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usermischief · 6 months

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♞Pairing: Steo ♞Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken ♞Tags: kidnapping, secret relationship ♞Words: 3319 ♞Prompt: inspired by "Rude" - Magic! (for @amatchinwater )

ao3

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with heart in my hand

“Theo?” Stiles hovers his hand over his gun, heart hammering in his chest as the door falls closes with a soft click. Thanks to his job, he’s walked into too many homes that look like a crime scene — he just didn’t expect to walk into his own apartment looking the same. His clothes and other belongings are everywhere, bookshelves completely empty. There are drawers yanked out of dressers. His kitchen cupboards are opened. Someone even went through his pots and pans. The pillows on his couch have been sliced open. His mattress, Stiles realizes, has suffered the same fate as it leans against the railing of his loft, threatening to topple over. His TV is gone, but his laptop is still sitting on the desk on the corner of the room — the only place seemingly untouched.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Stiles pulls his gun out. “Theo?” He calls again, gaze darting from the closed bathroom door to the loft area. The mattress is blocking his view. Just today he was called to two break-ins, and as high as his adrenaline was during those times, his hands weren’t sweaty, and they certainly weren’t shaking. But this is different. This is his home, his life, and his boyfriend on the line. “Theo!” Even his voice is shaking, and Stiles wants to kick himself for it. Panicking doesn’t help, especially not when the intruders can tell he is.

Stiles carefully steps over a pair of shoes and a lonely boot, gaze darting back and forth between the mattress and the closed bathroom door. He’s not about to get jumped; not by hunters, supernatural assholes, or mundane criminals.

When he can finally see his bedroom area, it’s empty. The drawers have been ripped out of his nightstands. His lamps are on the ground, light bulbs most likely broken. Someone came into this place looking for something, and they were very determined to finding it.

But what?

Stiles doesn’t have anything valuable in his apartment. He’s not stupid enough to keep his supernatural artifact in a place where his colleagues from work are hanging out, sometimes with their nosy toddlers — and no one besides Theo know he’s rented a storage room for it. Unless someone figured it out? But how? And how did they learn where Stiles lives? He’s careful, and he went the extra mile to secure this place with magic.

Witches?

“Theo?” Stiles asks, his heart pumping fear through his body with every beat. Fuck his apartment. He can move. He can replace shit, but if someone dared to touch Theo— Stiles shakes his head. No. Absolutely not. Theo is going to be fine. Maybe he just stepped out to grab some food. He didn’t seem too thrilled about cooking earlier today.

Stepping over books and shoes and a bunch of apples, Stiles slowly makes his way towards his bathroom. The main reason he rented this place is that there are no spaces to hide besides the bathroom. He could shoot first and ask questions later, that is always an option, but if they’re not crouching behind the door like an idiot, all he does is alert everyone on his floor and waste bullets he may later need.

When he passes his desk, his gaze catches on things that are very clearly not his belongings. “What the fuck?” he breathes, his voice eerily loud in the heavy silence of the apartment. Handcuffs — not the fun kind — a gag, and an empty vial of… something. Stiles reaches for it, panic chocking him slowly. He brushes his thumb over the blue letters. Diazepam.

Great.

He’s been running out of nightmare fuel anyway.

The good news is, however, that it wouldn’t do anything to Theo. If someone did inject him with this shit, all they did was make him very angry. Bad news? An overdose will knock him on his ass very quickly.

Stiles drops the vial and aims the gun at his bathroom door again. He should shoot. Waltzing in there is an unnecessary risk. Stiles licks his lips, finger itching to pull the trigger. “Come out, come out wherever you are,” he mutters, more to himself than whoever is waiting to jump him behind that door.

Without warning, his apartment is plunged into darkness. Stiles whips around, aiming his gun to where he knows his light switch is. Before he’s even got the chance to shoot, someone crashes into him. The back of his head bounces off the hard wooden flooring. Stiles groans as pain explodes in his skull. The impact sends his gun flying, and by sheer fucking luck, there’s no shot going off.

A cool leather glove his covering his mouth as a needle sinks into his neck.

The pain barely registers, but the panic snaps him out of his haze. One minute. Stiles remembers everything he read on Diazepam during a case he worked two months ago. This shit is going to work in one to three minutes. Barely enough time to fight them off and get away. But Stiles isn’t going to give up.

He moves his left hand, inch by inch, feeling for anything he can use to hit their head — and luck is on his side. His little finger bumps into the fruit bowl. It’s made out of glass and sturdy enough to do some damage. He curls his fingers around it and slams it against their head with as much might as he can.

Stiles hears a pained groan mere heartbeats before the grip on him loosens. Gathering all his strength, he shoves the person off him and rolls onto his stomach. His world tips around him, even in the dark. A wave of nausea rolls over him as he struggles to his feet. The ground is unsteady underneath him, and Stiles stumbles, flailing his arms to fight for balance. His ears are ringing.

He’s not going to make it out of here.

No.

Stiles shakes his head. The movement makes him nearly throw up and lose his balance. All his attention is zeroed in on the sheen of light coming from the ajar front door. That’s his way out. If he manages to get there— but the first step makes him loose his balance again. His concussion makes it impossible to walk. Or maybe it’s the drug. How much time has passed?

Or maybe it’s both.

He just needs to—

--- --- ---

Consciousness creeps up on him, slow, sluggish, a snail on its way to an unknown goal. It’s hard to stay awake, even harder to figure out if he’s passed out again. The room is dark all the time. At least, he thinks it is. Maybe he hasn’t opened his eyes yet. What time is it? What day is it?

Stiles blinks his eyes open.

Soft rays of sunshine are painting the ceiling with peaceful strokes, yet something about them makes dread pool in Stiles’ stomach. Unease pushes into his veins, taking over every inch of his body and quenches the exhaustion. With every tick of a clock somewhere close by, Stiles becomes more and more awake – and more and more aware.

This isn’t his home.

Because someone kidnapped him.

His heart lurches in his chest as panic takes hold of him. It’s not just the presence of a window that’s wrong. The mattress is too soft, the blankets too thick. It’s too warm.

There is someone lying right next to him. Asleep, judging by the sound of their soft breathing. What the fuck is going on? Who- Stiles doesn’t have a stalker. Right? Theo would’ve surely noticed if someone were following him. He did last time.

And what happened to Theo?

Okay, one step at a time.

Stiles turns his head to the side. There’s an alarm clock on his side of the nightstand, bright red numbers informing him that it’s 7:23 am. Next to the alarm clock is a lamp. That’s going to be helpful. Stiles reaches for it, curling his fingers around the cool metal, and slowly inches closer and closer to the edge of the mattress. It’s best to just take the lamp with him. Maybe he can get out of here without waking the freak that kidnapped him in the first place. But- but who is it?

His fear is stifled by reason. If he leaves, and he doesn’t get a face of a name, what’s stopping them from doing it again? The address won’t be enough. They might be long gone when the police arrive, and Stiles isn’t planning on waiting around. The more he wakes up, the worse the pain gets in his head. That’s a concussion. Someone gave him a fucking concussion and then drugged him... only to do what? Play happy family?

Stiles grinds his teeth and turns around again. The person is mostly blanketed by the darkness of the room and facing away from him. Should he turn on the light? Sneak around the bed? Should he-

“I can feel you staring at me.”

Light floods the room, and Stiles covers his eyes with a groan. His grip tightens around the lamp. He yanks it off the nightstand. For a second, there’s resistance but the then cable gives and Stiles is willing to swing it at everything that moves.

A hand clasps around his arm before the lamp connects with anything, however. “I still have a headache from the fruit bowl.”

Stiles freezes. His whole world stops, zeroing in on the sound of the all too familiar voice despite his head screaming at him. “What the-” Stiles open his eyes, sucking in a deep breath as his gaze falls upon none other than Theo “-fuck?” he finishes, yanking his arm back. The lamp hovers above his head, knuckles turning white as he debates to hit his boyfriend over the head with it anyway. “What the fuck?” he repeats because saying it once doesn’t put nearly enough emphasis on how much he wants to whack him with this lamp.

“Okay.” Theo gets onto his knees, hands raised almost defensively. “Before you get mad-”

“Before I get mad? Theo, I am mad.” Stiles slams the lamp back onto the nightstand and crosses his arms. At this point, he’s ready to do worse than hit him with a goddamn lamp. Strangling him sounds like a wonderful alternative. “What the fuck were you thinking? Are you insane?”

Theo scoots closer to his side of the bed. “I thought you like that about me.” The guy actually has the nerve to look amused after scaring the living hell out of Stiles, give him a concussion and drug him. Neither his smile, not his body – beautifully on display and only wearing boxer briefs that leave nothing to the imagination – can get him out of this easily. He knew Theo’s ideas are usually a little different, but this is taking the cake.

Sucking in a breath, Stiles glares at him. “If this is your idea of a practical joke-” Because he is not in the mood, not with his head feeling as if someone’s using at as a fucking trampoline. He needs pain meds, or a doctor; actually, a visit to the ER sounds great after a fucking overdose and a concussion. That’s going to be fun to explain.

“In my defense, it was your dad’s idea.”

Stiles stares at him. That is a joke. Theo cannot be serious. “Dad told you to turn my apartment into a crime scene and kidnap me?” While his dad’s humor can be quite questionable at times, this does not at all sound like him. Never, in a million years, has any of this been his dad’s idea.

Theo runs his hand over the back of his neck. “Well...”

Closing his eyes, Stiles sinks back into the pillows. “You better have a very good explanation for this.” Although what could explain kidnapping him? Sure, they’ve role-played before, and it’s not like they’re kinks are necessarily something a lot of people are into — probably, it’s not like he knows. But using actual drugs? Giving him a concussion? That’s not like Theo.

“If you let me talk.” Theo flicks something against his chest.

Stiles squints down at his lap. Tylenol. Good.

Offering him a bottle of water, Theo watches him with his brows raised expectantly. “As I was saying—”

Snatching the bottle of water from him, Stiles shoots him a look. As he was saying, yeah, right.

“I wanted to make it official.” Theo visibly deflates, shoulders hunching slightly as his gaze drag from Stiles’ face to the Tylenol between his fingers. His face darkens, eyes narrowing slightly. For a few seconds, it seems that he’s far away, somewhere deep in the corners of a memory that refuses to let go of him. “I’m not going to hide us any longer.” Without warning, he gets off the bed and starts pacing the room, his shoulders a tense line.

Stiles cannot tell if it’s the concussion, or if Theo is just not making any sense. It’s true that not everyone knew about their relationship. His dad does, so do Kira and Lydia, but for the sake of keeping the piece within their packs, Stiles and Theo decided that it’s easier to pretend they’re merely getting along. They’re both good enough actors that nobody noticed anything or over a year. “So, you kidnapped me to…” he trails off, hoping Theo would fill in the gap.

“He threatened to kick me off his territory,” Theo snaps, eyes flashing yellow as he struggles to control his anger. There aren’t many people who could piss him off like that, and there is only one person who would have the ability to essentially exile Theo.

“And instead of talking to me about it…” Stiles shakes his head, instantly regretting the movement, and decides to take the Tylenol at last.

Theo lets out a long breath. “I was scared.”

Stiles snaps his head up, staring at Theo in bewilderment. Those three words aren’t something his boyfriend would throw around lightly. “Babe-”

But Theo doesn’t seem to hear him. He’s standing still, looking strangely lost as he continues talking, “I had it planned out. I talked to your dad. I talked to Lydia about the ring. I bought a ring.”

“A ring?” Stiles echoes before he can stop himself. They’ve been dating a year, why would Theo- his heart leaps into his throat. I wanted to make it official. Theo wasn’t just talking about telling everyone about their relationship. Stiles swallows and sits up straighter. “Theo, why didn’t you come talk to me?” he asks, patting the bed. They’re usually pretty good when it comes to communication, which honestly surprised Stiles more than anyone else. They work, perfectly, and it’s not even mad that Theo staged a very real kidnapping, it’s that he didn’t talk to him about it beforehand.

Which probably says more about him than he’d like to admit.

“I wanted it to be perfect!” Theo throws his hands in the air, frustration returning in full force. “I asked your dad for your hand first, of course.” Of course. Theo acts like it’s normal. Sure, there are still a lot of traditional people out there, and it is a sweet gesture, Stiles can’t deny that. He still didn’t expect it. Not from Theo. “Then I went to Scott. I tried to bury the hatched for you. Lydia helped me talk to him. We told him about our plans, but he said ‘no’.” Their eyes met, and Stiles can see the same fury burn that must have enveloped Theo when he decided to take what he considers his and make a run for it. “And that it’s time for me to leave his territory.” His hands are curled into tight fists, but his shoulders slump, and he bows his head, staring at the ground with a suddenly unreadable expression.

Stiles lets out a breath. His concussion doesn’t exactly make it easy to think. “Well,” he says slowly, drawing his brows together, “I’m glad to hear a kidnapping wasn’t in the original proposal plans.” He massages his temple, waiting for the Tylenol to set in quickly so he can focus on Theo alone instead of having to deal with this pounding headache on top of everything else. “Or giving me a concussion for that matter.”

“You broke a fruit bowl over my head.”

“Because you gave me a concussion!” Stiles raises his hands in defensive. They’re going to go in circles. Theo isn’t any less stubborn than he is. The only reason for Stiles’ winning most of the time is that Theo is insanely easily distracted by the prospect of sex. Not that Stiles is much better, but he does have the edge – at least for a little while. “Still… why didn’t you just talk to me?” The one thing Theo might love almost as much as Stiles is complaining about Scott’s incompetence. So, it doesn’t make any sense that he’d keep this to himself. None whatsoever.

Theo runs a hand over his face and pulls his shoulders up for the slowest shrug this side of the universe. “I panicked,” he says, having the nerve to sound mad about it.

“Because Scott told you to get lost?” Stiles squints at his boyfriend. It’s hard to tell if Theo doesn’t make any sense, or if his concussion makes his fail to see it. “He does that twice a week, and you laugh in his face. I don’t get-“

Theo shoots him a look, cutting Stiles off mid-sentence. It’s impossible who he’s angry at – himself for overreacting, Stiles for not getting it, or Scott for having the audacity to try and order him around. Not a single possibility makes a lick of sense. “He told me to leave you!” Theo snaps, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

Stiles blinks, staring at his boyfriend in bewilderment. “You think I care?” If he weren’t so utterly baffled by Theo’s words, he’d point out that Scott and he haven’t been the same since long before Theo returned to Beacon Hills. It doesn’t matter to him what Scott thinks. He certainly wouldn’t be dating Theo if that were the case. Plus, as a human, no alpha can boss him around. “Last time I checked, I decide who I’m going to marry.”

For a few heartbeats, Theo doesn’t say anything. His wide blue eyes are fixed on him, almost contemplating. What’s going on in his head is anybody’s guess, but the smile tugging on the corner of his mouth is almost sheepish. Theo releases a breath and crosses the room. “I panicked,” he repeats. An explanation, not an apology. He might not apologize at all.

Stiles doesn’t expect one. Sighing, he lifts his blanket and shakes his head as Theo crawls on top of him. “You’re an idiot,” Stiles tells him. “Talk to me before you kidnap me next time.”

A chuckle ripple through Theo’s body. He wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist. “Fine,” he whispers, leaning his head against his chest. It's probably not the most comfortable position, but Stiles isn’t about to argue. “Next time I’ll make sure to get your consent before I kidnap you.”

“That’s not-“ Stiles lets out a breath. There’s not really any point in arguing. “You’re impossible.”

Theo laughs again, it’s soft and gentle, and a sound to fall in love with. “But you’re going to marry me anyway.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles bends down to kiss the top of Theo’s head softly. “Yeah,” he breathes, almost a little surprised how sure he felt about his answer. They might not have dated for long, but he’s not doubting his decision at all. “But only if I get the proposal you planned with Lydia.”

Theo tightens his embrace for all but a second. “And a ring.”

“I love you.” Stiles runs his fingers through Theo’s hair.

“I love you too.”

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

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wellhalesbells · 19 days

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20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @piratefalls! Yay, wasting time - I've been doing so much of that today and thank you for giving me another way to! (Seriously, I would've just been watching more Youtube compilations without you.) That's probably why these answers are so long. Procrastination? Wellllll don't mind if I do!

How many works do you have on ao3? 154

What's your total ao3 word count?

1,280,205

What fandoms do you write for?

Primarily Teen Wolf and Harry Potter. HP was my original homeslice and I kind of sharpened my teeth on fic-writing in general there, found what I liked and didn't like, how to engage with fandom, what I found attractive and what turned me off (for characters and plot beats), honed my craft and made my mistakes there and then with the advent of AO3 and the finding of Teen Wolf, I feel like I blossomed and built a home and am hopefully making fewer oopsiedoosles. Though I have also written a fic or so for: Hannibal, The Meg, Mr. Robot, X-Men, Star Trek, and Breaking Bad.

Top five fics by kudos:

There's Monsters at Home, Sterek, Teen Wolf. (15,285)

Time to Eternity, Drarry, Harry Potter. (8,416)

Option C) Some Bad Guys are Werewolves, but Not All Werewolves are Bad Guys, Sterek, Teen Wolf. (7,759)

Of Bananas, Babies and Buzzkills, Sterek, Teen Wolf. (5,134)

Instructions for Dancing, Sterek, Teen Wolf. (5,099)

Do you respond to comments?

