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mrsstruggle · 2 years

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The Lost Child - Chapter 13 // Teen Wolf x Marvel AU

Summary: Y/N Stark was taken from her family when she was three years old. It's fifteen years later and her family believes she is dead. Then how is she living in Beacon Hills?

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Kidnapping, Possible Grammar Mistakes (please let me know if there is anything else)

Pairings: Derek Hale x Reader, Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner x Natasha Romanoff, Vision x Wanda Maximoff, & More To Come!

Previous Pairings: Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, Scott McCall x Allison Argent

Words: 1.9k

Note: I am posting every 2-3 days! At least I am trying to! My sister and I are trying to start a little jewelry business so my days have been a bit hectic.

Additional Note: While this is a Teen Wolf x Marvel AU, not everything is true to the shows/movies/comics. I had to change things for the story. This also loosely follows Teen Wolf Season 4.

One Last Note: Y/N was adopted by Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. I did this so that more people can see themselves in this story.

***I do not own Teen Wolf or Marvel or any related characters. This is a work of fanfiction and is meant for entertainment only.***

Masterlist

The Lost Child Masterlist

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“Y/N’s alive?” Sam wants to make sure he heard Bucky right.

The Avengers are sitting around the living room going through files as Bucky explains to Sam what is going on. Nick and Maria took the jet back to the compound to grab everyone’s gear and send a team to the old base where they found the files. Stiles, Derek, Scott, and Lydia left for Lydia’s lake house a while ago to meet up with the rest of their pack.

“We think so,” Bruce states.

“We know so,” Steve corrects him.

“You heard what the girl said. She knows when someone is dead and all the passwords were names of dead people.”

Steve gives Bruce a harsh look, “She also said she can sense when someone is about to die. That means they aren’t dead yet. Also, we just met her and we’re supposed to believe she has some connection to dead people.”

“We also didn’t believe in werewolves and yet here we are,” Nat mumbles under her breath.

“It was werewolves who took her from Hydra.” Sam informs everyone, thinking about the videos he just watched, “At least, I think it was werewolves. They looked like Y/N with glowing eyes and claws and shit. They killed everyone but they took Y/N. Why?”

“Werewolves took her?” Bucky questions.

“Yeah.”

“We should look up these people who claim they're Y/N’s friends.” Bucky states, still suspicious of Derek, “How do we know that they aren’t the ones who kidnapped her and have brainwashed her into forgetting us? How does she not remember us?”

“She was three when she was taken,” Bruce points out, “Do you remember anything from when you were three?”

“We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about Y/N,” Bucky bites back defensively.

“Does Pepper know?” Sam asks Tony.

“I’m not telling her anything until I have to,” Tony grumbles, reading through one of the files on Y/N.

“When is that?” Wanda questions.

“Whenever I feel like it.” Tony sighs, running his fingers through his hair in a stressed manner, “She’s the one who gave up on Y/N. She’s the one who so easily replaced her. She doesn’t deserve to know anything.”

“She’s still her daughter,” Bruce points out.

“Is she?”

“When are we going to tell the others?” Sam asks, thinking about Vision, Clint, and their other friends.

“We’ll tell them once we get her and Peter back and can 100% prove that she’s my daughter,” Tony states.

They continue to look through the files in silence except for the howls from the house across the lake.

“None of these files have any indication of where they could have her and Peter now.” Steve sighs, throwing the file in his hands onto the coffee table, “All they talk about is the multiple experiments they performed on her. On a fucking three-year-old.”

“Language,” Natasha mumbles under her breath.

“We aren’t going anywhere until we find something,” Tony states.

“Why did it take them fourteen years to come and find her?” Wanda questions, not understanding why Hydra would come and get her now, “What changed?”

“Maybe they were too busy with other things,” Sam suggests.

“We’ve raided multiple Hydra bases and none of them ever had any indication of Y/N or Shadow Wolf. They wouldn’t do that unless there’s a reason.” Steve doesn’t understand how there seems to be no trail leading them to Y/N. Even before when she was originally taken, they were never able to track her down, “According to the files, they took her when she was young because they thought it would be easier to brainwash her and more difficult to break her free. She's an adult now. She's not the same kid they took before.”

“Maybe her friends are having better luck than we’re having,” Natasha mumbles in frustration.

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“Liam, just try to control it,” Scott tries to calmly tell Liam, watching him struggle against the chains holding him against a wall in the basement.

“I’m trying,” Liam growls out. This wasn’t his first full moon but he still doesn’t have full control.

“Scott, I can watch him,” Malia tells Scott, aware that he wants to help Stiles search for Y/N.

Scott thinks for a moment, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. If he breaks free, I’ll make sure to kill him before he kills me.” Malia states nonchalantly.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t kill me,” Liam continues to struggle for control.

“Then don’t try to kill me,” Malia shrugs her shoulders.

“Malia, if he breaks from the chains, just yell for us. Don’t kill him.” Scotts tells her, hoping leaving them alone will be okay, “Liam, find something to anchor you or be your own anchor.”

Scott runs upstairs toward the rest of the pack. As he enters the living room, he can see Stiles hunched over the coffee table on his laptop he had Kira bring him. Mason is sat next to him reading through some of the Hydra files they were able to convince the Avengers to give them. Derek and Peter are on the couch going through the books they found on Hydra.

“Where’s Kira and Lydia?” Scott asks.

“They’re upstairs in the soundproof room. Lydia’s hoping to tap into whatever it is she does and see if she can find out anything about Y/N.” Mason informs him.

“What have we got?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Stiles sighs in frustration.

“Maybe we should just accept that she’s gone,” Peter shrugs his shoulders.

“Don’t even try and act like you don’t care.” Stiles scoffs at Peter’s fake unconcerned persona, “You were the first person here and you’ve read more of those books and files than both Derek and Mason combined. I’m sure if I asked one of the wolves in the room, they could hear how fast your heart is beating because you're scared.”

“I just happen to live closer than everyone else, I’m a fast reader, and I have a bad heart.”

“You live the furthest away,” Stiles points out.

“I happened to be out getting food.”

“What food? You didn’t bring any with you.”

“I didn’t have time to get any because you called me and told me I had to be here,” Peter grumbles.

“I told you my sister’s missing and that we’re meeting at Lydia’s cabin. I never said you had to be here.” Stiles points out.

“Can you two stop talking?” Derek groans, tired of listening to them argue. They are distracting him from the book he’s reading.

“He started it,” Peter mumbles under his breath.

“Okay, so these Hydra people took Y/N. They originally took her about fifteen years ago and now they’ve come back to get her.” Scott is trying to think of any logical reason for why they would take her in the first place or why they would take so long to come back and get her, “None of this makes any sense. Did they get her now because they saw her name on the Deadpool? Did they come and get her now because they were waiting on something or waiting for the right time?”

“So, she really is Y/N Stark?” Mason asks.

“Until I see a DNA test proving she’s Y/N Stark, I don’t believe a word they have to say.” Derek states.

“She’s not actually blood-related to Tony so how are they going to DNA test her?”

“Supposedly, they have some of her DNA from when she was a child to compare her to,” Stiles mumbles.

“You okay?” Scott asks Stiles.

“Why wouldn’t I be? My sister has been taken by some psycho terrorist group and the Avengers have come to take her away from me. I bet they have her packed up in a day and shipped back to live with them. I bet they don’t even care about the fact that her life is here, her family is here, and her friends are here. Everything she knows is here.” Stiles rants.

“They aren’t going to take her away.” Scott attempts to comfort the distraught Stiles.

“How do you know that?! You saw how they reacted when we were talking about her! How they reacted when they found out she’s alive! They thought she was dead! Why wouldn’t they take her away?!” Stiles scoffs in anger.

“They know she has a life here. You told them you’re her brother. They know Derek’s her boyfriend. They even know where she works. They won’t just take her away from all of that.” Scott tries to reason with him.

“What am I going to tell my dad? How am I supposed to tell him that there are people here who are Y/N’s original family?” Stiles looks down at the ground sadly.

“I mean, they aren’t technically her original family,” Mason points out.

Stiles gives him an annoyed look, “Stay out of this.”

“I should probably call my mom and tell her that Y/N won’t be at work tomorrow,” Scott sighs, pulling out his phone.

“Don’t tell her why. I don’t want her telling my dad anything.” Stiles states.

“She won’t tell him anything.”

“I also want to be the one to tell her what’s going on. I mean after our mom died your mom kinda became our mom, especially for Y/N. Our dad did his best but didn’t know how to handle things when Y/N started becoming a woman. Your mom was always there for her. She shouldn’t find out about everything over a phone call.” Stiles explains.

“I think I found something.” Mason states, reading back through the paragraph he just read, “You said Lydia heard her name in the fire but she thinks that she might’ve heard it earlier at Derek’s apartment, right? She didn’t know it was Y/N’s name because it sounded like it was underwater, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Scott answers him.

“I think they have her at Crater Lake.”

“Where?” Stiles asks with a confused look on his face.

“Crater Lake National Park. It’s in Oregon. My family and I went there once on vacation.” Mason informs them.

“I’m still not following.”

“Crater Lake is the deepest lake in America. It was formed after a massive volcano eruption which also led to the collapse of the volcano. Lydia heard her name underwater, it’s a massive lake. She heard her name in the fire, it's summer which means it's fire season there. Hydra even used to have ties to Portland.” Mason explains.

“I still don’t understand how this means they’re holding Y/N there.” Stiles states.

“In these files, they keep mentioning how they are waiting on a wizard or that the wizard isn’t ready yet. I don’t think they’re talking about an actual person. They’re talking about Wizard Island.”

“Again, not helpful.” Stiles is getting annoyed that Mason won’t just get to the point.

“Wizard Island is the biggest island within Crater Lake. It’s even nicknamed the Witches Cauldron which is also mentioned several times.” Mason explains.

“Are you sure about this? We don’t want to go somewhere and she’s not even there.” Scott states.

“At least it’s something. We can go tell the Avengers and we can jet over there and at least see if she’s there. I’ve got a gut feeling about this and it’s telling me that I’m right.” Mason tells him.

Derek angrily stands up off the couch and starts to walk towards the front door, “Grab your stuff. Let’s go get my girl back.”

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aristrocrat · 2 years

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Chapter 11

S1 Episode 10

SUMMARY: Y/N finally tells Stiles what happened and tries to get info out of the Sheriff with him.

TW: none, just fluff lol

WORD COUNT: 3752

“Danny!” You jogged up to him as he walked out of the locker room.

“Oh, hey! What’s up?” He smiled, stopping in his tracks to turn towards you.

“Have you’ve seen Stiles? I’ve been looking for him since the game started.”

“No, I haven’t,” He shook his head, looking at you with concern. “Is everything okay? He was supposed to play first line tonight.”

“God, I hope so,” You mumbled, looking down at your phone to see that you hadn’t gotten any new notifications. “I’m going to keep looking for him. Thanks for the help!”

“No problem, good luck,” He readjusted his bag before walking out of the building.

You sighed walked back to the locker room to see if Scott had come out yet only to see and hear absolutely nothing. You sighed and walked out towards the parking lot to see that, with the exception of Danny’s leaving car, it was completely vacant. You shook your head and desperately checked your phone again, hoping for something- anything but the radio silence he’s been leaving you in since he dropped you off after school.

Disappointment haunted the pit in your stomach. No luck. You knew he wouldn’t have missed the game for anything shy of an emergency, so your mind raced quicker by the minute trying to figure out what happened. You sat down on a nearby bench, deciding to text Scott to meet you at your mom’s car when you heard the familiar sound of tires skidding into the parking lot. You looked up to be greeted by a pair of circular lights in need of cleaning.

“Y/N!” Stiles squeaked, running towards you. “Something’s wrong! Where’s Scott?!”

“Locker room. What happened-“

“No time, come on!”

He sprinted past you, grabbing your wrist and heading into the building. Your eyes darted his silhouette, checking to see if there was any sign of an injury as you ran through the dark halls. No blood, no limp or cuts from what your eyes could pick up. Your legs could barely keep up as he ran up to the locker room.

“Dude! We have a huge problem!” Stiles cried frantically as you burst in the door. Scott simply sat on the bench with a concerned look on his face.

“Trust me, I know.”

“You know?” Stiles paused. “You know that Peter Hale is the Alpha?!”

“Yeah, he just fucking left.”

“The comatose uncle?! I fucking knew it!” You shouted, earning annoyed looks from the boys trying to figure out what to do. “What? I called it.”

“He wants me to help him kill everyone who was responsible for the Hale House fire,” Scott groaned, letting his head drop into his hands. “He basically said he was going to do it with or without me, but if I joined his pack, he’d keep Allison alive.”

“Oh shit. Did the Argents have something to do with it?”

“I think so. So he dug his claws into my neck and somehow gave me his memories. I saw everything. The fire, his family burning to death, his comatose memories- everything!” Scott cried, standing up in a huff. “But that’s not even the crazy part. Derek’s on his side.”

“Wait, what?” You jumped in. “What about Laura? Was Peter not the one who killed her?”

“He murdered her in cold blood, dude. And Derek knows it was him! All he had to say was that it was an accident and accidents happen,” He shook his head. “I don’t understand what the hell is even going on anymore. I feel like everyone I thought I knew is flipping script! Your dad, Derek, Allison, Peter-”

“Your dad?” Stiles asked you, furrowing his brows. “What did your dad do?”

“Nothing,” You brushed him off, making his lips part in slight shock at the dismissal. “Scott, Derek’s gotta have some motive behind it. There’s absolutely no way he’s just going along with this. He doesn’t seem like the one to side with anyone, let alone the man who killed the only real family he had left.. But let’s get out of here, we can keep talking about this in the car. Stiles, follow behind us.”

“Your parents let you drive here?!” He called as you both rushed out of the room. “CAN SOMEONE PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHAT I MISSED?!”

———

“Okay, so we can meet up in the morning to follow Jackson around. Maybe at 10:00?” Scott asked, sticking his leg out of your window in preparation to head home.

“As much as I hate to say it, I think we should be ready to go at 9:00 just to play it safe,” You crinkled your nose at the thought of waking up before noon on a Saturday. The boys looked over at you with wide eyes at your preposterous idea. “He’s the type to get up early and go for a jog or something stupid like that.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Stiles chuckled dryly, sitting up straighter in your desk chair. You pursed your lips and shrugged.

“I think she’s got a point. 9:00 it is. I’ll see you guys then,” Scott said after sighing dramatically. He squeezed the rest of his body out to your roof before effortlessly jumping down and leaving the two of you in an awkward silence.

“So,” He finally said after a moment. “Do you wanna talk about what happened after I dropped you off today?”

Your eyes remained on your hands as you sighed, not knowing exactly how to begin.

“Long story short,” You began. “I came home to like a weird mess and heard them screaming upstairs about the affair my dad’s having with Mrs. Martin. Then my mom kicked him out.”

“He was having an affair?! Your goofy, Star-Wars-loving father was having an affair with Lydia’s mom?! Holy shit, Y/N, why didn’t you call me?” His eyes widened as he got up from your chair to come sit next to you on the bed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m.. I don’t know. I think I cried it all out with Scott earlier but.. it just doesn’t feel real, you know?” You shook your head before finally looking into his warm hazel eyes. They were full of concern and sympathy, not knowing exactly how to go about comforting you. “And as for why I didn’t call you, I knew you were busy with Derek and I didn’t want you to drop everything when you were so close to figuring out who the Alpha was, you know?”

“Damn right I would’ve dropped everything!” He said, making a smile almost break through your serious face. “I would’ve come over and unleashed the wrath of Derek onto your dad, are you joking?”

“Damn, you think it’s too late to call him now?” You joked, making him shrug.

“Probably not. I can just be like Hey, I know you’re not on our side anymore but could you do me a solid real quick?”

“I feel like you should start with How do you feel about jumping a 40 year old man?”

“Say no more. I have him on speed dial,” He pretended to reach for his phone, making you giggle. He smiled down at you before his face melted into a look of sympathy. “On a real note, I really am sorry. I wish I could’ve been here for you.”

“It’s okay. You’re here now,” You leaned your head on his shoulder. “Do you mind staying the night tonight?”

“Oh, I was already planning on it,” He said nonchalantly, making you giggle again.

———

“God, how can he be such an ungrateful douche bag after we literally saved him?” You rolled your eyes, leaning back into the backseat with your arms crossed. “Tell me again why we aren’t letting Jackson fend for himself..”

“Trust me, if I could, I would,” Scott responded before turning around with a smile. “But he would throw me under the bus faster than you did in second grade.”

“I’m not gonna talk about that again with you,” You rolled your eyes, making the boys chuckle before you proceeded to talk about it again. “You knocked out my tooth by pushing me into a wall, asshole. That was different.”

“Was it though?” He smirked.

“Scott, I will not hesitate to spike your food with wolfsbane,” You leaned forward to slap the back of his head.

“Ow,” He giggled, grabbing at the back of his head.

“Can we please focus?” Stiles interjected. “What’s our next move?”

“Well I was kinda hoping to give Allison her necklace back,” Scott shrugged, earning looks of disgust from the two of you. “What?! We’re done for the day. Argent made his point, he isn’t coming back. There isn’t much we can do besides wait.”

“Dude, you just wanna see Allison,” Stiles scoffed.

“Yeah, that too,” Scott smiled. “Could you drive me out to her jogging place? After that, we can all go our separate ways. Maybe you can get some information out of your dad to see what the cops know.”

“You think we can brew wolfsbane like tea and give it to him?” Stiles asked you.

“One step ahead of you,” You leaned forward and showed them your phone screen that displayed a purple flower for sale.

“Give me that,” Scott snapped, grabbing it out of your hands. “Just take me to the forest. And stop being a dick.”

“Me?” You laughed.

“Both of you!”

———

“Hey! Give it back!” Stiles laughed as you took the apple he was about to bite into, taking the first chomp. “Why would you do that?!”

“I’m hungry,” You shrugged with a mischievous smile painted on your lips.

“I asked you if you wanted one. Go get your own!” He shouted playfully, reaching over to grab it from your hands. You jumped off of his bed before he could reach it. “Oh, it’s on!”

You squealed as he launched off the bed, running into the hallway behind you. He was close on your heels as you sprinted down the stairs. You felt as he grabbed at your shoulder but you quickly slipped out of his grip and turned the corner into the kitchen.

You turned your head to see that he was no longer behind you. Smiling, you peaked your head back into the hallway only to see that he wasn’t in there either. You felt your face fall in confusion before the feeling of his arms snaking around your waist erupted at your sides as he yanked you back into the kitchen.

“Gotcha,” He chuckled from behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head. “Can I have my apple?”

“Mm, no,” You said after a moment of thought. He watched as you raised it back up to your lips.

“No?! Did you just say no after I caught you fair and square?” He laughed, grabbing it out of your hands and releasing you. You snapped around as he took a bite and held it above his head. “I’ll give it to you if you can grab it.”

“Easy,” You smirked, poking at his side. He crumbled into a fit of giggles at your touch, dropping the apple on the floor. You both paused and looked at it.

“You owe me an apple,” His jaw dropped dramatically with a playful smile.

“Five second rule?” You suggested as he walked towards you. You stepped back, planning on taking off again when he reached forward and pulled you in by the hips. “No please! I don’t have an apple. Mercy!”

“Give me a kiss and we’ll call it even,” He smiled softly, darting his eyes between your own with the occasional glance at your lips. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as his hands caressed your cheeks. His gaze was now strictly averted on your lips, grazing his thumb across them before placing the promised exchange onto them.

Your hands habitually flew to his sides, gripping at his shirt to pull him in closer. You felt him smile into the kiss before he wrapped his left arm around the small of your waist, squeezing you against his body as a wave of desire shocked through him. He wanted more.

“Ahem,” You both heard from the dining room, making you jump away from one another to see the sheriff staring back unamused.

“Dad! When did you get home?” Stiles rubbed a hand against the base of his neck.

“Since before your little apple debacle,” He answered sarcastically, taking off his glasses and readjusting his his seat to face you. You felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

“Mr. Stilinski, I’m so sorry,” You began, stepping forward. “I didn’t mean any disrespect-“

“The apple move. Claudia told you about that one, huh?” He chuckled, making you pause.

“Yeah, actually,” You smiled shyly. She told you she did the same thing to Noah when they first began dating. It was how she got her first kiss.

“She called it, you know,” He picked up his glasses and placed them back on his face so he could get back to work. “She bet me 20 bucks that the two of you would end up dating.”

“She did?” You asked in a sweet, nostalgic tone. He looked up and nodded, shooting you a small smile.

“Rookie mistake, Dad. She was the reason I didn’t have an allowance, she drained my funds with all of her bets,” Stiles smiled at you, pulling out a chair at the dining table and signaling you to sit. He pulled out the chair between you two and peeked over at his dad’s mosaic of case papers. “So what are you workin’ on?”

“Ah, ah, ah!” His dad chuckled, pushing his head away. “You know I can’t let you see this.”

“Whaaat?” Stiles whined. “I was just trying to help.”

“You could help by pouring me an ounce of whiskey,” Noah laughed, shaking his head and looking back at the paper in his hand. “Not too much!”

Stiles smirked and jumped up to go pour him a glass. He poured about an ounce before looking up at you with a smirk, keeping the whiskey bottle ready to pour more. Your eyes widened and you shook your head, knowing exactly what he was about to do. He ignored you and continued on with his idea, pouring it to the brim before placing it in front of his father, who downed it in one swig. Your jaw dropped slightly, looking over at your boyfriend in shock.

Don’t look at me like that, he mouthed.

You’re going to hell, you mouthed back.

After a few minutes, the sheriff was drunkenly confessing everything he knew about the Derek Hale case, answering Stiles’ questions without hesitation. It didn’t take very long to figure out that all the murders were targeting arsonists.

“So maybe they all had something to do with the fire..” You finally spoke up. Stiles nodded slowly, thinking.

“..Another shot?” He said after a moment, deliberately ignoring your gaze, knowing you would only make him feel guiltier than he already did.

“No, no, no,” Noah protested weakly. “No more.”

“Dad, come on! You work really hard, all right? You deserve it!” Stiles encouraged, earning an elbow to the side. He leaned over and whispered. “Play along.”

“I’m not playing along in your-” You stopped when you saw his head tilt; a silent plea. “Yeah, Mr. Stilinski! When do you ever let lose? Drink up!”

“Oh my god… I’m gonna have such a hangover..”

“You mean you’re gonna have such a good night’s sleep!” Stiles laughed, pushing the glass towards him before leaning back into his original position. He looked over to greet your gaze of disapproval.

“You’re gonna have an eternity in the lowest circle of hell,” You smirked, making him send you a sarcastic laugh before slowly sinking into his chair with a guilty look on his face.

———

“Be right back,” You smiled, squeezing Stiles’ hand before getting up. He paused to look up at you in confusion. “Bathroom.”

You got up and walked down the familiar hallway, making a quick pit stop in the bathroom before making your way back.

You made your way down the all too familiar hallway and turned into the bathroom on the left. You took the opportunity to check your phone, seeing that Allison had tried to call you. You shot her a quick text, apologizing for missing the call and asking what it was about. You finished up your business in the bathroom before heading back.

“Or something’s scaring them out,” You heard Stiles mumble as you approached the dining room. His tone was serious and barely audible.

“You know, I miss talking to you... It's like we never have time-”

“Dad, you know, I have to make a phone call. I'm sorry, I'll be right back,” Stiles cut him off. The sound of a chair dragging against the floor was followed by his silhouette coming into view. Your heart sank a little at the way he dismissed his father.

“I do... I miss it,” Noah slurred softly from his seat. “.. and I miss your mom...”

You watched at Stiles froze as he slowly lowered his phone, not quite sure he heard him right. Your lips parted at the candid statement. You haven’t heard him say that in years.

“What’d you say?” His voice came out soft and shaky, utter shock and sadness decorating his delicate features. You stepped forward, not knowing whether to comfort him or stay quiet. Noah raised the bottle to pour himself another drink but Stiles reached out and stopped him.

“Thanks,” He closed his eyes in effort to hide his pain, leaving his son standing in front of him broken at the sight. You took another step onto a loose floorboard that made your presence known. They both snapped their heads toward you before Noah sighed. “Well, I think I’m gonna hit the sack.”

You both nodded as he stood up and slowly made his way to his bedroom. He stopped in front of you, grabbing your shoulder

“I heard about your parents,” He pursed his lips. “I’m sorry about that, kid. You let me know if you need anything.”

“I could use a whiskey shot,” You smiled softly, wanting to raise his spirit a little.

“Keep dreaming,” He chuckled, finally leaving the room.

