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celtic-crossbow · 10 months

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Who Needs Forever?

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

Summary: (Season 10) Rewrite of a portion of the episode “Stalker.” You and Lydia find Daryl after the fight with Alpha, and he’s barely hanging on.

Warnings: Blood and injury

A/N: This scene always bugged me. Daryl was damn near bleeding to death and somehow little Lydia was able to move him and patch up what could have been a fatal wound? Once again, I should be working on requests but my brain took a detour. I’ll get to them, I promise

gif by @jaaryl

The decrepit, little garage was lit only by the light of the moon by the time you followed Lydia to its doors. Adjusting Daryl’s crossbow on your shoulder, you called the girl’s name quietly, your expression conveying your earlier statement.

“We get her to tell us where Daryl is and then you do as you will. If she killed him, she belongs to me.”

Lydia nodded her acquiescence and entered before you. It was easy to make out Alpha on the ground but as you neared and could see the state she was in, the anxiety already resident in your stomach gnawed and twisted as a living being trying to claw its way out. Your steps quickened to bring you above daughter and mother, your breathing bordering hyperventilating. You stopped yourself, holding it in so you could hear what was being said.

The woman was spouting off her nonsense, her wheezing breaths barely audible. Your eyes narrowed. Wait. Those breaths weren’t Alpha’s. Lydia and her mother no longer existed to you. You spun in place, desperately seeking…

“Oh my god, Daryl!” You could only pray your cry had not been heard by walker or whisperer, but mostly you prayed for things to not be as bad as they appeared. “Daryl.”

He was on his back, face and neck bloodied. His hand laid limply against his thigh, a crimson pool spread beneath the drawn up leg. His eyes were closed and he was much, much too pale. Your pack and his crossbow were forgotten on the floor beside you while you cradled his face in your palms. “Daryl, open your eyes. Please, please, open your eyes.” Keeping your voice low was indeed nearly impossible in your panicked state.

His skin was cool, clammy; the fear that he had just lost too much blood…that you were too late…was at the forefront of your mind. Then he took a deep breath. His eyes rolled and lids fluttered as he struggled to open them. “That’s it. Come on, look at me.” Finally, finally, he managed mere slits of dull blue.

“m’I dead?” He could barely manage a whisper.

“No!” That came out so much harsher than you had meant it. “No, baby, you’re not dead.” You sniffled, smoothing back his hair. You didn’t even realize you were crying.

“Baby, huh?” He croaked out before a weak cough.

“Easy.” You allowed him to get his breathing back to the pitiful rasp it had been before giving him a wet smile. “Shut up, Dixon. You look like shit, so I’ll call you whatever I want.” He merely hummed and closed his eyes. “No, no, no. You gotta stay awake! Lydia! We have to go!”

“Shit,” came the girl’s quiet reply from behind you.

“Daryl.” His eyes fought to open again, less than the first time. “Daryl, we have to move you. We have to get you to Hilltop.” There was no point in asking if he could stand. The answer was obvious. He was already out again. “Lydia, help me get him up.” You didn’t wait for her reply before ripping the bottom of your shirt and tying it tightly around his leg. Questions burned at the back of your thoughts: did Lydia kill Alpha? Could you still trust her? But nothing could break through your determination to get Daryl to safety. Answers would have to wait.

“Should…should we be moving him?” The former Whisperer watched as you shouldered your pack and Daryl’s weapon before joining you to grab underneath the archer’s arm.

“We can’t stay here.”

He was dead weight as you grunted to lift him and pull his arm over your shoulder, Lydia mirroring you on his opposite side. The toes of his boots dragged noisily across the concrete on the way to the door. You deliberately kept your eyes averted from the enemy as you passed her body and exited the station. Alive or dead, her following would come for her and the three of you could not be there when they did.

You struggled along at a painstakingly slow pace for what felt like hours, the safety of the Hilltop community never seeming farther away than it did in that moment. Sweat dripped from your chin, your shirt dampened from perspiration.

“I need…a minute.” The young girl panted.

You didn’t answer for a moment, hoping she would just suck it up and continue onward for Daryl’s sake. Then she stumbled and barely righted herself.

“Okay. Alright, but just a few minutes.”

The archer was gently lowered to the ground with you immediately kneeling beside him while Lydia collapsed to her back. Resting actually gave you a moment to check in on him. His breaths were coming too fast. His pulse fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings. Fuck. His lips were turning blue.

“Lydia! Here,” you choked out while sliding your pack from your shoulders. “Put this under his feet.” You grabbed the first aid kit and a bottle of water from inside and then tossed the bag toward her.

“What? Why?”

“He’s going into shock.” Peeling off your jacket, you placed it over him and then twisted the cap from the bottle. “We have to keep him warm. We can’t do a transfusion or an IV so we have to get fluids in somehow. I think I can sew up the wound but we have to do this first to start replacing what he’s lost.” God, if only you could build a fire without leading danger straight to you.

Everything you said was beyond what the girl could understand, you knew that. A battle raged within you whether to send her for help or keep her there in case you needed to move or defend Daryl. Getting water in him was proving to be a challenge. You settled for the incredibly slow process of tiny amounts followed by massaging his throat to get it down.

“What…how can I help?”

You heard her but didn’t reply, continuing your ministrations until a fourth of the water was gone. His leg was next. The makeshift bandage was already darkened and saturated with blood. Threading a needle wasn’t easy in the best of times, much less with nothing but moonlight and tears. “I need you to go to Hilltop.” You sniffled as you examined his leg with the help of a penlight from the kit. If his artery had been nicked, he would have already bled out. “Can you get yourself there from here?”

She gave a jerky nod.

“You’re sure?” You pressed with a no-nonsense glance.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.” Lydia stood and prepared to go but you grabbed her wrist. You poured everything you could into the look when your words failed you.

Please, hurry.

She nodded again and then she was gone.

You took a deep breath before clasping the light between your teeth, leaving one hand free to clear the blood while you sewed with the other. The man under your hands didn’t stir. You would have given a vital organ for just a flinch. Minutes passed like hours, your hands trembling fiercely by the time you tied off the stitches, cleaned, and dressed the wound. With the major bleeding stopped, you checked the cut on his forehead. It was deep but was no longer bleeding and could be dealt with later. There were other lacerations that still bled sluggishly but were easily sealed off with gauze and tape. Then it was back to water until the bottle was empty.

Through it all, Daryl remained frighteningly unresponsive.

With nothing left to do but wait, you sat back against a tree and gingerly placed his head on your lap. His hair was slick with sweat and blood, causing tangles as you carded your fingers through the dark strands. His skin was colder than before and that terrifying blue tinge to his lips remained. Unable to stand the sight of him in such a state any longer, you clicked off the light.

His breathing remained shallow but seemed to have slowed. Two fingers to his neck proved that his pulse was still too fast but had also come down. At this point, you’d take any positive sign that he was holding on. “Don’t die on me, Dixon.” You whispered through a choked off sob.

“Don’t plan…on it.”

You gave a breathless, watery laugh and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You’re too stubborn for that shit anyway, right?” He hummed in what you assumed was agreement.

“Alpha…dead?”

“I don’t know. Was too busy saving your lazy ass to ask.” You stroked his cheek with your knuckles when he made a sound that was suspiciously close to a chuckle. With a glance to the forest’s canopy, you could see the outline of the clouds from the first hints of daylight. Another check revealed that his pulse was now a little slower than you’d like but not dangerously so. “Stay with me, okay?”

“M’here.” His voice was barely above a whisper. You had to assume any energy he’d found was nearly tapped out. “Tired.”

“I know.” You adjusted the jacket closer to his body and took a moment to glance around for any signs of trouble. “Lydia went to get help. They’ll be here soon.” Another noncommittal hum. Or maybe he was just too weak for words now. “I swear, when we get you back on your feet, I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

“Won’t be so bad.”

“You think that now. Wait til you need to pee.” You laughed through the last of your tears. You opened your mouth to add another scenario when you heard voices in the distance, one of which clearly called your name. “Sounds like the rescue party has arrived.”

“Yeah… so quit your cryin’.”

“Your fault, Dixon.” You shot back without heat.

“I know. M’sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You smiled. You could hear your friends running toward you now, Aaron’s voice carrying louder than the rest. “Just don’t make a habit of it.”

As the sun finally rose, you could see the corner of his mouth twitch.

“I’ll try my best.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x gn!reader #Spotify

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mummybear · 8 months

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My Brother's Best Friend - Part 3 - Explanations

Words: 6287

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Tiny Bit Of Smut, Multiple Heart To Heart, Protective Scott, Possessive Stiles, Jealously, Talk Of Marking, Talk Of Mates. Think that's it.

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Reader/Sadie McCall, Lydia Martin, Liam Dunbar, Allison Argent, Melissa McCall, Derek Hale.

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski and Reader

Summary: A little bit more of the truth is revealed and things get heated between Stiles and Sadie, not in all positive ways. Just how much can Sadie take?

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry I know I missed a week there, had a busy week at work! And hopefully this extra long chapter will make up for it, I was going to cut it into two chapter but I felt it flowed better as one, so I hope that's okay! Please let me know what you think, really hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 3 - Explanations

Scott’s whispered confession reaches your ears and you collapse against him almost immediately. Being turned was the one thing Stiles had insisted that he would never want, and he’d become increasingly adamant as the years had gone on. You can’t help but worry how this has affected their friendship, this was a pretty big thing to come between two friends. You also need to find out just how badly it’s currently affecting the two of them individually. They were two of the most important people in your life, which only made hearing all of this that much harder.

Scott pulls back to look at you as soon as you’ve recovered from the shock. You know that he needs to talk, to get this off of his chest, so you don't say anything in reply. You're slightly unsure of what to say right now anyway, because he’d done it, you knew he wasn’t lying, he’d bitten Stiles and that only meant one thing.

Besides, It's not like you can argue with him, because given his choices and his abilities, you would've done the same thing, especially in the heat of the moment. Knowing your brother the way you do, you know how hard it was for him to make that decision. He’d never wanted to turn anyone, let alone somebody who couldn’t make the decision for themselves.

A fleeting thought crosses your mind, does Stiles still have the beginnings of his mothers condition? Or had his new werewolf side shielded him from that reality? But Scott speaking pulls you from your thoughts.

"Trust me, nobody can hate me more than I hate myself for what I did that day. I know it was selfish, I do. But I couldn't lose my best friend, Sadie. Not like that, not when I had the chance to save him."

You hug him again, making sure to squeeze him extra tight.

"I won't tell you that you made the wrong decision, Scott, because that would make me a hypocrite. I'm pretty sure in your position I would've done the same. But have the two of you spoken about any of this? The guilt you're clearly feeling? Are you guys okay?"

"Sorry, I’m just worried about you, well, both of you." You mumble under your breath, pulling back to look at him. You're sure that your wince is visible as soon as the words leave your lips.

Not that Scott shows any sign of being overwhelmed by your inquisition, nothing new there though. He simply gives you a fond smile as he looks you over, as if contemplating if you can handle his next words.

"Typical, Sadie. Always thinking of everyone else, never yourself.” Scott sighs softly, before he continues.

“Stiles knows how I feel and why I feel it, and he gets it. We've talked at length about this, trust me, I think he’s sick of me asking at this point. He isn't happy about what I did, not by a long shot, but he's had time to process and he understands why I did what I did." Before Scott can continue he groans in pain and clenches his teeth.

You quickly grab his shoulders and force him to look at you. "I guess I got it from my big brother, huh?” You state matter of factly, trying your best to distract him from whatever pain he’s feeling but you watch as he balls his hands into fists, clearly doing his best to ignore whatever is wrong. Then you watch as his face begins to contort in pain, instantly worrying you.

“Scott, what Is it?" You demand as the worry tightens your stomach almost painfully. He reaches out and quickly grabs the couch and his claws start protruding from the tips of his fingers.

"I hate to ask you this, Sadie. But I need you to go down to the basement with me. Stiles needs you, he's in pain and he and I, our connection, it’s diff…" Scott's sentence is cut off when he moans, grabbing at his head and dropping to the floor.

You don't even think as you leave your brother, making a run for it, heading towards the basement door. You rip the door open and charge down the stairs, flinging open the final door as soon as it’s in reach.

"Stiles?" You call out as soon as you round the corner, but you come to a halt as soon as your eyes fall on the man in question, he’s chained to the wall in front of you. Growling low and sinister the closer you get to the men. You glance at Derek and Liam standing off to the side, looking like they’re ready to pounce at the slightest hint of trouble, and move away a little.

Lydia quickly grabs your hand and pulls you with her all the way to the other side of the room, with Allison and your mom.

You very quickly realise that you can't look away from Stiles. His eyes are a much deeper purple than you had initially seen earlier. Maybe they changed depending on the situation and perhaps his emotions played a part in it too. Simply another thing you were yet to find out.

You finally allow yourself a real look at him and the man he’s become. Your eyes move over him slowly, taking your time to check him out. He's certainly not the same Stiles Stilinski that you remember. He looks mouth-wateringly good, even covered in dirt and blood, his corded muscles ripple as he strains against the restraints, his clothes clinging tightly to his sweat-soaked body. You’re unable to get over how he was still the skinny defenceless boy you’d fallen in love with. His hair is a little longer than it was the last time he’d been home. Yet another thing you’d failed to notice. Stiles had you so distracted earlier tonight that you’d barely managed to pay attention to anything, except the things he was doing to you. You didn’t give much thought to how much he had changed.

"Mine." Stiles growls suddenly for the second time tonight. Hearing that word again snaps you from your admiration of him, especially when he begins to thrash in his chains to get to you.

However, the tighter he pulls against his bindings the more blood drips from his elbows, but he either doesn’t care or he doesn’t seem to notice. Almost like the rage had consumed him. Stiles doesn’t even seem like himself right now, It’s almost like he’s possessed. And It’s killing you to watch him like this, to see him hurting himself in this way. The fact that it’s because of you doesn’t escape your notice.

You swallow thickly as you step closer to him, almost like you’re hypnotised by him once again. Except that this time you're very aware of the pull, so you don't put up any resistance. You wince when you catch sight of just how deep the handcuffs and chains have cut into his wrists. You’re really hoping that Stiles heals just as quickly as Scott, or he’s gonna be in a lot of pain for quite a few days at least.

"Let him free, please. I need him out of there and so does my brother." You whisper to nobody in particular, eyes locked on Stiles’.

"We can't, Mini. I’m sorry, really. But we don't know what he'll do. He isn’t himself right now and we need to wait for Scott. Alpha’s orders." His words are careful, almost like he’s worried about upsetting you. Apparently he’s right to be worried about your reaction, because suddenly anger creeps up your spine, almost as if it isn't your own and you round on the Beta.

"I said let him the fuck out. Now. It's hurting him and my brother. So your Alpha can’t exactly speak for himself right now. So do it, let him out.” Your voice is practically a growl as you march up to Liam and shove him back against the wall. He holds his hands up to try and placate you, for some reason that just makes your anger spike higher. Your hands tighten in his jacket as you shove him back harder. “Or we can find out what happens if you really piss me off."

Anger is thick in every one of your senses. Although now this anger is one hundred percent your own. It’s a feeling you’re all too familiar with, though not at this intensity. It’s the feeling of needing to protect something that’s yours, so even though you might not have the same power as the people in this room, it is something you can’t stop yourself from trying to do.

You feel everyone’s eyes on you. Of course they don’t look overly concerned about you hurting anyone. It’s probably just that they don’t like seeing you upset, you quickly glance at Derek, “just wait okay, I’ll go get Scott.”

You give Derek a stiff nod in return, watching him leave until the door closes behind him. No matter how much you try to calm yourself, it feels like the anger and despair are drowning you. It’s beginning to scare you now, there’s no controlling it, your hands shake as you screw your eyes shut, searching for some semblance of calm.

"Don't do this, this isn’t you, Sadie. It's okay, I’m okay. Breathe for me, please." You spin around hearing his raspy breathless voice and once again your eyes lock with Stiles.

His eyes have returned to the chocolate brown colour you've always loved. "Stiles," you sigh in relief. Taking a deep breath and stumbling back a little, as the anger seems to leave you in a dizzying rush, almost as if Stiles had helped you gain control of your emotions. But that’s not possible, right?

Your mother wraps her arms around you, right as Scott stumbles into the room with Derek’s arm wrapped around his waist to hold him up.

"He's back. For everyone's sake let him out." Scott’s breathless as Derek releases him and helps him lean against the wall to catch his breath.

Allison quickly undoes Stiles' chains with the key that she’d been tightly clutching the whole time, and with a nod from your brother Lydia and Liam rush to grab Stiles as he collapses under his own weight. You have to look away when Stiles rests his head on Lydia’s shoulder, jealousy and sadness hit you all at once, like a punch to your gut. Turning around in your mother’s arms you wrap yours around her too, burying your face in her shoulder.

Suddenly goosebumps raise at the back of your neck, “not now, Stiles. Sadie needs rest. Now that you’re back to yourself. I hope you understand that.” Your arms tighten around her, and you thank the stars that Melissa McCall is your mother, she has this ability to sense what you need before you even say anything.

Without another word she turns you both and wraps her arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her body tighter, as she leads you out of the room. You follow silently, unsure of what to say. This day has already been completely crazy, you just need a little time and space to process everything. It’s so damn late you’re surprised the sun hasn't started rising yet.

As soon as the two of you walk inside your room you collapse on the bed, throwing an arm over your eyes, but you can feel your mom watching you.

“Can we not talk about it, momma. I just need the rest of the night to myself, we can talk tomorrow, okay? I promise I’ll be fine.”

You inwardly flinch as the images of all the times you’ve seen Stiles and Lydia together flash through your mind on an unforgiving loop.

“Sure baby girl, you’ve got it. But you need anything, you know where I am.” She gives your leg an affectionate squeeze before heading out of the room, with a sigh you close your eyes and roll onto your, doing your best to sleep. Feeling a tear roll down your cheek as the images continue to assault your senses.

Some Time Later That Night

You wake suddenly, hearing the creek of the bedroom door as it opens slowly. You sit up and quickly turn on the bedside light, squinting at the brightness it brings. Your heart hammers in your chest as you feel yourself beginning to panic. Then a mop of brown hair appears around the door, “sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to talk, or sit, or I guess just be near you. If that’s okay? This is… I sound like an idiot, I just-” you cut him off, unable to stop yourself from giggling at him, his cheeks are bright pink and he looks so nervous. Which is so strange with how he looks now, but it’s also so much like the Stiles you used to know.

