#the Hale Pack Moves to London

[takaraphoenix]

Oh, when I first wrote it, it was more on the fic's vibe, I didn't mean for it to become a thing, but at this point I am deeply invested in the concept of the Hale Pack moving to London.

It's just so... clean? Like, the McCall Pack has all the Canon Plot Shit happen in Beacon Hills, but the Hale Pack got written off one by one.

And the first one was Jackson, who left for London.

So for Peter, Derek and Cora who would not fucking leave her brother again after they just got reunited and he literally gave up his Alpha Spark to save her damn life, thank you very much, to leave for some place and, with no real place they all have a connection to, to go to London, where Derek's first beta was living? Why not. Pack bonds.

And when Chris and Isaac leave Beacon Hills, why shouldn't they end up in London too later on, after Isaac hears about the slow gathering of Hale Pack.

Additionally, I have developed the headcanon that Boyd and Erica did run away together and are just bouncing from pack to pack. Until they hear about the reforming Hale Pack and, with the time they all had to heal and grow, finding their permanent place with them.

Every member of the Hale Pack was written out of this show and I will be damned if I don't keep them together. And sure! Keeping them in Beacon Hills and having both packs side by side is an option, but... quite frankly? After all the fucking trauma and grief and loss this town has cost them all? Fuck it. Start new somewhere else. Especially when your family's territory has been taken over by a teenager, you deserve to not have to be witness to that, you deserve to leave and start anew in a new place and grow and heal.

Watch me make "the Hale Pack Moves to London" a proper damn tag on AO3, even if I have to do it alone.

[serial-serializednovelreader]

Nova’s Notes - North and South Weekly - Chapter 6

In which the Hale family says goodbye to Helstone….

The poem at the beginning, which is part of a larger poem known as In Memoriam, really sets the scene for a lovely place like Helstone and what’s it means to leave it. The larger poem’s theme is about understanding and working through grief — a fitting theme for this chapter.

“The rooms had a strange echoing sound in them,—and the light came harshly and strongly in through the uncurtained windows,—seeming already unfamiliar and strange.”

I love how Gaskell captures the surreal feeling of seeing a place you’ve lived in, now empty. It is strange to hear more echoes (due to the lack of furniture — acoustics, am I right?) and every room gaining more brightness from the windows with no curtains. When this happens, it feels almost as if you, in the simple act of moving furniture and other objects of living out, have removed all of the life out of it as well. It is a very strange feeling and it’s one I’m glad Gaskell touches on!

“Mrs. Hale’s dressing-room was left untouched to the last; and there she and Dixon were packing up clothes, and interrupting each other every now and then to exclaim at, and turn over with fond regard, some forgotten treasure, in the shape of some relic of the children while they were yet little. They did not make much progress with their work.”

I know they have work to do, but this is such a sweet image. And I’m glad Mrs. Hale is at least given a bit of time to look over — and think about — old memories with the children. It’s nice :) and relatable, I’m the same way with my old stuff lol.

“Down-stairs, Margaret stood calm and collected, ready to counsel or advise the men who had been called in to help the cook and Charlotte. These two last, crying between whiles, wondered how the young lady could keep up so this last day, and settled it between them that she was not likely to care much for Helstone, having been so long in London.”

Yikes, so once again, Margaret is judged by an expression she has on her face. As if everyone expresses emotion the same way!!! Also, Charlotte is the same maid who caught Margaret crying two weeks ago so…what about that? She obviously knew why (you can’t tell me she didn’t — news travels fast in a house as small as that, and I’m almost certain Dixon said something about that being the reason for crying), so it’s pretty unfeeling of them to judge her for not crying when she’s working to get her household moved practically on her own!!!

This also made me notice something: we’ve seen characters come to the wrong conclusion about someone else’s thoughts or feelings a few times now in this book, including our protagonist. Margaret is the only one so far who has rethought her judgement and came to the correct conclusion upon second reflection. I’m not sure if that’s going to be a running theme, but it’s something I want to keep an eye on! It’s definitely something that stands out to me about Margaret’s character and judgement, that’s for sure.

“They could not understand how her heart was aching all the time, with a heavy pressure that no sighs could lift off or relieve, and how constant exertion for her perceptive faculties was the only way to keep herself from crying out with pain. Moreover, if she gave way, who was to act? Her father was examining papers, books, registers, what not, in the vestry with the clerk; and when he came in, there were his own books to pack up, which no one but himself could do to his satisfaction. Besides, was Margaret one to give way before strange men, or even household friends like the cook and Charlotte? Not she!”

I love this peek into her logic for not crying. I immediately figured she was trying to keep it together in order to make the move go smoothly, but I always love her inner voice. She’s so determined and braver than I think she gives herself credit for :))) and interesting note that she won’t cry in front of her “household friends”. I’m probably reaching here, but could this be tied to when she was silenced by that maid all those years ago in Harley Street? Or simply because she won’t cry in front of anyone except her family? Hmm…

“a robin was singing,—perhaps, Margaret thought, the very robin that her father had so often talked of as his winter pet, and for which he had made, with his own hands, a kind of robin-house by his study-window.”

This is cute! And sad. It’s always the little things you think of when saying goodbye to a home :(((

“Margaret went along the walk under the pear-tree wall. She had never been along it since she paced it at Henry Lennox’s side. Her eyes were on that late-blowing rose as she was trying to answer; and she had caught the idea of the vivid beauty of the feathery leaves of the carrots in the very middle of his last sentence”

I know she’s been busy since Lennox’s departure, but her not coming back to this spot feels intentional to me…eep!

Also, love that she sees part of the garden and remembers a specific part of his conversation. Memories are so often like that and Gaskell is masterful at putting this relatable experience to paper. I once asked a professor why she enjoyed studying the classics so much, and she told me it was because she could sometimes feel like the authors were speaking to just her, across the time and space of so many years. This is one of those times I know just what she means!

“Even now, while she walked sadly through that damp and drear garden in the dusk, with everything falling and fading, and turning to decay around her, he might be gladly putting away his law-books after a day of satisfactory toil, and freshening himself up, as he had told her he often did, by a run in the Temple Gardens, taking in the while the grand inarticulate mighty roar of tens of thousands of busy men, nigh at hand, but not seen, and catching ever, at his quick turns, glimpses of the lights of the city coming up out of the depths of the river. He had often spoken to Margaret of these hasty walks, snatched in the intervals between study and dinner. At his best times and in his best moods had he spoken of them; and the thought of them had struck upon her fancy.”

I love how it’s a quirky little detail like this that Margaret touches on and thinks of fondly. I often wonder what my friends remember about the stories I tell them!

Suddenly, Margaret hears a “stealthy, creeping, cranching sound”. She “knows” it to be a poacher that she has no fear of but…

“to-night she was afraid, she knew not why. She heard Charlotte shutting the windows, and fastening up for the night, unconscious that any one had gone out into the garden. A small branch—it might be of rotten wood, or it might be broken by force—came heavily down in the nearest part of the forest; Margaret ran, swift as Camilla, down to the window, and rapped at it with a hurried tremulousness which startled Charlotte within.”

I can’t blame her: I’d be spooked too!!! I think this also speaks to the larger issue of Margaret no longer feeling comfortable here: with the house being unfamiliar all packed up, is it any wonder she finds the outside noises, once so normal, strange as well?

“Margaret sat down on the rug, partly to warm herself, for the dampness of the evening hung about her dress, and over-fatigue had made her chilly. She kept herself balanced by clasping her hands together round her knees; her head dropped a little towards her chest; the attitude was one of despondency, whatever her frame of mind might be. But when she heard her father’s step on the gravel outside, she started up, and hastily shaking her heavy black hair back, and wiping a few tears away that had come on her cheeks she knew not how, she went out to open the door for him. He showed far more depression than she did. She could hardly get him to talk, although she tried to speak on subjects that would interest him, at the cost of an effort every time which she thought would be her last.”

Poor Margaret! Here she is, so despondent and melancholy herself, yet the minute she hears her father, she immediately straightens up and tries to act cheerful for his sake. How long can she keep this up?

I’m going to put this through a neurodivergent lens again, but this time it’s more metaphorical. So, for many ND people, they often have to “mask” themselves in order to fit into neurotypical society. This can include things like eye contact, saying things they don’t feel, pretending to express an emotion they’re not actually feeling at the moment, and more. At best, it’s exhausting and uncomfortable. At worst, it can lead to questioning sense of self and burnout. Margaret is, more and more often, putting up a kind of “mask” and setting aside how she feels about leaving Helstone. She had to do it when her father initially told her, she did it for her mother (all day, no less!), then Dixon (when she interrupted her crying session), for the mover and her household friends (love that term fyi), and now for her father again. At some point, something will have to give way and she will need to express her real feelings. Luckily, she has been able to deal with some of her emotions in private, but she has been interrupted and forced to quell it every time, which is not good! I’m worried she’s going to burn herself out if she keeps this up.

Margaret asks what her father has been up to and finally gets an answer:

“‘I went to see Widow Maltby; she is sadly grieved at not having wished you good-bye. She says little Susan has kept watch down the lane for days past.—Nay, Margaret, what is the matter, dear?’ The thought of the little child watching for her, and continually disappointed—from no forgetfulness on her part, but from sheer inability to leave home—was the last drop in poor Margaret’s cup, and she was sobbing away as if her heart would break. Mr. Hale was distressingly perplexed. He rose, and walked nervously up and down the room. Margaret tried to check herself, but would not speak until she could do so with firmness.”

And so the dam breaks. I might have spoken a bit too soon, but it still needed to be said. Again, poor Margaret :(((((( I would be crushed at hearing this too!!! Mr. Hale, why are you surprised she’s upset??? Of course she’s upset!!! I guess he doesn’t understand how long she’s been holding it in. I just want to give her a warm blanket and hugs (if she likes hugs).

“She heard him talking, as if to himself.

“‘I cannot bear it. I cannot bear to see the sufferings of others. I think I could go through my own with patience. Oh, is there no going back?’”

So, the first time Margaret cried and then sadly wished for this to be a dream, you told her (basically) to get over it and that she needed to be brave, your mind was made up — and now you’re moved to change your mind??? What happened??? It’s a little late, buddy!!!!

“‘No, father,’” said Margaret, looking straight at him, and speaking low and steadily. ‘It is bad to believe you in error. It would be infinitely worse to have known you a hypocrite.’ She dropped her voice at the last few words, as if entertaining the idea of hypocrisy for a moment in connection with her father savoured of irreverence.

“‘Besides,’ she went on, ‘it is only that I am tired to-night; don’t think that I am suffering from what you have done, dear papa. We can’t either of us talk about it to-night, I believe,’ said she, finding that tears and sobs would come in spite of herself.’”

Margaret :((((((((( she’s right though, he’s spoken to the entire village of his plans at this point, to go back now would make him look pretty bad! Also, the need to tell him she’s not suffering from his choices…when we know the opposite to be true 😭😭😭 she’s too good for both of these parents sometimes, I hope they appreciate how good of a daughter they have. Don’t get me wrong — they have their good moments — but she is so kind and giving!!! And she seems to get so little in return for that at times, at least in this moment.

Also, yeah, I can tell she’s emotionally draining herself to the limit because she’s starting to cry despite her holding it in. Speaking from personal experience, that’s not good!

“A sting at Margaret’s heart made her strive to look out to catch the last glimpse of the old church tower at the turn where she knew it might be seen above a wave of the forest trees; but her father remembered this too, and she silently acknowledged his greater right to the one window from which it could be seen. She leant back and shut her eyes, and the tears welled forth, and hung glittering for an instant on the shadowing eyelashes before rolling slowly down her cheeks, and dropping, unheeded, on her dress.”

Again, another example of her being so selfless. Oh Margaret, things will get better :((((

“Poor Mrs. Hale had cried in her way nearly all day long; and Dixon showed her sorrow by extreme crossness, and a continual irritable attempt to keep her petticoats from even touching the unconscious Mr. Hale, whom she regarded as the origin of all this suffering.”

LOLLLL that’s so petty of Dixon. I could analyze this to oblivion but…you know what? I’ll let her have this one. It’s funny and doesn’t really harm anyone — Mr. Hale’s literally asleep.

When they get to London, Mrs. Hale is remembering all of the places the last time she visited, but she also points out to Margaret: HENRY LENNOX?!?!?

LOL, that’s so funny he’s just *right there* when she gets into London. Would some people call this cliche? Perhaps. I call it “seeing the exact person you don’t want to see/maybe do (it’s complicated) at the exact wrong time” phenomenon. It happens to everyone.

“Margaret started forwards, and as quickly fell back, half-smiling at herself for the sudden motion. They were a hundred yards away by this time; but he seemed like a relic of Helstone—he was associated with a bright morning, an eventful day, and she should have liked to have seen him, without his seeing her,—without the chance of their speaking.”

She’s so real for that. Keep the memory good, Margaret! Who knows what he would’ve said had he actually spoken to you.

“They alone seemed strange and friendless, and desolate. Yet within a mile, Margaret knew of house after house, where she for her own sake, and her mother for her aunt Shaw’s, would be welcomed, if they came in gladness, or even in peace of mind. If they came sorrowing, and wanting sympathy in a complicated trouble like the present, then they would be felt as a shadow in all these houses of intimate acquaintances, not friends. London life is too whirling and full to admit of even an hour of that deep silence of feeling which the friends of Job showed, when ‘they sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and none spake a word unto him; for they saw that his grief was very great.’”

Very true!!! “Laugh and the world laughs with you; weep and you weep alone”. You know who your real friends are because they will help you through times of grief, not treat you like a “shadow”. I think the fact that Margaret instinctively knows they would be treated that way at all of the places she thinks of tells me they’re not true friends and she knows that, even if she won’t fully admit it. And quoting Job to cap off the chapter is very telling of how grieved she feels!!

That’s all for this chapter (on time for once — yay!). Hopefully, they’ll have a bit of a better time in the next chapter.

[ao3feed-peterstiles]

Stealing Him Away

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/60544912 by Takara_Phoenix After the Nogitsune killed Allison, Peter and Chris left Beacon Hills, so Peter could pick up the pieces, both of his mate and of the Hale Pack. After he regained his Alpha status and was assured that Chris was doing better, the mated pair returns to Beacon Hills. Peter had thought Stiles would be fine, with his own pack, would be healing. He's appalled by the state Stiles is in when they arrive to take their boy away. Words: 20419, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M, Multi Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Chris Argent, Derek Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Cora Hale, Malia Tate, Kira Yukimura, Sheriff Stilinski Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Malia Tate/Kira Yukimura, Stiles Stilinski & Everyone Additional Tags: Slash, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M, Established Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Married Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Stiles deals with his Nogitsune Trauma, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is Pushed Out of Scott McCall's Pack, Bad Pack Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Hurt/Comfort, The Hale Pack Moves to London, Pack Alpha Peter Hale, every tagged character ends up in the Hale Pack, Stiles Stilinski Leaves Beacon Hills, Everyone Loves Stiles Stilinski, Erica Reyes Lives, Vernon Boyd Lives, Vernon Boyd and Erica Reyes Live, Slow Burn, Healing, really centric on the recovery aspect, also on the pack, Hale Pack, Pack Feels Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/60544912

[nightingale2004]

Teen wolf next generation: Jackson x Ethan version

Aiden Robert Steiner Whittemore

Faceclaim: Spencer List

He and his twin sister were adopted by Jackson and Ethan in London

Oldest twin by a few minutes

He takes after Ethan

Like Jackson, he is a Kanima, but he is not a hybrid

He loves his sister but always has to keep her grounded when she loses it

Part of the Hale pack

They used to live in London until his family moved to Beacon Hills when he and his sister were kids and got closer to both the McCall pack and the Hale pack

On the lacrosse team

More strategic than physical

×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×_×

Emily Valentina Steiner Whittemore

Faceclaim: Peyton list

Younger twin

She takes after Jackson

She is aggressive and has a bad temper

She's a werewolf like Ethan

She and her brother are the protectors of the Hale pack

She plays lacrosse and goes to the Dunbar gym in Beacon Hills as an outlet for her anger

She also goes to anger management

[plotbunnybreeder]

The Price of Free Will

Harry Potter/Teen Wolf crossover

Death's next mission is sent to its Master through oh-so-enlightening dreams of a tree stump. Harry juggles interpreting this new assignment with helping his recently-graduated godson find their purpose in life, when Teddy brings home a "muggle werewolf" who knows where Harry's mysterious tree stump is.

Pairings:

Harry Potter/Chris Argent/Peter Hale

Victoire Delacour-Weasley/Jackson Whittemore

Teddy Lupin/Stiles Stillinski

Bullet Point Plot Bunny Breakdown:

Through Teddy & Victoire's friendship (and after refusing to get back together with Ginny), Harry gets closer to Bill, Fleur, & Charlie over time

Harry is Master of Death and tasked with eliminating entities who attempt to maliciously defy Death aka Death-Defiers (Harry finds Death's targets to be subjective and primarily rooted in whether or not Death feels offended by them, and argues whenever he believes a target should be left alone)

When Jackson moves to London with his parents he's still not in full control of his two forms, wracked with guilt over the Kanima attacks

Teddy can tell Jackson is some kind of werewolf and convinces him to meet his Uncle Bill, a magically turned wolf (Teddy being a born werewolf/metamorphmagus hybrid)

Harry, from his experience helping Draco turn a new leaf post-war, helps Jackson get over his guilt (from being a bully and from Kanima attacks)

Teddy & Bill help Jackson get control over shifting into his two forms

Nemeton finally comes up and the group decides to go together and check out Beacon Hills

Charlie is a leather worker on the muggle side of things as a hobby outside of his dragon work, and has contacts in San Fran. Bill works with museums regularly so can travel in muggle world easily. Harry invests in child education & welfare programs around the world as both a passion and a cover for traveling for his MoD missions

Nogitsune is in Stiles and gradually taking over his body more and more often

Peter thinks something's wrong but Derek and Scott keep blocking Peter from checking on Stiles, thinking Peter's up to no good

Peter is slowly going Omega with how both Derek and Alpha Scott don't trust him, not helping the perception of him

HP & crew move into town, misunderstandings abound -- HP initially thinks he's supposed to take out Peter after he finds out Peter came back to life (and hearing of Peter's reputation) but he's actually supposed to go after the Nogitsune

Chris & Peter team up thinking HP & crew are supernaturals who want to take over the territory after getting insider info from Jackson -- also think HP is the reason oni start showing up in town

Scott agrees to help hand over Peter without telling the rest of the pack (in the hopes that will fix everything), Stiles finds out later and tries to intervene

HP meets Stiles and the Nogitsune recognizes MoD & panics, creating body double & fleeing

HP realizes true target of MoD mission, works together with Chris & Peter to take down Nogitsune

Stiles' soul is in new body, Teddy helps Stiles process and recover

HP unintentionally Alpha of his own pack (two part-Veelas, one turned werewolf, one metamorph-wolf, one kanima-wolf hybrid) so Peter is no longer Omega when he switches loyalty to HP over Scott

Chris likes idea of joining HP on MoD missions -- help relieve guilt of Argent family breaking the Code and being able to again use skills for good

Teenagers all graduate and move on to university/post-school career paths

[neurodivergent-fox-demon]

Stackson Week Day 6

The Bleeding Hearts Club

Rating: mature

Other tags: trans lydia, Derek Hale/ Lydia Martin, Isaac Lahey/Scott Mccall/Allson Argent , Peter Hale/Chris Argent, Minor Character Death

triggers: fighting, drug use

Please let me know if I need to add any more tags.

Archive of Our Own

Chapter 6: Moving Up and Out

“Oh god, Jackson. Final is in two hours.” Stiles panted and rolled his hips as Jackson sucked on his neck. “Fuck, feels so good.” He gripped Jackson’s hair and whimpered. 

Jackson grinned against his neck. “You’ve studied all you can, luv.” He laid him on the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt, kissing down his chest. “I just want you to relax.” 

Stiles nodded, as he began unbuttoning his slacks. “Yeah, yeah.” He groaned, pulling him into a hungry kiss.

Jackson groaned into the kiss as he pulled a condom and lube from his pocket. He pulled back from the kiss and quickly removed his own clothes. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He moaned and moved over Stiles, kissing down his body. 

📚

Stiles grinned as he stepped out of his trigonometry class. He was officially done with high school and this last final was a lot easier then he had thought it would be. Maybe Jackson was right about taking a few hours to relax before a big test. He chewed his lip and sighed, thinking back through the last few hours. He looked up and saw Jackson waiting for him. He ran over and jumped into his arms. “I missed you.” 

Jackson laughed and kissed him softly. “I missed you too. It’s only been an hour, luv.” He chuckled and traced his fingers over his cheek. “How was your exam?” 

Stiles let out a long pleasured breath. “It went fine. I think I aced it.” He kissed his hand, grinning at Jackson. “We should go out and celebrate. We’re officially finished with high school.” 

Jackson sighed, kissing him lovingly. “Yeah, I’m so proud of you. Dinner is on me. I have reservations at the Ledbury in London, and a room reserved at the Langham hotel, for the weekend.” 

Stiles smirked, tracing his thumb over his neck. “You are going to spoil me, like this. You did not have to do all this, babe.” He pecked his lips and took his hand, leading him out to the jeep. “I would have been happy with the café and staying at my house this weekend.” 

“Yeah, but I wanted to do this. It’s not just a celebration for you, but for me as well. I’ve already talked to your dad, so he’ll know where we’ll be all weekend.” 

Stiles hummed and nodded. “I guess I can agree to that. I would love to go away for the weekend with you.” He kissed him softly and sighed. He could not believe how lucky he was to have a boyfriend like Jackson. “When do we leave?” 

Jackson kissed him behind his ear and chuckled. “Right after your last therapy session. I’ll be waiting for you in the Porsche.” 

Stiles groaned, shaking his head. “Do I have to? I don’t want to go. The day has been so amazing and having to talk about my feelings is going to ruin everything.” 

“I know, my love, but this is the last session.” He kissed his forehead. “It’s only an hour.” 

Stiles groaned and nodded, laying his head on Jackson’s shoulder. “Fine. I’ll go.” 

📚

 Jackson was packing in his room when there was a knock on his door. He sighed and went to open the door. “Oh, Danny. What can I do for you?” Technically he was still the head boy for another week and he was glad to help another student. 

Danny shrugged, running his hand through his hair. “The other guys said that you are going away for the weekend?” 

Jackson nodded as he let the other boy into his room. “Yeah, I’m taking my boyfriend to London. I hope that is alright. I’m sure that everyone can survive a weekend without me.” 

Danny smiled, leaning against the door frame. “Yeah, we’ll be fine. We were planning to surprise you with a graduation gift, but I’ve been elected to invite you to a party next week instead. You can invite Stiles, if you’d like.” He chuckled. “You have been a great head boy and we want to honor that.” 

“Oh, that… you guys did not have to do that.” Jackson smiled, looking up at him. “I suppose I can come to a party. We usually go to dinner with his friends on Saturday. When is the party?” 

Danny nodded. “No problem. The party is Friday night. We thought we’d get one last party in before we all have to move out Monday.” He grinned at Jackson. “All of us really think you’ve been an amazing head boy.” 

Jackson blushed, as he closed his suitcase. “Oh, I… That is really nice of you guys.” He chuckled as he grabbed his hat and keys. “Where’s the party?”

”No, seriously. Um, it’s in the ballroom. the headmaster has given us permission to have it there, as long as we don’t get too out of hand.” Danny smiled. “I'm going to be the DJ and Levi is doing the decorating.” 