Not anymore. Occasionally one that asks a direct question I'll answer, if that answer isn't already somewhere on or in the fic.

Though the last one I answered was someone who didn't read my tags or notes, telling me I didn't warn for something that was in the tags and notes, and I was so polite, like, "How can I make this clearer?" instead of saying, "#!@%^&$@$@#^$%&$^&^&$%^@#$%" like I fucking wanted to and they then said: "Oh yeah, I didn't read any of that, guess you don't need to change anything." Which was exactly what I expected would happen and I took the time to answer because I want more than anything to teach that person a lesson, even though I am absolutely certain they learned nothing from the interaction. But I tried, I did my part, and I wasn't even an asshole about it. (Please, please, please, the amount of times I've been told in the snarkiest damn fashion to tag for something that is already fucking tagged...... like, how do I have to say: read the tags before snidely chastising me for what isn't in them?? And it's not like.... I used different language or anything, they will ask me to tag for the EXACT DAMN TAG already on the fic. My collection of these comments is genuinely getting out of hand.)

And there is one I kind of want to answer that I got in the last month or so because it's one of the nicest and most vulnerable things I've ever been told but there aren't enough letters, or strong enough ones, or big enough ones to hold all the gratitude and care that wants to pour into them so I just... haven't.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hrm, I think these are just the most obvious of those and if I actually had to sit with this and go through my catalogue of fic, I would come up with a way more off-center answer because the angst is much subtler but harder hitting but that sounds like it would take brain power and, wow, is it that late already *coughs*

Either I Smoke My Friends Down to the Filter or But the Mess Prevails. I think maybe the latter because it's kind of triumphant in ISMFDttF, Stiles stands up for himself, but in BtMP they both want to be together but it's just another way for Derek to punish himself if they are.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Similar caveat to the one above as I'm not really focusing on ending (because more brain power) as much as just happy overall. Either [Hilary Duff Lyric Redacted] or Instructions for Dancing - they are both just fluff bombs almost entirely from start to finish.

Do you get hate on fics?

Mostly no. There's one fic that I have comments turned off on (THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS FUNCTION, AO3, 10000000% THIS FIC WOULD NOT STILL EXIST IF NOT FOR YOU) because people would yell things at me I already explicitly stated I agreed with? Like I wrote a fic for a fest (back when I wrote in a lot fests, lol), it was a dark prompt and I can't remember if the prompter wanted a happy ending or if it was a stipulation of the fest that it couldn't end badly but it's a dark prompt so while I could get the two characters to the point of co-parenting, I did not get them back together. And the comments I mainly got were: how dare you get them the fuck back together? To which I was like: um, I didn't, also if I was forced to keep going with this fic, this character would end up with this one instead. And then I got a deluge of comments that were like: how dare you get them back together!? And for a while, I explained that you read into it, which is understandable as - to satisfy whomever's requirement - it is an impression I wanted you to walk away with, but as you'll notice at no point are they back together or romantically involved again, they're in the same room and have reached a ceasefire, that's it. And that's as friendly as I see that relationship getting, and no one read any of that and kept yelling at me for the same reason and mentally I was like: fuck all of you, either the fic goes or I do so I turned off the comments so I wouldn't delete it. I find since commenting is off (or "hidden" rather, I can still see it and have the option to approve or nuke it), people have to really engage with a) what I've already replied before and b) whether or not it's worth it to leave a review that will literally only be seen by me. Suddenly everyone has reading comprehension and no one is just yelling to yell because the only one you're engaging with is *jazz hands* me, and I am obviously not the audience for that.

Do you write smut?

Yep!

Craziest crossover:

I have a Hunger Games/TW one that is one of two unfinished fics on AO3 because every time I even think about it, it intimidates me. And since I don't read crossovers, I have no idea how you're supposed to do them or how much of the other IP you can take on without it seeming like you've just rewritten with different characters or how much you should change when everyone knows what you're working from anyway - it's all a mystery to me and I am flummoxed by it.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

People post my old HP shit that no longer exists on the internet to Wattpad quite a bit and I am not savvy enough to figure out how to get it down. The few times I've contacted people who posted it under my name to take it down, instead just remove my name and fully pretend it's theirs. On some, I've found the people on LJ who have saved the fic in question and are giving it out and quietly asked them to stop because they were ending up as stolen fic on Wattpad.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, many!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Em and I have started one but never finished - it's me, I'm Mr. Ambrose: "I start, I don't finish things."

All time favorite ship?

I think it's Stiles and Derek, man??? I don't know, I have a lot of niche ones too that I feel like if there were more content/interest, they would be it but there isn't sooooo....

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

That THG/TW fic - it scares me so much. Like, who was that confident girl who didn't understand things at all and was like: yeah, that's fine? Don't know her. PvW - I have a lot written in the future and for the next chapter, plus an outline, it's just a matter of getting my attention to stay on it and I have the next chapter of WDHGsGA written and an outline for the next two, I just don't want to post it until it's totally finished so I don't have to worry about losing the atmosphere/tone again and, again, I just have to get my focus back to it but the chances of me letting that writing go totally down the drain? Unlikely.

What are your writing strengths?

Um, I think I have a good understanding of how humans work. I think writing is definitely made a lot easier when you have a handle on the psychology and a gut sense for people. It's not hard to craft fake scenarios when you have a pretty decent understanding of how people would react in them.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Grammar-wise, commas throw me completely. I have no idea where they're supposed to go and I do my best, okay?! I really only got Florida public school education on this and it was: wherever you feel like you should have one, do that.

More generally, I also feel like I don't have the same needs to satisfy as a large percentage of readers - I need a relationship at the core of a fic to feel significant and weighty to want to write a story about it, but that doesn't mean it needs to survive to the end of said fic or that characters need to hit certain relationship milestones for it to feel worthwhile to me. I think this sometimes leads me to endings that some people feel are unsatisfying because I got what I needed but maybe some readers didn't?

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Totally neutral. Doesn't bother or thrill me to any extent.

First fandom you wrote in?

Harry Potter.

Favorite fic you've written?

Favorite? That's hard. I'm, as mentioned, super shitty at finishing things so the fact that TMaH is completed - even without going into any of its content (all of which is made to order, absolutely my favorite stuff) - makes it a top contender.

I also still really love A Fine Foray into Fashionable Fellatio, the last Harry Potter fic I wrote, which was Draco/Ron. I love that to kick my brain into gear, I would start mentally painting the scenes, from oranges and reds to beiges and cool winter blues - I don't know I've ever used color so much in anything. It hasn't worked since and I think it's because - having been away from those characters and that fandom for so long - I had such a crystal clear image of them and because Draco, especially, was so different from how he's usually pictured in fic/fanart (curly-haired, absolutely swank as fuck Muggle style) that the lines were so defined it was easy to paint within them.

And I think my favorite writing piece right now is He Speaks in Petals. It's such a short fic and I reread it in the last year or so and it's so much more lyrical than I remember. I knew that was what I was going for and I did not think I managed it but it's got some really soft, kind whimsy to it that I like a lot and find very calming and reaffirming.

No pressure tagging @kikiroo, @rosieposiepuddingnpie, @literaryoblivion, @yodas-yo-yo, @clotpolesonly, @callunavulgari, @andavs, @i-sveikata, @alocalband !

#sterek #drarry #dron #teen wolf #harry potter #my writing #meme #meme answers #thanks for the tag kel!#i probably talked way too much on here but like...... i really am just a ball of DOING NOTHING on my couch today soooo

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sugareey-makes-stuff · 11 months

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Krissy!! For fic rec asks: 👀 💯

Hi Danni! Since I've been reading fic whenever I do have the time and bouncing between Harry Potter and Teen Wolf, I'll leave a rec from each fandom for each question. Those who know me well know I love my hurt/comfort and angst, so here are my recs:

👀 A fic that you love a normal amount Uhhhh, what? Do I really have one of those? Okay maybe I'll treat this as what is a fic I can just be happy about.

>> HP: A Journey Home by edelweissmar (Perciver, T, 28k) is a classic reread for me. I love it because it's such a unique take on things post-war, and Percy and Oliver discover that they're each other's anchors in a way, despite the challenges they face. Oliver is so determined to never give up, and Percy learns to let go of his guilt, love himself and let someone love him. This fic is a beautiful tale, and it doesn't shy away from family drama and all the damage the war has caused for everyone. People are flawed, it's 1000% possible for them to embrace that. >> TW: Written in the Stars by Quixoticity (Sterek, M, 26.6k) is a fic I am totally happy to read and love because it's about soulmates and tattoos, and I love the approach that was taken to explore the path of two people getting to know each other rather than being obligated by marks. What if feelings and a relationship were sparked by choice rather than expectations? What if the romance and attraction between Stiles and Derek was genuine. Yes, yes, yes to all of this. It's sweet and angsty with pining, and I'm glad they eventually use their words and figure things out for themselves.

💯 A fic that makes you think #writergoals >> HP: I basically love agentmoppet's fics, and Like Clockwork (Drarry, E, 39.3k) legit checks all my boxes. But also: this fic has such amazing worldbuilding especially behind how magic works, cursebreaking, and gosh, I am so impressed with this case fic since I definitely cannot write those. I love the banter between Harry and Draco (especially Draco's sass), because every time I reread this fic, it makes me realize why I love these characters so much with their feelings and ridiculous tension. Also, dreams and tricky spellwork! >> TW: OKAY. So I just finished The Moon's Gonna Follow Me Home by turningterrific (Sterek, E, 82.9k) and holy crap! Amazing. It's heartbreaking, gorgeous, addresses mental health, healing and it's something I just really needed right now. There's worldbuilding, OCs that I've grown to love, and the way Stiles and Derek come together again is the perfect slow burn, I can probably scream about it all day. And I probably will in a separate rec post, because this is a fic that flows so well, it pulls at emotions, and gods, it would be so awesome to write like this. Like, how?!! ANYWAY.

Thanks for the asks! ___ Want to ask more q's? Send some over from the fic recs ask meme!

#asked and answered #drarry #perciver #sterek #fic recs ask meme #ask meme #about me #hp fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #rec lists #fic recs #sugareey recs things

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babeyvenus · 2 years

Text

My Future

Derek Hale x OC

Samantha, Stiles and Scott are always joking about the impossible. Who wouldn't when your best friend's dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills? All jokes stop when they realize the impossible is indeed possible.

Chapter 48: Family and Hell

Sam headed back inside the building and looked for Theo who hissed, holding his cut side in pain. "You still with us, Raeken?", she asked, walking up to him.

He scoffed. "Last name basis, now?" She rolled her eyes, crouching near him. "Just tell me you wanna get killed first and I'll hand you to the beast if it'll make you feel better.", she says, sarcastically.

He grunted, trying to sit up on the wall. "Lemme see.", Sam said, reluctantly.

He looked at her before removing his bloody hand, showing her a gash. She grimaced and hovered her glowing hand above his wound, helping him heal.

He watched in astonishment once she finished, feeling sore in her own side before feeling the pain subside.

He looked up at her as she looked at him with a frown. "That's what you've been missing out on. If you played nice, you'd probably learn more about me than you do now.", she said, standing up.

Theo looked down before getting up. She turned away from him, ready to walk away. "We just...", she sighed. She paused. "I just wish you did better.", she says, before turning around to face him.

"We probably need you on our team more than you need us. But that doesn't make you boss. That just makes you a part of the pack. If you used your abilities the right way instead of just using them for being an overlord or whatever you were gonna call yourself.", Sam said then left the Raeken boy.

"Sam!", Scott called. She ran up to him, pausing as she caught Tracy. "Shit."

"So, you're alive.", Tracy frowned.

"Guess electricity doesn't knock you out for long, huh?", Sam scoffed and ran after Scott who rushed over to Liam.

Scott and Liam picked up the Surgeon and looked at Sam. "Is he…?", she grimaced.

"He's still alive.", Scott nodded. "We're taking him to Deaton."

Sam nodded, following Scott and Liam to the Animal Clinic.

The Surgeon was laid out on the table and the pack surrounded him. Deaton looked over the doctor, examining the head while Scott and Stiles stood on the one side as Liam and Sam stood on the opposite side.

"Can you keep him alive?" Scott questioned Deaton. "I'm not sure he technically is alive." Deaton said.

"Screw keeping him alive.", Liam uttered. "How do we get him to talk?"

"Personally, I don't think we utilize torture nearly enough.", Stiles retorted. "Stiles.", Sam warned with raised eyebrows.

Stiles let out a small huff.

"Wait. Did you hear that?", Liam asked and they looked at him before the older werewolves began to hear a ringing in their ears that got louder.

Sam covered her ears. "What's going on?", Stiles asked, confused. The ringing got deafeningly and painfully louder, causing Sam to drop to a knee. What the hell was this noise??

"It's Sebastien.", Scott whispered. "He's calling out to–"

Sam let out a loud, painful yell and the Surgeon shot up on the table, emitting his frequency. Everyone had their ears covered from the loud noises.

The tables rattled and the floor shook as the Surgeon jumped off the table, standing up and headed for the door. Liam uncovered his ears, instantly chasing after the doctor.

"Liam, wait!", Scott yelled and Sam reached for Liam but the Surgeon whipped his hand back that created a force wave and Liam flew back into Sam.

They both covered their ears, thrashing on the floor as the surgeon escaped.

As the noise decreased, Stiles ran to Sam and took her in his arms, as she groaned. "You okay?", Stiles asked.

Sam let out a panting sigh. "I hate those doctors."

"The cane.", Scott whispered.

"They got the cane.", Liam said "What?" Stiles frowned as well as Sam.

"The pike was the cane that he had and Argent and Gerard took it.", Scott stated.

Sam got up. "Then that means that Sebastien wants it and he's gonna track it down."

With that, Scott starting looking through Mason's files. "Maybe there's something in here. Something about how he was a Genetic Chimera."

"Mason had a vanishing twin.", Deaton nodded.

"Now we've got a vanishing Mason.", Stiles complained.

"A vanishing twin?", Sam asked. "He ate his twin.", Deaton summed. Sam grimaced. God.

Liam shrugged. "What does that have to do with him turning into a 250-year-old French guy? How does that even happen?"

"Scott might have something.", Deaton said "Mason's twin wasn't entirely gone. That's what made him a Genetic Chimera."

"The DNA was still there.", Scott said in realization.

"Metaphorically speaking, the DNA of Mason could still be inside Sebastien as well."

"How?" Stiles furrowed his brow.

"Energy.", Sam suggested.

"Sam's right. Life is energy. Energy doesn't just disappear. The Dread Doctors may have found a way to break the rules of the supernatural world but there are some rules that simply won't break.", Deaton explained.

"So Mason can't just be gone?", Liam asked.

"Somewhere in Sebastien he has to still exist in some form. A spark of energy, a flicker of memory."

Stiles picked up the Surgeon's mask, eyeing it. "Hang on... Liam, you said Mason said something right before he turned."

"Yeah.", Liam said. "He said, "That's not my name'." Sam said.

Scott nodded. "He finally remembered his name." "Damnatio Memoriae.", Stiles said.

"That's what they wanted. They wanted Sebastien to remember his name.", Liam nodded.

"That was enough for them.", Sam said. "We called him Mason. Kept calling him Mason and he just… he wasn't having it."

Deaton looked at Scott. "Scott, you know the myth of what happens when you call a werewolf by its given name?"

"It turns back to human."

"What does that mean?", Liam asked. "Someone can just walk up to the Beast, yell Mason's name and turn him back?"

"Not just someone..."

"It's gotta be Lydia.", Sam said.

Stiles nodded. "We'll get her."

The teen split up, and Sam went after the Surgeon. She managed to sense where the doctor was and saw a man's head instead.

She walked up to it to see a ghostly pale, clammy face that had indents of old stitches in it. She gave it a nudge with her foot, causing the one good eye to look up at her.

"The beast…. has been created.", he rasped.

Sam frowned. "What was the purpose? What were you trying to gain from this?"

The man took in a raspy breath. "I…." Black blood dripped out of his mouth. His death was approaching. "I owed a friend a favor."

She tilted her head in confusion before letting out a soft breath of realization. "You're Marcel."

The surgeon nodded. Sam shook her head. "You brought him back. Why?" The man hadn't answered. "How do we stop him from hurting anyone else? He's uncontrollable.", Sam pressed.

"You can defeat him…with the pike.", he answered. "Just as the banshee must wield her scream..and the hellhound wields its fire." As he gave a final sigh, he finally died.

Sam walked away heading for the police station. In the sheriff's office, sebastien sat in front of sheriff stilinski's desk and the sheriff put away his phone after getting Stiles' messages, explaining the problems. The older Stilinski looked at Sebastien. "You're looking for one of the argents?"

Sebastien looked at him with amused eyes. "You seem to know who I am. That means you know what I'm capable of."

"I've got some experience.", the sheriff agreed.

"Your weapons may be more sophisticated than the arrows and the bullets of my time, but they still won't kill me.", Sebastien determined.

The sheriff reached into his holster, took out his gun and sat it down on his desk as he stared at Sebastien, certain of himself. "I'm pretty sure a nine millimeter beretta will do more damage than an 18th century musket."

Sebastien set his jaw, eyeing the gun before looking at the sheriff. "Are you certain? I can walk out of this place with my hands clean. Or, I can walk out with them drenched in blood.", he said, with raised eyebrows. "Your choice."

Sebastien stood up and the sheriff did as well, preparing for any attack.

