively on a sheet of paper. She was the only one studiously completing the project by that point, and neither Theo nor Stiles had been too apologetic.

Theo had long given up interest in it, turning all of his attention instead to Stiles. He was always best at that from the start - abandoning everyone and everything for Stiles.

"It wasn't always dead," replied Stiles, rolling his eyes right back at Lydia. "In fact, it was a magical-looking willow, like something straight out of a fairytale, before she up and defiled it, too."

"What was it she did that got her kicked out anyway?" asked Theo, genuinely curious of that particular detail. Druids were becoming more and more a bunch of cryptic stuck-ups in his eyes that he wouldn't be surprised if it were for something as simple as being agreeable and straightforward for once. But how wrong he was.

The question gave Stiles a pause, taken aback like he had not expected to be asked it despite its glaring importance to the narrative he was telling. His demeanor shifted from lax to tense, eyes averting and likely debating in his head whether to answer or not. Theo would not have insisted, about to tell Stiles to forget he even asked if it made him uncomfortable at all, as he had already given away one too many secrets, anyway. But Stiles had already opened his mouth.

"She upset the balance," Stiles said carefully, in a manner that sounded as though he was directly quoting the druids when he'd asked the same question to them. He had looked at Theo and Lydia meaningfully as if that should be all the clue they needed.

Looking back, it probably should have been. After all, the druids have repeatedly referred to Theo as a disruption of 'the balance'. Because Theo wasn't supposed to be what he was: half a werewolf and half a were coyote - a chimera, and a living one at that. It just wasn't possible to be two creatures at the same time. Or even be one without being born into it or bitten into becoming. And be alive, above all, to tell the tale. But the dread doctors - Theo's captors and tormentors for years on end before being rescued; made the Sheriff's ward and moved into their home - created Theo to prove all of it wrong. They'd killed his family, his sister whose heart replaced Theo's weak and failing one, to cause discord in nature with their pseudoscience. Since then, the druids have considered Theo an anomaly, and they always regarded him with the utmost suspicion. Would have elected to withdraw him from Scott's pack, chain him in Eichen House for the rest of his life if it wasn't for Stiles. He was supposed to stay a myth or die before Tara's heart could touch his chest, as far as they were concerned.

But Theo - already sick to his stomach of that term 'the balance', and how it was always upset or disrupted and must be maintained at all costs - hadn't immediately read the room. Lydia had gone quiet and somber, Stiles twitchy and agitated, and Theo was the dumbass who asked plaintively, guessing like a total idiot, "She killed someone?"

Lydia scoffed, giving him a scathing look that conveyed exactly how impossibly thick she thought he was acting more than usual. She hissed at him, one more wrong word away from smacking his jaw uneven. "No, Theo. She did the exact opposite of that. Which is, nonetheless, as fundamentally unspeakable as taking someone's life."

Theo had stopped short, blinking in surprise and not half disturbed by the idea like Lydia visibly was. He remembers thinking in bewilderment, 'someone has the power to do that?' Because yes, he called it what it was - power. The absolute pinnacle of it. Killing someone makes you a criminal. But that? Makes you a god.

Stiles nodded, gaze lost far outside his bedroom window as if it had jumped two towns over to zero in on the dead willow tree they spoke of. Theo had caught sight of the pensive look in his face before he turned his back on them, the glimmer of inquisitive interest in his eyes that he deliberately shielded away from Lydia. There was even an ominous wonderment in his voice that was unmistakable to Theo's ears when Stiles tried the words out loud:

"She brought someone back to life."

He's pulled back to the present by another of Lydia's violent tugging and change of trajectory. She looks stubbornly resolute despite the snot in her face as if anything she says matters. As if Theo hadn't already made up his mind the moment he held Stiles's lifeless body and knew for a fact that he couldn't do it without him. As if she isn't well aware that Stiles is all Theo had - has.

Looking into his eyes, she says, tears and all, "Stiles would ask you not to do it if he were here."

Theo shakes his head, detaching himself from Lydia's grip. Detaching himself from everything he won't have - after. He replies, "He isn't is the problem."

And he walks away, ready to fix it.

***

steo a-z: part 23 | AO3

Let me go off a bit because it's a rarity to go online these days 😭 So, there's actually an entire thing going on in my head for this one, but it's a right bitch to form sentences in my current predicament (see: total blackout for over two weeks now). Theo, of course, as all men know, goes to Baccari about the Stiles, uh, situation. And, of course, Baccari asks for something in return from Theo because the price of resurrecting someone has got to be hefty, you know. The process is an entire affair on its own. So it's no surprise that Baccari wants no less than years of Theo's servitude as payment (or more even, idk). All of that aside, Baccari warns Theo that they're not always who they used to be when they come back - the dead ones. They always come back - to put it simply - defective. But Theo will stop at nothing to get Stiles back. He knows that he will love Stiles in any shape or form. So the process goes, and Stiles wakes. Stiles comes back as Void, a sinister shadow of his old self, and Theo loves him no less. But ohhhh, the murder boyfriends shenanigans start!!!