You looked back to Stiles, seeing the heartbreaking tears that welt up in his eyes.

“Sti,” You whispered, reaching for his arm with furrowed brows. “Hey, let’s go to your room, yeah?”

“I did that,” He said softly, refusing to look at you. “He was fine. I was fine. And then I poured him those drinks and I-”

“Hey,” You spoke up, positioning yourself in front of him in effort to catch his gaze. He shook his head so you gently caressed his cheek and guided it towards you. “Look at me.. This isn’t your fault, okay? It’s not. You didn’t know he would say that. It’s inevitable to think about her and miss her sometimes. I wasn’t even a part of this family and I still cry over her sometimes. He’ll be alright, he probably won’t even remember this tomorrow anyway.”

“.. But I will,” He whispered as tears finally broke loose. You reached up with your other hand and wiped them away. His hazel eyes always looked so big when he cried, they demanded your attention. It was like you weren’t able to focus on anything else around you. Rare were the moments he cried, but when he did, the world around you melted away. Your only focus was to comfort him.

It’s been that way since you were little and he cried over everything; Scott breaking his lightsaber, a dead cat in the park, the act of pulling out a loose tooth. You always dropped everything to go hug him and tell him everything would be alright. As you grew up, he still sought your comfort in his moments of weakness. It was bond you both knew you’d never break, even if you tried.

“I know,” You said softly before pulling him into an embrace. “I’m so sorry.”

He hesitated to hug you until he felt your hands gently rub circles into his back, the subconscious act inevitably made him crumble into your embrace every time you did it. He wrapped his arms around you and burrowed his face in your shoulder. The silence in the room now replaced with the sounds of his soft sobs.

After a few moments, his sobs slowed and as did his breath. Inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo was enough to calm him in even his most broken state. The warmth of your body radiating against his was enough to slow the traffic in his mind to virtually nothing. He remained in your embrace for a few more moments, sniffling occasionally as he tried to regain his composure.

Your hand made its way to the base of his neck, holding it as you fought back tears of your own. He held you as if you would disappear into thin air. But you didn’t. You simply held him until he was ready for you to let go.

He finally pulled away enough to look you in the eye again.

“I’m sorry,” He blushed, chuckling slightly at the embarrassment. You only smiled and wiped the remainder of his tears.

“No, don’t apologize,” You chuckled softly, earning his gaze once again. “You don’t have to hide what you’re feeling from me. I’ll always be here for you.”

“I..” He hesitated, not knowing how to respond to that. He fought back the urge to say the three words that have been teasing his tongue since the moment you became his. “Thank you.. I don’t know how you do that.”

“Do what?” You furrowed your brows.

“When it feels like everything is crashing down around me, you hold me and suddenly it all stops,” He stared at you with nothing but adoration. You blushed slightly, giggling at his sweet confession. You opened your mouth to respond when a phone call from Scott erupted the silence. “I’m gonna kill him.”

You threw your head back and laughed at Scott’s timing.

“This better be good,” Stiles grumbled as he answered. He stayed quiet and listened to the other end of the call, looking into your eyes and twirling your hair. Then he stepped back. “Wait, your mom’s going on a date with Peter? Psycho murdering Alpha Peter?! Okay, we’re on the way.”

CHAPTER 12 ->

———

Sweet bbs. I love Y/N and Stiles so much dude. SORRY for the slow chapter, but not much was going on in the episode so I opted for ✨fluff✨

As always, please let me know what you thought of the chapter and comment below if you’d like to be added to the tag list. It would mean the world to me if you guys shared and reblogged this series <3

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 7

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

Derek was alive. I let out a shaky breath as I used a tree to get back onto my feet.

“Derek…” I whispered. He stood on the hill, his shoulders rising and falling as he slowed down his breathing. Even though my legs were shaking from almost being mauled to death, I started walking towards him. And the walk turned into a run as I made my way to him. I stopped just short of him. Our eyes met and all my fear was washed away by overwhelming joy.

“You’re okay.” I grinned, “You’re alive.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Derek slowly slid his arms around my waist, holding me close. He turned his head, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke.

“We need to talk.”

After taking Scott home, Derek and him talked and agreed on something. They would work together and kill the alpha to cure Scott. I sent a quick text to Stiles to tell him I was alright and Scott was calm.

Derek had offered to drive me home, the drive there was filled with his energy that I had never felt before, it was electrifying. I was just happy that he was alive. Once we were on the street the Stilinski’s lived on, I made him park a little bit back from the house in case Uncle Noah came home.

“When did you start seeing it? The visions.” He asked, putting the car in park.

“They started the night I last saw you. I am always looking through your eyes, feeling what you feel.” I leaned back against the headrest, looking at him. He seemed frustrated and upset. His lips were tight, but there was that look in his eyes that had made him look young and afraid.

“What have you seen?”

“I saw you talking to your uncle, you were agitated and felt lost. I saw you talking with this woman about your sister, you were angry and had so much guilt balled up in your chest. And I-… I felt the alpha attack you. I could not even describe the fear you felt then.” Derek’s hands were tightly gripping onto the steering wheel, it almost looked like he was blinking back tears. He felt weak, why I could feel that now I didn’t understand.

“Derek, what’s happening? I don’t understand why I’m seeing parts of your life.” I turned fully in my seat.

“It’s not uncommon among werewolves.” He said.

“But I’m not a werewolf.”

Derek shifted in his seat so he was facing me, “What it is… It’s a connection of two. Think of it like-”

“Soulmates?” I inserted the word.

He nodded, “But for werewolves it is supposed to happen after a mating ritual.”

“I think I can imagine what that is.” I blew out a breath, “So… why me? Why us? If it’s not possible then how?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because high stress situations have been putting us together.”

“Do you see visions of me?” I was really hoping he hadn’t been seeing me cry over him.

“I have.” Crap. “The night the alpha attacked me and then tonight.” He paused and sighed, “I felt this intense pull in my chest to find you. You needed me to come to you.”

“I thought I was going to die tonight. I thought that Scott was going to kill me.” I shook my head, “My luck is pretty crap.”

“I found you each time, didn’t I?” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I guess you’re right.” I smiled and looked down at my lap, “Seems pretty inconvenient for you though. Saving me all the time.”

“It’s not.” He reached over, tilting my face to look at him, “Whenever you need me, I will be there.”

“I thought you needed to focus on finding the alpha, so that you couldn’t be selfish.” My breath hitched when he moved forward, pressing his forehead to mine.

“It seems the universe had a different plan for us.” He paused, “I can’t promise you everything all at once. After we take down the alpha, after I have some time to come to peace with other things, then we could take the time to explore…whatever this is.” He leaned back in his seat.

“That is, if those idiots don’t get me arrested first.”

I chuckled a little, “They may be idiots. But they’re still just kids. No matter how many times Stiles tells me he’s a man, he is still a sucker for Spice Girls.” I unbuckled my seat belt, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek, “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

Derek grinned and nodded, “Right of course.” His smile was so… it suited him to smile. After all the grim and stern looks, I wanted to be able to make him smile everyday. I closed the door, leaning into the window.

“Smiling suits you.” I stood up and patted the top of the car. He dropped the smile, and chewed on his cheek.

“Just remember, if you need me, I’ll know and I’ll be on my way.” I nodded, turning away and walking home.

Did I ever think that I would be in a car chase? Absolutely not. But was I in a car chase with Kate Argent with Scott and Stiles while Derek was on the run from Uncle Noah? Absolutely. I was in the back of Derek’s Camaro, headset on with a police radio scanner from the Stilinksi’s basement. It was an older model and out of use but it could still pick up radio.

“They’re chasing him on foot, heading northwest.” I shouted to Scott, holding onto the radio as we raced through downtown. In pursuit was Kate Argent.

“Faster?” Scott asked, gripping the steering wheel.

“Much faster.” Stiles answered, watching out the back window. Scott seemed to go a little faster, but the other car was still catching up.

“Scott, I don’t think you’re grasping the concept of a car chase, here…” Stiles said nervously.

If I go faster, I’ll kill us!” Scott shouted, clearly panicking. Stiles leaned forward.

“Well, if you don't go faster, they're gonna kill us!” Scott pressed down on the pedal, but Kate Argent and her team seemed to divert away and left them.

“They’re gone.” A new message came over the radio: “All units, suspect is on foot heading into the Iron Works.”

“He’s in the Iron works.” I called, and suddenly my vision clouded.

Derek ran but was stopped by a flash bang, blinding him, shots rang out.

“And hurry, Chris Argent’s got him cornered.”

“How do you know that?” Stiles asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I’ll explain later.” Scott turned sharply, stopping the car. Derek was behind a forklift, shots ringing out towards them.

“Get in!” Stiles shouted. Derek hurriedly got in the car, Scott speeding off before he even finished closing the door.

“What part of “laying low” don’t you understand?!” Scott said in an exasperated voice.

“Damn it!” Derek growled, “I had him!”

“Who? The Alpha?” Stiles leaned forward, I pulled him back, pointing to his seat belt. He rolled his eyes but put it on.

Yes!” He said impatiently, “He was right in front of me, and the friggin�� police showed up.”

“Whoa! Hey, they’re just doing their jobs-” Stiles defended his dad.

“Yeah, thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the entire state!” He shouted to Scott.

Can we seriously get past that? I made a dumbass mistake. I get it.” Scott said defensively.

“All right. How did you find him?” Stiles asked Derek.

Scott scoffed, “Can you try to trust us for at least half a second?”

“Yeah, both of us!” Derek glared back at him, making Stiles shrink back into his seat, “Or, just him. I’ll be back here.” Derek glanced back at me. I nodded for him to tell.

“Look, the last time I talked to my sister, she was close to figuring something out. She found two things. The first was a guy named Harris.”

“Our chemistry teacher?” Stiles was back leaning forward.

“Why him?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know yet.”

“What’s the second?”

“Some kind of symbol.” Derek pulled a piece of paper with a drawing on it. It looked like a family crest with a wolf and sun. Scott stared at it.

“What? You know what this is?”

“I’ve seen it on a necklace. Allison’s necklace.” Scott looked back at the road.

I sat at my desk, getting some papers ready for tonight’s lacrosse game, when I heard knocking at my window. I turned quickly and sighed when it wasn’t, in fact, a murderer. Derek looked around and knocked again impatiently. I quickly opened the window and pulled him inside.

“What the hell are you doing?” I whispered, “My uncle is here, you know, the one that wants you arrested.” He grunted as he got up, closing the window and the curtains, setting a pile of books on my desk.

“This was Stiles’ idiot plan so blame him.”

“He was right, you are kind of a sour wolf.” I laughed, he was very unamused.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Stay here, I’ll go grab you water and something to eat. You’re starving.” I turned to the door but stopped, turning back to face him.

“How do I know you’re starving?” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Probably the same way I can talk to you like this.” His voice echoed in my head, I jumped and pointed at him.

“Warning! Some warning would be nice!” I gave him a scolding look and went out into the hallway, quietly shutting the door behind me.

As I was making Derek a sandwich, Stiles bolted through the door and upstairs. I sighed and finished the food, heading upstairs.

As I got to the top, Uncle Noah came out from around a corner, “Hey Stiles!” He called and then noticed me, “Hey (Y/N).” He looked down at the sandwich, “I didn’t know you liked ham and…thick cut beef jerky sandwiches.” I looked down at the sandwich.

“Uh yeah, I just figured out I liked it.” I grabbed the sandwich and took a bite. I hummed and chewed it, even though I rather spit it back out.

“I’ll have to pick some up next time I’m out. My buddy at the station makes it.” I nodded and continued to chew. That would explain why it was heavy on the pepper. That guy should really stick to his day job.

Stiles mumbled something from his room as he came out.

“What’d you say?” Uncle Noah asked.

Stiles leaned on the doorway, “What? I said “Yo, D-Dad.”

Uncle Noah sighed, “Listen, I’ve got something I’ve got to take care of, but I’m gonna be there tonight. I mean, your first game.” He smiled

Stiles nodded, “My first game… Uh, it’s great! Awesome. Uh, good!”

“I’m very happy for you. And I’m really proud of you.” He said sincerely. If I didn’t have this terrible jerky in my mouth, I would be more emotional.

“Thanks. Me too. I’m happy and proud of myself.”

“So, they’re really gonna let you play, right?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’m first line! Believe that?”

“I’m very proud.”

“Oh, me, too. Again, I’m-” Stiles came forward, forcing Uncle Noah into an incredibly awkward, “Huggie, huggie, huggie…”

“See you there.” Uncle Noah pulled away, heading downstairs.

“Take it easy.” He said as he left. I waited until I heard the front door close to spit the mush back onto my plate. The jerky looked just as intact as it had when it went in my mouth.

“Oh my god, that’s the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.” I went back downstairs and threw out that abomination and the rest of it that was in the fridge. For as long as I live, Uncle Noah will be bringing home that jerky for me to eat. But that was a sacrifice I was willing to make to make him happy. I made a different sandwich with edible toppings this time and made it upstairs to see Derek grumbling and broody as usual. I handed him the plate. He took it then sniffed the air.

“What smells like death?” He asked. I covered my mouth.

“Don’t ask, just know that it will never hurt anyone ever again.”

After many rounds of tooth brushing and mouthwash, the death smell was extinguished. When I came back in, Danny from the lacrosse team was sitting at the computer with Stiles and Derek was sitting in the corner, reading.

“You want me to do what?” Danny asked, “Hey (Y/N).” He greeted me before looking back at Stiles. I nodded and waved.

“Trace a text.”

“I came here to do lab work– that’s what lab partners do.”

“And we will!” He paused, “Once you trace the text.”

And what makes you think I know how?”

“I-I looked up your arrest report, so-”

“I-I was thirteen. They dropped the charges.” He said defensively.

“Whatever.”

“No, we’re doing lab work.”

“Oh, my…” Stiles sighed, looking at the computer. I sighed and grabbed a book from the pile that Derek had. It looked old, the pages were yellowed. I turned to a random page and browsed, listening in on Stiles and Danny.

“Who’s that again?” Danny whispered. Stiles looked back at Derek, then back to Danny.

“Um, my cousin…Miguel.” He lied. Derek glanced up at them, then back to the book. I bit my lip to keep my giggles back. Derek’s eyes shot me a warning glance.

“Is that blood on his shirt?” Danny asked. My eyes widened. I hadn’t realized it but his grey long sleeve shirt had spots of blood.

“Yeah. Yes. Well, he gets these horrible nosebleeds.” Stiles looked back at Derek, “Hey, Miguel. I thought I told you you could borrow one of my shirts.” He looked pointedly towards his dresser. Derek closed the book on his lap and set it aside. He stood up, went to Stiles’ dresser and took his shirt off, revealing the triskelion tattoo between his shoulder blades. And it seems like I wasn’t the only one appreciating that it was off either. Danny was taking quick glances towards Derek.

“So, anyway, I mean, we both know you have the skills to trace that text, so we should probably-”

“Uh, Stiles…?” Derek said, holding a button down shirt in his hands.

“Yes?” Stiles asked innocently.

“This… no fit!” He said irritably, tugging the shirt. I covered my mouth and squeezed my eyes shut. It was cruel to be in this situation and not laugh.

‘Then try something else on!” Stiles turned back to Danny, “Sorry.” Derek found a blue and orange striped collared shirt.

“Hey, that one looks pretty good, huh? What do you think, Danny?” Derek looked incredibly beyond pissed, but that anger was directed at Stiles so this just kept getting better and better. I was nearly in tears. Was Stiles using Danny’s sexuality to his advantage? Yes, and we would have a talk about that later, but right now it was too damn funny.

“Huh.” Danny avoided looking at Derek, trying not to get caught staring.

“The shirt?”

Danny looked over, “It’s… it’s not really his color…” Derek removed the shirt.

“You swing for a different team, but you still play ball, don’t you, Danny-boy?” Stiles whispered to him when they were both turned towards the computer.

Danny sighed, “You’re a horrible person.”

“I know. It keeps me awake at night. Anyway, about that text…”

“Stiles!” Derek said, frustrated, “None of these fit!”

“I’ll need the ISP, the phone number, and the exact time of the text.” Stiles gave him the information and after some typing and clicks, “There. The text came from a computer. This one.” Derek and I came up behind the two after he found a dark grey shirt that managed to fit.

“Registered to that account name?” Derek asked. Danny nodded.

“No, no, no, no. That can't be right.”

“Scott’s mom?” I asked. Right there, Melissa McCall. Danny left soon after, a pink blush to his cheeks. Stiles walked him out.

I grabbed my lacrosse bag, getting ready to leave to get to the game. Hopefully I could give Stiles a few minutes before Coach kicked him back to second line for being late. Derek stood in my path.

“Was that situation funny to you?” He glared, tilting his head to the side.

“Uh, after the fact, no.” I giggled a little, “But at the time it was really funny.” He wasn’t laughing. I cleared my throat.

“Alright, I’m sorry. It wasn’t right of me to laugh.” I patted his chest, “But he was right, blue and orange are not your colors.” He grabbed my wrist, keeping my hand on his chest.

“And what exactly are my colors?” His expression had softened. I smiled and hummed, thinking for a moment.

“Dark red, burgundy. Greys. Maybe blue, just not that shirt. Never again.” I looked down, “You know it’s not Scott’s mom, right?”

He nodded, “I know.”

“And as much of a pain as he is, Stiles is like family to me. And I have this terrible feeling in my chest that something’s going to go wrong tonight.” I bunched up his shirt in my hand, “Please keep him safe. And you should be careful too.”

“It won’t take too long. We just need to get security footage.”

“I’m serious, Derek.” I pulled my hand away, “I have a dark feeling. And I’m scared.”

“And I believe you.” He reassured me, “I’ll make sure Stiles comes back in one piece. I promise.”

I breathed in deeply, and let it out, “Okay.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss on my forehead. I really hoped that this feeling was wrong.

I stood with Scott in the corner of the locker room. Or at least I think that’s where we were. Coach made me wear a blindfold to “protect my eyes from men”.

“Did you get the picture?” Scott asked, referring to the picture he had taken of Allison’s necklace that he stole.

“Yeah, I did, and it looks just like the drawing.” Stiles said.

“Hey, is there something on the back of it? There’s gotta be something– an inscription, an opening, something…” Derek asked.

“No, no, the thing’s flat. And, no, it doesn’t open. There’s nothing in it, on it, around it, nothing. And where are you? You’re supposed to be here. You’re first line.”

“Where the hell is Bilinski?!” Coach shouted from his office.

“Man, you’re not gonna play if you’re not here to start.”

“I can only buy you so much time, Stiles.” I said into the phone.

“I know. Look, if you see my dad, can you tell him… tell him I’ll be there, I’ll just be a little bit late, okay?”

“Loud and clear.” I sighed.

“Alright, thanks.” Stiles hung up the phone.

I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head, “He’s not gonna make it. First game his dad shows up to and he’s not gonna make it.” I poked Scott in the chest, “You owe him big time for this.” I felt at the wall, making my way back in the ( I think) direction of Finstock’s office.

I sat in the office, fiddling with my thumbs when I felt it again. That painful fear in my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Stiles, get out of there right now! It’s him! He’s the Alpha! Get out!” Derek shouted into the phone. He cursed and got out of the Jeep, running inside. His heart was beating fast and a terrible realization was going through his head. His own Uncle killed his sister. It had been him all along, how could he have missed it? Derek ran inside, punching the nurse that had been taking care of his Uncle and helping him in his crimes. She fell to the floor, out cold.

“That’s not nice. She’s my nurse.” I looked at the man who I had seen from the previous vision but now he was walking and talking and Derek was scared.

“She’s a psychotic bitch helping you kill people.” I looked at Stiles, “Get out of the way.”

“Oh, damn…” Stiles squeaked. Derek launched himself at his uncle only to be grabbed and slammed into one wall and then another. Peter picked him up by the throat and slid him across the room on his back. I saw Peter’s attention go back to Stiles. Derek pushed himself up, punching Peter in the nose. It didn’t seem to phase him. Peter headbutted Derek and kicked him in the stomach. Sending him back into another wall. Pain spread through my back. But Derek still stood up, spitting blood. He threw punches at Peter but they were dodged, he grabbed Derek’s wrist and bent it back, fracturing it. He went down to his knees. Peter then grabbed him and threw him through a pane of glass.

I gasped and sat back, holding my arm tightly. It felt like it was broken but it wasn’t my arm that had been broken. It was Derek’s

Out of the field, Coach called for a huddle.

“Scott.” I tried to grab his attention, but from the looks he was giving Jackson, it meant that he probably knew something.

“Let’s go! Huddle up! Let’s go! Big night! Big night! get in here, (Y/L/N).” Coach pulled my arm into the huddle.

“Ready? Say it so they can hear it! Hands in!” We all put our hands in the middle of the circle, “What are we?”

“WE ARE LACROSSE!” They shouted.

“All right, take the field! Let’s go!” Coach sent them out. It was too late to tell Scott who the alpha was and there was no way I could slip away to help without Coach noticing. Derek was getting his ass kicked and there was nothing I could do to help him.

“You gotta get out of there. Grab Stiles and run.” I thought hard, hoping that I could send my thoughts to him. I heard nothing back so my heart sank even deeper.

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

Read part 8 here!

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teenwolffan-with-nolife · 3 years

Text

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.34

Word Count: 2,657

Characters: Derek Hale (mentioned), Isaac Lahey, Chris Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent (brief), Cora Hale (brief), Reader

Pairings: Eventual Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, bad writing

A/N: i’m mad at most men for existing

Masterlist Series Masterlist

“Why didn’t you tell us that you two broke up?” you sighed deeply, hearing Stiles’ voice on your phone.

You sat on your bed, rubbing your head. It was 8 in the morning, and you needed to be on your way to school.

“I don’t know, Stiles. Can you just drop it?” you asked.

“No. What happened?” he asked again.

“Things weren’t working, okay?” Isaac already left for somewhere, some time ago. He became distant after Boyd’s death, as did everyone else. You hadn’t seen Cora in some time either. Stiles and Scott seemed to be the only ones talking to you.

You hadn’t slept in days, as you kept thinking back to your conversation with Deucalion. Your eyes were black, it was harder to control your powers.

“But what things?” you jumped as you heard the door open, Stiles and Scott walking in.

“What the… how did you get in?!” you exclaimed, putting your phone down as you stood up.

“I made a copy,” he held up his keys as you grabbed them from him, pulling your key off.

“This is an invasion of privacy. What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Trying to talk to you! All you’re doing is avoiding my question!” Stiles exclaimed.

“Because it’s none of your business, Stiles!” you yelled, as both boys fell silent.

“What Stiles means to say, is that we’re sorry, and if you ever want to talk, we’re here,” Scott said in a calm voice, standing between you and Stiles.

“Get out,” you said, crossing your arms.

“Wait, we got you coffee. Well, we made it,” Stiles handed you a cup, as you raised an eyebrow.

“You made me a coffee? Why?” you immediately got suspicious.

“Because we’re good friends, a-and we give friends coffee,” Stiles answered nervously.

You raised an eyebrow, taking a sip while the two of them watched you carefully. You immediately gagged, running to your bathroom as you spit it out in the sink. There was black coffee, with small bits of mistletoe inside it.

“Did you put mistletoe in this?” you coughed, rinsing your mouth before leaving your bathroom.

“Oh… how did that get in there,” Stiles said softly, unenergetic.

You rolled your eyes, picking up your phone before throwing Stiles’ keys back to him.

“Next time you try to poison me don’t make it so obvious,” you hissed, leaving Stiles and Scott in your apartment, slamming the door behind you.

“So, she’s not the darach. I’ll text Allison, Scott said, pulling out his phone, while Stiles continued to look at his keys, slightly in shock.

“Stiles? What is it?” Scott turned to Stiles, who held up his keys, all of them twisted and bent.

“She broke my keys,” Stiles said, baffled.

Scott looked at the keys, in shock.

“Uh, sorry about your keys, man,” Scott said.

“No, that’s not the problem... I mean I have an extra pair of all the important ones… Something’s wrong, she might not be the darach, but something’s definitely wrong,” Stiles said.

“Or maybe you just pissed her off,” Scott shrugged.

“Look at the freaking keys, Scott. A pissed off human doesn’t have the strength to disfigure keys like this, and I didn’t hear (Y/N) say or do any spell,” Stiles pointed out.

“I-I don’t know. Let’s just go,” Scott suggested.

Stiles nodded, opening the door as the two of them left.

---

“There are five different groups. Virgins, Healers, Warriors, and now Guardians and Philosophers. It can be represented by this Celtic symbol. It’s a five-fold knot,” Chris explained, picking up the map from his table, to show the symbol below it.