The deputy outside the office noticed the commotion and busted in the office. "Sir?", the deputy looked at her supervisor.

"Clarke, don't." Sheriff held his hand up to stop her. Sebastien glared at Clarke and she glared at him. "Stop where you are."

His eyes immediately illuminated in a blue light and his fangs protruded from his lips. "Let him go.", the sheriff ordered but the deputy whipped out her gun, aiming at Sebastien, making him let out a growl as he pounded at her. Both authorities shot off their guns.

Lydia, who was already at the sheriff's office, heard the guns go off, fearing what was to come. Lydia left the room she stayed in and watched as Sebastien turned towards her and growled. He ran over, ready to strike his long claws into her throat.

Before he could harm her any deeper, Lydia let out her best screech, making him stumble back. She raised her hands, pushing the force of her scream to make him fly back into the wall.

Hayden arrived and saw his form, making her step away in fear. Sebastien glanced down at his claws, seeing Lydia's blood on them and looked up at her to see her holding her bloody neck. Lydia's eyes fluttered as she dropped to her knees.

His eyes then roamed up to Hayden and he stood, huffing. "Hayden. Your name is Hayden." Before he could attack anyone else, Sam busted in the sheriff's office, partially shifted as she let out a growl.

She looked to see a bloody Lydia and knelt down to her. "Hey. Hey!", she carried Lydia into her arms as she glanced at Sebastien who took Hayden. "Shit."

"Sam.", the girl looked up to see the sheriff. "We gotta get her to the hospital." Sam nodded and carried her out to the van.

On the way to the hospital, Sam made sure to heal anything that could fatally kill Lydia before arriving. At least, she'd be able to get some rest.

Sam helped Lydia out of the van and into the hospital, coming straight for Melissa. "We need help! It's Lydia."

The woman got more nurses to help Lydia onto a stretcher and into a room. "What happened?", Melissa asked Sam. Sam sighed. "The usual."

Scott, Stiles, and Liam had arrived at the hospital, and Melissa gave a rundown of Lydia's condition.

After that, Scott, Sam and Liam waited out in the hall while Stiles stayed with Lydia. "Is she okay?", Liam asked. "She's gonna be fine, but... She can't really talk.", Scott said.

Liam nodded. "Then it's over, isn't it?" He frowned, growing upset. "There's nothing we can do to save him."

Sam looked at the boy sadly. "Liam…"

Scott picked up his phone, receiving multiple voicemails from Kira and walked away to listen to them. Liam sighed sadly. They were running out of time and he was gradually losing his friend.

It hurt.

Sam looked at the boy and brought him into a hug. "I'm sorry. I wish we had more time to get him.", she mumbled. He hugged her back. "I just… I wish I knew earlier."

Sam pulled away to look at him. "Hey, there's nothing you could've done. You weren't even supposed to be dragged into supernatural things. You're still new to this, there's just some things you might not know or not be prepared for. But we got you anyways.", she reassured.

Liam looked down. "Scott… Scott told me you revived someone. Could you do that in case we do lose Mason? In case… I do?", he asked.

Sam frowned sadly. "It only works if I take someone's life. I was only able to revive him because I helped kill the Nogitsune. It would've probably worked if I had killed Kate, but I couldn't. It's not always easy. Trust me."

She put a hand on his shoulder, making him look at her. "We're gonna get this done. We'll save Mason. Okay?" Liam sighed and nodded before being brought into another hug.

They pulled away once Scott came back. "C'mon."

Liam and Sam looked confused. "Why?"

"Because I've got an idea. And because this isn't over.", he determined and his betas followed after him, entering Lydia's room.

Scott pulled his mom aside to talk to her and Sam went over to Stiles. "How's she doing?", she asked. "She's stable. Scott's mom said she got lucky."

Sam nodded.

Scott had told them his plan and his pack nodded. Liam and Scott helped Lydia sit up as Melissa walked over to her. "Lydia, this is gonna have to be just between us, because I could get fired for it."

Melissa took out a syringe filled with a liquid.

"It's a cortisone shot. It's gonna bring the inflammation down," Scott stated as his mom took off the cap to reveal the huge needle.

Scott's betas instantly tensed up, getting nervous themselves, while Lydia weakly nodded, taking out her arm from under the covers. "Not there.", Melissa said and reached for the bandage patch that was on Lydia's neck. She peels back the one top part and Lydia groans in pain.

Stiles nodded. "Oh, yeah, okay, I'm gonna need to leave."

"You're not going anywhere.", Melissa instructed. "Hold her hand."

"Okay, fine." He huffed. "I'm not leaving, but I still might faint.", he complained.

Melissa took a breath. "Okay. Here we go." She aimed the needle to her neck and before she could insert it, they paused at the sound of a thud.

They turned around and saw that Liam had passed out. Sam shook her head and picked him up as Melissa continued.

After everything settled and got Lydia dressed up, they quickly left the hospital. "Okay. I'll get Malia. Text me when you find Parrish.", Stiles said, getting ready to go.

"Hold on.", Scott stopped him and reached into his pocket, handing Stiles a brown paper bag.

"What is this?", Stiles asked, confused.

"Something I've been working on for a while. Just make sure Malia gets it.", Scott said.

Stiles nodded. "Is it plan B?"

"It was plan A."

"Plan A never works.", Stiles frowned.

"This is gonna work.", Sam said, making the boys look at her. "It has to. We haven't exactly failed before. We're gonna finish this."

Scott nodded and left with Liam and Lydia. Stiles and Sam arrived at the house, and hopped out of the Jeep, running up to the front of the house.

Stiles quickly swung the door open and stopped, making Sam frown and look over his shoulder.

Malia was standing on the staircase with her fangs bared while her mother was on the opposite side, pointing her gun directly at Stiles and Sam. "Ah, damn.", Stiles mumbled, shaking his head.

Before the bullet could hit either of the two, Sam put up a barrier and pushed it toward the woman. Sam huffed and looked around, her eyes catching Malia. "You okay?", she asked. Malia nodded.

"Yeah– look out!", Stiles takes Sam in his arms, ducking her out of the way as Corrine attacks Malia.

They ducked as Malia groaned, clattering on the glass coffee table, causing it to shatter.

Corinne threw Malia into the wall, and glared at her. Sam and Stiles watched as Corinne turned towards them, grinning. "You should've brought your bat.", Sam muttered, and shifted, growling at the woman.

"Hm. You're new.", Corrine said, turning to attack Sam. Before she could, Stiles moved in front of Sam, ready to send a punch to the woman. "No, you don't!"

Corrine dodged and backhanded him onto the floor, landing him in the shards of glass from the coffee table. "Stiles!", Sam exclaimed, not seeing him move.

Sam let out a loud growl, bringing the woman's shadow toward her before sending a punch in the woman's face, slamming her back against the wall next to Malia.

Stiles rolled over coughing and Sam rushed to him. "Hey.", she called, helping him on his back. Her eyes widened at the large glass shard in his shoulder. His blood was spreading fast. "Shit.", she muttered. He groaned. "Just get the talons.", Stiles said.

They jumped at the sound of a gunshot and saw Malia holding her bloodied shoulder as her mother aimed a pistol at her and continued to shoot.

Sam hurriedly got the talons, and looked at Malia. "Malia, catch!", Sam called, gaining the werecoyote's attention and threw the talons to her. Malia hurriedly caught the talons and put them onto her palm.

Her mother stormed over to her and plunged her claws into the girl's stomach as her eyes brightened blue.

Malia groaned, clenching her jaw tightly. "I want my power back!" Her mother growled.

Malia put the claws on and let the jar fall to the floor. Malia growled back and plunged her own claws into her mother's stomach, making the talons illuminate a pale blue color. Malia huffed as her blue eyes brightened more than before. "I want my family back.", she declared.

Corinne gasped, her glowing eyes dimmed as Malia removed her from the talons, making her stumble back. Braeden rushed behind her, and before Corrine could run, Braeden brought the butt of her shotgun and slammed it in her face, knocking her out.

Sam let out a sigh and gave Braeden a nod.

"Can someone please come and take this gigantic shard of glass out of my chest? Please?", Stiles said, making Sam chuckle and kneel down to him.

Sam placed a hand on his unharmed shoulder and looked at him as she reached for the shard. "Take a deep breath."

"On three.", Stiles said hurriedly. Sam rolled her eyes. "One."

"Two." Stiles let out a loud yell as Sam yanked it out. She hurriedly healed him as he whined. "We were supposed to go three.", he frowned.

Sam shook her head, helping him up.

After leaving the house, Sam, Stiles, Braeden and Malia were notified that the beast was finally taken care of and Theo was taken to hell by his dead sister who Kira revived.

"Dammit, I wish I could've seen that!", Sam complained. "You're so weird!", Stiles exclaimed as he drove them home.

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 1 year

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Discounts and Discomforts- Eddie Munson x OC

Eddie Munson x Misty Hawthorne

Description: Misty becomes insecure after learning that Eddie has been dealing to a very pretty girl.

Word Count: 1.4k

It was one of those rare days where Misty had decided to sit with the Hellfire Club at lunch. It had been a while since she had, and so she thought it would be nice to catch up with them and talk about their latest session (though she still couldn’t fully comprehend some aspects of the game). As usual, Eddie sat at the head of the table while Misty sat to his right, between him and Justin, one of the club members. Things were going well enough until Gareth and Jeff finally arrived at the table together, trays in hand.

“So Eddie,” Gareth greeted, sitting down on the other side of their leader. “Jeff here was just telling me that you’ve started dealing to Suzy Harmon.” Everyone at the table went quiet, the other club members looking at each other in shock while Misty’s eyes widened. Meanwhile, Mike and Dustin just looked confused.

“Who’s Suzy Harmon?” The latter asked.

“She was a super popular girl like two years ago,” Jeff explained.

“Like, head cheerleader before Chrissy Cinningham took that spot, class president and always threw amazing parties that everyone attended, type of popular,” Gareth added. “She was basically the ‘it’ girl, the Queen of Hawkins High.”

“She graduated before you guys even got to high school,” Misty concluded distractedly before looking at her boyfriend. “Since when are you dealing to her?”

“Since last month,” Eddie shrugged, finally speaking for the first time since Gareth had gotten there. “We meet every Tuesday. The real question should be why Jeff knows who I’ve been dealing to.” He shot his friend a pointed look, but Jeff just shrugged.

“My neighborhood is on the other side of the woods. Sometimes I just cut through them to get home quicker. I just happened to be nearby during your deal with her last week.” Eddie seemed to accept that answer based on the way his lips pursed as he nodded, and he continued eating. Misty was still confused, though.

“You started dealing to Suzy Harmon and you didn’t think to tell me?” She asked curiously. Her boyfriend paused mid bite, eyes focusing on her. He quickly swallowed then answered her.

“Well, you don’t like hearing drug talk so I try not to talk about it a lot, or really involve you in general. You know that, babe” he explained. “Besides, it’s not like she’s the only one I’ve started dealing to. Michael Dunham, Maya Lynch and Rosie Stiles have approached me for weed, too. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, but Rosie, Michael and Maya haven’t been trying to get deals out of you,” Jeff pointed out. His comment made Eddie turn and shoot him a warning glare shortly before Gareth leaned over and smacked the back of his head.

“Wait, what? What do you mean ‘deals?’” Misty did her best to not sound distraught, but based on the looks that the rest of the table was giving her, it wasn’t working very well.

“Babe, it’s seriously nothing,” Eddie soothed her quickly, grabbing her hands. “Yeah, she’s been trying to get discounts the past few times we’ve seen each other, but none of them have worked. And any future attempts will continue to fail.”

“What has she been doing?” The girl demanded anxiously, confusing the boy.

“What?”

“What’s she been doing to get a discount?” She clarified.

“You don’t need to worry about it, it’s nothing big.” He didn’t look at her as he responded, and his answer did not make her feel any better. Why was he avoiding answering the question? Misty almost didn’t want to know why, and before she even realized, she stood up.

“I’ll see you guys later,” she muttered, not giving anyone any time to respond before she grabbed her bag and walked out of the cafeteria.

The rest of Misty’s classes were filled with thoughts about Eddie and Suzy. Despite her boyfriend’s reassurances, she still felt uneasy. Now, logically, she knew she had absolutely no reason to be jealous. Eddie wasn’t exactly Hawkins’ most wanted bachelor, not many people were just dying to be in her position. But, Suzy was older; as a matter of fact she was the same age as him. What Eddie realized that he wanted someone more mature? The fact that he was still dealing to her despite the fact that she was continually (and desperately, based on the way Jeff said it) trying to get a deal out of him did not help.

When the final bell rang Misty immediately headed to her locker to put away her textbook. It didn’t take her long to do so, but when she closed it she was nearly scared to death at the sight of her boyfriend. Eddie was leaning against the locker beside hers with his arms crossed in the typical “cool guy” fashion one would see in the movies. She flinched away with a surprised gasp as her hand flew to her chest.

“Jesus Eddie, you almost gave me a heart attack,” she complained, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. A small chuckle left his lips as he pushed off the locker.

“I need to talk to you,” he spoke, which made her eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh?” She responded, already beginning to walk out to his car. “What about?”

“Suzy Harmon.” The name made her stop in her tracks, which in turn almost made Eddie run into her if he hadn’t (thankfully) caught himself.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she answered after a moment, continuing to walk.

“See, why do I not believe you?” The boy asked, jogging to catch up to her.

“I wouldn’t know,” Misty responded simply with a shrug. “I can’t see what’s going on in that awfully big head of yours.” She didn’t even have to look at him to know that he was rolling his eyes.

“Well, I think it’s because you haven’t talked to me since lunch, when you found out about me dealing with Suzy,” he said, stepping in front of her once they were by his van and grabbing her hand. “And I now know for sure that you’re upset about it, so I think we should talk about it. Talk to me, Misty.” He almost sounded like he was begging by the end of his sentence as he squeezed her hand gently. Misty visibly hesitated, then sighed.

“I just- I don’t know… The entire situation makes me uncomfortable,” she finally admitted. The boy’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” she answered exasperatedly. “It’s just that she’s super pretty, and she’s your age and she’s popular and…” she trailed off at the end, not wanting to say it.

“You think that I’m gonna leave you for her?” There was no judgment or offense in his tone, just genuine curiosity. He was genuinely trying to understand what was going on.

“I mean, it would make sense,” she answered awkwardly. Immediately Eddie shook his head as his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her right against his chest.

“Babe no, no, no, no no,” he soothed gently. “I would never do that to you.” Misty still wasn’t sure.

“But-”

“But nothing,” he cut her off, looking directly into her eyes. “I’ve got eyes for you, and only you. I love you Misty, and absolutely nothing will change that. Not even some old high school graduate that wants drugs from me.” That made the girl feel a bit better. She offered him a weak smile as she rested her hands on his shoulders as he continued.

“If it would make you feel better, you’re more than welcome to sit in on my deals with Suzy. Or, better yet, if you don’t want to be a part of it at all, I can just stop dealing to her.”

“Eddie, no. I’m not gonna make you lose business just because I’m feeling insecure,” she answered instantly, receiving a comforting smile in return.

“Stopping one person from buying from me won’t make me lose much,” he retorted. “I have a much larger clientele than you would think. Besides, your peace of mind is worth way more than twenty dollars a week.” That made Misty laugh as she shook her head.

“Still, I think I’ll be fine as long as I sit in on your deals. I can make an exception for Suzy,” she spoke softly.

“Too bad I can’t,” Eddie joked, the two of them laughing afterwards. And just like that, things were back to the way they were.

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x oc

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aurevell · 2 years

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he loves me not

Steter | 2.2k | T Prompt: Hanahaki Disease

Summary: Peter accidentally catches feelings, resists talking about those feelings, pines hopelessly, and eventually gets the guy.

The first flower drifts out of Peter's mouth right after Stiles texts him to set up a movie night.

Which, honestly, should have been a red flag. Back when they first started the whole “allies with benefits” thing, there was a flat rate of zero date-like activities happening before and after said “benefits.” The demands on Peter’s time were slim. They usually met in the late evenings after dealing with their separate packs’ daily bullshit, or after their late-night texting turned sexual, before parting to go straight to bed.

Now, though, there are occasional movie nights, and messages asking questions like did you want to head out and grab a pizza first?

It’s probably all that extra face time that fucked him over, but Peter refuses to let his mind go down that road right away. Instead, he stares at the little white petal in his palm.

Not possible, he thinks, disbelieving. You must be able to get hanahaki for other things, too.

He racks his brain for an answer. (Which is yet another foreign habit. Peter is his pack’s knowledge base on virtually any supernatural creature that could cross their borders, yet his understanding of hanahaki only skims the surface. Mostly because it once seemed utterly trite and unimportant.)

He’s fresh off buying a new Shelby Cobra in a stunning shade of blue, and he’s been a little in love with it from the second he drove it off the lot.

That’s all it is. Right? He flicks the petal off to type out a message on his phone. No way this is over Stiles Stilinski.

⬩

This thing between them has always been casual. Peter’s the one who laid down that rule, right from the start, and Stiles was one hundred percent on board.

To be anything otherwise would throw a wrench into both their personal lives, into every ambition they’ve been working so hard to achieve.

Stiles is an emissary for the McCall pack, the group of runts whose territory butts against the Hale pack’s borders. And while Talia’s been grateful that Peter is “building a solid relationship” with them instead of defaulting to his usual snarky provocations, she wouldn’t be nearly so grateful if she knew that “solid relationship” involved fucking their emissary into every horizontal surface of his apartment.