Well that's all. I just really miss my fandom and friends :'( It's not been an agreeable past two weeks, is all. That's also why this ficlet is the longest yet in this collection. Well, crossing my fingers they at least restore the Internet to make it suck less...

[voidstilesplease]

undermine

Word count: >1k | Warning/s: none | Tags: Has a little bit of Sterek. This is, in fact, an extension of this ficlet. It's not a requirement to read the linked work, but hey, if you want to, it works as a prequel.

---

"So," Theo begins, startling Stiles, who's sitting by himself on the table, looking at his half-empty champagne glass in contemplative silence. He sits on the empty seat beside Stiles, inwardly sneering at the name card that indicates he's occupying the seat assigned to Derek. His own is right across from Stiles, which is not exactly an unfavorable location considering he has a perfect view of the beautiful man, but really, if the soul strings were to dictate, he and Derek would have to trade places. Stiles is his soulmate, after all. Not Derek's.

Pacifying his bitter thoughts, he puts his own glass on the table, purposely knocking over Derek's name card – a petty act that Stiles doesn't miss but chooses to leave no remark on – and pulls a big smile from his lips as he meets Stiles's eyes. He looks even more attractive up close, Theo revels in fascination. Even if the look that Stiles is giving him is not exactly the welcoming sort.

"So, what?" Stiles snaps at him when instead of finishing his statement, Theo studies his face. He can't help it. Stiles is enchanting. Theo supposes it's the soulbond that's doing it – making Stiles the center of Theo's attention. And he can tell that despite the bite in his tone, Stiles is just as affected by him. The beautiful flush rising from his clavicles – a rather fetching pair of it too that Theo imagines licking and biting and leaving his mark on – up to his cheeks is a dead giveaway. Stiles is determined to not allow his gaze to linger, too, shifting on his chair and glancing around, probably in search of an excuse to leave. Theo won't make it easy. He rather enjoys getting Stiles all bothered.

He smiles, the trademark one that makes everyone on the receiving end swoon. "So," picking up on his opener, he asks straightforwardly. "How long are you going to pretend that you don't see it?" His eyes slide pointedly at Stiles's clenched hand on the table.

Stiles jerks his hand away, hiding it from Theo's view. As if it changes anything. Theo chuckles because they both know that no matter where he shoves his hand, the other end of Theo's red string will always be tied around his finger - fixed, secured, undetachable. Unmistakable. Inescapable.

Stiles glares at him, and the fire in his eyes only makes him more mesmerizing. Honestly, his reactions only spur Theo further into the chase. It's like watching his favorite wildlife documentary on Animal Planet from the viewpoint of the wolf hunting its mate. The mate has no aversion to being mounted by the alpha wolf; it is anticipating it. But that doesn't mean they can't engage in a long bout of laborious foreplay first – the hunt. Stiles's viciousness is only a challenge for his worth.

"It's an outdated belief," Stiles mutters harshly, eyes darting to check that no one's within hearing distance, or is paying enough attention to them to figure anything amiss. "It doesn't mean anything."

"Tell that to Laura and her soulmate," Theo replies, grinning at the contempt on Stiles's face. "Whose, in case you missed it, prenuptial dinner we're currently attending."

Stiles barely contains the sound of frustration from escaping his lips when he sags onto his seat in an exasperated heap, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He lifts his head and trains his gaze in a particular direction in front, where Theo's family are, engaging in pleasantries with the future in-laws.

Theo can't stop the deep frown pulling at his expression when his eyes follow Stiles's line of sight and land on his adoptive brother, Derek. He and Theo didn't have the best relationship growing up, and the wedge between them has only grown exponentially wide since then. He loathes Derek for having everything that Theo didn't. For being the first choice, the sure choice, and never worrying about being tossed to the side. Because he had the legitimate claim to everything. Derek's the biological son of the parents that Theo respects more than any other; the biological brother of the sisters that Theo loves so dearly; and the heir of the wealth and properties of the Hales even before he was born. Theo was an intruder into their home, a charity case. Even though he's worked hard on his share of the business, or his space in their home, those weren't always meant for him. But this is – Stiles is. He is the one person that is for Theo alone. Derek can't have him, too.

Without looking away from Derek, Stiles breaks the charged silence that fell between them. "Well, I'm not going to ruin a perfect relationship just because you decided to show up in my life two years too late to unify the string I haven't cared about since I was nine." Stiles turns to Theo, who meets him, glare upon glare. "So whatever it is you're expecting to happen, stop. I love Derek, soulmate or not."

Theo fumes at Stiles's words, rage and jealousy pooling in his gut, and he wants to tear at something. Whenever Derek's involved, it's not difficult to stir Theo's anger and amp it 10 to 100 in a matter of seconds. But his anger is his drive. It's what pushes him forward to the goal. So, he arranges his expression to cold and unperturbed, often translated as insufferable, even cruel. It's not far from the truth.