Jackson chuckled. “I’ll be there. I’m sure Stiles wouldn’t mind. Levi is his best friend.” He chewed his lip. “If you don’t mind, I have to meet Stiles at my car. We have quite a drive to London.” 

Danny nodded, winking at him. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

Jackson blushed. “I have no idea what you mean.” 

“Sure you don’t. My walls are thin, Jackson.” Danny laughed. 

Jackson's blush deepened as he shook his head. “Oh my god… I’m… I don’t know what to say.” 

Danny shrugged. “Don’t worry about it, man. Have a good weekend.” 

”Thank you.” 

📚

Stiles’s eyes widened as he walked into the restraint with Jackson. He had never been anywhere this fancy before and his suit and tie felt like it was going to choke him. “Oh my god, Jackson. This place is entirely too fancy. I’m going to embarrass myself.” 

Jackson squeezed his hand, smiling. “No you won’t, luv. One, no one will care, and two, I requested a private table.” 

Stiles chuckled. “See, you’re scared I’ll embarrass you.” 

Jackson sighed, shaking his head. “No, I just want you all to myself.” He kissed him softly before walking up to the Hostess to see about their reservation. He grinned at Stiles as they were led to their private table. “See, don’t worry so much, luv.” 

Stiles smiled as he sat at the table. “This place really is beautiful.” He looked at the menu and sighed. “There are no prices on this menu.” 

Jackson nodded and shrugged. “Don’t worry, luv. I paid ahead of time. So all you have to do is order.” 

Stiles sighed, shaking his head. He was a little uncomfortable with all the extravagance. Yes, he had rich friends, but they never went out like this. “That’s not really the point, babe. I’m not sure I belong in a place like this.” 

Jackson sighed, chewing his lip. “Maybe I should have discussed this with you before making all the arrangements.” He slumped down in the chair. “I just wanted to spoil you.” 

Stiles chuckled. “I appreciate it, but you don’t need to do all this.” He took the other man’s hand. “How much of your allowance did you spend this weekend?” 

Jackson blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just about all of it. I thought this was the perfect way to spend the money.” 

Stiles chuckled. “Well, the money is already spent, so let’s have a good time.” Stiles chuckled, nervously. He hated that he had made the date uncomfortable. “Can I ask that you allow me to spoil you a bit on this trip too?” 

Jackson laughed. “I won’t tell you no, luv.” 

📚

Levi leaned against the drink table and chuckled. “Jackson, Stiles doesn’t need all that fancy stuff. He just needs your time and attention. That is his love language. That’s why he and Isaac are always cuddling.” He smiled, sipping his sangria. 

Jackson nodded. “I think I understand that, but I enjoy buying things for him. I have never been good with affection.” 

Levi squeezed his arm and sighed. “Well, buy him little things. Don’t take him on an extra event weekend in London, or Paris. It was a nice idea, but you have to think about the person you’re dating.” He looked over where Derek and Stiles were talking to Danny. “You have to come to a comfortable middle ground.” 

Jackson smiled at him, bowing his head. “Is that how you and Derek compromised on you going to Brown?” 

Levi rolled his eyes. “I was being too insecure about that. Both of us want us to be together, and I don’t want to give up anything in his life to follow me. Derek doesn’t feel like he is giving anything up, but he feels like he is moving on to the logical next chapter in his life. So we’re getting an apartment in the city.” He shrugged. 

Jackson blushed. “That’s kind of great. You and Derek have been together for a long time. I’m glad you figured out a way to make it work.” 

“Yeah, I was being a fool.” Levi sighed and chewed on his lip. “Are you and Stiles still planning to end your relationship at the end of the summer.” 

“Well, we haven’t really decided anything. Oxford isn’t really that far, and… I don’t want this to end when I go.” Jackson smiled, biting his lip. “We’re doing so well. It’d be a shame just to break our relationship off.” He chuckled, downing the rest of his drink. 

Levi grinned at him. “Look at you, all in love. I never thought I would see you and Stiles together, but I can kind of understand.” He looked around the room and sighed. “You are both caring and kind hearted people. You fit together so perfectly and complement each other’s strengths and shortcomings. I hope it works out for you. And I can’t thank you enough for getting him through school.” 

Jackson smiled. “Well, he did most of the work there. I am happy we stopped fighting each other and he started paying attention during our tutoring sessions.” He blushed, laughing softly. “Though… a good portion of the time our tutoring broke down into make out sessions.” 

Levi laughed, rolling his eyes. “Oh my god. I did not need to know that. According to Danny, there was way more than making out.” 

Jackson gasped and coughed, blushing in embarrassment. “Is everyone talking about that? I swear I did not know the walls were so thin.” 

Levis chuckled, slapping his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like we aren’t happy for you. I’m just glad I don't share a wall with you.”

Jackson shook his head. “Oh god.” 

Stiles walked over and kissed his cheek. “What’s going on babe” 

Jackson sighed, wrapping his arm around his waist. “Everyone is talking about us having sex in my dorm room.” 

Stiles glared at Levi. “That is kind of private, Levi.” 

“I’m just teasing him, a bit. As your brother, it is my right to give him a hard time.” Levi smirked. 

Stiles shook his head. It’s not like he had not given Derek and Levi a hard time on the same topic. “You are the worst.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I can’t believe I love you.”

”I love you too.” Levi grinned at him. 

Stiles rolled his eyes, looking at Jackson. “Let’s go dance.“ 

Jackson blushed, shaking his head. “I’m not much of a dancer, luv. I look like a puppet.” 

Stiles kissed his neck. “Don’t worry about it, babe. No one cares how we look while we dance. We should just have fun. This is your last party as head boy.” 

Jackson smiled and nodded as he took his hand and walked onto the dance floor. Derek walked over to Levi and wrapped an arm around him. “They are too adorable. Who knew that Stiles was going to fall in love with a skinny rich boy.” 

Levi slapped his shoulder. “Be nice.” 

Derek growled and kissed him. “I am being nice. I came to this silly high school party.” 

Levi shrugged. “It’s the last high school party I’ll ever attend. I thought it’s be fun.” 

Derek nodded, grinning. “Have I said how proud I am of you?

Levi wrapped his arms over his shoulders. “You haven’t.” 

“Well, I am.” He sighed, kissing him lovingly.

📚

Stiles grabbed his keys and headed toward the front door. “I’ll see you later, dad.” 

The sheriff held up his hand. “Wait! Stop a few minutes and talk to your father” He chuckled, shaking his head. He was glad that Stiles was going out with his friends and having good clean fun, but he had barely scene him in weeks. “What are you up to today?” 

Stiles skidded to a stop and walked over to his father. “Ah, Jackson and I are driving up to Oxford to take a tour of the campus. He’s going to pick up his welcome package and see where his dorm is going to be.” He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “And then we’re going to get dinner. We might just get a room and stay in Oxford so we don’t have to drive home too late.” 

The sheriff nodded, taking a sip of water. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Jackson. Have you made time for your other friends?” 

”Yeah, we are all having dinner tomorrow, but Jackson and I are dating. I just want to support him while he gets ready to go to college.” Stiles shrugged. “Plus, I want to see the campus.” 

Noah chuckled and nodded. “Stiles, I like Jackson, but are you sure you want this relationship to follow him to Oxford? Long distance relationships are quite difficult.” 

Stiles groaned, sitting on the couch. “Pops. I know it’s going to be difficult, but nothing about my relationship with Jackson has been easy. I think this relationship is worth the effort.” 

“Alright, if you think it’s worth the effort, I support you.” He patted his leg, as he popped a crisp into his mouth. “Drive safe, and let me know you got there alright.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles got up and headed for the door. “Remember I have to go take the entry exam for the police academy Tuesday.” 

The sheriff nodded. “Yeah, good luck.” He grinned. He was just happy to see the improvements in his son. “Have fun.” 

Stiles nodded, heading out the door. He hurried to the Whittemore house and walked up to the door to ring the bell. 

Moments later Jackson answered. “Hey, luv. Thanks for driving me.” He kissed him and headed for the jeep. “You look a little upset.” 

Stiles sighed, as he followed him and leaned against his jeep. “I’m not really upset… I just… everyone keeps telling me that long distance relationships are too difficult. I don’t want to think about breaking up with you just because you’ll be a couple hours away.” 

Jackson nodded and kissed him softly. “I know what you mean, but I am willing to give it a go, Stiles. I love you and that is worth fighting for.” 

Stiles grinned at him. “I love you too. Come on. We have a long drive ahead of us.” He gestured his head at the jeep and climbed in. 

📚

Stiles looked at the map the tour guide had given them. “This place is pretty amazing, babe. There is so much history here.” 

Jackson nodded, placing an arm over his shoulders. He was looking over his welcome packet. “And There is plenty of off campus housing I can choose from. Oh, look. They have a welcoming ball next month. We should go.” 

Stiles nodded, raising a brow at him. “You want to go to a ball… Don’t you think that is a little too posh?” 

Jackson shrugged, looking into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve gone to balls all my life and I really don’t see the big deal. We could have a great night.” 

Stiels chuckled, biting his lip. “Yeah, sure, why not. I suppose it is not much different than going to prom, and I did not go to that.” 

Jackson nodded. “It’d probably be no different than going to the end of the party a few weeks ago. Well, they’ll have a formal dress code.” 

Stiles groaned, rolling his eyes. “I’ll have to wear a suit?” He sat on a bench and looked at the map. “I suppose I can do that for another night.” 

Jackson sat next to him and took his hand. “Hey, we don’t have to go.” 

Stiles looked at him. “But you want to go, and I don’t want to keep you from going.” He cupped his cheek and kissed him. “Look, we have to make these decisions together.” 

Jackson sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into his hand. “I am going to have to socialize with these people for the next four years and I would love to do that with you on my arm.” 

Stiles chuckled. “Am I your trophy boyfriend?” 

Jackson blushed, shaking his head. “You make me sound so nefarious.” 

Stiles laughed and kissed him. He could not help but think that Jackson was entirely too cute at the moment. “We’ll go to the ball, and I’ll hang off your arm all night, making you look amazing.” 

Jackson grinned. “It won't be hard. You’re pretty amazing yourself.”

📚

Stiles licked his lips as he helped Chris set the table. Chris watched him for a moment. “Are you alright.” 

Stiles looked up at him, thinking. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m fine. I… There are a lot of changes going on, but I am fine.” 

”You don’t sound fine.” Chris took the napkins from him and placed them on the table. “And you’re in here with me instead of hanging in the living room with your friends.” He sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Talk to me.” 

Stiles groaned and sat in one of the chairs. “I don’t know why I am even here. Wouldn’t it be better to just make a clean break now, so they can leave without feeling guilty. Levi and Derek are going to America. Allison, Scott, and Isaac are going to Paris. And Jackson is going to Oxford. I’ll be in a dead end job. Who am I kidding? I’m never going to pass that exam for the police academy.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I can’t blame anyone but myself. I fucked up the last two years.” 

Chris shook his head, sitting next to him. “Stiles, you messed up, but you are one of the smartest kids I know. You are going to pass that exam with no trouble. No one is leaving permanently. Allison, Scott and Isaac are just going for a month. They are just kicking off their gap year. You’re taking a gap year too. It’ll be fine.” 

Stiles nodded, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I don’t deserve any kindness any of them are giving me. I was such a jerk to all of you. I understand why they are all leaving. It doesn’t make it any less painful. I am going to miss everyone and I can’t help but think they’ll all forget me. I know I’m being ridiculous.” 

Chris smiled at him. “Did I ever tell you how Peter and I met?” 

Stiles shook his head. “No, I just know that you married later in life. You have a former marriage to Allison’s mother.” 

Chris nodded. “Peter and I were both students at Beacon Hills Boy School, back in the 70s. We met on the archery team, and I was out shooting him in every match. So he asked me to coach him. We started dating him in our junior year, but my father hated him.” 

Stiles nodded, crossing his legs. “What does this have to do with my situation?” 

“I’m getting there, Stiles.” He chuckled, slapping his knee. “It is traditional in my family for the parents to arrange a marriage for their children. My father had already chosen Victoria for me but Peter and I were planning to stay together while he went to Cambridge. I went to the University of Dublin. We drifted apart because we did not put the work into our relationship that we both deserved. I married Victoria, and he slept around for the next 20 years.” 

“So you are telling me it’s hopeless?” 

Chris shook his head. “No, I’m telling you that if you want to make it work, you have to put the effort in.” The man chuckled. “When Peter came back to me, my marriage was in shambles and it took a lot for us to get our shit back together. “Don’t let yourself lose track of those you love for the next twenty years.” 

Stiles stared at him for a few minutes. “You were idiots.” 

Chris hummed and nodded. “That’s another way you could put it. Don’t be an idiot. If your friends are important enough, you’ll make the effort to stay in their lives.” 

Stiles chewed his lip, running his hand through his hair. “Thank you, Christopher. That was actually really helpful.” He got up and finished setting the table. “So you think my father would be alright with me moving to Oxford?” 

Chris shrugged. “You’re an adult. you should do what is best for you. Maybe getting out of Beacon Hills would be good for you. There are a lot of bad memories here.” 

Stiles nodded, and let out a sigh. “I suppose I have a lot to think about.” 

📚

Stiles walked into the sheriff’s station and stormed into his father’s office. “We need to talk.” He slammed an envelope onto the desk.

Noah nodded, taking off his reading glasses. “Come in, have a seat.” He picked the envelope up and read through the contents. “You passed all your exams with flying colors.”

He took a deep breath as he claimed a seat in front of his father’s desk. “I’ve taken a position at the police academy near oxford.” He chewed on his lip ring, rocking in his chair.” 

“Are you sure about this?” Noah sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “What are you going to do about food and boarding?” He got up to squeeze his son’s shoulder. “Are you just doing this for Jackson?” 

Stiles shook his head. “I can see why it would look like that, but no. I think it’ll be a good idea to get out of town for a little while. I’m doing so much better lately, but this town is… I’m not sure what else to say dad. This is the town Erica dreamed of escaping. I need to get out of here, if she can’t. I can get one of the dorms at the academy and hopefully find a job.” 

The sheriff nodded, leaning against his desk. “Okay, Stiles. If you think this is best, I’ll support you. Don’t stay away, okay? I want to see you on every holiday, and you have a job waiting when you graduate.” 

Stiles chuckled. “Deal, but I’m still hoping to study forensics in college.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re really okay with this?” 

Noah rubbed his eyes. “Son, you don’t need my permission for this. Am I going to miss you? Yes. But I will always support you.” 

Stiles got up and hugged his dad. “Thank you. I know I am just throwing this at you from nowhere.” 

Noah chuckled, patting his shoulder. “It’s fine. It’s not like I thought you would stay forever. Have you told Jackson about this plan? You’re following him to Oxford.”

Stiles shook his head. “Not yet. I’m going to go talk to him after I leave here.” He chewed his lip. “Do you think he’ll be alright with this?” 

“That kid loves you. I think he’ll be ecstatic.” The sheriff shrugged, looking around the room. “Get out of here and go talk to your boyfriend.” 

Stiles smirked and nodded as he ran from the station. 

📚

Jackson opened the front door of his parent’s house and grinned. “Stiles, what are you doing here?” 

Stiles chuckled and pulled him into a kiss. “I wanted to see you and hoped I could steal you for dinner.” 

Jackson laughed, grabbing his coat from the rack by the door. “Well, I am a little hungry. It has been positively boring and I’ve missed you.” 

Stiles took his hand and led him to the jeep. “What do you feel like eating, babe?” 

“Anything sounds good to me, luv.” He grinned and kissed his cheek before climbing into the jeep. It had been a few days since they were able to get together and he had been missing Stiles much more than he thought he would. “Why don’t we get a room for the night and order room service?” 

Stiles smirked, as he started driving. “I think that sounds like a sinfully great idea.” He squeezed his hand. “I don’t have much money though. The hotel will not be very nice.” 

Jackson shook his head. “Don’t worry about it baby, I’ll take care of the hotel. I just want to spend the night with you. We don’t have many more nights before I leave for school.” 

Stiles sighed, chewing his lip. “Actually I wanted to talk to you about that, but let us get dinner first, then we can decide if we are going to get a room. You might not want to after we talk.” 

Jackson stared at him for a moment. “Are you breaking up with me?” 

Stiles sighed, shaking his head. “No, but you might break up with me. I want to give you the option before you head to school.” 

Jackson's expression pinched, as he looked over at his boyfriend. “I don’t understand.” He licked his lips and caressed his hand with his thumb. “You’re not making much sense. We still have a couple months until I have to leave.” 

Stiles nodded, letting out a long breath. “I know but I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay with me Jackson.” He smiled lovingly at him. “Look, I really care for you, and I don’t want to hold you back.” 

Jackson nodded, thinking for the rest of the drive. Stiles parked outside of a restaurant attached to one of the nicer hotels. Jackson took his hand and walked him up to the host “Table for two, Whittemore.” 

The man nodded as he grabbed two menus and began leading them to a table. “Of course, Mr. Whittemore. Right this way.” 

As soon as they sat down, Stiles took Jackson’s hand across the table. “Baby, before we order, I have some news for you. I passed my entrance exam into the police academy and I’ve been accepted to an academy near oxford.” He chewed his lip ring, nervously looking into his boyfriend’s eyes.

Jackson grinned at him and kissed his hand. “Luv, that’s great. Why do you look so anxious?” 

Stiles sighed. “I would be moving to Oxford with you, but I don't want you to feel like you have to stay with me just because we would be in the same city. You deserve to explore yourself in college and not be stuck with your high school boyfriend to hold you back.” 

Jackson sighed and wiped his hand down his face, “Stiles, I’m not sure what you think would hold me back. I love you, and I don’t feel like you could ever hold me back.” 

Stiles blushed, shaking his head. “Would you really want a boyfriend following you when you start college? I don’t want to break up at the end of the summer, Jackson. I want to really call myself yours.” 

“I want that too. Stiles, this is really exciting, and I don’t feel like you would hold me back.” He stood up and kissed his boyfriend tenderly. “I want to see where this relationship goes. I can’t believe that we’ll both be heading for Oxford in August. This is amazing.” 

Stiles smiled at him, nodding. “I can’t tell you how happy this makes me. I don’t know how much time I will have once classes start, but I’ll do everything I can to make time for you.” He grinned, pulling him into another kiss. He could not believe he really wanted him, and was overjoyed. “Let’s order dinner, and get a room? Hmm?” 

Jackson grinned and nodded. “Of course, my love.” He waved the waiter over. “Can you bring us a bottle of your best champagne and the chef’s best creation?” The waiter bowed and went to put the order in. 

📚

Stiles moaned and laid back in the bed as Jackson kissed over his neck. He pulled back for just a moment so he could toss his shirt to the floor. “I want you inside my now, babe.” 

“You sure, my love?” Jackson smiled, kissing over his chest. He wasted no time, pulling Stiles’s pants off. He kissed him passionately, trying to get his own clothes off. 

Stiles whimpered into the kiss and nodded. He pulled back to breath and nodded. “Fuck yes. I just need to feel you inside me.” He ran his hand over his cheek and pulled him back into the kiss.

Hours later Jackson laid his head on Stiles’s chest, listening to his heart. “That was bloody fantastic.” He chuckled.

Stiles smiled, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. I can’t believe that I get to call you mine.” 

Jackson turned so he could rest his chin on his chest. “I was thinking…Do you think we can rent a flat together in Oxford?” 

Stiles sighed, looking into his eyes. “Not at first, babe. I think it would be a great idea, eventually, but I’m going to have to stay on my own for a little while. I need to take care of myself, for a while. It’s not that it wouldn't be great to live with you, but…” 

Jackson placed a finger over his lips, cutting him off. “I understand, and you’re right. We shouldn’t jump straight into living together.” He kissed him softly, and sighed happily. “It’ll be enough that we are going to be in the same city, and we can see each other whenever you're free. I know that the police academy can take up most of your time.” 

Stiles groaned and kissed him. “Why are you so perfect?” 

Jackson giggled, burying his face in his chest. “I’m not perfect, luv, but I just want us to make this work. I am pretty sure I’m falling in love with you.” He looked back at Stiles, blushing. 

Stiles sighed. “I’m not sure I’m there yet, but I’m sure I could possibly fall in love with you.” 

Jackson nodded, pecking his lips. “I think I can live with that.” 

📚

Stiles whistled as he helped Chris pull a meat pie out of the oven. “Goodbye yellow brick road…” 

Chris chuckled, rolling his eyes. “That is a horrible song to sing when you're happy.” He poured everyone a glass of wine and put down a salad next to where Stiles had placed the meat pie. “I have to say, you are looking healthier and happier than I have seen you in a while.” 

Stiles grinned, leaning against the counter. “Well, I am a man who has a reason to stay clean.” He sighed happily. “Jackson has been so amazing, and I got into the police academy. I cannot screw this up. Dad is helping me find a therapist in Oxford that will accept his insurance.” 

Chris smiled, kissing his cheek. “That is wonderful. I’m so proud of you. When you graduate, I’ll help you to apply to all the best forensic schools. You’re going to great places.” 

Stiles nodded, blushing softly. “I already owe you and Peter so much, Chris. I could not ask you to do any more.” 

Chris tilted his head, looking into his eyes. “Peter is one of the best forensic scientists in the whole island. Technically you’ve been studying under him for 4 years, and that is no small feat.” He tousled his hair, chuckling. “It is no trouble helping you get into a good school when you graduate. And paying for you to go to school. And I won't take no for an answer.” 

Stiles groaned, pushing his hand away. “I can’t take your money, Chris. I did drugs in your drive. Started a fight, that your husband had to break up… I stole from you and Peter.”

Chris shrugged. “You’ve been Allison’s mate for years. You’re like another son to us, and we want to do this for you. We’ve already put the money aside and we won’t take no for an answer. You’re not the only one either. We have a fund available for Isaac as well.” 

Stiles wiped tears from his eyes looking up at Chris. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. It’s too much, Chris. I was about even getting into college and now I don’t even have to worry about paying for school. Thank you.” He threw his arms around him, hugging him tight.

Chris patted his back. “Alright. Go gather the rest of your gang and tell them that dinner is ready.” 

Stiles nodded and walked into the living room where everyone was playing chess. “Dinner is ready.” 

Jackson walked over and cupped his cheek. “What’s wrong, luv? You’ve been crying?” 

Stiles smiled, shaking his head. “They’re happy tears. Chris has already set up an account to pay for my college when I start in a few years.”

Jackson grinned at him. “That’s great. And I’ll make sure you get into a great school.” He gripped his chin and kissed him softly. 

“Hey, you’re blocking the door with all that sugar.” Levi made a fake gagging sound before smirking at them. “You two are so sweet It’d make anyone sick.” 

Stiles laughed, and flipped him off. “Shut it, Levi.” He took Jackson’s hand and led him into the dining room to eat. 

Allison sat next to him and kissed his cheek. “Honestly. My dads and I talked it over for hours and we could not think of a better way to spend the money, Stiles. You slipped up, but never wavered in your love in forensics. You have so much potential, and we love you.” 

Stiles wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her back. “Thanks sis. I love you too.” He bowed his head to pray with the rest before dinner was served. 

📚

Peter looked up as he heard a knock on his office door. “Come in.” He pushed the police files to the side as Stiles stepped into the room. ”Ah, it’s good to see you, Stiles. What can I owe the pleasure?” 