From what Peter’s learned of Stiles’s situation, it’s practically the same thing in reverse. In fact, Stiles has been almost insultingly insistent that they keep this whole thing a secret. Which Peter is, again, completely fine with.

Because there’s no way he’s in love with Stiles Stilinski.

Sometime after he struggles through the five stages of grief—denial’s a bitch, and acceptance is just depressing—he does his research. If this is happening, and given the number of petals he’s vacuumed from his new velvet rug it definitely is, he has to know the parameters.

As he discovers, hanahaki isn’t as bad as it’s cracked up to be in the media. Movies and soap operas love to play up the drama and deadliness, but it’s just like a lot of chronic illnesses: manageable with medicine. Cough suppressants, antihistamines, and anti-inflammatories can help keep the worst symptoms at bay for months or years, though some people need prescriptions to manage rarer strains.

Unfortunately for Peter, those kinds of medications burn through a shifter’s metabolism in minutes, so there’s almost no point in considering them.

There are few further treatments available. Total avoidance of the person in question works, but Peter considers that for all of ten seconds before deciding it’s impossible. He and Stiles run into each other for work purposes at least two or three times a week, and besides that, the thought of not being able to mouth at Stiles’s neck as he comes feels unthinkable.

There’s also surgery, which Peter wouldn’t do for basically the same reason. Removing the invading floral growth from his lungs would involve removing all of his memories of Stiles, which would be pretty hard to explain in a public setting.

Which means that the only thing to do is man up and talk it out.

Which Peter’s absolutely going to do. Eventually. He’s not so much of a coward that he’ll cut all ties just to avoid an awkward conversation.

But each time he sees Stiles, he doesn’t want it to be the last.

Next time, he decides again and again.

⬩

Peter chokes out another few petals while Stiles is in the bathroom one evening a few weeks later.

He’s making pasta in the kitchen, having talked up his rigatoni alla bolognese for so long that Stiles bullied him into making it, and Peter…allowed it. He’s getting soft, and it’s basically killing him.

The petals flutter onto the counter, and they’re—Absolutely not, he thinks, leaning down with a scowl—bubblegum pink and literally heart-shaped. This is unacceptable.

Stiles steps back into the room, catching Peter off-guard, and he swipes the offending petals off the counter and onto the floor. Stiles narrows his eyes at Peter’s innocent expression. He smiles, like he’s already waiting for Peter to offer a punchline. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Peter replies, but before he can turn back to his pasta, he coughs again. Another petal comes out, dancing through the air and onto the countertop.

“Ohhh.” Stiles’s face falls, and it’s the moment Peter’s been dreading, the moment when Stiles realizes that things have to change between them. “So…who is it?”

A flood of relief and incredulity washes over Peter. When on earth would I have had time to fall in love with anyone else, you idiot? he wonders. We’re practically living in each other’s pockets.

But sure. Maybe there’s a remote chance. And if nothing else, it buys Peter more time.

“No one,” he says, turning away to add a splash of wine to the sauce.

The smile has crept back onto Stiles’s face. “Aw, come on. You laughed at me for having Harry Styles on my celebrity exception list for like, two weeks straight.”

“That was well-deserved.”

“What I deserve is to laugh about whoever this is. And maybe to watch you suffer through a discussion of feelings, since you seem so allergic to them.” He huffs out a laugh. “Literally allergic, at least right now.”

Peter goes to respond, but the sneeze catches hold of him too fast. When he opens his eyes, a wave of tiny dandelion seeds has exploded out of him, a thin cloud of them drifting in the air.

There’s a long moment of silence. Stiles’s surprise morphs into a wild grin.

“Don’t—” Peter begins.

“That was fucking adorable,” Stiles says, to his great horror.

⬩

Peter spends the next week trying to muffle his coughs and sneezes in meetings and on recon missions, in front of clients and allies he can’t be seen to be this soft and messy with, and in front of his own pack, where the risk associated with exposure is highest. Laura would torment him about this forever.

What makes the whole thing both terrible and not terrible at all is that Stiles is so fucking understanding about it. After their respective packs team up to take out a nest of nagas, the two of them head back to Peter’s, where they’d usually be all over each other before they even reach the front door. This time, though, Peter coughs up an entire flower on the drive back, and Stiles spends the rest of the evening rubbing Peter’s back in front of the TV and nagging him to stay hydrated.

They don’t even have sex; Stiles pulls Peter against him, careful to keep him at an angle that won’t make it too hard for him to cough, and leans his head on Peter’s shoulder. Like they’re just cuddling. And in hindsight, that’s probably a bad move: the hanahaki always feels worse on the days after their hangouts involve nothing more than literal hanging out.

Presently, Stiles has fallen asleep on his shoulder. There’s a warm spot on Peter’s shirt that he’s pretty sure is drool, but he doesn’t even move away. Which is a sign of true love if Peter's ever heard one. (Stiles is drooling. On Peter’s Italian linen shirt. It bears repeating.)

This can’t last. So far, Peter’s managed to keep this a secret from everyone else in his life, though not without close calls. It’s not something he can do forever, especially not if it’s going to keep getting worse.

It’s time to tell Stiles.

And Stiles is going to be a little shit about it forever, he thinks in resignation.

⬩

To his surprise, though, Stiles eventually stops bugging him about who it is, probably because Peter is so uncharacteristically sullen about it. Most of the time, when the coughing gets really bad, he looks on with chagrin, as if he’s not quite sure what to do.

“You have to say something to them, Peter,” he begs from the bathroom door while Peter hacks another pink flower into the toilet, chest heaving. “This is so stupid.”

Peter wipes his mouth, swallowing, and flushes. He winds his way around Stiles, who rolls his eyes.

“What, are you going to do this forever? Or are you going to be one of those martyrs who goes the surgery route?”

“I’m not having surgery,” Peter says wearily. He drops onto the living room sofa, ignoring the spread of petals across the carpet and scattered on the cushions. Stiles could really have left half an hour ago, when it became clear Peter’s coughing was too bad for him to jump into their usual cardio regimen.

“Then what?” Stiles asks, coming to stand in front of him. Which means Peter can’t even pretend to scroll through his Netflix catalog. “You’re killing yourself. It’s not cute.”

Peter throws down the remote. “Hanahaki isn’t—”

“—a death sentence, I know, you’ve said it like a billion times. But that doesn’t mean you need to live with it!”

Peter scrubs a hand over his face, misery trying to masquerade as annoyance. Fortunately, another wave of coughing prevents him from having to come up with an answer.

Sighing, Stiles strides out of the room. The water turns on in the kitchen, and then there’s a click of a burner. A few minutes later, when Peter has mostly composed himself, Stiles comes back out with a steaming cup of tea.

He holds it out to Peter. “Honey ginger,” he says resignedly, when Peter just stares. “It’s good for a sore throat. If you have to fucking do this.”

Peter accepts the mug, taking a sip as he gathers his nerve. When Stiles flops down onto the cushion beside him, arms crossed in irritation, Peter murmurs, “It’s you.”

Stiles frowns at him. “What is.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Peter clarifies, “The hanahaki.”

A few long seconds pass, a few long seconds in which Peter can feel his lungs opening up. The slight, almost subaural whistle they made on every inhale has vanished, just that fast. Fucking magic, Peter thinks.

“No,” Stiles says at last, incredulous. He slowly comes to sit up straight, facing Peter. “But you were the one who said we couldn’t—”

“I know. It makes things awkward. But nothing has to change.”

“Why the fuck not? I…wow.” Stiles looks almost shell-shocked, his hands fluttering from his face to his knees like he’s not sure what to do with them. “Everything could change.”

“What?”

“I mean, you gotta know…I like you. I’m not exactly at love just yet,” he adds hurriedly, his words stumbling over themselves in the way they do when he’s flustered. “But like, I don’t know. It’s still early. We could try, and see where it goes. Right?”

Peter stares, almost disbelieving. “You. Want to try a relationship.”

“Don’t sound so amazed. I only said we shouldn’t because you said it first.” He pauses, shrugging. “And yeah, because it’s way easier for me not to have to talk about this with Scott or Lydia yet. They still think you’re a manipulative bastard.”

Peter feels the beginning of a smile start to bloom on his face. “And you don’t?” he asks, a hint of skepticism in his tone.

“Oh. No, I know you’re a manipulative bastard,” Stiles replies. The hand that slips up to cradle Peter’s jaw belies Stiles’s sly grin. “But I like you that way. Also, you’re kind of stupid sometimes.”

This rips an incredulous laugh from Peter, and it feels really good to laugh without worrying about breaking into a coughing fit.

Stiles watches him, and his expression can only be called fond. “Seriously. I thought you’d figure me out first. Don’t you have a super-sniffer to tell you what emotions people are having?”

Peter could walk Stiles through the intricacies of emotion-based scenting, the difficulties of differentiating the strong smell of arousal from its more subtle relatives. Or he could lean forward to slot his mouth onto Stiles, cupping his ass to pull him in until he’s seated half across Peter’s lap.

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles says, sounding breathless. “Cool. Do you think we can finish this conversation somewhere that doesn’t have flower-vomit all over the place?”

For once, Peter’s too amazed to roll his eyes. Grinning, he takes Stiles by the arm and leads him toward his bedroom.

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#steter #steter fic #au-gust 2022 #mine #tumblr fic

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schrijverr · 2 years

Text

Signing Up For Some Gay-Shit

Janie has professor Hale, who won’t shut up about his husband. She herself is trying to find the nerve to ask out Amishi, who is friends with a clumsy student named Stiles. Somehow, those overlap.

On AO3.

Ships: Sterek and lesbian OCs

Warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Professor Hale is one of the most popular teachers on campus. He is smart, friendly, serious and incredibly handsome. His classes are continuously full with people, who signed on for his looks and are passing due to his teaching.

However, Professor Hale is most famous for getting distracted from his own study program – which he sticks to religiously – when asked about his husband.

Janie signed up after recommendation of her brother, who told her Professor Hale is a good teacher ‘despite the gay-shit.’ Seeing that Janie is also a bit of gay-shit herself, something her brother doesn’t know, she signed up immediately. Getting hope for the future as a queer person as well as a good lecturer, hell yeah.

But she hadn’t expected it to be quite so much.

The words ‘my husband’ have been spoken so many times, not even three weeks into the semester, that she can still hear them when she goes to bed. She also knows so much about this mystery man that she almost starts to question if she’s straight with how convincing Professor Hale is about his strong points.

She still learns so much about mythic history, but every lecture is peppered with comments like: “My husband and I once went to an Aztec temple. It was quite the adventure, if you want to call it that, perhaps nightmare is more apt,” or, “Don’t get my husband started on folklore based mythologies.”

Professor Hale never mentions his husband’s name, but outside of that, everything seems to be fair game to tell the class about.

Many people there have noted about how cute it is among each other and most study sessions Janie has attended are more gossip gatherings to try and piece together what sort of person this infamous husband is.

The current main theories are that he is 1) incredibly smart and probably sophisticated, another professor maybe one in history or religions as well, one that is more private. 2) a charismatic and smart – because the amounts of times professor Hale has called his husband smart is too many – actor or famous person, which is why they keep it on the down-low.

Janie thinks it’s ridiculous to theorize about their professor’s relationship, but it’s better than hearing the poetry about his eyes. She gets it on an aesthetic level, but sometimes she’s more concerned about her classmates, honestly.

Today they’re in the middle of the lecture when a phone starts to ring. All immediately look around, because everyone knows that professor Hale does not allow phones in class, only to whip their head around in surprise when they hear professor Hale pick up with: “What’s happening? Are you all okay?”

“Yes, of course I’m opening with that, you fucking dumbass,” professor Hale hisses into the phone as a reply to whoever just called. “You never call during my lectures, of course I’m going to think something is wrong.”

A beat, then an eyeroll. “Yes, I am in a lecture. So, fill me in.”

“No, you’re not hanging up after you called me just because I’m in a lecture. You’re explaining right now. Or I’m leaving them here and coming to you. Don’t think I won’t be able to find you if I need to.”

After a moment, professor Hale leans against his desk with a smug: “Good,” as he settles in to listen.

Janie’s eyebrows shoot up to her forehead. That’s not exactly a conversation she has ever had with anyone. She has never picked up the phone expecting the other person to be hurt or in trouble and a new spark of curiosity goes through her as she watches her professor.

As the person on the other side talks professor Hale’s face goes through a slew of emotions. The smug expression melts away for concern, before he frowns in confusion, finally ending on an exasperated yet fond look.

When he finally hangs up, it’s with a soft: “Good to hear, I’m glad. See you tonight. Love you.”

Those words cause a ripple of noise to go through the students assembled in the lecture hall as they all suddenly realize that the person who had called was professor Hale’s husband himself.

Professor Hale looks up at all of them at that point, like he had forgotten about the hall of 200 students, who have been watching his every move since the start of the semester in hopes of gathering the credit they need.

“Is everything alright, professor Hale?” Amishi asks, breaking through the chatter with the genuine kindness and concern Janie loves about her. Not that she has ever scrounged up the courage to talk to her yet.

It seems professor Hale also knows she is a good person, because he smiles kindly at her and assures them all: “Everything is fine. Apologies for that. My husband and friends have a habit of getting themselves in trouble, but no need to bail them out today.”

The last part is said like he’s joking, but there is still a small pause, before people laugh. He is a bit too casual about it and Janie can feel old theories being discarded and new ones being cooked up all around her.

Picking up on the vibe shifting in the room, professor Hales clears his throat, before moving on with his lecture.

That week, Janie gets into study group with Amishi. Nervously she sits besides the other girl, tucking her hair behind her ear as she softly says: “Hi, uhm, Janie. We share mythic history, I, uh, I could use some help with the whole folklore bit and you always seem to take good notes.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” she shuffles to the side to make room for Janie. “Come sit. I’m Amishi.”

“Nice to meet you,” Janie says, as if she hasn’t long since gotten the name and major from a friend before now. “I do history, so this course is adding to cultural understanding and stuff. Why are you taking it?”

“I do criminology,” she smiles. “I might want to go into behavior or cult murders. This is for me to get a bit of a background on everything.”

“That’s so cool,” Janie gushes a bit, happy to see Amishi duck her head slightly, pleased grin on her face.

Then they delve into the coursework, Janie mentally fistpumping at the easy camaraderie with the other girl. After a while they’re properly distracted from the work again, talking about their own courses and gossip going around.

“I think professor Hale’s husband must be law, or secret service or something,” Amishi declares. “I mean, why else would he pick up like that. Or be available in his own classes – which he hates – unless he doesn’t want to miss a call from his lover, near peril each day.”

Janie snorts: “That’s a bit dramatic, but I suppose. However, professor Hale always says how clumsy he is, don’t think that’s good in combat.”

“True,” Amishi gives in, before saying, “God, I have the clumsiest guy in my courses, it’s hilarious. First day he tripped over his own feet and spilled his coffee all over himself, then moments later he spat his water everywhere.”

“Quite a feat,” Janie giggles.

“Yeah,” Amishi agrees, encouraged by her reaction. “Last week he was late and full on sprinted against the closed door, while the other was open. He still has a bruise on his jaw, poor kid. But I wouldn’t trust Stiles with a gun, not for a second.”

“What kind of name is Stiles?” Janie can’t help, but ask.

“I don’t know, but he chose it himself,” Amishi shrugs. “Apparently he has a Polish name, knew he was being called on when the professor started to hesitate, I can relate to that.”

“Yeah…” Janie nods. “Does he at least have style to go with the name?”

“No, not at all,” Amishi laughs and they’re off talking again.

The next lecture of professor Hale Janie sits next to Amishi, trying to ignore the fact that the professor had quirked his brow at her, before giving her a knowing look. Her blush in response has probably given her away, but Amishi didn’t notice, so the slow wooing plan is still in motion.

Though wooing plans have to be put on hold for professor Hale’s lecture. Janie likes his lectures, so she takes her notes, even if they’re not color coded and neat like Amishi’s.

It’s nice, kind of peaceful.

A few lectures later that changes. Professor Hale is late and he is never later. So when they’re all seated and he’s not there, murmurs start to go through the crowd. Someone is just yelling that they’re allowed to leave after fifteen minutes when professor Hale bursts through the door, suspiciously not out of breath for someone who has obviously been running.

“I’m sorry guys,” professor Hale says as he starts setting up. “There was a bit of a hiccup this morning.”

He looks suitably disheveled. His hair is not in its perfect shape, mused on one side, which he is trying to tame as he taps on his laptop to set up his powerpoint. However, something else catches Janie’s attention and before she’s aware she has exclaimed: “Is that blood on your shirt?”

Professor Hale looks a bit startled at her words, but she is more focused on the dark splotches on the gray shirt. Why the hell is he late?!? Secret service is suddenly not so crazy.

“Oh, uhm,” professor Hale looks at his shirt, before looking a bit sheepish and apologetic as he says: “Sorry for that, my husband tripped this morning, had a horrible nosebleed.” No one sees how he nearly laughs at that, a memory of cousin Miguel coming to the surface. “It’s why I’m late.”

“Is he alright?” Amishi asks.

“He’s fine, thank god,” professor Hale answers, genuinely. “His clumsiness makes more appearances than I’d like, honestly. I worry when he’s not in sight. Always seems to get himself in trouble. All his brainpower goes into his smarts, not his movement.” Okay, maybe not secret service.