"Famous last words," he smirks. Even he knows that the mockery in his voice is unmissable.

Stiles is taken aback, but he covers it immediately with a scathing look. He pushes bodily at his chair to stand. His face pinches into a scowl of genuine confusion to mix with his indignation. "I don't understand why you would be so determined to force this soulbond on us. Derek told me you don't even believe in soulmates. You're just doing this to scorn your brother."

"Maybe I am," Theo agrees easily, cocking his head sideways and pinning Stiles with a firm look. "Maybe I just want what's mine."

Stiles finally decides that he's had it with their conversation. Gnashing his teeth and flashing his eyes - again, mesmerizing - he retorts with all the menace he can muster without being too obvious. "I'm not yours." Giving no chance for a comeback, he turns his back and leaves Theo alone on the table.

Theo watches as Derek's face lights up when he receives Stiles in his arm, kissing him lightly on the lips and squeezing his waist affectionately before introducing him to the guests.

Theo picks up his abandoned glass and downs its content in one go. He licks his lips at the aftertaste and wishes it were something stronger – something that will complement the fury in his guts. Because he is furious, and it's stronger than it has ever been. And he will not be deterred by any boundaries.

His eyes fix on Stiles, on the glowing red string that extended and twisted upon their distance but has remained unbroken. Theo's driven and just a little unhinged. I'm not yours. He scoffs, catching Stiles's nervous glances, likely feeling the heat of Theo's emotions through their bond. Likely realizing that them? They're non-negotiable. Theo will make sure of that.

~•~

steo a-z: part 21

[voidstilesplease]

telltale

Word count: 1,592... the goal is less than 1k but- | Warning/s: none | Contains: HP Universe, magic, Slytherin!Stiles, Slytherin!Theo. Was going to make this a separate thing, but it's been a while for this tag, so.

---

Having a newly-turned werewolf best friend is taking a toll on Stiles and it's showing - but he's also not about to abandon Scott to his predicament. What kind of a best friend would that make him? So, he spends most of his time now helping Scott through the shift; in remaining semi-conscious even as the moon pulls at his sanity, and in adapting to the enhancements of his senses. Stiles even brews the monthly supply of Wolfsbane potion himself, in the old girl's lavatory in the presence of Moaning Myrtle - the worst tattletale ghost in history. Luckily, Stiles is an expert at bribery. You'd think it was impossible to bribe a girl who's been dead forever, but goes to show how little you know about the world.

Stiles knows what he's committing to is risky, and Salazar Slytherin would have sneered at his display of severe lack of self-preservation if he could, but it wouldn't make a proper Slytherin of him if he turned down a challenge he believes he can win. And he can win this. In fact, he's winning so competently he's perfecting his animagus form without proper training or legal consent - both of which are required for all witches and wizards who wish to become one. It's his way of showing solidarity to his best friend. If his friend transforms into an animal, then he transforms into an animal as well. Albeit, of all animals, he chose a fox, and foxes and wolves tend not to get along. But eh, that's all right. There hasn't been an accident anyway... yet. Also, he has always wanted to do something illegal just to prove that he can get away with it. He always does something illegal, yes, but, like, hosting illicit parties in the Slytherin Common Room has nothing on becoming an unregistered animagus, isn't that right? This thing with Scott is an excellent opportunity to broaden his horizon.

But it doesn't mean it's not without consequences on his social life, physicality (he's still fit, mind you, just lost a few pounds, is all), and most of all, his studies. He knows his chances of usurping the first rank from Lydia is borderline impossible, but he would damn well do everything not to be that far behind her. If he has to settle with second place, he will do so with a hairsbreadth of space between them and nothing more.

But goddamn if he isn't bedraggled, half-unconscious, bloody hungry, and terminally late to his potions class today. None of which would help his academic goal. He'll have to fight tooth and nail to get that 0.5 difference again.

He's lucky it's his Head of House, Professor Laura Hale's class and not Deaton's (who would purse his lips in disapproval, take 5 points from Slytherin, and look at him disappointedly the whole day), Professor Derek Hale's (he would huff and let his eyebrows speak the 10 points he'd take from Slytherin, and make Stiles the dummy for whatever curse they were demonstrating that day), or god forbid, Harris's (he would happily take 50 points from Slytherin without batting his eyelash then and there). Professor Laura would only turn her head away and pretend not to notice Stiles awkwardly sliding onto the seat beside his potions partner.

Merlin, his potions partner. Theo "I know what you've been up to and you better well know I'm gonna use it as leverage when the time comes" Raeken. He can't, for the life of him, guess how Theo knew about the animagus thing when he'd been so careful. Then again, Theo isn't a Slytherin if he doesn't have bags of tricks up his sleeves. Theo has repeatedly hinted that he's aware, and it's another thing that keeps Stiles up at night - well, more than usual. Theo already keeps Stiles up at night without trying. Theo hasn't blabbered yet - Stiles doesn't have to worry about that, at least - because a proper Slytherin would always go the blackmail route. Honestly, Stiles is only waiting for the shoe to drop. It's not like he doesn't have blackmail material of his own against his infuriating housemate. If Theo ever opens his stupid mouth, Stiles will call him out on his hypocrisy. Because apparently, there are two unregistered animagi in Slytherin.