“I know that I owe you an apology.” He sighed, pulling at his hair. “I took advantage of you and broke your nose. I stole from you. I will pay you back as soon as I can. I really am sorry, Peter.” 

Peter shook his head. “All I ever wanted was to make sure you were okay. You don’t owe me anything. You scared the hell out of me when you just took off like that, Stiles. I only said you would have to pay me back because I wanted you to think about what you had done. The fact is, if you would have asked for it, I would have given you the money.” 

Stiles grimaced and nodded. “I know. I scared everyone. I just… my therapist… she said that I need to apologize to everyone I might have hurt when I was using. I never wanted to hurt you Peter. I never wanted to hurt anyone but myself.” 

Peter nodded, tapping his desk with a pen. “And have you apologized to yourself yet, Stiles? Have you forgiven yourself?”

Stiles shook his head, and sighed. “I don’t think I’m 100% there yet, but I will.” He smiled up at the man who had been his mentor for 4 years now and his friend for many years before that. “Thank you, for not letting me get too out of control. I don’t know where I would be without your help.” 

Peter shrugged. “If I were any kind of real friend, I would not have given you any drugs to begin with, but it was better you got it from me than on the street.” He walked around the desk and pulled the kid into a hug. “If anything would have happened to you, I don’t know if any of us would have survived it. Don’t ever do anything like that to us again. You’re going to make us proud, Stiles.” 

Stiles smiled, hugging the man. “I plan on it. I don’t even want to see another drug.” He stepped back and let out a long sigh. “I don’t know what else to say. I leave for Oxford a little over a month from now and I could not leave with any bad blood between us. Thank you for forgiving me. I don’t feel like I deserve it yet, but I’m working on it.” 

Peter smiled, patting his cheek. “Get out of here, Stiles. You should not be hanging around an old man like me. You should go hang out with the kids down stairs.” He kissed his forehead. “I think Allison made a special pudding tonight.” 

Stiles grinned at him before turning and heading back to his friends. Everyone was sitting in the living room watching one of the newest superhero movies. He really did not care to watch it but it was nice to be sober and among his friends. He sat on Jackson’s lap and wrapped his arms around his neck. “Hey. I missed you.” 

Jackson laughed, kissing him as he wrapped an arm around him. “You were gone for like 5 minutes, but I missed you too. We were just talking about all of us taking a trip to the states, to take Levi and Derek there, next month.” 

Levi shook his head. “We can’t ask all of you to do that. You shouldn’t take a week out of your time just to get us settled in the states. We’ll be fine.” 

Stiles smiled at him. “Levi, it would be no trouble. I may have to sell something to get the money for the trip, but I’ll figure it out. We can’t let you two go alone.” 

Derek shook his head. “Stiles, you need to save that money to move to Oxford. We’ll be back soon enough for Christmas.” 

Jackson smiled at Derek and Levi. He had never been apart of a group of such close friends before. Everyone was willing to drop everything just to help their friends adjust to moving across the pond. “Don’t worry so much about the cost of the flight. I’ll take care of everyone’s tickets.” 

Levi choked on his wine and shook his head. “Oh no, don’t do that Jackson. That is thousands of dollars and we could never repay you for that.” He bent over and kissed his cheek. “You are sweet to offer though.” 

Jackson frowned at him. “Are you sure?” 

Derek patted his shoulder. “We’re sure. We’ll be fine on our own, and we’ll be back for Christmas. You know we really appreciate it, but you all have to get ready for your own classes and moves across the country.” 

Jackson nodded, laying his head on Stiles’s shoulder. 

📚

Stiles sighed as he carried the last box into Jackson’s new flat. He smiled looking around. His boyfriend was already setting up a flat screen tv in the living room. “This place is bloody brilliant, babe.” He could not believe that Jackson had found a flat within 5 miles of the police academy. 

Jackson chuckled, looking back at Stiles as he carried the box into his bedroom. “Well, you are welcome over anytime, luv. The bed is definitely big enough for the both of us, unlike that tiny one in my dorm room.” He stood up and popped his back, they had been moving boxes all morning. “Let’s go get something to eat.” 

Stiles grinned, walking back into the room. “Sure, there must be something close by that we both will like.” He pack his lips and took his hand. He led him out of the flat and turned out the light behind them.

[smokeshowxrpg]

London, meet Cordelia Monroe James, a 24 year old. Hailing from Roswell New Mexico, they’re currently residing in the neighborhood of Soho and have been for the past 7 months. They’ve been told they resemble Lucy Hale, but they don’t see it.

Quick Facts:

— They currently work as an Actress for Sunflower Talent. — they can be found on social media by the username @prettyreckless. — a favorite memory: Bella's first birthday. It was a magical day and she loved every minute of it. — Three things they like include: Coffee, reading, Playing with her daughter. — They’re described as [+] adamantine, loyal and [-] callous and stubborn. — They are connected with Walker Jones and Mara Thompson.

Reason They’re In London:

She needed a fresh start and wanted better opportunities for her daughter than what she'd been given growing up. So while Bella was still young enough to not care, they packed up and made the move to London.

[roadtogracelandx45]

Hearts Made of Glass| 1| Twilight All Human

0.01 

London England 

 April 1912

Allenwood Boarding Academy 

**

Ever since Lily Astor received the telegram from her uncle John that he and his wife were coming to pick her and her roommate Rosalie Hale up to take them to the states, she had perched herself on the window seat and looked out of the window, only ever leaving to go to classes and meals.  And a lot of the time Rosalie joined her, telling her stories that she could remember of the states.

“You know Lily, sitting there wasn’t going to make us come any sooner.” came a stronger New York City accent from the doorway. 

“Uncle John!” She squealed and launched herself off of the window seat. Rosalie, her roommate stood up from her desk just as excited. 

She had been sent here from Chicago by her adoptive parents on the final wishes of her birth parents and she had been just as excited to go back to the states. But she hid it better than Lily did. 

John Astor laughed as he caught his niece in a hug and swung her around in a circle causing her to laugh.  His wife Madeline watched with a small shy smile. This was the first time that she was meeting her husband’s niece and was nervous about how she would take to her especially after learning the age difference between his ex-wife and her.  Her husband sat Lily down on her feet and Rosalie moved quickly to Lily’s side grasping her hand in hers. “This is Madeline.” He turned introducing Maeline to both girls who suddenly started studying her. 

 A grin broke out on Lily’s face first, “Hullo, it’s nice to meet you.”

 “Quite lovely,” Rosalie added.

 “Lilian.”  The older Astor warned. 

“It’s true Uncle, she seems a lot nicer than that horrible thing that you were married to that didn’t want me coming home with you after my parents died. And she is a lot more pretty too.”  

“Wait, Ava refused to let you come with them? And you let that happen?” Madeline was now standing closer to her step-niece and her roommate and was horrified. “I didn’t know. “ He admitted reaching his hand up and smoothing his fingers over his mustache. “I came to pick her up and the headmistress told me Lily was ill and couldn’t leave.”  

“I wasn’t ill. I was devastated. Couldn’t leave my bed, I lost my parents and my brothers and then I couldn’t go to the states to my father’s best friend’s family.  Dr. Cullen and his wife came to visit Rosalie and Mrs. Cullen took the time to comfort me.”

“If the McCartys weren't going to take her in, my parents were going to take her in and take us both home,” Rosalie added as she rubbed her free hand on her forearm, “I was going go with them either way, but I couldn’t leave her behind. Not knowing how much she was hurting.”  

John was suddenly thankful that she had someone as fierce and as protective as Rosalie Hale with her.  He was a lot older than Lily was when his parents passed away and it didn’t quite as sting as bad. “Don’t apologize uncle. It's okay.” Lily said holding her free hand, ‘We are going home now and that’s all that matters.” 

Neither John nor Madeline didn’t comment on how London was home, it was obvious that she had stopped believing that two years ago. 

“Well we will send the girls in to pack your belongings and we will be off,” Madeline said. Both girls exchanged a smile before nodding their heads. 

***

South Hampton, England 

3 days later

**

“Holy shi.” Lily started only to get Rosalie’s elbow into her ribs, they both had a bad habit of swearing and she was sure that Lily’s Uncle and Aunt weren’t going to be as understanding as the dorm mother had been. 

“That is what we are sailing on?” The redhead dropped down on the seat again looking at her Uncle who smiled, he had known the words that were going to be said and he normally encourage them, mostly because it was the first time he saw the tiniest bit of her old self floating around. 

“It’s called the ship of dreams,” Madeline answered, her own smile forming, the girls' excitement was contagious. 

“Ship of dreams.” Both girls echoed almost in awe before giggling. One of the stewards opened the door and the Colonel as he referred to as nodded his head motioning for the two girls to go first. Lily took the man’s hand and stepped down the small step and then onto the ground. 

“Wow.” She muttered as Rosalie joined her. 

“That is one big god damn ship.” She whispered causing both girls laugh again.  The steward looked down at them and offered them a smile. He had seen a handful of children coming into the port to board the Titanic but none of them looked as excited as these two.  Madeline and the Colonel had gotten out of the car and the new Mrs. Astor put her hands on each of their  shoulders and started leading them to the ramp way, talking to them with the same amount of excitement.  Her husband following steps behind after giving directions on where the luggage needed to go.

 “Come on girls.” The older girl led them up the ramp way and Lily paused slipping away from her and to her uncle who was steps behind them. 

“Lily? What is it?” He asked. “Just wanted final look.” 

He nodded his head in understanding, “I will take you onto the deck once we get settled in our rooms.”

 Stealing her jaw, Lily nodded her head and let him led her up the rest of the ramp and into the corridor. This was the first night of her new life and she wasn’t sure how she wanted to handle it. 

[katb357]

Falling for Hogan’s Heroes

10. High speed car chase

Thanks Xav for the RP!

Deceit

As far as rescue missions went it was strictly routine. Hogan sent out Newkirk and LeBeau to pick up a few downed flyers and bring them back to camp. They would send them on to the sub back to London in a few days. Nothing unusual there. The unusual part came almost as soon as Newkirk cut one of the flyers down from the tree he was stuck in. Newkirk introduced himself to the young man, who immediately looked down his nose at the Cockney corporal. 

The flyer dusted off the sleeves of his jacket. “Here,” he said, handing over his pack. “Carry this for me, won’t you, lad?” 

Newkirk raised an eyebrow. “You got a broken leg then, mate?”

“I’m hardly your mate. And no, I’m perfectly hale.” He straightened his cap. He tried again to get Newkirk to take the pack. “Be a good lad and carry it now.” 

“You’re not me mate, then and I’m not your lad. Carry your own bloody pack.” He turned away, glancing at LeBeau, who was shepherding the other two flyers. “Let’s go. It’s a long hike.”

“I say, did you say hike?” The tall blond flyer was shaking his head. “I thought you would have transport available.” 

One of LeBeau’s flyers groaned. “There goes ol’ High Speed again. Thinks he’s too good for the likes o’ us.” 

Newkirk had no patience for standing around arguing. He glanced over his shoulder but kept walking. “Either hoof it or stay here for the Germans to find you. Your choice.” He set a quick pace as it was a long way back to camp.

The other flyer hooted as they followed Newkirk into the woods. “Germans ‘ll have transport, Cap’n! Save yer precious toes.”

Timothy “High Speed” Chase huffed in exasperation but reminded himself that soon enough he would have the cheeky sergeant and all the others right where he wanted them. For now, he would just have to follow along, even if it did mean a hike. He shouldered his pack and set off after the others. 

An hour later, he drew up next to LeBeau. “How much longer will this infernal hike take us?” 

“Another hour or two. You were a long way out.” LeBeau dropped back behind the flyers, watching for patrols. He was not in a mood to talk.

When it started to snow, Chase couldn’t suppress his disgust. “Mist!” Then he snapped his mouth shut. He couldn’t afford to be caught speaking German. 

He was lucky one of his fellow flyers tripped just then, otherwise Newkirk, who had ears like a bat, would have caught his slip. No harm was done, save to the fellow’s pride. Newkirk came back to check on him.

“You okay, Sergeant…”

“Owens. I’m fine. Just this boot coming apart on me. No worries.” He got back on his feet, shouldered his pack again. “Ready to move onward.” 

They finally made it back to camp and down the tree stump, timing their entrance with the searchlights so they were not seen. By that time, the small group was wet, cold and miserable. They were also tired of “High Speed” Chase and his complaints.

Sergeant Owens had struck up something of a friendship with LeBeau by this time. He elbowed him and guffawed. “Wanna know how he got the moniker High Speed?” 

LeBeau grunted, “By how fast his mouth works?”

Owens laughed. “No, but that’s good! That’s real good!” 

“Sergeant!” Chase hissed. “Shut your mouth now.”

Owens ignored him. “Legend has it, when he was a lieutenant, he stole his CO’s car and went for a joy ride. Ended up getting chased around base but managed to ditch the car without getting caught. No one could ever prove it was him so he could be disciplined, but everyone suspected.” 

While all this was going on, the snow had been getting thicker. Hogan had been over at Klink’s office and he came down into the tunnel looking for the boys. He dusted some of the snow off his jacket. “I need you upstairs for roll call. They’re doing it inside because of the snow. We’re short a couple of men, so how about a few of you flyers come up as well. They don’t pay much attention… just count heads.” He pointed to Owens and Chase as well as to two others who had been in the tunnels for a couple of days. Then he turned and went back up the ladder.

Chase stood back, arms crossed over his chest. “Blimey idiots, risking our lives this way. I’m not going.” 

Newkirk’d had it with this one. He simply walked over, grabbed him by the arm and walked him to the stump exit. “Up the ladder to the exit or up the ladder to the barracks. Your choice. But I may shoot you if you choose the exit.”

The captain was fuming. Technically, he had plenty of information already, but he didn’t doubt Newkirk would shoot him in the back. Finally, he relented. “Fine,” he ground out through clenched teeth. He looked the corporal over, taking pleasure in imagining what would soon happen to him.

Once the men were assembled up in the main barracks it was simply a matter of waiting for Schultz. To their surprise, it was Karl Langensheidt who came through the door, bringing a gust of wind and snow with him. He shut the door and looked at them. “Schultz is not well today. I am taking his place. Now stand still so I may count.” His eyes roved around the room.

Timothy stood with his head down. He had recognized Karl the moment he stepped into the barracks, and it was crucial to his mission that Karl not recognize him. 

Karl marked down the names of a couple of men he knew were missing, and realized there were a few men present who didn’t belong there. He also knew this was par for the course, as Schultz had taught him to say, for this barracks. There was obviously monkey business going on. He looked around again and spotted a familiar face. He tried hard not to react, as he had no idea what Gunther was doing here, but it was none of his business. He figured maybe Hogan knew about it anyway. He would check to see if the two missing men were in the infirmary, and if not, then he would chalk them up to the ongoing monkey business, and not report anything amiss in Barracks Two. He nodded to Hogan and turned and left, hoping Gunther hadn’t noticed he had recognized him.

Once Karl was gone, Timothy Gunther Chase looked up again. He had felt his old school chum’s eyes on him. What a nuisance. Now he had to get rid of the man. No one was supposed to know about his mission, and Karl had to be asking questions. Time to figure out how to get out of this barracks and take care of business. 

He sidled up next to Colonel Hogan. “G’day old chap. Do you have a cigarette? I lost mine when I was shot down.” 

Hogan handed him a cigarette and pointed to the matches in the holder by the door. “Matches if you need ‘em.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about the Brit yet.

“Ta.” Chase took a match and lit it, then lit his cigarette. He took a draw on it, then blew out a mouthful of smoke. Then nodded critically. “Adequate… barely.” 

Hogan shrugged. “If you don’t like it, don’t smoke it.” He was glad the flyer wasn’t assigned to the camp permanently. He knew there’d be trouble if he was. He turned and went back into his office. He had some reports he needed to finish.

Chase dropped the cigarette on the floor and ground it under his heel. No one was paying attention to him, and so it was an excellent time to put his plan in motion. He snuck out the door. Unfortunately, the white snowflakes were still falling fast and hard, but he could make out Karl’s footprints leading away from the barracks. He would follow them and eventually catch up to him.

Langenscheidt finished his rounds and checked on the prisoner in the cooler. He was leaving the building and thinking it would be a good time to head back to his own barracks for some schnapps and a good book. He signed out at the Kommandantur and headed for his barracks. Due to his wayward thoughts and the cold, his guard was down.

Timothy was freezing by the time he caught up to Langenscheidt going into his barracks. Thankfully, no one else was around. He felt for the knife he had secured under his sleeve, the one he’d imagined using on Newkirk not long ago. “Karl Langenscheidt,” he growled. 

Karl turned just as Gunther lunged at him out of the snow. His defenses came up instinctively and he threw Gunther over his shoulder, although the knife slashed him wickedly through the sleeve of his uniform. Karl whirled around to face this unexpected enemy, waiting for him to rise.

But he didn’t. Chase had hit his head as he fell and now lay on the ground, barely conscious. 

Karl saw the knife lying a couple of feet away from where Gunther had landed. He picked it up and pocketed it. He needed to talk to Hogan right away. He wasn’t taking any chances. He also realized his arm was hurting. What he hadn’t realized was that he was bleeding all over the snow. He hoped Chase would stay out of it for a few more minutes, and he legged it to Barracks Two. Karl pushed open the door of the barracks and basically fell in the doorway.

“Get me Colonel Hogan. Please.” He was now bleeding all over the floor.

“Yessir!” A young man new to the barracks hopped up and ran back to Hogan’s office. “Colonel! Langenscheidt needs you! Looks like he needs Wilson, too!” 

Hogan came out and Karl explained the whole situation to him, while the colonel sent someone to get Wilson. He also sent Newkirk and Carter to go pick up Chase and bring him back. Olsen went along as a back up just in case.

Chase had gotten himself up on his feet, but hadn’t managed to stagger more than a yard or two from where Langenscheidt had tossed him before sinking to his knees. When Newkirk and Carter found him, he was sitting in the snow, holding his head in his hands, mumbling in German.

Newkirk easily pulled Chase to his feet and pulled him along. 

“Was meinen Sie?“ Chase protested, batting weakly at Newkirk‘s hands. “Lass mich doch allein!” 

Newkirk spoke fluent German, but didn’t bother replying. Instead, he told Andrew, “Only thing worse than a toff, is a bloody German toff! I knew I didn’t like this kid!”

They got Chase inside Barracks Two and down into the tunnel to sleep off his concussion. The other flyers were informed their wait would be a little longer since a German spy was to be transported back to London within the next two days. 

As for Karl, Wilson ended up putting in seventeen stitches to close the gash in his forearm. He did get his schnapps and a night in the infirmary.

When Hogan came to visit him, Chase sat up on his cot. His head was pounding, but he was starting to feel a bit better. “That Langenscheidt. He’s a dangerous one. I knew him as soon as I saw him, Colonel.” 

“How do you know him?”

Chase scrambled for an explanation. “I’ll tell you a secret, mate. I’m in Intelligence. They gave me names and faces to memorize and his was one of them. SS man. Probably planted here to put an end to your operation.” 

Hogan rubbed his chin. He had to give the kid credit. He was pretty fast on his feet. “Thanks for exposing him. I’ll make sure he’s taken care of.”

“I did him some damage, didn’t I, Sir?” 

Inside Hogan was seething. A couple of inches one way or the other and Karl could have been in real trouble. “Yeah, you did. He wound up with quite a few stitches.”

Chase glowered. “Damned Nazi. I meant to finish him.” 

That was all Hogan could take. “You need sleep. I’ll talk to you more later. The doctor left you these pills to take for your headache.” He handed them over with a glass of water and watched while the kid took them.  All the while he was wishing the aspirin were strychnine. 

Once he’d swallowed the medicine, Chase settled down, his head on his pillow, and closed his eyes. “Sleep. Yes, that’s what I need.” What he really needed, he was thinking, was a chance to finish the job on Langenscheidt. 

A few feet away Olsen stood watching. Hogan told him quietly, “Don’t let him out of your sight. If he gets physical, knock him out. I don’t want him anywhere else in this camp but right here till time to go to the sub.”

“Yessir.” Olsen saluted. He hoped Chase would get physical because he wanted to wipe the constant sneer off the man’s face.

Hogan started to leave, then turned back. “No starting a fight. You can finish it, but don’t start it.”

Olsen fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Yessir. I won’t start anything.” He wondered how the colonel always seemed able to read his mind.

Hogan went to talk to Wilson. He had a feeling that Chase would try something to escape before they could get  him out. He wanted to prevent it if they could.

“My question is this. Would it be safe to keep him sedated for the next day or so? We’d be better off, that’s for sure.”

“Dammit!” Olsen’s shout cut Hogan off. He came running along the tunnel, swelling starting around his right eye. “I thought he was sleeping and he jumped me! He got away!” 

Hogan looked at Olsen. “Which way did he go?”

“That way… I think.” Olsen pointed to the left. “He was moving fast, and I couldn’t keep up.

“He headed towards the exit. He’s probably out in the forest right now. We should hear the alarm and the dogs soon. We can only hope they get him back.”

“Carter and Newkirk are out there, Colonel.” 

“Newkirk’ll kill him if he gets a chance. Did he get that fancy knife of his back?”

“No Sir.” Olsen shook his head. “He thinks Langenscheidt stole it from him, and we haven’t let him know we’ve got it.” 

Hogan snapped his finger. “That’s it. He’s going after Karl. To finish the job and get back his knife. We need to find out where Karl is and warn him.”

Once Chase was up the ladder and outside, he regretted his decision to come this way. The snow was thick, and a heavy fog lay over the woods. He half considered going back down into the tunnels. But he had a mission to complete, and he needed to get busy with it. He regretted that this mission involved killing his childhood comrade, but there was no way around it. Langenscheidt could easily blow his cover. Besides, Chase had long suspected the man of being less than loyal to his Wehrmacht oath. “I’m doing this for you, Mama,” he whispered. She was a loyal German. On the other hand, his British father was probably rolling in his grave. 

He stumbled through the snow, intent on finding the cache he knew was hidden nearby, containing a German uniform and a gun. What he didn’t count on was hearing that infernal Cockney accent coming through the fog not far ahead. He cursed and hid himself behind a tree. 

“Cor! It’s cold enough to freeze brass monkeys out ‘ere! Hurry it up, mate! This is ridiculous!”

Andrew Carter answered him cheerfully. “This? This is nothing. Back home--” 

Newkirk interrupted him before he could get started. “I know, this is a balmy spring day back home. Let’s go!”

When a man had to sneeze, a man had to sneeze. Chase tried to hold it in, but he felt his face bulging with it. His older sister had once told him holding in a sneeze would break all the bones in his face. He wasn’t sure he believed her, but he couldn’t help letting this one go. He sneezed. And it wasn’t quiet.

The two soldiers went on immediate alert, looking around. And dropping into the snow to hide. But someone was out there, and Newkirk wasn’t moving till he knew who it was.

Chase stayed behind the tree. He knew Newkirk was still out there, and he couldn’t afford to be seen. He pressed up against the trunk and then… he sneezed again. Finally, he knew he had to move. He peered around the trunk, looking for the prisoners. He didn’t see them anywhere, so he stepped out into the open.

“Don’t move or you’re a dead man.” Newkirk’s voice was deadly serious.

Hands raised, Chase tried to make light of the situation. “It’s only me, mate! You’re acting as if I were a German patrol.” 

“Just walk and don’t stop. Unless you want a bullet in the back.”

Chase chuckled nervously. “You said don’t move and now you say just walk. I’m not sure what you want.” 