That earns the professor some coos, from those who find his worried protectiveness adorable, before he manages to start his lecture. He gets them back on track pretty well, despite the jerky start.

Once the lecture is done, Janie packs up, walking out with Amishi discussing when to hang out to compare notes, something Janie hopes to turn into a date one of these days. But before she can scrounge up the courage, they’re nearly bowled over by a loud blur.

“Oh my god, I am so so sorry, I did not see you there. Like, I was going and suddenly you were there, which is not an excuse, so sorry. Truly, sorry- Oh, hey Amishi,” the blur rambles as Janie blinks until a lanky young man comes into view.

“Hey Stiles,” Amishi sighs fondly as she allows the other to help her up.

Then Amishi helps Janie up as she reconciles the young man in front of her with the klutz from her courses Amishi told her about. She can definitely see the clumsy and the lack of fashion with the horridly clashing flannel and shirt combo he’s wearing.

“Hey, again, I’m so sorry,” Stiles says, wincing. He has a bruise on his face and a cut on his hand, which he probably got in another incident like this.

“It’s alright,” Janie smiles awkwardly at him. “We’re fine.”

“Thank god, won’t be a good look, going around mowing down my fellow students,” Stiles grins. “I’m Stiles Stilinski by the way.”

“Janie, Janie Paulson,” Janie replies, shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Stiles grins. “Amishi told me about you. Said you were chill.”

“She did?” Janie can’t help but ask.

Amishi elbows Stiles, who swiftly changes topics before Janie can pry further. “You’re talking the mythic history course? That’s awesome! I wanted to take it too, but my friends convinced me it was a bad idea.”

“Why would it be a bad idea?” Amishi asks

“Oh, I have an overactive imagination,” Stiles tells them brightly. “I would probably start seeing that stuff everywhere once I get into it.”

None of them hear professor Hale snort in the empty classroom behind them. While Amishi deadpans: “You literally look at crime scene photos all day.”

“It’s different,” Stiles shrugs. “Anyway, I was on my way before I so graciously bowled you two lovely ladies over, so I’m going to leave you two to it. It was nice meeting you, Janie!”

“Yeah, you too,” Janie manages to call after him, before he disappears with more movement and some curses. She turns to Amishi and raises a brow.

Amishi says: “Well, that was Stiles.”

“Interesting character. Seems nice,” Janie grins.

“He is when he’s not being a fucking idiot,” Amishi tells her. “Come on, lets do coffee and discuss all of this, because I’m never keeping these names straight.”

“Hell yeah,” Janie follows after her, because this sounds close to a coffee date and with Stiles’ words, she might actually have a chance.

They get their coffee at the local coffee shop that they both love. It has these dark green walls and plants everywhere, giving it the perfect study vibes. Janie treats herself to a brownie, while Amishi decides to get a cookie.

At first they actually focus on their work, but Amishi is better with the names than she led Janie to believe and it’s fresh enough on their mind that revising isn’t really useful. Neither of them comments on that, however, instead letting their conversation drift along.

“How did you hear about professor Hale’s class?” Amishi asks, conversationally.

“Oh, my brother said he as good despite the gay-shit and seeing that I am gay-shit myself, I decided I had to check it out,” Janie shrugs, casually, while scanning Amishi’s face at the fact that she weaved that into conversation.

Amishi has never shown distaste surrounding professor Hale being married to a man, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. So when she says: “You’re gay?” in a surprised voice, Janie takes the plunge and hopes that’s a good reaction as she nods: “Yeah, bigass lesbian, that’s me.”

“Thank god!” Amishi says. “Sorry, that’s a weird reaction. I’m bi, but haven’t met many other queer students that I’ve clicked with, except Stiles. But Stiles has this whole intimidating friend group, so that never went anywhere.”

Okay, score! She has a chance. Janie grins and salutes: “Happy to be of service.”

“You’re an idiot,” Amishi tells her, pushing her over, though she is smiling and that’s enough for Janie, who stares at her for a moment. Amishi becomes a bit shy as she asks: “What?”

“Oh, uhm,” Janie realizes she has been staring. “You have something on your cheek. Wait, I got it,” she reaches out and softly wipes it away, never really breaking eye contact.

“Thanks,” Amishi says softly, looking down at her notes. She clears her throat: “So, names.”

They return to the work and Janie tries to decide if that was a moment, or just a friend thing as she steals glances at Amishi’s beautiful, dark and concentrated eyes.

She hasn’t figured it out when the next lecture rolls around and hasn’t had the chance to talk with Amishi again that week. A bit unsure, she slides into the seat next to her, relieved when she smiles at her.

Professor Hale then starts his lecture, however at some point he stops and says: “Do you guys mind if I eat real quick? I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning and my husband will skin me if I didn’t eat the food he packed me.”

That earns him some chuckles as everyone assures him it’s fine.

He then pulls out an honest to god paper bag, like they’re in some sort of movie. Pulling out the food, causes a pink paper to flutter to the ground. When he picks it up, Janie can clearly see it’s heart-shaped and whatever it says, makes professor Hale flush bright red in a way that Janie hadn’t known he could do.

“What do you think it says?” she whispers to Amishi.

“Probably how he can’t wait to be eaten like that sandwich,” Amishi jokes softly as professor Hale chokes on his food. Amishi comments: “I’m glad my skin doesn’t show blushing like that, damn.”

Janie inspects her own pale arms and grimaces, muttering: “Lucky.”

“Ahw, come on, can’t be that bad,” Amishi says. “Now your freckles show. It’s cute.”

And there goes Janie, flushing like an idiot as she says in a strangled voice: “Shut up.” Proceeding to nearly die as Amishi giggles at her.

In that time, professor Hale has quickly wolfed down his food and is resuming his lecture, the tips of his ears still red.

No one there can ever know the note read: I’m always safe with you, sourwolf, but you can’t protect me without proper nutrients. Let me take care of you like you care for me. I love you, Der-bear! ~Your lovely husband, if I do say so myself ;p

It’s so simple and so Stiles and Derek just loves him so much that he couldn’t help, but blushing at his sweet words. The words of his students, however, did not help, so now he is still teaching, slightly mortified over how soft words did more to him than anything explicit ever could.

Janie meanwhile, can’t meet Amishi’s eyes, taking her notes with a blush still painting her cheeks. It felt like a moment there and Amishi’s voice. God, her voice. No, focus! But her lips…

Yeah, it isn’t the most productive class for her.

Afterwards, she has calmed her fluttering heart enough to talk again and is chatting with Amishi, who says: “I’m going to a study group with a few people from criminology this Thursday. We have one hell class that only Stiles seems to get, but it’s mostly fun. It’s at Stacy’s Diner, you should come too.”

“Sure, sounds fun,” Janie says, then spots her brother yelling her name. She rolls her eyes and nods at them. “Sorry, an idiot is calling. I’ll see you there?”

“Alright! It starts at five,” Amishi tells her, before Janie takes off.

She eats lunch with her brother, mentally planning an outfit for a fucking study group of all things as she tries to convince herself that she should just make a move.

Thursday rolls around and Janie has put on her gayest nice outfit she can find. She doesn’t know if she’s more nervous about the people she doesn’t know, or about being around Amishi in this new context.

About the new people, she shouldn’t have worried, because when she arrives, the guy she recognizes as Stiles calls out: “Janie, hi! Sorry about running you over that one time. Promise I won’t do that again.”

To which another jeers: “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Stilinski.” Before turning to Janie and saying: “He has unintentionally hit everyone here at least once. Welcome to the club. I’m Cillian.”

“Janie,” she introduces herself as the others do the same.

Amishi is luckily there to pull her next to herself, before forcing her to order the strawberry milkshake, since it is the best every, apparently. Janie isn’t complaining, especially when she steals a sip, a bit of her lipstick remaining on the straw.

They’re working on police procedure in their courses right now and all have become constricted in the administration. Except Stiles, who proudly says: “My dad is the sheriff back home. Police procedure is my bitch.”

He gets a lot of eyerolls, but no one counters him and Janie gets a look at the smart side that Amishi told her about as he coaches everyone through the different forms. He is still animated, arms flying around as he talks, but he reworks his rambling way of talking to clear instructions.

Janie doesn’t get much of her own work done, but she doesn’t mind. She’s pretty up to date on her work and it’s much more fun to participate with the others, being even more clueless than them.

The group has just decided to take a break to eat some food, when a phone rings. Stiles is in the middle pushing a bunch of curly fries into his mouth as he dives for the phone, picking up: “Hey, sourwolf.”

He quickly chews to reply: “Yes, I’m eating let me live. I have that study group, remember? I was going to be nice and bestow my knowledge on the masses.”

That earns him some protests, which he ignores in favor of listening to whoever is on the line.

Janie sends Amishi a curious look, who explains: “His boyfriend. Won’t tell us much about him, which is highly frustrating, but he’s pretty whipped.”

She nods in reply, just as Stiles bemusedly exclaims: “Oh my god, are you for real! You need to learn to say no to Scott’s puppy dog eyes, this is ridiculous.” A beat. “Yes, you can hand the phone to him.”

There is a wait as the phone gets handed to this Scott person before Stiles says: “Scott, buddy, my man, my hombre. I know you want all the candy and shit for movie night, but you’re all going to get sick if you eat that much. Just listen to me and Derek.”

“No, I don’t care that you’re Mr. Leader-man,” Stiles sighs fondly at whatever is said. “Teeth are still dead matter, that isn’t just going to heal like that. And all of you hate the dentist, so do us all a favor and get a normal amount of snacks. Alright, dumbass?”

It appears that Scott gives in, because soon Stiles is grinning: “Good, now hand me back to my beloved Der-bear. I need my grumpy fix, before I get back to my courses.”

When he talks again, his voice is obviously different than when talking to Scott. It can only be described as filled with love, as he says: “Hi! Take care of them all, you hear me. And have fun, those grumpy eyebrows deserve a break every once in a while.”

He chuckles at whatever Derek says. Then smugly goes: “I am a delight and you love me.”

“Of course I love you too,” he smiles, practically melting as he says it. “I’ll see you tonight. And I expect cuddles. Bye, bye!”

After that it’s over.

Stiles looks back at all of them, seemingly not caring at all about the fact that they’re blatantly eavesdropping. “Sorry about that.” He doesn’t sound sorry in the slightest.

“So, how’s the boyfriend,” Cillain asks, leaning in like they’re gossiping.

Without blinking Stiles pushes his face away as he informs them: “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“I honestly don’t know why you keep saying that,” Amishi says. “You live together and share everything. How are you not dating? Can you hear yourself when you talk to him? Are you that oblivious?”

He raises a brow and says: “I’m not the oblivious one between us.” Somehow, making Janie feel like she’s being addressed.

“Whatever you say,” Amishi shrugs.

“Come on, man. You can’t keep doing the mysterious thing forever,” Cillian begs, before they can move on from the topic. “Why are you so set on being secretive about it when you obviously love bragging about it?”

“One, that is none of your business. Two, it’s because what we discussed about it,” Stiles says. “Now, lets get back to this. If we work quickly, I can catch the tail end of movie night. Hopefully before they’ve finished all the snacks.”

“How are you not dating again?” Cillian mutters, though he does drop it, before they get back to work.

Once everyone gets it, Stiles is out of there. He says a quick goodbye to all of them, before climbing out of the booth, tripping over himself.

“So, what’s the situation there?” Janie asks when he’s gone.

“He and this Derek guy live together and he’s obviously head over heels for him. By the sound of it, they’re as good as married, but Stiles insists he’s not his boyfriend,” Amishi explains.

“We know little to nothing about him and it’s so frustrating, because whoever he is, he has zero online presence,” Cillian complains. “We study criminology, we like mysteries. But this is getting too much.”

“That did sound like a relationship,” Janie agrees tentatively.

She is met with more agreement and a few groans, before the study group slowly dissolves with more and more people leaving until it’s just Janie and Amishi. For a moment, Janie thinks about confessing, remembering Stiles’ words about Amishi being the oblivious one, but instead she says: “I had fun. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Amishi replies. “Walk to the dorms together?”

“Sure.”

Soon the semester is drawing to a close and Janie knows that in a bit she and Amishi won’t be sharing a course anymore. That doesn’t mean they won’t see each other anymore, but if she doesn’t make a move they might grow apart. She knows all this, but it’s still too scary and she just needs another push, just something to make her believe it can work out.

She gets that push two lectures later. Professor Hale is in the middle of his lecture when the door bursts open as a whirlwind of motion comes in.

Everyone’s head whips to the noise. Usually when someone is late, they’ll try to subtly side in, but not this person. This person is loudly interrupting professor Hale’s class, mouth already running, before he’s close to the teacher.

“I’m so sorry about this, sourwolf. I swear I’m making it up to you, but this is incredibly important and I have no other choice,” the person says.

It’s only when Amishi whispers: “What the actual fuck,” in a heartfelt voice that Janie realizes the person is Stiles. Like study group, Amishi’s course mate, clumsy smart, Stiles.

“My beautiful and hard working loving girl broke down and I have that internship interview today, which I’m running late for, because Isaac had forgotten his scarf and came to get it, so I really, really need the keys to the Camaro if I wanna have a chance at making it,” Stiles explains.

And professor Hale, who hates being interrupted, drops his lecture to dig through his bag while Stiles bounces on his toes. As he searches, he says: “Isaac has a key, he could get in. You didn’t have to wait for him.”

“I know, but he sounded a bit upset over the phone, so I wanted to make sure he was okay,” Stiles replies.

“Is he alright?” professor Hale asks, before pulling out the car key out with a triumphant noise.

“Yeah, he had just finished his book. Who gave him one with a sad ending anyway?” Stiles tells him, before taking the keys. “Thanks so much, you’re my hero.”

“Probably Lydia,” professor Hale says, before pushing Stiles towards the door. “Now go kick ass in your interview.”

“I always do,” Stiles tells him, turning to plant a kiss on their professor’s cheek. “But a kiss for luck can’t hurt.”

“You’re an idiot,” professor Hale rolls his eyes, but obligingly kisses Stiles’ cheek. “Now go. You were running late, remember.”

“Ah, fuck,” Stiles exclaims, checking his watch, before sprinting away. “I love you, Der-bear. Don’t be a sourwolf. And eat vegetables for lunch!”

“Just go, Stiles,” professor Hale yells, exasperated yet so overtly fond. “And I love you too.” Then Stiles is gone and it’s just professor Hale and the students. He claps in his hands. “Sorry about that, guys. Now, where were we.”

“Is he really going to move on like nothing happened?” Janie questions out loud, only realizing how hard she said that when it pierces through the quiet.

“I can’t believe I never connected the dots,” Amishi exclaims. “Clumsy Stiles, who insists he isn’t dating Derek. Professor D. Hale. And we ran into him outside. How could I not have noticed. He’s married!”

Professor Hale blushes, especially when Janie’s comment gets more support and more people start saying things like Amishi. He quiets them down again. “I get it, it’s all very interesting, but I can assure you that nothing about my husband will be on the exam.”

“Could have fooled me with how much he talks about him,” Janie jokes to Amishi quietly, this time, though professor Hale flushes more.

“Look, I know you’re all curious, but there’s a reason we don’t tell people who we’re with on campus, so I’m going to continue with my lecture,” professor Hale says. “He’s worth it all and I don’t need rumors floating around when I would give my life for him. Alright.”

It is silent in the lecture hall. Everyone there can feel how much professor Hale means it all. He takes their silence as a yes and starts his lecture again.

Janie thinks about it. Professor Hale married to a student. It’s a big risk, especially when being gay as well. A lot of people can use it against them. It can be a danger.

‘He’s worth it all’

In their every interaction Janie has witnessed, unknowingly or not, she felt how much the two mean to each other. It’s beautiful how they found each other and Janie wants something like that for herself as well. But she won’t unless she takes a risk first.

She glances at Amishi, who just happens to meet her eye. Or maybe- maybe she’s been looking just like Janie has.

Professor Hale is still talking in the background, but Janie can’t focus on anything but Amishi in that moment. Slowly she reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind Amishi’s ear, before smiling: “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

“What?” Amishi squeaks, ducking her head.

Normally professor Hale is very strict about talking in class, but he doesn’t cut Janie off as she tells Amishi: “You’re breathtaking. I- uhm, I would love to take you to dinner sometime, if you’d like that?”

“Oh,” the shocked ‘O’ on Amishi’s face very kissable, though Janie restrains herself. It’s not really a huge hardship when it turns into a blinding smile: “I’d love to.”

Janie smiles back, before focusing back on the lecture, though not before linking hands with Amishi, refusing to let go the entire time.

Yeah, some risks are worth it and she is so glad for signing up for some gay-shit.

A/N:

I have always wanted to write one of these fics, like every year without fail I go down a rabbit hole and this time I am finally free of my cringe phase and doing whatever the fuck I want, so Teen Wolf fic in 2022 baby

Btw, ngl, the lesbian subplot took over my brain bc I am a bigass lesbian, rip to Sterek fans, we’re in this now (though there was a tie in! Go me, writing my actual fic lmao)

#RR writing #the lesbians distracted me #but that's beside the point #OCs #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles x derek #derek hale #sterek #college student! Stiles #professor!Derek Hale #teen wolf fanfiction #outsiders pov

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nellyharrison · 1 year

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come along, CH. 9

aka my rewrite of season 3A of Teen Wolf based on the question: what if Erica was best friends with Scott and Stiles from the beginning?