“Come in, sit down. Dork,” you smile, patting the bed beside you trying to pretend all he is your brother’s best friend coming to talk, and completely ignoring the fact that you’d been making out a few hours ago.

He watches you closely, almost like he’s worried about scaring you off if he moves quickly.

“You sure? I couldn’t sleep, I just… I guess I just need to be near you, if you don’t mind that is. I don’t want to overstep, guess I thought we could talk.” He’s rambling and fiddling with his own fingers as he watches you closely.

You carefully lay your hand on top of his when he sits beside you on your bed.

“Stiles, It’s okay that you’re nervous. I am too, this whole thing is kind of crazy.”

“You have no idea just how crazy it is. Scott said he told you what happened to me. With this,” he says as he waves his hand over his body.

“This is so strange to talk about, I never saw all of this in my future. Even though I don’t even know what this is exactly. Deaton has some running theories. Unfortunately none of us have anything concrete to go on right now.”

“Can I ask where Scott…” you can’t finish the sentence, unsure if it’s rude to ask about his mark.

Stiles swallows hard and nods, meeting your eyes, he shrugs off his hoodie and extends his arm. The mark is half way up his forearm, and to your surprise it’s still visible. You vividly remember how Scott’s had disappeared pretty quickly after he’d been bitten by Peter.

“Yeah, I kinda got that you’re not just any kind of wolf, you’re different. Right?” you ask as he links his fingers with your own.

Stiles leans back against the headboard and you do the same, turning so that you look him in the eyes. This feels good, like he trusts you, like he wants to confide in you, it’s something you’d always wanted. To feel like you could be there for him when he needed somebody the most.

“I was starting to get used to it, the whole wolf thing. Well, as much as was possible. But then I saw you and something changed, it was like I couldn’t control myself, I needed to get to you. I know you probably don’t want to talk about this, but when I found that douche in that room with you, I lost it. The thought of him touching you made me feel sick, the fact that you clearly weren’t interested both helped and made things so much worse. I wasn’t just angry as your brother’s best friend or even as your friend.” He reaches up and cups your cheek with his free hand, “I didn’t want his filthy fucking hands anywhere near you. I had to have you, make you mine. Possess you, mark you,” he rasps, his voice becoming breathy and laboured, and the purple in his eyes flashes again, before quickly returning to brown.

You swallow thickly, arousal and nerves swimming inside you like an uncontrollable force. “What about now?” you whisper, leaning in a little bit closer.

“Right now, I can’t lie. Those thoughts haven’t changed, they’re still there, no matter how much I try to push them down. The more time we spend together, the harder it gets to ignore, and it gets harder by the second not to throw you on this bed and make you mine.” He all but growls before clearing his throat.

Stiles gives you a wry smile as he shakes his head. “But now I’m in control of myself, I won’t do anything, not until you know everything. I won't let you do anything more with me, not until you know as much as we do.”

“Wow,” you whimper, clenching your thighs together as his words continue to stoke the fire inside you. You clear your throat and take a shuddered breath when Stiles subconsciously edges a little closer to you, so that your thighs are touching.

“What, you’re not even going to kiss me?” The words leave your parted lips in a breathy whisper.

“No.” His words are sharp and blunt. You wish it didn’t turn you on more but it does.

“What else do I need to know?” you question quietly. Licking your lips as you watch him closely, wishing that you could just get this out of the way and get to the good stuff.

His thumb brushes your bottom lip, “stop doing that for starters, beautiful.”

“Why’s that?”

He chuckles quietly. “I think you know exactly why, so stop being a smart ass.”

Your nose brushes against his as you lean in the last little bit, “maybe you should tell me what I need to know Agent Stilinski, then we can get down to business.”

“Ugh, come on you little minx. Don’t do that to me,” Stiles groans, brushing his nose over yours softly.

“Just a little taste,” you whisper before moving in and pressing your lips to his. Stiles sighs in defeat and pulls you closer.

“Fine. You win for now…” Stiles mumbles, pulling away briefly to meet your eyes, “but we’re not doing anything permanent. Not until we talk.”

“Yes Sir,” you grin, throwing off your duvet and climbing into his lap. The sleep shorts you’d pulled on before bed pull tight against your ass as you settle your knees either side of his hips.

You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, letting everything you have ever felt for him pour into the kiss. He holds you close, wrapping his arms around you as his tongue moves to brush against yours. The kiss quickly deepens and you feel his fingers beginning to dig into your skin soft harshly, but it only makes you want him more. You whimper as the passion intensifies and you feel like your heart is about to beat out of your chest. You can’t get close enough to him for your liking, It’s almost like you want to be a part of him.

“Please,” you moan against Stiles’ lips as he pulls your hips tighter against his.

The rigid length of his thick cock settles between your thighs, and you can’t help but whimper as you experimentally roll your hips over him.

“Don’t, Sadie.” Stiles demands, his eyes glowing purple once more, only this time the colour doesn’t leave his eyes and you quickly stop your movements.

Stiles tightly grips your ass now in both hands and his fingers dig into your bare skin. You cup his cheeks and watch him closely as you tell him what you need to. Both of you breathing heavily against each other's lips, then the lust that was thick in the room quickly begins to fade.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry, we should talk.” You sigh regretfully, looking down into your lap as you drop your hands to his chest.

“Hey. Look at me,” Stiles asks you, moving his hands up and gently squeezing your hips.

“I guess I’ve just wanted this for so long, you and me I mean. I never even considered you’d look in my direction.” You look up to meet his eyes, instead you find him chewing on his lower lip. “What?”

“How long?” Stiles asks as his thumbs rub soothing circles into your hips.

“What does that matter?” You ask nervously, looking at the wall behind him, too afraid to meet his eyes.

“I’m just interested. I never noticed anything, you never said anything.”

“Come on, Stiles. You’re my big brother’s best friend. I’m just some huge cliche. Not to mention the fact that you’ve been in love with Lydia for so many years. I accepted a long time ago that I never stood a chance. Maybe this thing between us will just fizzle out soo-”

Stiles cuts you off when his lips meet yours, you squeeze your eyes shut as a tear rolls down your cheek. You wrap yourself around him tighter, doing your best to hold onto whatever this is for as long as possible. Stiles threads his fingers through your hair as he attempts to pull you closer. Both clinging to each other as you pour everything you have into a kiss once again, too worried this will be your last. Stiles pulls away slowly, giving your lips a final soft peck.

“I might not know everything about us just yet, but don’t say that we’re temporary. I’d never do that, not to you. I don’t want you ever even thinking that ever again. This is exactly why I said we needed to talk.”

You sigh and rest your forehead against his, “okay, so talk.”

“Okay. So I guess we should start from the beginning. Back when Scott turned eighteen he started having these urges. They were so intense and he really struggled to stop himself from taking every opportunity to be with Alison. When I say be with Alison I mean like be with her,”

“Okay, eww. Stop with the visuals I get it.”

Stiles clears his throat, failing miserably to hide his laugh before continuing. “Anyway, it didn’t matter where they were or who they were with, they couldn’t stop themselves. Frankly I almost threw up on several occasions, frankly I’m surprised that you didn’t notice. Anyway, it only got worse, he started getting visions, he was unbelievably possessive and protective of her and anyone who was around her got the brunt of it, specifically men.” Stiles gives you a sheepish smile as he pulls back to look at you.

“Okay, so some of this sounds familiar…” you trail off, admiring the way he looks in that moment.

“Right, I’m getting to that. So, when Alison started acting out, feeling things that were far from the usual, experiencing not only her emotions but Scott’s as well, amongst a bunch of other things you’ll probably soon notice with us, he went to Deaton for help. Scott asked Deaton if he knew what the hell was going on with him and with Allison, especially since she wasn’t a wolf. As it turns out the good doctor had some idea, he’d been doing some more research into the whole true Alpha thing, while the research is limited, for obvious reasons, it did mention something about the true Alpha and their pack having mates. Where regular werewolves aren’t heard to have mates specifically, Scott is different, and by extension so is anyone in his pack. More specifically the wolves he has turned will be the ones more likely to be affected.” You can almost feel his excitement the more he talks, and his grip on you tightens.

You gently pry his hands off of you, doing your best to ignore the hurt look that crosses his face when you climb off of his lap, moving to sit beside him instead.

You’re pretty sure that you’re starting to connect the dots, as much as you want to listen, you can’t deny that you’re becoming increasingly nervous the more that he talks.

“Please, don’t run. Not again. I know this is alot to take in, but…” you cut him off with a shake of your head.

“I’m not gonna run, Stiles. This is just a lot, and it only confirms everything I was worried about to begin with.” You sigh, rubbing your hands over your face. Stiles carefully and hesitantly wraps an arm around your waist and tries to pull you closer.

You can’t deny the comfort you feel being close to him, his skin touching yours only adds to everything you feel.

“Okay. It’s your turn to talk, what exactly is it that you’re worried about?” Stiles asks, turning your face so that you’re looking at him.

You feel a tear roll down your cheek as soon as your eyes clash with his, “let’s be honest here, Stiles. If it wasn’t for this whole mate bond thing, would you have even looked at me twice, in a way that wasn’t like I was your sister? Can you honestly tell me that anything would have changed between us if Scott hadn’t been forced to bite you that day?”

Your heart hammers painfully in your chest as you watch him, you can see the unease written all over his face. However, that only serves to prove your point and that just breaks your heart that much more.

“It doesn’t matter how things used to be, Mini, things damn well change. And we don’t know what would’ve happened. Please, don’t talk like this. It feels like you’re saying goodbye before anything even has a chance to start between us.” Cupping your face he wipes your tears away carefully. “Please, stop crying.”

“Well we don’t know that now do we!?” You can’t keep your voice down, there are too many emotions swirling inside you uncontrollably.

You jump off of the bed and start pacing your room, fully aware that Stiles is yet to take his eyes off of you. Hearing you bed creek you turn to face the movement, watching as he slowly walks towards you.

“Goddamit Sadie! Just stop. I get that you don’t understand how any of this works, well neither do I, not really! Not first hand! I understand that you don’t see that I could go from not seeing you the way I do now, seemingly out of nowhere. But it was like a bolt of lightning hit me the second I saw you tonight. I laid eyes on you and everything made sense, I know that you don’t completely understand, but surely you feel it?”

“Of course I feel it! I’ve felt it for the last decade of my life! My feelings didn’t just appear overnight! They only got stronger. And It fucking hurts, Stiles!”

“Then why can’t we give this thing a go! Just let me try, please! You don’t know what this mate bond means. At least let me explain that. If you don’t want to talk to me, then ask your brother or Allison, I’m trying here okay! Just tell me what I can do?” Stiles begs, stilling your pacing when he gently takes you by the arms.

“I want to talk to you about this, whatever this is… I just don’t know what to make of all of it.”

Running your hands through your hair you inwardly groan knowing what you’re about to say.

“But first I need to ask you something, and I want only honest answers. Even if it means that I won't like what you say, because I need to know that I can trust you. Especially If we do go through whatever needs to be done to complete this mate bond.”

“How do you know you need to do something to complete the bond?” Stiles asks, a slight grin kicking up the corner of his lips.

“Stiles,” you sigh, folding your arms across your chest.

“Okay, sorry. Go ahead, I promise I’ll be honest whatever that means for us, I won’t lie.” He looks nervous, but there’s a determination you can see written all over his face.

“Do you still have feelings for Lydia?” Your voice remains even and steady, no matter how much you’re dreading the answer to that question. One thing you’re sure of though is that you can read Stiles like a book, always have been able to. Or maybe he just wasn't a very good liar, you just hoped he hadn’t honed that particular skill while working with the FBI.

Stiles smiles at you and shakes his head.

“Honestly, no I don’t, at least not in the same way that I used to. A few years back Lydia talked to me about it, the guys had been joking with me about it, she overhead and pulled me to one side. We talked for a while and I realised my feelings weren’t the same as they used to be, sure I still love her, but only in the same way that I love Allison, that’s it.” He takes your hand and places it over his heart. His heartbeat remains steady and controlled, and his eyes stay locked with yours.

You’re so shocked that you just stare at him for a full minute with your mouth open, but then he begins to look a little too smug so you decide to speak.

“So, let’s say I believe you. Did Deaton say Scott and Allison needed to do something to complete the mating bond? Or was it just a sure thing the minute Scott turned eighteen?” you ramble, fully aware these questions are practically spilling from your mouth.

“I’m guessing you’re using your brother and Allison to try and distance yourself from this. I’ll play along with it.” Stiles agrees reluctantly, and you hate that you have to use your brother and his girlfriend as cover, but you need to distance yourself from the situation a little.

“Deaton’s research indicated that a lot of the myths and stories around werewolves aren't so crazy. As it turns out there’s actually a lot of truth behind them. A werewolves mate is its other half, almost like a soulmate. So when they finally find each other it’s usually instinctual to mark each other. Obviously, like I said, Scott is different. Mates haven’t been mentioned in decades amongst wolves, not until now. So far It’s only been Scott and our pack that we know of, but still, it also means that not both halves are always wolves. Like with Scott and Allison, and you and me.” Silence surrounds the pair of you as you stare at him, he smiles and tucks a finger under your chin to close your mouth.

You frown when Stiles’ smile suddenly drops, and he seems to be contemplating telling you something. However, then you hear him sigh and he screws his eyes shut. When he does open them you see his nervousness and worry staring back at you.

“I should also tell you something else. Something I wish so badly I could lie to you about, because right now I’m terrified you’ll want to choose this option. But I meant what I said, I won’t force you into this, and definitely not without all of the information.”

“Okay. I’m listening. But don’t be so sure I’ll take the easy route.” You smile, trying to reassure him somehow.

Stiles seems to ignore your words, and the worry doesn’t lift from his face as he scrubs a hand over it before speaking.

“You can refuse to be my mate. You can reject me and I can reject you. We also both have the option to refuse or accept the rejection. But I promise you here and now that if you chose to reject me I would accept it. If that was what you wanted, I won’t stop you. But I will NEVER reject you. I need you to understand that whatever happens, It won't be me rejecting you.”

“Is it painful? To reject someone I mean? How would we even do that?” you ask with confusion lacing your tone.

Stiles winces as at your reply and looks down at his hands, which he quickly tucks in his pockets.

“If that’s what you want to do, I understand. But the selfish part of me can’t explain to you how to do it. So you’ll need to get Deaton to explain it properly, I wouldn’t want you to mess it up, not if you truly wanted to do it. But yes, it is. It’s apparently the worst pain a wolf can experience.”

“And you’d do that? For me?” you ask in disbelief stepping closer.

“I’d fucking die for you Sades. What’s a bit of pain?”

Your heart practically breaks at that statement, the look on his face alone could shatter you right then and there, so you decide to try and change the subject. Especially since you have no intention of rejecting him either.

“Wow this is a lot,” you half laugh in disbelief, running a nervous hand through your hair.

“As soon as I caught your scent, my mouth watered and I knew instantly what you were to me, even before I knew who you were. Then I saw you, and that need to make you mine was so insistent and constant that I felt it everywhere. But I wouldn’t ever do that to you, not without you having full knowledge of the situation. I was doing okay at keeping my cool, but then we kissed and I lost it.”

“Has Scott marked Allison?” you ask swallowing thickly when you don’t find yourself completely against the idea.

“Sure has, right here,” he rasps as he trails his finger along your collarbone.

“Scott wanted it where everyone could see it.”

He licks his lips as your heart rate increases, you take a step back as he advances on you, until your back hits the wall.

You clear your throat as you look into his eyes once more, “have you thought about where you would mark me, if we did go ahead with this whole mating thing?”

“You little Minx are playing with fire right now. But since we’re being honest, I haven’t thought about much else. So don’t tease me.”

“C’mon! Tell me, please,” you whisper, unintentionally leaning into his touch.

Stiles chews on his bottom lip thoughtfully, you can feel his eyes roam across any uncovered skin, almost like it burns under his gaze. He hums thoughtfully as he traces several places with his fingers. He starts by tracing the line between your neck and shoulder, before he slowly moves down, lingering on the curve of your breast a little longer than necessary and your heart rate speeds up as he makes his way down your body. His eyes saying everything that his mouth won't.

“So many perfect places,” he mumbles, moving next to trace the line of your hip where your t-shirt has ridden up, lastly he moves between your thighs, tracing along your inner thigh keeping his touch high. He’s so close to your pussy that you can feel an intense heat beginning to overtake you when his fingers dig into your skin.

“Guess it depends just how badly I want people to know who you belong to, doesn’t it? Or If I want it somewhere only I can see.”

You're speechless as you tremble with need in front of him, the need to have him inside you is almost overwhelming. You would do anything to please him right now, you want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything. Stiles’ deep chuckle catches you by surprise as he leans in, inhaling deeply.

“I can smell your need, mate. You’re wet for me again, aren’t you?” he rumbles as he nuzzles into your neck. You’re fully aware it’s a statement not a question.

“That werewolf nose of yours is gonna be a real big pain in my ass, Stilinski,” you giggle as his breath tickles your skin.

He pulls back to grin at you again. “How about you? Where would you want my mark? I know you’re thinking about it, my little minx.”

Licking your lips you slip out from in between Stiles and the wall keeping your eyes on him. “Well, I could tell you the answer to that. But I think we’ve talked enough.”

You slowly slip your shirt over your head and Stiles’ rumbling growl fills the room. He steps forward and you step back another step, slowly letting your shorts drop, leaving you in your underwear.

“I think It’s only fair if we get a good, long, hard look at each other. You know, for research.”

Stiles doesn’t speak and his eyes haven't moved from your body. He quickly pulls off the black t-shirt he’s wearing, and you have to hold your breath at the sight in front of you. If you’d thought he was ripped before, dear lord were you in for a surprise. He has a six pack you could only dream of and he looks like he could throw you around the bedroom with those arms. That deep V at his hips has you itching to run your tongue along it.

You swallow thickly as he smirks at you, and those purple eyes return, only showing you that his emotions have some control over their colour.

“Well damn, you certainly healed up. Real fucking nicely.” You groan, licking your lips as he dips his thumbs into the waistband of his track pants, exposing more of that V.

“Glad you approve, Minx.” He grins, letting his pants drop to the floor, leaving him in his boxers.