Newkirk cocked his gun. He was through playing games. ‘Walk.”

“I’m walking. I’m walking.” He set one foot in front of another, his eyes darting around, seeking a way to escape. At some point, he should be able to sneak off into the fog.

Newkirk noticed the head movement. “Don’t try it. I’ve a hair trigger and a temper to match. You won’t make it. And Carter here has you covered as well.”

“What do you have against me, man? I don’t know how I have offended you.” 

“We’ll let the colonel discuss that with you. Now shut up and keep walking. Carefully.”

He did as Newkirk said, disappointed that the opportunity to escape never materialized. If only he had found the cache and weapon before they’d caught him.

They got back to the tree stump and Andrew went first, then Chase, with Newkirk’s pistol at his head, then Newkirk. 

“I really don’t know what all the fuss is about,” Chase said as he descended the ladder. “I just needed a little fresh air.” 

Olsen turned to Hogan and said, “He started it.” 

“I started it?!” Chase’s eyes widened in feigned shock. “You came at me, you little liar. I’d wager you’re a traitor! I only punched you to defend myself.” 

Olsen remained calm and looked at Hogan. “Well?”

Hogan shrugged. “You know what I said. Seems justified to me.”

And Olsen hauled off and punched Chase silly. Then looked at Hogan. “Thank you. Sir.”

Chase staggered backward and threw up a hand. “What!” he sputtered, then spit out a tooth. 

Hogan looked at Chase. “If you’re gonna call one of my men a traitor, you’d better be prepared to take the consequences.”

“You’re all traitors. In collusion with that… that…” Chase’s head was spinning and his face throbbing. He balled up a fist and shook it because he couldn’t come up with anything more to say.

Hogan looked at Chase once again. “The sub will be here to take you to London in two days. I suggest you behave yourself until then. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” He tried to mask the reluctance with which he responded, but it was difficult. “Just get me home.” 

“We will. I promise that.”

You only think you will. I’ll get back out and find my cache and then I’ll take care of you all. Starting with Newkirk. Chase nodded. “Look,” he said, “I need to get back to bed. Maybe see the doc about my jaw.” 

Hogan nodded. “I’ll talk to Sgt. Wilson for you. See what he can do to help you. Why don’t you just try to get some sleep for now.”

“Fine.” He started back down the tunnel toward the room he’d been given, hoping they’d leave him alone now. Maybe he could get past them and up into the barracks. But Newkirk and Olsen kept too close and he had no choice but to go back to his cot.

Hogan did indeed go and talk to Wilson who came to see Chase, who had fallen asleep. That was his mistake. Because he never even felt the shot that sedated him for the next 48 hours. He never knew when they moved him out of the tunnel and into a wagon for his trip to the coast. He woke up on the submarine just as it was getting underway.

He found himself lying in a bunk, one arm shackled to the wall. None of the other bunks in the small room were occupied. He was gagged and his other arm was bound to his side. His feet were also bound. He was truly a prisoner. His eyes went side to side as he tried to figure out what was going on. 

Suddenly someone came into his peripheral vision. “‘Allo mate,” Newkirk said venomously. “Promised you we’d send you home, and we are. London knows what to do with traitors, Gunther. They ‘ang ‘em.”

Chase’s eyes went wide as he realized what Newkirk was saying. He was also intensely aware of Newkirk’s knife close to his ear. He wanted to complain, to fight, to get off this sub, but they’d made it impossible for him. As he watched Newkirk turn away and stroll out the hatch, his stomach sank in dismay. “High Speed” Chase finally understood that his days were numbered.

The End

[takaraphoenix]

London Calling

Tags: m/m, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, Pack Feels, True Mates, Spark Stiles, fluff, hurt/comfort, grief/mourning, post Nogitsune, post canon, m/f

Main Pairing: Derek/Stiles

Side Pairings: Chris/Sheriff, Boyd/Erica, Jackson/Lydia

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

@writersmonth Prompts: passion + tattoo parlor

Summary: After graduation, Stiles decides to go with Lydia, who is heading to London, to be with her mate, Jackson, from whom she'd been separated for too long now. Stiles knows the Hale Pack has moved to London, reformed there. They know Lydia is coming, but they don't know about Stiles yet.

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London Calling

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

The first member of the Hale Pack to leave Beacon Hills had been Jackson, only weeks after he even became a member of the pack. His parents had packed up, uprooted the young beta and moved to London. The Hales had contacted a pack in London that Peter's father, Derek's grandfather, had been allied to and asked if they would keep an eye on Jackson.

That had happened before Cora even rejoined the Hale Pack, before she ever met her brother in his function as the new Alpha. Apparently, Jackson and Lydia's love and mate-bond had broken the kanima curse and they had been insufferable since then (though, according to Stiles, they had been insufferable before that too). Not that Cora saw a lot of them together, since Lydia was still living in Beacon Hills. But the mated pair made it work, with phone-calls and video-chats and by Lydia spending every single vacation in London to see Jackson (which were the times Cora had to endure them together and she had to admit that they were an exhausting couple).

When Cora joined the pack, she had first and foremost joined Erica and Boyd. The three of them had been bonded by trauma, by their captivity at the hands of the Alpha pack. The pack-bond forged between the three during these months was a strong one. It was what made Erica and Boyd stay in Beacon Hills and rejoin the Hale Pack, even though they'd first been captivated because they'd left the pack and had meant to leave Beacon Hills. And Cora herself, she… She couldn't say what would have happened if she hadn't formed these two strong bonds, because Peter and Derek had been total strangers to her, too much time had passed, they'd grown apart. But she stayed.

Well, she stayed, until they all left. Derek, Peter, Cora, Boyd and Erica. The remaining Hale Pack.

Scott claimed that Beacon Hills was too small for two packs, but Cora knew better. The real reason why Scott wanted them gone had been because Derek was growing more and more into a good Alpha, was learning how to lead and care. And there were three pack members who were with one foot in each pack. Lydia, whose mate-bond to Jackson did tie her to the Hale Pack. Isaac, who had been Derek's beta first and then grown apart from him during the months Erica and Boyd had been lost and had become Scott's beta, but who still held a tie to Derek, especially after Boyd and Erica were saved. And Stiles, Stiles whose fierce loyalty made it so he couldn't turn his back on the Hales even as his ties laid with his best friend and brother by anything but blood.

Derek's pack was stronger – Jackson, even in London, Peter and Cora, Boyd and Erica. While Scott had been a young Alpha, with barely a pack to speak of, and the majority of them with one foot in the Hale Pack. It was a power move, to strengthen his own claim and pack.

The tension between the two packs had steadily grown, but for too long, Derek refused to leave. Because he didn't want to leave his family's land, the last thing they had left of their family's legacy, and even more so, he didn't want to leave his mate. Even though he never told Stiles. In the end, Derek gave in. Because he didn't want to cause tension between Stiles and Scott, thought he was doing right by Stiles. So the Hale Pack left Beacon Hills for good, together.

The Hale Pack left, for London, because if they had to leave Beacon Hills, why not the place where one of their pack-mates was already living. And it was good. Cora actually liked it better than her return to Beacon Hills – because Beacon Hills was filled with memories and sadness and death and even more recently, the memory of her abduction and captivity and nearly dying when the darach had poisoned her. Beacon Hills was pain. London was a full, fresh new start. A place where the Hale Pack was allowed to grow and be happy. It hadn't been hard to convince Erica and Boyd's families to let them leave, after pulling some strings with the help of the London Pack to get them into a really good school. A little white lie about a scholarship and their parents were on board with it.

Things in Beacon Hills took a turn for the worse, because of course it did, it always did. All the more reason to leave it behind. Stiles got possessed by a demon. Not that they knew, at first. When Lydia called them in tears, she told them that Stiles was dying, of the same disease that had killed his mother. They returned to Beacon Hills, because he was Derek's mate, because he shared a similar trauma-bond with Erica and Boyd as Cora did, because he was pack.

He didn't die. He was possessed. A demon used his body to kill people. And though Stiles already had bonds with Erica and Boyd, that was when his bond with Jackson formed. Both having been used to kill against their will. They started texting, near daily. Cora knew. There was a special look on Jackson's face when he was texting Stiles.

When the Hale Pack had returned to London, Isaac had gone with them. After Allison's death, he couldn't stay. And seeing the Hale Pack again had reignited his bonds with them. He sought his family, his first pack, for comfort and companionship. Isaac found his place among the pack with ease, the change in scenery helped him heal.

And as graduation was growling closer and closer, the pack prepared for another member to move to them. Because Lydia had stayed in Beacon Hills for certain reasons, being a minor, still going to high school and having divorced parents who were trying to make up for neglect and failure of the past by being a bit overbearing now. Now that she was a legal adult and had graduated high school, she planned on joining their pack officially, to live with his mate.

Cora dreaded it a little to have those two be disgustingly in love all over the pack house every day, but she was happy for Jackson. Though she hadn't found her own mate yet, she knew how important and cherished True Mates were among wolves. Besides, gaining another pack-member would strengthen their pack further.

"It is funny to see Jackson clean," Erica pointed out, cackling.

She was holding her phone so she could take pictures of Jackson. Jackson glared at her and flipped her off before he returned to his task of cleaning the downstairs windows. Peter and Derek had bought a large, beautiful house near Hyde Park when they first got there. Gradually, over the past year that they'd lived here, it had turned into a proper home. Every member of the pack had their own room upstairs, and though some days Cora was annoyed by Jackson or Isaac or Derek, she also loved this feeling of pack, had missed this sense of family and community. Her pack in Mexico had been good, but… it had been different, it hadn't been family.

"Are you sending that to Lydia?" Isaac asked amused.

"No," Erica huffed. "She knows that Jackson is gonna do everything to make the place impressive and 'worthy' of her. I'm sending this to Stiles so he can get a laugh out of it."

Cora noted the tenseness to her brother's shoulders, at every mention of Stiles' name. Mates were meant to be together and though Lydia and Jackson had spent most of the past two years apart, their mate-bond had at least been sealed and Lydia regularly visited. Derek had never even told Stiles – there was always some kind of tragedy that got in the way, or them leaving, and he thought it would be unfair to tell Stiles, just to then leave, or worse yet, to make Stiles choose. Cora thought that was frustrating and stupid, but she also understood. Loss was the most formative thing in Derek's life and the thought of losing his mate, in any way, was too much to bear.

"Where is Stiles going to college anyway?" Cora asked after a moment.

She was probably the only one in the pack to not have regular contact with Stiles. Erica and Boyd had their bond from being captured and tortured by Gerard Argent and it had forged a deep friendship that stayed strong even as the two betas left. Jackson and Stiles, even though they hadn't been friends before Jackson left Beacon Hills, had formed a strong bond over the similar experiences of being the kanima and being possessed by the Nogitsune. Isaac and Stiles, having been in the McCall Pack together for so long, already had a pack-bond that didn't weaken even as Isaac moved to London. Even Peter was in regular contact with Stiles – Stiles was still working on translating the entirety of the Argent bestiary, while Peter was still adding onto the Hale bestiary and the two of them worked together on making it one big database. Cora had been in Beacon Hills for too short a time, too wrapped up in her own trauma and the revelation that two members of her family were still alive, to really make friends, but she liked to imagine that if things had been different, if she had gotten to spend more time with Stiles, she too would be friends with him.

"He hasn't decided yet," Jackson replied, scrubbing excessively on one spot. "Also, grab a damn rag and help, you losers. This is your house too, how the fuck is it ever clean at all."

"I have a maid come by once a week," Peter tagged on delighted.

Cora waved a hand. "What do you mean he hasn't decided yet, graduation is in a few days."

"He's taking a gap-year," this time it was Erica who replied, a small smile on her lips, though it was more sad than happy. "He kind of never really…"

"He never actually dealt with the possession," Jackson cut in, voice sharp, curt, filled with a restrained sense of rage and pain, a reflection of his own experiences with the kanima. "He pushed it down and he kept going, because he couldn't afford to take a couple months off to heal. Between school, which he didn't want to fail, and the McCall Pack literally being useless without him and Lyd, he dealt with it as best as he could while also dealing with a shit-ton of other stuff."

Cora hummed and she saw the pained look on Derek's face, the way her brother clenched his fists at his sides. Helplessness was never going to be a look she'd get used to seeing on his face. But this wasn't something Derek could fix, something Derek could protect his mate from. The pain had already happened and Stiles needed to fight through it. Healing was something only he could do.

"That sounds good," Isaac spoke softly, grabbing a rag and turning away from the pack. "I hope he gets out of Beacon Hills, even just for a while… I think that would help him."

Because it had helped him. It had helped him to get out of that cursed town. It had helped all of them, and Cora could see it in the faces of every member of her pack. She could see it in her own face. Getting out of Beacon Hills after the fire had allowed her to heal from the loss and leaving again, for London, had helped her move on from what the Alpha Pack and the darach had done.

She may not be close to Stiles, but she genuinely hoped that he'd find a way to get better.

/break\

The sheriff and Chris Argent went to the same grief group for widowers. Years ago, when Noah finally realized he had to sober up, he had to do better, be better, to be there for his son, for the family he still had, he had started going to these meetings. After Victoria's death, Noah had suggested the same to Chris. Ever since, the two went there together. They grew closer.

It was only after Allison's death that this closeness turned into something more, a friendship born from mutual support and a shared understanding of grief turned into the main pillar that kept Chris going after he lost his only child. Over the past two years, Chris had just lost too much. His sister, his wife, his father, now his daughter. He had nothing left, nobody left. Only the Stilinskis.

Not just the sheriff, but also Stiles. Because Allison's death had to mean something, he needed it to mean something, to have a purpose, to not have been in vein. She'd died when they all tried to save Stiles, so Chris? Chris needed Stiles to be safe. He needed Stiles to be safe, because his daughter had died to make sure Stiles would be safe.

For a long time, Stiles didn't understand that. He thought that Chris should hate him, should blame him for Allison's death. He'd yelled all of that at Chris, one evening, when Chris was over at the Stilinski home for dinner and him and the sheriff acted so unbearably normal and kind, in a manner that Stiles didn't deserve or understand. He yelled, and cried, and broke down.

How could they be so kind to him? How could Chris be kind to him? How could Chris even look at him? He couldn't even look at himself, all he saw in the mirror was the twisted sneer of the Nogitsune, all he saw was Allison's blood on his hands.

Chris had hugged him, hugged him and held him and... cried with him. Stiles didn't know how long the two sat on the kitchen floor, crying together. His dad had put dinner away into the fridge and given them some privacy, at one point, retreating to the living room.

"She died to save you," Chris had said, voice rough with tears. "We all fought to save you, Stiles. You didn't kill her, kid. A demon did, a demon that used you. You're... You're as much a victim of it as she was, but you survived and I need to... I need to cling onto that. That you survived, that she didn't die for nothing, that she... that we managed what we set out to do."

Stiles hadn't known what to say to that. So he just sat there and continued crying quietly, remembering every time Allison had smiled at him, joked with him, been his friend.

It took so much longer for Stiles to get... better. He wasn't good, he still wasn't good. He still had the nightmares, but they were more irregular these days. He still counted his fingers, by now a nervous habit really, just pressing his thumbs against each of his fingers one by one.

He got his first tattoo three months after the possession. After he sat down at the kitchen table with his dad and Chris, who at that point was over at the Stilinski home more often than he wasn't, and he told them that he still struggled with what was real. He counted his fingers, but it didn't always feel like enough. Reading, seeing that words were real, that helped.

He needed to carry words with him, wherever he went, so he could check, see if he could read them, know that he was awake. He wanted a tattoo. A simple phrase This is real, written out on his wrist. To make it more meaningful, he'd chosen his mother's handwriting – they had so many examples of it in her cookbooks and it wasn't hard to put the phrase together in her writing.

He was seventeen, couldn't get a tattoo without his dad's permission. But after hearing the reason behind it, the idea for it and how Stiles imagined the execution, his dad signed the permission for him to get the tattoo, because this wasn't a silly teen idea that Stiles would regret, this was something that helped him get better. And it did, it really did help, he could feel himself calming down much easier now that he could look at the words and know it was real.

He got his second tattoo three months after. Stiles... needed it. A silver arrow through his heart, with the Argents' family motto. We protect those who can't protect themselves. Because that was what they did, what they all did, that was what Allison had done when she had died. She'd tried to protect Stiles when he couldn't protect himself. His father had found it hard to deny Stiles this time either. Chris went to the tattoo parlor with Stiles and got a matching tattoo, to honor his daughter.

Both of those tattoos helped him. Grounded him.

His dad and Chris helped and grounded him too. Stiles could see the gradual shift in their relationship and one day, Chris simply stopped leaving. One day, Stiles came home and found the two men curled together on the couch, holding each other in a manner that was much more intimate than a hug between friends. One day, Chris just became a part of the Stilinski household.

While Stiles had his support at home, he slowly felt like he was losing the pack.

There were so many new people, people who had joined after the Nogitsune, people Scott had accepted into the pack. People Stiles didn't really have bonds with, people he… never cared enough to get to know, or who never really cared enough to get to know him. People who had no way of ever truly understanding, because they hadn't been there, hadn't lived through the things Stiles, Lydia, Scott, Allison and Isaac had gone through, had seen since the beginning. Even Malia and Kira understood more, had suffered through more with them. But those that came after, it… felt like a whole different pack, like there was a cut, a line drawn, and Stiles was on the other side.

His friendship with Scott wasn't what it used to be either, and maybe that factored into why Stiles didn't feel the same bond to the newer pack members. Though now, looking back, he wondered for just how long it had been like this. It wasn't just Allison's death that had broken something, their friendship had cracked long before. What truly broke it though was Theo, was how easily Scott let himself be manipulated by Theo. Believing Theo over Stiles, accusing Stiles of murdering Donovan, when it had been self-defense, not even asking for Stiles' side of the story, not believing Stiles. That night, those accusations, their friendship never recovered from.

On paper, he was still in the pack. Stiles still attended mandatory pack meetings, but he stuck to the background. He gradually offered less and less solutions, voiced less and less of his suspicions, because he wasn't being heard anyway. Neither him nor Scott really named it, the fact that Stiles wasn't really pack anymore, that they had grown apart. They simply… lived side by side.

Maybe he would have left, should have left, but Beacon Hills was where his dads were living, and he wanted to graduate here. He would bide his time until. And he wasn't all alone.

He still had Lydia, always had Lydia. The grief over losing Allison had brought them so much closer, even though, much like with Chris, Stiles had thought she should hate him.

Isaac left. He couldn't stay, after losing Allison, couldn't bear this place where his mother and brother had died, where his father had abused him, where he had now lost Allison. And Stiles understood. The blonde had ducked his head, looking guilty as he stood in Stiles' bedroom one night, telling him that he'd leave. But Stiles understood. He hugged Isaac and told him to say hi to the Hales, at which Isaac had looked at him in surprise.

Like Stiles didn't know where Isaac stood. With one foot in each pack. Isaac's relationship with Scott had been strained over his feelings for Allison already, but now with Allison's death, Isaac didn't feel like much was holding him here. Isaac had no reason not to follow his original pack.

There was a pang of longing in Stiles' heart at the thought.

Stiles imagined that having the Hale Pack back in Beacon Hills, even just for a short while, must have had a similar effect on Isaac as it did on Stiles. The Hales had come back, when they thought Stiles was dying. They had all hugged him and cried with him and he'd curled against Derek's chest, crying for an hour. But then Stiles survived and the demon was exorcised and the Hales all had a life in London – the betas all went to school, Peter and Derek had jobs. And so they'd left again.

The sense of longing was near physical, it ached in Stiles' chest.

His third tattoo was one that he got on his eighteenth birthday, without telling his dads first. Because he knew they both would disapprove of that one. He went back to the tattoo parlor and got a giant, beautifully detailed black fox on his back, curling around the symbol for self. It was a constant reminder, a manifestation of his guilt but also of his survival. A promise, both to himself and to Allison, that now that he was himself again he would be himself. However he was going to manage that, because he still struggled with it at times.

Graduation was coming up and Chris took him aside. Told him that he needed to live. At first, Stiles didn't understand, thought that he did. Allison had died, so Stiles had to live. Chris sighed.

"You're not living, kid," Chris said, voice rough and distant. "You're surviving. You have been surviving since the possession. I know there's a lot of trauma you've been working through, you kept your grades up through it all, you kept helping keep this town safe, but… that is all you do. You haven't lived since then. You keep your head down and you continue, but you don't start."

"I don't…" Stiles frowned at him in confusion.

"You haven't had a girlfriend since things between you and Malia ended, you haven't made any new friends, I know you keep your distance to the newer members of the pack, you… don't really spend time with anyone but Lydia, Malia and Kira anymore. You need to live, make new experiences, have fun, laugh, spend time with the people you love, fall in love."

Do all the things Allison would never get to do again, was left unsaid but both Stiles and Chris could feel it in their bones. He ducked his head and leaned into Chris, receiving a hug. Chris was right, Stiles hadn't really lived since Allison had died, he'd been so busy struggling to survive, he hadn't even had time to consider living yet. But now, he was doing better, he was on the right path.

"You need to leave this place," Chris whispered against his hair, still hugging him. "You need to get out before this city kills you too, and you need to find a place where you can be happy, kid."

Stiles tensed in his arms. Leaving Beacon Hills wasn't something he'd ever considered. This was his home, this was where his dad lived, worked, he couldn't leave. He was all his dad had… No, that wasn't true anymore. Blinking, he looked up at Chris. His dad wasn't alone anymore. There was someone who loved his dad, who watched out that his dad would eat healthy even when Stiles was busy. There was someone living in the Stilinski house, so his dad wasn't alone anymore.

"Chris is right, kiddo," Noah stepped into the kitchen, looking at them both with sad but loving eyes. "You aren't happy here, I haven't… I haven't seen you happy in a long time. I know your friends are all doing better, no longer living here, and maybe it will help you too. All I want for you is to be happy, kiddo. I'll be fine, don't let me hold you back."

Chris and Stiles opened their hug for Noah, allowing the sheriff to join them. They were right. He wasn't happy here and this place had been slowly killing him since the night Scott got bitten. Maybe it was time to leave before this town could finish him off.

/break\

The pack was buzzing with excitement as they were gathered at the airport, waiting for Lydia's arrival. This kind of energy, it made Derek feel... serene. His pack, together, all eagerly awaiting their newest member. They'd come a long way from the three teens he'd turned two years ago, from the in-fighting when Scott had briefly joined the pack, the strain of turning Jackson and him leaving Beacon Hills near immediately, the tension when Boyd and Erica had been returned and how awkward things had been when Cora first joined the pack.

Moving to London had been the right call. They were happier here. They were happy here. They had the chance to fully grow into a pack, to form deep, meaningful pack-bonds.

And Derek was eager himself, for Lydia to properly join his pack. Ever since Derek had relocated the pack to London, she had become more and more a member of this pack. With every visit to London, to be with her mate, with every video-call between Jackson and Lydia that Erica and Cora and later on Isaac and occasionally even Boyd would butt in. She had been forming pack-bonds with them all for months now. And still, when she actually called him, told him that she wanted to leave Beacon Hills behind and had applied to a university in London so she could be with Jackson and then formally asked Derek if he would accept her into his pack, that had meant a lot to him.

He was an Alpha whom betas chose. Boyd and Erica chose to rejoin the pack, after they'd been saved from the Alpha Pack. Cora had chosen not to leave for Mexico again. Jackson had chosen to be with their pack, even though he could have stayed with the local pack that had kept an eye on him until the Hale Pack moved to London. Jackson and Lydia, together, could have chosen to leave for a different place entirely. Isaac chose to come to them, after Allison's death.