The pack tries to bring Boyd back, but it doesn’t work, and all they can do is mourn him. Derek disappears, and in his absence, the pack learns about his past with the alpha pack from two unreliable narrators.

CHAPTER NINE - VISIONARY (click to read on AO3)

The night Vernon Milton Boyd III died was a rollercoaster ride for those closest to him. Once the initial shock of what had happened to him faded, Cora was the one to demand they take him to Deaton. Erica quickly agreed, feeling her guilt grow for not thinking of it first. If they had all brought her back, surely they could bring Boyd back too. The momentary concern that Deaton was actually dead passed when Scott called Stiles to tell him he and the Sheriff had saved the vet in time. Any relief Stiles felt took a back seat to his first priority.

“We need you and Deaton to get to the clinic now,” Stiles told Scott, pulling Erica to his side when Jackson, Derek, and Isaac lifted Boyd out of the water and started carrying him towards the elevator. “Boyd’s dead,” he admitted, his breathing stuttering when Erica whimpered. “We need to try to bring him back.”

“I’ll call Allison and we’ll meet you there,” Scott promised before ending the call.

While most of the pack got an eerie sense of deja vu, Erica finally witnessed just what was required to give her the second chance she had now. She was the first to step forward when Deaton asked for their blood, then stood against a wall as the rest of the pack followed suit. She watched closely as Deaton mixed the final solution and injected it into Boyd.

“What happens next?” she wondered aloud, looking around the room.

“We wait,” Scott told her, walking towards her and checking to make sure the cut on her hand had healed.

“Either he’ll wake up by morning or…” Stiles added, trailing off when he realized no one wanted to accept the alternative. “Should we bring him to the loft?”

“The building should be safe now,” Derek muttered. “They won’t attack again before the next full moon.”

“The loft is a mess,” Isaac reminded them.

“And I don’t want him to wake up where he died,” Cora added, her arms crossed over her chest.

“We can take him to my place,” Erica decided, her eyes locked on Boyd’s still form. “Anyone that wants to stay is welcome.” Derek walked out of the room, drawing her attention, but she didn’t call his name. She didn’t follow him or wonder where he was going. She just watched him leave, and sunk a little more against the wall behind her.

Scott took Derek’s place in carrying Boyd from the building and helping Isaac and Jackson get him into Jackson’s car. Allison told them she was going to go back home, agreeing to drive Lydia home so Jackson could stay with the pack. Only Jackson seemed to notice the way her heartbeat revealed that she was lying about where she would be going after dropping Lydia off, but he didn’t call her out on it. He figured if Allison had somewhere she needed to be and didn’t want to tell them about it, it was important.

Stiles continued to act as Erica’s support system, remaining by her side with his arm around her back. He guided her into his Jeep, and in a caravan far too similar to a funeral procession, the teenagers drove through Beacon Hills to Erica’s building. None of them spoke, either out of fear of saying something that would make matters worse or because they were too upset to speak.

Once they made it up to Erica’s place, they decided to lay Boyd on the couch. Jackson and Scott pushed the couch over to the window, making sure Boyd was in the moonlight. Dragging a chair for himself and Jackson, Isaac settled next to Boyd, ready to stand vigil next to his packmate. Cora soon joined them, picking a spot on the floor to sit with her back against the couch. The emotional drain of the day caught up with her then, and she drifted to sleep with her arms crossed over her chest. With a shake of his head, Isaac walked over to where he knew Erica kept some spare blankets and picked one to drape over Cora.

Erica was still hovering in the middle of her kitchen, holding a glass of water that Stiles had given her before he had disappeared into the hallway to call his dad. She jolted when Scott appeared by her side and placed a hand on her arm, her eyes lifting to meet his. He guided her towards her bedroom and sat her down on her bed, crouching down in front of her and placing his hands on either side of her on the bed.

“I want to tell you something,” he admitted. “Something that happened tonight. I don’t really understand what it means yet, but I don’t want to keep stuff from you.”

“I don’t want you to keep stuff from me either,” she agreed. “Is it something that could hurt me if I don’t know right away?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it as he considered her question. “No,” he decided. “It can wait.”

“Good,” she nodded, glancing down at her water before placing a hand on Scott’s arm. “Because I don’t think I can take anything else on right now. Scott, I- I need this to work. I don’t want to lose Boyd.”

“I know,” he assured her. “Maybe we’ll get lucky twice. Stranger things have happened lately.”

“Like what happened at Allison’s?” she asked, looking back up at him.

“What, uh, what happened at Allison’s?” he replied, still in denial that anything was changing between the two of them.

“Scott, you said you didn’t want to keep stuff from me anymore,” she reminded him, moving her hand to his shoulder and pushing so she could stand and take a few steps away from him. She placed her glass of water on her bureau, then started going through her dresser for a change of clothes.

“What do you want me to say, Erica?” he wondered as he stood up, running his hands through his hair. “Okay, we were in a small closet, and you were pressed up against me, and- and-”

“And what?” she prompted, turning to face him.

“And…” he started, taking a deep breath as he looked at her. “How come you never told me what Victoria did to you?”

“W-What?” she stammered. “How did you-?”

“Allison told me,” he admitted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “How could I?”

“I deserved to know, Erica,” he insisted.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” she shrugged. “I didn’t want to interfere with your relationship with Allison more than I felt I already had.”

“Okay, then why didn’t you tell me after Allison and I broke up?” he countered.

“Why does it matter now?” she shot back. “Why are we talking about this?”

“Everything good in here?” Scott and Erica turned and found Stiles standing in the bedroom doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Erica stated, picking her water back up and chugging half of it. “I need more water,” she decided, pushing past them to escape into the kitchen and attempt to catch her breath. She didn’t understand why Scott brought up what Victoria had done, or what it had to do with why they had almost kissed. Her heart was already a mess, and now her head was becoming one too. After refilling her water, she found a spot near Jackson on the floor to settle in for the night, wanting to be close to Boyd for when he woke up. She glanced up when Scott and Stiles came out of her room, then leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes. If she was lucky - if they were all lucky - when she opened her eyes, Boyd would be awake, and everything would be okay again.

Except he wouldn’t wake up. His body wouldn’t change. The life wouldn’t return to his skin, and his wounds wouldn’t heal. Erica would wake to Cora’s pained scream the next morning, Isaac kneeling beside her as they both cried over Boyd. She would scramble to her feet, look down, and be met with the same sight she had gone to bed hoping would change. Jackson stood from his seat and walked away from them, needing distance to process that this time, they didn’t get the miracle they wanted. In the end, none of them were Boyd’s mate, so they couldn’t save him like they had saved Erica.

Scott barely caught Erica when she crumbled, his arm scooping behind her knees so he could carry her to her room. “No, I can’t leave him,” she cried, smacking Scott’s chest so he would drop her, but he only held her tighter. “Let me go! Let me go, Scott!”

“He’s gone,” he told her, leaning his forehead against her head. “I’m so sorry Erica, but he’s gone.” She smacked him a few more times before gripping the fabric of his shirt as thick tears rolled down her cheeks. Scott carried her to her bed and laid her down, not getting far before Erica’s hand was gripping his. “Hey, I’m not leaving you alone,” he promised her, reaching down with his free hand to brush a tear from her cheek. “We need to get him back to his family. I’ll take care of it, okay? Stiles!” he called into the hallway, their best friend appearing within seconds as if he was waiting to be summoned. “Stay with Erica.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Stiles nodded, kicking off his shoes before climbing into bed and pulling Erica into his arms. “Shh, I’ve got you, Catwoman.” She curled up against him, burying her face in his chest as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and brushed his other hand over her hair. “You’ll tell the others?”

“Derek will know. All of the packmates will,” Scott pointed out. “Jackson’s probably already called Lydia, but I’ll let Allison know.” He hated leaving Erica, especially when she was so upset, but if he was going to trust her with anyone, Stiles would be at the top of that list. “Text me if she needs anything.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Stiles promised, his attention shifting back to the heartbroken girl in his arms.

Scott left without another word, working with Isaac and Jackson to come up with some story for how Boyd died to give his family. They ended up calling Melissa and arranged to bring Boyd there. That way they could go through the process in a more clinical and official way, and steer clear of the supernatural side of Boyd’s death. The Sheriff ended up getting involved, and all three boys had to give statements. They kept their stories simple, claiming they had been camping out in the woods when Boyd had been attacked by something, and they brought him to the hospital as fast as they could.

Instead of returning to Erica’s loft, Jackson decided to go to Lydia’s for the night, and Isaac went up to Derek’s loft to check on Cora. Scott felt drained as he walked into Erica’s home, about to go into the bedroom when he noticed Erica standing next to the couch by the window. “Erica?” he said, glancing towards the bedroom and hearing Stiles’s heavy breathing and steady heartbeat. He crossed the room to her, placing his hand on her back and turning her towards him. The sight of her red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks made his stomach twist. “We couldn’t have stopped it.”

“How can you say that?” she shook her head. “It was- I flipped the breakers. I helped them kill Boyd.”

“Erica, no,” he insisted, cupping her face in his hands. “It’s not your fault. If you didn’t flip the breakers, Stiles or Lydia or someone else would have. Or the power never would have been cut, and it would have gone wrong another way. Or it would have gone right, but there’s no way of knowing what could have been. We can’t… We just have to accept what is. We accept what is, and change what we can. We just can’t change this.”

“It’s not fair,” she repeated once more that day, sniffling as she felt herself starting to tear up again. “I don’t understand. Why did it work for me? How come you could bring me back, but we couldn’t bring him back too?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered, brushing his thumb along her cheek comfortingly before slipping a hand into her hair. “All I know is that I’m glad it worked for you. I wish it had worked for Boyd, especially to save you from this.” He pulled her close when her face broke, soft sobs escaping her as she leaned into his embrace.

Scott swept her off of her feet and carried her back to her room, placing her in the middle of the bed next to Stiles before climbing onto the other side. She turned towards him, crying softly into his chest as he grazed his fingers through her hair. In his sleep, Stiles turned over and curled up around Erica, nuzzling into her hair and reaching his arm around until it draped over both Erica and Scott’s sides. They all slept like that, Erica nestled between them as she drifted in and out of sleep for the next several hours. Every time she woke up, and she felt the sharp pain that came with losing a packmate, Stiles or Scott would wake up too and comfort her until she fell back asleep.

For two days, the Hale pack and those that cared for them were left in shambles. Derek was nowhere to be found, and his betas weren’t equipped to handle the loss of their packmate without him. Jackson hadn’t answered any of Erica or Isaac’s texts, Lydia eventually calling Scott on his behalf to ask that they give him space. Cora had been alternating between disappearing for hours and returning to Derek’s loft just to trash the place in anger. Isaac hid in his room for the most part, seemingly resurfacing only late at night to clean up the mess Cora left.

Erica was worrying them the most though. She was nearly catatonic for the first 24 hours after reviving Boyd failed, and then they couldn’t get her to stop moving. It started with a call from Mrs. Boyd asking for photos for Boyd’s funeral and led to her full involvement in the planning of the event. She helped prepare meals for the family flying out, picked up posters and flowers, and even helped pick out the casket. Scott and Stiles had been with her the entire time, offering opportunities for her to slow down or for them to take on more so she could do less, but she refused. She was determined to do it all herself, even if it meant pushing away the feelings she was struggling with.

All of her hard work paid off in the end, the funeral passing without drama or much fanfare. It was a fitting goodbye to Boyd, who was kind and strong but didn’t care for anything too flashy. He had made an impact on those that mattered, and every one of them showed up to give their final farewells. To his packmates, it all passed too soon. Not enough words were said to express the loss they felt. The brave composure Erica had maintained in order to get them all there and through that day started to crumble. Boyd was gone, and all that was left to do was mourn him.

“The first time I met Boyd was in middle school,” Erica muttered, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as Scott and Stiles stood by her side. The rest of the pack looked at each other before glancing over at Erica to find tears welling in her eyes. “It, um, it was the first class I’d ever had without Scott or Stiles in it, and I didn’t know where to sit. Boyd was sitting in the back, and he saw me, and he just smiled and nodded to the desk next to him. He didn’t say a word to me for months, but he’d smile at me every day, and with that smile, he’d make me feel comfortable and safe. All he’d ever have to do is smile, and everything would be okay.”

“I loved his smile,” Cora added, her jaw clenched as she blinked back tears, refusing to cry. “Didn’t get to see it a lot in the vault, but sometimes, I’d start ranting about all the things I’d want to do to the alphas, and he’d just smile. It should have made me angrier, but it helped, somehow.”

“He was good at that,” Isaac recalled. “He always seemed to know how to help. He could explain things in a way that you could understand without feeling smaller, or he could point out a solution that is so obvious you couldn’t believe you never thought of it.”

“That’s because he was one of the smartest guys in our class,” Lydia said with a small smile. “He gave me a run for my money most of the time, but he didn’t like to brag. Once, he even scored better than me on a test, and instead of teasing me about it, he just offered to share his notes and study materials for the next test.”

“He was a good guy,” Jackson stated, clearing his throat as he wrapped his arm around Lydia’s shoulders. “I’m, uh, I’m gonna miss him.”

That was what broke Erica, a sharp sob escaping her before she covered her face with her hands. She wasn’t sure who turned her towards them, but suddenly she was in someone’s arms as another person wrapped around her from behind. More arms and hands seemed to enter the mix, and when she looked up again, she found her entire pack surrounding her. They were all crying, their heads leaning forward and against each other as they tried to find comfort in the embrace. They had tried to heal apart, in their own ways, but they needed one another to get through this. They were a pack, and even though they had lost one of their members, they could and should depend on each other.

Parting ways after the group hug, Allison asked Scott if he could go somewhere with her. As much as he hated the idea of leaving Erica, he also knew Allison wouldn’t ask him to leave her at that moment unless it was important. He promised to meet up with Erica and Stiles later, waiting until his best friends had climbed into the Jeep and driven away before leaving with Allison.

Jackson and Lydia agreed to drive Isaac and Cora back to the loft, the four of them leading the way upstairs with Stiles and Erica trailing behind them. They went all the way to Derek’s loft, but it was still empty. Their alpha had not returned since Boyd died, and they had no way of knowing where he was or if he would come back.

“There’s really been no sign of him?” Jackson questioned, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Do you really expect he would come back here, of all places?” Cora retorted. “If he doesn’t kill us, the alpha pack will kill him. He’s hiding out. It’s what we were trained to do.”

“What do you mean?” Lydia wondered.

“When we were younger, the hunters were a much more formidable force than they are now,” Cora explained. “Once, Derek and Peter had to hide out in a root cellar to escape them. They were there for two days, waiting, hiding. That’s what we’re taught to do when the hunters find us - hide and heal.”

“Okay, so is two days standard then, or are we thinking Derek’s on, like, some extended getaway?” Stiles inquired.

“Why does it matter?” Isaac muttered.

“Why does it-” Stiles gaped. “Let’s recap the last few weeks, shall we? My best friend was killed and brought back to life. My other best friend tried to kill himself. His boss nearly got ritually sacrificed. A girl that I’ve known since I was three was ritually sacrificed. Boyd was killed by alphas. Do you want me to keep going? ‘Cause I can, alright? For, like, an hour.”

“What’s your point, Stiles?” Erica prompted.

“You think Derek can do anything about that?” Cora asked him.

“Well, since he’s the one everyone seems to be after, it’s more like he should do something about it, yeah,” Stiles decided.

“I don’t know,” Cora started. “There’s something different about him now. He wasn’t like this when we knew him.”

“What was he like?” Stiles wondered.

“Oh who cares?” Erica snapped, surprising them all. “Derek is supposed to be the alpha. He’s supposed to be here when we need him. Have any of you seen him since Boyd died? Because I sure as hell haven’t.”

“He’s still our alpha,” Isaac reminded her, his brows furrowed together.

“Whatever,” Erica grumbled, walking towards the windows with her arms crossed over her chest.

Stiles sighed, then looked back over at Cora. “What was Derek like when you knew him?”

Cora opened her mouth to answer him when they heard footsteps descending the spiral staircase. They all turned and watched Peter coming down to join them, answering Stiles’s question in the process. “A lot like Scott, actually,” he told them. “A lot like most teenagers - unbearably romantic, profoundly narcissistic, tolerable really only to other teenagers.”

“Doesn’t sound all that different to how he is now, ‘cept maybe less tolerable,” Jackson mused, plopping down on the couch with Lydia settling against his side.

“Yeah, like you’re Mr. Congeniality,” Isaac snarked, dodging a pillow Jackson tossed towards him.

“What happened? What changed him?” Stiles asked the Hales.

“Well, the same thing that changes a lot of young men,” Peter explained, smirking slightly when Erica turned towards him. “A girl.”

“You’re telling me some girl broke his little heart?” Stiles clarified. “That’s why Derek is the way he is?”

“Do you remember Derek before he was an alpha had blue eyes?” Peter reminded him.

“I remember,” Erica answered automatically, knowing she had used that fact to get Derek to agree not to kill the kanima the year before.

“What the hell does blue eyes have to do with anything?” Jackson demanded.

“Do you know why some wolves have blue eyes?” Peter asked Stiles directly.

Stiles shook his head, looking at the other wolves before admitting, “I just always thought it was, like, a genetic thing.”

“No, there’s a reason,” Isaac shook his head, looking over at Jackson. “He never told you?”