“How do you… how long have you spent researching all this?” you asked, leaning against the table.

“My dad knew most of it, so not as long as you think,” you tensed up, giving Chris a look.

“You mean Gerard’s alive?” you asked, surprised.

“Well, what did you think happened to him? I can’t seem to be able to put him 6 feet under, no matter how much I want to,” Chris replied.

“Give me one hour, I’ll do it myself,” you clenched your jaw.

Chris gave you a look, putting the map of Beacon Hills back onto his table.

“As I was saying, someone else was taken. Her name was Tara, she was a police officer, but before that, she was a teacher. The next group he’s going after is philosophers,” Chris said.

“Why are you so sure it’s a he? What if it’s a woman?” you asked.

Chris laughed softly, looking down.

“Is something funny?” you raised an eyebrow.

“No… with questions like that, you remind me of your mother,” you exhaled sharply, running your fingers through your hair.

“My question still stands. Each murder is planned out exactly. There’s no room for error. It’s not the alpha pack, we know that. They have claws, and they would definitely be messier and want to have more fun. The problem with men is that they’re arrogant, and they get cocky. They would torture their victims first. There’s no evidence of torture on any of the bodies,” you explained.

“But…” Chris started.

“Statistically, it makes more sense if the killer is female,” you said.

Chris stayed quiet for a moment before replying.

“What field of work are you going into?” Chris asked.

“I don’t know. Honestly, I might drop out anyway. How is that relevant?” you raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not, I just think you’d do well working for aw enforcement,” he shrugged.

“That’s not… let’s get back to the murders,” you said.

“Right, okay. Well, if she’s sticking to her original schedule, that means that Tara is already dead, and she’s going after the next victim,” Chris said.

“So what do we do now?” you asked.

“We can’t do anything. Just wait, in a few hours or so, another victim will be taken. We don’t know how she’s picking her victims or from where. But, they each have a few hours before they die. That’s when we’ll look, we’ll find this next victim, and find the darach,” Chris explained.

“Darach? What’s that?” you asked.

“That’s the person who’s making the sacrifices,” Chris said.

“They’re druids, or were druids at least. You kill them with silver, mistletoe is like their mountain ash,” Chris said.

Your mind drifted back to Stiles and Scott this morning as you sighed.

“How sure are you that Allison and the rest of them don’t know anything about this?”

----

“Everything seems to happen at abandoned warehouses and buildings,” you sighed, sitting next to Chris in the car.

“Well, they’re secluded areas, it’s easy to not get caught. The next sacrifice should be here,” Chris opened up the map, showing you.

“So, what are we gonna do? What’s the plan?” you asked.

“Well, I have some guns in the back. Silver bullets filled with mistletoe,” he explained.

“Okay, how do we know when the Darach’s coming back to sacrifice him?” you asked.

“We don’t, that’s why we have to wait it out,” he grabbed two guys from the backseat, handing one to you.

“Don’t miss,” he said.

“I never miss,” you scoffed, getting out of the car.

—-

You poked your head up, staying quiet as you gripped your gun tightly, hearing voices.

You stayed hidden, behind a pillar, Argent on the other side of you.

You motioned to him, as he shrugged. The voices grew familiar, as you raised an eyebrow. It was Isaac and Allison.

What the hell are they doing here? you asked yourself.

You felt a shiver down your spine, hearing a low moan. You turned to Chris, knowing he heard it too.

“Allison, wait!” you heard Isaac scream.

“Get down!” Chris yelled as the two of you turned around, aiming behind the teacher as you shot.

You saw the Darach standing behind him, her face was slashed up, wearing a black cloak.

She ignored the two of you, as she tied a garrote around his neck, strangling him.

You ran to her, keeping your gun aimed at her while you continued shooting. You felt a weird sense of familiarity wash over you, as she looked into your eyes. Something about her was familiar.

You aimed for her leg, shooting it as she screeched in pain, retreating back.

“Occidere,” your eyes turned black, as you looked at the Darach. You heard her whisper something. There it was again, that familiar feeling.

You felt something painful hit your stomach, as you dropped your gun. You dropped to your knees, gasping for air as you put your hand on your chest, seeing blood seeping through your clothes As you looked up, she disappeared.

“(Y/N)?” Chris ran to your side, throwing his gun down.

“She reflected the spell… how did she do that?” you wheezed as more and more blood dripped from your wound.

“What the hell just happened?” Allison and Isaac ran to the two of you.

“We need to get you to a hospital… or something,” Chris said, wrapping his arm around your back.

“No, I-I’m fine. J-Just give me a minute,” you exhaled sharply.

“(Y/N), you’re bleeding a lot. Y-You can’t heal yourself,” Isaac said frantically, holding your hand.

“I said I’m fine. G-Give me your scarf,” you turned to him.

He quickly took it off, handing it to you. You pressed it against your wound, wincing.

“H-He’s dead. That means there’s only one more sacrifice,” you said.

You stood up shakily, using Isaac for support.

“I’ll take you home,” Isaac said.

“I just need some bandages, it’s not that bad… doesn’t the school have some performance tonight?” you asked, taking deep breaths.

“Yeah, they do. (Y/N), you’re really hurt,” Allison began.

“Okay, so we just need to get to the school, and keep our eyes on all the teachers,” you explained.

“Isaac, get her help. (Y/N), you’re going to bleed out,” Chris said to you.

“I said I’m fine. M-Me and Isaac will meet you at the school,” you leaned onto Isaac, as he gave you a soft look, walking with you.

---

“Stop here,” you said, feeling yourself get slightly dizzier.

“No, we’re going to the hospital,” Isaac shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road.

“No, we’re not. We need to get to the school. Pull over. It’s a drugstore,” you pointed out.

You sat slumped in the seat, barely sitting up, pressing Isaac’s scarf against your wound.

“(Y/N), no. You’ll bleed out! You need help!” Isaac yelled slightly.

“Isaac, pull the fucking car over!” you yelled, as he slammed the breaks, turning to you as his eyes were bloodshot.

“No! I-If you bleed out, if you die,” he started.

“I won’t, Isaac. Please, pull over,” you said, voice lowering.

“What if you die? Please, let me take you to the hospital,” he said softly, eyes watering.

“I’ll be dead by the time we get there. You need to go into that drugstore, get a gauze pad, get some bandages, the wrap-around ones, get tape, get alcohol wipes,” you said.

“A-Alcohol wipes?” he questioned.

“Just do it, and do it now,” you winced slightly.

“O-Okay,” he nodded softly, quickly running into the store.

---

“You’re fucking insane,” Isaac whisper-yelled as the two of you walked into the school.

“It works, shut up,” you replied.

“You still have blood all over your clothes. And your hands,” Isaac pointed out.

“Give me your jacket,” you said.

He took off his jacket, handing it to you as you put it on, zipping it up.

“You’re too tall for your own good,” you said.

“Don’t even joke around right now, I’m pissed at you,” he replied.

You rolled your eyes, walking into the gym, immediately met with Chris’, Allison’s, and Scott’s glances.

“Just look around for anything suspicious,” you whispered to Isaac as he nodded.

You looked down at your phone, receiving a text from Scott.

“Text me if anything happens. Scott thinks Lydia’s in trouble,” you whispered to Isaac, leaving the gym, Scott behind you.

---

“Do you see anything?” Stiles said anxiously, biting his nails.

Scott looked around the outside of the school, using his werewolf eyes to try and find Lydia.

“I-I don’t know,” he said.

“You think she found a body?” you turned to Stiles.

“I-I don’t know, but she can’t just disappear like that,” he replied.

You heard someone screaming, as your eyes widened, looking back

“T-That’s her. That’s Lydia!” Stiles yelled.

The three of you ran back into the school, tracing Lydia’s voice to Jennifer’s classroom. You tensed up, clenching your jaw as the door slammed close in front of the three of you. She pushed the desk toward the door, blocking it, as you saw the same garrote she used to strangle the other teacher around Lydia’s neck.

Scott’s eyes glew yellow as he pushed the door trying to open it. You tried to keep your focus, knowing your stitches had opened back up slightly, feeling your head aching.

“M-My dad…” Stiles said.

You looked up, looking inside the classroom, seeing Noah bent down on the floor, a knife stuck in his arm.

“Platentibus,” your eyes were black as you recited a spell, pushing open the door. You ran inside the classroom, Stiles, and Scott behind you. You looked to the side, seeing the broken window, Noah and Jennifer were both gone. Lydia cried softly, her arms and legs strapped against the chair.

“You couldn’t have done that 10 seconds earlier?!” Stiles yelled as he turned to you.

Scott ran to Lydia untying her as she leaned against him.

“I’m sorry, I..” you started.

“She took my dad! S-She’s gonna hurt him!” he continued to yell at you.

“We’ll find a way to save him,” you tried to speak.

“We’ve been trying to save people, (Y/N)! Everyone’s dead! Everyone died! My dad’s gonna die too, and it’s gonna be your fault!” he yelled.

You could feel your vision blur slightly, as you stumbled back a few steps, slightly hearing Stiles and Scott yelling at each other. You immediately knew that Derek needed to know, as you turned to the two of them.

“Where’s Cora. She can tell Derek, she’ll warn him,” you said.

Scott paused, looking at you.

“Cora’s… Cora’s in the hospital,” he started.

You felt your heart ache as your eyes immediately watered.

“W-What do you… What happened?” you asked.

“She went after Aiden for killing Boyd, and he hurt her,” Scott explained softly.

“New plan then. You two go tell Derek, you have to get to him before Jennifer does, okay?” you asked.

“Wait, what about you? You’re not going to come with us?” Stiles turned to you.

“No, I-I’m gonna take Lydia home and then go to Cora,” you shivered slightly.

Scott frowned, sniffing as his face went pale.

“You’re bleeding,” he said softly.

“No, it’s fine, I’m okay,” you shook your head.

“What do you mean you’re bleeding? What happened?” Stiles asked anxiously.

“I said I’m fine. We don’t have time for this! We have to go now,” you held Lydia’s arm, walking her to your car before driving off.

---

You tapped your foot anxiously, sitting on a chair next to Cora’s bed while you held her hand. As you walked into the hospital, Melissa immediately noticed your bleeding, helping you. You sniffled softly, eyes watering as you closed your eyes softly.

“You look worse than me,” she croaked softly, as you immediately looked up at her.

“H-How are you feeling?” you asked softly.

“It hurts,” you could see her visibly sweating.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you heard her voice crack.

“Why did you go after him?” you whispered.

“He killed my friend. I wasn’t gonna leave him,” she replied.

“It was stupid,” you sniffled, running your fingers through your hair.

“Y-You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna figure this out,” you bit your lip.

She hummed softly, closing her eyes once again. You continued holding her hand, stroking it softly.

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free-pool-trash · 4 years

Text

folklore - isaac lahey {2/?}

part two because i just couldn’t wait lmao! this chapter focuses a lot on the reader but there is some cute isaac moments in there too because i wanted there to be more to the story than just reader and isaac’s relationship <33 this part is kinda just setting stuff up tho so dw!

platonic derek x reader in this part :) and isaac ofc

please let me know what u think :)

word count: 4.4k

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, i think that’s it???? let me know if i misses anything <3

my taglist is still pretty wishy washy for this so i’m gonna tag the people who enjoyed part one, thanks for all the lovely feedback <3

Taglist: @makeusfreefromthisfandom, @cece-lives-here, @chocolate-raspberries, @belsandthings let me know if you’d like to be added or removed <3

PART 1

PART 3

Endless thoughts plagued your mind as you wandered through the crowded halls. It barely registered with you that Derek could be home and not bother to check in, although maybe it was for the best, you were pretty sure that he was still a wanted man- for a crime you were also sure he didn't commit. You knew Derek, despite the fact that you weren't related by blood you saw each other as family, you knew how he treated his family, it was what he treasured above all else and there was absolutely no way in hell that he had burned his whole family tree to ash.

He and his uncle Peter were the only Hale's left as far as you knew, however saying that Peter was "alive" seemed like a bit of a reach. The man who used to tell you stories and sneak you candy whenever he saw you was completely immobilized now, scarred to the point of being almost unrecognizable, he couldn't talk, he could barely move, he was even being fed through a tube.

Peter was a particularly close friend of your father's, he'd always made you refer to him as 'uncle Peter' and the man did the title justice treating you like one of his own. And while you called him Uncle Peter, he- and the rest of the Hale's- always called you something different; "The littlest of the pack" though you never understood why the family had such an obsession with being known as a pack, you were more than delighted to know that they considered you part of it.

When you were old enough you started volunteering at the hospital which held Peter and after six months of hard work, sweeping hallways and helping the overworked nurses they finally bumped you up to keeping patients company. Since you were still in school you were mostly at the hospital at night and on Sunday mornings, the same time as your favourite nurse, Melissa, who always assigned you to Peter when she was manning the same ward as you. To be honest it was rough seeing him in such a state, it was as though everyone you loved seemed to struggle- the thought alone always made you choke up, made you wish you had some kind of power to take it all away, to make everything better. But you didn't, so you simply read to him, told him about what was happening in the news, stories about what was happening at school as Peter was always one for a good scoop of gossip, you even confided in him about the sharp sting you felt in your chest whenever someone you cared about was in pain, himself included. The logical thing would've been to simply stop visiting him but if you did then he'd barely have any human interaction for the rest of his life and ignoring the fact that he couldn't show it, you knew deep down that he could hear you, felt that he appreciated your visits.

Without even realizing where your feet had been carrying you, too lost in thought to notice, you found yourself nearing Isaac's locker, the boy himself hunched by it, his face hidden by the blue metal door. It was easy to forget over the weekend and after hanging out alone how shy Isaac was, he was a completely different person around you, he was loud, granted he still wasn't as loud as you but he certainly knew how to find his voice, he stood straighter as opposed to how the tall boy stood in the school hallways. To you he stood out, in a perfectly beautiful way, you often chastised him for not giving himself enough credit, always asking if he'd ever even looked in a mirror. Even with your endless compliments that made him blush every time without fail, Isaac still chose to blend in, but you didn't blame him- you blamed his asshole of a father for making him believe he was anything less than wonderful.

It was no secret that Isaac was taller than the average teen in Beacon Hills standing at six foot one, which meant he gave incredible hugs but it also meant he tried his very best to fold into himself in larger crowds and he regularly walked with his head down as to not draw attention to himself, even standing at his locker he bowed his head.

Shaking off your thoughts you walked up to your best friends side, tugging his sleeve softly to alert him of your presence before wrapping your arms around him, enveloping him in a side hug and allowing your head to rest against his arm while he wriggled it out of your grasp to wrap around your waist more comfortably, not paying his burning cheeks and racing heart any mind as he shifted his gaze from organizing his books to the girl clinging to him with a pout on her face, "What's up, buttercup?"

Nuzzling your head further into his side you let out a dramatic sigh, "I heard from Scott that Derek is back in Beacon." Isaac felt his eyebrow raising at the mention of both names, Scott's because you seemed to be hearing a lot of things from him in the last couple of days and at Derek's because he was pretty sure you hadn't seen him in years.

"How would McCall know if Derek's in town? Isn't he pretty much your cousin?" Isaac asked, thumb moving soothingly against your hip as you melted into him, shoulders slumping sadly and your pout only becoming more prominent. His voice sounded slightly aggravated at the mention of Scott but you thought nothing of it, thankfully. Isaac didn't want this to turn into a conversation about his petty jealousy.

"Forget cousin he was more like my big brother. That's what's got me so twisted! Why would he come home and not even bother to check in?" You murmured grumpily against the fabric of the flannel Isaac was sporting instead of his usual cardigan, which reminded you that he couldn't have worn his usual cardigan because you'd forgotten to give it back to him the night before and sported it yourself. The comfy grey material hugging your shoulders as you hugged the boy that the item of clothing actually belonged to.

"When did McCall say he saw him?" Isaac inquired, sorting his books with one hand.

"Yesterday."

"Alright well that wasn't too long ago maybe he's planning on checking in today?" He suggested, finishing up at his locker and throwing his bag over his shoulder, dropping his hand from your hip and sliding it into yours, interlocking your fingers and giving you a comforting squeeze before he began leading you towards the school's double doors, the last class of the day having already ended.

Letting out another sigh you only nodded, swinging your interlocked hands between you as you walked towards the exit.

"I promised my dad I'd finish a plot at the cemetery so he'd let me come over tonight so I'm gonna be a little bit late." Isaac broke the silence, looking at you with an expression that was mixed with disappointment and exhaustion, "That's okay." You offered, squeezing his hand as he'd done yours earlier.

"Do you want a ride home?" You asked him, nodding your head toward your beat up, second hand car that the pair of you had already made several memories in since you got it almost a year ago for your sixteenth birthday.

The brown haired boy only shook his head, giving you a soft smile and nodding towards the bike racks, "Nah, I brought my bike today."

Nodding in understanding, you leaned up and pecked his cheek while you let go of his hand, "Alright. Since you're gonna be late I'll pick up the movie for tonight myself. You just meet me at my place whenever you're ready, Kay?"

"Yes, ma'am." Letting out a soft laugh he watched you walk to your car, already missing your warmth beside him.

The first thing you noticed upon pulling into your driveway was the slick black car that was parked beside your mother's blue one, in your usual spot. The car was new and you didn't recognize it, you quirked an eyebrow, putting your car in park behind your mother's, grabbed your school bag from the passenger seat and got out with a slam of the door.

As you entered the house you were met with the sound of voices floating from the kitchen, picking up on the hushed conversation as you made your way towards the three voices, "You need to tell her." One said, a man. "It's too soon." Another sounded, you recognized the voice to belong to your father. "No, he's right, if what he says is true she's going to get caught up in it either way. Especially now the Argent's are in town." That was your mother. Your eyebrows furrowed, you could only assume that the 'she' they were talking about was you but what you didn't understand was what exactly they were debating telling you and why it had anything to do with the Argent's, were they talking about the Allison girl who had just joined your class?

You pushed open the kitchen door, eyebrows knitted tightly together, your brain taking a second to catch up with who your eyes were seeing, "Derek."

The name left your lips in barely a whisper when your eyes landed on the dark haired man leaning against your kitchen counter with a small smile playing on his lips as he greeted you, "Hey, kid."

Without wasting anymore time you launched yourself forward, arms wrapping around Derek's middle as he let out a sigh, his own arms moving around you slowly to reciprocate your action with a tight squeeze.

"I missed you!" You exclaimed punching the older man in the shoulder once you detached from the hug, expression turning accusing after a moment prompting Derek to purse his lips and brace himself, he knew that look, he hadn't seen it in a while but he knew it. That was your "I've got a bone to pick with you" look, Derek had to fight off the smile that threatened to grow on his lips when he realized that this particular look hadn't changed since you were five years old.

"Do you want to tell me why Scott McCall got to see you before I did?" The man under fire let out a defeated sigh, "If it makes you feel any better I would've rathered it be you that I bumped into." He responded halfheartedly, letting out a huff you turned towards your parents who were sat at the dining table.

"What were you guys talking about before I came in?" You questioned, feeling nervous as the three adults suddenly went rigid, glancing between each other before Derek nodded his head in your father's direction, silently encouraging him to tell you what they'd been discussing earlier.

Letting out a heavy exhale through his nose your father motioned for you to sit down in the chairs across from him, Derek moving to sit beside your father in front of you as you did. "This is going to be hard to believe but I need you to keep an open mind while we explain, alright?" You only managed a nod of your head, nerves ever-growing as you waited for someone to elaborate on whatever they were about to tell you.

"You've heard of werewolves haven't you?"

"Sure." You responded confused, the question seemed out of place in what you assumed was to be a serious conversation.

"Well they're real." Your father responded. You couldn't stop the snort that left your mouth, breaking out into a fit of giggles before you noticed the three adults before you looking at you with absolutely no trace of amusement. "Wait you're serious?!" Your eyes almost bugged out of your head as Derek's eyes flashed blue and he bared his teeth in response to your exclamation.

"...So the howling Scott said he heard in the woods?" You trailed off, eyes wide as Derek nodded his head, "it was a werewolf."

"You?"

"No. An alpha."

Eyes never leaving Derek, you posed another question, "Is this why you're family called themselves a pack?"

The man nodded, not being able to get a word in edgewise while you continued to fire out question after question, "You guys always said I was the littlest of the pack does that mean-" Your mother cut you off with a light chuckle, "No babe, you're not a werewolf." A sigh of relief left you when you slumped back against the kitchen chair, a small twinge of disappointment flooding through you, that would've been cool.

"You may not be a wolf genetically but you're still a member of our pack." Derek assured you, sensing your disappointment. "Are they in the pack too?" You inquired, glancing quickly at your parents before returning your gaze to Derek.

"No. Just you." You couldn't lie and say the statement didn't make you feel special but still, it confused you, "Why not?"

It was your mother's turn to speak now, giving the werewolf a break from your constant curiosity.

"Back before the fire your dad and I had a certain role to play in Beacon Hills," she started, reaching for your hand before she continued, "from the minute you were born you bonded with almost everyone in the Hale house, we didn't understand it completely but we assumed it was because of how close me and your dad were to them. I guess they kind of saw you as their newest cub after Cora." Derek chuckled, chiming in with a quiet, "More like runt of the little." Giving him a glare you kicked his shin under the table while he laughed and you nodded for your mother to keep going.

"Anyway, as you already know me and your dad met in college- studying Mythology. We uncovered supernatural occurrence after supernatural occurrence and those supernatural occurrences eventually led us here, to the Hale's." She told you, looking to your father for him to continue, he cleared his throat before speaking, "We got caught up in it, built a huge repertoire of supernatural entities, including werewolves, I met Peter and we made a truce, ended up becoming best friends in the process."

Nodding your head slowly you spoke up again, "So you guys were like… their supernatural encyclopedia?"

"Pretty much." Derek answered.

"Okayyyy… but that still doesn't answer my question, why am I in the pack and not you guys?" You posed the question to your father who looked at your mother nervously.

"When you were four things got messy, really messy," Derek scoffed, rolling his eyes muttering "understatement of the century" under his breath as your father went on, "Your mother got captured by hunters, Chris Argent and his little gang of merry men." He tensed his jaw, saying the name through clenched teeth before composing himself, "So your uncle Peter made the executive decision to initiate you into the pack to make absolutely sure that nobody would get their hands on you."

"Why?" The three of them erupted into laughs at the look on your face, Derek opting to answer the question, "I don't know how you did it but you had him completely wrapped around your finger. Peter is the most selfish person I've ever met but he would've sooner died himself than let anyone touch a hair on your head. As part of a pack members protect each other at all costs. With you officially a member it meant that we were bonded to you, you were one of us." The mention of Peter made you smile, not that you'd admit it to Derek but you felt the newly exposed pack bond strongest with Peter, the dots only connecting in your head now years later. Derek picking up on your train of thought spoke up, "That's why you can't bring yourself to stop visiting him."

Your mother's voice cut in again, "Those four crescent scars on the back of your neck are from Peter, it's how he marked you as a member without actually turning you." She explained, your hand absentmindedly rubbed the nape of your neck, fingers tracing deftly over the scars that you often forgot about.

"I know it's a lot to digest but there's one more thing." Derek sighed, a slight feeling of guilt growing within him for having to dump this on you all at once. When you didn't say anything, only looked at him he continued, "The hunters who kidnapped your mother, well they're back."

Anxiety bubbled up in your stomach as you whipped your head to your mom, "Are they gonna try take her again?" Your voice was bordering on sounding manic, Derek's voice quelling your worried before you had a panic attack.

"No. I don't think so at least. It's me and the alpha they're after, and- I trust you not to tell anyone this- your friend Scott too." Your eyes widened yet again, Scott was a werewolf? That must have been why he was seeking Derek out earlier today, "That's why he was looking for you isn't it?" You voiced your thoughts, Derek rose an eyebrow in response, "Looking for me?" You nodded enthusiastically, "Yeah, today in school, he and Stilinski started asking me a bunch of questions about why you were here- I told them I'd help them find you." You clarified, trying not to laugh at the exhausted look that came over Derek's face when the name Stilinski fell from your lips.

"Tell him to meet me in the woods later. I need him to help find the alpha." Derek instructed, watching contently as you pulled your phone out of your pocket and began texting Scott, thankful you'd gotten his number.

You: I'm with Derek

You: He wanted me to tell you to meet him in the woods later

Scott: When is later?

"When is later?" You voiced, not looking up from your phone, "After dark." Derek answered and you laughed, "Alright, Bruce Wayne."

You: He says "after dark"

Scott: :/ cryptic much

You: Best I could do wolfie

Scott: He told you??????