“I’ve never been happier to be part of research. Because you look good enough to eat.”

Tags: @julzdec @lettersofwrittencollective @mogaruke @lilulo-12fanfiction @charmed-asylum @defenderrosetyler @emilyshurley @foxyjwls007 @mylovelydame21 @akshi8278 @peaches0007 @stylesismyhubs @peachyyybabyy @fantasy-myth1 @death-unbecomes-you @coffeebooksandfandom @magssteenkamp @screamxqueenx94 @brien-odylan @riseandshinelittleblossom @ceceliaking-18 @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @missindecision @deans-number-one-fan @onethirstyunicorn @amberboo329 @chewie-redbird @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf #teenwolf #stiles teen wolf #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you #stiles x reader #stiles and scott #my brother's best friend #Chapter 3 #mates #fated mates #marking #Stiles is werewolf #werewolf

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quigonswife8 · 1 year

Text

Feelings revealed: Peter Hale x reader

Peter overhears that you admit you love him

Okay so my crush on this man started when I was like 13-14 has only gotten stronger 'cause of the movie, so thought i'd write something about him.

Warnings: the pack being mean to Peter behind his back, swearing.

Peter deserved better. There, I said it. I know he’s done stuff and is viewed as ‘evil’ but I genuinely don’t think he is. Probably gonna get hate for that but I believe he isn’t, and he did become a good person.

Also Peter is a bit ooc but meh

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When did you fall for Peter? That's the question that you ask yourself everyday. When did you fall for him?

Was it when he had healed you for the first time, despite making it clear he didn't like you, at the time.

Was it when he had protected you when Hunter's were trying to kill you?

Or was it when he'd saved your life the first time out of many.

The room is full of quiet chatter and glances when you enter.

"Did we start the meeting already?"

...silence.

You pause, and tilt your head.

"Everything...alright?"

Though it's clearly not. So they're hiding something...but why?

"(y/n)."

Scott begins, standing up. He leans back against the table, trying to form words. If you could hear his heart right now.

As one of the only non-wolves in the groups you aren't able to hear people's hearts so you can't tell when they're lying. It's hard most- a lot of the time- but it honestly doesn't bother you.

"...It's..."

"It's Peter."

Lydia finishes his sentence, one hand on her hip.

"...we need to talk to you about him..."

A nervous look flicks onto your features. Why would they need to talk to you about him? Has something happened to him? He would have told you, you practically talk everyday. It's obviously not good, based on how they looked when you'd entered.

"What...about him?"

It's Derek, who answers you next. His arms crossed, as they usually are. He looks troubled...but for who? For himself, for Peter?

"..we need you to cut contact with him..."

There it is. There's the catch to this conversation. Of course you were stupid for thinking it would have been something different.

"What?"

"It's dangerous for you to be his friend..."

Rolling your eyes, you scoff.

"...it's also dangerous to be in beacon hills, but none of us have left."

good point

"...(y/n)..."

Scott remarks.

"If you were friends with anyone else, that would be fine, but it's..."

"Peter Hale.". Stiles adds in, pointing his finger. "...and we haven't had the best history with him."

They have always had a problem with Peter.

Even when he's helped. Yes he’s done stuff in the past, and yes understandable they don’t trust him, but that was the past. He's changed. Why can't they at least give him a chance? ‘Cause everything he’s done has mainly been for his family

"...yeah..." you reply, pointing at each of them. "Yours. Your history with him, not mine"

Beginning to grow frustrated as every second passes.

"...I'm not going to just cut contact with him because you tell me to-"

"But he's evil.". Stiles raises an eyebrow, trying to point out the facts when they're not true.

"He's not evil...he’s done some things but he’s not evil.”

Closing a fist to fight back from punching something, you avert your eyes away from Stiles. Avert from everyone. They're your family, and families fight. The other's share glances trying to find a way to make what they want to happen, happen.

Next, Derek steps forward again.

"Please, (y/n). Just..."

"No..."

now, as you stare at him, a flicker of anger shows in your eyes.

"...I'm not going to, and if that's all you wanted me here for, then i'm leaving..."

a beat. a beat of silence follows, solidifying your point.

"Fine, i'm leaving..."

Turning on your heel you begin to leave, ignoring the looks. Before yoou can disapper, though, Stiles says something else.

"..Why do you care about Peter so much?"

Theres so many reasons why, but the main reason is what you admit. What you hadn't been meaning to, but now with your emotions everywhere you can't help to.

Walking over to the door, you stop. Not looking back, only looking forward.

"...because I love him."

Pushing the door open, leaving them exchanging surprised glances.

The door closes behind you. Running a hand over your face, like before, you walk through the hallway. Coming around the corner a few seconds later, walking straight into something- correction- someone- when you do.

It's not anyone from back there, it's actually who you hadn't been meaning to run into quite so soon. Without even looking up at the person you just know.

"...Peter..."

looking up, eyes meeting his. He looks...surprised, which means..

"You heard me...?"

He nods, but his expression is different. Different than it usually is. He's not wearing a smirk, or wanting to say something like a joke, his expression is one of surprise- of confusion- but mostly happiness.

Why? because he never thought you would feel this way, and, judging by your heart, you weren't lying.

So he begins to say something, but you catch him off guard by leaning your head against his chest.

"...i'm sorry, Peter. You didn't deserve to hear what they said..."

Snapping out of his initial shock, he slowly wraps an arm around you, letting you get more comfortable in his hold.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I'm used to it..."

"You shouldn't have to be Pete."

and, you're right, but you're the only one who thinks that. Peter sighs.

"...do you want to get out of here…?”

Pulling away from Peter, you look up at him.

"...please.”

They'd probably try and convince you, again, but you can't listen to them right now.

"...let's go..."

He presses a soft kiss to your head, lingering a moment. Then the two of you leave. When you get into his car, you're on the road soon enough.

Head resting against the window, you look out at the road trying to forget what had just happened. Before you reach where he's staying, Peter glances over at you. Heart-beat slowed back down, to a more even rate.

"...I...love you too, you know."

He notices how your heart-rate picks up, but then falls back to normal. Smitten: that's what you are. You're smitten with him. You look over at Peter with a smile, with such love in your eyes. Never has he made you feel the way anyone else, not that you're complaining,

After a moment you look out the window again, but this time you're unable to stop smiling.

#teen wolf #peter hale #peter hale x reader

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fandomnsfw · 1 year

Text

Pain Makes You Human - Peter Hale x Reader

Pairing: Peter x Reader

Prompt: Requested by ANON

Warning: mentions of self harm, a bit of angst and self loathing ALSO SMUT because you guys wants me to take cold showers everyday...even in winter 😂

Thank you to my lovely Beta as always! @lets-imagine-fanfics

ENJOY!!!

******

Being a teacher is the only thing you ever wanted to do. Even when you had a rough patch in your teens and ended up homeless, it was still your dream. So when you came to Beacon Hills, after finally getting your teaching degree, you couldn’t have been more ecstatic... Except you soon found out why there were so many openings to jobs in this town.   

Being startled by a giant beast that oozes black smoke can seriously make a person question their life choices. According to a few rumours, this wasn’t the first strange thing that had happened. However, as a teacher for some reason, your only concern was that a bunch of kids seemed to be at the centre of all of it.  

Soon enough you’d manage to find yourself in the pack, as their favourite go-to teacher when they need to leave for a supernatural crisis. You soon became quite close to everyone, even Stiles. Who quite naturally didn’t trust you at all when you came to town.  

However, after La Bête you and he were quite close. A lot like a brother and sister but that didn’t stop the boy sending you flirty comments as a joke.   

“Come on, Y/N, you know you love me!” Stiles whined as he wrapped his arms around your waist and started to sway you back and forth.   

“Mieczyslaw Stilinski, I suggest you get your hands off Y/N before I shoved this spatula up your god damn ass.” Derek snapped as he pointed the spatula directly at Stiles.   

“Aww, don’t be jealous, Der Bear! I love you more!” Stiles chuckled sarcastically as he pranced over to Derek. You let out a snort before continuing to get out a bowl for your cereal.   

It was pack night the previous night so you were all cramped in Derek’s loft, that didn’t seem to bother anyone. It was now Monday and everyone was rushing to get ready. You usually drove Scott or Stiles to school depending on if Stiles bring his jeep.   

“Oh, have you two finally got your act together?” Peter chuckled as he strolled into the kitchen with a smirk.  

You let out a sigh before shaking your head at him letting him know the two were just flirting and nothing more. He rolled his eyes before pressing a kiss to your temple which caused you to smile down at your cereal.   

“Dad, can you please not kiss in front of me. It’s gross.” Malia groaned as she walked into the room with a disgusted face.   

“Malia, it was hardly explicit. I kissed my lover on the head it’s hardly anything to cringe about.” Peter sighed his fatherly tone shining through.   

“Ew. Don’t say the word 'lover' either. What century do you live in?” Malia gagged as Stiles laughed into Derek back.   

“I quite like the fact your father calls me lover. It feels more mature and intimate.” You snorted playfully earning a chuckle from Scott who was dragging a very sleepy Liam and Mason behind him.   

“Lover is a term a lot of older wolfs use.” Derek laughed as Stiles pulled away to look at him with wide eyes. Suddenly every wolf in the room sniffed the room and started groaning minus Peter who looked a little smug whereas Derek just looked shocked.   

“Oh, come on, can we at least try and pretend we didn’t just smell that!” Stiles huffed his cheeks flushing softly.   

“Did you just pop a boner from Derek saying the word lover?” You laughed as you placed your now empty bowl in the sink.   

“Oh, come on! Am I that obvious!?” Stiles huffed before pouring some coffee into a flask and storming out of the loft with a pout.   

*****  

You watched as the seniors poured into your class. Scott, Stiles, Lydia and Malia were already sat down which made you laugh because every teacher in the school never understood why they came early to your class, that is +until you carefully explained that you were close to the Sheriff and were also dating the uncle of Stiles’ boyfriend. Though Stiles didn’t know that you’d told the teachers that.   

You slipped your cardigan off before making your way to your desk. Before you could open your mouth a student spoke up causing you to groan.   

“Yes, Luke?” You huffed, your hands coming to rest on your hips as you impatiently waited for his question.   

“Teach, either your seriously one kinky bitch or you need to join the emo clique because those are beyond gross.” He snorted as he stared at your arms.   

Before you could retaliate or even think about his words, Stiles was out his seat and throwing Luke against a wall, holding him there by his throat. You ran over to the pair careful not to trip over in your heels before hitting Stiles’ back. Scott was out his seat and holding you back in seconds.   

“Stiles, let him go!” You snapped as you tried to struggle against Scott’s grip.   

“If you EVER talk to her like that again I will find you and I will beat you so bad you’ll be begging for death! Do you understand!?” Stiles screamed, the deepness of his voice shocking a few of the other classmates.   

“Why, did I upset your little girlfriend?” Stiles laughed at the boy’s response before looking into the boy's eyes, so coldly it sent visible shivers down his spine.   

“I SAID! Do. YOU. Understand?” Stiles growled causing the boy's eyes to widen.   

“Y-Yes!” Luke stuttered softly before Stiles finally let him go. You looked at Stiles as he turned around ignoring the boy who was now sitting on the floor catching his breath.   

“If a little brother can’t protect his sister what kind of man would I be?” Stiles laughed before ruffling your hair gently.   

“I-Idiot. I’m gonna have to give you detention now…” You sniffled as you wiped away the tears that had fallen.   

****  

You sat in your car outside of your apartment, staring down at the scars with hatred. You wished they were gone. You hated that you always had to hide your arms like some sort of innocent girl who goes to an all-girls Catholic school.   

Luke’s words kept running through your head. Despite the fact that his words were childish, they still hit a nerve within you. Peter knew and had seen your scars but he had always told you to never cover them because it was a reminder that I was stronger than some. That I had gotten through something most people couldn’t even dream of. However, that didn’t stop your tears that began falling down your face.   

You weren’t sure how long you sat there crying but when someone opened the door and you got hit with the scent of Peter’s favourite cologne. You knew you had to of been sat there for at least an hour.   

“Woah, baby, what’s the matter?” Peter asked softly as he picked you up and locked your car.   

“N-Nothing.” You sobbed as you clung to him tightly.   

“Sweetheart, you finished school over an hour ago and you look like you haven’t moved in at least that long. Your make up is all over your face and most of all you’re crying.” Peter sighed sadly as he carried you into your apartment with ease.   

“Oh, j-just another thing that makes me l-look gross.” You cried out as you wiped at your face furiously.   

“Who the hell said you were gross!?” Peter asked angrily, his eyes flashing blue as he stared down at you.   

“N-No one.” You knew even if he wasn’t supernatural he’d know that was a lie but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.   

“I’m calling Stiles.” Peter huffed angrily.   

You shot out your seat and tried to grab his phone but he held you back as gently as he could. The phone rang twice before Stiles picked up, his voice calm as if he knew why Peter was calling. Peter glanced at you as he asked what happened today.   

‘A student said something about her scars.’ Stiles answered sadly.  

“What did they say?!” Peter growled viciously.   

‘That she must either be a kinky bitch or belonged in the emo clique because her scars were gross.’ Stile huffed his anger matching Peter’s   

“What’s his name?” Peter snarled  

‘I handled it, don’t worry.’ Stiles replied calmly.   

“Thank you, Stiles.” Peter muttered in a soft tone that he only ever reserved for you before hanging up.   

He turned to you with a frown before picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom. His body was warm and inviting as usual, but for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to relax into it. You felt like you didn't deserve it.  

He placed you on the counter next to the sink before walking to the bathtub and turning the taps on. He was quiet which wasn't alarming because as much as Peter was sarcastic he enjoyed the quiet.  

He put one of the many lush bath bombs he’d bought you into the water before turning to the small makeup area you had on the opposite side of the sink.  

He picked up the packet of makeup removal wipes and moved back towards you, whilst taking one out. He reached towards your makeup smeared face and began wiping away the evidence of your minor break down.  

After another wipe was used your face was clear if makeup and the bath was done running. He stripped off the rest of your clothes along with his before picking you up and placing you in the bath.  

You moved forward silently so he could get in behind you. Once he was sat down he gathered up your hair and tied it into a messy bun so it wouldn’t get wet. It was amazing how he knew your daily routine. How he knew you didn’t wash your hair every day or how you used makeup removal wipes to remove your makeup but you still washed your face.  

He was beyond the perfect partner which is why you knew now that you were settled into the bath a conversation was about to happen. Whether you liked it or not. 

“You know your scars are not ‘gross’ right?” Peter muttered against your shoulder before pressing a soft kiss against your skin.  

‘No, I don’t know that.’ You thought bitterly. 

“Y-Yeah.” You lied despite knowing lying to a werewolf was useless.  

“Why don’t we try that again?” Peter sighed sadly as he picked up your exfoliating gloves. Usually, you would’ve laughed at the sight of the great Peter Hale wearing baby pink exfoliating gloves but right now you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh. 

“You are not gross. Your scars are not gross. Nothing about you is gross.” Peter muttered as he rubbed your usual body wash into the gloves.  

He began rubbing the gloves over your body with just the right amount of pressure so it didn’t hurt, yet still left a slight tingling feeling on your skin. After finishing your arms he moved onto your back when finally he spoke up again.  

“I will tell you again. Your scars are proof that you are a survivor.” He muttered as he continued scrubbing your back.  

“They’re self-inflicted.” You hissed bitterly causing him to stop all movements.  

“That means nothing to me.” He scolded before continuing his circular motions.  

“What do werewolves do to regain control if they can’t anchor it?” Peter asked gently.  

“T-That depends o-” 

“What do they do, Y/N?” Peter interrupted his tone leaving no room for avoidance.  

“T-They hurt themselves…” You muttered quietly.  

“Pain makes you human. Self-harm is different for everyone. Some do it for release, others for it to ground them. But…” Peter muttered as he began scrubbing your chest with slightly lighter circles this time.  

“…Everyone deals with things differently self-harm involved or not.” He sighed quietly as he started on your legs. 

“Some go insane and kill their niece to enact vengeance.” Peter. 

“Some bury it until they become sour and hateful towards everyone.” Derek. 

“And others lean on friends and move on in a healthy way.” Scott. 

By the time he’d made his point your whole body had been washed leaving you clean and feeling slightly better about the day’s events. You knew this conversation wasn’t over by a long shot but at least now you felt willing to listen. 

After Peter washed himself with his own sponge he rinsed you both off and picked you up to help you out the bath. Once he set you on your feet you wobbled a little before righting yourself. He walked towards your makeup area and picked up your toner and moisturizer before moving back to you once again.  

He used a cotton pad to apply the toner gently all over your face. You almost laughed at how sweetly domestic the scene was but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to just yet, instead you settled for a sad smile as he waited for the toner to dry.  

Once he finished putting your moisturizer on, he dried you off then wrapped the towel around you. You followed him to the bedroom silently waiting for his next words but as you came to a stop in front of him, words were clearly not how he was going to proceed.  

You let you towel fall as he picked you up and placed you on the end of the bed carefully, before kneeling down in front of you and proceeding to kiss up your smooth legs.  

His movements were slow and loving causing your breath to stutter. Your eyes never left his, until he finally reached the scars on your thighs which evidently made you avert your eyes. 

Most people didn't know about the scars on your thighs. Mostly because after a 'conversation' with your parents about how they'd force you to get help if they saw anymore, you'd decided to switch to a less noticeable place. 

When his lips finally pressed against your scars your breathing stop for a second before you finally forced yourself to look. When your eyes looked down Peter's were staring straight back at you with so much love and affection it almost made you whimper. 

As he continued kissing up your body you let out a soft moan. He skipped past your core which usually would be a form of playful torment. However, right now, you knew this wasn't about pleasure. It was about reassurance that no matter what, this man would love you. 

As he moved to your arms his eyes flicked back to yours making sure your eyes had not once again averted. When he was happy they hadn't he continued placing soft wet kisses against the scars. 

You finally released the breathless whimper you'd been holding back causing Peter’s eyes to search your face for any signs of sadness. You knew he could use his wolf senses to tell how you were feeling but he didn't like intruding on your personal emotions.  

As he kissed you shoulder you finally gave in and cupped his face gently before pressing a soft chaste kiss on his lips. His lips were soft yet slightly swollen from all the kisses but you didn't care. 

When you pulled away your eyes searched his to see if any pity was reflected but all you saw was determination, love and the slightest bit of lust.  