“Told me what?” Jackson replied, sitting up and raising his brows as he waited for an answer.

“If you want to know what changed Derek, you need to know what changed the color of his eyes,” Peter told them. He waited until they had all settled, either in seats or wherever they were standing, with their full attention on him. He then began to tell them of a human girl named Paige that stole Derek’s heart with stubbornness, passion, and an attitude that the young werewolf had found irresistible. He explained how the teens met, and how Derek had to work to win her over.

“Okay, so if Derek was a sophomore back then, how old was he?” Stiles wondered, glancing over at Peter. “How old were you? How old are you now?”

“Not as young as we could have been, but not as old as you might think,” Peter answered.

“Okay, that was frustratingly vague,” Stiles grumbled, turning to Cora. “How old are you?”

“I’m seventeen,” Cora answered.

“See, that’s an answer,” Stiles commented. “That’s how we answer people.”

“Well, seventeen how you’d measure in years,” Cora amended, causing Isaac to snort.

“Alright, I’m just gonna drop it,” Stiles gave in, waving a hand and moving on. “What happened to Derek and the cello girl?”

“And what does this have to do with blue eyes?” Jackson tossed out there, exhaling abruptly through his nose when Lydia patted his chest comfortingly.

“What do you think happened?” Peter replied. “They were teenagers. One minute, it’s ‘I hate you, don’t talk to me.’ The next, it’s frantic groping in any dark corner they could manage to find themselves alone in for five minutes.” He continued to tell them about their favorite spot, an abandoned distillery outside of Beacon Hills, pausing only when Stiles questioned his source. “Back then, I wasn’t just Derek’s uncle. I was his best friend, his closest confidante. That’s how I know.”

If Erica thought Peter was an unreliable narrator before, she was even more dubious of the tale he spun for them. In all the time she and Derek had spent together, he never implied he and Peter were close, even before the fire. He acknowledged they were family, and that bond alone kept Peter alive most days, but he never mentioned any intimacy beyond that. It would make sense that Peter would make his bond with Derek seem closer than it was, but other than that, he gained nothing from lying. He went on to tell them that Ennis, Kali, and Deucalion had brought their packs to discuss the hunters with Talia Hale, who was seen and respected as a powerful alpha at the time. Peter shared that Ennis was angry over the murder of one of his betas, but didn’t find satisfaction from the other alphas and left a spiral carved into the distillery wall.

Dragging his finger through the condensation on a nearby window pane, Peter recreated the spiral. “Our mark for vendetta,” he explained, glancing over at Erica beside him.

“Man, you guys really take that revenge thing to, like, a whole new level, don’t you?” Stiles commented.

“It’s not just revenge,” Cora stated. “Losing a member of your pack isn’t like losing family.”

“It’s like you lose a limb,” Isaac completed for her.

“They wouldn’t even let him see the body,” Peter added, recounting how Ennis had stormed the hospital and caused a scene that Stiles’s dad ended up being called to break up.

“I don’t get it,” Cora interrupted. “What does this have to do with Derek?”

“And blue eyes!” Jackson shouted once more, growing more frustrated that the color of his eyes still hadn’t been explained.

“Everything,” Peter told them. “It’s never just a single moment. It’s a confluence of events. Personally, I looked at Ennis’s circumstances, I saw a profound loss. Derek saw something different. He saw opportunity.”

“Opportunity?” Stiles repeated, rubbing his hands together as he leaned forward. “To do what?”

“To always be with her,” Peter answered. He proceeded to paint a picture of a lovesick Derek, so smitten with Paige that he lost himself in her, the music she created, and the way she made him feel. “The thing was, he had this constant fear. He was obsessing over it, thinking about it all night, all day, always on his mind.” His attention shifted to Erica again, walking towards her as he continued. “One day, she would find out, and she would freak out at the monster he really was. The only solution he could find, the only way to solve his problem, to quiet that fear, was to turn her.”

“You’re lying,” Erica insisted, shaking her head.

“I kept telling him not to do it,” Peter assured her. “Every day the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became. You know teenagers. I bet he even blames me. He’s probably convinced himself the whole thing was my idea.” He frowned sympathetically at Erica, then moved away from her and towards his niece instead. He explained how Derek saw all of the alphas in the area as a chance to turn Paige without having to ask his mother.

“Why wouldn’t Talia turn Paige?” Isaac wondered. “I mean, she was his mom, right? Wouldn’t she want to make him happy?”

“My mom didn’t become the alpha she was by turning random people,” Cora told him. “In fact, I don’t think my mom ever turned anyone into a werewolf. Everyone in our pack was either born to the family or joined through marriage. Her strength came from them - from us. Because we were all so close, it made the pack stronger, and her stronger as a result.”

“But she didn’t do it all on her own,” Peter reminded her. “An alpha does get their strength from their pack, but to that same measure, they are only as strong as their pack and their advisors.”

“What advisors?” Stiles questioned.

“Like Deaton,” Erica realized, remembering what he had said to Derek about a promise made to his mother.

“They keep us connected to humanity,” Cora explained. “But they’re a secret even in the pack. Sometimes only the alpha knows who the emissary is. Derek and I had no clue about Deaton.”

“Or his sister, Morrell,” Peter added.

“She’s an emissary too?” Stiles gaped.

“For the alpha pack,” Peter confirmed.

“Oh my god, of course,” Lydia laughed dryly, surprised she hadn’t realized it sooner.

“Our guidance counselor?” Stiles emphasized, clearly more surprised than Lydia. He looked around and found that he was the only one as surprised as he was. “Why the hell don’t you people tell me any of this stuff, huh? I shared some really intimate details with her.”

“And did she give you good advice?” Cora wondered.

“Actually, yeah,” Stiles admitted.

“That’s what they do,” Peter told him. “That’s what Deaton used to do for Talia. Derek knew that Deaton would advise against turning Paige, so he had to take matters into his own hands.”

“Which alpha did he ask to turn her, if not his mother?” Erica asked.

“There was only one that had suffered a loss in his pack recently, only one that was looking to build his power,” Peter detailed.

“Ennis?” Cora answered. “Why would you choose him?”

“Why not?” Peter replied. “Ennis needed a new member for his pack. Paige was young and strong. Doing a favor for Derek meant Ennis would be in good with Talia. Back then, everybody wanted to be in good with her.”

“He doesn’t remember it was Ennis, does he?” Stiles figured out.

“If he does, he keeps it to himself,” Peter assumed.

“So then what happened?” Stiles prompted. “Did he turn her?”

“Almost,” Peter muttered, turning away from the group. “Derek got cold feet at the last minute. He came at Ennis. A 15-year-old boy against a giant. There was no reason for him to fight. She’d already been bitten.”

“So did she turn?” Cora asked, her eyes widening slightly.

“She should have,” Peter stated. “Most of the time, the Bite takes. Most of the time.”

“But not all the time,” Erica sighed. Derek had been worried about that when she asked him to turn her. He had mentioned it when Jackson first rejected the Bite. She remembered how he had talked about someone else he knew that rejected the Bite, and the way he couldn’t say what had happened to that someone.

“When you offered it to me, you said, ‘if it doesn’t kill you,’” Stiles recalled.

“If,” Peter nodded.

“Is that what was happening to me?” Jackson asked, looking over at Erica. “The black ooze, the slow powers, the hallucinations - those were all because my body was fighting the Bite?”

“Who would have guessed turning into a murderous lizard was the better alternative in that situation?” Isaac muttered to himself.

“What happened to Paige?” Erica directed to Peter. “When Derek realized she was rejecting the Bite, what did he do?”

“He tried to help her, even asked me what was happening to her,” Peter explained, walking around the room as he spoke. “He knew the answer, though. It didn’t matter that she was young and strong. Some people just aren’t made for this. But she fought. She struggled desperately, trying to survive. Derek stayed with her, taking away her pain in the hopes that she would start healing and everything would be okay, but it wasn’t enough.” Erica gasped softly at the realization, her head turning away as she imagined a 15-year-old Derek being forced to take away the life of the first girl he ever loved just to stop her from feeling any more pain. “I remember taking her body from his arms, to the woods, to a place where I knew that it would be found. Another in a long line of Beacon Hills animal attacks.”

“What about Derek?” Cora asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she walked towards her uncle.

“Taking an innocent life takes… something from you as well,” Peter told her. “A bit of your soul… Darkening it, dimming the once brilliant, golden yellow to a cold, steel blue.” He turned his head upwards, his eyes flashing as he said, “Like mine.”

“That’s why I have blue eyes,” Jackson nodded. “All of the lives Matt made me take when I was the kanima - that’s what changed them.”

“I’m sorry Derek never told you,” Isaac offered to his packmate.

“Whatever,” Jackson grumbled, standing and walking out of the loft.

“I should…” Lydia started, pinching her lips together as she gestured after her boyfriend.

“I’ll come with you,” Isaac decided, briskly following Lydia out of the room. The rest of the teens looked around at each other, Erica watching Peter make his way back upstairs now that he had finished telling his tale.

“What?” Cora suddenly said, staring at Stiles. “What’s this- What’s this look on your face?”

“What look?” Stiles replied, blinking at her.

“The kind of look that makes me want to punch you,” Cora answered.

“Oh my god. You are so Derek’s sister,” Stiles commented. “I forgot.”

“Pretty sure that’s just what his face looks like,” Erica offered, managing a small smirk when Stiles squinted at her.

“Well, what is with the look?” Cora asked again.

“I just don’t believe him,” Stiles muttered, gesturing up to where Peter had disappeared. “Alright, in Ms. Blake’s class, we’re reading Heart of Darkness, and it’s in first person, right? Narrated by Marlow. The thing is that he’s-”

“An unreliable narrator,” Erica finished for him, a bit stunned that Stiles had come to the same conclusion she had.

“Exactly,” Stiles nodded. “You know the details of it have changed, you know, just because of his perspective.”

“Well, then we heard the story from Peter’s perspective,” Cora concluded.

“Right, and I don’t think we got the whole story,” Stiles added.

“So, what, are- are you just gonna ask Derek about the girl he fell in love with and then killed?” Cora wondered.

“No,” Erica said, shaking her head. “I will.”

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Stiles questioned.

“Probably not, but he’s more likely to tell me than he is to tell you,” Erica pointed out. “If he ever comes back, that is.”

“He’ll come back,” Cora assured her.

“How do you know?” Stiles asked.

“I just do,” Cora shrugged. “There’s too much here that matters to him for him to just pack up and leave. Beacon Hills is his home. He’ll fight to defend it.”

“Well I’m not going to hold my breath,” Erica decided. “If he turns up here, let me know, alright?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Cora agreed, standing and making her way towards the stairs to head back up to her room.

Stiles glanced over at Erica, who managed a small smile, then the two of them began walking down to Erica’s apartment together. “Do you think Jackson will be okay?” Stiles asked just to break the silence. Erica looked back at him, raising an eyebrow, which had him chuckling awkwardly. “Not that I care about him or anything. He just looked really upset when he left.”

“Isaac will help him work out any anger he has, and Lydia will pick him back up again the way only she knows how,” Erica mused, closing her apartment door once Stiles had joined her inside. When she turned back around, he was waiting to pull her gently into his arms. She sighed as she sunk into the embrace, laying her forehead on his chest as his hands splayed on her back. “Thank you for being here. Not just, like, now, but, you know, the last couple of days.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Stiles shrugged, adjusting his arms so he was hugging her tightly with his head resting against hers. “I know I’ve dropped the ball a bit the last couple of years, but it felt like I needed to be here. It felt like you needed me, and I didn’t want to let you down again.”

“I did need you,” she admitted, inhaling shakily as she lifted her head and looked up at him. His arms loosened to accommodate the change, but he kept her close, his eyes meeting hers when her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “Stiles…” she breathed as he began moving towards her. He paused, giving her a chance to stop him, then leaned closer. His nose brushed against hers, her breath stalling in her chest as her eyes fell closed. She had always dreamed about kissing Stiles, and now it was going to happen.

“You won’t believe who I just talked to!” Scott shouted when he burst into Erica’s apartment. Stiles and Erica jumped apart, but it was clear to Scott what was about to happen if he hadn’t interrupted. “Uh, I… Sorry, I should have knocked.”

“It’s fine,” Erica stammered, walking to her kitchen as she tried to steady her racing heart. Part of her was disappointed that her kiss had been interrupted, but there was a part of her that felt guilty that Scott had caught them in such a compromising position. Part of her felt like she had betrayed him, somehow, and that was a part of her she was nowhere near ready to face given everything else on their plates.

“Yeah, uh, don’t worry about it,” Stiles added, watching her walk away before shaking his head and refocusing on Scott. “Who did you just talk to?”

Scott was still a little too stunned at first to realize Stiles was talking to him, but when the question registered, he cleared his throat. “Allison brought me to talk to Gerard.” He noticed Erica stiffen and took a step towards her as he continued. “He’s weak. Too weak to hurt any of us ever again. But he had information on Deucalion that we can use against the alphas.”

“And what did he want in return for that information?” Erica asked, knowing that a monster like Gerard wouldn’t do anything unless it benefitted him.

“For me to take his pain away. Some of it, anyways,” Scott told her. “But I warned him that if he lied to me, I’d go back and pain would be the last of his worries.”

“Nice,” Stiles chuckled, patting Scott on the back. “Alright, what did the wrinkly douche have to say?”

They sat in Erica’s living room as Scott shared the story Gerard had detailed for him. Strangely enough, the events of Gerard’s story seemed to supplement what they had already learned from Peter and gave them more of an idea of how the alpha pack came to be. It also provided much-needed insight into Deucalion’s abilities and how they could use his blindness to their advantage. At the very least, it was a good place to start. The more they learned about the alpha pack, the better chance they had at surviving them. The odds of them all making it out of this war alive were still pretty slim, but they had all that they needed to keep fighting.

#erica reyes #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #scirica #scerica #sterica #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf #peter hale #my fic

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meant-to-be-a-hero · 1 year

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Season Six, Episode One: Memory Lost

The final season. Can I get to the end before Christmas? We'll see.

6A is the Ghost Riders/Evil Nazi Lion Man stuff, from what I remember. Stiles is in like 3 episodes out of 10. Theo comes back in...06x06, I think? And there's creepy ghost Claudia hanging around.

We begin in the sky, Ghost Rider style, because of course we do.

Oh, hey, I thought Hayden left between 5B and 6A, must be between 6A and 6B instead.

"There's no jack." You're a werewolf, you idiot!

That's a very low bar for good dates.

I feel like you can't see the Northern Lights in Beacon Hills, somehow.

Scott, you're a werewolf, not a superhero. You don't have to stop normal crimes.

They're always gonna need you :(

The Ghost Riders are another one for the "Villains With A Cool Aesthetic" pile. They don't beat out the Dread Doctors, but they're pretty cool.

I don't remember the opening changing that much for Season 6. I knew the parents were regulars now, but I didn't realise they got a spot in the opening. Also that most of it's now old footage from previous seasons, bar the new Ghost Rider stuff. I wonder if it changes again in 6B.

Doggy! Hi Malia!

Stiles wanting stuff to be happening and everyone else being happy that it's over is an interesting dichotomy to explore. Shame he's just right and it all goes wrong again lmao.

Oh no, Nazi Science Teacher!

Pfft, Corey crushing on him too is very funny.

They do the whole 'what we learn in class is relevant to the ongoing plot' thing often, don't they? The chimeras, now the idea that observing things changes their behaviour like the Ghost Riders, and I feel like some of 3A was reflected in Jennifer's English lessons.

Hey, the evil (lower case e) Biology teacher is being helpful for a change. Although I don't know why Scott's asking her chemistry questions.

Banshees sense things, and the Ghost Riders don't want to be sensed. That's going to cause problems.

"Wanna split up?" - They mirror that in 06x10, I believe.

Those photos with no one in them are creepy.

Are you a Ghost Rider or a Stormtrooper, man? He shot at Stiles four times and missed every time, he was basically a stationary target as well.

Riders on the storm!

Hayden, you're not helping. You're basically killing all your boyfriend's self-confidence.

Alex's room, Stiles' jersey, there's a parallel happening here and no one's noticed it yet.

Ouch, Liam.

Oh, the HVAC guy is Mister Douglas' first victim, right? He eats pituitary glands, if I remember it correctly, because he's nasty.

"Tell me later." - Pain. So much pain.

Speaking of pain, everyone's forgetting Stiles already :(

"Tell me your name." - What a good build-up for that gut punch between Stiles and his dad. Ouch.

"Who is this?" "Who's Stiles?" - AHHHHHHH

"Remember I love you." - Oh ffs now I'm sad.

Huh, Marti Matulis is one of the Riders; he was one of the Doctors too.

There's a mirror here with Season 5 in that there's 3 supernatural bad guys (Dread Doctors/Ghost Riders) and one human one (Theo/Douglas). It's a good formula.

#Teen Wolf #Lem's Teen Wolf Rewatch #Beware The Liveblogging Lem

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 9 months

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Hi! Sorry to bother you, but I'm wondering if you could help me? Do you know of any (Sterek) fics where Scott joins Derek's pack? I just really want to see Stiles and Scott interacting w Hale Pack 2.0! Thank you.

Hi anon! @kevaaronday made this list for us.

Turn back time by A _pretty_good_pair (23/23 | 49,715 | Teen | Sterek) There's no one left. No one. Stiles decides in his grief to try and fix everything he did wrong the first time around. Will he be able to save everyone or will he relive the pain of losing them all once again?