He had a strong, happy, good pack. He was... happy. A feeling he still sometimes struggled with, the survivor's guilt usually made him remember Laura and their family, those he had lost. But he'd been working with a therapist on this, on the fact that he deserved to live, to be happy.

There was still a hole in his chest, a Stiles-shaped hole that left an ache in his heart, but he was going to fix it, he was finally going to move forward. He'd never dared to tell Stiles that they were mates. At first, because he thought the teen was mostly annoying and the age-difference mortified him. But the more often Stiles saved his life, the more Stiles proved himself to be strong and fierce and loyal, the more Derek could see why fate had chosen him as Derek's mate.

However, at that point, something seemed to always get in the way. After Scott and Stiles officially joined his pack, Derek had been overjoyed and was readying himself to actually tell Stiles. And then Scott had betrayed Derek's trust, left his pack after using him like a weapon, a tool, in his plan against Gerard Argent. And with Scott, Stiles left the pack too. Derek spent months bitter, deliberately not telling Stiles because he'd felt betrayed by his mate too.

While the Alpha Pack and the darach attacked, him and Stiles grew closer again. When Derek finally learned that Stiles had had no hand in Scott's plans against Gerard, that Stiles hadn't approved of it – that Stiles and Scott even had a fight about it – it was already too late. Scott was a True Alpha and the two packs in the small town were edging on, until Derek conceded and left.

Too many bad memories, too much loss. He wasn't ready to risk his pack in an actual fight against Scott's pack, if it came to that. And the longer they coexisted, the more it felt like that was where things were headed. A fresh start, somewhere new, maybe it'd help them all, was what he'd thought.

With no concrete destination otherwise, he decided to follow his first beta. He'd never gotten the chance to be a proper Alpha to Jackson before Jackson had left. He was glad that the local packs – London was a big city, it housed multiple packs who peacefully coexisted and even had alliances between them – all welcomed them with open arms.

Derek had thought it unfair to tell Stiles just as they were leaving and he saw no point in telling Stiles with the pack living in London, he'd never want to make Stiles feel like he had to choose, between his home where his dad and Scott and all his friends lived, and Derek.

When they returned to Beacon Hills, when they thought Stiles was dying – and Derek's wolf still curled together in pain at the memory of that feeling, at the memory of how small and fragile and exhausted Stiles had been in that hospital – Derek wanted to tell him. He didn't want to lose Stiles without Stiles ever knowing how much he meant to Derek. Before he had the chance to, did they realize that Stiles wasn't dying, not of a human sickness anyway. He was possessed.

After that, with the trauma Stiles had suffered, with the loss of Allison hanging heavily over their heads, it had felt selfish to tell Stiles the truth. He had so much to deal with, he shouldn't have to deal with Derek's feelings, on top of everything else.

And so Derek and his pack had left once more, returning to London. Words left unspoken.

Things were changing though. Lydia was joining their pack, because the betas had graduated high school. Stiles was eighteen now, which had also been part of why Derek kept looking for excuses not to tell Stiles. He never wanted to be like Kate, he never wanted to be unsure if he was coercing Stiles, because Stiles had been young and might feel like he was obligated to do anything just because of a mate-bond he couldn't feel to its full extend – yes, humans could feel the mate-bond, but to a werewolf, it was different, it was so much stronger.

Now, Stiles was a legal adult, he had graduated high school, both of them were in a better place, having worked through at least parts of their respective trauma. Once Lydia was properly settled in, Derek planned on traveling to Beacon Hills to see Stiles and finally tell him.

"Lydia!" Jackson's entire face lit up when he saw his mate.

She grinned and ran up to him, jumping into his arms to be whirled around by Jackson. They kissed, slow and deep and entirely getting inappropriate for the public. Derek cleared his throat, looking away. He understood, they'd last seen each other during spring break. They were mates, they shouldn't be kept apart. It made Derek feel warm, a pleasant sense of comfort at the thought that the two would get to be together now. That his betas would get to be with their mate.

"Put. Her. Down," Erica growled, shoving Jackson. "Share."

Jackson growled back but he still put his mate down so the other betas could get to scent mark and greet her too. Now that she was pack, she needed to smell like pack. Derek smiled to himself, standing back together with Peter and waiting for the pups to get their fill first.

"You smell like Stiles," Isaac noted as he nuzzled Lydia's neck. "Is that the surprise you said you'd bring for the pack? Did you scent-mark Stiles before you came so we can have some Stiles?"

The smile on Derek's lips turned a little softer as he watched Boyd shove his own mate away, not without Erica growling in protest, so he could also scent-mark Lydia and smell Stiles on her. Before coming, Lydia had called Jackson and ominously said she had a surprise for the pack. Derek crossed his arms tightly, trying to keep himself from going to Lydia and pushing the betas out of the way so he could inhale every last trace of his mate on his new pack-member.

"Not exactly. If you want more au de Stiles, she brought you the source."

The pack froze in place – which, in the case of the betas was somewhat a hilarious image, because Boyd was curled against Lydia's back, while Erica and Isaac were in the middle of shoving each other to get the left side of Lydia's neck, Cora nuzzling her cheek against Lydia's right cheek, Jackson in the middle of kissing Lydia. All pausing like some kind of statue. Though Derek couldn't blame them, he was holding his breath too, eyes widening at the sound of that voice. He turned.

Coming up behind Lydia, pushing the cart with so many bags and suitcases, it looked like Lydia had decided to bring all of her belongings onto this flight already, was Stiles. Stiles stopped the cart and stepped around it, aiming a carefree grin at the pack. He was real, this was really Stiles. Wearing skinny-jeans and a blood-red hoodie. His hair was a little longer than the last time Derek had seen him. He looked good, really good. Not so sickly pale anymore, the deep bags beneath his eyes were gone, his cheeks not as hollowed out. Healthy. He looked healthy again, no longer made to believe he was going to die, no longer possessed, but rather recovering. He was beautiful, he was everything, he was right here, in London, just a few meters away from Derek.

"Stiles!" Erica yelled, her voice pitching, before she launched herself at him.

Isaac growled, hot on her heels and also attaching himself to Stiles. Boyd grabbed Isaac by the waist to lift him out of the way so he could get a Stiles hug first. Stiles just laughed, a bright and beautiful sound, as he was being wrapped up by the Hale Pack's three original betas. With a heavy sigh did Lydia smack Jackson's arm to give him the go-ahead and the next moment, Jackson was also nosing Stiles' neck. Lydia used the opportunity to give Cora a proper hug.

"You brought us Stiles," Isaac grinned at Lydia from where he was resting his chin on Stiles' head.

"Can we keep him?" Erica turned large, pleading eyes and a pout on Derek. "Ple—ease, I promise I'll feed him and take him on walks."

"Brats," Stiles heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Okay, okay, enough scent-marking the Stiles in public, people are starting to stare, I feel like they think I have a harem, off, puppies."

Once the betas were all pushed off, Stiles took a tentative step toward Derek, a soft half-smile on his lips as he waved. "Hey, Sourwolf. Miss me?"

Miss me? Derek choked on the emotions bubbling up in him. Missing didn't even begin to cover what Derek had felt. Pure, raw yearning, a longing so overwhelming he was drowning in it. Until this very moment, he hadn't realized just how bad it really was. It had been easier to push down and ignore while he could focus on his pack. Seeing Stiles like this? So close? Close enough that Derek could smell him? It hit him like running head-first into a brick-wall.

With a deep growl rumbling in his chest did Derek stride forward, until Stiles was right in front of him. Those big, warm doe-eyes stared up at him in surprise when Stiles got wrapped up in the Alpha's arms and pulled into a tight, all-consuming hug. The rumbling grew softer, more pleased and content, as Derek buried his nose in Stiles' neck, rubbing it. More content rumbling when his mate readily bared his throat for better access. A small laugh escaped Stiles, his fingers entangling in Derek's shirt, holding onto him too, returning the hug.

"Yeah," Stiles' voice cracked a little. "I missed you too."

"I do think that was enough PDA overall, how about you bring us to the pack house?" Lydia piped up. "We had a dreadfully long flight with even more dreadful food. I need a shower and dinner."

"Actually, seconded," Stiles turned a bit in Derek's arms, regarding the betas. "Uhm. Sourwolf? You would have to let me go so we can leave."

Oh, Derek hated that idea. He would prefer to stand here for another hour or two, simply holding his mate, soaking in that unique scent of honey, chili and lightning. Huffing softly, Stiles gave him a light shove, at which the Alpha reluctantly let go of his mate.

"It's good to see you again, Stiles," Peter said, resting a hand in Stiles' neck. "You look good."

Stiles let him, leaning into the touch some, still grinning. "I feel good."

The betas went to get Lydia and Stiles' luggage – Stiles had luggage, Stiles was here. The only reason Derek had been able to let go of his mate was because he would get to take Stiles home with him, get Stiles into the pack house for the first time, get the pack house to smell like Stiles.

Once in the parking deck, Peter clapped his hands once and turned to stare at the betas expectantly. "Everyone, into the SUVs. No, not everybody can drive with Stiles."

Cora was the first one to willingly get into Peter's SUV, having the least connection to Stiles. Lydia and Jackson joined her, getting into the backseats, mostly because Lydia had gotten to spend so much time with Stiles already and Jackson primarily wanted to be with his mate right now. Derek got into his own car, watching Isaac climb into the passenger seat and smiling a little when Stiles ended up sandwiched between Boyd and Erica, the mated pair rubbing against Stiles from either side. Those three had had a profound bond ever since the basement. Derek's grip on the steering wheel tightened at that thought, the thought of Gerard torturing his betas and his human mate.

"So—o tired," Stiles groaned and leaned his head against Boyd's shoulder. "There was a screaming toddler sitting in the row behind me… Ple—ease tell me your pack house is actually big enough to have a guest room I can crash in because… I had considered calling ahead to ask if I can crash with you, but then I thought a surprise would be much more fun. Lydia said you would have room for me and it wouldn't be a problem, but now that I'm actually here-"

"There will always be room for you," Derek interrupted him lowly.

"Cheesy," Stiles looked utterly pleased. "Awesome. Oh. Oh, you guys totally have to show me around, I've never been to London. I mean. I've never been anywhere aside from Poland."

"You've been to Poland?" Erica asked, dragging her nose over his collarbone.

"Well, not in… a long time," Stiles' smile turned a bit sad. "I went when I was little, with my mom, to visit her family. My grandpa, my actual name sake."

"Mitch-is-love," Isaac dragged it out, the sounds heavy and awkward.

"So close and yet so far," Stiles gave a startled laugh. "You know, it used to bother me, hearing people try and butcher my name, but… it's kind of endearing with you guys. You try."

"It's more of a whaff than a love," Boyd corrected Isaac after a moment.

Stiles hummed, looking so happy as he melted between Boyd and Erica, who were both holding hands on top of Stiles' lap. Derek's heart felt full and warm when he looked at his betas and his mate, all content and together. That hole in his chest, it was slowly filling.

"We're here," Isaac announced when they pulled into their driveway.

"Wow," Stiles whispered in awe, staring at the Hale Villa. "Okay. Lyds was not exaggerating. Damn. It pays to have a Sugar Alpha, huh, guys."

Erica made gagging noises. "Don't ever call him that again or I will throw up."

She shoved Stiles, just making him laugh. As soon as they got out of the car did Derek practically herd Stiles into the house, earning a very amused look from the human. Where did he want Stiles first? Bed. No. Not a realistic place to get Stiles to go. Not yet. But now that he was here, Derek could tell him, could start courting him, could… ask the impossible question. Give Stiles a choice. Because it wasn't about making Stiles choose, it was about giving Stiles a choice.

"Want me in the living room?" Stiles guessed, a knowing smile on his lips. "Make the den smell more like me and give the betas more time to smother me. Sorry, 'scent mark' me."

Derek gave an affirmative grunt. That was part of what he loved the most about Stiles. Stiles understood Derek, understood him but also his culture. Stiles had always done his research, learned about werewolves and even when he lacked the natural instincts, he never acted like what the wolves did was weird, he accepted it, embraced it, even reciprocated it. Scent-marking them back, without anyone having to explain to him what it was. He knew, he accepted, he understood.

"Stilinski," Jackson grunted as he caught up to them and wrapped an arm around Stiles' waist to pull him close. "The fuck did you not say that you were coming, you asshole."

"Missed you too, Jackass," Stiles laughed, leaning his bead back against Jackson's chest. "It's called a surprise and telling the other party kinda ruins the purpose."

"So you're spending your gap-year traveling then?" Boyd asked curiously. "Made us the first stop?"

The look on Stiles' face turned a little more sober and maybe even an edge of nervous. "No."

Jackson growled a little. "Can't believe I'm saying this, but… use more words, Stilinski."

Stiles wiggled free of the beta and turned to look at Derek, searching the Alpha's face. What for, Derek couldn't guess, but he liked having Stiles' attention. And he liked the way Stiles looked standing in his living room, like he belonged right here, surrounded by the betas.

"Well, that depends on your glorious Alpha," Stiles' grin turned mischievous as he tilted his head, baring his throat to Derek. "Alpha Hale, I, Mieczysław Stilinski, formally ask to join your pack."

The growl ripped from Derek's throat was such a deep, primal sound that it shook the room, his eyes flashing. It wasn't even a conscious decision to step up to Stiles. One second, he was at the other side of the room, the next he had Stiles pinned against the wall, his mouth on Stiles' bared throat. His lips parted, but before he allowed his teeth to scratch soft skin, he paused.

"Stiles-" Derek whispered. "You can't be in two packs. Not fully."

"I know," Stiles' voice broke a little. "I choose you. You're my Alpha, Derek."

What little restrain he had vanished at those words, Derek's wolf taking over as he sank blunt human teeth into soft skin. A soft noise was drawn from Stiles as Derek marked him as pack. There were questions, a hundred questions running through Derek's mind, but all that mattered in that moment was that Stiles was his. Part of his pack, fully, officially, willingly.

"What… just happened," Isaac grunted, blinking slowly. "I mean, I know what happened, but… You left Scott's pack? You? And you're here to stay? For… good?"

"What about your dad?" Erica asked concerned.

Derek pulled away from Stiles, with much difficulty. Now that he was pack, Derek's wolf just wanted to drag Stiles upstairs and make their den smell like their mate. But these were questions that he needed answered too. He'd just claimed Stiles as Hale Pack, which… he had never thought he would get to do, not even if he ever got to claim Stiles as his mate. His unwavering loyalty was what had gotten him dragged into the supernatural to begin with. This had always been the Scott and Stiles Show, everyone else was just on the outside.

"My dads are fine," Stiles chuckled and went to sit on the couch, between Isaac and Jackson. "Two's company, as they say. I… never thought I'd be able to leave Beacon Hills because someone had to take care of my dad, but… now someone is. Chris is watching dad's died like a hawk. Honestly, he might actually worse than me, it's kind of funny. But yeah, I'm… not leaving him alone. And, to be honest, it was kind of Chris who told me to get out of Beacon Hills, to… live, instead of just surviving. Chase my own happiness or something like that."

"And your happiness… led you here?" Isaac's voice was unusually small, filled with hope.

The look on Stiles' face turned more sad as he tilted his head down to stare at his hands, his elbows resting on his knees and his fingers linked between them. There was something heavy there.

"I… never wanted to leave the Hale Pack," Stiles whispered. "I left because Scott left. And then Scott became a True Alpha and… But things are different now."

"How," Cora's voice had an edge to it. "How is it so easy to turn your back on your Alpha and your pack, now. Everyone always talks like your loyalty is your biggest plus point."

Derek gave a low warning growl at his sister, but Stiles simply laughed. Shallow and empty.

"Loyalty can break your neck if it's misplaced," Stiles shrugged and looked up, looked at Cora. "I've been training to be an Emissary for one and a half years now. When I started, I was… so sure… that it would be so I could become Scott's Emissary. But at no point did he ask me. I just assumed, it seemed obvious to me – and to everyone else. But he never asked me, he still got Deaton. I used to be Scott's right hand. And then this guy comes into our lives and it's so easy for him to gain Scott's trust and friendship and manipulate him. I'm not Scott's right hand and I'm not his Emissary and… I haven't really been pack, in a while."

Stiles turned his head, no longer looking at any of them, instead fixating a spot on the ground. "Maybe I would have become his Emissary, maybe I would still be his right hand, but… He can hardly look at me anymore, even when he's trying, and he is trying, but… we've never been the same after Allison's death, we've been growing more and more apart and…"

"He's blaming you for Allison's death?" Jackson growled, eyes flashing blue. "I'm gonna kill him."

The twist of Stiles' lips was hardly a smile. Derek noticed the way Stiles was pressing his thumbs against the pads of his other fingers one by one, over and over again. It made Derek's heart sink. He knew this was a habit Stiles had picked up with the possession. Counting his fingers to ground himself, to remind himself that what was happening was real, that he was awake.

"I don't fault him for that," Stiles whispered. "Can't fault him for that. I did kill her."

"Stiles-" Lydia's voice was pained but also exhausted, like she'd had this conversation a lot.

"I did," Stiles shrugged and looked up at her with tired, broken eyes. "I didn't want to, but… I remember it, and I will forever remember it. The fact that I didn't want to doesn't undo it and it won't let me forget it either. I understand the distinction, Lyds. I know I didn't kill her, in the ways that matter, but… I still remember it like I did. I'm doing better now, I've mostly made my peace with it, but I still sometimes see her blood on my hands and… I can't blame Scott for also seeing it. She was his mate and I killed her and it's a miracle we had any semblance of a relationship left after. But I can't live like that anymore. I can't live in a pack with mostly strangers and with a best friend who can barely look at me, I can't live filled with all the memories of the people it hurt while using my body. Chris is right. I've been surviving, I've been treading water to keep above the surface somehow and to keep breathing, but it's time I just… get out of the water. Before I drown."

"So..." Derek's voice wavered. "So you're really here to stay? With us?"

With me? A voice in Derek's head whispered and screamed at the same time, the pull to his mate overwhelmingly strong now that there was a pulsing pack-bond alongside their unsealed mate-bond.

"If you'll have me," Stiles tilted his head with a small grin, showing off the bite on his neck. "Though, I guess now's too late for you to back out. You're stuck with me."

Seeing his mark on Stiles like that, seeing Stiles show it off like that, it did things to Derek, things that went far beyond love, desire or passion. It was a raw, burning fire at the core of his soul and it felt like it was consuming all of him. Yet at the same time he wasn't scared, he was embracing it, letting it warm him.

"Finally!" Erica yelped and threw herself at Stiles. "Always knew you belonged with us, Batman."

"Oh, you have no idea," Stiles muttered beneath his breath, amused.

Muttering was pretty pointless in a room with werewolves though. Curious looks were aimed Stiles' way and a near bashful smile spread over his lips as he ruffled his hair. His cheeks had a red tint to them that Derek found himself appreciating more than he should.

"I have this theory. About why Scott never asked me to be his Emissary," Stiles explained, fidgeting a little and not looking at Derek. "I mean, beyond the way Deaton lives in his head rent-free. My magic... My magic first manifested when I was part of the Hale Pack, the first time I used it, Derek was my Alpha. I think that maybe a subconscious part of Scott's wolf rejects my magic because it's linked to the Hale Pack."

"Fascinating," Peter sounded far too intrigued. "Perhaps Derek's wolf has had a similar, opposite reaction. Considering we've been living in London as an established and respected pack for well over a year now and still don't have an Emissary."

Derek gave a low warning growl. He'd never done that on purpose. It wasn't like he at any point realistically expected for Stiles to move here, so he hadn't kept the position open with the intention of making Stiles his Emissary.

"It's okay," Stiles shook his head. "I didn't come here for that. I came here to join the pack. Besides, you guys... never really... saw my magic, I mean, I mostly started training it when you already left. Let me stick around for a while and prove myself before you even bring that up, mh?"

"Stiles, you really don't have to prove yourself, to any of us," Boyd noted, raising one eyebrow. "I, very confidently, speak for the whole pack there."

The others made noises of agreement and Stiles flushed again, a pleased look on his face. It was Lydia clearing her throat that drew the attention away from Stiles, for which he seemed grateful.

"I was the one who came here to join the pack, you know."

Lydia gave Derek a look for having been ignored, though it was half-hearted at best because she knew how much the pack had missed Stiles and what a huge, positive surprise this was for them all. Still, the Alpha couldn't help but rub his neck sheepishly at having ignored his newest pack-member. Lydia offered him a small, reassuring smile, before she bared her throat to him.

"Alpha Hale, I, Lydia Martin, formally ask to join the Hale Pack."

Derek's eyes flashed on instinct and he approached her to gently bite her neck too. Another pack-bond snapped into place and filled him with warmth. His. They were now his, his pack.

"How about we get you guys settled in?" Cora suggested after a moment. "There was talk about showers and food. I'll show you an empty room, Stiles, and you two can shower and unpack while we organize some food."

Stiles gave a sharp nod. "That sounds perfect."

/break\

Before he had left Beacon Hills for good, he had done four things. He'd hugged his dads, very tight and very long with many manly tears being shed. He'd gone to the cemetery and visited the graves of his mother and Allison, leaving flowers (he also went to the Hale mausoleum and left flowers there too, he always did when visiting the cemetery). He'd gone to Scott and said his final goodbye to his best friend, officially leaving the pack (there was pain in Scott's eyes but also understanding. They both knew they weren't what they used to be). And he'd gone to his trusted tattoo parlor to get one last tattoo in Beacon Hills.

Their first night as members of the Hale Pack, Lydia and Stiles got treated to an obscene amount of pizza (Stiles had tipped the delivery guy fifty bucks for the hard work of carrying thirty pizzas. He took the money out of Peter's wallet though, so there was that). After, the pack had cuddled up in the very cozy den for a pack pile. That was something Stiles had desperately longed for. The McCall Pack never really did that, Scott still fought too much against his own wolfly instincts. Stiles fell asleep with his head on Boyd's chest, his arms around Isaac and Erica spooning him from behind and he had slept better than in months.

The pack was more than enthusiastic to show him around – Lydia had already gotten various tours during her regular stays, but she was more than happy to play additional tour-guide for Stiles and they both enjoyed the bonding experience with their new pack.

They'd been in London for about a week now and Stiles felt... at home. He'd missed them all so much. When he walked out of his room – his room – and downstairs, he found Boyd and Erica snuggled together on the couch, Erica curled together on her mate's chest, napping instead of fully waking up, denying the day its claim on her just yet. Boyd was running his fingers through her hair, gentle and loving and looking fully content just staring at his sleepy mate.

Isaac sat curled together on the arm-chair next to them, a bowl of cereal on his lap that was most likely 95% sugar, while he watched some cartoon. The beta turned toward Stiles to smile and nod at him in greeting when he noticed.

Reaching the kitchen made Stiles smile. While the pack had an actual chores wheel and was very much behind everyone doing their share, it was apparently mostly Derek who cooked. Stepping up to the Alpha, Stiles brushed his arm against Derek's before taking over the pancakes, since Derek seemed busy with the scrambled eggs. Cooking for a pack of hungry wolves was no small feat.

"You don't have to help," Derek mumbled, eyeing him. "I'm fine here."

"As much as I enjoy being spoiled by your cooking, and I totally am, I'm also used to being the only one who does the cooking," Stiles offered a grin. "So, unless you actually mind, I'd like to help."