Panting, he enters the room and immediately meets Professor Laura's eyes over the busy heads of his classmates. Wordlessly, she smoothly shifts her gaze away and turns her back to "check" on the progress (or lack thereof) of some Hufflepuff fellow as if she didn't at all notice Stiles by the entryway. Taking the chance (the hint is what it is), he crosses the room towards his partner and exhales loudly in his seat.

Theo is stirring the pot, the concoction quietly bubbling, as he smirks down at Stiles with an all-knowing look. "Long night?"

The git, the absolute bloody bastard. He probably slept the prescribed 8 hours, the prat. Albeit... an attractive one at that. But still the biggest git of all, of course. And, yeah, the most attractive git, loathe as he to admit it. But- Merlin, shut up. Shut up. He needs to bloody sleep and drop unconscious already. Or drown himself in firewhiskey and drop unconscious. For at least 15 hours straight.

Stiles sneers, looking for a clever slight to throw at Theo. He knows he can't insult his potions skills because he's actually decent at it, actually bloody good, the prick. And he can't pick on his appearance because, well, there is literally nothing to pick on about his outside everything, is there? Even that stupid slight graze on his left eyebrow looks fitting on him, like a fashion statement or something, and soon the Slytherin boys would go knicking themselves in their stupid eyebrows to copy him, to be half as echanting as him, to - Merlin. Shut up, for Salazar's sake.

Before Stiles can open his mouth, the onslaught of cedarwood, mint, and chocolate knocks his words back down his throat, and all he's able to do is inhale. Deep. With pleasure. With so much pleasure that it's an internal battle not to drop his eyelids and part his lips for a moan.

For seven years, Stiles has been haunted by it - sleeping so close to the boy who wears the scent that he can't eat a single bar of chocolate without thinking of Theo. It's both a blessing and a curse. Kinda cliche, but kinda true. Absolutely true. Also absolutely a secret.

So, he pulls his face into a sneer once more - as if his brain isn' melting into cedarwood, mint, and chocolate pudding - throwing a glare at his roommate. The long-time bane of his existence, long-time subject of his wanking fantasies (and disgustingly romantic daydreams, but Stiles is not about to address it because then he'll be admitting that shit's getting real), long-time crush. "None of your business," Stiles snaps. He'd like to add "eloquently", but it just isn't.

Theo only chuckles as if he already expected the reply. Or because he is immune to Stiles's attitude after dealing with it for years. Whichever it is, Theo's infuriatingly unaffected. It's so bloody distracting. He's so bloody distracting. Especially to a sleep-deprived Stiles who hasn't had enough rest, meal, or wank for far too long than reasonable.

"Well, make your tardy ass useful then and tell me if the potion smells like it's a flawless brew," he cocks his head sideways, lips slanting to an obnoxious smile, and adds, "Though, I already know it is."

Stiles scoffs (while he inwardly sings praises, because, damn if he isn't hot. Merlin, he needs to jerk off. Twice, in a row. Then drop unconscious. Wake up for dinner and masturbate twice more before bed most preferably). He glances down at the swirling mist coming from the pot and slides his unimpressed gaze back to Theo. "If I can smell anything at all over the entire bottle of cologne you poured on yourself today."

Theo looks taken aback for a moment, five heartbeats if Stiles is not wrong (he isn't) before his face breaks into the biggest, brightest grin Stiles has ever seen him make. Then he laughs heartily, genuinely; his eyes look extraordinarily joyful, and his neck even starts flushing. Stiles would've preened (he totally does inside. He caused that smile, okay?) if he didn't think that he probably did something embarrassing based on the absolute glee in Theo's reaction.

"Well," he drawls, still freakishly happy, like what in Merlin? He's a sight, yeah, bloody gorgeous, but Theo's happiness is usually in tandem with Stiles's distress, you see. It's perfectly rational to be suspicious. Then, Theo pins Stiles with a smug and satisfied look, saying, "I'm glad to know that's what amortentia potion smells like to you."

The statement gives Stiles a pause - more than a pause, he freezes - and he gapes while processing it. It doesn't take more than a few seconds for it to hit him.

Amortentia. Love potion. Today's task is Amortentia - a potion that smells different to each person, depending on what attracts them. And he's just announced that the air around him is basically marinating in Theo's bloody cologne. Salazar bloody Slytherin.

Stiles never imagined ever stooping so low but let it be known that what he does next, he will bring to his grave as his biggest disgrace.

Taking out his wand swift as lightning, he points it to himself for the easy way out. With a murmured spell, he grants his wish and knocks himself unconscious.

His idiocy is future Stiles's problem now. He'll stay bloody asleep for 15 hours straight, thank you very much.

~•~

steo a-z: part 20

[voidstilesplease]

omega

---

"You'd never catch me."