You: Yep, I'll fill you in tomorrow there's a lot to unpack here…

Scott: Please don't tell anybody

You: Your secret is safe with me don't worry

With that you set your phone down in front of you, before something crossed your mind, "Wait you said Argent earlier right?" Derek nodded, your mother and father having moved from the table, preparing food in the kitchen.

"Allison Argent just started at my school, I'm pretty sure Scott has a crush on her actually." You informed, shrugging your shoulders lightly, picking up your phone when it buzzed and missing the way Derek rolls his eyes.

Isaac: I'll be over at 7 <3

You: Great what movie do you want me to get?

Isaac: Ladies choice ;)

You: Hope you like Legally Blonde xoxoxo

Isaac: Seriously again?

You: You said my choice no take backs, love you <3333333

The time was 5:45pm and the sky had turned from blue to black, you assumed Derek would be heading off to stress Scott out soon enough so you stood from the table and grabbed your jacket, "I'm gonna go rent a DVD for me and Isaac, you guys need anything?" You directed towards your parents who were messing around in the kitchen like teenagers causing you to roll your eyes but smile.

"Huh? No we're okay. When is lover boy coming?" Your father asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you, laughing at how you groaned, "Stop calling my best friend 'loverboy' one of these days you're gonna slip up and call him that to his face and he'll literally die of embarrassment on the spot!" You yelled, cheeks burning and expecting your mother to come to your defense only to have her laugh along with your father, "Yeah, don't talk about your future son in law like that."

"God, you two are the worst. Derek tell them to stop harassing my friendships." The dark haired man rose an eyebrow from his seat, a strict look on his face, "She's too young for a boyfriend."

"Thanks, Derek. That was absolutely not helpful at all, but thank you." You muttered, grabbing your car keys and heading out the door.

You loved your parents, adored them, they raised you incredibly- that didn't mean they didn't annoy the hell out of you sometimes, though. They had about fifty names that they liked to call Isaac instead of his actual name, the most popular being "loverboy", "heart eyes", or your mother's personal favorite "future son in law." You supposed it was good that they liked him enough to consider him a future son in law, however, it was pretty insensitive when they could clearly see that you were painfully in love with him and fighting with inner turmoil because of it.

After a five minute drive you pulled up to the video store, stepping out and noticing Lydia Martin in the car next to you, you made brief eye contact with the strawberry blonde and the pair of you exchanged friendly smiles before you entered the store. Lydia was nice but you noticed she wore a facade around school, more specifically around Jackson. You remembered quite vividly how she shot Isaac down rather brutally back in freshman year. He'd only asked her out to prove a point to you, you couldn't remember what now but you'd gotten in some form of argument and the resolution you'd come to was that he prove himself and ask someone out, that someone happened to be Lydia. He didn't really like her but the whole debacle did significantly bruise his ego.

Of course, wherever Lydia Martin is Jackson Whittemore was never far away. You almost laughed when the first thing you heard after walking into the store was the jock shouting about not being able to find "The Notebook".

"It's over there." You chimed in, alerting him of your presence and pointing straight ahead of him towards the movie he was searching for.

Nodding thankfully the blonde made his way toward the far shelf while you walked to the other side of the store.

Despite being across the room, Jackson's gasp sounded clearly making you nearly jump out of your skin. Placing a hand on your rapidly beating heart you just shook your head and let out a long breath. You were probably just hearing things, your mind concocting noises to psych you out after learning the new information about the supernatural, Jackson's gasp had absolutely nothing to do with the snarls you thought you were hearing from behind you.

You had yourself convinced you were just hearing things. That was until the snarls became mingled with hot, slobbery breaths that hit the nape of your neck, shocking you into spinning yourself around. You couldn't help the yelp of fear that left your lips when your eyes met beaming red orbs… the eyes- they weren't human.

What you were looking at you could only describe as a beast. A wolf. The ability you usually possessed to control your breathing left you as you heaved, continuing to stumble back as the creature took steps forward until your back hit a row of shelves painfully. DVDs crashing to the floor in your wake.

The creature was face to face with you now, snout coming in contact with your nose as it's demonic eyes bored into your soul. It snarled as you felt your heart rate increase, it was going so fast you were half scared it would detach from it's blood vessels. Everything about the creature scared you, from its eyes, to it's snarl, to its fangs baring in your face, but what frightened you the most was that you felt like you knew it. There was a familiarity with it and you could not for the life of you explain it but you could feel it.

The scream that left you when the beast finally lunged for you with snapping jaws shook the store as the wolf sunk its teeth into the soft tissue of where your shoulder connects to your neck. The pain you felt was as blinding as the eyes that stared at you, the beast raised it's hair covered paw in the air, fully intent of swiping the last remnants of life from your now limp form before it suddenly stopped, looking at you with so much uncertainty. Not getting a chance to analyze the new look on the things hairy face the creature resumed its position on all fours then crashed out of the store window.

"(L/n)?!" Jackson whisper shouted, from around the corner, only seeing your legs peeking out from behind a row of shelves as he made his way over to you, his movements jittery. You tried to call out but your voice failed you, you kicked your legs out weakly to let him know where you were, not knowing he was already rushing towards you.

"Christ… ok just stay awake I'm calling the police right now." The blond, who you'd never known to care for anything other than himself, spoke frantically- shaking as he pulled out his phone.

Your hearing faded in and out as Jackson shouted at law enforcement over the phone. Tilting your head to the side, very painfully, you began to panic once you noticed the gaping bite that had been taken out of your neck, you whimpered pathetically at the sight of your entire shoulder, neck and hair drenched in blood, your blood. Your panic seemed to rub off on Jackson as he noticed your breath becoming heavier and heavier by the second, tears falling down your face as you stared at your injury in fear.

It was just then that sirens wailed from outside, this eased Jackson's nerves, the boy, you had to hand it to him, didn't leave your side until you were safely in an ambulance- your nerves however were still fried, panic growing by the second as strangers fretted around you, yelling orders at each other and pushing painfully against your wounds. Calm didn't settle over you until one of the medics injected you with a needle, you didn't have a clue what was in it and you didn't have time to theorize as your world turned black.

#isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey imagine #teen wolf x reader #isaac lahey

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msmischief101 · 3 years

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Imagine claiming that Derek Hale, a canonical rape victim and abuse survivor, is a rapist and a “sexual assault perpetrator” just to make Scott McCall look better https://princeescaluswords.tumblr.com/post/636322836915650560/grooming-and-seduction#notes

The Scott McCall delusional squad bunch also love to call Scott violating, dehumanizing, and humiliating Derek for his own benefit in Master Plan “a neck grab” for some reason

This bit in particular though is utter bullshit: “not only was Scott being directly threatened by the murder of a loved one when he did his foul deed, but every single innocent person survived the scene because of what he did. Whereas, and this has to be remember Derek got Erica killed”

Talk about ‘never actually watched the show’. As far as canon goes, Scott plotted/conspired with Gerard behind everyone’s back; told Gerard that Jackson was the Kanima and that Matt was the one who’s controlling him; gave Gerard all the information he wanted on Derek and his Pack in exchange of Allison; sold Derek, Boyd, Erica and Isaac out to the hunters; used Derek as his own personal murder weapon; and tried but failed to assassinate Gerard. Scott’s dumb plan achieved nothing except prompting a very alive Gerard to order the Kanima to slaughter everyone in the warehouses – including Scott.

——-

mischief: PEW really decided to write “that it was just sexual assault”. “Just”… “just“? That’s the word he’s going with? Don’t get me wrong, I understand what he’s trying to say, but reading “Now quibblers could say that this was just sexual assault” doesn’t sit right with me. Call me overly sensitive, but that reeeally doesn’t sit right with me.

That being said, I have the worst case of déjà vu. Didn’t we talk about this already a few months ago? Pretty sure at this point Pew is just regurgitating the same shit all over again because he doesn’t have any other arguments left. And before anybody comes for me: no, I didn’t like the way Derek approached Erica. Still, it’s not as bad as what Scott did to Derek at the end of s2. Scott used Derek’s body when he was paralysed and couldn’t defend himself. He used Derek’s body when Derek asked him not to do so. He used Derek’s body when Derek (more or less) trusted Scott and thought they were working together. I don’t know what that’s sounding like to people, but it doesn’t sound like something a hero would do. Especially because that plan was something Scott “we should work together with the Argents” McCall could’ve spoken to Derek about. But I guess the hunters, who killed and tortured a bunch of werewolves, are the better option than Derek who tries to keep everyone (but the people who are trying to kill werewolves) alive.

Makes sense.

Plus, Derek didn’t get Erika killed. That’s just plain wrong. Erica and Boyd ran away because the hunters went crazy. “You didn’t say it would be like this”. No, because Derek couldn’t have known, because Kate, Gerard, and Allison are outliers. Chris makes that abundanly clear in s1 and by the way he acts whe Allison goes rogue. The hunters became more brutal because Allison went on a path of revenge that was amplified by Gerard’s manipulation.

And I wonder why Gerard even had the chance to manipulate Allison? Why did she suddenly decide that Derek and his pack must die? It certainly wasn’t because a certain someone decided not to tell Allison the whole truth even though that caused innocent people getting hurt. /s

#the messy shit tag #submission #long post

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queerebrum · 4 years

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@lorrainebattaglia said: I’m not sure if you’re into soulmate AUs. But I like imagining that instead of being a weirdly tidy shitbag at that gas station (seriously, you washed his windows for intimidation?), that he realizes that this kid with the fuzzy affliction is his other half and it throws his entire life into a blender. Double angst points if for wolves it’s a scent thing and the reason Derek got snared by Kate is because of Chris’ scent on her

Which was an absolutely amazing prompt!! I hope I did it justice!! AO3 LINK!

Chris gave up on finding his soulmate a long time ago.

He gave up when his 18th birthday came and went and he’d walk the halls of his high school (and his college dorm) and lock eyes with everyone and...nothing. No spark. No sudden, inexplicable knowledge that this, this was the person you were supposed to be with forever. Part of him had always wanted to find them, to find the person he was destined for.

But like the good soldier he was, he’d consented to an arranged marriage. They’d even had a daughter – the future Argent matriarch that Chris spent his adulthood keeping Gerard as far from as possible. He’d seen what his father had twisted Kate into. He didn’t want that for Allison.

So nearly two decades past the average age one meets their soulmate, the last thing Chris expected was to look into a pair of angry hazel eyes and feel it. Whatever Chris was going to say flew out of his mind. He froze. This young man, this werewolf was his soulmate.

A shocked expression flickered across Derek Hale’s face too, the werewolf’s nostrils flaring suddenly before his eyes flicked away from Chris’s towards the gas pump. In a low voice he said, “Honestly, at this point killing me would be the least awkward way to handle this situation, so if you could just get that over with quickly, I’d appreciate it.”

Chris couldn’t exactly blame Derek for expecting that to be the reason he was there. Him, and the six other hunters he’d brought with him for back up. Chris stayed silent for another long moment, trying to figure out exactly what a married man his age and a twenty-something werewolf did about a moments-old soulmate bond.

Clearing his throat he looked at the other hunters. “He’s all alone, I think I can manage him.”

“Mr. Argent –”

“You heard me.” He looked around at the hunters. “Go back to the house. If I need backup, I’ll be sure to call.”

Chris was sure that inevitably this choice would raise eyebrows with someone. Him sending his backup away? Leaving himself alone at a gas station, late at night with a werewolf just nights after bodies had started showing up? Unheard of. If anything happened to him, the men he’d just sent away could be killed for allowing it.

But, Chris was a soldier not a prince, no matter how Gerard tended to treat him.

When the other hunters had left – and Derek was done pumping his gas – Chris held up both of his hands and stepped towards the young man. “Two questions. I just need to ask you two questions and then if you never want to see me again, I’ll understand.”

Derek had his hands tucked into the pocket of his jacket, and turned to face Chris, his mouth pressed in a thin line. “Fine.”

“Are you the alpha?” It was a question that needed to be asked, though Chris had a feeling just from the way Derek held himself that that wasn’t the case. He didn’t seem like the kind of alpha that would be wreaking havoc. He seemed like a terrified young man.

“No.” Derek answered, eyes on the ground. “And don’t ask me to prove it.”

“That would be a waste of my second question,” Chris smiled. “Do you know who the alpha is?”

Derek shook his head. “I’m trying to figure it out too.”

Chris nodded. “Thank you for being honest.”

Derek sighed, his eyebrows drawn together, and he looked up finally, those hazel eyes - flecked with gold and green now that Chris was close enough to see them. “Can I ask you a question?”

Chris folded his hands in front of him. “Seems fair.” He studied the hunch of Derek’s shoulder, the way he kept his hands in his jacket, the hard set of his jaw.

“How are you related to Kate Argent?”

Chris frowned, his own brow furrowing at the question. “She’s my sister.”

Derek let out a long sigh and then nodded. “Got it. Thanks.” Without another word, Derek walked around to the drivers side of his car, glanced at Chris one last time, climbed in and drove away.

Chris didn’t know what to do with the information presented to him. He prided himself on his ability to compartmentalize, to keep his emotions out of decisions like this. And yet, as he watched the tail lights on the Camaro fade into the darkness, he couldn’t seem to figure out how he was supposed to go back to his life like everything was normal. LIke he hadn’t just run into his soulmate at a gas station.

He had so many more questions – how did Derek know Kate? What did Kate know about the Hales that she’d never mentioned? How much did his father know about the whole situation? How would Victoria react when – if – she found out?

He had more questions than answers.

And he wasn’t even sure if he wanted the answers.

Chris’s head was spinning. He was spinning and dangerously close to the kind of breakdown that hadn’t happened in years. He drove aimlessly around Beacon Hills, knowing exactly what – who – he was looking for but not sure where to begin to look.

He should be home. Home with his wife who’d been bitten by an alpha werewolf. Home with his daughter who in a matter of days would be losing her mother. Home keeping an eye on his father and trying to piece together how they were going to deal with the fact that one of his daughter’s classmates had been turned into a kanima.

Instead, he was alone, driving around Beacon Hills, following a tug in his chest because god damnit he deserved answers.

There was only one alpha werewolf in Beacon Hills at the moment. There was only one person who could have bitten Victoria, and Chris needed to understand why he’d done it.

He finally found the Camaro parked at an old rail depot, and pulled his SUV next to it. He rubbed at his eyes – stinging with unshed tears – before climbing out of it, pulling his gun from his holster before he walked into the building.

The depot was empty aside from Derek, who stepped out of one of the rail cars to stare at Chris in the near-dark. Chris wondered idly where the gaggle of teenagers Derek had also bitten were. Did they still have homes, have families to go back to? Or were they out terrorizing a town he was supposed to be protecting?

“You bit my wife,” was what spilled out of Chris’s mouth. There was an edge of hysteria to his voice. Confusion. Pain. He was closer to his own breaking point than he’d realized.

Derek leaned down to flick on a lamp and warm yellow light filled the dingy space. His arms crossed over his chest. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“I should kill you,” Chris laughed, bringing his free hand up to his mouth. He held the hand with the gun out, staring at it. “I should kill you right here for what you’ve done. It wouldn’t even break the code.”

“So why haven’t you?” Derek asked, eyeing the gun warily. That’s how they always were around each other. Wary. Nervous. Neither of them knew how the other thought or felt because they’re soulmates and they’re strangers.

“Tell me why. Tell me why my daughter deserves to grow up without a mother? Tell me what I did to deserve to lose her. She’s my wife Derek.”

“She was going to kill Scott.”

Derek’s tone was soft, sure, and so painfully truthful that it tore another hysterical laugh out of Chris’s throat. “What are you talking about?”

“Biting her was the only option I had. It was that, or kill her. I’m sorry, Chris. I didn’t do this to hurt you. I did this to save Scott.”

Chris slid his gun back into his holster before the shaking in his hands progressed far enough that he’d drop it. He folded both of his hands in front of his face, pressing his lips against his thumbs and looking over the tops of his hands at Derek. “She lied to me.”

Derek shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know what she told you. But, I’m not lying, Chris. You’d know it if I was.”

He would. He’d know because the bond in his chest that had led him to Derek would have told him. Chris felt unfamiliar tears prick in his eyes, hot and salty and foreign. His body was shaking and he was so unbelievably confused.

“Why would Victoria want to kill Scott? He hadn’t broken the code.”

“Y’know, I didn’t really stop to ask. But probably for the same reason your sister burned my family alive: because she felt like it.”

“Victoria isn’t Kate. She’s a good woman. A good mother.” Chris blinked rapidly to clear his vision, still staring at Derek. His instincts were screaming for him to turn away, hide his weakness, be anywhere but standing in front of an alpha werewolf in the middle of an emotional breakdown.

“I made a choice, Chris.” Derek’s voice had lost its disinterested edge. He’d stepped forward, head cocked to the side. “I made a choice between letting Scott die, or biting Victoria. I didn’t kill her. If she chooses to die instead of become a werewolf, that’s her decision. I didn’t do this to hurt you.”

Chris felt tears slip, hot and heavy. He finally broke his gaze, turning his back to Derek and wiping the tears away from his eyes. A million words flitted across his tongue; I don’t know what I’m going to do. Why is this happening? What did I do to deserve this? What did Allison do to deserve this?

A warm hand landed on his shoulder and Chris jumped but refused to react or turn. The hand felt like fire, the first real time Derek had ever touched him. It was nothing more than Derek’s palm resting on his shoulder, finger squeezing slightly, but it grounded him. Nothing made any more sense or felt any easier, but the tightness in Chris’s chest eased, and he felt himself draw in a shaky breath.

“I’m not sorry I did it.” Derek said, his hand still anchored on Chris’s shoulder, warm and real and a comfort. This was what it meant to have a soulmate. One touch from Derek felt more powerful than any time Victoria had touched him in almost 20 years of marriage. “I’d do it again. But I am sorry you’re hurting, Chris.”

Chris wasn’t sure what was worse: the fact that Derek wasn’t sorry, or the fact that Chris couldn’t bring himself to hate Derek for what he’d done.

Chris gripped the fence so hard his knuckles were white and the metal threatened to bite into the skin of his fingers. His knees felt weak, his heart shattered into a million tiny pieces. He tried to focus on breathing, on the simple in-out pattern, practiced and honed in hundreds of life or death situations.

In-2-3 out-2-3

Chris knew he had to keep himself together. He wanted to run to where Scott McCall sat holding his daughter’s body and see if there was any sign of life left, any chance that she could be alive. He wanted to hold Allison and tell her everything he’d never gotten the chance to. How proud he was of her. How amazing a person she was becoming. How he’d go through every painful part of his life over again just to have her in it.

And now she was gone.

Chris knew it in his heart. And Scott, as Allison’s soulmate, would have known best. Even without the banshee’s wail that had ripped through the night, the way Scott sat, numb and shell shocked, holding her body, told Chris everything he needed to know.

Chris was afraid that if he let go of the fence he’d go tumbling towards the ground. He was afraid he’d lose the carefully crafted persona of composure and competence. His daughter was gone. His wife was gone. He had nothing left to hold onto. Nothing left to live for, to fight for.

An arm, too warm to be human, wrapped around his chest from the back. A body, solid and real was suddenly right behind his. Chris knew instantly who it was and let out the shuddering breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He didn’t turn, didn’t dare take more than what Derek was freely giving, but he did lean back. He soaked in the heat of Derek’s body against the icy numbness of despair that was setting in.

“I’ve got you.” Derek’s other arm was wrapped firmly around Chris’s waist, Derek more than strong enough to keep Chris from falling to his knees with the gravity of his grief.

A lot had changed since that night at the gas station, where Derek had still been so lost in his own grief and anger Chris wasn’t even sure there was a whole person underneath the facade. A lot had changed since Chris had come to Derek begging for answers about biting Victoria. Derek was no longer an alpha. Chris no longer hunted. Now, he was a protector.

He was a protector and he’d failed to protect the person dearest to him.

Chris finally let go of the fence, his hands shaking as he cupped then over his face, drawing in long, uneven breaths. There was so much to do. They needed to figure out a cover story. He needed to coach the kids - Kira and Isaac and Scott – so that they didn’t reveal the supernatural. There were steps that needed to be taken before Chris could break.

But he took the moment Derek offered him. The moment of quiet understanding between two men who had collectively shared more loss than many would ever know. Chris let himself be comforted by Derek’s presence, by the warmth and the strength of his arms, by the quiet, even rhythm of his breath against Chris’s back.

When he was sure his knees wouldn’t go out from under him, Chris stepped forward gently. Derek’s arms fell away, though one of his hands rested on Chris’s hip, like Derek wasn’t quite sure that letting go was a great idea. (It was a terrible idea. Chris wanted to hide away in Derek’s embrace and pretend like he wasn’t facing the hardest situation of his entire life.)

“What can I do?” Derek asked softly.

Chris was afraid if he turned around, if he saw the softness, the genuine empathy in Derek’s eyes, he might break. “Stay close.” Chris said. “Please.”

The gentle brush of Derek’s thumb over Chris’s hipbone felt more intimate than a thousand kisses as the werewolf softly said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Once the Nogitsune is gone, locked away in a wooden box carved by an emissary for an alpha werewolf whose spark no longer exists, Chris sat down at his kitchen table with the heavy realization that all he had left in this world was Derek Hale.

His soulmate. His perfect match. The person he was supposed to have spent his life with.

Derek had stayed close since Allison died, but Chris wasn’t the only person Derek had. Chris wasn’t jealous of that fact. He was thankful, really. Thankful that Derek had a pack who needed him, a pack who loved him. He had Scott and Isaac and Stiles and Lydia and Kira. And Derek had done his best as the pack elder to hold them all together through this storm of loss.

And they loved him for it.

They loved him in a way Chris wasn’t sure his shattered heart would ever be able to manage. They loved him in a way Chris wasn’t sure he deserved to love someone like Derek. Someone who made his mistakes and learned from them. Someone who had faced a life full of so much tragedy he nearly put Chris’s own to shame.

And yet, Chris looked up to hear the door open, and heard laughter – laughter – ringing through his otherwise empty apartment. Derek and Isaac stumbled through, laughing about whatever happened at the movie they’d gone to see. Isaac looked at Chris, flashed a small, grateful smile, and then excused himself.

“Movie was okay then?” Chris asked after a moment.

“Definitely not the worst one they’ve convinced me to go see,” Derek said, wandering towards the table and leaning against the corner next to where Chris sat. “Do anything exciting?”

“I finally ordered the postage.” Chris motioned to the jar that held the Nogitsune. “And reached out to a contact in France. They’re going to take care of it.”

“That’s good.” Derek smiled, small but genuine.

Chris felt the warmth, the comfort of having his soulmate near wash over him. He couldn’t stop himself from bringing his hand up and resting it against Derek’s hip. Derek’s all but lived at Chris’s apartment in the last few weeks. Staying close, being nearby for when things felt like too much. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Chris said quietly. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“It never gets easier,” Derek said. There was so much wisdom in what he said that it made Chris ache for the child Derek had once been. Had he ever known peace? “But I wouldn’t be here without people to rely on.”

“I’m sorry you got stuck with someone like me,” Chris admitted, running his thumb over Derek’s hip bone. “You deserve someone your own age, someone less broken.”

“That’s not how soulmates work. Besides.” A small chuckle escaped him. “I’m sort of broken myself.”

Chris stood up, shaking his head. “You still deserve so much better.”

“When I was 15, I had to mercy kill the girl I loved as she died from bite rejection.” Derek stepped closer to Chris, their bodies nearly touching, Derek’s hands at his side, brushing against the grip Chris still had on his hip. “When I was 16, I thought I found my soulmate. Turned out it was your sister, she just smelled like you. She burned my family alive.”

Chris looked away, letting his eyes fall closed. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop.” Derek said. One of his hands cupped Chris’s cheek, tilting his face back towards Derek’s own. “A few months ago I was manipulated by a dark druid masquerading as an English teacher. The details don’t matter but I can promise you this, Chris. You are what I deserve. You’re my mate. I may not have liked it, but I’ve never doubted it.”

They were so close that Chris could see the kaleidoscope of colors in Derek’s eyes. Their bond was singing with the truthfulness of his words and Chris was overwhelmed with the rightness of how the moment felt. “I don’t know if I can love you the way you deserve.” Chris whispered.

“You already do.” Derek said, leaning their foreheads together.

Chris let his eyes slip closed, let himself stand there in the moment, his daughter pushed to a corner of his mind as he reveled in being close with someone who made him feel whole despite the ragged edges and broken pieces. “Are you sure?” Chris asked, needing to know, needing one last confirmation that this was what Derek wanted. He wanted a broken old man with more skeletons than he had closets to put them in.