A grunt. The affirmative, soft kind. Stiles had missed being able to dissect Derek's grunts and growls and his eyebrows. The grunts and growls translated into phone-calls but the eyebrow language, now that he hadn't gotten to watch in far too long.

"What are you going to do now?" Derek asked after a stretch of companionable silence. "You're not meant to just sit around and do nothing. I think you may actually implode."

"First of all, rude," Stiles huffed and hip-checked Derek with a mild glare. "Second of all... true. I... Honestly, I don't know. I'm not ready for college yet, as much as I love learning, I really do think that I need some... time to myself. Also to get used to this place. I want to learn everything about London, its supernatural history and present. Meet all the local packs and Emissaries, I'm dying to know if there's another Spark in London."

"There is," Derek offered. "The Haynes Pack's Emissary, Marge Cotton, is the Spark of London."

Stiles perked up, visibly so. He'd never actually met another Spark, since they were pretty rare nowadays. Magic users, inherently linked to nature, fueled by it. Usually tied to the land. He'd gotten his magic from the Nemeton of Beacon Hills and he would forever be the Spark of Beacon Hills. But then, to him, Derek would forever be the Alpha of Beacon Hills, so he supposed it was okay if they lived in London for now. One day, they would return home. Together.

"What's for breakfast? O—Oh, is Stiles making pancakes?" Erica asked, sniffing the air.

"How could you possibly know that I'm making the pancakes."

"Cinnamon," Isaac, Boyd and Erica all replied right away.

"You put a dash of cinnamon into the batter, it's a distinct smell," added Jackson gruffly.

He looked like he hadn't gotten much sleep once again (him and Lydia were… very busy catching up). Once he reached Stiles, he gently nuzzled against him. Scent-marking. It was ridiculous how much Stiles enjoyed that, enjoyed the casual comfort and touch between the pack.

"How about you guys do something too? Lazy puppies. Set the table, squeeze some oranges, I want fresh juice to go with those pancakes. Shoo. Be useful."

Peter came next, making a beeline to the coffee maker. Which suited Stiles just fine, honestly, in this household, Peter was the only one who seemed to know how to actually use that. Whatever Erica did with it was absolutely not coffee. Isaac only drank hot chocolate. Jackson preferred going out to buy coffee in coffee shops. Boyd only drank tea. And the Hale siblings? Stiles was pretty sure they would drink the most bitter brew possible without flinching. Heathens, the lot of them.

As Derek and Stiles finished up breakfast, the kitchen got much more lively. So much bumping into each other as everyone tried to put one more thing onto the table – milk was missing, where was the butter, there needed to be jam had anyone seen the strawberry jam, why was there no syrup? That last one was what got Stiles, in the end. Erica bumped into him on her way to get the bacon, causing him to stumble back into Isaac, who elbowed Jackson, who lost his balance and spilled the syrup all over Stiles. All Stiles could do was blink and stare down at himself, dripping maple syrup everywhere, before he started laughing. Okay, yeah, he had missed this. This sense of family.

"I am going to get changed, I guess."

"You are going to drip syrup all over the floor," Peter gave him a look of disdain.

"He's right," Lydia's face matched Peter's. "Just, take your shirt off and put it in the sink for now, rinse it out in there later."

Stiles grunted his confirmation. That was a better idea than leaving a trail of syrup all over the place. Turning his back on the pack so he was facing the sink, he pulled his shirt off and put it in. Gasps and growls of varying degrees sounded behind him and oh. Right.

"Stiles-" Derek's voice never sounded more wrecked and Stiles didn't know what to do with that.

"Ri—ight," Stiles cleared his throat, rubbing his neck.

"Why would you get that as a tattoo," Cora asked startled.

Stiles braced himself against the sink. Knowing their eyes were on his back tattoo, on the large black fox sitting on it, staring at them right now. He frowned as he considered how to explain it.

"As a physical reminder of what I overcame," Stiles offered after a long silence. "This wasn't like a physical attack that I carried a scar from. It just… Sometimes, in the happy and carefree moments, it nearly feels like it never happened and that frightens me. I needed… I needed a physical reminder that it did happen, and that I survived. That I was stronger than him."

Silence again, but this one loaded with emotions. He could feel it through the pack-bonds. Not pity, but compassion and understanding – maybe not understanding in the sense that they could relate, but that they understood why he needed it. Stiles heaved a sigh.

"Never took you for someone to get a tattoo, at all," Isaac offered softly, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah," Stiles' voice was a little shaky while he started scrubbing at his shirt. "The first one I got like three months after… after the possession. It's on my wrist. Just… a sentence. To remind me that I'm awake. That this is real. Because finger counting wasn't working and I wasn't always around posters or books… It helped. Helps, still. That I can look at my wrist and read words, know that I am awake because I can read them."

And silence again. He could feel pain through the pack-bonds. Pain on his behalf. Not pity, but sorrow. Frowning, he scrubbed a little harder, not ready to face them to see the looks on their faces.

"I have two more," Stiles offered, because why not. "I got a silver arrow, with the Argent family motto that Allison came up with. Actually, Chris and I got matching tattoos of that."

The compassion and sadness through the bonds was getting suffocating and yet he appreciated it too because they weren't judging him. They knew that this was part of his healing process and they respected that, even if they couldn't relate to it themselves.

"You said four," Lydia spoke up after a moment and he could hear the frown. "I knew about those three. But only those. When did you get a fourth tattoo, Stiles."

Ah. Stiles grinned to himself as he turned around. "Not long before we left Beacon Hills. I figured, the others are all… tied to the past. It's time to look into the future."

Stiles actually startled a little when Derek growled, eyes flashing red. It put a flush on Stiles' cheeks. When he blinked, Derek was all of a sudden right in front of him. Stiles swallowed hard, because Derek was only a breath away and a large hand curled around Stiles' hip, just on top of the triskelion settled on his hip-bone. His heart jumped at the touch, the warmth.

"Mine," Derek whispered, yet that whisper was so forceful it vibrated in Stiles' heart.

A crooked, pleased grin spread over Stiles' lips as he tilted his head and rested a hand atop Derek's. "So, you finally ready to talk about the fact that I'm your mate, then?"

Startled gasps. Not because this was new information to them. Werewolves could smell mate-bonds on mated pairs, Stiles knew that. There was no way the pack didn't know. Derek was staring at him with wide, near fearful eyes, before backing off. A disappointed sigh escaped Stiles at that.

"C'mon, Sourwolf," Stiles' voice had a pleading edge. "I followed you all the way to England. I'm done waiting for you to figure out how to use your words."

"How…" Derek swallowed hard. "How did you figure it out, I…"

"Was being super obvious in your pining?" Stiles raised both eyebrows. "But also, like… I'm magic. I am a supernatural creature too. I can feel the mate-bond myself. Has… that not occurred to you? That me not being human might mean I might also feel the bond?"

Derek flushed at the pining comment, which looked too cute on the Alpha. But, seriously. Derek had gone from wanting to rip Stiles' throat out every time Stiles opened his mouth to being unbearably patient with Stiles even during stressful situations. They'd saved each other's lives so often. It had hurt, at first, when Derek had left, but Stiles also understood why the Hales wanted to leave Beacon Hills behind. Part of him just wished Derek had asked him to come with them. Yet another part of him was grateful Derek hadn't, because Stiles genuinely didn't know how he could have chosen between his mate and his dad. Now, he didn't have to choose anymore. Taking a step toward Derek, Stiles grabbed the Alpha's hand, pulling him closer.

"I get it," Stiles spoke softly. "We were stumbling from one disaster into the next, trauma after trauma, there was never really… time. But now there is. I'm here, you're here. I want…"

Stiles paused, suddenly feeling breathless with the force of emotions he was experiencing. "I want to be happy. I want to live and move on and I want to do all of that with you, Derek."

Lifting his free hand, he rested it on Derek's cheek, gently. The Alpha nuzzled into it, closing his eyes. Leaning in, feeling bolt, Stiles pressed a fleeting kiss against Derek's lips.

"I love you, Sourwolf," Stiles whispered. "And I'm done stepping back, letting my own life and the things I want take a backseat to what others may need or want from me. I want. I want you."

He spoke with all the love and passion he felt for the Alpha and he pushed as much of it through their bond. Bonds. The pack-bond, vibrating warm and gentle next to their mate-bond, a strong, thick tendril of sparkly red that pulsed with want and need, carnal and primal and infinite.

"I'm yours, Derek," Stiles bared his neck to the Alpha. "I'm your pack. I'm your mate. I'll be your Emissary, if you'll have me. I'll be anything you'll take. Please."

"You're everything, Stiles," Derek sounded near desperate, looking at Stiles with gentle eyes. "You're my everything. I always just… It was never the right time. It always felt like it would be unfair to tell you. Make you choose between me and Scott, between my pack and his, between here and Beacon Hills, between… us, and staying with your dad."

"Yeah, but… now I'm here. And I'm yours. And you're mine."

And it was that last word, spoken with all the possessiveness Stiles felt, that finally tipped Derek over into leaning down and kissing him fiercely and passionately. It would have been the perfect first kiss if Jackson wasn't making gagging noises in the background while Erica cheered and Boyd and Isaac argued about who owed whom money. But then that maybe made it even more perfect.

~*~ The End ~*~

[cxplqnce]

Liam Dunbar - Immortality

Word Count: 2,016

You’re a 600 year-old-vampire that has been a friend to the Hale’s for years and when Derek met Scott, you became friends with him too. Now Scott has to deal with a new beta that you accidently fall madly in love with after a promise to never love again.

Masterlist

“You guys are idiots, do you know that?” You whisper-yelled at Scott and Stiles outside of Scott’s bedroom – where a freshman named Liam was tied up after Scott had bitten him.

“I didn’t know what else to do!” Scott whisper-yelled back, a definite ‘I need help’ look in his eyes.

You sighed, a few possible solutions running through your brain, “He’s definitely going to turn, right?” The two boys hesitantly nodded their heads as you continued to think, “Then we just talk to him. I mean, he’ll understand. We just need to explain it right.”

The boys agreed and pulled Liam out of the bathtub and into a chair which they placed in front of Scott’s bed. They then looked to you as you leant forward to look in his eyes, “Don’t scream when we take the tape off your mouth.” You said, using your compulsion powers.

You moved and Stiles leant forward to peel the tape off his mouth, a pained groan leaving his throat. “Okay, Liam, now you've seen a lot of confusing things tonight. And more confusing things are going to happen because of the confusing things that happened tonight. Do you understand?”

“Not really.” Liam replied with both you and Scott agreeing with his answer.

Stiles nodded his head, “Good. That's good.”

“I don't understand either.” Scott said, looking up slightly and trying to work it out in his head.

Stiles pointed to Scott and then to Liam, “Maybe you should tell him.”

“Tell me what?” Liam demanded as you rubbed your head and sighed.

Scott took a step forward and softened his tone as he spoke, “Liam... What happened to you, what I did to you, which I had to do in order to save you, it's going to change you.”

“Unless it kills you.” Stiles interrupted but quickly followed with, “Shouldn't have said that.”

“What?” Liam asked, his eyes widened and his heart rate speeding up. Liam’s eyes started to water as he let his head drop. You definitely felt bad for the kid, I mean he was even younger than Scott was when he was turned and younger than you were when you were turned into a vampire.

“Uh... Uh-oh. Oh-oh. Is he... Is he crying?” Stiles questioned as Scott kneeled down in front of Liam.

“Liam, it's okay. You're going to be all right… You're not going to die.” He consoled, as Stiles knelt next to him.

“Probably not.”

“Stop it.” Scott scolded.

Stiles nodded, “Okay, possibly not.”

“Would you just help me untie him?” Scott asked, the two boys moving to pull the tape off Liam and the chair before standing back in front of him, “Liam? Are you okay?”

Stiles looked down for a second before looking back at Liam, “We're sorry about that. We're really sorry.” He spoke, slowly and in almost a whisper.

Liam turned around and before any of you could do anything he grabbed the chair and whacked Scott with it, causing him to fall to the ground – taking Stiles with him. You snorted, a chuckle coming from your throat as Stiles pulled himself up just to get punched by Liam. Your hands flew to your mouth, trying to conceal the laugh in your throat as Liam ran out of the room.

You just watched while Scott and Stiles clumsily got up from the floor and stumbled out the room, following Liam. You shook your head and sighed following the loud noises before finding Scott and Stiles at the bottom of the stairs in a heap and the door wide open. “You boys okay?”

“What the hell were you doing?” Stiles shouted.

“Watching and laughing, a lot.”

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

You stood with the rest of your pack in Lydia’s lake house watching the chaos unfold as Kira brought Liam through the door.

“What the hell is this?” Liam demanded, a stern look covering his face.

“Think of it like an intervention.” Stiles began, “You have a problem, Liam.”

“And we're the only ones that can help.” Scott finished.

You sat down, pouring a blood bag into a glass and lifting it up, “This is going to be fun, cheers!”

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

You stood watching as Scott and Stiles held a very riled up Liam underneath the shower in an effort to calm him down after he went for one of the students at Devenford Prep.

“Okay! Okay!” Liam yelled, after his face had gone back to normal.

Scott and Stiles pulled back and turned the shower off as Liam slid down the tiled wall and onto the floor, “That car you smashed... I thought you said that was your teacher's?” Scott asked.

“He was also my coach. He benched me for the entire season.” Liam replied.

“What did you do?” You asked, intrigued.

Liam looked down at the floor, “I got a couple of red cards...”

“Just a couple?” Stiles remarked, earning him a jab in the ribs from your elbow.

Scott ignored your little disagreement and continued the conversation, “You gotta be honest with us-- what else happened?”

“Nothing. I got kicked out of school. They sent me to a psychologist for an evaluation.”

“What did they call it?” Scott asked, kneeling down to Liam’s level.

Liam replied while doing everything he could not to meet Scott’s eyes, “Intermittent explosive disorder.”

“I.E.D.? You're literally an I.E.D.? That's great. That's great… You gave powers to a walking time bomb!” Stiles exclaimed, earning him another jab in ribs from your elbow that seemed to put a slight smile on Liam’s face – however fleeting it was.

“Did they give you anything for it?” Scott asked.

“Risperdal. It's an antipsychotic.”

“Oh, this just gets better...” Stiles mumbled.

“But I don't take it—” Liam interjected.

“Obviously!”

You shook your head, “Shut up, Stiles.”

“I can't play lacrosse on it, it makes me too tired.” Liam said, looking down at the floor again.

“Okay. I think you should bail out of the game. Tell Coach your leg is still hurting.” Scott suggested.

“No! No. I can do this-- especially if you're there.” Liam retorted, standing up from his position on the floor.

Scott sighed, “But Liam... this isn't just about the game. We think whoever killed Demarco may have been on our team.”

“Who's Demarco?” Liam asked.

“The one who brought the beer to the party? The guy who was beheaded, remember?” Stiles replied.

“We think the person who ordered the keg killed Demarco.” Scott continued. Liam looked down, thinking for a second. “Liam...? What, you know something?”

“I don't know who ordered the keg... But I know who paid for it.”

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

After Liam had told Scott that Garrett had ordered the keg, Scott and Stiles left the room – leaving you alone with Liam.

“You okay?” You asked, taking a step closer to him, from your position against a locker. “That was pretty intense.”

Liam nodded, “Yeah, I’m okay… you must’ve seen that before, right? With Scott.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen out of control werewolves millions of times.” You chuckled, sitting down on a bench in the locker room. “I mean, if you hadn’t have done something like that at least once or twice, I’d think there was something wrong with you.”

Liam sat down on the bench next to you, “How do you know so much about werewolves?”

“I mean, I’ve spent my extremely long life surrounded by the supernatural – mainly werewolves. And I’ve been helping the Hale family for decades… You pick things up.”

“Wait… decades?” Liam questioned, his brows furrowed, “I thought you were 16.”

You nodded, “Physically, yeah. But technically I’m six-hundred and… something – maybe like fourteen or fifteen. I don’t know – I’ve lost count.” You explained, the look of confusion still evident on Liam’s face. “Did Scott and Stiles not tell you that I’m a vampire?”

Liam’s eyes widened, “You’re a vampire? Those exist?”

“Yeah… They do.” You replied, chuckling at his reaction. “And before you ask, I have a ring that lets me walk in the daylight, the reflection thing is a myth and so is the garlic and holy water thing. Also, yes, I do drink blood.”

“That’s insane!” Liam exclaimed, “That’s really cool.”

-----------

For the next two weeks you ended up getting closer to Liam, helping him through his anger and then just generally spending time with him. Unfortunately, you had figured out that you had started to like him – so you started avoiding him. You couldn’t fall in love again, not after what had happened the last time.

It was 1749, you were living in London and had met a man, someone that you connected with and eventually fell in love with. You were about to leave town – as you routinely did every few years – when he found you leaving and you admitted to him what you were. He said he didn’t care so you continued to stay with him. Eventually, you had to leave but he decided to come with you – you found a place in the middle of nowhere, where you could live together.

You got engaged, then married and spent the rest of his life with him. When he died, it broke you and you made a promise to never love again, to never put that life on anyone else.

“Y/N!” Liam yelled from the end of the corridor you had turned into. You tried to turn around but he had already caught up to you, “Are you avoiding me or something? Cause I haven’t seen you in days.”

“No, no I’m not avoiding – I’ve just been busy. Vampire stuff.” You lied, however not very well, but before Liam could reply you made an excuse to leave.

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

It was raining when Liam called you, you weren’t sure whether to pick up the phone or not but since it could’ve been some kind of emergency – you did.

“Hello?” You asked into the phone.

“Y/N, can you come over please.” He whispered, his voice was shaking and you could hear that he was nervous.

You thought for a second, debating in your head, “Okay, I’ll be there soon.” You hung up the phone and drove to Liam’s house, parking a few houses down and jumping up to his window. You saw him sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his hands together. You gently tapped on the window, his head whipping around to you before he stood up and came over to open it.

“What do you need at 2 in the morning?” You asked, climbing into his room and closing the window behind you.

Liam debated over what he was going to say before sighing, “I keep seeing the Berserkers, I can’t sleep and I keep going over in my head why you won’t talk to me.” He said, looking at the ground almost the entire time until he mentioned you.

You sighed, sitting down on his bed, “It’s not you, per say. I have been alive for a long time, Liam, and one of the worst things about immortality is love.” You started. Liam sat down next to you, giving you his full attention. “I will outlive everyone that I love, which is why I try not to love very many people. And I promised myself almost 300 years ago, that I would never fall in love with someone again… and then you happened. The reason I’ve been distant is so I can try to stop myself from falling in love with you because I know that one day… I’ll lose you.”

Liam’s eyes widened when you mentioned love and him in the same sentence, “Did it work?” He asked, “Avoiding me to stop falling in love with me?”

You looked up at him, staring right into his blue eyes. “No.” You said, simply, only now realising just how close you were.

“You can’t live without love, Y/N.” Liam said, “It’s one of the most beautiful things in the world.”

You smiled, leaning closer to him, “Then maybe I should give it a shot.”

“You definitely should.” Liam whispered, the small space between your lips closed as he leaned down to kiss you.

A/N: Hope you enjoy! Follow my instagram @cxplqnce :) also I take requests if you have any - for any of the fandoms on my masterlist and some others! :)

[ao3feed-peterstiles]

Nosy Neighbors

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/59199388 by Takara_Phoenix After graduation, Stiles gets his own place. And he really enjoys the view. 'The view' being a really hot married couple with an exhibitionist streak because those two deliberately put on a show for him, after the first time that Stiles accidentally sees them through their open windows. What he doesn't realize is that they're the Alpha Pair of his former college roommate Boyd. Specifically the Alpha Pair he's supposed to go to for help if he ever needs it. He only realizes that when he stands in front of their apartment door after his ex finds him. Words: 15060, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M, Multi Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent, Peter Hale, Vernon Boyd, Erica Reyes, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Derek Hale, Cora Hale, Allison Argent Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes & Stiles Stilinski, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore Additional Tags: Slash, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M, Established Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Married Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Pack Alpha Peter Hale, The Hale Pack Moves to London, Canon Divergence, in the sense that the Hale Pack has always been in London, Lydia and Stiles are the only ones to move to London technically, Everyone is in One Pack (the Hale Pack), Everyone Loves Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, BAMF Stiles Stilinski, past abusive relationship, NOT between the tagged ships. this one is past Theo/Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Peter Hale, Protective Chris Argent, Explicit Sexual Content, Oral, Anal, Top Chris Argent, Top Peter Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, but also I can not stress this enough so another tag as a warning:, Past Abuse, Pack Mom Stiles Stilinski Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/59199388

[crimsonwolfie]

Fortuitous Love — Theo Raeken x Werewolf!Reader

Prompt: You (the reader) are a werewolf in London who live with Jackson and Ethan. You all travel to Beacon Hills to help Scott’s pack fight against the hunters, only things happen unexpectedly...

Warnings: occasionally swearing, trigger of dying/pain, fluff and general happy ending

Word count: 4,799

Masterlist

“You know, you’re asking for your death certificate by doing this.”

“I’m part werewolf, part kanima, darling. They’ve got nothing on me.”

“What about us, my love? We’re only werewolves. Sorry for not having the intolerance to wolfsbane unlike you!”

Carrying your head in your hands, you sigh dramatically at the two loverbirds in the front seats. Jackson and Ethan have been your friends (more like parents) for the past 2 years, after they found you alone and scared on the night you turned. Ever since then, they’ve taken you under their wing like their own and helped you control yourself - they were there for you when no one else was. During those 2 years, they’ve confided in you completely, telling you about Beacon Hills and their friends back there like Lydia, Stiles, Scott and Derek Hale. Being in London, you don’t really make any run in appearances with other supernaturals so your knowledge of them is remotely vague...but ever since your date took you out on a walk through the woods and bit you, you’ve wanted to know everything you can about all of it. If it wasn’t for Jackson and Ethan walking home from a dinner date and heard you scream, then you wouldn’t even be here to tell your story.

A cold, refreshing breeze hits your heated pink cheeks as your hair is swept back from the car window being down. Peering up through the sunroof, you see the moon full and as bright as the heavens above, bringing a small smile to your lips. As the reflection of the moonlight appears upon your glossy eyes, your mind wanders into reminiscing what your life was like before you changed...how you couldn’t hear everything in a 3 mile radius, how you had to ask how people were feeling instead of smelling their emotions...how you didn’t have to be weary of people hunting you down just to kill you for personal gain...

“How’re you feeling, Y/N?” you’re snapped back to reality by Jackson turning around in his seat, his eyes soft and his dimples merry.

“I’m okay, a little nervous i guess” you reply, shifting in your seat slightly whilst tugging the sleeves of your hoodie onto your hands “but hey, what about you? I mean...you haven’t seen these people for 3 years”

“It’s okay, not like they’re strangers. It’s just a shame it’s not under better circumstances” Jackson drops his head slightly in guilt. You know he thinks he should have visited them at least once a year, but with so many supernatural occurrences that have happened in Beacon Hills over the years, he knew it wasn’t the right time. And you knew that too.

“Look, you couldn’t see them before this. It was too dangerous, okay? You’re not in the wrong.” You place your dainty hand over his large one, gripping it tightly in a way to say “it’s going to be okay.” He returns this with a gentle squeeze of your hand and a small smile, before letting go and turning back to the front.