That had always been Stiles's gibe since they were children playing chase in the playground. He was always quick to move, agile, a whirlwind of limbs, a natural sprinter. Theo's parents had always thought Stiles would present as an Alpha when he turned the right age - an Alpha who could outrun any Omega of his choosing when they eventually participated in the Mating Run.

"You'd never catch me."

That was what he told Theo during track in middle school when he finished first in every single race - earning the admiration and regard of many. Stiles would be the first to emerge with his mate in the Mating Run, Theo had heard many predict.

"You'd never catch me."

Stiles had smirked at him on the lacrosse field in high school. He wasn't engrossed with the sport, but he took pleasure in the futile hunt after him. Running was entertainment to him at this point. Theo had stopped taking it seriously long ago, but Stiles still made it his task to get a rise out of him - and besting Theo in the end.

"It's probably an odd Alpha instinct, you know, manifesting unknowingly." Josh had commented one evening as Theo shamelessly stalked Kira's social media, Stiles's best friend, for the boy himself did not bother with one. Josh had thrown a pillow to his face to get an acknowledgment. "It means he thinks you're a rival for something."

Theo had fixed him with a withering glare, and Josh cowed with a light shrug.

Whatever it was - they wouldn't even be certain about their classifications until the day they present - Stiles's constant provocation was not exactly unwelcome. Theo rather found himself preening on the attention and heeding Stiles's dares - and even when Theo lost, he still swelled with pride deep inside when it should be a wave of instinctive anger for the slight.

And as the days rolled forward to his presentation, Theo even began recognizing his desire for Stiles. Theo craved him. He wanted to hog all his attention - the witty remarks, the sarcastic retorts, the cloaked flattery, and subtle flirtations. His inner animal would growl in protest when the object of his affection attended another until unwanted scents would linger - and Theo was left in desperation to howl his disapproval. He just knew it was wrong, like he breathed polluted air, even if he didn't understand it then. Theo wouldn't even care if they both presented as Alphas. It was uncommon but not unheard of. There was also still a chance they were Betas.

But it wasn't much of a surprise when Theo did present as an Alpha. It was the opposite when Stiles presented as an Omega.

To Theo, it instantly made sense - like a long-buried knowledge that surfaced to answer a present question. To Stiles, it was as if he knew it from the beginning.

There was no staggering shift in demeanor, no sudden submissiveness or fragility even when nothing and everything changed after that. Stiles wore his Omega like a trophy, using his more evident allure to sway people to his favor - something he was already an expert in doing way before. Everyone thought Alphas were the most dangerous of their kind. They had not met an Omega like Stiles.

"You'd never catch me."

He teased as he nipped the lobe of Theo's ear. They were inside Theo's truck parked in a secluded lot, meeting for passionate kisses in the dark. The way they fell into each other was as natural as the river flowing to the sea - it was a long course, but an inevitable one.

Tomorrow was the Mating Run - their first, with the goal for it to be their last.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Theo whispered back, drawing his Omega into his lap.

Stiles laughed softly as Theo peppered kisses on his beauty marks, arms coming up to curl around his Alpha's shoulders. "Oh?" He asked with a playful tone. "And why is that?"

Theo pulled back just enough for their eyes to meet. Theo flashed his red irises, "Because I've had years of practice for this day."

Stiles's replied in kind, eyes lighting up in gold fire. "I won't make it easy just because I want you to catch me."

"You don't have to," Theo purred, head dipping to nuzzle the space between Stiles's neck and shoulder. Theo sucked tenderly on the skin where he would stake his claim. "Run like you've been doing all your life.

And I'll run as I've never done in mine."

~•~

steo a-z: part 15

[voidstilesplease]

quicksilver

word count: 1,094 words// off the target count, hence the cut >_<

---

"I can't stress enough how dangerous this is, Stiles."

Stiles looks up from the chart he's perusing to Parrish, the Deputy Head of Security in the facility, and the deep creases on his forehead. His hands are poised on his hips, and he fixes Stiles with a look of consternation. With Stiles's father, the Head of Security, away to a classified conference with the Mayor and the town's Chief of Police, Parrish has taken it upon himself to fill in the role of an overbearing parent to a 25-year-old adult.

"We've talked about this," He replies evenly, turning back to the chart in his hand. He's read the reports enough times to commit everything to memory, but he pretends to scan the papers and make additional notes on the side. "I have Deaton's approval."

But Parrish doesn't relent. "He's a Class A criminal," he reminds Stiles for an indeterminable time that day, stepping closer in hopes of making Stiles see reason. "A felon with counts of murders including his own sister-"

"And he's deranged," Stiles interrupts with a sharp edge to his voice. He's done the routine check with other patients before, even without the Head psychiatrist, and Parrish never made this much fuss. "Which is what I specialize in."