Derek didn’t reply with words, but the kiss he pressed to Chris’s lips was soft and sweet, genuine and giving. Somehow, despite the world's constant attempts to turn him into something sharp and dangerous, Derek had retained this softness, this capacity for love and forgiveness.

Chris stopped over thinking. He stopped thinking altogether. There would be time for that in the future. For now, he just leaned close, wrapped his arm around Derek’s waist and returned the kiss.

#teen wolf #Chris argent #Derek hale #dargent #cherek #deropher #chrisderek #my fic #soulmate au #grief and mourning #dh #ca #in bed with the right argent

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ellewritesathing · 5 years

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So Close - S.S. X

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Prologue - S2E1 Part 1 - S2E2 + S2E3 Part 2 - S2E4 + S2E5 + S2E6 Part 3 - S2E7 +S2E8 Part 4 - S2E9 + S2E10 Part 5 - S2E11 + S2E12 Part 6 Part 7 - S3AE1 Part 8 - S3AE2 + S3AE3 Part 9 - S3AE4 Part 10 - S3AE5 + S3AE6

Word-count: 4.7k+

A/N: Motel California is one of my least favourite Teen Wolf episodes, but I hope you guys still enjoy what I did with it! Feedback and criticism is always welcome :)

This year was supposed to be different. Scott was getting his life together. The Argents weren't hunting anymore. Derek wasn't turning anyone else. Erica and Boyd were coming home. Different. Better. But it had been less than a month and if anything had changed, it was for the worst.

Scott wasn’t healing from his injury. The Argents were keeping secrets from each other. Derek was dead. Erica was dead. Different. Worse. And the fact that the bus was approaching a literal storm on the horizon felt more like another bad omen than just another bump in the road on the way to a crappy cross-country meet.

“Stop thinking about it, man.” You turned in your seat when you heard Isaac’s voice so that you were leaning up against the window and had a clear view of him and Boyd.

“Like you’re not thinking about it, too?” Boyd asked.

“Yeah, well, we’ll both stop thinking about it.” You rolled your eyes as you listened to Isaac speak.

“I can’t.”

“Look, it’s not like any of us can do anything about it,” you said, looking past Boyd to where Ethan sat with Danny. “It’s a little bus.”

“You sure about that?” Boyd asked.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket so you motioned for them to talk it out while you checked the message. It was from Lydia.

‘Allison is two cars behind the bus and we’re running out of gas.’

‘Just stop for gas. It’s not like you don’t know where we’re going.’

You turned back to Boyd and Isaac but your phone buzzed again.

‘You don’t think I tried that? She doesn’t want to lose you guys.’

You rolled your eyes and shared your location with her.

‘There. Get gas and just track my location, weirdos.’ ‘I love you, by the way. It’s sweet that you’re worried.’

---

“The two of you, back in your seats!” Coach yelled. You ducked into the seat in front of Scott and Stiles, flashing the girl next to you an apologetic smile. “Jared, again? Carsick? Ever ti- Why do you even get on the bus? McCall, not you, too!”

“No, Coach, I’m good.” Scott’s voice was raspy as he answered and he looked like he was going to puke.

“You’re still not healing?” You leaned over the seat to get a better look.

“I don’t know. Does he still bleed if he’s healing?” Stiles asked sarcastically and you glared at him. He stammered out an apology and you looked back to Scott with a much softer expression.

“He’s listening,” Scott said, looking over to Ethan.

“Then can he hear me telling him to-”

“Stiles, not now.” You looked over your shoulder at Ethan. “Is he gonna do something?”

“Not in front of this many people,” Scott said. He closed his eyes again, probably in an effort not to be sick.

“Okay, well, what about the two ticking time bombs sitting right near him?” Stiles asked, pointing at Isaac and Boyd a few seats in front.

You shook your head. “They’re angry but they’re not that dumb … I hope.” Isaac’s head tilted as you spoke, obviously listening to your conversation. You mumbled an apology for him.

“And what if they are? What are we gonna do?” Stiles asked, talking more to Scott than you. “Are you gonna stop them?”

“If I have to,” Scott answered, nodding slightly.

“I don’t think it’ll come to that,” you said. Scott winced as the bus went over a pothole. “Hey, are you okay? I can ask Coach to stop the bus.”

Scott shook his head. “Alpha wounds take longer to heal.”

“Yeah, I know that. But Isaac and Boyd are fine. You should be too.” You leaned over to feel his forehead.

“Mom, I’m fine. Promise.” He had this annoying little smile on his face as he held onto your wrist.

“Yeah, must be if you’re making jokes like that,” you said and pulled your hand back.

Eventually, the bus rolled to a stop behind about a million other cars on the highway. A traffic jam. Just great. You were too busy being moody to notice what was going on with Boyd in front, but you stood up when Scott struggled to his feet.

“Boyd, he’s gonna do something,” he said. You nodded and helped him into the aisle. Stiles grabbed your hand before you could follow Scott to the front.

“Stiles, not now,” you said for the second time in the past hour. You shook off his hand and took another step forward, but he grabbed your arm again and pulled you closer.

“Will you just sit down?” Stiles asked. “He needs this.”

“Let go of me.”

Stiles let go and you took a breath. “He needs a win after- after Derek, okay?”

You walked past him and slumped into what used to be Scott’s seat. Stiles slid in next to you with a stupid grin on his face. “Ah, atta-girl,” he teased and you glared at him. “You spend way too much time with the Hales, by the way.”

---

After Stiles harassed Danny and found out that Ennis might live through the night, the mood somehow got more relaxed and double as tense. You hoped that meant Derek was alive as well, but you were too scared to admit it. As if saying it out loud would jinx it.

“Now the rest of you,” Coach said when he was done traumatizing Jared. “Don’t think we’re gonna miss this meet because of a slight traffic jam, or the minor tornado warning, or Jared. We’re gonna make this thing! Nothing's gonna stop us! Stilinski, put your hand down!”

“You know, there’s a food exit like half a mile up. I don’t know if we stop and then maybe traffic-” Stiles’ plan didn’t sound half bad but Coach wasn’t having any of it.

“We’re not gonna stop.”

“Okay, but if we stop-”

“Stilinski!” Coach blew his whistle. The werewolves of the bus looked like they were going to cover their ears, but you figured that was just because of the sound ricocheting off every surface in the bus. “Shut it! Seriously! It’s a little bus! Stop asking me questions!”

“I hate him,” Stiles said as he leaned back in his seat. “That man is like an impenetrable wall of-”

“Jared gets carsick,” you pointed out. Stiles looked over at you and you gave him a small shrug. “It would be a real shame if he got sick and we had to pull over to clean the bus. We'd be delayed at least an hour …”

“Yeah, a real shame,” Stiles said, beginning to get a sly smile on his face.

“A crying shame, even.”

“Oh no.” Scott came back looking like he wished he’d stayed in the front with Boyd and Isaac. “I hate it when you two look at each other like that. The last time that happened, I sprained my ankle!”

“Yeah, but did you die?” Stiles asked. “No? Then shut up. We’ve got a plan.”

“No way. You’re not harassing some poor kid!”

“You don’t even know who we're harassing!”

“Scott, you're not healing,” you said, looking at him with pleading eyes. “Please, just sit down and let us handle this.”

“But-”

“Please?”

Scott took a deep breath and sat down, though it looked more like he just collapsed into the seat. You leaned down to kiss his head when you and Stiles got up.

“Thank you.” You gave him a smile before taking your phone out of your pocket and handing it to him. “Call Lydia and tell her we’re going to stop.”

“They’re in Beacon Hills. What’s that gonna help?” Scott asked.

“They’ve been two cars down since we left. Nice to see that nothing gets past those keen werewolf senses, huh?” You rolled your eyes and followed Stiles up to the front. He was already distracting Coach, so you slid into the seat next to Jared.

---

Scott stumbled out of the bus and Lydia and Allison were both there to help drag him to the bathroom. He was bleeding through his shirt and it kind of made you want to throw up.

“Woah, woah, woah. What are you doing?” Stiles asked just before you crossed the bathroom threshold.

“Saving my brother. What are you doing?”

“You need to stay out here with Isaac and Boyd.” Stiles kept talking over your protests. “You’re the only one of us they like! They’ll listen to you, okay? Look, you know I won’t let anything happen to Scott. I promise. No matter what."

You took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. “No matter what.”

Stiles squeezed your shoulder before dashing in after the others. You turned to regroup with Boyd and Isaac but they weren’t that interested in what was happening to Scott. They just kept glaring at the twins.

You turned away for a few minutes to leave Melissa an update, and when you got back the two of them were gone. Isaac was beating the crap out of Ethan and Boyd was just letting it happen. You rushed over but Isaac didn’t hear you screaming for him to stop, and he didn’t care when you tried to push him back.

You managed to knock him down and then rushed to Ethan to make sure he was okay. Your hands were holding his face and you barely heard his ‘watch out’ before you saw Isaac stand again. He pulled his arm back to hit Ethan again, and you pulled him close to you, hoping that at the very least Isaac wouldn’t hit so hard if you were wrapped around the guy he was punching.

When the punch didn’t land, you took slow breaths and looked up. Scott had snapped Isaac out of it, and you were made distinctly aware of how close you were to someone who helped kill one of your best friends. You pushed yourself away and crawled back until you felt arms catch under your shoulders and pull you up. You clung haphazardly Stiles when you were on your feet.

“Thanks,” you said breathlessly.

“Anytime.” He moved a piece of hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear. You thought he was going to kiss you, but you both snapped out of it when Coach told Ethan to get cleaned up because you were leaving in five minutes.

You both walked over to the group, and you tugged on Scott’s sleeve to get his attention. You took him to sit on the benches so you could talk.

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” you asked cautiously. Scott didn’t answer. “It’s not your fault Derek’s dead.”

“You don’t know what happened that night.”

“No,” you exhaled. “But Isaac told me that he had to pull you off of the edge because it looked like you were gonna jump off after him. I- I’m not arguing with you; I probably would’ve backflipped off that ledge if I thought it would make a difference. But, Scotty ... no one blames you for what happened.”

“I blame me for what happened,” he said. “Everything that’s happened. Allison’s mom, Erica, Derek, the sacri-”

“None of that is your fault.” You held his face in your hands to make him look at you. “And you can’t keep yourself from healing because you don’t think you deserve to.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Scott looked away from you again and you sighed. “Derek cared about you. So did Erica, believe it or not. They wouldn’t want you dead.” You got up and held your hand out to him. “I don’t want you dead.”

Scott didn’t say anything, but he took your hand and followed you back on the bus. Allison asked if she could sit next to him, so you were left looking for a place to sit. Danny was out because he was with Ethan; Isaac and Boyd were paired up and, honestly, you were kind of avoiding them; and Lydia and Stiles were together. You ended up finding a random seat and hoping the drive wouldn’t drag on too long.

---

The bus came to a stop in front of possibly the seediest motel you’d ever seen. You stepped out and shared a worried look with Scott while Coach gave the group a talk. The more you looked at the motel, the more you knew you didn't want to be there.

“Listen up,” Coach started. “The meet’s been pushed till tomorrow. This is the closest motel with the most vacancies and the least amount of good judgment when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates like yourselves. You’ll pairing up. Choose wisely.”

Pretty much everyone who paired up on the bus started looking at each other, so you made your way over to Scott, slipping your hand in his. “Hey, big brother who I love and adore most ardently,” you said with the biggest smile you could muster up. “Don’t suppose you wanna share a room with me?”

“Woah, Scott, no. If you’re with her, then where am I gonna sleep?” Stiles asked.

“You can share my bed,” Scott offered with a small shrug.

“I’ll just sleep on the floor. Thanks.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed them forward to grab the keys. You caught Isaac’s eye and smiled at him, hoping he got the mental ‘it’s okay, we’ll talk later’ message you sent and wouldn’t confront you about what happened earlier.

The room didn’t inspire much confidence but you pushed through. Scott asked who wanted to shower first and you shuddered. “I’m gonna check on Lydia. She didn’t seem too happy about being here,” you said.

You found Lydia outside her and Allison’s room, heading off to get new towels from the front. Allison was already showering. She looked pretty tense and you bumped her arm lightly.

“Lyd, what’s up? You’ve been kinda weird since we stopped,” you said gently.

“It’s just …” You watched her look around, like she was trying to find inspiration to word what she needed to say. “You weren’t here when I had a psychotic break and wandered around the woods for three days, but you were here when I had my second psychotic break and brought Peter back from the dead. And it feels like that. Like something horrible is going to happen tonight.”

“Yeah, I have that feeling too,” you admitted. “Though I don’t think tonight’s the best night for a naked stroll in the woods, do you?”

That made her laugh and shove you lightly, but the few moments of lightness vanished as soon as you stepped into the reception area. You watched her interact with the owner, and then when Lydia froze, looking at the number on the wall, you asked what it meant.

“It’s a kind of inside thing for the motel. My husband insists on keeping it up,” the lady explained. You held Lydia’s hand as she went on. “It’s a little morbid, to be honest.”

She told you that the Glen Capri had the highest number of suicides in all the motels in California. Lydia’s grip on your hand brought you back to reality, so you hurried out a thank you and rushed yourself and Lydia out of there.

“You forgot your towels!”

The two of you told Allison what you found out as soon as you were back in the room and she was dressed. All she asked is if you were sure that it was 198.

“Yes, and we’re talking over 40 years,” Lydia said. “On average, that’s … 4.95 a year, which is …”

“In this place? Kind of expected,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, but who commemorates that with a framed number?” Lydia almost yelled. You put your hands up in surrender and she rolled her eyes, motioning for you to move closer again.

“Wait, and they’re all suicides?” Allison asked.

Lydia told her that, yeah, they were all suicides and went on to describe a few different ways in which these suicides could have happened. But then she stopped. She was listening to something.

You looked over at Allison before leaning in closer and moving some of her hair out of the way. “Hey, Lyd, you okay? We don’t have to stay here if you-”

She got up and moved closer to the air vent, still listening, before turning around to face you and Allison. “The two people in the other room- they just shot each other. You didn’t hear that?”

You shook your head and Lydia pushed past you and ran next door, you and Allison following behind. The door was unlocked but you didn’t see anything when Lydia switched the light on. It was being renovated. You felt your heart rate slow down.

“It had to be right here,” Lydia said. She told you guys what she heard and Allison promised that she believed her. Lydia walked painstakingly slowly towards the wall, but you and Allison managed to take her back to the room. “There is something seriously wrong with this place,” she told you when the door was closed.

“But they were suicides, not murders,” Allison said. “And it’s not like this place is haunted, right?”

“I think that depends on your definition of haunted,” you said.

Lydia agreed with you. “I bet that couple made their suicide pact in that very room. Maybe that’s why they’re renovating; maybe they’ve been scraping brain matter off the wooden paneling.”

“Maybe we should find out,” Allison said. Lydia reluctantly agreed and they started walking out. “Y/N, you coming?”

“Uh, yeah.” You nodded, drumming your hand on your leg. “I just want to grab Stiles first. He’s pretty good with this stuff.”

“Okay, yeah. Meet you back here in like five minutes?” Allison asked.

You nodded and watched the two of them round the corner before going to find Stiles. You barged into the room to find Scott staring out the window, and for a split second when he turned to look at you, you could have sworn his eyes were red.

“Hey, Scott, you okay?” Stiles asked, walking out of the bathroom.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” Scott mumbled. He looked at you. “Uh, everything okay with Lydia?”

“Yeah, I just need to borrow Stiles for a second,” you lied. Something was up with him. “The shower’s not draining right and he took that plumbing job like two years ago so maybe he could help.”

“Stiles got fired from-”

“Yeah, thanks!” You grabbed Stiles and pulled him out of the room, motioning for him to be quiet until you got back to Allison’s room.

---

“The last time I saw Scott act like that was during the full moon,” Allison said.

“Yeah, I know. He was definitely a little off with me too,” Stiles agreed. “But actually, it was Boyd who was really off. I watched him put his fist through the vending machine.”

“See? It is the motel,” Lydia argued.

“But Isaac wouldn’t back down with Ethan earlier.” You shook your head, sounding unsure. “That’s not like him.”

“Still. Either we need to get out of here right now-” Lydia opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out the bible “-or someone needs to learn how to an exorcism ASAP before the werewolves go crazy and kill us.”

“Okay, just hold on, alright?” Stiles said. “What if it’s not just the motel? The number in the office went up by three, right?”

“You mean like three sacrifices?” Allison asked.

“What if this time it’s three werewolves?” Stiles asked. “Scott, Isaac, and Boyd. Maybe we were meant to come here.”

“Exactly!” Lydia exclaimed. “So can we get the hell out of here now? Please?”

Stiles looked at the bible in her hands and frowned. He moved to take it from her. “Hang on, let me see this,” he said. You looked over his shoulder and squinted at the newspaper clippings.

“Are those-” you started.

“The articles on the people who killed themselves,” he interrupted, dumping all the clippings on the bed.

“If all the rooms have bibles-”

“There could be articles in all of the rooms.” Lydia was the one who interrupted you this time. She mentioned the couple she heard next door again, but stopped when you heard a noise coming from the room and Stiles ran out, all of you following behind. The door was locked.

“That was not locked before!” Lydia yelled.

“It sounds like someone turned on the handsaw,” Allison said. You and her shared a look before pushing Lydia back and kicking in the door. Stiles rushed in and found Ethan holding the handsaw dangerously close to his stomach. The two of them wrestled it out; the handsaw eventually tossed to the side, Ethan shoved backwards into the heater, and Stiles tripping over the wire and almost decapitating himself of the machine.

You rushed forward and pulled him away, holding him in your arms for a second before the two of you scrambled to your feet. Ethan was getting up again. He stormed out and the four of you chased after him.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” he snapped when you reached the stairs. “I don’t know how I got there or what I was doing.”

“Okay, you could be a little more helpful, you know?” Stiles told him. “We did just save your life.”

“And you probably shouldn’t have,” Ethan said, retreating back to his room.

“Guys, I’m gonna go find Isaac,” you said, not really paying attention to them. “We’ve seen all the wolves since we got here but no one’s seen him.”

Allison nodded. “Yeah, and I’ll find Scott. You two get Boyd.”

Isaac and Boyd’s room looked empty when you got inside, but you could hear something. The faint sound of crying and some scratching noise. It was under the bed.

“Isaac?” you called gently. The noise stopped. You crouched down and looked under the bed. Isaac’s frightened eyes stared up at you. “Hey, buddy, we’re gonna get you out of there, okay?” You reached your hand in and he crawled further back. You heard water running and hit your head on the bed when you looked up to see who it was. Boyd. With a gigantic safe in his arms. “Boyd, what are you doing?”

You followed him into the bathroom but it was like he didn’t even register that you were there … until you tried to wrestle the safe out of his arms. Then he looked you dead in the eyes before flinging you into the bathroom wall.

You groaned and your vision blurred, but you could still make Boyd out as he got into the water and placed the safe over his chest. Stiles and Lydia rushed in and tried to help but to no avail. Lydia told Stiles to get the road flares from the bus - they work underwater and could snap Boyd out of it, if he got it in time.

You dashed back into the room and fumbled through the nightstand. Lydia asked what you were doing but you didn’t have time to answer. When you found the lighter, you dropped to the floor and reached under the bed. You switched it on and shoved the flame into Isaac’s face. He woke up and grabbed the lighter from you, looking confused.

“Y/N, what the hell are you-”

“I’ll explain later! Right now, you’ve gotta help me,” you said, dragging him out from under the bed. Stiles was back with the road flare and he managed to wake up Boyd before you got there.

Isaac pulled you out of the way when Boyd launched the safe across the bathroom as he sat up. You mumbled a thank you and waited for your heart to slow down. But then you remembered something. Scott.

You raced out, almost crashing into Allison. “I can’t find Scott anywhere,” she told you, panic in her eyes.

“It’s happening to him too, isn’t it?” Stiles asked.

“What do you think? Three out of four werewolves seem to have it.” The words tumbled out of your mouth without thinking, but thankfully Lydia was talking so you didn’t have long to dwell on it.

“Uh, guys?” Lydia pointed out to where the bus was stopped. Scott was standing in front of it, doused in gasoline and holding a flare in his hands. You moved to run over but Stiles caught your wrist. The situation needed a more delicate approach than tackling him.

“There’s no hope,” he said when you all stopped in front of him. He sounded defeated.

“What do you mean, Scott?” Allison asked. “There’s always hope.”

“Not for me,” he said. “Not for Derek.”

“Derek wasn’t your fault,” she said.

“Every time I try to fight back, it just gets worse. People keep getting hurt.” It was like Scott couldn’t even hear Allison, so you decided to try to get closer to him. If you could get the flare out of his hand … “People keep getting killed.”

“Scott, listen to me, okay?” Stiles begged. He was taking steps closer right with you. “This isn’t you, alright? There is someone inside your head telling you to do this. Okay? Now-”

“What if it isn’t?” Scott asked. “What if it’s just me? What if doing this is actually the best thing I could do for everyone else?”

“It’s not,” you promised. Talking was enough of a distraction that he let you step into his gasoline puddle.

“It all started that night. The night I got bitten. You remember the way it was before that?” Scott had turned to Stiles now. “You and me, we were- we were nothing. We weren’t popular. We weren’t good at lacrosse. We weren’t important. We were no one … Maybe I should just be no one again. No one at all.”

“Scott, just listen to me, okay?” Stiles repeated. “You’re not no one, okay? You’re someone, you’re- Scott, you’re my best friend. Okay? And I need you. Scott, you’re my brother. Alright, so …” He stepped into the puddle of gasoline. “So if you’re gonna do this, then …” He put his hand around the flare. “I think you’re just gonna have to take me with you. Alright?”

“What he said,” you smiled gently. “I love you, Scott. And I’m not letting you do this by yourself.”

Scott was crying, and you grabbed the flare out of his hand as he collapsed onto Stiles. You threw the flare to Allison, but she was distracted and fumbled. You heard it clatter to the ground and then Lydia screaming. The next thing you knew, Lydia and Allison had knocked the three of you down and the gasoline went up in flames.

And from those flames emerged one of the most horrifying things you’d ever seen: the Darach.

---

You knocked on Isaac and Boyd’s door and started talking as soon as they answered. “There is no way that I’m sleeping in this crappy motel,” you told them. “The rest of us are sleeping on the bus, you in?”

The agreed and you walked them to the bus. Things were still tense because half of you were dealing with almost killing yourselves, and the other half was dealing with trying to stop it, but they were better. You’d changed shoes and Scott was washing the gasoline off in the shower. Isaac and Boyd slumped into adjacent bus benches and you saw Lydia and Allison were already snuggled up under a jacket and asleep. You sighed and sat down, waiting for Scott to come back.

“You don’t look too comfortable,” Stiles said, hopping over the seat in front of you and to get to the window seat on your bench.

“Mmm. Waiting up for Scott,” you mumbled. “How long does it take to get gasoline out of your hair?”

“Uh, in my experience it’s easier to just shave it off. Not a real hit with the ladies but effective.” You laughed and leaned into him. He was warm.

“That why you grew it out? Hoping to get more attention from the girls?”

“Nah.” He gently moved some hair that had fallen over your face when you moved under his arm. “Just the attention from one.”

“And how's that working out for you?” You were playing with the drawstrings of his hoodie.

“Not as well as I hoped, but I’m hanging in there.”

You must have fallen asleep in Stiles’ arms, because you woke up with the two of you covered by Scott’s jacket and Coach yelling. Scott had been asleep on the bench in front of you.

“I don’t want to know,” Coach told you all. “I really don’t want to know. But in case you missed the announcement: The meet’s canceled, so we’re going home. Pack it in!”

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles slow burn #stiles stilinksi imagine #mccall!reader #teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf rewrite #so close

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stereksecretsanta · 4 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @bewarethesmirk!

Words: 5155

Rating: Teen and up

Tags: Sterek Secret Santa 2019, Christmas fic, miscommunications, broody!Derek, college student Stiles, enemies to lovers, yoga instructor Derek, AU – no werewolves, mention of dead family members, minor angst, happy ending, fluff tropes, kissing, cuddling.

I didn’t write a coffee shop AU, but I hope you will enjoy a broody Derek teaching yoga, featuring a feud over a quilt…?

*****

Yoga to take your chances with me

There is a twink formerly known as Mieczyslaw ‘Stiles’ Stilinski standing outside the yoga studio, making Derek’s life miserable. Stiles would argue (if he got the chance to) that he’s technically already inside the studio, and he’s making Derek’s afternoon miserable, ‘because perspective, Derek. That’s your whole shtick, isn’t it?’. He can practically hear Stiles argue in his head. Some days Stiles’s voice drifts in and out of his stream of consciousness like an ocean tide - always there to offer a running commentary on Derek’s goings.