You, Jackson and Ethan were on your way to Beacon Hills to help the pack fight against pretty much the whole town, who have been turned by their own fear to fighting and killing all supernatural creatures. Hunters had been sent to London to hunt down you three, obviously they didn’t succeed but you guys were absolutely pissed. In a way, this is all a blessing in disguise to you, as you’re now on your way to meet people who are meant to be like a second family to you. You’ve heard so much about them all, that you feel like you have already met them...it’s...weird.

“Don’t be scared, darlings” Ethan disturbs the comforting silence with a soft tone “i can sense the fear from both of you, it’s thicker than a bowl of oatme-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” you lean forward poking your head between the two seats in front, glaring at Ethan with beady eyes. Both men wheeze as you breathe out a slight laugh.

“-and anyway...i’m not scared.” You retort, placing your hands on your hips and tilting your head slightly whilst staring into Ethan’s eyes in the mirror. He stares back at you, crinkles on his eyelines and cheek bones high as he cackles softly at your words

“Yeah right princess”

“It’s true! I’m not!”

“It’s okay if you are, sweetie” Jackson pouts sarcastically, earning a middle finger from you. “Hey, don’t be mean little lady!” Jackson wiggles his finger at you whilst tutting your choice of actions.

“Love i will not hesitate to bite your finger off and throw it out this window” you hiss as your eyes glow a bright golden colour. Since you’re London born and raised, you have a british accent coating your words, making it all that more humorous for the two americans in front of you. Your accent has always been something they find both fascinating about you, but also a way to tease you about how you say certain words. You look up to the window reflection to see your eyes are glowing and quickly look down and shake it off.

“You know, i think you’ll get on very well with Theo Raeken” Jackson pipes up, you look up to see him smirking, knowing it’ll wind you up even more.

“Who is this Theo Raeken guy, anyway. I thought you said you both left town before he appeared?”

“Oh we did, only it’s a pretty small world and that guy gets around..” Ethan side eyes Jackson, wearing a confused “just tell her” expression

“...okay maybe because Lydia calls me every week to tell me what i’ve missed.” He sighs as he rolls his eyes. You smirk sweetly, quite enjoying the view in front of you.

“So what’s he like?” You ask, intrigued to know more about this ‘Theo’ guy

“He’s a dick”

“And a liar”

“And a snake”

“Wait how’s that even possible?! I didn’t even think you could have a snake hybr-“

“-no not literally silly, you can’t trust him. He’s a snake that way”

“-oh.”

...

“Is he fit though?”

“Y/N STOP”

—

The car comes to a sudden halt outside an old, abandoned building. The night sky darkens your surroundings, taking away any sort of comfort you had before. Had you reached your destination? Or was something stopping you from reaching it? Remote darkness surrounds you all with not a glimpse of light in sight - no street lamps lit, no lights in the buildings and no cat eyes in the road. It’s almost as if you’re standing in the middle of a ghost town, or even a graveyard.

“This...this can’t be right?” Ethan begins to fiddle with the satnav displayed in front of him “it’s saying ‘route malfunction. No route calculated?”

“It was fine when we got here?” Jackson retorts whilst rubbing his eyes of tiredness. You can feel it too...the fatigue. After an 11 hour plane ride, you’re surprised you’d lasted this long without any sleep. But there’s something else your senses are picking up on...fear? Or even anger?

“Let me try my phone” you hesitate as you open the car door, stepping one foot out ever so cautiously. Picking up your phone from the seat, you hold it up in the air in hopes of getting a signal - nothing. No bars at all...weird.

A cold shiver runs down your spine, causing your entire body to cover in goosebumps. Pulling your hoodie over your body more and bringing your arms up to hug yourself, you get back in the car, rolling the window back up. As if by magic, the air turned from a cool summer breeze to a winter snowstorm with an unsettling feeling running around in the air, and you nor your wolf side liked it.

“Do...do you feel that?” You ask

“I don’t know what it is but...yeah i feel something”

“It’s called love dumbass”

“Jackson this is not a time for your sarc...” Ethan trails off suddenly, sticking his nose up in the air and sniffing. “It’s blood...i smell blood”

“What are you...wait, yeah i smell it too” you retort, opening your car door up once again and stepping out “i’m gonna go and follow it, stay here” you say

“Y/N you’re basically our child, it’s YOU who should be staying put, safe” Ethan replies, his hand on your shoulder

“Eth, it’s okay...i can handle myself” you flash your eyes “if i’m not back in 10 then get the hell out of here. Don’t look back.” and with that, you stalk off, following the scent of fresh blood. Using your wolf vision allows you to see more in your path than you would normally, and with your senses heightened due to a completely unfamiliar setting, you know you’ll be okay.

There’s tall brooding trees everywhere around you, but no sight of life of any kind. Running faster and faster you start to gain a stronger track of the scent, seeing a type of clearing ahead of you. Just as you’re about to leap forward, you hear something flying through the air, only you have no idea where it’s coming from. As you stop and stand behind the tree bark, your vision starts to blur and your muscles begin to weaken. You feel this sharp sting in your side, looking down to reveal an arrow sticking out of it. Panic overwhelms you as the thought of dying here in the darkness, in the cold all alone, scares the hell out of you. A hot, single tear drops on your rosy cheek and into the corner of your mouth. You want to scream, to rip someone’s throat out, to run and hide, but you can’t move. The sound of more arrows flying through the darkness surround you, until all you can hear is the same swooshing sound of this death trap.

“Hunters” you moan under your breath, squinting your face in both pain and anger. The blood is oozing out fast, and you’re not healing. You lift your hoodie up to see the damage whilst wincing...and it’s bad. I mean...really bad. If you’re not healing, then it can only mean one thing...

“Oh for fuck sake, wolfsbane?” You growl as blood seeps into your leggings, painting your once grey hoodie now a tie dye of a piercing crimson shade. The pain begins getting worse as beads of sweat drip from your forehead, mixing with your salty tears. Red laser beams strike through the darkness ahead of you, searching for your body. Scrunching up into a ball on the floor, you try to rock yourself to ease the pain, but it’s useless. You’re looking around for any sort of plan, and start to think of Jackson and Ethan, hoping they’ve gone and are out of harms way. ‘If anything ever happens to them i swear to god i will kill anyone and everyone who inflicted harm their way’ you think to yourself, as you tug the arrow out of your body with a heartbreaking cry. So many emotions are crossing your mind right now to the point you don’t know what is right to feel and what is wrong. Killing someone? It feels fucking right at the moment. Especially the son of a bitch who hunted you.

You know you couldn’t howl to alert the others as they would just race towards you, not away. You have no choice but to face the hunters to get to the clearing, to find someone to help, and with that...you get up. It takes all your strength, but you do it, determined to escape alive.

“Cmon Y/N, you got this” you whisper to yourself in a brittle voice, chin trembling from the pain you’re enduring. Your golden circles glow brightly with determination, as you step forward...but as soon as you do, you look down to see a red laser beam pointed directly at your stomach. Luckily your adrenaline instincts kick in as you grab the flying arrow mid-flight before it hits your body. Breaking it into two pieces, you look up, anger and rage boiling inside you. Your fangs rip through your gums as a ground-rumbling growl leaves your throat, cutting through the space around you like a thousand knives. Running towards the clearing, a dozen more arrows fly around your body...some missing...but also some hitting. Taking a few arrows to your chest, back, legs... your vision gets blurrier, fading by the second until you can’t take it anymore, the wolfsbane kicking in a lot quicker than before. Collapsing on the ground of dried leaves and fertile soil, you reach your hand out to the clearing, trying to grasp at it one final time. Gripping a handful of soil in your blood soaked palms, your eyes brim with tears. ‘This is it’ you think, your fear of a painful, cold and lonely death becomes too realistic. The sound of arrows flying from all directions starts fading away as your body slowly starts giving up on you. As you’re about to give up completely, you see a small blurry blob in the distance getting bigger and bigger the closer it comes. The last thing you see is a hand reach towards your body, then pitch black.

You awake with a gasping breath, back shot up straight and eyes wide. The last thing you remembered was being on the brink of death in the woods, yet now you’re in somewhere that looks like a clinic...an animal clinic maybe?

Looking down at your hands, you see dirt and blood still dug in-between your nails...but there’s white bandages wrapped around your arms. Your bare back shrieks in pain as your skin burns underneath, screaming to be ripped apart. The steel table is cold to your touch as you sweep your legs off onto the side, examining your body for injuries - you’re patched up with bandages everywhere instead. As you’re about to get off the table completely, you hear footsteps approaching the room. Quickly, you decide to grab the needle to your right side for defence, only freezing once seeing the figure walk into the room.

It’s a boy, roughly the same age as you, only he seems a lot more muscular, taller and maturer than you. His hair is a dirty blonde, with longer bits at the front that fall in front of his face Leonardo Dicaprio style. His complexion is dashing, with eyes as blue as the sea and chiseled jawline, his nose pretty much perfect and his lips...oh they look succulent. Upon seeing you, he smirks with perfect lips, as his brows raise.

“And what do you think you’re going to do with that?” He asks, his voice deep but attractive. He places the clipboard in his arms down on the counter next to him, bringing a hand to his hip.

“I...you could have been the hunter” you reply, captivated by his features still

“So i try to kill you, patch you up here and then try to kill you again?” His lips part as a chuckle leaves his throat

“You never know.” You snap, pouting your lips as your brows furrow in defeat.

“So...you must be Y/N?’” The boy asks, tilting his head slightly whilst scanning you up and down. You step back suddenly, surprised he knows who you are, as if he’s been expecting you.

“Wait how’d you know that?” You ask, slowly placing the needle in your hand on the table. He steps forward, closing the space between you two slightly

“Well for one, the accent” he points towards your mouth with a single finger, “and second, Lydia never stops talking about the ‘girl who Jackson saved’. It’s pretty obvious.”

“Well you’re acting like i’m not what you expected..”

“Because you’re not.” He smirks whilst getting closer, closing the gap between you two more. You can’t help but stare into his eyes, then look down at his luscious lips and think of what they’d feel like pushing against yours, moving in synchronisation-

“Hey, stop thinking about me” you snap out of your trance, looking up to see him winking at you with that famous grin of his that everyone talks about, granted he is who you’re thinking he is...

“I-i’m not thinking about you” you push him away

“I can smell the attraction on you” he scoffs.

“I take it you’re Theo Raeken, then.” Sighing, you look up at him, crossing your arms across your chest.

“The one and only” he says as he comes closer to you, bringing his face inches away from your own.

You understand what everyone means when they say Theo Raeken is no good - The guy reeks of selfishness and cockiness. He went against Scott and his pack, even killed him at one point and spent a year in hell...if you could see red flags then he’d be drowning in them. But that’s your problem - you go for the bad guys...you always have. Jackson and Ethan knew this already, which is why they knew you’d get along with him when no one else does.

“So what brings you to Beacon Hills, gorgeous?” Theo takes a few small steps forward, which is making you take small steps back until your back hits the wall of the clinic, your frame pressed against the hard surface. Theo raises his hand and presses his palm against the wall, leaving you nowhere to escape...that is...if you wanted to (but hey, being sandwiched between a wall and a really hot - actually insanely hot guy, was not that bad).

“It’s the hunters, we came back to help.” Your eyes glimpse across his face once again, as you bite your bottom lip. You lean on the wall with your feet planted into the floor, keeping you completely still.

“You’re willing to risk your life for complete strangers?” Theo’s face falls in concern, his deep blue eyes squinting slightly in disbelief. ‘What kind of girl would do that?’ He questioned himself, starting to get more intrigued by you each second.

“They’re not strangers, kinda?” You reply, looking away as you try to explain “they’re Jackson and Ethan’s friends, so i trust them.” Scratching your neck, you look back to him. Theo stares at you as if he doesn’t believe what you’re saying. “You don’t need to stare at me like that”

“Like what?” Theo questions

“Like you can’t trust me. Because you can...and anyway who’s to say you’re the one to be trusted? You don’t exactly have the best representation” you retort, earning a scoff from the boy in front of you

“I saved your life; you should be grateful?” He hissed

“Gee, thanks for not killing me like you did with Scott Mccall, you’re my hero.” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes and shaking your head.

“I do not like your attitude, pretty” theo scoulds, his eyes glowing.

You flash your eyes back at him, growling “i don’t like your loyalties.”

“Yeah well maybe if you went through what i’ve gone through you’d understand”

“You don’t need to pity yourself, Raeken. Some people are just born monsters. Accept it.”

“You don’t even know me!” He’s practically screaming now, with his teeth gritted and fangs shining in the moonlight from the windows above

“I know enough to know you’re a no good, rotten waste of space!” You hiss back, as you go to swipe at him...but he blocks you, gripping your wrist in his hand.

You both stand there facing each other with your fangs dripping and eyes golden, faces inches apart and heavily breathing. You can practically feel his chest on yours, his breath tingling on your cheeks. Staring into each other’s eyes, neither of you move. His hand is still wrapped tightly around your wrist...only after around 10 seconds of staring into each other’s golden orbs, he loosens his grip. He doesn’t let go, just hovers his hand gently over yours. You yank your wrist from his touch and bend under his other arm, which is still palmed to the wall. Walking around the the other side of the table, you focus on controlling yourself...which Theo notices from the corner of his eye.

“You still have trouble controlling yourself, don’t you?..” he begins, only you shut him up by running towards him, shoving your hand over his mouth. Theo’s eyes widen, fearful for your state...but there’s something else in his eyes - sympathy? Suddenly a heart-wrenching pain tears through your side, causing you to kneel over screaming with pain. Still with your hand over Theo’s mouth, he gently places his own over yours as long, black lines start trailing through his skin.

“Wha-what are you-“ you yelp loudly “-you doing?” gritting your teeth and clawing your claws into your palms, he places his other hand over the small of your back. Theo gently moves your hand with his, off of his mouth, so he can talk.

“I’m taking your pain away” he softly speaks, his eyes soft and his touch delicate over your fragile skin. You look up to him with a layer of tears glazed in your eyes, fear hidden deep within your orbs. Theo never looks away when taking your pain. As you start to feel it going away, your eyes soften slightly, guilt clouding your conscience after remembering what you said to Theo. ‘Clearly he’s not what they paint him to be’ you think to yourself.

“You have to care, to take pain away...” your voice is shaky, wobbly. As you bring your legs together, Theo gives you a small smile, as he still holds your hands after taking your pain.

“Of course i care...i can tell you do to” he simply replies, looking down at the ground. His soft, silky hair flops with his gaze, covering part of his forehead. All you want to do is run your fingers through his perfect head of hair, feel it through your fingertips and put your hands on his cheeks...

“But you don’t know me?” You whisper, as you reach forward and place your fingers on the side of his head. He leans into your touch, replying “i just feel like i know you, already”

He brings his hand to yours on his cheek, lacing your fingers in his

“I’m really sorry for...for everything i said earlier” you hiccup quietly “it’s just i thought you were this big bad guy that everyone says you are...” your words trail off as you glance away to the side, thinking of why Theo was being so nice to you “...Hell changed you...didn’t it?” You mention, your voice barely above a whisper. Theo grunts at your words, flinching at the thought of what he went through down there.

“It would change anyone” his eyes welled with tears as he chewed on his lower lip. A sob leaves your lips as you realise what torture he must have gone through, seeing the genuine look of hurt and pain in his expressions. It makes you want to just hug him and never let go...

“...no one’s seen this side to you, have they?” you lift his head up by placing your fingers on his chin. His head is heavy, tears now streaming down his face as memories are recapped in his wracked brain. You bring both hands to wipe away his tears, sobs quietly leaving his mouth.

“No...” he begins, choking up. You pull him into your body, hugging him tightly, rocking sideways in a way of comforting him. He returns the hug, wrapping his arms around you tighter and burying his head in the crook of your neck. You both stay like this for a while, as your hand rubs his back softly and the other hand runs through his hair.

Everyone had no problem telling the bad side of Theo Raeken’s story, but they seemed to have missed out the path of redemption. The path Theo wanted to take, and with your help, he would stick to. For this, you felt anger unlike anything before, for he was a boy who made mistakes. Hell, you’ve made mistakes before...but everyone deserves the right to prove their redemption - to make things right...and Theo Raeken...was never given that opportunity.

Slowly sitting up, he wipes the rest of his face of tears, resting his back against the wall of the clinic. He never expected to meet you, and like you. He’d heard things about you, much like how you heard things about him, but he never saw sympathy as one of your qualities...especially sympathy towards him. You release him from your touch, about to get up, until he grabs your hand back in his.

“Please, don’t leave me Y/N” he begs, his state so fragile and broken. As his soft fingers lace around your own, you obey his wishes and sit back next to him, intertwining your fingers together. He turns towards you, a sweet smile on his face, his red bloodshot eyes tired. You lean your head on his broad shoulder, and just sit with him. He leans his head on your head, his breathing calming. It’s almost like you two are each other’s anchors...but it’s impossible - you don’t know each other...not really?

“Do you believe in people being anchors?” You whisper. Theo adjusts himself closer to your body, instantly creating more heat between you two

“I guess...Liam’s is Hayden. When she left, he really struggled. He still does” he hums. It gets you thinking...you never really had an anchor. You only had Jackson and Ethan telling you this motto “the sun, the moon, the truth” to help control yourself, but most of the time it never worked...

“Wait” you gasp, starting to get fidgety and panic setting in your heart “where are Jackson and Ethan? They were in the car and i left them. I left them, Theo” you turn to him with tears settling in your eyes, your face growing paler through panic. Theo quickly grabs your shoulders to steady yourself, pushing your hair behind your ears, out of your face

“Hey, hey Y/N it’s okay - they’re safe. I got to them, too. They’re with Scott and the others.” He reassures you, rubbing your arms. “It’s okay, breathe. Just breathe, you’re okay”.

“I can’t lose them, they’re all i have” you whimper, Theo strokes your cheek with thumb, pulling you into his chest.

“You have me” he whispers, making you look up at him in adoration. You two had met a couple of hours ago and it already feels like you’ve fallen for him...only he felt the same way. It’s like you two were each other’s soulmate, and that everything feels safe and okay when you’re with each other.

“I feel like...and please don’t think i’m crazy-“ you blurt out, hand on Theo’s chest “-but i feel like you’re my anchor...”

Theo smiles at your words and leans forward, crashing his lips into yours with pure desire and passion. You return the kiss by moving your lips sweetly along with his, hands roaming everywhere on each other’s bodies. Sparks run through your body and burst into fireworks as the kiss deepens. Theo places his hand on the back of your head, pushing you deeper into his lips. Your fingers trace through his hair, tugging at times. Your urge to rip each other’s clothes off increases, as Theo gets slightly aggressive in the kiss, his hands leaving imprints in your skin and biting your lip. Your breath is rigid, wanting more and more. Suddenly, the lights flicker and the sound of a door creaking open breaks the connection between you and Theo, as Jackson and Ethan walk through the door. You and Theo freeze in your position of tops half off, Theo on top of you, his hair an absolute mess and your hair tangled around your neck in sweat

“I knew it!” Jackson cackles, clapping his hands together as Ethan stares at him in annoyance. He reaches into his pocket and places a 10 dollar bill in Jackson’s hand, who smirks and kisses his teeth

“-woah woah you guys BET on this happening?” You gasp, pushing Theo off you enough so you could sit up

“No, we bet that you’d like him...we didn’t bet that you guys would actually click like that” Ethan replies, shrugging.

“Okay i love you guys but...get out.” You scowl, staring at the two men in front of the door

“Y/N we didn’t me-“ Jackson starts

“GET OUT” you flash your eyes, causing the two men to dash out of the room sniggering like two school girls. You flop back on the floor, smirking towards Theo, who climbs back on top of you, about to press his lips to yours once again

“What actually happened he-“ Ethan’s head pops behind the door frame

“GET OUT”

Hope you guys like this! Let me know if you want a part 2 or any other Teen Wolf requests! Xo

[swearwolf-writes]

Teen Wolf 2020

it’s 2020 and corona is a bitch :) the wolves might not be able to get sick but they still wear their masks bcs they could still be carriers so *clears throat* WEAR YOUR MASKS Y’ALL!! this is very much a no one dies/everybody lives au :)

[CROSSPOSTED ON: AO3]

Scott McCall - age 26

this cute nerd. he studied veterinary medicine which takes about 4 years so he graduated in 2017 and works as Deaton’s partner at the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic. he’s dating Isaac (bcs he came back from France with Argent, remember) and Kira (she came back from the Skinwalkers in 2019 and has a proper grasp on her powers). sorry scalia shippers but it’s not really my thing-

Stiles Stilinski - age 26

NERD. anywho- FBI dork became an agent in 2019 whoo and lives in DC with Lydia, Derek and Braeden. he’s dating Lydia and Derek and things are pretty chill - he yells at arseholes who refuse to wear their masks bcs ‘it’s uncomfortable :(’ like bite me karen no one cares

Derek Hale - age 32

grumpy sourwolf actually knows how to smile!! who knew- he lives in DC with Stiles, Lydia and Braeden most of the time but he and Braeden travel often to fight butthead hunters who need to mind their own business. he’s dating Stiles and he and Braeden are engaged - it’s cute and they’re being dorks about it. he likes to complain that they’d be married by now if it wasn’t for freakin covid

Lydia Martin - age 26

your local genius banshee~ 🥰 still awesome, still a harbinger of death - so yk, the usual. bcs she had extra credits she started as a junior studying maths and graduates in 2016!! 🎉🎉 she moved to DC after she got some money together while working as a tutor - the quartet splits rent (but usually it’s just Stiles and Lydia splitting it bcs the other two don’t technically have jobs and yk Derek is an unsub and Stiles is in the FBI which Lydia finds hilarious). she teaches adults in the local community college and helps supernatural folk on the dl - she runs a grief counselling service at the same place for people who’ve lost someone. she’s also trying to get a degree to become a high school maths teacher and it’s a lot but she’s got it handled.

Allison Argent - 24

accidentally brought back from the dead by the Dread Doctors. everyone could not stop crying bcs she’s back baby!! she died in 2011 age 17 and came back in 2012 so she wasn’t dead long thankfully - wanted to kill Theo bcs he messed with her pack even he did bring her back. she’s a chimera now lads- she needed a kidney transplant when she was young which was why she was kept away from the family business. she was a werewolf-werejaguar chimera like Hayden but stayed a chimera. Chris and Isaac stayed home and bcs she and Isaac never actually broke up, they kept dating - she found it funny that Isaac and Scott were dating at this point,, meanwhile they were panicking wildly :) she went back to school and said she wasn’t dead, just in the hospital for a really long time. she joined Liam’s year and again, wanted to very badly throw hands when she found out about Monroe- she’s the coolest, like she has claws and bow and arrows

Malia Tate - 26

our girl went to France as promised and hooked up with plenty of hot French people *le eyebrow wiggle* she found her beau there in France and it was not a love at first sight sort of thing - she wanted to punch them in the face,, in their very pretty face- she was basically doing her own thing when she smells them, another bloody werewolf and like don’t get me wrong, she’s fond of werewolves, but bloody hell do they cause trouble. and they smell her too and it’s like ‘eh-?’ bcs werecoyotes aren’t so common as werewolves. and they’re just there in a club in Bordeaux and they’re sniffed each other out and they kinda just pause like huh- bcs they were were not expecting to see someone that pretty- but that’s not the point of course- they pretend to leave together and as soon as they’re out of sight from humans, they start fighting in an alley, as you do. it ends up with the wolf tasting the wall bcs who the hell are you- once they figure out they’re both just there to party, things chill and they see more of each other, naturally, it’s all just a big coincidence and doesn’t mean anything. and then they’re dancing and it doesn’t mean anything. and then they’re sleeping together and it doesn’t mean anything. except it does. and they don’t know when it became normal to cuddle or wake up together or have breakfast together but it just was. and when the cute werewolf (who I still don’t have a name for-) plans on moving to the next place, she comes with. the pack are happy for her and they usually road trip from place to place so when the pack comes to visit in Prague? it’s fun to say the least

Kira Yukimura - age 25

she came back from the Skinwalkers in 2019 and she and Allison became good friends. she kept going with school from home and is dating Scott. her powers are strong and when she sneezes bcs yk pollen or wtv, there’s sparks and it’s hilarious and Scott finds it adorable. she doesn’t really know what she wants to do yet and that’s cool of her

Erica Reyes - age 25

they thought she was dead- think again bitch, she slowed her heart rate down so they couldn’t hear and everyone thought she was dead - when the alpha pack got rid of her body and Allison found it, she told her to tell the others to pretend she was dead bcs of the Alpha pack - they beat the Alpha pack but she and Boyd hid with Satomi’s pack while that went down and helped generally after. she kept going with school and bcs she dipped for a while, ended in Liam’s year and eventually became a nurse in 2017. she works with Melissa McCall and joins for family dinner a lot.