“You are beautiful inside and out. And I would not change one thing about you.” He whispered against your lips. 

Your E/C eyes teared up as they stared into the ocean blue ones that were your lover’s. This was the man who had his entire family ripped away from him. The man that went insane and came back from the dead. 

But most of all... 

This was the man you loved. 

“Make love to me.” You whispered brokenly. He gave you a small nod before standing up and moving you further onto the bed. You laid down opening your arms and separating your legs so he could situate between them. 

Once he was within reach you wrapped your arms around him tightly. He leant down at the same time pressing his lips to yours in a slow yet passionate kiss.  

He licked along your bottom lip before pushing his tongue past your lips and twisting it with yours. Unlike most of your kisses this one wasn’t a fight for dominance it was a fight for understanding. His hands caressed your body so desperately yet tenderly it was like it was the last thing he'd ever do. You were panting against his lips as he pulled away slightly, his eyes boring into yours.  

His hand made it to your sex which you knew despite the lack of your usual heavy foreplay was dripping wet. He brushed his middle finger down the centre of it causing you to gasp and him to groan in satisfaction at the wetness he felt. 

When he pushed two fingers into you, you couldn't help the filthy moan that escaped your lips. As his finger began thrusting in and out of your heat.  

The steady string of moans leaving your mouth was causing Peter’s breathing to deepen as he kept his steady pace. He scissored his fingers inside of you gently stretching you out.  

After a few minutes, he pulled out his fingers and slid three in this time. You clung to his shoulders your light pink nails digging into his back as you attempted to ground yourself. When you couldn't take it anymore you clenched around him letting him know you were close. He pulled his fingers out earning himself a whimper from you. 

“Please, Peter...I-I need you inside me.” You pleaded desperately as he let you catch your breath.  

“Okay, my love.” He replied, his voice tender as he caressed your cheek with his other hand. 

He lined himself up with your entrance before giving you a careful look. His eyes stared into your as he pushed inside of you slowly. 

In your younger years before you met Peter, you always found staring into your partner's eyes awkward and uncomfortable but after you fell in love with Peter that changed. Yet suddenly it was no longer awkward but a way to convey your love for the other person. It made you feel closer to Peter than you had anyone in your entire life. And to you that meant something.  

“Peter..” You moaned as your back arched causing your breasts to push against his chest. 

“I've got you, baby.” He whispered as he started moving in and out of your tight heat. His thrusts calculated and slow as his forearm supported his weight next to the right side of your head, his hand entangled in your hair as the other cupped your face gently. 

Every thrust he made had you panting a moaning against his lips. His hot breathe mingling with yours as he finally started letting out husky groans of pleasure.  

Every sound of ecstasy he made only served to push you closer to the edge. Your body pressed so close to his as you cling to him for dear life. 

“P-Peter... ‘M close.” You stuttered against his lips. 

“Me t-too, my love.” He groaned as his eyes flashed blue and his thrust became uncalculated.  

He moved the hand from your cheek between you and proceeded to press a finger to your clit. He barely circled the bundle of nerves twice before you were moaning out his name in release. He thrust a few more times as you clenched around him before he poured his seed inside you. Your name slipping past his lips as he came. 

After a minute he pulled out and moved to the bathroom. He came back with a washcloth and a hairbrush which caused you to chuckle softly, your voice still wrecked from all the moaning. He wiped you down before sitting you up and untying you hair. He brushed through the waves before sitting behind you and concentrating on braiding your hair so it would be wavy for tomorrow as well. 

Once he was done, he pulled you both under the covers able you lay on his chest.  

“I love you.” You mumbled against his right peck before pressing a soft kiss there. 

“I love you too, Y/N.” 

#peter hale #peter #hale #peter hale x reader #peter hale x you #peter x reader #peter x you #teen wolf #tw #teen wolf imagine #imagine #smut #fluff #angst #self harm

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whumpzone · 2 years

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Lost Property - 30

(masterpost)

Previous - Next

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation

In the kitchen, Col was calming down enough to talk between sobs. The two of them were mirroring, knelt on the floor and leaning into each other.

“I’m sorry,” he hiccupped.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” Linden murmured. He hoped Col found it comforting instead of just stressful additional noise.

Lydia’s comment about Colton being the hero in this story had calmed him down enormously. He was still desperate to hear what had happened, but his initial fear had been that Col had lashed out baselessly- something Linden could hardly imagine. His relief allowed him to give Col the time he needed, too. Linden could wait.

“Lydia said you were a hero. That makes me feel proud, Col. Whatever you did must have been for a good reason.”

Colton nodded against Linden’s shoulder. “Y-Yes, Sir, yes, it was, p-p-please, I swear it was.”

“Lydia also said she could tell me what happened, but I’d rather hear it from you, if you’re able to tell me.”

“I’ll, I’ll, I’ll tell you Sir, but please, sh-show me mercy, please. Miss Lydia c-c-can tell you if I’m lying or not.”

“I won’t need to check,” Linden said. “I trust you. I won’t be angry.”

He would much rather hear it from his own Col, than from Lydia. He saw both as equally trustworthy, but this was an opportunity for Col to speak for himself.

He slid a hand down Colton’s arm, slowly rubbing his thumb in circles. Col pushed into it, ever so slightly, and when Linden took a deep breath, Col managed to match it.

“Okay, Sir. I’m ready, I’m ready. It was in the night, when Miss Lydia and I were walking home, a man, uh, he just leapt out and started threatening Miss Lydia with a knife, so I…”

“...you punched him. Wow. That is incredibly brave.”

Col pulled his head away from Linden’s shoulder just enough to flick his eyes up to his face. Checking if he was in mortal trouble or not. The grief on his face didn’t leave, but whatever he saw when he looked at Linden gave him the strength to speak on.

“I punched him in the neck, and then, then I kicked him. And I kicked the knife away. And then we ran.” His eyes fell to the floor, wide but unfocused. He was back down that alley as he spoke, watching the whole scene unfold again. “And I did it all… without being told to. I just did it.”

It wasn’t lost on Linden how much Col was speaking right now. And how honest he was being. Even emphasising his own disobedience- the sin of exercising his free will.

“You acted. I would have been frozen in a situation like that. You knew what to do, and you did it.”

Col bit back a sob and briefly met Linden’s eyes.

“Yes,” he confirmed gravely. “I acted. I’m- I’m so sorry.”

“It was a good thing,” Linden urged. “Col, you saved yourself and Lydia. You really did! You… I am so proud of you. What did Lydia say after it?”

She better have praised you from dusk until dawn, he thought. His pride was suddenly diluted by the knowledge that Linden hadn’t been there to say all of this in the moment.

“She gave me a bar of chocolate, Sir,” Col said, still just as somberly. Linden couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“That’s…good.”

“A-And she put my head in her lap, and let me cry, and she, uh, she promised not to tell you.”

A spark of indignation flared up, but Linden quashed it immediately. He could see this from Col’s perspective.

“I understand that. In that situation, you did the right thing, and you kept Lydia safe. But I know that you would never have been allowed to punch someone, before.” That’s putting it lightly. “I’m happy I know about it now. I can tell you, right here in person, that I’m not angry. And, god Col, I’d never put you down. You mustn’t think that. You mustn’t ever think I’d do such a thing.”

“Thank you, Sir, you are so forgiving, I can’t even s-say how grateful I am.”

Quiet settled on them again as they both processed uncountable emotions. It was Linden, as always, who broke the silence after a few minutes.

“You mean so much to me, Col. We’re in this together. You’re brave and smart and very, very important. Thank you so much for telling me this in your own words. I’m proud of you for what you did. Can you repeat that back to me?”

“You’re proud of your pet, Sir.”

“Okay,” Linden made sure not to sigh. “Shall we go and see the others?”

After some time, Linden and Col walked together into the living room. Col kept to a respectful half-step behind his owner, his head lowered, but there was visibly less tension in his shoulders. When he cautiously glanced up at Lydia, there was a new spark in his red-rimmed eyes.

Linden also looked wrung out, but the smile he gave Lydia and Cory was open and bright.

“Now,” he said, “Would the two of you like some tea?”

A short while later Lydia was sitting in one of the armchairs, one leg draped over the other, cradling a cup of what Linden (truthfully, she thought) had called his ‘good tea’.

Cory was kneeling next to her chair and - watching him - Col had knelt down on the floor on the opposite side of the table. That earned him a slightly worried look from Linden. Still, the raven-haired man had not made any comment. He’d just handed out pillows to both of the pets and taken his own place on the sofa.

Both Lydia and Linden took pains in keeping the conversation light, first chatting about the rewards and tribulations of travelling. After Lydia had mentioned her bookshop they discovered, with genuine delight, some common literary interests.

Lydia noticed suddenly that Coriander was swaying where he knelt next to her, intermittently nodding off and then straightening up again.

“Hey love,” she’d said, reaching out and petting her hand over his blonde locks in an easily affectionate caress, “you look absolutely beat. Perhaps you’d like to go to bed?” She looked across the table at Col. “You look pretty done in too.” She gave both pets a reassuring smile, to emphasise that she didn’t mean it as criticism. “It has been a long day today so it’s no wonder that you are tired out.”

”I’m actually not that sleepy yet.” She sought Linden’s gaze as she continued, carefully keeping her tone light. “And I brought some wine. What do you think, perhaps we should send these guys off to bed and have a glass?”

“Send them off to bed?” Linden queried, matching her upbeat voice. “Like naughty children?”

“They just look awfully spent, and I can’t really blame them.”

“Col,” Linden asked, leaning down and addressing him directly. “If you’d like to head on to bed, please feel free. It’s been a long day. But if you’re not tired, then stay up as long as you’d like.”

Col’s eyes momentarily snapped between Linden and Lydia. “I am quite tired, Sir. If I may…?”

“Of course. I hope you sleep well, sweet. How about you, Cory?”

“Yes, this pet is ready for bed, sir,” Cory replied, rising to his feet and giving them both a smooth smile. Col followed a few seconds after, pushing himself up and balancing steadily on the carpet.

“There you go.” Miss Lydia had said, standing in the doorway. “Snug as a bug in a rug, the two of you.” She’d smiled. “Sleep tight.”

“Good night,” Linden had added, before turning off the light. “If either of you need anything, we’ll be just downstairs.”

Then, he’d closed the door. If Cory listened closely, the pet could hear the hum of their conversation in the living room, too faint to make out any words, but a reassuring presence all the same.

The darkened room and the view from the window looked different from this angle. Cory was lying on a mattress on the floor next to the newly made-up bed where Col was a silent presence.

Linden had discreetly - but not discreetly enough to avoid Coriander’s sharp attention - asked Col if he was all right with Cory sharing his room, and the larger pet had of course assented. Coriander wondered what the pet really thought.

Was he resentful at having to share his room for the night? How did he feel about Cory spending several days alone with his master? Was he indifferent or uncomfortable with the situation?

Coriander decided to break the ice.

“T-thank you for helping Miss Lydia.”

Col frowned, as if he didn’t like thinking about it, but then he nodded curtly, without saying anything.

“Y-your Master has been very kind.” That felt like a safer topic, with the added benefit of being true. “M-much kinder than this pet deserves.”

Col lay silent for a couple of heartbeats, then he turned to lie on his side towards Cory.

“Your Mistress has been very kind, too.” He said. “She let me do the things she was planning to do with you. She must treat you very well.”

Cory couldn’t hear any jealousy or bitterness in Colton’s voice. It sounded like a simple statement, and Cory nodded.

“Yeah,” it agreed. “She does.”

“I’m happy my Master was good to you,” Col mused, “But I knew he would be.”

Cory considered this. “This pet knew Miss Lydia would be good to you, too. B-but you are so quiet, and so well-behaved. She would have had no reason to get annoyed.”

In the dim moonlight, Cory saw the way Col’s eyebrows furrowed. Not in anger, just innocent confusion. “No, I’m a terrible pet. I’ve never managed to learn how to be good like you.”

Now it was Cory’s turn to be confused. “Like me? Not at all.”

“But you are so pretty, and polite, and, a-and, so graceful.”

“No, this pet is nothing but annoying and presumptuous. T-this pet spent all its time here being way too loud and-” Cory stopped itself before it could divulge how it’d woken up Colton’s Master with an ugly screaming nightmare.

“You’re not!” Col said urgently, then bit his tongue. “Unless, if that is what your Mistress says, then…”

“She doesn’t say that,” Cory said reluctantly, and Col exhaled in a little huff.

“You are so good, Cory.”

The name sounded nice in Col’s voice. Cory could see the way Col’s mouth had turned down in sadness. This time, there was a twinge of bitterness to his words.

“This pet has made plenty of mistakes, i-it promises. And been owned by several different humans. I-it was never good enough for them, eventually. It is trying to be good enough for Miss Lydia.”

Col sat up a little, propping himself up on one elbow. His timid voice was so at odds with his tall frame that Cory felt itself forgetting about their size differences.

“I had a past owner. Then I was homeless for a bit, until Master took me in. I’m trying to be good enough, too.”

Col reached his free hand out, over the edge of the bed towards Cory, until his palm hung outstretched in the air. Cory smiled, understanding, and reached its own hand up until the two met.

Though he was undoubtedly stronger, there was none of that strength in the way Col let his fingers close around Cory’s. The two held hands for only a few seconds, but it was enough to get across what neither of them could say with words. It was Col that let go first.

Cory looked up into the ceiling with a little smile.

taglist part 1:

@cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

#lost property #linden and colton #pet whump #we're soooo close to the ending! eep!

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ellekhen · 3 months

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Hand, Hearth, and Home

Chapter 32 - Please Don't Forget Me

Chapter Summary: Church confronts their guardian.

Pairing(s): Astarion x Male Tav (Main); Past OC x Male Tav Rating: Explicit Length: 135K+ words; Chapters 32/54

Excerpt below:

“They don’t know me like you do,” Tavi insists. “And so yes — I wore different faces to earn their trust.”

“Of course you did,” Church laughs, harshly. “So how do I know you’re not someone pretending to be my Tavi?”

“Perhaps you won’t,” Tavi says defeatedly. “But you can detect thoughts, can’t you? Read mine — or even just connect with my parasite. Look into my soul.” His voice breaks. “I’ll put up no resistance, I swear. See for yourself and decide.”

Church studies him warily. The man seems to be losing his composure, his eyes pleading. And so the warlock hesitates before focusing the Weave upon their guardian, peering into his mind.

He’s a small boy pushing through the crowd, scrambling to see what all the fuss is about. As he squeezes past the bell ringer, he can’t believe his eyes — it’s like something out of Pa’s books.

A small, gray devil — an imp, maybe — trembles as he struggles to support his own weight. Flanking him are two of the older village girls — the innkeeper’s daughter and her friend. They are arguing viciously with a red-faced Rupert, the guards, and… oh no…

“Pa?” the boy calls tentatively into the hubbub. The blacksmith doesn’t answer him. He’s too busy gesturing at the imp, spittle flying from his mouth. Tavi’s never seen his pa this angry…

The imp struggles to limp forward, and the crowd gasps and murmurs as Lydia immediately moves to support him as he sways in place.

“I would like to see your healer!” the imp says in a surprisingly loud, articulate voice. He sounds like an actual boy, not a monster.

Tavi watches in terrified trepidation as his father advances upon the children. Then, the back of his calloused hand strikes the imp across the face, knocking him flat to the ground. The girls scream shrilly while a whole chorus of protests and harsh words rise up both in support and against the blacksmith. In the chaos, Tavi watches as the imp raises his head, squinting dazedly at the crowd around him.

The boy gasps. The imp’s gaze is made up of two bright yellow dots glowing from within large, inky black eyes. They lock onto Tavi’s for the briefest moment.

And then the imp disappears in a burst of blue mist, and the crowd cries out in panic. Tavi hears a soft poof behind him, and he wheels around just in time to see the imp stumble out of thin air with another burst of mist. He collapses onto the ground, and the strangled, animalic cry of pain he lets out haunts Tavi’s dreams for days after the imp disappears from the village.

Church can feel Tavi begin to pull his mind away, but the warlock chases after it, clawing hungrily at foreign memories that are still so, so familiar.

…and then one day, Tavi sees him again.

He spots the imp cowering where he must think he’s hidden safely behind a standing stone.

“You there!” the blacksmith’s son cries out shrilly, pointing his broom threateningly at the shadow. “Thou fiend!”

The imp peers out, a reproachful and… annoyed look upon his face.

“Where’s Lydia?” the creature calls warily.

“Lydia…?” Tavi scowls. “The drunk’s girl?”

“No!” the boy insists. “Lydia. The… Lydia.”

“Well… she’s not here!” Tavi stands as tall and proud as he can. “You won’t take her soul today, fiend, nor mine!”

“Don’t call me that!” the boy snaps. “I don’t want your souls anyway!”

Tavi glares at the shadow, shifting from foot to foot with uncertainty.

“Then what do you want?”

The boy is silent for just a moment, before cautiously emerging from the shadow of the standing stone, his tail twitching nervously close to his legs. He warily flicks those eerie, glowing eyes up at Tavi.

“…a friend, maybe?” the imp ventures.

Tavi’s broom dips in surprise.

The strange boy looks back down at his dirty feet.

“Well…” Tavi looks around nervously, hoping his pa hasn’t also had the whim to visit his mother out here in the graveyard. “…then why didn’t you say so?”

The boy looks back up, and his eyes, oh his eyes…

They shine like the sun.

Church gasps as he surfaces from the memory, gazing up at the man who seems to be steadying himself as well.

“Is that… good enough… for you?” Tavi pants, bracing himself against the ruins.

Church steps towards him, breath shaking.

“Show me another one,” he beseeches him.

Read from the beginning!

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hannahacked-blog · 4 months

Text

Teen wolf the movie 2 expectations (and the greatest one is there's not gonna be a movie)

Eli's mother will be revealed and as my friend said "traditionally Derek gets knocked up by some super evil b—" and will try to earn Scott's trust to kill him (yeah, scott, DEREK JUST DIED but make it all about yourself, sure)

Hopefully they'll at leat strain their asses to photoshop texts from Stiles?? I don't think "yeah, no, let's no bother him" will work AGAIN.