Maybe it’s his brain preparing him for what is bound to happen if he lets Stiles through the door; reminding him sternly that it’s a bad idea. He’s ten minutes into a class, not the best circumstances for removing Stiles from the premises. He hopefully glances over at Boyd, whom he knows from the regular gym and considers a friend. Derek raises his brows asking (30% rhetorically, 70% pleadingly… 0.01% desperately) ‘Should you or shall I?’.

Boyd looks back with a serene smug ’Nah, you’re on your own on this one’.

Derek returns his glare to Stiles, who’s leaning against the glass partition that separates the lobby from the training area. A glass partition which Stiles now presses his obtuse face to, mashing it against the flat surface. Not for the first time post the Stilinski infestation Derek reminds himself that he teaches anti-violence for a living. If his clients ever got access to a running transcript of his inner monologue he’ll be committed, but he doesn’t see that as a legitimate reason as to not vividly fantasize about running Stiles’s head through the glass.

Derek takes in the eighteen students in his beginners’ class, a rag-tag group of Beacon Hills residents ages 18 to 75, varying from seasoned athletes to those who barely made it through gym class in school. They’d surely vote in favor for Derek packaging Stiles up and FedEx him to his home address.

He wisely decides to ignore Stiles for the time being (he knows why he’s banned) and picks up the instructions where he left off:

“When you follow your in-breath, you are able to use the awareness of your current breath to anchor yourself in your body; in this present moment. Notice the pause where the breath turns… and breathe out slowly. Good.”

His voice is low and assuring. He likes to teach the beginners class the most. Prefers it over the intermediate class, because he does a lot of slow-pace guiding and abandons most of the technical talk; not pushing any physical or mental limits the participants aren’t ready to face.

Stiles leans both his palms against the glass – smearing it with his palms – his eyes sweat-blinking with indignation, as if he’s trying to laser-carve the words I’m offended on Derek’s forehead.

“Now, we are going to check in with your posture. The next time you inhale, follow your in-breath up, through your neck, and breath out through the top of the head. As you breathe in, straighten your back to assume a posture of” – Stiles’s hands slips down the glass with a protracted squeal – “dignity.”

“Who’s that?” The complaint comes from Victoria, a middle-aged woman who carries herself like a drill sergeant.

“Remember,” Derek re-directs, “use any potential distractions as opportunities to actively choose where you direct your attention. Back to your breath.”

Victoria’s daughter, who occupies the mat to her left, lets out an amused snort – she’s the most diligent and attentive student in his class. Allison looks to him now as if she’s waiting for him to make the next move, and Derek knows he’s been out-voted. Damn it.

Stiles flinches when Derek reaches the lobby.

”You’re banned,” Derek states calmly. He’s aware that he’s had this exact conversation a thousand times before.

“THAT” – Stiles points accusatory to the note Derek has attached in the center of the partition. The note where he’s scribbled Stiles, you are banned. Go home – “is a particularly shitty way of announcing it.”

“You have repeatedly broken the membership guidelines, for months. You’ve wounded half of my clientele by now,” he hyperboles just to see Stiles��s eyes comically widen. “A truer false statement has never been spoken.”

Stiles splutters. “What, I’ve barely—“

“Isaac; two nosebleeds and a black eye.” Derek counts off his fingers. “Erica; elbowed twice, one busted lip. An average of seven complaints from costumers who you’ve intimately prodded with your foot without noticing. Mrs. Argent gave me five ultimatums about you per month. You need me to continue – or do you need them to tell you?” He indicates the audience they are attracting behind the glass. “If you wanted to be here so badly you shouldn’t have repeatedly disrupted my classes.”

Stiles draws an angry, shuddering breath. “You were supposed to teach me how to yoga, so technically my failure is your failure.“

“I can’t teach you ‘how to yoga’, I don’t think no one can.”

”Oh ha hah, Yoga Mulaney, everybody!” Stiles laughs cruelly. “Too bad insults don’t exclude my right to defend myself in the court of law.”

”There’s not a lawyer in the country that would touch your case.”

There’s a hint of amusement breaking through Stiles’s exaggerated fury. “So you’re really not going to let me in? What if I—“

He makes a half-assed attempt to run past, but Derek is faster – all it takes is a firm hand on Stiles’s chest.

There’s a beat, where Stiles’s just gaping and processing the betrayal, looking between Derek’s face and his hand before boiling over. ”BUT IT’S CHRISTMAS!”

Derek tells himself not to laugh. “That’s not an acceptable defense speech. I have to get back to my class. You should leave.” Or hang back here so I can talk to you.

”I don’t think… you’ve never been mad over that stuff before.” The crease in Stiles’s forehead deepens in suspicion. “Wait. That’s what it is? You’re mad that I stole your pillow, because I… yeah, you know what? I’m keeping that, and I still have beef with you about the quilt.” He fold his arms.

“You have beef about the quilt,” Derek repeats flatly. That’s about the most discouraging thing Stiles can say to him, but he supposes he can force himself to understand Stiles’s motivation.

“Uhm, yeah. If I’m banned for life, I’m not walking out of here empty-handed.” Stiles slides his hands inside his pockets; steps back. It’s a retreat, and they both now his absence will be permanent.

“How about I give you the quilt after you apologize like an actual adult.” Derek looks, really looks at him to convey that he’s still here if Stiles decides he feels the same thing, but Stiles’s gaze is alive with indignation and flickering uncertainly to the rest of the class. And the note stuck to the glass. “You apologize first, asshole. I’m the wounded party here.”

“In that case,” Derek says tersely, and stomps back to take his place in front of the class to teach some goddamn peace of mind.

A few months ago…

The first time Stiles shows up in Hale’s yoga studio he’s nervously hovering on the threshold, looking like he’s about to rob the place with a lacrosse-stick. Derek steps around the reception desk.

“First time?” he asks civilly.

”Huh?”

”Yoga?” Derek’s eyes do a tour around the facilities in case Stiles wasn’t aware of his location. ”Are you here to sign up for the beginners class?”

Stiles squints at a spot on the wall for ten seconds straight, grimacing like it physically hurts to come up with an answer. His face is weirdly hypnotizing, holding Derek’s attention in the meantime. ”I could be? I mean, I never saw myself doing that stuff, y’know. But here we are?”

Okay... Derek decides to go forward with the standard questions. “Do you have any injuries I should be aware off? Do you work out regularly? Any sports?”

“Nah. Lacrosse, in high school, now not so much. My best friend is an assistant teacher so we use the facilities sometimes for old times sake.”

“You’re in college?”

“I come home when I can. Have some peace and quiet.” He flexes his long fingers, joints popping, and grins cheekily when Derek frowns, “I really should dilute my Internet addiction with some physical exercise. A bit of Zen.”

His words make less of a sense but he’s also cute.

“You’ll need a mat and a few other things.” Derek leads his new client to the supply closet and hands them to Stiles, one by one. “First class is free, and starts in five. Can you do that?”

Stiles nod quickly, and grapples his mat-roll. “Totally.”

Turns out Stiles, occasional Lacrosse enthusiast, might have the muscle strength to hold his body in the asanas Derek guides the class through, but doesn’t have the flexibility or range of motion to survive even the beginners class without losing balance and dealing out blows with his flailing limbs.

By the end of it Stiles is left crying into his yoga mat in the child’s pose, cradling his waist, and getting mocked by Erica.

Here’s the kicker though: Stiles comes back a week later, and then on Thursday in Derek’s advanced class. It’s a disaster. Yet another accidental bitch-slap when Stiles loses his balance and domino-tumbles over Isaac Lahey who happens to be innocently reaching Nirvana behind him.

On Friday morning (does he even go to college?) he shows up to inexplicably join Derek’s yoga class for women on maternity leave and their babies.

“Yo, you said it would be much more chill,” Stiles accuses from the floor, where he’s languidly patting a small infant on her back.

Derek halts by his mat, “I meant the Kundalini, which was the class an hour before this one.”

It’s a challenge to sound admonishing when there’s a fuzzy baby head snoozing right under Stiles’s chin. He looks like he’s secretly terrified that the baby will slip down his chest like a slippery bar of soap if he sneezes. Derek wonders if he should offer Stiles a bean-bag to care for once the mother returns from the bathroom. It looks like an effective way to keep Stiles in check. Or, Derek hopefully looks around, is someone else willing to donate their child? Throwing human infants at Stiles unfortunately sounds like an emergency solution, though.

Stiles keeps showing up and he keeps going at it – teeth gritted, relentless, and occasionally guffawing so loud it disrupts Derek’s instructive monologues. Derek finds himself tracking Stiles’s progress. His non-linear progress, but progress nonetheless. Stiles sneaks into an intermediate class and when Derek looks over Stiles is in his sweats, standing in the advanced warrior pose. Stiles is ‘surfing’ his mat, as he likes to refer to it. He has the body of an athlete, long-limbed and by November he’s way more limber than before. His torso stretches gracefully when he cants his hips and reaches for the ceiling. By Derek’s instruction he applies pressure on his heel to further stretch his hip flexor; arches his back instead of staying in the safe position and slips his left hand around his waist to rest on his right inner thigh - a sight which Derek has a quiet aneurysm over – before Stiles promptly falls over like a cardboard cut-out of himself caught in a breeze, socking Isaac in the eye as they both go down. Derek laughs – the one time he failed to laugh internally, like a professional.

He can’t help but look forward to the times when Stiles lingers after class. Mostly recovering on the floor while Derek tidies up.

“Can you chalk like, around me while I lay here?” Stiles circle-motions his hand. “We can play CSI! I’ll be the victim. You’ll be the coroner.” He piano-taps at his sternum with two fingers.

“Tempting,” Derek says, causing Stiles to look up with hope written across his face, “But I would probably just step over you if I found you dead in the street.”

“That’s cold.” Stiles scratches his throat. It’s distracting how he’s always doing something off-beat with his hands, the motions catching Derek’s attention and holding it hostage.

“Hey, do you know this used to be a dance studio?” Stiles asks.

“Speaking of nothing. I think there was one before the building was closed for renovation. How do you know it was a dance studio?”

Stiles leisurely points to the nearest wall. He’s tired. “You haven’t noticed there’s still barres over there? And there, and there, and there.”

Of course Derek has noticed the handrails lining the walls in the loft. “I didn’t think you noticed them. Except for using them as a towel rack.”

Although he suspects Stiles takes notice of a lot of things.

Derek averts his eyes when Stiles yawns and scratches under his shirt. Stiles‘s gaze jumps to the spiral staircase. “So, what’s up there? Your office? Can I have a tour?”

For a moment Derek thoughts screech to a halt. The space up there is where he sleeps; it’s the equivalent of a small studio apartment. To have Stiles up there, walking around and touching his things, no, that would feel too much like a date. And Stiles isn’t flirting – he’s asking questions.

“I live up there,” he admits, unsure if it’s personal information he should share. “No, you’re not ever allowed up there, ever.”

“Not ever, ever? Don’t flatter yourself, Hale. As if I have the energy for stairs,” Stiles mutters glumly.

They keep having these little chats, and Derek actually enjoys them – he’s relieved that there’s at least one person in Beacon Hills he can talk nonsense with without feeling like Derek Hale, the guy who burned down his parents’ house with the parents still in it. That’s the neat summary of what Derek reads in people’s faces every time he’s in a store and notice how he’s being rubbernecked by the residents of Beacon Hills. It’s a small town, and he should’ve known what to expect when he moved back.

One evening Derek find himself re-telling his own first time in a yoga class as an eighteen year old, how he had been dragged inside by the neck by his sister Laura, who hissed at him to relax! He’s secretly proud of her efforts to bring him back to life by dragging him to yoga retreats and encouraging him to take instructor courses. When she left New York for Europe he decided to check out the town where they grew up, and open up a yoga studio of his own.

“So, what are you guys doing for the holidays?” Stiles asks, lounging in the sofa in Derek’s studio.

Derek raises his head, realizing he’s got four stragglers now: Stiles, Boyd, Isaac and Erica, who all refuses to leave at an appropriate hour and leave bags of chips in the corners. The loft is not a YMCA and he will not tolerate Isaac and Erica dragging in chairs from the lobby, or Boyd installing a fridge behind the counter. He doesn’t voice his concerns, instead noticing how unusually subdued they are in the aftermath of the other participants chatting amicably about Christmas plays, family dinners and finding that perfect last minute gift.

Boyd shrugs. “I will do what I always do. Spend Christmas at my parents’ house.” He sounds far from happy about the fact.

Isaac squirms, and it’s unlikely he has plans for Christmas. Derek knows a bit, well, enough to suspect that Isaac doesn’t have family to visit.

“I’ll be here,” Derek answers curtly, with enough finality for the topic to be dropped.

Stiles lets the melancholy prevail for almost thirty seconds.

“We should decorate this place with garlands and stuff.”

“No.”

“Yes!” Stiles grins.

Derek rolls his eyes in exasperation. “I swear I’ll throw a baby at you.”

“Dude,” Stiles says. “That makes no sense.”

Here’s the thing. Stiles can’t help himself, but he notices stuff about Derek and suddenly he’s addicted. Or crushing. Crushing hard.

He notices how Derek care individually for the other stragglers: Boyd, Isaac and Erica. Initially they are fiercely loyal, instinctively on Derek’s side after the chips incident (so he opened a bag of chips in class, big deal, it was boring and he had the munchies) (so he choked on a mouthful when Derek told him off big deal) (so he suffered through a coughing fit for twenty minutes straight which happened to also be the duration of Derek’s guided meditation).

But they dislike Stiles only for like two seconds, and then they fake-dislike him and deep down they love him, he’s sure. They start to bring snacks to the studio, which lead to a lot of grumbling and extra triple compulsive late night-vacuuming of the floor for Derek. Stiles stays late to help, saint that he is.

But, Stiles also notices, Derek never tells them to stop hanging around. Okay, he never stop asking them to leave, but he doesn’t force them to, and he’s getting softer. There lies a important distinction.

Furthermore. Stiles is objectively and subjectively finding Derek attractive. Yes. Have you seen Derek in black compression shorts flexing his hamstrings? Stiles has. Stiles has been guilty of peering through the glass when Derek has private sessions, where he and some other superman or -woman balance on their forearms and head. He has seen Derek’s death-defying acrobatics where he touches the soles of his feet together while in the headstand. He wouldn’t be surprised if one of these days he caught Derek levitating under the ceiling like a freaking bat.

Stiles also knows Derek always wears baggy basketball shorts over his compression ones to all his regular classes, overly concerned about not flashing his junk when he lifts his legs, and the man hates attention. Stiles knows by the stiff way Derek holds himself when he’s walking around before and after class that he much rather be handing out advice from a Skype call. Derek is secretly an introvert, but alone with Stiles? He’s relaxed, funny, and Stiles is addicted to his cynicism.

There’s a lump in Stiles’s throat when he finally decides to be done with the bullshit and finally tell Derek why he showed up that very first day. Rip off the truth-bandage.

Stiles drives back to Beacon Hills on a Thursday and makes sure he is the last man standing (laying down, star-fishing the floor, lamenting) after the end of the evening class. Derek is hovering over him with a soft expression (accentuated by the warm light from the still burning candles), and Stiles feels warm and buzzing with anticipation and nerves.

“Why are you still here?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Stiles sits up, gingerly when his wrung-out muscles protests, panics, and starts to ramble the thing he wasn’t suppose to reveal until he’d said the other thing. “I want… I want to ask you out, on a date. Because I think you are funny, and admirable, and hot when you’re holding babies and vacuuming, but also – your ass is fine, but that’s not... I neglect my studies and go home every opportunity I get just for the chance to see you.”

It’s not at all what he was planning to begin with. More like the last thing, the concluding remark. He stares at Derek, pulse rushing, caught between telling Derek the truth and shut up and just, just—

Derek kneels down in front of him, very, very close, and Stiles freezes in place. Derek nods, “Do you… want to come upstairs so we can talk about this?”

Stiles agrees with a foggy notion that that will give him enough time to explain why that won’t be the first time he’s been up there.

Derek throws caution the wind here and grabs Stiles’s hand. He leads the way up the winding staircase, mentally wondering if Stiles’s impression of him will shift when he sees where Derek lives. He doesn’t require much after five years on the east coast and three years in Beacon Hills. Shitty apartments have been a constant in his life ever since he left the first time, but this one he genuinely likes.

Stiles stares at the handmade quilt he’s got covering the bed, at the grotesque but matching throw pillows on the floor by the window where Derek occasionally reads or meditates, then back to the bed and the photos on the shelf above. Derek’s earthly possessions are scarce since the fire that burned down his home, and the framed photos are donated from friends of the family. There’s the graduation picture of Laura, arm confidently slung across Derek’s shoulder, and a picture of all the kids sitting on the hood of their parents’ car back when they went on a vacation to lake Michigan.

The rest of the stuff in Derek’s place can be sum up by a dead plant, a floor-fan covered in dust, and the mentioned quilt and pillows which Derek found in the cabinet when he moved in.

Stiles draws a shuddering breath and touches the quilt almost reverently. And is he... is he sniffing back tears? Fuck, Derek wouldn’t have brought Stiles up here knowing his apartment was such a downer…

Stiles starts to forcefully pull the quilt from the bed. There’s definitely a piece of vital information Derek’s missing here. “Stiles… What exactly are you doing?”

Stiles’s picks up the pillows from the floor too. He gathers them protectively against his chest, the quilt spilling over in his arms. “Fuck my life. Fuck my life, man. I should go.”

Derek craves a few more words of explanation, but Stiles is already stalking back to the stairs. “Is there a reason you’re stealing my bedspread?”

“I know, I know, I’m a horrible person. I’ll reimburse you,” Stiles yells, half-way down the staircase already. A beat later there’s a loud, metallic resonance from his collision with the railing, and a crash.

Stiles is sitting on the floor when Derek rushes downstairs, legs entangled. Derek gently removes the hand Stiles presses to his left temple, inspecting the damage.

Stiles groans. “Okay, fine, you might as well know before this building kills me. I never planned to come to your classes, alright. You asked what I was doing here and I didn’t know what to say. I want to remember my dead mom? You asked me if I wanted to sign up, so I just went with it.” He picks guiltily at the frays of the quilt. “My mom made these, so people could use them when this was her dance studio. I used to nap under this blanket, up there in her office, when I wasn’t crashing her classes. From what I remember she really loved this place.”

“I had no idea.” Derek wants to gather Stiles in his arms, to wrap him up in the quilt burrito style and get him upstairs and patch the gash in his head – but Stiles retreats. The quilt pools to the floor between them when he rises to his feet.

“I should go. I just…” He waves tiredly at the offending quilt, “I’m sorry, I panicked.”

“Take it. It’s yours, not mine,” Derek states. “Do you want to use my bathroom? I’ve got a first aid kit.”

Stiles shakes his head, bites his lips thoughtfully. “Not, not a good idea. I have to go home. Talk to my dad.”

Derek nods. The weird thing is that Stiles is usually so amicable with the information-oversharing. Yet Stiles kept the fact that this was his mother’s dance studio for three months. His thoughts goes to the image of how Stiles was looking at him that very first day in the lobby. The expression on his face which Derek finally can identify correctly: bafflement. Stiles was here to get a glimpse of his mom’s former practice, nothing else.

Stiles doesn’t come back the day after. Or the day after that. He’s a no show for two weeks straight, and the semester is ending on Friday. Erica kind of hints she has Stiles’s number, but Derek’s convinced Stiles wouldn’t appreciate Derek bothering him. The realization that Stiles up and left the second he got what he wanted (closure?) is tough to swallow. The bitter taste is still there when Stiles shows up to the last class late December, and sees the note Derek has stuck on the wall.

Stiles blowing up and Derek being defensive, all in front of an audience, is not how Derek thought the reunion with Stiles would go.

Derek spends the weekend before Christmas running new tracks in the woods north of town. When the morning of December 25th arrives he brews coffee and drinks it sitting cross legged in his bed in a sliver of pale sunlight, facing the shelf.

“Merry Christmas.” He drinks from his cup.

He calls Laura and they talk for a while, then tries to meditate but the head-space he’s in resumes the quality of empty and alone when he listens to the silence in the loft below. Derek wonders if he should feel angry. He is finally out of fucks to give, except maybe when it comes to his yoga studio. At least he has—

A rattle downstairs brings him abruptly out of his thoughts.

The distinctive sound of patting feet crossing the floor of the studio. Several feet.

When Derek descends the staircase he’s dumb-struck by the sight of Boyd, who should be celebrating Christmas with his parents; Isaac, who Derek should’ve given an extra thought to; Erica, whose family life Derek doesn’t know that much about, and three others whose presence he has no idea how to reconcile with: Allison, a dark-haired boy holding her hand, and Stiles.

Derek descends the last two steps in Stiles direction before he thinks better of it, looking around and feeling caught in the spotlight.

“What are you doing here?”

”Do you honestly think I want to spend the holidays stuck at my parents’ house?” Boyd wonders.

Derek doesn’t know how to answer that, except he does, in his mind: Of course you would.

Boyd gives a short and dismissive head-shake. “Not so much. I doubt they’ve noticed I’m not in my room, and their idea of Christmas is too close to a wake for my liking. We were hoping we could spend it with you. Use the kitchen Stiles tells me you got up there.”

Derek nods an affirmative, and that’s enough for the confident smile to return to Boyd’s features – and okay, now they’re hugging.

It sets of a chain reaction. Isaac hugs him. Erica hugs him. It’s awkward, it’s weird as heck, but he humors them, even Allison’s boyfriend who gives him a bright “Hey” and an energetic shoulder-pat before he’s pulled back by Allison and stumbles over the huge net filled with volleyballs he’s holding (Allison’s boyfriend is an assistant gym teacher and also Stiles’s best buddy).

Allison hugs him and kisses his cheek: “My mom wishes you happy holidays. You know she would never say it in person.”

Derek will process this at a later date because Stiles is in his line of vision, with a sheepish look and a blush that deepens when Derek pulls him in instinctively. Derek lets go of Stiles after the first squeeze and light pressure of Stiles going lax against his chest. Stiles grins wryly and bounces his fist on Derek’s shoulder awkwardly, and it’s stated then: Stiles is back at pretending his feelings confession never happened. Derek thinks he’s conveying understanding – it’s okay, he’s happy they’re friends.

The day transpires a lot more cheerily after that – different than any other Christmases Derek has had, counting the ones in his childhood. Because the Hales never spent Christmas decorating a condemned loft turned yoga studio with garlands and candles, cooked an entire Christmas dinner in a tiny kitchen or by the way, used said Christmas decorated yoga studio to play dodgeball.

The dodgeball tournament turns out to be the bloodbath Derek’s yoga studio has been accustomed to lately. They have revolving team members and re-evolving teams due to small numbers, disloyalty within the ranks and frequent injuries: some sprained wrists, several head traumas, and a groin-hit that requires a long convalesce for Stiles, in fetus position on Derek’s bed upstairs.

They let him rest, but after twenty minutes Derek gets antsy and heads up the stairs.

“Are you cold?” he asks, holding the folded quilt in his hands.

Stiles looks wary and hopeful when Derek drapes it over his body, tugs his feet in and then – by the grip Stiles suddenly has of his shirt-chest – Derek lays down on the mattress so that they are face to face.

“I’m sorry I ran. I’m a coward who’s never asked someone out before.”

“You’re not. You came back. That—” I have no idea what that means, “—means a lot. I’m sorry for banning you.”

Stiles carefully grips his hand.

“The note was the most childish thing I’ve seen you do – I think I’m rubbing off on you. Message received, though.”

Derek looked at their interwoven fingers. “Can you explain to me again why you invade my privacy with Christmas cheer?”

Stiles grinned. “I had no choice. I would’ve come either way, but then I thought why sneak in like a criminal when I can do it in style? Your friends were more or less hanging on the lock already.”

“They’re not my friends,” Derek says, but the jolt he feels in his chest suggests otherwise.

“Then do you still want me to leave?”

Stiles looks at him, hopeful, and eagerly licks his lips. Derek reaches out to wipe sweat-crusted hair from his forehead, carefully minding the bruise he’s sporting. Stiles pulls him closer by the wrist, and they kiss, almost shyly.

“No,” Derek says, “but you’re on probation.”

The kisses last longer and longer, and Stiles arranges Derek’s arms around him before he throws the quilt over them both, along with a cautionary “mind the groin”. Heavy, warm fabric falls over Derek’s head, robbing him of his sight and swaddling them both in their own cave of intimacy. To keep his weight off Stiles’s sore areas proves difficult, so they roll over.