Parrish exhales, head falling into his hand in defeat. After rubbing at the bridge of his nose, Parrish's hand falls back to the side, and he gives Stiles a pained look. "I do not doubt that you know what you're doing," he says in a calmer tone. "But this patient, Theo Raeken, has a mad glint in his eyes when you're in the same room. He's unhinged."

"We work in a supernatural asylum for insane criminals," Stiles deadpans. "Being unhinged is the last thing to be surprised about."

Parrish's response gets cut off by the familiar beep permitting access into the room, followed by the loud screeching of the metal doors sliding to the sides.

Six other guards come into view, completely dressed in their black uniforms and anti-riot body armor, carrying assault and sniper rifles. One of them pushes the wheelchair on which the patient, Theo Raeken, is seated bound by his wrists and ankles in thick cuffs connected to a heavyweight belly chain. The shackles are infused with aconite and typically cause discomfort to the prisoners, but not Theo. Where others twitch restlessly and cry in agony, Theo only looks cold and unfazed behind the muzzle covering his mouth and nose.

When Stiles's eyes meet his, Theo's head slants to the side, and even with half of his face hidden, Stiles knows he is smiling in amusement underneath. It's true, what Parrish said. Theo does have a special look he reserves only for Stiles. Which is why Stiles cannot be blamed for giving in to his curiosity. So far, Theo has not lied to him.

Theo's wheelchair gets parked about five feet away from Stiles's office desk, and it's only with an assuring smile that Parrish finally nods grimly, says, "I will not be far," and turns his rigid back to leave the office along with the other escorts.

Two of them will stand just outside the doors of Stiles's office. Another two will stay a few meters on either side of the hall, on the lookout for a possible escape situation, while the last two will remain by the two exit points on either ends of the long hallway, along with the security already stationed there. Parrish will be on the little backroom on one exit, observing through the cameras located all over Stiles's office.

Stiles has deep knowledge of how the security works, thanks to his dad. And for doctor-patient confidentiality, there are no microphones attached to the security cameras. All of these will play to his advantage for what he's about to do.

Stiles walks to his desk, facing Theo's still smiling eyes. He focuses on looking as calm and collected outside, as it's a pandemonium inside him. Which only adds to the mirth on Theo's expression. He smells everything that Stiles feels, hears the clamor in his chest when Theo's around. Of course, Theo would have a mad glint in his eyes when Stiles is in the room. How could he not, when his psychiatrist is everything but scared of him - everything that cannot be spoken aloud to anyone.

"The last time we spoke," Stiles starts on to the point, "you told me about the modified mercury that the scientists who abducted you injected into the bodies of their experiment subjects throughout the years, including you."

Theo only quirks a brow.

"Also, that you know how exactly the mercury is modified. You gave me specific calculations in a coded message."

Theo's cold blue eyes gleamed in delight. As if saying: I knew you would understand.

"Your statements in the report are also coded," Stiles claims confidently, and he knows he's right. Theo's been telling him everything the reports don't know since the beginning, seducing him with secret words. He never spoke to any of the previous psychiatrists assigned to his case until Stiles. When he heard the jackrabbiting of his heart from the first time they met - and not out of fear. "You claim the mercury makes you weak. For you to remain docile to your captors."

Stiles leans into the table. "But the mercury transformed you in the first place. With the right dosage, it enhances your strength, ignites your powers into motion. Like a drug."

Theo only nods once.

"Why me?" Stiles asks after a period of contemplative silence.

Theo responds with a slight shrug and a pointed look in his eyes. "You're the only one smart enough to catch on, aren't you?" they seem to say.

After a moment of deliberation, in which everywhere inside him is in chaos, protesting, Stiles walks around his desk, pushes Theo to the examination table, and assists him onto it. Theo doesn't take his eyes off him as Stiles carefully removes the muzzle from his face.

Parrish must already be on his feet, ready to bust through the doors to no avail. Stiles has already activated self-containment, and it will take the security about ten minutes to override the controls. By then, it's already done.

Because something so beautiful and exceptional shouldn't be shackled in chains and forced into submission. Theo has powers that do not bend to the supernatural rules. He should be free.

Stiles takes out the syringe he prepared for this meeting, giving his own soft smile, as he pushes the mercury into Theo's bloodstream.

~•~

steo a-z: part 17

[voidstilesplease]

philtatos

---

"I had a vision."

Theo turns his head to Stiles, whose eyes are fixed on the starless sky he insisted they watch tonight. His face is the picture of serene, unlike the heavens brewing storm over them. For a moment, Theo loses himself in the pattern of moles on Stiles's skin and thinks that the sky is empty because the stars descended on his face. When the silence stretches, Theo finally remembers to speak. "You always have visions."

It is true. Stiles is a seer, a rare ability among modern mages - and mages already are uncommon. Because of this, he is a prized ally of the Raeken clan - Theo refused to think of him as a weapon, despite what his parents say. But more than that, he is Theo's closest companion.