Also, saw a point about Eli becoming an Aplha after Derek's death which is not going to happen in my opinion bc Cora is alive SO maybe she'll be back to comfort Eli?? (Instead of leaving him with Scallison bc do we really think they're ready for it? Like Allison saw him once and decided to teach him how to sharpen pencils, the skill they pass down from generation to generation? Don't think so)

As for Lydia, am i the only one feeling the vibe that she's just too damn hot for ANYONE? Only me? Okay. Nevertheless, working on sound-energy-whatever-stuff and presumably not using her powers whatsoever? Sounds not too smart. I want more. I want to see her wearing goggles all mad scientist style. I want to see her doing experiments. I want her badass again. It's like she's back to Lydia season 1 now idk...

But who's the main villian? Because they're a lot of people whose DeAd BoDiEs have never been shown. I'm not gonna assume it is Jennifer bc derek is... Yk...💀...at this point I've totally forgotten this nogitsune attack was a part of a big evil plan by a big evil guy (please don't be Kate, please dont be Kate) Sooo, Paige maybe? I mean it'd be quite unexpected.

#teen wolf #teen wolf the movie #expectations #or threats?? Idk

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the-fangirl-diaries · 1 year

Text

132 Thoughts I Had While Watching: The School For Good and Evil (2022)

Jesper, what are you doing here, and why is there two of you?

And where is your accent?

One of you is evil and one is goo - oh, the title makes sense now.

“I prefer chaos.” I mean we all love a bit, buddy, but you’re going too far.

And bad guy fell off a cliff and died a tragic death, the end.

Look at this ballroom.

CATE BLANCHETT IS THE NARRATOR? I LOVE THIS ALREADY.

Hey, it’s Lydia from Beetlejuice!

That cottage is so pretty, I wanna live there so bad.

Agatha makes me feel so much more confident with my Merida hair.

She has a cat named Reaper, and lives by a graveyard? That’s adorable.

“Hey, Ugly.” Dude, have you looked in a mirror?

Deville’s? Like Cruella Deville?

I love how people can call this girl a witch while she pets a baby goat.

It’s spelt Deuville? Why does that look prettier?

Wait, Cinderella exists in this universe?

“It’s a place that cannot be found, except by those who know where it is.”

“I want much more than this provincial life,” ~ Sophie, definitely.

You’re going out into the woods late at night? Are you crazy?!

Yep, girl is delulu. (That’s apparently a word now.)

That bird kinda gives me Alice in Wonderland vibes.

Wait, they got the schools mixed up? Princess and the Pauper, anyone?

How To Lose a Girl in Five Seconds: Tell her her hair looks like cake.

So this is basically Descendants?

“It’s cleaner than my own hand, trust me.” ~ an actual quote.

Okay, but why does the Never school look cooler?

The Groom Room? Oh, I get it you groom yourself to look pretty.

AHH, THEY’RE PLAYING SLEEPING BEAUTY MUSIC!!!!!

You know, I don’t blame Agatha, some clothes can be itchy.

I thought Hort would be Diaval’s son. Not Captain Hook’s.

If you don’t know who that is, go watch Maleficent, please.

Sword and dance routine? Get it? Instead of song and -- nevermind.

“The brave prince charming approaches!” ~ Sophie, maybe

Actually, he’s King Arthur’s son.

Yep, this is basically Descendants.

Fire for the fire god.

Agatha, you need some confidence.

Laurence Fishburne? I swear you’re EVERYWHERE.

“Cool, I get a whole room to myself.” ~ Agatha, maybe.

We even have the daughter of the Sheriff of Nottingham??

Agatha, you should have known the statues would come to life.

Wait, I thought Evil Jesper was dead?

Oh, it’s some weird hallucination thingy.

There’s evil and there’s threatening to drop someone from a building.

Learn to tell the difference.

Find the school master and plead their case, yup sounds SUPER easy.

“You know we can hear you narrating, you weirdo!” ~ An actual quote.

The narrator is a pen?

True love’s kiss can break the spell.

I LOVE THE SONGS IN THIS!!!

There’s an ugly class and beauty class?

You fail if no one asks you to the ball? Guess that counts me out.

Hold on, is that Michelle Yeoh? THIS CAST IS AWESOME!

Gregor Charming is kinda cute.

Poor guy is queasy around blood? I mean.... same.

Why’s Sophie’s vanity kind of annoying?

There’re people living in the trees!

See? Tedros loves to hear her talk about cats?

Did he say “open the effing door?” or am I going crazy.

Gregor, you need a dash of good luck.

Gnome humour is funny, guys, admit it!

Gregor, NO!!!!!!!!!!! You were the only character I liked in this movie.

Hort grew one chest hair in magic class. Good for you, buddy.

HOLY -- THIS GIRL CAN MAKE HER DRAGON TATTOO COME ALIVE!

IT’S ACTUALLY COMING OUT OF HER SHOULDER!

Girl is wacko!

Oh, but Evil Jesper comes in surrounded by bees to save the day.

“Sophie, you’re not allowed to kill anyone until after graduation.”

Bees are my greatest fear, so uh, I’d be outta there in ten milleseconds.

This centuries old guy is weirdly into Sophie and I’m not sure I like that.

Wish Fish? It sounds cool, but I don’t trust it for some reason.

I kinda want the mean girls to fail. I know that’s not nice, but.....

Agatha wishes for hope and a person comes out of the lake?

It’s because of a girl that all the wishes are granted?

IT’S GREGOR, EVERYONE! HE’S THE BIRD -- AND HE’S DEAD.

Professor, she just saw her friend die, that’s what’s wrong with her!

Bad professor cut Sophie’s hair? I mean, not the worst that could happen.

Girl, calm down. At least you aren’t dead.

Rafal, dude, you gotta chill, friend. (Yeah, that’s Evil Jesper’s name)

She wants to kiss Tedros, but I think he likes Agatha.

Gonna admit, that dip was smooth.

A finger glow? A finger prick? LIKE SLEEPING BEAUTY!

Looks like it hurts. I’ll skip, thanks.

Sophie looks good with the glow up not gonna lie

YOU SHOULD SEE ME IN A CROWN!?

GUYS, GO LISTEN TO THIS SOUNDTRACK RIGHT NOW!

Sophie, Tedros is Aggie’s man. You’ve got golden retriever boy.

DARK HAIR, WHITE SHIRT, BLACK PANTS? THE DEADLY COMBO!

Aggie used her power to help her friend. She deserves better.

Everybody Loves Tedros, except for the other Nevers.

An Ever and a Never together? OH, THE HORROR!

Hold on, why are they all mad? Wouldn’t this unite the schools?

Never heard of a trial by tail before, or is it tale?

The trial begins at sundown instead of midnight? Nice switch.

Sending them into the forbidden forest? M’kay.

DO NOT THE FLOWERS!

“With the power of the finger glow, I save you!” ~ Tedros, maybe.

Is that a mace-wielding pumpkin-headed grim reaper?

The princess is going to save the prince? Interesting twist!

Pumpkin man just exploded. That’s gonna be messy!

Agatha saved them and this is the thanks she gets?

Agatha is the only one with any sense around here.

She wrote Sophie a letter, too. :’(

PLEASE TELL ME RAFAL DOESN’T KISS SOPHIE!

He’s centuries old and she’s seventeen at the oldest.

Rafal and the Evil Professor were a thing?

Agatha is the most devoted friend in the world.

I turned my back for one second and Sophie’s a witch???

Honey, we’ve all experienced heartbreak, but this is too much.

The Never Ball looks cool, to be honest.

I’m sorry, Sophie, I can’t take you seriously right now.

Okay, she changed back, but now she’s crazy.

You attacked them first.

A COVER OF TOXIC DURING A BATTLE SCENE??

Have I mentioned this soundtrack is freaking epic?!

This is the best scene in the whole movie.

Since when does Sophie have shape-shifting powers?

LAURENCE FISHBURN IS RAFAL?

Oh, he just shapeshifted into him after murdering him.

That’s where you’re wrong, my guy. I’m chaos!

Wait, he kissed Sophie?? I should have seen it coming but...

“My love?” Dude, what? SHE’S LIKE.... Seventeen, right??

AGATHA’S HERE TO SAVE THE DAY!

I TURNED AWAY FOR FIVE MINUTES AND SOPHIE’S INJURED.

THEY SAID THEY LOVE EACH OTHER!!!!!

TRUE LOVE’S KISS.

I’M NOT CRYING, YOU ARE!!!!

THE PROFESSORS ARE SO IN LOVE AND I’M HERE FOR IT!

Tedros and Aggie are separating??? Nooooo!

Well at least she and Sophie will be together.

It says they’re siblings in the book. DARN IT!!!!!

THERE ARE GONNA BE MORE MOVIES, THOUGH!!!

Staying for the ending credits visual and songs.

#the school for good and evil #I've been wanting to cross it off my list for AGES #this was super fun #sophie x agatha #I shipped the main girls so bad #that battle scene though

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naturesrat · 1 year

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teen wolf?

thank you so much. i was just struck by the urge 'wow i want to go watch teen wolf' but i can't so im going to talk about it online instead. thiank you to katie as well but josephine beat you to the punch.

Favourite male character: ignoring stiles because. how can he not be your favourite character, i think this has to go to... sheriff stilinski?? i feel like the parents in so many teen shows can be done so poorly but their inclusion always feels Meaningful and Useful here, his concern for stiles always feels very real and i think the show writers have done a great job with him and scotts mother.

Favourite female character: Lydia :] i love a girlie who is fucked up and haunted. really looking forward to the conclusion of her arc in this where she didn't quite trust herself after finding where stiles was in his MIND but not in real life. real hot girl shit is being attuned to a higher plane of being and having a gift to find dead bodies!!!!

Least favourite character: tbh skipping this one cause i don't feel like being a hater rn. ask me later. i'll say kali her feet gross me out.

Favourite ship: oh shittt im not a big shipper for this show so its hard. top ten messages to get me shot but i Really hope stiles and malia get a little bit of development together. maybe it was just being locked together in the basement of a super unethical mental asylum and making out and sacrificing yourself to the devil but something about that is compelling me right now.

Favourite friendship: Scott and Stiles. this show is at this absolute STRONGEST when dealing with the relationship between this two. i am once again thinking about the hotel episode but also... any other point in time where they're supporting each other? the lacrosse at the beginning? i also really love when we see how dedicated scott is to stiles, because i feel like we get it less frequently but i wanna see them hug. please.

Favourite Quote: the hotgirl moment. also "I like guys, do you?" [dead silence then makeout to avoid coming out as bi]

Happy moment: Obviously the trepanning threat scene. any moment where stiles is being Scary right now. or high humour heavy teen moments (like when scott got a boner in the closet)

Saddest moment: idk not there mentally

Favourite Location: dereks weird industrial penthouse?? it has chill vibes but also bro what the fuck.

#THANK YOU JOSIE.

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kitkatwinchester · 1 year

Text

THIS IS THE WORST!!!

IT'S LITERALLY ALL IN HIS HEAD AND I HATE IT!!

Like.

I knew this already, because I know too much about the rest of the season, so this isn't, like, some revelation, but that almost makes it WORSE, because EVEN THOUGH I'M EXPECTING IT, seeing it, and how much it hurts Stiles, and how much it's affecting him, and how much it's confusing and hurting those around him...I CAN'T!

I mean...

One of the things Stiles has always had going for him is his mind. His wit, his smarts, his observance, his ability to plan...ALL OF THAT comes from how smart he is. He has always been the brains to Scott's brawn, the planner to Scott's man of action, and the one that anyone in the pack could count on to solve the case.

And to see him slowly losing that...and how much it's BREAKING HIM to RECOGNIZE that he can't even trust his own mind anymore...

I HATE IT!!

I HATE IT SO FREAKING MUCH!!!

MY POOR BABY!!!

That said...

Rafael's redemption arc begins, because I have never been as grateful for this man as I am right now. THANK YOU for being the fill-in for Stiles in thinking of the thing that nobody else thought of, because who knows what would've happened if you hadn't.

And Melissa, you know I love you and your comfort, but Stiles is SO FAR past okay right now. Like, no, he's really not okay, no matter how much you say it.

And OMG POOR LYDIA!! Lydia YOU WERE RIGHT!! There was SOMETHING there. You just didn't look hard enough. TRUST YOUR GUT, GIRL!! ...except that the one person who gives her enough confidence to trust herself ISN'T THERE because he's too busy trying to decide if he should trust himself. (Though as a very brief aside, the way Aiden pulls her close to him and tries to comfort her as best he can is still really sweet.) YOU WERE RIGHT, LYDIA!! REMEMBER WHAT STILES SAID TO YOU?! You're ALWAYS RIGHT! And that DOESN'T STOP NOW!! Please figure it out. Please, Lydia. We need you. Have faith in yourself, please. (Also I feel bad that Noah yelled at her, but I also feel bad for Noah, because I totally get it, and he felt really guilty after he lashed out, but he's just SO SCARED for Stiles, and this whole thing is SO messed up, and I HATE IT.)

And Allison's phone was off? And there's random Japanese in her voice messages? Yeah THAT'S NOT SUSPICIOUS AT ALL!

I F*CKING HATE THIS!!!

Like, I love storylines where there's a mole in the group (Season 2 of Stranger Things, anyone?), because I always love how much the rest of the group will do to bring the true group member (or, in this case, pack member) back home, and I love seeing how much they love and care about each other and all of the comfort we get with that.

But I HATE the hurt and whump and betrayals and anxiety and emotions and PAIN that comes with that.

I HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS FOR SIX MORE EPISODES??!!

ARE YOU F*CKING KIDDING ME?! *cries*

Also Stiles is going to the hospital, which means I KNOW what Sciles scene comes next, and after all I've been dealing with in the REST of this episode, there is absolutely no way that I don't start flat out SOBBING during that hospital scene.

There is no way.

Strong chance that purely due to context with the rest of the episode, that hospital scene might outdo the panic attack scene, because *screams*.

Anyways....

Here's an adorable Stydia gif because I need something to cheer me up when I'm this close to tears (and I know the Sciles hospital gif is gonna be on the next post). <3

(SERIOUSLY WHEN DO THEY BECOME OFFICIAL?! HOW LONG IS IT GONNA MAKE ME WAIT?!)

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teenwolffan-with-nolife · 2 years

Note

a story where the reader is really powerful but shy and really nice but then they find out that the pack was using they for something by overhearing the pack talk abt them!

English is not my first language take ur time<33

hey! thanks for requesting!

You wiped your tears of anger as you slammed your door, locking it behind you as you took a deep breath.

What else could you expect?

No one cares like this

You began to gather your belongings, packing your bag to get ready to leave.

You could feel the fear and panic racing to your chest, your breathing labored as you ran your fingers through your hair.

You heard someone banging on the door, jumping slightly.

"(Y/N), it's us," you heard Stiles' voice on the other side as you ignored it, continuing to gather your stuff, trying to push down your tears.

You shook your head, feeling your chest aching before hearing the door being pushed open, Scott and Stiles standing in front of you.

"Leave me alone," your voice was barely above a whisper.

"We saw you at my house... just give us a chance to explain," Scott's voice was delicate as you shook your head, stepping back.

"(Y/N)-"

"Stop talking," your voice was shaky as you let out a small cry.

"I trusted... I trusted both of you, and you just used me? L-Like I was nothing? How could you? After everything I told you, you betrayed me," you couldn't hold back your cries, you began to breathe heavily, feeling the air escaping you.

"You need to know the full story, just listen to us for a minute, please," Stiles begged.

"So you can tell me more lies?" you scoffed, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"(Y/N)," Stiles took a step forward.

"I said leave me alone," your eyes flashed a dark gray, you couldn't control it.

Stiles and Scott were pushed back, you gasped as you saw Stiles' head hit the wall, Scott rushing to him.

More and more tears rushed down your face as you instantly cried.

"I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..." your breathing was shaky as you heard Scott call out to Stiles, shaking him.

"That wasn't supposed to happen," you cried softly.

You could see tears in Scott's eyes as you looked between him and Stiles.

"(Y/N)," Scott's voice sounded broken as you inhaled shakily.

"I'm going," you ran out of your apartment, hearing Scott yelling for you to stop.

You couldn't bring yourself to look back, you knew you had to get out of there. You trusted them, they lied to you and used you. Even if you cared about them, you couldn't turn back, or they would hurt you all over again.

You threw your bag into your car, seeing Lydia pull into the parking lot as you stepped on the accelerator, speeding out as quickly as you could.

Taglist:

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@katherinepetrovawife

#teen wolf #teen wolf angst #teen wolf fics #derek hale imagine #teen wolf text #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagines #scott mccall angst #scott mcall imagine #scott mcall #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinkski #stiles stilinski angst

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usermischief · 2 years

Text

no place for promises

chapter 49: Waking Nightmares Warnings: blood You can read it on AO3 as well.

---

“Stiles,” Scott’s voice is soft, so much softer than he’s ever heard him talk before, “I know… I know this is extreme, but…” But? But what? What could possibly explain killing Theo?

The person he loves.

Fuck.

Stiles clenches his jaw. This— he's never felt like this before, not with Lydia, and especially not with Malia, and now… no. He won't think like that. He cannot think like that. Theo is going to be okay. He has to be fine. There's no other way.

And to think that not too long ago, Stiles hated Theo. Now, not having him at his side is the worst thing that could happen to him.

But Theo’s spark is barely a whisper. Stiles can only sense it because he's clinging to every sign of life. He can also feel him dying ever so slowly. There’s nothing he can do. Stiles can’t fix this. There’s a reason Scott asked Deucalion to do it. The wound of an average alpha heals slowly, and Theo isn’t a full werewolf. No matter how much energy the Telluric currents offer him, there’s nothing Stiles can do. What good is it to have the power of the nemeton when he can’t even save the person he loves? And he can’t even take his pain because he doesn’t feel any — and he knows exactly what that means. There’s nothing to latch on to. Nothing to help fix it.

“Theo?” Stiles brushes a hand over his cheek.

For a moment, Theo’s eyelids flutter. Almost as if he can hear him. Almost as if he’s about to wake up.

“Proszę, błagam cię*,” Stiles whispers, cupping Theo’s cheeks with both hands, and presses their foreheads together. “Kochanie, wake up. I’m begging you, open your eyes. Zrób to dla mnie*, Theo. Please.” But Theo doesn’t open his eyes. Theo doesn’t move. His spark is so fucking quiet. Stiles can feel Theo slipping away from him.