“Ready to make some new memories in this room?” Stiles makes himself comfortable on top of him, hips supported by Derek’s hands, ”I think I feel my junk recovering.”

That’s when Stiles’s head meets a projectile that smacks his forehead into the ridge of Derek’s nose. Stiles throws off the quilt and catches the red volleyball before it rolls down to the floor.

He raises it threateningly.

”Shit.” Erica ducks behind the stairs. “I was aiming for Derek!”

Stiles knees Derek in the stomach in effort to get off the bed. “Oh, it’s on, Reyes. Derek, you’re with me!”

“Coming.” Derek remains still for a moment, gazing up towards the ceiling and trying not to smile. He loses that fight.

#bewarethesmirk #stereksanta19 #*fic19 #*gifts19

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sinenominea · 4 years

Note

1~5 “But you know who Talia and Laura wouldn’t avoid? Deaton, who happened to have a young man working at his clinic who he thought was a very special young man. It was far more likely that Scott would becoming involved with the Hale family far more than Stiles ever could possibly be simply by virtue of who they are” It is canon that Peter Hale and Cora Hale despise Scott’s guts and that Scott said that the hunters had a valid reason to burn Derek’s entire pack and family - including humans and

2~5 children – alive. And it is canon that Scott McCall was just an average asthmatic teen with average/below average grades obsessed with girls, fame, lacrosse and popularity, and not the ‘very special young man’ user @princeescaluswords desperately wished he was pre-bite. Not to mention that the production explicitly said that both Stiles and the Sheriff knew about the Hale fire (Scott didn’t), that Stiles knew about Paige (Scott didn’t), that Stiles recognized Derek (Scott didn’t),

3~5 and that Stiles had a very special, unique bond/emotional connection with Peter, Cora, Derek and Malia despite not being a werewolf in the series (Scott didn’t.) Meanwhile, there’s literally nothing tying Scott to the Hales except a random bite born from insanity… so yeah: why would the Hale family ever want to become involved with human!Scott exactly? Scott’s just the average self-centered kid who scrapped the crap off animals’ cages at the vet clinic after all, nothing more.

4~5 It was far more likely that Stiles would becoming involved with the Hale family far more than Scott ever could possibly be simply by virtue of who they are to be honest. The Hales would literally avoid human!Scott like the plague.

5~5 PS: on another note though, it was very likely that human!Scott McCall would becoming romantically involved with Allison Argent anyway. Or at least try to

____

Nomi:

This is a lot.

First of all... In reference to the post this ask is about, I really don’t understand why Pew can’t understand that this is what fanfic is?? If someone wants to write an alive!HaleFamily fic where Derek and Stiles get together, of course the Hales are going to be connected to Stiles and/or the Sheriff. Why would sterek writers care if Scott is connected to them when it’s not about Scott? If a fic is primarily meant to be about a ship, then the two characters in the ship must interact. You make up a reason for them to interact. This is what we refer to as a plot. Pew has actual Lit degrees, shouldn’t he know these things? Why is he like a child that you have to tell the same thing to over and over, except he never learns? No, wait, I know. It’s because he already knows he’s wrong, and all of this is just because we don’t love Scott as much as him. I swear to Sekhmet, it makes me want to hit myself in the face with a baseball bat, honestly.

Second of all... Yeah it doesn’t really make much sense that most of the Hales would care about Scott or even know of his existence, unless you’re writing a fic where you give them a reason to. In ~canon~ I doubt Deaton would mention he’s an emissary to a werewolf pack to the random kid who works for him. I doubt Scott would even be there if Talia or Laura met with with Deaton. I mean, would they even meet at his clinic? It seemed like they preferred the warehouse place in S3, ie somewhere not public, for meetings, iirc. It actually makes more sense that Melissa might know them, if they had to bring a human pack member to the hospital or something, but why would she tell her son about that specific patient out of all the other patients she saw each day? Same with the Sheriff (I refuse to call him Noah, sorry), it makes sense for him to know members of the town. Maybe he pulled Peter over and gave him a ticket one time. Maybe someone complained of howling in the Preserve and he went to knock on the Hale’s door and ask if they heard any disturbance in the forest one time. Scott and Stiles might have both known Cora, if she’s the same age and went to school with them, though. But none of these things happened and all those what-ifs are just me coming up with canon-compliant reasons for them to interact, which... is what you do... when you need characters to interact... in a story. And now we’ve come full circle to my First of all, lol...

But otherwise it’s just speculation and, while that’s fun, it doesn’t matter and Pew is no more right in his speculation than I am because speculation isn’t canon. For real there is some kind of disconnect in that man’s brain that makes him fundamentally incapable of listening when we say fanfiction doesn’t have to follow canon. The entire concept of the Hales being alive is already not-canon, ffs, so why does it matter that the Hales know Stiles or that Derek is interested in Stiles and not Scott?

Because the entire world in every single fanfiction ever written has to revolve around Scott McCall, or else it and the people who read/wrote it are racist, right?

Okay.

(P.S. I agree human!Scott would try to date Allison still, but who knows if she’d be interested. I kinda think she has a thing for werewolves, just saying.)

#leave a message after the beep #pew and co #teen wolf discourse #Anonymous

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randomestfandoms-ocs · 4 years

Note

since u did others, can you do 1989 for your ocs?

Welcome To New York:

Daphne Dwyer - It’s a new soundtrack I could dance to this beat // The lights are so bright but they never blind me & When we first dropped our bags on apartment floors // Took our broken hearts, put them in a drawer // Everybody here was someone else before // And you can want who you want // Boys and boys and girls and girls

Blank Space:

Arianne Martin - So it's gonna be forever // Or it's gonna go down in flames // You can tell me when it's over // If the high was worth the pain

Style:

Anastasia Andrews x Jughead Jones - You’ve got that long hair slick back, white t-shirt/And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt

Amethyst Andrews x Sweet Pea - You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye/And I got that red lip, classic thing that you like/And when we go crashing down, we come back every time

Out Of The Woods:

Selena McCall x Derek Hale - But when the sun came up I was looking at you & But the monsters turned out to be just trees // When the sun came up you were looking at me

Teagan O’Neal x Nico Wayne - Remember when we couldn’t take the heat // I walked out, I said, I’m setting you free // But the monsters turned out to be just trees // When the sun came up you were looking at me

Isla George x Dean Winchester - Remember when you hit the brakes too soon // Twenty stitches in a hospital room // When you started crying baby, I did too // But when the sun came up I was looking at you

All You Had To Do Was Stay:

Fallon Parris Jones x Sweet Pea - People like you always want back the love they gave away // And people like me wanna believe you when you say you’ve changed & Stay, hey, all you had to do was stay // Had me in the palm of your hand // Then, why’d you had to go and lock me out when I let you in & People like you always want back the love they pushed aside // But people like me are gone forever when you say goodbye

Shake It Off:

Fallon Parris Jones - I go on to many dates // But I can't make them stay // At least that's what people say

I Wish You Would:

Carmen Rivera x Jackson Whittemore - I wish we could go back // And remember what we were fighting for // Wish you knew that // I miss you too much to be mad anymore

Bad Blood:

Luna Hale & Allison Argent - Band-Aids don't fix bullet holes // You say sorry just for show // You live like that, you live with ghosts

Wildest Dreams:

Ariel Blossom x Malachai - He’s so tall, and handsome as hell/He’s so bad but he does it so well/I can see the end as it begins, my one condition is/Say you’ll remember me/Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset babe

How You Get The Girl:

Amethyst Andrews x Sweet Pea - And then you say // I want you for worse or for better // I would wait for ever and ever // Broke your heart, I'll put it back together // I would wait for ever and ever

This Love:

Ryann Hernández-Viamonte x Toni Topaz, Victoria Blofis x Jason Grace, Annika Webster x Barry Allen - This love is good, this love is bad // This love is alive back from the dead // These hands had to let it go free // And this love came back to me

I Know Places:

Mia Pierce x Pietro Maximoff - I know places we can hide, I know places // They are the hunters, we are the foxes // And we run // Just grab my hand and don’t ever drop it // My love

Clean:

Arianne Martin x Brett Talbot - Ten months sober, I must admit // Just because you’re clean don’t mean you don’t miss it // Ten months older I won’t give in // Now that I’m clean I’m never gonna risk it & Rain came pouring down when I was drowning // That’s when I could finally breathe // And by morning, gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean & You’re still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can’t wear anymore // Hung my head, as I lost the war, and the sky turned black like a perfect storm

Wonderland:

Anastasia Andrews x Jughead Jones - Didn't they tell us don't rush into things // Didn't you flash your green eyes at me // Haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds

You Are In Love:

Nikki Rogers x Peter Parker - You two are dancing in a snow globe, go round and round // And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown // You understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars // And why I've spent my whole life try to put it into words

Luna Hale x Scott McCall - You keep his shirt // He keeps his word // And for once you let go // Of your fears and your ghosts

New Romantics:

Arianne Martin - We're so young // But we're on the road to ruin // We play dumb // But we know exactly what we're doing // We cry tears // Of mascara in the bathroom // Honey, life is just a classroom & Cause, baby, I could build a castle // Out of all the bricks they threw at me // And every day is like a battle // But every night with us is like a dream

Amara Caro & Percy Flowers - Baby, we’re the new romantics/Come on, come along with me/Heart break is the national anthem/We sing it proudly/We are too busy dancing/To get knocked off our feet/Baby, we’re the new romantics/The best people in life are free

Send me a song and I’ll tell you which OC(s) it fits best

#ask #answered #anon #*song association #taylor swift

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feelingsdusk-writes · 5 years

Text

Every revolution begins with a spark

Chapter 1

For a moment, Stiles can't breathe. There's a deafening ring in his ears, he can't move and darkness begins to creep in from the edges of his vision. Then he starts shaking, a wet and cold sensation filling him, and his legs give out on him, but he barely registers the pain in his knees when they impact with the ground. After a moment, he finally manages to make his body cooperate and he crawls forward, gulping air like a man would water after going way too long without it.

Then he screams.

"DAD!!!"

Everything slows down. Blake is saying something and Deucalion is speaking too, no longer blind. Melissa rushes towards his dad with Scott and Isaac in tow, but Stiles already knows there's nothing to be done. Something dark and twisted surges inside him so abruptly that he chokes on thin air.

Everything fades away suddenly.

It's the frantic screaming of his name what brings Stiles back to himself. His breath is coming in short gasps and his muscles are spasming uncontrollably. He looks around himself, trying to will his eyes into focus, and is greeted by the sight of carnage. Blood is splattered everywhere and Jennifer Blake lies on the ground dismembered, with vacant eyes and features locked in a terrified expression. Deucalion is choking on his own blood, one arm and both legs detached from his body and he's trying to crawl away.

It takes Stiles a moment to notice that everyone is looking at him horrified. Then, details start trickling into his mind: they're giving him a wide berth, Chris is pointing his gun at him, Deucalion is trying to crawl away from him, there's blood on his hands, under his nails, inside his mouth.

(Everything goes to hell quickly after that.)

---

His room is bare save for a cot, a small table and a chair, all of them bolted to the ground. He's not tied to the railings now, but he was when he first woke up. He didn't take that very well, but he learned quickly that either he calmed down or the bindings would stay. Four days ago they finally took them off.

"Mr. Stilinski, this kind of attitude won't help your case," the woman says after giving a pointed look at the tray still full of untouched food.

She's been coming here since he woke up and apart from the doctor that gave him a check up on the first day, he hasn't seen anyone else the whole week. There's not one but two guns strapped to her waist right in plain view and who knows what else she has hidden on her person. She says her name is Sarah Stratford and that she's a representative of the Tribunal.

Apparently that's a thing.

An organization to control that hunters and supernaturals alike don't get out of line. An organization that somehow missed Gerard Argent killing Deucalion's pack during a peace talk, Kate Argent burning the Hales alive, the alpha pack killing entire packs over the course of at least six years and all around the country... But they come now.

Now!

If they had intervened when Gerard Argent killed Deucalion's pack, the alpha pack wouldn't have happened to begin with, Jennifer Blake wouldn't have become a darach and thus, Stiles' dad wouldn't have been used as a human sacrifice. If they had also intervened when Kate Argent burned the Hales alive, Peter wouldn't have been left packless and then gone on a crazy rampage, Scott wouldn't have been bitten and Stiles would have never been involved with the supernatural world.

But. They. Come. Now.

"Oh," Stiles answers sweetly, giving her a smile so sugary that it can't be anything but fake. He turns on his bed from his stubborn staring at the wall to look at her fully. "So eating will help my case, hmm? Everything will be better if I eat then? Eating will get me out of this cell?"

"It's not a cell, Mr. Stilinski," she cajoles calmly. "The moment-"

"Will it make me human again?" Stiles barrels on, ignoring her completely. "WILL IT GIVE ME MY DAD BACK?" he finally shouts, grabbing the tray and throwing it at her. She deftly dodges it, seemingly unfazed by his outburst and he wants to scream in frustration. There are claws in his balled hands, biting into his own skin, and his canines feel a little sharper in his mouth. He forces them to disappear ruthlessly. "WILL IT?!"

"Of course not," she answers matter-of-factly and Stiles lets out a choking noise, his whole frame shaking. "At this point, since we've already established that you can control your shift in strenuous situations, eating, Mr. Stilinski, will simply let us ensure you're healthy enough to be able to attend your father's funeral."

Stiles hates her.

He hates everything, everyone, himself.

(He eats.)

---

"Don't touch me," he snarls quietly when any of them tries to approach him at the funeral.

He doesn't own a suit. Stratford said that the Tribunal could get him one but just the thought of accepting any help from them makes his stomach turn, so he glared at her until she stopped bringing it up. She brought from his house an all black outfit from his own clothes instead and Stiles had to force down a snarl. He had to remind himself that he wouldn't forgive himself if he missed his dad's funeral so he could swallow down his anger at the thought of her or anyone else going through his home, his things, and just put them on.

Stiles hates, he hates so damn much. He hates the Tribunal for their incompetence when it counted and for their competence now that it doesn't. He hates Scott and Allison for concentrating on their own parents and not on everyone, leaving his dad to die. He hates Isaac for being there doing nothing but save his own skin. He hates Melissa and Chris for, each in their own way, having the skills to help his dad and not using them. He hates Derek for being an idiot that let himself be fooled again. He hates himself for not being enough, for being too slow and too weak, for his horrible luck. He hates his dad for not sticking to his damn diet, which caused his heart to be unable to stand what Jennifer Blake piled on him. He hates, hates and hates and hates. And so, hatred burns and burns inside of him like red hot lava to the point that nausea has lodged firmly at the back of his throat and he feels physically sick constantly.

And so, as they lower his father's coffin, Stiles just... hates.

(Somehow it feels as if they're burying Stiles along with his dad in that grave.)

---

As far as he can remember, Stiles has never met any of his relatives on his mother's side. He had always assumed that they were all dead like on his father's side, especially since no one but his mother's friends showed at her funeral, but it turns out they weren't. The Tribunal tracks them down easily to Modesto, of all places, and then gets in contact with his grandparents.

They come to the center where they're keeping Stiles, Eichen House, with sour expressions that only turn darker the more time they spend inside. It doesn't take Stiles more than two minutes with them to start suspecting why his parents may have cut all ties with them and that's even before Stratford starts testing the waters about his new special needs without outright revealing everything. After the third time they cross themselves she desists and just tells them they will keep an eye on Stiles for a while to make sure the transition is smooth, but he knows it's too late when his grandfather promises to straighten him out with good old fashioned discipline.

Then, his uncle and two cousins, all of them lawyers, show up and things get even worse, if that was even possible.

"You're not selling my house," Stiles states, tone flat because he's so angry that he can't shout. "You have no right."

"Listen, kid, family or not, we're neither rich nor a charity. If we're going to be saddled with you, you're going to have to help..."

"Then leave."

"Now you listen-"

"No, you listen to me. I know what my dad's will says and you can't touch the house or the money. Everything gets frozen until I become an adult in the eyes of the law-"

"Such a stupid little kid. You think there will be anything left to be frozen after settling all the debts?"

"Debts? If you think you can fool-"

"Your house has a double mortgage and Claudia's hospital debts haven't been fully paid yet. You're lucky your friend here," he nods towards Stratford, whom remains emotionless and seemingly unaffected by the proceedings, "took care of the costs of your father's funeral or it would have been even worse. Doing things right, the best we can do is settle about eighty percent of it, ninety if the house sells well. The rest of it will have to come out of our own pockets so you better start being more grateful, brat."

They sell the house.

They sell everything.

They camp in his house (he doesn't have the heart to call it his home anymore) for a week while they manage everything. Stiles has to bite his tongue as his grandparents sleep in his dad's room, as his uncle takes his own room and his cousins the guest room, leaving him to sleep on the couch. Part of him wants to scream when they eat everything in the fridge, including the healthy veggie lasagne he had prepared for his dad.

Then what little that was left alive inside himself after the funeral dies as they go through everything in the house as if it's garbage. They even go so far as to organize a yard sale to get rid of all of it and what cannot be sold, they don't even bother donating and throw it to the trash. Stiles' possessions get reduced to two changes of clothes and an ugly ten thousand piece puzzle they let him keep to entertain himself. He hides his dad's wallet and badge, three family pictures he managed to secret away when they weren't looking and a memory stick with the Argent' bestiary inside its box.

He tries to save his childhood teddy bear and quilt (both of which had been crocheted by his mom when she was pregnant) too but fails. They tell him that he needs to grow up, that he isn't a child anymore, as they take them from him. They're already sold and gone when he finds a window to try again.

In the end, the remnants of Stiles' life up until now fit inside a backpack.

(He doesn't hate anymore, he just feels numb.)

---

The trip back to Modesto is as miserable as his newly found family is turning out to be.

It turns out they drove here from Modesto together and, for a moment, Stiles feels panic clawing at his throat at the prospect of six people squeezed for more than three hours in a tiny old car whose bumper has been kept in place with tape -Stiles saw it by chance when his wallet fell underneath and he really wishes that he didn't know about it right now-. It sounds rich coming from him with the state his (no longer his, Stiles, do keep up) jeep was in, but the car really looks like it could be broken by sneezing too hard at it. He swallows nervously, hands trembling and hurriedly mutters something about the restroom. There, he forces himself to breathe and count until he wrestles himself back in control.

The whole ride is an exercise in self-control. For starters, the combined smell of their cheap colognes and deodorants keeps him nauseated for the entire duration of it, burning his sensitive nose. More over, they only stop for gas once and they don't even let him out of the car. They refuse to buy a bottle of water when he asks for it, mouth parched and almost dizzy from the heat because the air conditioning of the deathtrap they call a car is broken and they won't let him open the windows because one of his cousins is starting to come down with something and he should be in bed instead of having to traipse down to a podunk town in the middle of nowhere. They also scoff and answer his request contemptuously, as if they find absurd to an insulting degree the thought of paying for water and what a comfortable life he must have led if he could waste money like that, but then again, maybe that's why he has nothing now.

Needless to say, he doesn't ask for anything again.

It was late when they left Beacon Hills because they refused to disturb their lives any more than the strictly necessary (which Stiles thought was complete bullshit, they just didn't want to pay for a hotel room now that they couldn't stay for free at Stiles' former house), so it's completely dark when they pull into the drive of a very nice looking house, in an equally nice and very green neighbourhood. Parting from what he has found about his family, Stiles is momentarily surprised, but it only lasts until they usher him in as if he's a dirty little secret they want to keep hidden. Then he's faced with the house version of the car, which means old, shabby and patched everywhere to look nicer than it really is.

He learns eight people live in the house (his grandparents, two uncles, an aunt (by marriage) and three cousins) on the way towards his bedroom. His uncle points towards a door and then leaves unceremoniously. Inside there's a tiny room with a mattress directly on the wooden floor and right against a wall, with a blanket folded on top of it. And that's it. However, it's not like anything else would fit inside anyways, because there's about two feet of free space at the left of the mattress and three feet at the end of it.

Stiles breathes and counts, hugging his backpack to himself. When no one comes looking for him after a while, he forces himself to let go of it and search for them, even though he wants nothing less than to see them. He's not hungry, but he's really thirsty. He finds out that everyone has gone to bed already from his pajama clad aunt, who ushers him back to his room without letting him get a word out.

He sits on his bed and looks around, feeling empty in so many ways.

He breathes and counts, again and again.

(He doesn't sleep that night.)

(He shoves everything that remains of himself deep, deep down and then locks it away.)

---

Over the first two weeks, he learns even more about his family even though they ignore him unless it's absolutely necessary. They say first impressions can be deceiving and that's a truth as big as the universe. He thought that maybe they were that way because poverty molds people and leaves scars that will never go away, but he was wrong. They're not poor, they don't lack resources, they're just greedy, selfish and tightfisted. They're also petty, narrow minded, snobbish, egotistical and just plain mean. And the funniest of it all? They go to extreme lengths to make it look like they aren't.

Their car looks like a vintage lover's wet dream and they go as far as to clean it behind closed doors to make it appear as if they have hired someone to do it. Their lawn is perfectly taken care off and looks as if a professional had designed it. Outwardly, the house looks as if it has been completely renovated, but inside, excepting the entrance or anything that can be seen from the outside, is shabby and patched everywhere.

They gossip about everyone but make it look like it's beneath them. They act as if they're liberal and accepting but then, for example, they insult their trans neighbour and call her everything under the sun and subtly try to edge everyone in the neighbourhood against her to force her to leave. Stiles saw them give a pittance to a homeless man and then note the exact amount to deduct it from their budget.

Everyone around loves them.

(Stiles would be impressed in a disgusted kind of way, but he's too tired and unable to feel anything, not even revulsion.)

---

From the very first day, his family piles a lot of rules and chores on him because he has to earn his upkeep, and then proceeds to generally ignore his presence in the house unless absolutely necessary. Apart from keeping good grades and being well behaved at the public school they've enrolled him in, he's to clean, do the laundry, cook and buy the groceries. Even though they are nitpicky as hell and nothing can be thrown out (it has to be reused until it falls apart and can't be put together again), he has no problems with the first five, to be honest, because it's not like it's any different from what he used to do back when he had a home in Beacon Hills. The last though? It's horrible and it gives him nightmares when he actually gets any sleep.

(The halfway completed puzzle under his mattress is enough testament of that.)

For some reason the grocery shopping has to be an almost daily thing, even though the store is quite far away and it just doesn't make any sense to waste the time and resources to go there every day. With how obsessed they are with being frugal in everything they do, he's really surprised by this, but maybe it's a new thing now that Stiles is there to do it for them. Who knows? In any case, from Monday to Friday he has to walk to the store and then back carrying the bags.

Up to that point it would only be annoying and time consuming, which Stiles could bear with easily because it's not like he has anything better to do or as if he likes staying in the house, but the problem is the budget. They give him a whopping two hundred dollars a week to shop for nine people. And again, Stiles is resourceful and a really good cook, he could make it work somehow, but they give him a list. They give him a damn list of the things he needs to buy apart from the actual food and Stiles has to manage to get it all with the ridiculous budget he has.

The first time he goes to the store he does his best to find sales and cheapen his shopping to the bare minimum, well aware that with less than thirty dollars for each day of the week he's not going to go too far, but in the end he can't buy two of the things on the list. His grandfather is silently furious and sends him to bed without dinner. Stiles learns quickly that that's going to be a thing and debates whether he should carry some of the money he has secreted in his dad's wallet or not, but decides that it wouldn't help him in the long run. In the end, he does take some money, but it is to buy himself some power bars that he hides in his backpack along a bottle of water that he refills every day at school.

After that he learns quickly. He doesn't always have a list, so he saves every cent he can for the days he does. Hearty vegetarian stews and soups become his friends, along with a lot of tricks that he learns as he goes, such as buying food that is about to expire because it has the best prices and secretly making his own detergent to fill the box and tricking his family into believing he's still buying it. There's no escaping fasting on Fridays though, because no matter how much he's able to save throughout out the week, it's impossible to shop enough for three days with what remains and to complete the list too. So he makes it as far as he can with what he has (because if he doesn't it will only be piled on the next list), not touching what he may had saved throughout the week and leaving it for Monday when he knows he will need it.

It's a nightmare and after those two weeks, Stiles is horrified to discover that he's becoming as miserable as they are when he battles ruthlessly with an old lady for the last of the peppers on sale and he's just relieved when she almost falls and she has to let go.

(He needs to leave.)

---

Over the next two weeks, he prepares to escape and thinks about how to leave the house with his things without anyone noticing. His best idea is to simply leave for the groceries and not come back, because his grandfather is a very light sleeper who will notice him sneaking out at night and that would be a disaster. Besides that, he has to be careful about the Tribunal. No one has come to check on him and he hasn't noticed anyone keeping an eye on him, but that doesn't mean there's really no one, so it's better to be safe than sorry.