True by inatshej (1/1 | 38,760 | Explicit | Sterek) The point is, anything can be believed to be true now. If magic can convince Stiles that he loves Derek – weird, angry, too-many-issues Derek – then how is he supposed to know what is actually true, and what is him being mind-screwed?

And Derek can go fuck this mates concept.

Spaz and the Sourwolf by TheRealDanniX (9/9 | 24,674 | Teen | Sterek) When Stiles comes across something he shouldn't in the Preserve he ends up on four legs. Not that anyone in the Pack knows it's him. He's just hoping they can figure it out before anything else bad happens.

clenching my jagged jaws (over the capture) by Marishna (1/1 | 21,495 | Teen | Sterek) Derek Hale was never supposed to be alpha, but he's a good one. He doesn't need any help and he definitely doesn't need an emissary.

Stiles Stilinski is Derek Hale's emissary and come hell or high water he's going to see the Hale pack through the impending arrival of the alpha pack, even if it means he can never return to Beacon Hills after.

The Vasov Heir by neil4god (12/12 | 20,665 | Not Rated | Sterek) It was summer vacation. He was supposed to go to bed late and sleep even later, he should not be in a car at the ass crack of dawn (12:30) on his way to who know's where. That was not part of the plan, but then he hadn't planned on introducing the pack to his sort of fiance either or introducing them to his family, but his darkest secrets are being dragged into the light and Stiles may not survive it.

When the Wind Blows (the Grass Must Bend) by V1p3r_Qu33n (9/9 | 17,845 | Teen | Scallison) “Why is it a problem that he doesn’t know I’m here?” Scott was just getting more confused with every sentence she spoke and everytime he asked a question the answer just resulted in even more confusion.

She looked past him to a sleek black car that had just pulled up outside the house across from hers. “I think you’re about to find out.” - - - aka: the packs a dysfunctional family. Scott doesn't have a clue what's going on (though he's starting to figure it out), Derek's just trying to keep his betas in line (though they don't always like his methods), and Isaac's just trying to survive.

Learning Curve by Inell (1/1 | 6,050 | Explicit | Poly Pack) When Scott stops by to check on Stiles after he misses school, he isn't expecting to be introduced to the world of polyamory or to agree to become part of the Hale pack in such an unique way.

Heart Smart by Simplistically_content (1/1 | 3,578 | Teen | Sterek) Scott wasn't book smart like Stiles, he wasn't werewolf smart like Derek (was meant to be), he wasn't genius smart like Lydia, his decision making hadn't really given him the best track record where those kind of smarts mattered. No. Where Scott believed he was smartest, was in his heart, in his good nature. Sometimes he screwed up, but no one's perfect, are they?

A place you call home by TalesoftheEnchantedForest (1/1 | 771 | Gen | Sterek) Derek takes a walk through the newly built Hale house and is suddenly overcome by memories, both older and more recent ones. Then he realizes what was missing all along - his pack. Now with Stiles and his friends by his side, he has a home again.

(This is all flashbacks and feels, my dudes.)

Ice(d) Cream by LizzieLance (1/1 | 500 | Gen) “This is indoor snow, baby. Dodgeballllllll.”

“ Throw it, throw it!”

“Stiles, no!”

“Stiles, yes!”

“Over here!”

Whap!

“Ohhh shit.”

Wait, what?? By hugs4saturn (1/1 | 424 | Gen | Sterek) Scott isn't the Alpha.

#teen wolf #sterek #scallison #scott mccall #derek hale #stiles stilinski #stiles and scott

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nephilimeq · 2 years

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Scott is groundbreaking alright, but not in the good way. As people have pointed out, the character of Scott McCall is nothing but a cheap power fantasy. Scott has no obligations or expectations of behavior put upon him: he can be mean and cruel to everyone around him, and his friends still continue to love him. Scott stans saw Scott, whom they claim is "superior" (except that he isn't), "abused" (except that he isn't), "feminine, neurodivergent and queer coded" (except that he isn't), a "genius" (except that he isn't) and a "good friend" (except that he isn't) and projected ALL their fantasies onto him. That's why the term Self Insert Stan with A Scott McCall Name Tag is extraordinarily accurate. Scott gaslights, belittles, dehumanizes, abuses and lashes out at his friends throughout the whole show; but instead of reaping the consequences of his own shitty actions and behavior, he is praised and rewarded with a 'True Alpha' title for it. No wonder antis like him so much

Okay, so this was an anonymous ask in two parts that I have put into one so that I can answer it all at once.

First of all, this isn’t strictly a question, but I can do a breakdown and an analysis of what’s being said, so let’s get into it. Here goes nothing.

“The character of Scott McCall is nothing but a cheap power fantasy.” - Yes and no. I will agree that Scott started out as a potentially good character, but it felt less like a power fantasy at times because of the nice-guy trope that was also constantly being pushed alongside it.

They were trying to do two opposing things at once: a power fantasy and the nice guy wins in the end. Shoving these two tropes together makes a very unrealistic character, and puts the viewer into the headspace of an eleven-year-old boy.

“Superior, abused, feminine, neurodivergent, queer coded, genius, and good friend” - I agree that none of these apply to him. He gained a superiority complex when he realized that he was a werewolf, which we see in how he started acting around his best friend and his rivals. Immediately ditching Stiles, letting Lydia kiss and use him to make Jackson jealous, and using his powers to beat up on him as well during lacrosse.

There was one incident of him being injured by his dad when he was a kid, and it was an accident.

I think they tried to make him feminine by having him be more emotional (his strong feelings for Allison/Kira/Malia), but that backfired and only made him look unhinged.

He is not even close to being neurodivergent, and I am speaking as someone with both ADHD and autism. He makes friends easily, focuses when he needs to, and can maintain relationships whenever he wants to--all of which are the opposite of clinical neurodivergence. (I know my sources, I will come at you if you try to fight me on this)

We never see him questioning his sexuality in the show, not once, whereas we have several moments where Stiles is questioning his own sexuality out loud, making Stiles the canonically queer coded character.

Genius? None of his plans were ever the good ones, even if they worked. When his plans did work, it was always at the expense of someone else who wasn’t even his enemy (e.g. forcing Derek to bite someone he didn’t want to).

And a good friend? He was a good friend for about the first episode of the show. He was willing to follow Stiles out to the woods--and that’s about as far as it went, with Stiles holding up their friendship for the rest of the show until Scott completely abandoned him when Theo came to town.

Okay, so we have established, through canon, that Scott is none of the above things. I now want to address why he is none of these things.

In Jeff Davis’ attempt to mimic a “chosen one” narrative, he forgot to do one very key thing: when you give your chosen one flaws, those flaws have to be a consistent stumbling block in their character. If your “chosen one” isn’t also learning from their mistakes, only avoiding all of their consequences by writing it as others suffering the consequences of the “chosen one’s” choices, then you have created a OP.

An OP is a character that is Over-Powered. You give them so much power, you have made any heroic plot line you give them practically meaningless. They can simply overpower their enemy through almost sheer force of will. I’ve mentioned this in a previous post, and I feel it bears mentioning again.

Scott McCall never learns from his mistakes because he never acknowledges them as mistakes... --Causing everyone else to suffer the consequences of his actions.

This is why he is an unbelievable character, but, unfortunately, a believable person.

I know men like him in real life. They genuinely think they are amazing and because no one else calls them out on it, they keep on believing it. It requires showing one face to your family, another to your friends, and yet another to your enemies. They get away with things because when people do call them out, no one else believes them because they’ve never seen that side of that person. It takes someone from the outside, or someone who is smart enough, who can see their full circle of influence to see their true nature.

This is why Derek and Stiles were so dangerous to Scott. They were the ones seeing the other sides of Scott that he didn’t want them to see.

A good example of this is when Stiles killed Donovan in self-defense and Scott abandoned his trust in him for the new beta, Theo, who had just arrived in town; the beta that was telling him exactly what he wanted to hear and was pandering to his ego with his black and white thinking. Stiles was explaining the bigger picture, the shades of gray that existed in the real world, and Scott immediately shut him down.

And this is why the nogitsune was one of the most dangerous threats that they ever faced: it could see all of Scott’s various faces because Stiles was seeing the whole board, and the nogitsune used it against him and everyone else.

I realize that this has been a long post, so I digress.

But there you go.

#teen wolf meta #teen wolf #scott mccall is a bad friend #scott mccall character discourse #npheq ask and answer #for anon

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midnightwinterhawk · 3 years

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I put together a little collection of Sterek and Steter fics for funsies. “Just a few fics”, I thought, “nothing too crazy.” Thirty fics later I had to cut myself off and finalize the list. You can thank @the-cookie-of-doom for the inspiration.

These primarily fall under the Hurt Stiles Stilinski category because I apparently like to see my comfort characters suffer. Most of these have hopeful/happy endings but mind the tags. For reals.

Placed under a cut since I have no self control and this turned into a long post.

Sterek

adore to see your eyes fly by @1001cranes

(11,309 l E)

stiles is a pyromaniac, derek is a sociopath. a match made in some kind of heaven. teen wolf kink meme fill.

take my heart from me by @areiton

(23,188 l NR)

He didn't really mean to adopt Derek's pack of puppies. He didn't mean to make himself important to them.

To Derek.

He just wanted to keep them all safe.

That's all Stiles ever wanted.

"Why Can't You?" by @asterekmess

(3,602 l T)

Now. This was happening now, and he couldn’t be less prepared.

After a long night, things between Stiles and his father come to a head.

And You Say You're Alone by bi_leigh_bi

(30,314 l E)

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

A Victory March by @churkey

(2,688 l T)

When Stiles is eight he learns that nothing will be the same. His dad comes home one day after work and sits Stiles down for a talk. He explains that werewolves and all the monsters are real.

They're real and not hiding under anyone's bed.

Bury the Moon by darthjamtart

(16,592 l M)

First things get bad. Then they get worse. Stiles doesn’t know what he’s sacrificed until it’s too late.

Dying is the easy part.

Love's Violent Delights by @dexterous-sinistrous

(10,685 l E)

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted.

Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek.

Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

Empty by @discontentedwinter

(48,034 l M)

Jordan Parrish is the new sheriff of Beacon Hills, a town haunted by its past.

Your Vision Borrows Mine by hazyascent

(188,781 l E)

Stiles has encountered a fair share of monsters before, way out of his league - the kinds that children are afraid are hiding in their closets and under the bed.

He’d even become one himself when he was void. The nogitsune was in his house, his body, and his mind.

But the worst monster he’s ever faced took even more from him and got away with it.

It’s why Stiles has never really been as terrified of werewolves and kanimas and darachs as he should have been. They’re really not that scary, relatively speaking, and he has a whole team on his side. They always found a way to win - until they lost someone they really loved.

Stiles doesn’t know how to be normal, not after everything he’s done and everyone he’s hurt. The nogitsune is gone, but another monster is on its heels.

His uncle is back. And Stiles has never felt more alone.

It Was a Wednesday by @isthatbloodonhisshirt

(80,129 l M)

“What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?”

Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping.

Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death.

“Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least.

“Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

Tiny Houses by @ohmyjetsabel-blog

(77,183 l E)

"So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.

God, he dreams.

He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

I'm There in the Water by @spaceprincessem

(15,878 l T)

“But it’s—” Derek paused, his words unsure, “it’s not like us,” he swallows hard, chin dipping to his chest in frustration, “it’s like a…”

“An abomination,” Stiles finished, nodding his head as he finally lets his gaze really look at Derek since Scott had pulled them from the water.

He suddenly wished he hadn’t because the way Derek looks at him makes Stiles feel like he is ten years old again. Like Derek is seeing him for the first time since they accidentally fell into each other’s orbit all those years ago. Like Stiles isn’t a burden or invisible.

Like he is enough.

Or five times Stiles felt like he was drowning and the one time he finally caught his breath

Gunplay is Not Really Our Kink by theroguesgambit

(2,577 l M)

“The rules to the game are simple. One bullet, six chances. You pick it up and take turns pulling the trigger on the other man, or we gun you both down right now. You play along, only one of you has to die. Fun game, huh?”

Derek and Stiles are captured by a group of hunters and forced to play a twisted game that only one of them might walk away from.

The Price by theroguesgambit

(18,452 l M)

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Nieważny by Zethsaire

(2,037 l E)

The pack is gone, everything they've ever cared for destroyed. Now Stiles and Derek hunt the hunters, taking revenge in the only way they know how; blood.

Steter

Make Me Bleed by @asarcasticwitch

(2,304 l E)

Peter’s expression contorts, impressed or surprised, Stiles can't decipher, but the grin on his face proves he’s not exactly disappointed with the unexpected turn of events.

“Which bite exactly were you hoping for, hm?” The older man curls one hand around the back of Stiles’s neck, trailing his thumb along his pale, fragile throat.

Stiles tilts his head back in unyielding submission, giving the wolf no room to debate his sincerity. “I’m sure you can figure it out, Alpha.

Two Roads Converge in a Graveyard Town by @cywscross

(15,645 l T)

The Deadpool brings one more assassin to Beacon Hills. A man's gotta eat after all.

when you're going through hell (keep going for me) by cywscross

(57,022 l T)

Peter is abandoned in the aftermath of the fire, and Eichen House takes ruthless advantage. Six years later, when he's finally able to move again, he finds himself in a cell with a boy in a straitjacket.

(Kate’s biggest mistake was letting Peter live. Eichen House’s biggest mistake was letting Peter meet Stiles.)

Don't Fail Me Now by @discontentedwinter

(36,315 l E)

Stiles goes to Derek looking for help.

He finds Peter instead.

Peter takes what he's wanted for a very long time.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

(56,525 l M)

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Bite Down by EclipseWing (@shadow-of-the-eclipse)

(27,586 l M)

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

Into Eden by @graciebirdie

(12,232 l M)

Stiles deciding to bring home the stray alpha he'd hit with his jeep probably made him certifiable, if it hadn't turned out Peter was as crazy as he was.

Before you let go (and the light takes you in) by Issay

(4,032 l E)

Stiles makes one last errand - goes to leave flowers on all the other graves. Fuck, so many graves. The grief is as endless and as inescapable as the sky.

He goes home and there is a thing wearing his father's face, waiting for him in the kitchen.

Call My Name by KouriArashi ( @gingersnapwolves )

(81,370 l M)

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Hide my tears in the rain. by MrsRidcully

(6,865 l M)

After years spent successfully dodging werewolves, evil spirits and wendigos, it was a drunk driver who stole his Dad, a drunk driver with a suspended license and a record sheet as long as Stiles’s arm. Stiles would have laughed at the irony if he hadn’t been so busy screaming.

In My Veins Like Disease by romanoffbarton

(1,140 l T)

He tries to leave once.

Foreshock by @twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(22,816 l E)

The day Stiles’ mom died, he almost leveled his house.

Not on purpose. Not even by mistake, really. More by instinct.

Since then he's dug his fingers into everything his has left, holding on with desperation.

Desperation never stopped an earthquake.

Your Touch is My Choice by twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(2,171 l T)

The first time John does it, Stiles is two years old and about to run into the road.

“Mieczysław!” Heart pounding, John grabbed him by the back of his neck and got a hand around his tummy, snatching him back. “No, you have to stay away from the road,” he said firmly.

Shameful Company by Whispering_Sumire (@whispering-sumire755)

(38,779 l E)

"Did I turn into a unicorn?" Peter asks dryly, and Stiles glares at him for a moment before the laughter bubbles up, unbidden, nearly unwilling, and he looks so surprised at the sound, his shock dimming it for a moment before it bursts through with even more trembling ferocity. A long, thin, willowy hand curls into a soft fist over his mouth, and he's shaking, frail, more tears falling, but the copper of his eyes are glowing, crinkling around the edges and scrunched with mirth.

"No," Stiles chokes, chuckling wetly. "No, fuck you, a unicorn? What, like, Rainbowcreep? Zombiesparkle?"

[About a year before the fated Hale fire, Peter starts having nightmares that involve a woman with red hair. The nightmares lead to a spell that brings a man back through time, and, eventually, though the time-traveler is traumatized in the most horrific ways, and Peter's never been good with or for people, in general, they develop a bond that neither of them expects.]

Would You Forgive Me If I Called You Hope, Peter Hale? (Hope, By Any Other Name) by Whispering_Sumire

(10,099 l T)

Stiles has scars. He owns that, he accepts it, he's cataloged and memorized every single one, he's hyper fucking aware of them all.

"What do you want, Peter?" Having the more untrustworthy of the Pack getting protective weirds him the fuck out, leaves an odd fluttering in his chest, like moths, waiting perilously and suicidally to be burned.

He doesn't like it.

"You're injured," the man says, "and whatever it is, it's put you in enough pain that I nearly fainted when I-"

"- Used your werewolf mojo on me without my permission?" Stiles smirks, and Peter gives him a black look, crossing a leg over his knee and smoothing out some invisible wrinkle on his pants.

"Tell me the truth Stiles, how bad is it?"

[Or: The one where Stiles has scars, is more than a little fucked up, and Peter notices. He helps.]

#hurt/comfort #angst #dark #hurt/no comfort #angst with a happy ending #fic rec #be kind to yourself and mind the tags #Sterek #Steter #Stiles Stilinski #Derek Hale #Peter Hale #hurt Stiles Stilinski #Sterek fic #Steter fic #to the pain

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