Scott approaches him slowly and crouches down. “You’ll understand eventually,” he says, placing a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

"Don't fucking touch me," Stiles spits, pulling away as far as he can with Theo in his arms. The touch is repulsive and wrong. Stiles can’t stand it. The hand vanishes from his shoulder, and it’s better that way. Otherwise, Stiles might be tempted to cut off his fucking hand. He grinds his teeth, feeling rage seep through the cracks. Theo’s dying in his arms. Stiles doesn’t understand what Scott was thinking. How did he even know they would be here? It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

Least of all, Theo dying.

“Stiles,” Scott says quietly, every word fueling something deep inside of Stiles. “This is for the best. Trust me.”

“Trust you?” Stiles snaps, whipping his head around to stare at Scott. “Give me one good reason why I should trust you after everything you’ve done.” Scott couldn’t possibly think killing Theo would get Stiles to come crawling back to him, could he? Too much has happened between them already, too much that couldn’t be fixed. But this? This is the last nail in the coffin. Scott can count himself lucky if he walks out of this tunnel alive after what he just did.

“I did this for you.”

Just that he didn’t do shit. Scott honestly thought something this drastic could fix their relationship. Yet he left to find Deucalion because he still puts his fucking True Alpha spark above everything and everyone. Swallowing, Stiles looks down at Theo, the blood on his face and chest, the wound that isn’t healing. Theo is going to die because Scott is a coward, a pathetic alpha who can’t possibly entertain the idea of being in the wrong. True Alpha, he doesn’t fucking deserve that title. He doesn’t—

Stiles stiffens, eyes widening as Theo’s spark flickers, desperately trying to cling to life itself.

Scott doesn’t deserve that spark because it doesn’t belong to him.

“No,” Stiles whispers, gently laying Theo down, “you did this for yourself.” And it’s not even that he blames Scott for wanting revenge. Theo beat him. Theo killed him. Stiles knows the feeling. All consuming. Terrifying. Stiles felt it before. He feels it now. More than he’s ever felt it before.He blames Scott for his actions, for wanting to kill Theo and asking Deucalion to do it for him. He blames Scott for always thinking everything is going to be okay. “This is all about you.” Stiles presses his lips to Theo’s forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. A strange stillness settles over him. It’s gonna be okay. Theo is going to be just fine. Better than fine.

They’re going to fix him.

Stiles rises to his feet, rage burning deep in his body. It feels old and so very, very new at the same time. It's strange, yet one that couldn’t be more comforting — almost as if someone took his hand and promised everything would be just fine. Someone he trusted with his life. Stiles couldn’t tell when his feelings regarding the powers and their respective owners inside of him changed, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. It doesn’t matter either. He can sense them, enraged, overprotective, waiting for his very command; two snakes ready to strike.

“You don’t care about me or my feelings.” Stiles studies the blood on his hands, then curls both into fists. His knuckles turn white, blunt nails digging into his palms. “You lost your pack, and instead of taking accountability, you’re lashing out like the child you are.” His voice is steady and calm, not giving away the storm deep inside him.

Scott gets to his feet as well, furrowing his brows. He looks genuinely confused, and that pisses Stiles off even more. For someone so willing to believe Stiles a murderer, he shouldn’t be surprised when it turns out to be true. Not that Stiles plans on killing him. He wouldn’t do that to Melissa. Besides, it’s the spark he needs. Scott lost his pack, and now Stiles will take away the one thing Scott has never been willing to sacrifice. When Stiles steps toward Scott, his former best friend takes a step away from him. Something flickers over his expression, and Stiles wonders what he sees. Perhaps he finally realizes what’s about to happen.

There’s no satisfaction watching Scott back away. It only reminds him of the night in front of Deaton’s clinic when Scott was afraid of him — afraid of his supposed best friend who saved his ass on multiple occasions.

Stiles is going to give him a reason to be fucking afraid.

His anger becomes almost painful, and he forces himself to take a deep breath. Not yet. Not yet. “You always think you’re doing shit for other people, but you’re not. You’d never do anything that could risk your alpha status.” Stiles can feel his anger throbbing and shifting, can feel his powers getting more and more powerful in the back of his mind. It’s been there before, and it used to terrify him so much. But not now. He welcomes it and revels in the feeling of not being alone with this overwhelming amount of anger, fear, and despair. “You know what it feels to be a nobody, and you’re so afraid to become one again, that you let Hayden die instead of trying to save her life.” Something deep inside him stirs and shifts, latches onto his rage, and he is doing nothing to stop it. The rage he’s been so afraid of, he lets it consume him because it’s something familiar. Because it turns out that the nogitsune and the nemeton are both on his side — and they are angry. The nemeton especially.

“You believed Theo, you brought him back here—“ Stiles points at Deucalion, who keeps watching them in silence, one hand coated in Theo’s blood. It’s going to be coated in his own very soon. Stiles will make sure of that. “Despite everything he’s done to the Hale pack. But that’s fine, isn’t it? Because he’s kissing your ass now.” His muscles ache with something almost impossible to contain. He can feel his pulse quicken, blood rushing in his ears. “So, everything’s cool, right? It doesn’t matter to you.” His rage grows stronger, and it feels old, so fucking old. Stiles knows it’s not just him alone. There’s something else full of anger inside of him. It’s not the fox. It’s the nemeton, enraged that its power has been stolen, used, and tainted.

Deucalion chuckles. The sound echoes through the tunnels. It’s too loud. It’s wrong. “I thought your friend is merely human, Scott.” His tone is amicable, almost like he’s talking to an old buddy instead of a person he tried to recruit and turn into his puppet.

“I’m not his friend,” Stiles hisses, and it probably says something that he's only correcting this part of the statement. Then again, it is the part that matters. Stiles isn’t human anymore. He hasn’t been since the nogitsune was done with him.

Scott stares at Stiles, then the ground, but he doesn’t say anything.

Deucalion raises a brow. “There is nothing human left of him.”

Although he is aware that he hasn’t been human since the nogitsune ruined his life, Stiles didn’t miss the way he said it. Deucalion didn’t make a statement about him being supernatural. This feels like a dig at him — because of what Stiles said to Scott, what feels like forever ago. Some of us are human. It wouldn’t be surprising if Scott told Deucalion everything about that. He’s always been too trusting. He never bothered to look past any friendliness directed at him because how could someone possibly mean something bad if he’s oh-so-nice, right? He should’ve learned his lesson with Theo, yet, he’s letting Deucalion back in. Not just into his life, no, Scott also dragged Deucalion into a territory that isn’t his. “You’re not wanted here.”

“Scott invited me.”

“Scott’s word has no meaning here,” Stiles replies, raising a brow. “You were not invited by the owner of this territory, and I think you know what trespassing on another pack’s territory means, don’t you?” There’s an edge of worry in Deucalion’s features, but Stiles doesn’t have the time to worry about him right now — he’s let himself be distracted for too long. “That’s enough of you.” Stiles lifts his hand, and the nemeton follows his command. Heat courses through his body, accompanied by a type of power he has never felt before. Not like this, at least. But he doesn’t care. Not even when the ground under his feet starts to rumble. “I’ll deal with you later,” Stiles smirks, tipping his head to the side. The ground cracks open. Thick roots shoot out from the rubble, wrapping around Deucalion’s legs and arms, torso, and throat, covering his mouth. They drag him down, pin him down between rubble and dust. If they just so happen to break a few bones, Stiles isn’t going to complain. If there was any chance Theo’s body would accept the spark of a real werewolf, Stiles would’ve ripped it out of Deucalion long ago. But it’s not worth the risk. Scott’s spark, however, works on the nemeton’s power. Theo’s body will have no issue accepting that.

Scott whips his head around. “What did you do?!"

Stiles cuts his gaze back to him, narrowing his eyes. “Something I should’ve done long ago.” Before Scott can react, Stiles grabs him by the throat and pins him against the wall of pipes behind him. “Everything you did,” he whispers, stepping closer until their bodies are almost aligned, “everyone you hurt… all of that for something that isn’t rightfully yours.” His grip around Scott’s throat tightens, and Stiles grins as his mouth falls open, eyes flickering red. Now, Scott finally has a real reason to be afraid of him. “We were used by your confidant,” he whispers, and the spark vibrates underneath his fingertips. “We were deceived by someone we trusted. This power—“ Stiles relaxes into the touch, into the sensation of Scott’s spark bowing to his command “— it does not belong to you.”

Hands curl around his arm. Under different circumstances, Scott would have no problem overpowering him. But tonight is different. Tonight he’s not acting alone.

And that’s perfectly fine.

“Stiles,” Scott chokes, panic causing his eyes to widen, “please.”

Stiles closes his own for a moment and takes a deep breath, focusing on Theo’s spark. It’s so much weaker than only a few minutes ago. He’s dying, but he’s not dead yet. There’s still a chance. Stiles opens his eyes again and shakes his head. This is his only chance. “Deaton destroyed the balance,” Stiles says, feeling Scott’s pulse speed up under his thumb. “We trusted him, but you don’t deserve this power. So, now—“ narrowing his eyes, Stiles grabs Scott’s chin and forces his mouth open “— you’re gonna give it back to us.”

The spark feels different than Donovan’s did, less artificial yet not as natural as Brett’s or Isaac’s. But it sings to him the same way all the other sparks do. It listens to Stiles’ command, slowly moving up Scott’s chest and throat. The color of his eyes starts to dim, flickering between yellow and red until they return to their dark brown.

Scott collapses where he stands, but Stiles doesn't care. His spark is hovering just above the palms of his hands, glowing a dark red color that somehow reminds Stiles of blood.

How fitting.

He returns to Theo, kneeling down next to him. His fingers tremble, but the spark follows his wishes and lowers onto Theo’s chest. It hovers there for a few seconds, illuminating the blood and injuries, all that violence, then it sinks through layers of clothes and skin until Stiles can't see it any longer.

But Theo doesn’t wake up.

He doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t even move a single muscle.

“Misiu,” Stiles whispers, gathering Theo in his arms. His skin is still warm, but his spark is barely there. It seems to have gotten even weaker despite Stiles’ efforts. But how? How is that possible? He did— Theo should be better. Why isn’t he getting better? “Misiu, please, wake up. You can’t leave me alone, okay?” He pulls him closer, higher, until Theo is leaning against his chest. “Stay with me. You have to stay—”

Someone’s coming.

Stiles whips his head around and narrows his eyes. His hold on Theo tightens.

“Oh, what the fuck?” Brett slides to a stop, followed by Isaac and Jackson.

The latter stares at Stiles for a few seconds before his attention snaps to Deucalion. Something crosses over his face, something dark — something Stiles latches on to easily enough.

“What happened?” Isaac steps over Deucalion, drawing his eyebrows together. “Are you okay?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Theo is…” dying. Dead. He’s slipping through his fingers as they speak, but Stiles gave him the spark of an alpha. He gave him the spark with the nemeton’s power. “He isn’t healing.” Stiles presses his lips together. It doesn’t make sense. He should be getting better. This isn’t right.

Isaac tries to step closer again, but Brett stops him dead in his tracks. “What did you do?”

Curling his fingers into Theo’s bloody shirt, Stiles fixes his gaze on the werewolf. “What do you mean?” There’s a twinge of anger deep inside him.

Brett keeps his distance, merely nodding at Scott before repeating his question in the same inquiring tone, “what did you do?”

Stiles narrows his eyes. His fingers twitch in Theo’s clothes. “What needed to be done.” Not that it matters. Nothing matters. Theo is dying in his arms, and Brett cares about what he did to Scott? It’s his fault Theo is dying after all. Scott deserves worse. “But it wasn’t enough.” And if not even the nemeton’s power can save him… Stiles squeezes his eyes shut to take a deep, steadying breath. Theo is already too far gone. Deucalion made sure Theo wouldn't survive this. No, no. Scott made sure Theo wouldn’t survive this. That’s why he decided to bring Deucalion.

“You took Scott’s spark?”

“It wasn’t Scott’s,” Stiles snaps, rage returning to every part of his body. “It was stolen from us.” His own voice sounds strange in his ears.

Brett flinches at his words and takes another step back, dragging Isaac with him. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, almost as if he’s trying to find the right words. “Stiles,” he says after a few seconds of silence, only to trail off again. Glancing at Isaac, who looks confused, Brett looks at Stiles again. This time, his eyes flash yellow for all but a heartbeat. Whatever he sees makes him lower his head. “And now, it’s back where it belongs.” His voice is calm, but his posture is giving him away. He looks tense, and he feels more than a little nervous. “That means Theo has a better chance of surviving.” The smile doesn’t look genuine, and for some reason, Brett does not meet his eye again. “You did the right thing.” No matter how steady his voice is, he’s lying through his teeth.

Isaac shoots him an irritated look, but the small shake of Brett’s head keeps him from saying anything.

“He isn’t healing,” Stiles tells them in a low voice. However, Theo’s spark hasn’t died yet, and that’s all he is hanging onto right now. “We couldn’t heal him.”

“We can help him.” Brett takes a single step forward again, but he’s more than a little hesitant about it. His fingers curl and uncurl at his sides, almost as if he’s not sure what to do with his hands. It’s a strange look on him.

Stiles shakes his head, tightening his grip on Theo’s shirt. “No, you can’t.”

Brett licks his lips, raising both hands in an almost placating gesture. “Our emissary can. Morrell is—”

“No,” Stiles yells, and Brett backing away again shouldn’t be as satisfying as it is. However, it still doesn’t calm him down, not enough to be swayed in his decision. “She was with him.” Stiles nods in Deucalion’s direction, still being pinned down by the roots he’s called upon. But Deucalion isn’t the only one rooted to the spot. Jackson hasn’t moved either. Stiles wonders what’s going on in his head, and how much Danny and Lydia told him about what Deucalion did.

Isaac crosses and uncrosses his arms. “She’s with us now.” It seems like Brett’s nervous behavior has transferred to him.

Stiles narrows his eyes. “We won’t let her touch him.” His grip on Theo tightens further, and for a second, it’s almost like his spark regains a little bit of strength, but it goes so fast that it might as well be his imagination. “Not as long as he’s alive.” Stiles stares at Deucalion, and not for the first time, he wishes that he could kill someone with his powers. But no matter how much he wants those roots to crush Deucalion, they won’t follow this command — and he’s not letting go of Theo either.

Chuckling darkly, Jackson raises a hand. “I can deal with that.” He crouches down behind Deucalion’s head, tipping his head to the side a little.

“Jackson.” Isaac turns on his heels. “Wait.”

Without warning, Brett surges forward and pins Isaac to the wall, one arm pressed against his throat.

“What the fuck?” Isaac tries to push Brett away, but the other wolf doesn’t budge. “Back off!”

Glancing at Stiles, he shakes his head. “Don’t,” Brett says through clenched teeth, “get involved.”

“Brett—”

“No.” Again, Brett swallows visibly. “I’ll explain it later. Just trust me.”

Nodding to himself, Stiles turns his attention away from them and towards Jackson, who doesn’t seem to have heard them or simply doesn’t care.

“I know who you are,” he says in a low voice, suppressed anger clinging to every syllable. “I know what you did.” Jackson smiles, his eyes burning a dark yellow. “You put my friends in harm’s way, and now you killed Theo.” The words cut through the tunnels like a gunshot. “I think it’s about time—” Jackson raises his right hand, claws springing free with a sickening snick “— someone gets rid of you.”

“Back off!” Isaac yells.

This time, Brett can’t help but follow the command. He’s backing away without meeting either Stiles’ or Isaac’s eyes.

“Jackson, no!” But Isaac reacts too late. Without another word, without even a flicker of hesitation, Jackson brings his hand down. Deucalion tries to struggle, but the roots keep him in place, the roots keep him silent and desperate; they keep him defenceless as his death swiftly approaches.

Stiles watches as Jackson’s claws tear through Deucalion’s throat, and he can’t help the smile tugging on his lips as he rips out the alpha’s throat.

Isaac curses under his breath, stepping away as the blood threatens to drench his shoes. So much blood has been spilled down here in a matter of minutes.

But it’s not enough.

Not even close.

Stiles turns his head to look at Scott. He caused all of this. His blood should be spilled as well. Stiles swallows, loosening his grip on Theo, but he’s not willing to let go of him. He can’t. What if he dies? What if his spark gives up when Stiles—

There’s a hand on the side of his head, and something sharp sinks into the side of his neck. “I’m sorry,” Hayden whispers as cold liquid spreads through his body like a wildfire. It takes mere seconds for his body to grow too heavy, for his sight to narrow to a pinprick. His grip on Theo loosens further, and he feels himself falling to the side, unable to catch himself.

“I got you,” someone whispers, arms secure around him. “You’re going to be okay.”

Stiles reaches for Theo, but he’s nowhere to be found.

— — —

Stiles wakes up to his whole body aching. Even with his eyes closed, the light is too bright, and the ground underneath him is hard and uncomfortable. He groans quietly, slowly blinking his eyes open. The brightness hurts. The sound he makes sounds like a wounded animal even to his own ears. Stiles raises his hand, but it’s awfully heavy, and he can’t get it to cover his face to protect himself from the light.

“Dim the light.”

Jackson?

Stiles squeezes his eyes firmly shut for a couple of seconds before trying to open them once. The light is less violent, but he can’t make out where he is. All he knows is that he isn’t in the tunnels any longer. Other than Jackson, Stiles can make out the shape of a few other people in-midst of this room. But what fucking room? Stiles squeezes his eyes shut once more, then blinks. His vision clears enough to make out his surroundings. There are shelves with stuff everywhere and a staircase leading into what seems to be nowhere. But Stiles assumes there’s a door somewhere up there. “Where am I?” Or, more specifically, whose basement has he been dumped in.

Jackson crosses his arms over his legs. “We’re inside the Hale vault.”

Stiles squints at him. “What?” He raises his hands again. His arms still feel unusually heavy, but it’s the sound of metal scraping over stone — that’s when he looks down, staring at a set of thick chains around his wrists. It takes a few seconds until he understands what that means. “Are you— what is this?”

“Precaution.” Peter slips off the box he was sitting on and smiles as if he’s proud of something. “It was my idea.” Of course.

Jackson shakes his head. “Your powers were acting up.”

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Stiles looks around the Hale vault. It has to be a different room from the one they’ve been in. It’s larger, easily holding a group of people without forcing them to be grouped in one spot. Peter seems to have decided to keep his distance from the others; he’s on the right side of the room. Jackson has taken up the stairs, sitting on the bottom step with his arms crossed over his thighs.