Isaac Lahey - age 25

went to France with Chris Argent but kept going with his studies at Chris’ insistence. was dating dating Scott before he had to leave with Chris but they didn’t actually break up,, it was more ‘i’ll miss you :(’. came back to Beacon Hills when Chris came to help with the deadpool business and stayed bcs of Allison and Scott 💞 his studies were mostly uninterrupted and he studied law, becoming a lawyer in 2020!! so at least one good thing came of this infernal year- he wants to specialise in family law.

Vernon Boyd III - age 26

yea no, Derek didn’t mercy kill him bcs he was fine :) de nile ain’t just a river lads he went into hiding with Satomi’s pack and came back when the Alpha pack was dealt with. went back to school and ended up in Liam’s year. he joined the air force when he was 18 and finished his rotc training stuff in 2018 and it’s pretty alright - he’s a pilot but was discharged in 2019 bcs someone started with him and bcs they were a superior, he couldn’t say shit. so now he likes to wear ‘fuck the army’ and ‘fuck the air force’ shirt. he has mad respect for the people out there but the people in charge? fuck em

Aiden Steiner - age 27

he lives bitches 😎 Ethan had a silver chain on so he plugged the wound with it - it counteracted the oni poison and the chain started melting into the would (he had mild silver poisoning but he was fine). school was normal and now he’s an engineer, living in Beacon Hills. he and Ethan left for London for a while bcs that town was crazy af. while Ethan was very happy there, he missed home so went back. he got an online ordination and learnt Japanese bcs why not

Ethan Steiner-Whittemore - age 27

got married!! whoo 🎉🎉 Aiden officiated (this is 2018 btw) and it was cute. the whole pack was there and the wedding was in London bcs as quaint as Beacon Hills is 

‘i’m only planning on getting married once so this is gonna be awesome’ - Jackson Whittemore, 2017

he’s dramatic but yk Ethan was a blushing mess bcs ~life partners~ he’s soft y’all. he’s a primary school teacher in London and they’re part of the South London pack.

Jackson Steiner-Whittemore - age 25

also got married!! whoo 🎉🎉 ngl he’s lowkey a trophey husband/sugar hubby bcs he’s rich af - he does business with his dad but it’s not a big workload. he and Aiden want to adopt and yk being rich will hopefully help

Theo Raeken - age 25

ah yes, the absolute nightmare bi enby returns. (i hc him with he/they pronouns ✌🏽 as you do) so he successfully gained Scott’s trust and is part of the pack - yay! he and Allison have a sort of ‘you’re a bitch’ ‘no u’ *saves each others lives* relationship at this point - it took a while for Allison to warm up to him but he did save Liam’s butt several times so,, anywho, he’s still a werewolf-werecoyote chimera and he’s cool with it. he went to an online school and got his high school diploma - Liam then snuck him into the school and he signed the bookshelf bcs yea he didn’t graduate there but he did go there and now he’s graduated so yay. speaking of, he and Liam are dating, yea ik we been knew. they started dating in 2014 and Theo now works waiting tables at a local restaurants bcs he lives with Liam and his parents (you best bet that when they found out he was living in his car, they made him move in so he pays rent, not at their request but his). that was till 2017 and they moved out into an apartment together. Theo chips in on rent but it usually ends up being split 60:40 (Liam: Theo) so he cooks and cleans a lot,,, mainly bcs Liam can’t cook and does laundry like a maniac-

Liam Dunbar - age 24

this werepup is just as chaotic as always - he cannot be trusted with laundry bcs he doesn’t split colours from whites :) honestly it makes me wanna cry a lil bcs he can’t even fry eggs either- he has Theo to cook for him tho so that’s all good. he’s a history tutor for the high school students bcs he likes history and he knows the pain of high school- *shudder* he got an online Spanish and TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) degree and is now teaching at Beacon Hills High but yk his first year teaching is all online bcs 2020-

Mason Hewitt - age 23

he’s Emissary to the pack when they don’t have Deaton *wipes tear* he’s all grown up- he went to UCLA and majored in biophysics and minored in LGBTQ studies (graduated 2017). he lived on campus (kept the bat next to his bed lmao) and videochatted with Liam almost everyday - he would visit almost every weekend even tho it’s a 6 and half drive but hey. he got an apartment near the uni where he and Corey lived after he graduated. they’ve been engaged since 2018 (it was actually the day after the Steiner-Whittemore wedding). he’s helping work on a new drug delivery system and they moved closer to Beacon Hills (Sacramento)

Corey Bryant - age 24

he also went UCLA, studying comparative literature and LGBTQ studies, and lived on campus (for 3 years before moving in with Mason in 2017) before graduating in 2018. they’re engaged and moved to Sacramento. he’s writing a novel that will thankfully have nothing to do with their confusing ass lives

Cora Hale - age 28

lesbian queen *bows* still part of her pack in Ecuador, South America - she’s got a lady lover who I call Rosa (affectionately nicknamed Rosalita). they met when she first got there age 12 (Rosa being 13 at the time). Rosa taught her Spanish  and made her feel like part of the pack - after all the Alpha pack stuff, when she went back with Derek and Peter, she didn’t realise how much she’d missed them- how much she’d missed her. Derek asks if that’s her girlfriend and she’s like ‘wha- o.o’ and Rosa just goes ‘yup - nice to finally meet you guys’. she still visits DC to see Derek and Beacon Hills to see Erica and Isaac. even tho she lives in a different continent, Peter still looks out for her, sending anonymous donations in Talia’s name to the areas surrounding her pack’s territory

Brett Talbot - 24

*singsongs* ~he did not die~ the car swerved out of the way and the pack took him to Deaton who burnt the poison out of him (it was a long and painful process but he’s fine y’all). he’s the new lacrosse coach at Devenford Prep and he and Liam have a (mostly) friendly rivalry :) he’s a single pringle not bcs of lack of dates but just bcs he hasn’t found the one yet

Lorilee Rohr - age 22

also did not die :) she finished high school (2015) and went on to studying at UC Berkeley (art practice and theatre and performance studies, major and minor), graduating in 2018. she and Brett moved once he reached age 18. she makes and sells art from home

Nolan Holloway - age 25

after proving himself, same as Theo, he was eventually accepted into the pack. he and Gabe were dating and that’s that so he did mourn him for a long while. he works with hunters on the dl, trying to stop them hunting the supernaturals - he’s flipped 23 away from the dark side by 2020. he and Liam are friends which took a while but Nolan has his back (like there was that one time someone from the lacrosse team said they weren’t gonna ‘follow some mongrel’ so he reminded them that Liam was co-captain and if they didn’t wanna follow him, they could kindly fuck off :)) he’s a simp and has a raging crush on Brett like me too bruh

~the end~ for now

[princeescaluswords]

Read a ~wonderful~ fic with all the fanon born tropes we've come to love: Left Hand, ~shades of gray~, "Scott sees world in black and white", Marin is "not to be trusted" and "barely a druid" whatever that means lol, Stiles is "more of a kitsune than Kira" says Noshiko who literally has her power ripped out of her by Stiles, and more I'm forgetting probably. But it's funny, especially the "Left Hand" concept that was never a thing in the show but was fabricated to excuse Peter's selfishness and viciousness.

Have you read George Orwell?  He was extraordinarily critical of extreme right political thought -- fascism -- and extreme left political thought -- totalitarianism. The moment I read this ask, I thought about his quote, written from the perspective of the villain in his book 1984:

“Power is not a means; it is an end. One does not establish a dictatorship in order to safeguard a revolution; one makes the revolution in order to establish the dictatorship. The object of persecution is persecution. The object of torture is torture. The object of power is power.” 

What has this to do with Teen Wolf?  Apparently, plenty.     

The quote interacts with its story, and one of the reasons that Scott McCall is among my favorite fictional characters, by showing how Scott McCall subverts this concept completely.   Is Scott capable of doing terrible things?  Absolutely.  But when forced to by circumstance, he does them for a definite and beneficial end.  He doesn’t prepare to do bad things in order to maintain his own status.  Every time people complained that “Scott is so weak for an alpha!” I smiled because that’s the point. In a crisis, his first thought isn’t -- how do I use my status, physical strength, and mystical skills to perpetuate my and my pack’s advantages and my own authority?  His first thought is -- who is hurting?

Which is why his first profound statement in Season 6 was “They don’t need us.”

Fandom experiences a thrill of projecting onto characters.  Nothing wrong with that at all!  That’s the reason those characters were made in the first place.   But I have to question parts of a fandom who derive a thrill from celebrating those who manipulate, torture, enslave, and kill others and do so by creating elaborate justifications for that thrill.  

Peter wasn’t the Left Hand.  It was never even hinted at in the story.  He knew things and had useful competencies, but so did Deaton.  Only Deaton never looked straight at the camera and said, “I want what I’ve always wanted --power.” and his actions backed up his benevolence.  Peter wasn’t the Left Hand because Talia didn’t need a Left Hand, Derek didn’t need a Left Hand (he needed a pack member he could trust), and Scott didn’t need a Left Hand.  The concept of the Left Hand is fandom’s way of not only justifying Peter’s past actions, but a way to celebrate someone who would do terrible things like manipulate his newly-found daughter to get that power and respond to her anger with a snide quip in order to gain power and keep it.

“Shades of gray” is nothing more than utilitarianism run amuck.  It’s a con artist’s scam, a way to get others to agree that “what you need is more important than what anyone else needs, so use any means available to get what you want.”  It’s a blank check to excuse any act as long as you can paint someone as the enemy.  It’s vulgar selfishness in sunglasses and a raincoat.  

Strangely enough -- No, not strangely enough, absolutely and completely in tune with the greater culture -- when freed of personal responsibility for their desires by the self-serving mantra of ‘fiction =/= reality,’ this always takes the form of white men being superior, hurting, or even killing minorities, women, and -- most especially -- women of color.  

Compare fandom’s reaction to Peter Hale and to Marin Morrell.  Compare fandom’s reaction to Derek Hale and to Marin Morrell.  Compare fandom’s reaction to Stiles Stilinski and Marin Morrell.  The show made it clear that Marin was playing a dangerous game to keep the worst impulses of the Alpha Pack in check (they talk about this in scene after scene, that she’s risking her life to stop them from the inside), but somehow this makes her untrustworthy and unlikable.  Peter Hale can use Lydia Martin as a get-out-of-death free card, Derek Hale can recruit children to fight a war, Stiles can lie and break the law with impunity, but Marin acting in ‘shades of grey’ to keep the Alpha Pack’s body count to a minimum is completely disqualifying her for protection or regard.

Now, on one hand, Peter can be celebrated for avenging his family from their brutal murder by killing his niece, almost killing his nephew, torturing teenagers, and killing his allies and innocent bystanders because of the pain and torment of experiencing his family burning alive.  On the other hand, Noshiko Yukimura watched her neighbors die due to the venality of the people who imprisoned them unfairly, experienced being gunned down while watching soldiers gun down unarmed civilians, know her love died screaming in indescribable agony, and she, barely able to move, uses the only power she has left to get revenge, but she deserves her power to be ripped away from her.

You see at the base it’s about us vs. them.  Parts of fandom saw hot white guys who can cry about their problems while other people are dying and they said -- hey, that’s me!  So they select these people as theirs, or us, and all the other as them -- which tend to be minorities, women, and, most especially women of color -- and celebrate them taking whatever power or actions necessary to achieve victory ... forever.

Even though Peter’s self-serving attempt to paint Scott as a black-and-white thinker was supposed to be seen through as the manipulation it was by the audience, it gave people who wanted the hot, evil white guys to win a means to disparage their primary opponent.  Because the fundamental aspect of Scott’s heroism is that he sees everyone -- even people he doesn’t like, such as Peter -- as deserving of the same chances.   He doesn’t value himself or his pack above others in a violent free-for-all that is one step above the law of the jungle.  You can see their disdain when they interpret Scott’s beliefs as neglecting Stiles or being stubborn towards Derek or never understanding Peter.  

They know that Scott doesn’t hold his purity above the good of others, because they constantly condemn him for it.  In Code Breaker, in Master Plan, in The Overlooked, in Echo House, in Orphaned, in Ouroboros, in Apotheosis, in The Werewolves of London, we see him do things he doesn’t like, he doesn’t want to do, things that are utilitarian, to save others.   Their real complaint isn’t that he won’t do what’s necessary, it’s that he does what’s necessary for everyone and not exclusively for their hot white male favorites.

A friend of mine argued that an audience member only has a certain number of characters they can feel empathy for at any one time.  They are most likely correct.  That’s why we have morality.   A lot of us believe that everyone has the right to life and freedom even if we, personally, don’t care about them.  Teen Wolf stated that the most legitimate form of power is that which is used to the benefit of all others, not just the holder of the power and his close friends.  That the object of power is making the world a better place.   Parts of fandom just don’t get that.

[florenceandthemachine]

and finally, because i’m a basic bitch and i love a classic cliche trope, stackson and fake dating (◕‿◕✿)

I’m making this a Part One. Why? Because I’m a messy bitch. 

If I ever wrote anything on AO3, this would be the first chapter, but I don’t because that’s too much responsibility. 

SO.

Fake Boyfriends. Lets go. 

“My parents are taking me to England for Christmas.”

Jackson was never great with hellos. 

“What?”

Stiles, on the other hand, wasn’t always that great with comprehension. 

To his credit, though, he had been eyes-deep in several books about the history of Quetzalcoatl, a feathered, snake-like, flying deity of Mesoamerican culture that he was writing a history report on. He was also about 80% sure that was the thing that Scott had been in a fight with last week, so… well. It was just a wonderful way to double dip, get twice the work done and get graded for doing the research that he would have to do to save their own skin in the first place. 

So, his eyes were a little crossed and his head was probably spinning a little bit as he looked up to see Jackson, standing there, his hair messy (that was red flag number one) and his eyes bright blue (that was red flag number two) and—

“Stiles, pay attention. My parents are taking me to England for Christmas.”

—and Jackson was using his first name, which was red flag number three.

Shaking his head clear of thoughts of feathered snakes, Stiles rubbed his eyes with one hand, sweeping aside some of the books and papers he had laid about the table with the other, effectively making room for Jackson to sit. 

And sit Jackson did, looking like an angry, deflated puppy. Stiles had to quash that mental train of thought—yet again—about how cute Jackson could look while he was angry. He knew better than to speak when those thoughts were swimming around in his head, but that was okay, because he knew that there was no amount of prodding that would be successful when Jackson was in A Mood. 

But seriously—what the fuck was wrong with England? It seemed like a very Whittemore trip, and even then, it—

“I don’t think we’re coming back.”

Feeling his heart skip a beat as panic quickly focuses him on the task at hand, Stiles gapes for a half second before forcing his mouth shut, Quetzalcoatl long since forgotten as he took on this new… threat. At least, it felt like a threat. Jackson was pack, after all. “Jackson, that’s… insane. They can’t do that.”

Jackson’s eyes flick over to him, his eyes hard and unforgiving, and Stiles pales. 

“Can they?”

Jackson spends the next half hour going over everything (and honestly, if the situation weren’t so apparently dire, Stiles would have been on cloud nine, knowing that they apparently had long since moved past enemies)—how his fathers law firm had opened up a branch in London almost three years ago, how they had been dogging Jackson’s father to basically run the joint. Apparently, it escalated over the past year (“after Lydia and I broke up, which apparently means that I’m fine to go and have no other fucking attachments”) and Jackson had stumbled upon an entire itinerary, moving quotes, property listings, the whole nine yards. 

Stiles let his angle loop around Jacksons as the other started to wind down, pulling from some old Scott knowledge, giving Jackson some physical contact to ground himself with—even unconsciously.

“…and now I think that we’re going to go up there for our little fucking vacation, and suddenly I’m going to wake up and there’s going to be a moving truck outside with all my shit.” Jackson is out of breath when he finishes, his head in his hands in frustration, voice muffled through what Stiles can only imagine is a mouth full of fangs and his own deep breathing exercises. 

The silence between the two lingers in the air for the moment as Jackson works to get his breathing under control, and Stiles squares his jaw as he nods his head. 

“When do you leave?”

“Stilinski, you can’t just fix this, you—“

“I’m not fucking with you, Jackson. When do you leave.”

Jackson turns his head, his eyes shockingly human.

“…after finals. Saturday evening.”

“Good. I have some time then.”

And with that, Stiles stood and walked out of the room, leaving Jackson overall confused—and, weirdly, missing the weight against his ankle that he didn’t even notice was there. He only had a moment to miss it, though, before his attention was taken over by the stacks of shit left behind on the table.

“….wait! Stilinski! What about all of your shit?!”

~

Jackson may not have had the strongest belief in Stiles fixing this, but once they had completed their final exams, that small flicker of hope had basically been doused in water. He was positively miserable by Saturday morning, more or less moping around his house, and he would have been almost angry to hear Stiles’ jeep pull up if he wasn’t so fucking resigned to it all.

Hauling himself down the stairs, he throws the door open before Stiles even has a chance to knock, and he’s… carrying a suitcase. 

“…Stilinski, what the fuck.”

Because Stiles is beaming at him like the sun, like he had just solved all of Jackson’s problems, and that is a concerting look. He flips his suitcase around with a grand flourish, backpack slung over his shoulder, the Jeep parked off to the side of the driveway. 

“I’m coming with you.”

“The fuck you are.”

“Yes, the fuck I am.”

“Stilinski—“

“You said it yourself, Jackson. Lydia acted as the perfect buffer. So I’ll take that position. And I’ll have to come home at some point, so I’ll just make sure I bring you with me.”

God, he was making it sound so easy—but Jackson wouldn’t let himself hope, for an instant, that it would be so simple. 

“Stilinski, you can’t just leave your dad alone for the holidays.” Jackson snapped, slightly concerned as Stiles just shrugged that off. “He won’t be alone. He has Scott, and Melissa, and the pack. And the pack includes you too, asshole. So, I’m going.”

Jackson felt his scowl deepen as he tried again, worry sparking in his stomach. “This isn’t a simple day trip, you idiot. You don’t have a ticket, you don’t even have—“

“I have my passport, dumbass.” Stiles snarked as he pulled it out of his backpack, smacking it against Jackson’s chest. “And you’re a Whittemore. Do you really mean to tell me you can’t get another ticket last minute? Are your connections really that useless?”

Jackson gaped at him, his irritation spiking again. Of course they could get another ticket, that wasn’t the fucking point.

“That isn’t the fucking point.” So maybe his eloquence was lacking in his current state, sue him. “It won’t work. Lydia wasn’t a buffer just because she was there, she was a buffer because she was—“

“Jackson, who was at the do… oh, hello, uh… what’s going on?”

Stiles and Jackson both looked up in near perfect sync as Jackson’s mother descended the stairs, his hand still pressed against Jackson’s chest, suitcase still lingering in the doorway.

Jackson snapped his eyes back to Stiles with a glare, brow moving in a truly impressive (and vaguely Hale-esque way, Derek would be so proud). 

Stiles, the bastard, only smiled, watching Jackson’s jaw tic as his mind moved a thousand miles an hour. After what felt like an eternity, Jackson nodded curtly, pulling Stiles’ arm as he turned back to the stairs. His other hand slid around Stiles waist, tugging him close, and Stiles only had half a moment to go into shock before Jackson was speaking. 

“Uh, you remember Stiles, right? I invited him along for Christmas this year.” Jackson started, his press-polite-fake smile plastered on his face, and… wait, when did Stiles learn the difference between his real and fake smiles?

“I’m sorry I didn’t clear it with you, I spaced it out. But it would mean a lot to me if he could come with us.”

Stiles felt his heart sink a little, guilt weighing on him in the slightest way—he couldn’t put into words how uncomfortable he was with Jackson apologizing for his own lie. Jackson could smell it on him, and he squeezed Stiles a little tighter, already accepting the unspoken apology.

“Can you see if Dennis can add another ticket and room, last minute? It would mean a lot to me to be able to spend Christmas with my boyfriend.”

…

Wait, what?

Stiles must have been as shocked as Jackson’s mother looked, but thankfully, she recovered far before Stiles could even process what was going on. She was off in moments, talking about how lovely it would be to have company with them, her smile seemingly genuine as she went back upstairs.

Stiles, on the other hand, was stuck in place, gaping at Jackson like a fish out of water, and Jackson, the asshole, was watching, a smirk slowly spreading on his lips. 

“I was saying that it wouldn’t work, you fuckhead, because Lydia wasn’t just a buffer due to proximity. She was the perfect buffer because she was my girlfriend.” Jackson’s smile was sweet but his words were pure poison, and Stiles closed and opened his mouth a few more times before he found his voice again. 

“Who the fuck is Dennis?”

Jackson actually did laugh at that, a curious expression on his face, explaining the wonders of being on a first-name basis with a travel agent as he snatched Stiles passport, took a picture of all of the relevant information on it, and sent it to… well, Dennis, Stiles assumed.

His gape turned into a grimace, though, when Jackson turned fully to him, already starting to shutter himself. 

“Look, I know this wasn’t what you had in mind, at all, and don’t even lie to me and say you’re fine with it. So if you want to back out, this is your… only chance, Stilinski.“

“Stiles.”

“What?”

“Dude, if I’m your boyfriend now, it’s Stiles. No last name crap.”

“….fake boyfriend, if anything, and what I’m saying is—“

“Jackson, shut up and listen to me.” Stiles said, grabbing Jackson’s hand and putting it directly onto his heart. Jackson, blessedly, shut up as requested. His tongue suddenly heavy in his mouth—he swallowed, all too aware that he probably wasn’t going to be a huge fan of whatever came out of Stiles mouth next. He was never a fan of people forcing him to hear what they said as truth, but something in his gut told him that it wouldn’t be quite the sucker punch coming from Stiles. 

“You are pack.” No lie detected. 

“You’re important to the pack.” …no lie detected.

“And I am never, ever, letting anyone take you from the pack.”

Jackson didn’t even need to feel Stiles heartbeat to know he was telling the truth. 

Hearing it so blatantly laid out before him wasn’t the sucker punch to the stomach that Jackson was expecting, it was so, so much worse. Jackson would have preferred the sucker punch to the sudden feeling of butterflies.