Stiles did not show him contempt even as the only reason he is with the Raekens is because he was forcefully snatched from his parents' arms the night Theo's clan was banished from Beacon Hills after a failed coup d'etat. Stiles grew up far from home with a fallen-from-grace werewolf clan, as Theo's parents planned the details of their revenge and rising while hidden among humans. Despite knowing all of this, he never treated Theo any less. They are partners - Stiles fights with his magic and Theo with his strength and claws. They are a team, always have been, always will.

Now, 12 years later, his parents have gathered a considerable force and are discussing their siege on the glamoured town of Beacon Hills - the fortified haven of the strongest werewolf clans. They are determined to take over the town's government that they believe is their birthright - the first Mayor was a Raeken.

Stiles hums a soft sound, turning to Theo. The dampness of the grass they are lying on begins to seep into Theo's clothes, but it is not why he shivers. The previous tranquility of Stiles's expression shatters like a cheap mask to display much genuine anguish. "True. But this time, it's of you."

Theo furrows his brows as dread crawls up his skin. Stiles has spoken about many visions in the past but never one that includes Theo - it is an omen. Hesitantly, he asks. "What did you see?"

"War," Stiles replies solemnly. "With Beacon Hills. Two nights from now."

Theo exhales a shuddering breath at the answer. Stiles has already seen the war before, but never the when. All they knew was that it's drawing near. But Theo didn't presume it's looming just above their heads.

Stiles continues as Theo rises to a sitting position and tangling his fingers through his hair. Stiles's light eyes are dim now, overcast like the sky. "I saw that we would win," he says. "But also that you'd never witness that."

Theo's heartbeat climbs erratically, blood turning cold. "Are you saying-"

"You're going to die," Stiles whispers over the breeze, his hair swaying in the wind though it's no time to dance. "After you murder a clan Alpha named Scott."

Silence hangs in the space between them as Theo tries to calm himself enough to utter words after such a revelation. Theo has never thought of dying in that war - he has never cared for taking over a town that he only saw from a distance. And he is supposed to die fighting so that his parents can claim an office and political titles?

"Then I'll-" Theo stammers, throat dry. "I won't fight. We won't fight." He scrambles closer, taking Stiles's hand in his, searching his eyes desperately. "We'll run away. Say you'll run away with me."

Stiles draws himself upright, clutching Theo's hand just as tightly. But the grief in his eyes is palpable - already a verdict. "I will go wherever you go," he tells Theo earnestly. "But there is no way around it, Theo. It's why I never told you. But you deserve to know."

Theo exhales shakily after another period of weighty silence, his entire body going numb. The only warmth he feels is from where he's holding Stiles - an anchor. Stiles squeezes their fingers together, urging Theo to meet his eyes. Stiles's eyes are laden with immense sadness, but Theo still draws strength from them. "Then," he starts again, voice hardening. "I won't fight Scott. I won't seek him in the field. If I avoid him, then I won't have to kill him." Theo nods to his reasonable plan. "I mean, what has this Scott ever done to me, right?"

Stiles looks like his world is collapsing, but he nods and smiles, "Right."

***

But Stiles has already seen it. He has seen the werewolves coming for him, taking him back to Beacon in the dead of night, keeping him hostage, chaining his hands with iron, wounding him with poison iron, the Raekens arriving to stake their claim on the town, the war, Theo front lining them, rescuing Stiles, making him wear Theo's wolfsbane bulletproof vest against special and ordinary bullets alike, Scott mistaking him for Theo, slashing his throat deep... and dropping to the ground dead.

"What has this Scott ever done to me, right?" Theo will soon regrettably find out.

~•~

steo a-z: part 16

[voidstilesplease]

serendipity

cw: mention of attempted suicide

---

They stand on the rooftop of the Di Angelo Hotel, a luxury hotel 10 miles outside of Beacon Hills, gazing up at the starless sky and waiting for heaven's doors to welcome Theo home.

Stiles lowers his eyes, turning to Theo, who's scanning the space above for any indication from his father. Theo's face is blank, eyes unfocused, except for the small furrow of his brows. His hands are clenched inside the pockets of his trench coat, a gift from Stiles when he had expressed his desire to wear it after seeing a show with an angel wearing one. Theo had looked bizarre, out of place as nobody wore trench coats around Beacon Hills, but the wide grin, the smug satisfaction that he looked amazing in it, rendered Stiles's initial opinion inconsequential. Stiles will miss that smile.

They didn't speak on the way there, having already said their farewell yesterday when Theo's father sent his congratulations on earning his wings back after serving months of probation on earth doing heavenly missions. They gave silent nods of acknowledgment that their time together was over. Apparently, angels have been cast down to the mortal world for eons as punishment. They walk among humans, stripped of their wings, working their way back into heaven by accomplishing missions set forth by the Archangel. Theo has served his time, and now it's time for him to go home.

The corners of his eyes are stinging, and only then does Stiles realize that he's biting hard on his lower lip, trying to breathe evenly as he memorizes Theo's features one last time. The way his fringe falls on his eyes, the point of his nose, the shape of his jaws when he clenches them, the blue of his irises always so ethereal... If only Stiles can capture Theo's likeness in a photograph that he can carry with him after this. But he can't. Theo vanishes in pictures, as he will vanish without a trace soon. There's nothing of his that Stiles can hold onto apart from the months of memories they shared. But even those may not last, too.