Brett and Isaac are standing next to a locked safe. After exchanging a few hushed whispers, the former pushes away from the safe and walks toward him.

Forcing himself into a sitting position, Stiles looks around the room once more. The chimeras are painfully absent from the Hale vault. He licks his lips. “Where is Theo?” His memories are hazy, but he does remember that Theo’s gotten hurt. He doesn’t remember how bad, but if he’s not here — no. Stiles is not going to think about that. Theo is just fine. There’s probably a good explanation for his absence. There has to be a good explanation for this.

Brett stops him in front of him, crossing his arms. For a few very long seconds, he doesn’t say anything and merely studies him for a few seconds. “He’s with his pack.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Isaac works his fingers through his hair. He looks tired, just like the rest of them. Well, everyone but Peter, who looks a little too chipper.

Stiles shifts into a more comfortable position, trying to ignore the discomfort even the smallest of movements causes him. “Theo got hurt.” He bites his bottom lip and looks down, hating the feeling of everyone just staring at him. Furrowing his brows, Stiles tugs on the pair of sweatpants he’s wearing. Those do not belong to him. “Whose clothes are these?”

“Danny’s.” Jackson rubs his right cheek, looking as if he’s trying to suppress a yawn.

“Why am I wearing Danny’s clothes?” Stiles has a strange feeling that he’s missing something quite significant that happened after they got Peter out… after Theo got hurt. Fuck. Where is Theo? He can sense the chimeras, but he’s still unable to separate them so close together, and it’s driving Stiles slowly insane.

Jackson gets to his feet. “You really don’t remember?” Pushing his hands in the pockets of his jeans, he walks over to them, stopping right next to Brett. His expression is unreadable, but the blood on his clothes and forearms speaks volumes.

Something is very wrong.

“What did I do?” Because that’s the only explanation for his friends’ behavior. He did something he, for some fucking reason, cannot remember — and it seems to have involved blood. Even Brett has spots of dark red on his clothes. “What happened?” Stiles presses his hands to the floor, struggling to get to his feet. “Where the fuck is Theo?” His legs don’t feel like they’re going to support him for too long, especially not with the chains weighing what seems to be a million pounds around his wrists.

“He’s alive,” Isaac says, lightly tapping his heel against the safe he’s now sitting on. “But still in critical condition.”

Stiles licks his lips, crossing and uncrossing his arms. “What happened?” That’s all he needs to fucking know right now. Theo got hurt. He needs to know why. He needs to know— Stiles curls his hands into fists. “Did I hurt him?” Because why would he be here in chains and without Theo if this wasn’t his fault.

Isaac shakes his head. You saved him. Without you, Theo most likely would’ve already died after what Deucalion did to him.”

Deucalion?

“Deuc—“ Stiles blinks. It’s coming back to him now. Scott finding them in the tunnels. The attack. Theo dying. The blood. So much blood. That’s probably why he’s got Danny’s clothes on. He must’ve been drenched in Theo’s blood.

Jackson sighs. “You remember now?”

Again, Stiles blinks. Yes, he remembers. He remembers everything that happened last night. Or a few hours ago. Or— whenever everything went down. “You’re an alpha.”

“Yes,” Jackson nods, tapping a finger against his arm. “Just like Theo if he wakes up.” If he wakes up. That’s not a particularly comforting statement.

“When,” Brett corrects him, “when he wakes up.” Silence follows his words, mostly because Brett was probably the last person anyone here expected to be positive about Theo. However, he doesn’t look particularly bothered by everyone’s confusion — he actually looks as if he means every word. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “He’s too stubborn to die and probably worried you’ll fall in love with somebody else. You know he can’t let that happen.”

Despite himself, Stiles chuckles. The thing is, Brett isn’t exactly wrong. Theo has proven more than enough times that he is more than a little possessive of him. Of course, he has to pull through. Theo cannot die on him, not when he just told him he loves him. Because he does. More than what’s probably considered healthy. After all, it was Stiles who ripped Scott’s spark out and lost his composure completely. He was so out of it that Hayden had to sneak up on him and use the fucking syringe with wolf lichen on him. That’s probably why he’s feeling like shit right now.

Stiles lets out a long breath. This city might have it out for him, but it cannot be this cruel. It simply cannot. This fucking town took enough from him. He can’t lose Theo. He fucking can’t. “I wanna see him.” Stiles can’t wait for news locked away down here.

Brett works his fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

A sudden rush of anger cuts through him, and Stiles narrows his eyes. “You think these—“ he raises his hands a little, chains scraping over the stone floor, “— can hold me?”

“See, that attitude is what got you put down here in the first place.” Brett rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “And yes, for now, these things will keep you down here.” For now, that is the deciding factor.

“Those are made to ensure supernatural creatures will not be able to escape,” Peter sounds almost indignant.

“Good thing I don’t need supernatural help,” Stiles shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. If his dad taught him one thing, it’s how to free himself from multiple situations. But arguing isn’t going to get him anywhere, and he’s not about to injure himself any further. This isn’t a kidnapping, after all. Considering how he acted last night, Stiles can’t even blame them for being extra careful. “I just want to be with him, please.”

Sighing, Isaac stands up. “Since he’s not talking about himself as ‘we’ any longer,” he states, pushing his hands in the pockets of his jeans as well, “I reckon it’s safe to leave.” He lets out a long breath, looking even more tired up close. “We should probably go home and get some rest.” His gaze snaps to Peter. “And you—“

“You won’t even notice I’m here.”

Isaac scoffs. “I’d prefer to know exactly where you are, Peter.” Isaac looks back at Stiles, an eyebrow raised. “You can track him, right?”

Stiles nods. “He can’t hide from me.” If Peter is bothered by that fact, he doesn’t show it. But it’s not like he could stop Stiles even if he didn’t like it.

Brett fishes for the keys in his pocket. “We better stop to grab some coffee first.”

— — —

Although Stiles felt like throwing up, Isaac decided that he should eat at least something. Nobody offered him any pain, and Stiles didn’t ask to feed. He doesn’t blame them for being extra careful. Stiles would have been too, and he doesn’t care about anything but getting to Theo as quickly as possible. It’s driving him absolutely insane that he can’t find Theo’s spark between those of the other chimeras.

“You know what I don’t get?” Brett taps the steering wheel, interrupting the silence hovering in the car since Isaac left to grab coffee and something to eat. “How’d he find you? There are so many entrances, but he was right there when you came out.” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

Stiles studies Brett’s profile from the backseat. “I just assumed he was looking for Malia.” It sounds so stupid now that he’s saying it out loud.

Brett turns to look at him. “With Deucalion?”

And that’s why Stiles is most likely wrong. Scott wasn’t looking for Malia. Not at all. No matter how buddy-buddy they acted last night, Stiles highly doubts Scott invited Deucalion back to Beacon Hills just to help him look for Malia. “No, probably not.” Stiles scrunches up his face. They made a point not to talk about anything while in public. They were careful. They were so fucking careful, and it’s not like anybody had contact with Scott. Stiles was probably the only person who talked to Scott occasionally. But that’s mostly because Scott just doesn’t seem to understand that their friendship is just over and that Stiles doesn’t have any fucking interest in changing anything about it.

“So,” Brett says, sinking back into the driver’s seat, “how did he know?”

How did Scott figure out where Theo and he would be? Stiles sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and leans his head against the window, watching as Isaac comes out of the coffee shop after a young woman. Stiles frowns. He’s still not hungry, now even less than before since Brett made him think about Scott finding them. Because it doesn’t leave a lot of options. Coincidence seems almost impossible.

“Here.” Isaac tosses a sandwich onto his lap. “Try to eat at least half of it.”

Stiles nods absentmindedly. The thing is, if Scott didn’t find them by chance — which seems more and more unlikely the more he thinks about it — the only other option is that someone ratted them out. But who’d do that? They may not be the closest of friends. Still, none of them have a reason to stab each other in the back, not like this.

Right?

Or did he really misplace his trust this much?

Stiles lets out a breath and nibbles on his sandwich. He doesn’t want to be this wrong. He simply can’t be this wrong. Pressing his lips together, Stiles watches houses and trees rush past. The silence in the car doesn’t help the sinking feeling getting worse with every passing second. Someone betrayed them. One of the people he thought he could trust almost got Theo killed.

But who’d do that to him? Who’d do that to Theo?

Or maybe whoever did that didn’t know about Deucalion. Maybe they thought Scott would come alone. Then again, why would they risk it? Unless they hoped Scott stopping them would get one or both of them caught by the hunters.

Brett pulls into the driveway of Theo’s place. “You’re awfully quiet back there. What’s going on in your head?”

For a moment, Stiles hesitates. What if it’s Brett? Or Isaac? Stiles shakes his head. No. They wouldn’t have helped Theo if they wanted to get rid of them.

“Probably wondering if we fucked him over.” Isaac lets out a breath and sips on his coffee, pausing for a second. “And if I didn’t know how paranoid you are, I’d try to convince you that it wasn’t us.” Isaac doesn’t like Scott, Brett hardly knows him, and Jackson doesn’t care about what does or doesn’t happen to Scott. None of them would have a reason to work with him in any way. It just doesn’t make any sense.

Stiles shakes his head. “I just wanna go see Theo.” Stiles slips out of the car without another word and walks towards the front door as fast as his feet would allow him. Once he’s okay, Stiles can figure out who told Scott which tunnel they’d come out of.

Hayden opens the door before he has even the chance to knock. “Hey,” she whispers, pulling him into a hug Stiles wasn’t expecting. It’s a short hug, but it’s easy to fall into. “How are you doing?”

Shrugging, Stiles pulls away. “How’s Theo?”

The smile Hayden offers him puts Stiles’ stomach into knots. “He’s hanging on.” Still smiling, Hayden steps aside to let him in.

Stiles hurries up the stairs. All he wants is to get to Theo. Nothing else matters to him. The stairs turn out to be a bigger challenge than he could’ve anticipated. Halfway up, he has to slow down and takes one step at a time. His legs don’t feel particularly steady, and his heart hammers as if he’s run a marathon, but he doesn’t stop to catch his breath. He places a hand against the wall once he’s made it upstairs and walks down the hallways as quickly as possible.

When he passes Josh’s room, he spots both Josh and Corey asleep, sitting upright on his bed. Looks like it’s the girls’ turn to keep an eye on their alpha. But for some reason, seeing Josh and Corey sleeping puts him a little at ease. They wouldn’t sleep if Theo were in a terrible state.

Stiles takes a deep breath before entering Theo’s room. He’s not quite sure what to expect. All he remembers is a lot of blood. Too much blood. But he’s still alive. He is still alive. That’s all that counts. At least right now. Because Theo is going to be fine. He has to be fine. Steadying himself, Stiles finally pushes the door open.

The first thing he notices is that Theo looks awfully pale, lying on his back with his eyes closed — but that’s not the only thing he sees. There are fingers brushing his cheek in a way Stiles considers as far too intimate. For a moment, Stiles thinks he’s too exhausted to be angry. But when Tracy yanks her hands back, eyes wide and full of guilt, it slams into him without warning, just like it did back in the Hale vault. His hands curl into fists.

Tracy jumps to her feet. “Stiles, I—“

“Shut up,” Stiles snaps, fighting the urge to kick her out of the house or break every one of her fingers. This anger feels different. As much as he likes to pretend, he’s clearly not completely over what possessed him yesterday. Stiles takes a deep breath. “Just get out.” He says, not wanting to lose it like he did last night. Their truce is on thin ice, and Tracy isn’t making keeping it any easier. He needs her gone. He needs to be alone with Theo. He needs to be with Theo.

He crosses the room and collapses on the mattress. His anger vanishes the second his fingers brush over Theo’s cheek. He feels cold. His skin is almost icy, and there is still not a single hint of pain. Biting his bottom lip, Stiles brushes a strand of hair out of Theo’s forehead. “Misiu.” Taking a deep breath, Stiles kicks off his shoes. He’s tired but too afraid of falling asleep in case something happens. But Theo is so fucking cold.

“I can’t believe Scott allowed this to happen,” Tracy whispers.

Stiles closes his eyes. “Can you please just leave us alone?” He doesn’t want to argue, and he certainly doesn’t want to have her around.

Tracy doesn’t say anything as she crosses the room. She slams the door shut behind her, which says more than any words ever could. Why is she even thinking about what Scott would or wouldn’t allow to happen anyway? If she wants to be angry, she should be pissed about how Scott was even able to find them. Scott almost got Theo killed.

Almost.

Before opening his eyes, Stiles takes another deep breath. Looking at Theo hurts. He looks too calm, too pale. It’s just not right. His fingers tremble as he slips under the covers. “Misiu,” Stiles whispers again, curling around his boyfriend, “please don’t leave me here alone.” He curls his fingers into the soft sweater and squeezes his eyes shut, trying his best not to cry. “I need you, okay? I can’t lose you. Do you hear me? I can’t.”

---

*Proszę, błagam cię -> Please, I'm begging you.

*Zrób to dla mnie -> Do it for me.

#steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #steoedit #teen wolf #stiles x theo #theo x stiles #no place for promises #*tv:teen wolf #*w:npfp #*s:steo

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heliads · 2 years

Text

Foresight (Part Four)

You’re Lydia Martin’s twin sister and a banshee, worried by the fact that your hair stubbornly remains a startling white. After a McCall pack meeting goes sour, you end up on the run from hunters. Soon enough, you realize you’re not in Beacon Hills anymore- and the werewolf greeting you, Wyatt Lykensen, is like none you’ve ever met before.

part three / masterlist / part five

For a moment, Wyatt just stares at you. He holds out a hand, as if the sheer reminder that he’s there will be enough to drag you out of whatever nightmare won’t seem to leave you. Then, he starts to speak as carefully and calmly as he can. “What do you mean, I have to stay here? What does that mean?”

You shake your head slowly. Your shoulders are trembling like the edge of your curtains in front of a barely cracked window, like your entire body has been set alight. “The trip to Beacon Hills. You have to stay here, in Seabrook. You can’t go with me.” Wyatt frowns. “Why? What happened?” It’s hard to look at him. Every time you allow your gaze to settle on his face, you only see it contorted in pain, like it had been in your nightmare. You try anyway.

“I had another one of those banshee visions. I was in the woods near Beacon Hills, but not on your side. I was definitely back home, but I was being attacked by hunters. All of a sudden, I turned around and there you were. You’d been shot by one of their arrows.” The words come out like a gasp from a dying man, but there they are.

Wyatt’s face hollows slightly. “You think that if I go with you to those woods, I’ll get shot?” You nod. “I saw it all. You have to stay here, Wyatt, it’s the only way that you stay safe.” He leans back slightly, as if he’s thinking, but then his jaw sets in determination. “I’m still going with you.” You stare at him, eyes wide. “What? Did you not hear what I said? You’re going to get attacked by hunters. I only saw one of us get seriously hurt, and it was you.”

Wyatt spreads his hands. “Yeah, because I took an arrow for you. That means that you get out alive. I’m a werewolf, Y/N. That means I have my moonstone. I’ve been this old for more than a decade, and I heal much faster than you. I’d rather take the arrow than have you get shot in the back because I was afraid of something we don’t even know will happen.”

You look at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me? Every time I see something like this, someone gets killed. I just watched you die, and you’re telling me that you want to go ahead with it anyway?” Wyatt frowns. “We don’t know for sure that I could die. What about when you first met me? You were able to get from Beacon Hills to here through a vision, but I didn’t die.”

Your tone is cool when you speak again. “That’s because I killed five hunters in the span of a minute. People still died.” Wyatt winces. “Well, when you put it that way-” You hold up a hand, stopping him. “Look, just listen to me. I can’t let you die. Please tell me that you’re not going with me.”

You’re hoping that he’ll listen to you, understand the gravity of the situation and agree to remain here, at home. At least then you can try to keep him safe. But he just shakes his head again. “Not a chance. If you get attacked by hunters, I want to be there to make sure you don’t die. The future is still uncertain, and this might not happen anyway. You’re not going without me.” You sigh. “This is a terrible idea. I don’t want to get you killed.”

Wyatt thinks for a second. “Then don’t go at all. Stay here. You said it yourself, the hunters can’t seem to find us here. We can all be safe.” You lean closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I want to, but Lydia and my friends were my pack first. I can’t just abandon them. If I don’t show up on that date, they might come find me instead. I have to go.”

Wyatt reaches over to take your hand. “Then I’m going too. I can handle a fight, Y/N, I promise. Nothing’s going to happen, because we’re ready for it now. Trust me, I don’t intend on getting anywhere near a bow and arrow.” You laugh, but it ends in a broken sort of sob. “I don’t think it’s as easy as that.” He just grins. “Watch me.”

You’ve planned on leaving at the end of the week, which isn’t for a few more days. All the same, you can’t shake the vision of Wyatt’s death in your head, like your mind is a broken record stuck on the worst possible memory you haven’t even experienced yet. Eventually, you know two things for certain: one, you have to go to Beacon Hills to say goodbye to your sister and your pack, and two, you cannot allow Wyatt to go with you.

So, you form a new plan. You wait for Wyatt to get involved with some of his friends in the werewolf pack, then approach Willa when you’re sure that he won’t notice you. At first, she seems confused as to why you want to speak to her alone, but once you tell her about your vision, she looks just as horrified as you feel.

“You’re sure that it was him? And you saw him die?” You nod, raising a hand to your face. “I could feel it. I was in the middle of the woods at Beacon Hills, and there he was. I saw him get shot, right in the heart. He can’t heal from that, and I can’t let him die just because he doesn’t want me to be alone in the fight.”

Willa nods, her jaw set. “I’m not letting him die either.” You smile, your mouth a grim line. “I was hoping you’d say that.” The two of you discuss your options a while longer, then come up with the barest scrape of a plan. You’re not sure how well it will work, if it will even work at all, but it’s better than going with Wyatt’s hope that he simply won’t die because he’s aware of it now.

You leave that night, packing your bags under the cover of darkness. You told Wyatt you were going to bed early, and said your goodnights as per usual. If he can tell that your smile hurts a little too much to hold when you wave goodbye, he doesn’t say a thing about it. Willa made sure that some of his friends would come over to distract him, so he doesn’t see you slip out of your room and lock the door behind you. No one does.

You meet up with Willa just before you go, to run through the plan one last time. You’ve got the few things you need to make the trip over, and then you’ll be ready to go. You’ll travel through the woods tonight, hope you can make it through Seabrook’s Forbidden Forest and cross over to Beacon Hills without your visions leaving you.

Tomorrow morning, Wyatt will wake up and realize that you’re not in your bed. Or, he will, unless Willa manages to keep her part of the deal, which involves getting to him before he knocks on your door to no answer and puts two and two together. She’s already got a list of things that she ‘needs’ him to do, like checking out an unexplored part of the werewolves’ cave, correlating with the Seabrook High School to make sure you can join up without any problems, and whatever else she can come up with on short notice.

The goal is to keep him distracted until it’s hours later and he can’t do anything except wait for you to get back. If Wyatt cannot make it over to Beacon Hills without you, and you’re not there for him to follow, he has no choice but to remain in Seabrook, where he’s safe from the hunters that seem to congregate around your every movement back in Beacon Hills.

You’re running on the assumption that he won’t try to find you later tonight, once his friends leave, or that he’ll notice that he hasn’t seen you all day and Willa is doing her best to keep him very, very busy. If he manages to catch you before you leave Seabrook for Beacon Hills, it’s all over and your vision will surely come true. All you can do is hope that the plan will work long enough for you to slip out without too much notice.

The woods are already dark at this time of night. You shiver slightly- you forgot your coat back in Seabrook because you were worried about getting out in time before Wyatt noticed you go, and the wind is cutting into your skin with every step you take. You take one step after another, not sure about any of them. You can’t quite remember the path you took to get out of the woods when you first came here, so you don’t know how to retrace your steps.

Time seems to slip by, too. The night grows later and later, but you don’t recognize the woods as any part of Beacon Hills. How are you supposed to get back home if you don’t even know the way back? Even Wyatt would have a better idea of how to get to Beacon Hills than you right now.

Wyatt. Thinking about him makes you sigh, your breath turning into a white mist from the cold. You watch as it drifts up to disappear amongst the treetops. Is this wrong, what you’re doing? All you want is to keep him safe, to say goodbye to your old pack so you can move on with his. Are you being too greedy, to want to embrace this life with him? The rest of your friends will keep on fighting the hunters until the day they die, but you get to choose to leave it all behind. Doesn’t that feel wrong?

The only thing that you’re certain is right is Wyatt. The way he makes you laugh is so pure, so good, that you could have sworn you’d never been truly happy before him. Even though you’re partially choosing Seabrook because it means that you finally get to step out of the werewolf-hunter war and be safe, being with him makes you feel so alive that every new day comes with a rush of adrenaline that you’ve never felt before, even in the thickest parts of a shootout when you were never sure whether or not you would make it out today.

That’s what Wyatt is to you, life. Beacon Hills means survival, making it to the next day. Wyatt makes you want to see a new dawn, not because it means you made it through the last one, but because there is so much you could do with the time you’re given. Is that such a crime, to want to smile with your eyes opening each morning instead of on your dying breath? Lydia once told you that she knew she loved Stiles because she knew she couldn’t take him dying, but you know you love Wyatt because the thought of being alive with him overpowers everything else.

Your steps are more sure now as you think about him. The two of you had started exploring the forests around Seabrook in the last few days. It’s amazing how much he knows, how even with his eyes closed and his hands bound behind him, he could find his way from the deepest thickets back to his home. He would know where he is, but you have this odd feeling that you do, too.

You’re almost afraid to focus on the world around you lest you lose your confidence again, so you force your thoughts back on the boy you’ve just left behind. You do your best to remember every detail of the enigma that is Wyatt Lykensen so that even in the days you’re without him, you don’t forget a single thing. You remember the way his eyes shine under the stars, the deep sound of his howl echoing up through the stone caves of the werewolves’ home, the way he smiled even when he was trying to be serious because he saw you enter the room. It is all here, in your head, and it is all good.

There is more, too, more you haven’t quite thought about yet. Wyatt was always the fastest to offer you his jacket if he saw you shivering. If he were here with you now, if he saw the way you gripped your arms for even the barest hint of warmth, he would be slinging his coat around your shoulders so fast that the rush of heat would shock you like a bolt of lightning. He’d press a kiss to your cheek as he did it, then keep glancing back at you every few minutes just to see how his jacket looked on you, and smile. You know this is how it would go, because it’s happened a few times before.

For some reason, you come to a stop. You’ve been moving faster and faster, almost running, but it’s all gone now, all that adrenaline and rush evaporated into the brisk air. You look up slowly, unsure of when you started tuning out the world around you but even more unsure of why you’ve suddenly rejoined reality. Gradually, you realize that you know exactly where you are. In fact, when you look back behind you, everything looks the exact same as the Beacon Hills Preserve of your memory. How could you have ever gotten lost?

So you’re back, then. You’re not entirely sure what changed in your mind to help you remember, but you’re in Beacon Hills now. For some reason, thinking about Wyatt helped you focus and concentrate long enough to lose yourself to the vision of getting here again. Looks like he’s still helping you out, even if he isn’t here to do it in person.

A sound echoes out of the woods in front of you, and you’re instantly alert again, looking around for any sign of hunters. However, the group of people walking into the clearing with you are not hunters, or enemies of any type. Instead, they smile upon seeing you, and you smile back upon seeing your friends. One girl in particular leaves the rest of the pack to greet you first, one with strawberry blond hair and a last name that you share. “Hey, Y/N. Good to have you back.” She says, and you grin. “Thanks, Lydia.”

disney tag list: the person that would allow me to enter a trance so i could get from seabrook to beacon hills @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @thatfangirl42

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spideysquake · 2 years

Text

the infinite playlist - two: y/n makes a choice she’s probably gonna regret

based on nick and norah’s infinite playlist by david levithan and rachel cohn

summary: y/n takes on a project she doesn’t have the patience for, stiles gets caught in a really awkward turf war of sorts, and lydia has decent taste in guys for someone with terrible taste in guys.

warnings: lots of cursing; fake dating au; lydia and stiles are not together, and lydia is not exactly the nicest all the time; stiles is angsty and chaotic but we love him anyway; y/n is a bitch, but she’s also a bad bitch so we forgive her

word count: 2.5k [give or take]

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It’s barely 11 o’clock and my hope for my night has already been completely destroyed – Liam is completely shitfaced, my hair is doing that shitty thing where it refuses to hold any sort of style but has no problem retaining every drop of sweat from the entire day, and the last good band of the night just finished their set. And yes, okay, I told Liam I wouldn’t drink tonight so that he could let loose after his really crappy week. But now that I’m here and the club is so loud and nobody seems to have any sort of spatial awareness, all I want is a fucking bikini martini.

I really didn’t think my night could get any more exhausting, and then the intriguingly attractive bassist from tonight’s only decent band asks me to be his fake girlfriend for the next five minutes. I’m tempted to say no, really – I mean, what kind of dumbass would agree to be a stranger’s fake girlfriend in a dark club when they’re supposed to be looking out for their drunk himbo best friend? But then I remember that this particular boy is in a band, and band boys usually come with band vans, and it would be a million times easier to get Liam home in a van than on the subway. So yeah, against my better judgement, I agree to be Bass Boy’s fake girlfriend.

And here’s the thing about Bass Boy – he’s not the worst possible way to spend an evening. He’s got this whole “I’m-definitely-cute-but-I-don’t-quite-know-it” vibe going on; he’s wearing this beat-up gray and red flannel and some dark wash jeans that prove that, while possibly fashionably inept, he’s not as gay as Matt from When I Say Jesus, You Say Christ thinks he is.

The girl he was staring at is beautiful, with shiny red hair and perfectly done makeup and even a stunning brunette Ken-doll type to go along with it all. And, like Bass Boy said, she’s headed directly for us, her boy toy in tow. But it’s not until she’s standing five feet in front of us, a bright and shiny smile plastered across her face that I recognize her. Just as I realize who Punk Princess Barbie is, Bass Boy turns to me with another ridiculous request.

“Please kiss me.”

“Excuse me, what?” I know I signed up to be this poor schmuck’s girlfriend or whatever, but that doesn’t really negate the fact that we just met, and now he’s asking me to tangle tongues with him in public.

“Please, she’s right there. Just kiss me for, like, the quickest second of your life.”

I roll my eyes, but I give in. I interlock my left hand with his right one, and with my other hand I pull his face down to meet mine. His lips are surprisingly soft, and he doesn’t taste like stale cigarettes and beer, which is a definite step up from the last guy I made out with.

We’ve been kissing for about five seconds when I remember something I once saw Liam’s on-again-off-again girlfriend do that he raved about incessantly for a week. I take my fingers and intertwine my nails with the short hairs at the nape of his neck, scratching them against the delicate skin under his buzzed hair for just a moment, just until I feel him shiver against my chest, which is pressed as close to his as I can possibly get it. And trust me when I say that I did not go into this expecting – or wanting – any sort of tongue action, but when he gently slips his tongue past my lips, I find myself having no problem with it whatsoever. I can taste the mint gum that he was probably chewing before the show, and I can tell that he uses chapstick more than most guys, which is, strangely, quite the turn on.

I’ve pretty much lost myself in the taste of his lips against mine when I hear a familiar but grating voice clear her throat from behind me, jarring the both of us enough to pull away from each other. I whip my head around and am faced with the queen bitch herself, clad in this gorgeous leather skirt that I’m drooling over just as much as I’m drooling over the boy in front of me. Lydia has her arms crossed over her fluffy pink sweater, because if anyone was going to turn a dingy club show into an opportunity for a fashion show, it was Lydia Martin. She kind of looks like if a feather boa and the personification of a leather boot had a fashion baby – if I wasn’t so repulsed by the thought of her acting like this was her scene, I might actually be impressed. Behind her stands the reject from American Idiot: The Musical, but she seems way more interested in my evening activities than her particular flavor of the week.

At the sight of her pursed lips and furrowed brow, I feel the need to sink into myself until I no longer exist in the space. But then I remember that this is my scene, and my usual Friday Night Spot, and my music taste that she’s infringing upon, not the other way around. So I intertwine my fingers with Bass Boy’s, and wrap his arm around my waist so that his hand is essentially resting on my stomach. I press myself into him a little bit, and I can’t help the surge of pride when I notice that she hears his breath hitch just as well as I can.

“Um… Hi, Lydia. What are you doing here?” I make sure to keep my voice clipped, so she knows just how excited I’m not.

“Oh, you know, Jordan and I just thought we’d hit the town and see what the LA riff-raff had in store for us tonight. What about you two? How do you, like, know Stiles?”

So Bass Boy’s name is Stiles. And Bass Boy knows Lydia. What a fucking turn of events.

“Oh you know, we just uh –” But before Bass Boy can get another word out, I do this thing I’ve seen Liam’s girls do a hundred times over when they wanna get possessive. I tuck myself under Bass Boy’s arm, wrap my right arm around his back and crawl my left hand up his chest until the tips of my fingers reach his sternum. I’ve just started stroking my thumb back and forth over the middle of his chest when I feel him shudder just a little under my touch.

“Oh, well I’m here because Stiles invited me to come watch his band play. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Stiles lets out a nervous chuckle and scratches at the shaggy hair at the crown of his head, kicking his foot into the ground and trying (admittedly, not very well) to hide the blush that’s taken over his face. But before he can get a word out, Lydia clears her throat harshly and flicks a strand of perfectly red hair over her shoulder. She’s trying not to pout, but I can see it in her eyes – I’ve poked the bear, for sure.

“Well, that’s cool or whatever. Jordan and I are gonna go grab a drink or something, maybe see who’s playing next.” And within ten seconds, she’s gripped onto her poor victim’s wrist and is dragging him towards the other side of the bar. There’s a part of me that feels bad for antagonizing her as bad as I did, but then there’s another part – a much bigger part – that is proud of myself for finally having the upper hand in a conversation with Lydia Fucking Martin.

I only have a moment to myself to bask in the gloriousness of this moment before Bass Boy yanks himself away from my arm and grabs my shoulders, jolting my attention towards him. At first, I think he’s going to lean in and kiss me again, because a victory such as that one deserves a celebration. But instead, he snaps his fingers in front of my face to get my attention, a desperate and somewhat terrified look on his face.

Liam likes to say that I’m the poster child for bitchiness; when he says this, I usually try to play it off like it doesn’t bother me. But now I’m pretty much convinced that my recent display of faux possessiveness has proven my undoubtable bitchiness to my fake boyfriend as he looks at me, dumbfounded. Here’s the thing, it wouldn’t be the first time my less-than-sunshiney attitude has driven away a man, but it would be the first time that a man leaves before I have the opportunity to be a bitch to him directly. But the words out of his mouth are not at all what I was expecting from the situation.

“How the hell do you know Lydia?”

Then the past three minutes come rushing back to me. Lydia called him Stiles. As in Stiles Stilinski, her Beacon Hills Boy. Stiles Stilinski, the boy who made her a mixtape for every one of their anniversaries, who wrote her a song when they graduated, who I may or may not have daydreamed about dating (even though I hadn’t seen his face). Stiles Stilinski, this Stiles Stilinski is the boy that made all of the girls in my freshman dorm envy the shit out of Lydia. We tried to get her to introduce him to us, bring him down for the weekend so we could all meet the boy who put Lloyd Dobler to shame. But of course, Lydia refused – she was hellbent on keeping Stiles as her little secret.

She used to talk about him all the time when Liam and I would go out to lunch with her. Is it a little bit sacrilegious that we’re kinda sorta friends with Lydia Martin? Maybe. But here’s the thing, Lydia can actually be a pretty tolerable person; plus, she has really great study tips that I definitely needed my first semester. We would go out for pizza and she would talk about the sweet but awkward boy from her hometown – the one who was nice enough, but just couldn’t let go of the past. She spent like three months talking about how she regretted going long-distance but she didn’t want to, like, crush his soul or anything. But I guess she got over that because this poor schmuck looks pretty soul-crushed to me.

I’m still trying to find a way to explain all of this to Stiles when I realize that I have absolutely no idea where the fuck Liam is. And that is just not how the night is supposed to go.

Without even really thinking about it, I use Stiles’s shoulder as a boost to stand up on one of the chairs near the bar. I guess I’m hoping that the new vantage point would help me find my best friend, who is definitely shitfaced. I can feel Stiles’s fingers wrapped around my wrist, but I’m way more focused on finding Liam and getting the hell out of this dank ass club than what Stiles is trying to say to me – as bitchy as that may sound.

I can hear the band playing some awful pop punk cover of Your Love is My Drug by Ke$ha when I spot Liam’s mop of messy brown hair across the dance floor. I jump down from the barstool I’m precariously perched on, and I take about three steps in his direction before Stiles’s grip on my wrist boomerangs me back into his personal space.

“Ok, I’m really not kidding right now. How the hell do you know Lydia?”

The lost puppy dog look in his eyes momentarily distracts me from my quest to rescue Liam, and I’m overcome with pity for this poor schmuck who’s obviously hurting. His eyes look devastated but his eyebrows look pissed as fuck, and it’s then when I realize that this boy has become the latest – and probably most heinous – in Lydia’s string of dates she’s dissed and dismissed for no reason other than she found something better. My heart bleeds for this poor angel of the alt-punk scene, and I’m suddenly reminded of this lyrics that Lydia showed me: she said it was the lamest thing any one of her boyfriends had ever given her, but honestly I thought it was so good it deserved to be hung in the MOMA or something – shredded binder paper canvas and all.

I’m starting to think I like The sound of you and this city The bells and the white search lights I think I’m ready now to answer them And in a dream, I hear your hum and noise and it sounds so free

I remember very distinctly complaining to Liam that afternoon about how stupid I thought Lydia was for hating those lyrics – how I would give limb upon organ upon limb to have someone write something that fucking soft for me. My pinky toe? Sure, take it – who needs balance anyway? A piece of my liver? It’s yours, I hate the taste of vodka anyway. My entire left arm? I type faster with my right one, so I won’t even miss it that much.

And now this boy – the boy with the potential for perfection and the impeccable ear for melody – is standing right in front of me, still obsessed with Lydia Martin. I would treat this boy to half off sushi rolls whenever he wanted and help him design the cover of albums that would be way too cool for the masses to understand, but instead, Lydia got to him first. So now this boy with perfection potential is doomed to be permanently obsessed with the girl with the pink pleather platform boots. Fucking typical.

And here’s the thing: I can’t even really blame him, because I was very lightly obsessed with Lydia Martin too, before I realized that she was human like the rest of us (and that she put YUNGBLUD on her pop punk essentials playlist). I mean, of course I was – she’s a redhead who can wear pink and she has no problem wearing six inch stilettos to a club where she’ll probably crush someone’s toes. But I have since released myself from the Cult of Lydia, a feat that Stiles has yet to accomplish, and I just don’t think I can be around that kind of energy tonight – not when Liam is already at his slutty drunk phase of the night.

So I lightly twist my wrist from out of his fingertips, and I reach my hand up to pat his cheek in an admittedly condescending way. I know that at this point, I could just walk away. I could say absolutely nothing and leave him to forget that this interaction, and more importantly that I, ever even happened. But I am nothing if not a chaotic bitch, so as I take a step back, I say one last thing.

I tell him, “It gets better eventually, I promise.” And I sink into the crowd, hopeful that my little nugget of wisdom does the trick.

a/n: happy new years’ eve !! she’s finally here ! chapter two ! thank you guys so much for your patience - i’m finally on a break from school so i’m going to try to write as much as possible. i’m really excited about this chapter, and about everything that’s to come for our faves. oh and also, the song that “stiles” wrote is called CVS by winnetka bowling league, in case anyone was curious. now please, tell me all your thoughts about the chapter here! and add yourself to the taglist here! until next time !!

xoxo, daisy

taglist [if your url is crossed out, i couldn’t tag you for some reason]: @giftedburnoutkid @m3ssytrash @witchybarb @voiddtrinity @dabisimp @midnightstan @k-k0129 @musicxlover97 @fan_girl97 @yasmin626 @mischief-mieczyslaw @peachyprism @togethcr @tigolebittiez @rottenstyx @justine-sophie-blog @nicole-stokes @leanneg97 @ritz-hell-hotel @the-fandom-queen @bloomingmalfoy

#the infinite playlist #the infinite playlist series #daisy writes #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski fic #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf #lydia martin #liam dunbar #fake dating au #fake dating #stiles stilinski fake dating au

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