Theo finally looks down at Stiles, forehead creasing in worry at the look on Stiles's face.

"That night," Stiles says before Theo can say anything. "I came on this rooftop with thoughts of ending my life." The confession comes out of him like the release of air he's been holding for so long. He never wanted to speak of it before - who would? But he can't let Theo go without letting him know. "My father had just been killed in action two months prior, and I got suspended from the force for misconduct. I couldn't hold my liquor, and I started every kind of fight with my co-workers."

Theo's attention is rapt on his every word with no attempt to interrupt him or look at him with pity. He only listens.

"It was Abby's birthday, Lydia's daughter, and they held it here. I couldn't-" his voice begins to break. "They convinced me to come, but I couldn't take all the merriment. I was out of my apartment for the first time in weeks, but I still couldn't get out of my head."

Stiles looks at his hand, at the scar that runs from his palm down to his wrist; the one he got when he jumped back from the ledge, the skin catching on barb wires, to investigate the object that had just fallen from the sky, a ball of light and fire it seemed, that created a hole on the rooftop floor and shook the entire building. A reminder that he almost did - that he didn't. He lifts his head again, laughing faintly, "You fell at the right time, Theo."

Theo takes the step that closes their gap, standing in front of Stiles with inches to spare between them. They've stood like this before, just on the precipice before stepping back. But not this time. "I will fall once more," Theo says, the words rolling in his tongue, his voice thick with a language he only learned to say not too long ago. "If it means you do not."

Stiles leans forward, his eyelids closing, to brush his lips against Theo's. And for a moment, they stay like that until Theo presses his mouth more firmly on Stiles for a proper kiss, with the latter opening his mouth in welcome. They move together, dancing for the first time to the music they've been playing for a while now. Their hands touch each other, finding their rightful places to hold the other close, tight, just a little longer.

"You saved me," Stiles whispers against Theo's lips, his eyelashes damp as he peers up to the angel.

Theo smiles, "As you saved me."

Stiles gasps at the sudden blinding light erupting from Theo, forcing his eyes shut again. There's scorching heat everywhere, white flames engulfing Theo's body, but Stiles isn't hurt at all. He hears a loud blow of air, an invisible force embracing his entire body - like a shield, protection - followed by the soft drop of a kiss on his forehead.

It only takes a few seconds. As quickly as the light came, it's quicker to disappear. And the next time Stiles opens his eyes, he is alone on the rooftop.

.

.

He doesn't remember why, but he doesn't wish to fall anymore.

~•~

steo a-z: part 19

[voidstilesplease]

nemesis

---

For as long as he remembers, Stiles was always meant to marry his sister. Being firstborns of two allied kingdoms, the arrangement was quick to be agreed upon. Prince Stiles, as he likes to be called as opposed to his birth name, had always been part of Prince Theo's life - they were going to be brothers when he and Princess Tara wedded after all. But for as long as he remembers, Theo has hated Stiles.

Before he even laid eyes on the prince for the first time, when they were both ten and Tara twelve, when the prince had crossed the seas to visit his betrothed in her kingdom, Theo had already despised him - the existence of him. His father, the king, always praised Prince Stiles's expertise in diplomatic relations even at his young age and the silver of his tongue when addressing even the foreign courts. He was also not bad in combat. He was a future ruler worthy of every effort of an alliance - the regard he constantly liked to remind Theo. That Stiles was someone to emulate.

So Theo grew up trying to surpass someone he had never met. That when he did, he only ever thought him a rival - someone to beat. Theo provoked him, challenged him, grew obsessed with finding his flaw. He loathed that Tara had forged a bond with him, that he had won the approval of the court, that he had befriended everyone in the castle but Theo, even if it was his own doing. Theo hated that he did not have the attention of the one person that plagued his mind to no end. More so, he hated that the harder he coveted victory against Stiles, he only fell deeper into his defeat.

His obsession had taken a different course when, out of spite for losing another spar and being goaded by Theo for not using his smarts to distract an opponent, Stiles had spun and grabbed Theo's face and pressed their lips together for a surprisingly soft kiss. Theo was still stunned when Stiles pulled back with a satisfied smile, blown irises, and rose-tinted cheeks, pointing the business rear of his sword against Theo's throat - yet again, emerging with the upper hand.

But he did not plan for revenge like other times. No, Theo coveted something else after that - and like all the rest of his thoughts about Stiles before it, he could not stop. He could not forget the desperation in their breaths when they kissed again for the second time - not meant as a ploy but the response to honest curiosity. All the years of frustration in the sting of their fingernails against each other's skin - how could you stop drinking when you've been thirsty for so long without realizing it, and the taste of water was a necessity?

You can't. You just become addicted to stealing secret pleasures with your sister's husband.

~•~

steo a-z: part 14