There's only two things he can do for now, though. The first is to start using his backpack to carry the groceries back so that seeing him taking it with him isn't such a strange sight, and the second thing he can do is to somehow learn the bus' schedule to time it so that when he leaves, he doesn't have to risk waiting at the station. He downright hates leaving the puzzle box behind right in plain view and can't breathe easily until he comes back to the house, but there's no going around it.

All in all, it's nerve wracking and he wishes he had more control over the situation, but he'll take what he can at this point and be grateful.

Or maybe that's not so true... All things considered, there is a third thing he can do actually, and he's going to make it epic, especially since he knows that they will call the police and claim he has stolen something from them or something like that.

When he finally leaves, they do call the police. Stiles knows it because it makes the news the very next day after his disappearance. As the week progresses, Stiles goes from being a problem teenager to a possibly mistreated one when the police finally put the puzzle under his mattress back together and find the message he had left behind along with the two hundred dollar bills he had cut to fit and glued to the back of the puzzle pieces. They try to cajole him into letting himself be found but, no matter the reassurances, nothing will make him do that.

(He's never letting anyone have that kind of power over him ever again.)

---

The first days are the worst. He can't find a secure enough place to sleep on the streets and he can't afford to pay for a room because he has to save everything he has for food. And he has to be frugal in that aspect too, because he can't get a job in his circumstances. He jumps at every noise, he's suspicious of everyone and, to get as far as he can from Modesto, he's constantly on the move, keeping out of sight as much as possible. So, all in all, he's tired, hungry, paranoid, afraid and disheartened too, because it looks like that's not going to ever change and he'll be like this always.

(Or at least until he becomes eighteen and he can finally stop hiding in any case. And that's way too far away in time to be of any consolation at the moment.)

Also, now that he has to actively use everything he has at hand to keep himself safe, Stiles can't ignore what absorbing a nogitsune did to him and part of him hates it, even if he sees its usefulness at the same time.

Apart from the improved sense of smell and the ability to grow fangs and claws, he's stronger than he used to be and he heals faster. Not extremely so on both counts, but more than enough to notice a difference if he needs to engage in a fight, which he can't help but be grateful for. He's also much faster and his reflexes are better, which do wonders to avoid said fights, which is even better than being stronger, in his very humble opinion. Finally, there are the things he can modulate at will and that he still has to get the hang of: his hearing and his night vision. Again, really useful, but there are drawbacks to those, because with the control he has of his hearing now, it's all or nothing, so if someone makes a really loud noise when he's tuning in, it really hurts him and leaves him momentarily disoriented. Similarly, if he uses his night vision his eyes glow green, which is not inconspicuous at all.

And so he learns as he goes, using everything at his disposal to keep himself safe, and before he notices, he's regained his footing and making do with what life deals him. And sometimes even coming on top.

(It has been a long time since that happened.)

---

Grief comes back to punch Stiles in the gut unexpectedly and leaves him reeling.

When his dad died he went through the stages so ridiculously fast that it was laughable. At the cellar, he went through denial, anger and bargaining in one swift move before going back to the anger and settling comfortably there for a little while. Then he went numb just as he moved to Modesto, which he supposes accounts for depression, and at one point, he simply accepted at the back of his mind and moved on to concentrate on being safe.

Except something must have gone wrong.

Stiles is in a convenience store in the middle of the night when an armed idiot tries to rob it... and him because he's there, so why the hell not? He doesn't care about the money, but the family pictures are inside his backpack and the robber takes his dad's wallet and badge from his pocket too. Before he can even make it out of the store Stiles has reduced him unconscious with a well aimed coke can to the head that bursts upon impact, spraying everywhere. He slips out just as the clerk is calling the police, hightailing the hell out of there as fast as he can. Then he proceeds to sob his heart out clutching his dad's badge to his chest in a dark alley and somehow goes through the first four stages again in an hour before finally embracing that acceptance will take some time to fully and truly set in.

(And that's totally fine.)

---

Apparently, the security video of a blurry him nearly braining that robber with the exploding can of coke has gone viral after making it to the news and put the Tribunal back on his tail. Or that's Stiles' best guess, in any case, because suddenly he can't seem to stop running into them.

The first time, in Bakersfield, one of them corners him at night, when he's trying to find some place secluded to sleep. She's really nice about it, he supposes, because she never points a gun at him, even if she keeps a respectable distance and a sensibly wary attitude, which he reluctantly approves of. Nevertheless, he gives her (Loren Anderson, she says her name is) the slip the moment a window opens and leaves Bakersfield that very same night.

The second time, about a week later in Lancaster, Anderson has company but they're equally nice about it. Stiles refuses to go and they try to cajole him (isn't he tired of running, of having to hide?) but he's having none of it. He loses them at the mall and leaves Lancaster ten minutes later by bus.

The third time, in Victorville and again at a park at night, he runs before they can even reach him. The first two times he was very cautious about not showing his supernatural abilities, but this time the two women accompanying Anderson do have guns even if she herself doesn't, so he's not willing to risk it and he pushes himself to leave them behind. Again, he leaves Victorville as fast as his legs can carry him.

After nearly getting caught three times in less than three weeks, Stiles decides it's time to get out of California. He's more than fed up with having to look over his shoulder constantly when he had finally found his footing, so it's time to put more distance between them even if the thought of moving out of his comfort zone is a little terrifying.

However, he only makes it as far as Hesperia before they catch up with him again. They hold him at gun point, which makes him not care one bit about Anderson's reassurances or how kind she's trying to be about the whole thing. No, he isn't tired of running or hiding; No, he doesn't want a family or a place to stay. Thanks so much for offering but he wants to leave, like right now. And leave he does, but only by a hair's breadth and because they're trying to avoid hurting him.

He manages to lay low for a week before he gets caught again, officially the fifth time, when they corner him near a Walgreens with their guns out, but hidden enough to be missed. Stiles regrets so damn much not having thought of leaving by the second time this happened.

"Can it," he finally snaps to the reassurances Anderson keeps spewing. "I'm being held at gun point by two people right now, including yourself, so don't you tell me you're making things better for me when you've already made them ten times worse."

"I tried to do things right, kid, and you didn't-"

Stiles will never know what she would have said because he does the stupidest thing he's ever done and just turns to sprint into the store, counting on the fact that they don't want to hurt him or draw attention to themselves. He breathes relieved when he finds the store packed with people and he can blend in.

There are two hunters after him but Stiles would bet his ass that one of them is waiting outside in case he slips out, which means that he has to go for the oldest trick in the book and get everyone to leave en masse so he can escape.

He tries to locate the fire alarm as he goes through one of the aisles, cap firmly in place to cover his face. He grabs a pair of scissors and a pen, and then goes to the kids section, trying to find plastic balls that he can use instead of the ping pong balls he would really need to make his smoke bombs. What he finds is table tennis balls (which he had never heard of but whatever) that will suit him just fine. Now he only needs tin foil and he's set.

He spies Anderson turning at the corner and he hurries to hide and go right in the opposite direction. As he passes one of the aisles, he finds an unattended shopping cart with a hoodie perched on the handle. With a mental apology, he snatches it and puts it on to throw Anderson off. As he hurries he tries to find a corner where he can prepare the smoke bomb without being noticed. All the while, he also tries to walk on the blind spots he guesses the cameras to have when he does something suspicious, so he won't have the police after him when this whole ordeal is over.

Finally, he manages to open holes on three of the balls and to stuff them with the pieces of the other three. He hides them as a family passes him, feigning looking at some cologne bottles and then hurries towards another aisle when he spies Anderson again. It takes him another nerve wracking five minutes to prepare the tin foil tube with the help of the pen. He chooses one of the areas that he's really sure is a blind spot but is also decently filled with people to light it up. And just in time too, because Anderson sneaks up on him and grabs his arm in a vice grip.

Then the smoke starts coming from where he's hidden the bomb under the shelves and someone pulls on the fire alarm screaming. In the confusion, Anderson gets pushed to the ground, the contents of her pockets spilling out and the gun she has in the holster left in plain view. People scream even more and two men throw themselves at her to restrain her. Stiles grabs her car keys and wallet from the ground as he rushes by and hides himself in a big group that is trying to get outside. Then he runs towards the SUV, the other woman nowhere in sight, and drives the hell out of there.

He reaches Baker an hour and a half later and, after parking, he searches the car thoroughly for anything that can be useful. He finds two bags full of clothes that are way too small for him, another bag filled with quite the amount of non perishable food (obviously an emergency stash) that he grabs greedily and some first aid supplies that he stashes inside his own backpack. And most importantly, he finds money hidden under the driver's seat to add to what's in Anderson's wallet. More than three hundred glorious dollars that couldn't come at a better time because his funds are almost gone with all the buses he's been forced to take as of late.

He considers driving to Las Vegas in the SUV but decides against it because by now the problem he created at Walgreens is probably solved if the Tribunal has the pull he thinks it has, and they probably have reported it stolen. Or if any of that hasn't happened yet, it will soon and he can't risk it despite how tempting it is. So he ditches the car and grabs a bus to Las Vegas instead. And when he gets there another hour and a half later, he doesn't even wait and gets another to Phoenix.

(And he doesn't stop moving again for a long while.)

---

When Stiles was a kid, he used to stay at Scott's house when his dad had to go out of Beacon Hills for more than a day. They would make forts in the living room and then imagine epic battles against invincible enemies that looked doomed to be lost but that they managed to win by a hair's breadth in the end every single time. Whenever they played this game, Scott would insist on calling their headquarters Fort Scott (located also in Scott city), and Stiles would argue it was lame, that they should call it something cool like the Infinite Bastion, the Defense Alliance Headquarters, the Justice Assembly or the Commanding Forces Fort, for example, but to no avail.

It turns out that in Kansas there's a Scott County... with its Scott city, of course. His face when he saw the sign after passing through Wichita must have been a sight, that's for sure, but not as epic as when he learned that there's an actual Fort Scott in Bourbon County, also in Kansas but almost at the other end of the state. And never mind the Scott County in Minnesota that he finds in the map after a very nice old lady gives him one.

(He should have know something was going to go wrong, that it was some kind of sign of impeding doom or something. Shame on him.)

Stiles has left the river he was following but is still going through the countryside, trying to avoid being spotted because even if he hasn't had any encounters with the Tribunal since the Walgreens stunt, he still wants to put more land between them before he dares more populated areas. It's dark but clear, the moon full in the sky, and he's crossing a field when he hears it. At first he thinks it's his imagination playing tricks on him after so much time alone, because there's no way a baby is in the middle of nowhere, Kansas, crying at night. It's impossible.

But then he hears it again, loud and clear. And Stiles is an asshole and he almost can't take care of himself nowadays, but it's a baby, a distressed baby crying in the middle of nowhere and it's really cold outside today, so he runs forward towards where he thinks the noise is coming from.

Except what he finds is most certainly not a baby.

"WHAT THE F-" he can't help but shout at the sight of a scarecrow-like creature mounted in a cart pulled by black cats. The image is too strange for his brain to process.

It turns to look at him and Stiles feels rooted in place, terror invading him. Then he hears the cries of the actual children the creature was targeting, shakes himself out of the trance and springs into action. He runs forward, feeling the chill that was seeping into his bones disappear the further he moves from the creature, grabs the two kids as he passes them and just runs. The screams the creature emits are terrifying but just push him to go faster and faster instead of paralyzing him like it probably intends.

"TO THE LEFT!" one of the kids in his arms shouts and Stiles ducks thinking an attack is coming that way. "NO! OUR HOUSE IS TO THE LEFT!"

And so Stiles goes that way, praying that it isn't too far, because he may be stronger and faster now, but he's carrying two kids in his arms and he can't last forever. Thankfully, the house comes into view not long after and he pushes himself to go faster, still hearing the creature screaming shrilly right behind him.

"MAMA, MAMA, MAMA!" the same kid screams again at the top of his lungs. "MAMA!!!"

With his nocturnal vision Stiles can see the front door open not long after and people spill out the house, obviously searching for the threat, which is the worst thing they can do right now, even if they are supernaturals like he suspects.

"GET INSIDE!!" he screams panicky. "GOGOGO!!! INSIDE NOW!!! NOW!!!"

"MAMA!!!" the kid cries terrified when she looks behind and sees the creature gaining ground as Stiles tires out.

"INSIDE!" Stiles screams again.

After a slight hesitation they obey and Stiles wants to cry in relief. He puts another burst of speed, feeling his lungs and his muscles burn in protest but ignoring them, and eats the distance to the house rapidly. He almost trips as he climbs the front steps but a woman grabs him with surprising strength and pulls him towards the safety of the house.

"CLOSE THE DOOR!" he shouts as they all cross the threshold. "NOWNOWNOW!"

Stiles falls to the wooden floor, clutching at the kids as he stares at the rattling door. He's shaking violently and letting out a stream of oh my god and what the fuck in between his gasps for air and one of the kids is crying and trembling as she holds onto him equally tight. The rest of the family have their guns out and they are in between Stiles and the door, but time passes and nothing comes in. Then the same sound of a baby crying starts again and he shivers in horror.

"NO! DON'T!" Stiles exclaims when they seem to be about to go outside in search for it. "It's that thing, it makes that sound to lure you to it," he explains when they look at him outraged.

"It's true, mom," the kid hiccups in between her sobs. "We heard it and went looking and now Emily..."

"Something happened to Emily?!"

It turns out Emily is the other girl in Stiles' arms. The girl that hasn't even uttered a sound or moved since Stiles picked her up and ran. He turns her around carefully, feeling dread pooling in his stomach, and the little girl, who is starting vacantly ahead, doesn't even react.

"Emily? EMILY!!!" the woman screams as she takes the girl into her arms, caressing her cheeks and her hair, trying to make her respond. She turns enraged towards Stiles when it fails. "What did you do to her?!"

"No, mom! He saved us from that thing!" the kid protests.

"What thing?!"

"The scarecrow!"

"Scarec- Anna, please, your sister-"

"Do you have a computer?" Stiles interrupts hastily.

"What?"

"A computer," he repeats ignoring the incredulous looks of everyone present. "I have a bestiary but I need a computer to access it. Give me a computer so we can see what we can do to help her."

"Jonathan, bring your laptop," an older woman orders to a frightened looking teenager and he runs out, presumably in search of it.

The kid has already turned it on by the time he comes back and only has to input his password. The moment he can, Stiles plugs in his memory stick and simply types scarecrow as the keyword to find in the document. Luckily only one creature matches the description (the cart pulled by black cats is a dead on descriptor) and in no time he has it identified. It's a bubak, and he has precisely until the sun comes out to get Emily's soul back from it or she'll be an empty shell for the rest of her life. Apart from that, there's nothing there about how to actually accomplish that, so he quickly searches the Internet for more information, his fingers typing impossibly fast. He finds none but doesn't let that dishearten him and reads everything he finds about the equivalents to a bubak in all the cultures around the world.

"Did you find anything?" the older woman asks grimly but calmly. In the background the mother is almost silently crying as the dad holds onto Emily too. The teen and an older man are holding Anna as she cries, trying to calm her down, and a pale looking middle-aged man is holding a whimpering baby between his arms. "Can we do anything to help?"

"What are you?" Stiles asks bluntly, a ridiculous and very risky plan already forming in his head.

"Werewolves," she answers simply, to everyone's surprise.

"So you are fast too. Ok, cool." Stiles nods. "I think we need to lure it into the river and drown it, but I'm not sure if it will work at all. There's almost no information at all, sorry. I just-"

"We'll take any chance we have at this point," the dad points out, making a visible effort to calm himself as he incorporates. "How do we do this?"

"I-I," Stiles stutters for a moment, thrown off because he always has to fight to be heard. Then he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Ok. Ok, this is how we do this."

The kids stay behind with the middle aged man and the mom. She will keep her phone with her in case Emily has to be brought to the river for her soul to go back into her body or something like that and he will take care of the kids. The rest slip outside the house from the back door and then run.

(Stiles almost drowns that night.)

They stealthily approach the little clearing where the thing has settled and Stiles can see the wolves' horrified expressions at the sight. He makes a signal and they nod grimly. The dad steps into the clearing, drawing the attention of the bubak as he does so, and then runs as fast as he can out of there. It follows him and Stiles and the rest go right behind, struggling to keep up.

Something is wrong, Stiles thinks as it rapidly gains ground no matter how much the dad pushes himself. With a sprint, he pushes himself forward shouting at the bubak to get it to come after himself instead. As it turns towards Stiles, he spies the dad slipping away with a grateful look. Stiles takes off again, pushing himself as far as he can and trying to look past his exhaustion at this point. When it looks like it will get him, the wolves intervene to let him get a respite and gain some distance between them.

It's soon very clear to him, though, that the bubak seems to prefer his soul over any others because presented with the option of pursuing Stiles or one of the wolves, it always goes after him in the end. So with that in mind, when the time comes and they can't seem to find a way to drown it, Stiles does the most sensible (and stupid at the same time) thing and jumps into the river, shouting at the others to stay hidden. Sure enough, the bubak can't resist the temptation and follows him in.

Stiles tries to swim to the other riverbank but by now he's exhausted, which makes him slow enough for it to grab him as it gets pulled under by the currents. He can't shake the bubak off no matter how hard he tries. He squirms and hits it as darkness starts to close on him but it won't let go.

The next thing he knows it that he's coughing water onto the ground, shaken by full body tremors, as the old man helps him to not choke on his own tongue. There are also countless incorporeal beings around them, whose only clear features are the clothes they are wearing. Stiles has the clear impression that they are being grounded by them.

"Bring her here," he coughs out after a moment. "Quick, it's almost sunrise."

When the mom finally arrives with Emily in her arms, Stiles starts helping the incorporeal beings take off the clothes the bubak wove for them, to the werewolves' astonishment, because they can't see them at all. All of the souls disappear except for one and suddenly the mom has a wailing toddler in her arms.

"I'm Thomas," the dad says after they all have calmed down. "This is my wife, Linda, my father David and my mother in law, Margaret."

"Stiles," he sighs as he waves from where he has let himself fall unceremoniously to the ground. "Er, nice to meet you, I guess?"

"Very nice to meet you," Margaret assures him warmly, coming near to give him an awkward half-hug, and the rest nod tiredly. "Although you could use a shower, kid."

He really, really could.

(It's telling that the prospect of a long hot shower after all this time makes him tear up.)

---

He ends up staying for a while.

His initial plan was to take that shower and then find somewhere to sleep, because he was veritably dead on his feet. Linda insisted on him staying at least the night and he point-blank refused, but then Margaret pointed out that he was so exhausted that he wouldn't notice any threat that approached him and he had to reluctantly relent. Then, the next day Margaret convinced him again to stay just in case Emily's health took a turn for the worse, because he had been the only one to be able to see the souls (or whatever it was that the bubak took) when they were out of the bodies. Then it was Emily, Anna and Jonathan who begged him to not leave (just for a day, please?) and he didn't have the heart to refuse the puppy eyes, and the next day Charles wanted to know if he would share some knowledge about this or that creature and could he hold the baby for a moment, please? And the next day David and Thomas...

At that point, because Stiles wasn't stupid, he was already suspecting something was going on and his bet was on the Tribunal having made the Collinses stall him so that they could catch him. So, after almost a week in the house, he picked up his things and just left at the very first opportunity that presented itself. David and Thomas caught him just as he was about to reach the edge of the property and Stiles snapped at them angrily. What followed was a very enlightening conversation that cleared up a lot of things.

Apparently, they just liked Stiles. As in a lot.

(What.)

They didn't know the Tribunal was searching for him, but they did suspect he was in some kind of trouble because of the way he acted. And they wanted to help him because they weren't stupid either and they knew he could have run the other way instead of saving the kids from the bubak or left afterwards, when they found out something was wrong with Emily. Instead, he nearly died both times for complete strangers. They would have helped him just out of obligation in any case, but the thing is that they actually liked Stiles a lot. They liked how he carefully held baby Daniel, how he played with the shy Emily, how he listened patiently to the hyperactive Anna, how he treated the insecure Jonathan, how he helped Charles when he was overwhelmed, how he cooked with Linda and made her laugh, how he bantered with Margaret, how he accompanied David when he went fishing and no one else wanted to, how he assisted Thomas when he needed it and many more reasons. They wanted him to stay because they liked Stiles a lot.

(Just.)

(What.)

To make a long story short, it's been nearly four weeks now and he has stopped sleeping on the couch because he has his own room and he's been somehow integrated in the chore rooster and, more generally, their lives.

(Stiles is almost completely sure it's Margaret's fault because she got everyone into the plan of making him stay. That woman is way too smart and sneaky for Stiles' own good, but he can't help but like her for it.)

"Stiles?" Emily murmurs from the top of his left shoulder, her arms tightening minutely where they are holding onto his neck when he hitches her up to a more secure position on his back.

"Mmm?" he hums softly and when she doesn't seem to get the courage to speak he continues on, vaguely remembering that she's been eyeing one particular store. "The colouring book?"

"I finished the other already," she nods shyly and he nods back.

"Ok. We still have time before we have to pick up Anna and Jonathan from practice, so let's go take a look and see if you find anything you like."

After all that's happened, Stiles feels a little trapped inside stores and it's no different this time. If anything, it's made worse by Emily's presence, because it means that if he gets cornered he can't just beat it, because that would mean leaving the nearly six year old alone. He's not about to pressure the poor girl though, so he bears it with as much grace as he can, his eyes darting around looking for threats when she's not looking.

But, as he's come to find over the last few weeks, Emily is a very perceptive child, so after a couple of minutes staring indecisively at the picture books, she nervously looks at him, grabs the first at hand and shows it to Stiles with a nod.

It takes everything he has to not laugh out utterly charmed, because it's obvious she hasn't looked at it at all and she'll be horrified when she does. There are clowns in its cover and she positively hates them. The thing though, is that she'll force herself to finish it because she won't want to hurt Stiles' feelings.

Stiles bites his inner cheek to contain his mirth and then reaches to take one that has all sorts of animals depicted on it. It's bigger and more expensive, but he figures that she deserves the treat for being such an adorable cutie.

"What about this one?" he asks as he takes the one in her hands and replaces it with the bigger one. Her eyes widen comically when she catches sight of the clowns and Stiles has to bite his cheek again. "It even has koalas, look."

"But mama said..." she reluctantly starts to protest, her eyes going back nervously to the clowns.

"My treat," he smiles. "It's a present."

"But it's not my birthday?"

"It's an unbirthday present. Just because I like you a lot." She blushes like a tomato and hugs his legs tightly. Stiles finally laughs and, after leaving the clown picture book back in the rack, he hoists her up onto his hip and turns her to look at the other picture books. "So, this one? Because that one has kittens too."

"This one," she answers without even looking, hugging him tight, and he smiles fondly.

Stiles does breathe easier when they leave the store, but decides it was totally worth it when Emily happily shows the picture book to Anna as if Stiles has given her the greatest thing in the word. For a moment he thinks that he should have gotten something for Anna too, because she might feel left out, but she only grins and hugs Stiles before launching into an explanation (physical demonstrations included) of what she has done in ballet practice today.

(She loves ballet but wanted to learn karate too. Since she can't control her strength yet she can't, but apparently it's ok because she already knows how to punch idiots and with ballet she can learn to do it looking like a princess at the same time.)

(She's going to grow up terrifying.)

The only hitch of the day comes when they pick up Jonathan and find him being harassed by some jocks. They end up having to run back to the car, fleeing the scene of the crime, so to speak. Anna is cackling delighted, Emily is giggling (even though she doesn't understand exactly what happened) and Jonathan is looking awestruck. Stiles sighs, gets ice cream for all of them and proceeds to give them his 101 of dealing with bullies.

When Jonathan comes back from school the next day, he hugs Stiles and doesn't let go for several minutes, to the general confusion of the adults. Anna squeals happily when she sees it and starts doing pirouettes around the kitchen table before joining in the hug and Emily, after blinking confused for a moment, joins in too. Stiles can't stop laughing.

(Stiles hasn't felt this happy for a long time.)

---

Life with the Collinses, Stiles has come to find out, is peaceful and uncomplicated and it's nice to be able to relax for a change.

He helps around the house with the chores (though it took a lot for Linda to let him) and babysits the kids, including Charles' baby, which he's extremely grateful for because now he has actual time to work from home at normal hours while before he had to squeeze it in whenever he could. Also, more importantly, he also trains with them, which has helped him heaps to control the abilities the nogitsune left him.

"Stileeeesss," Anna whines, "I wanna play."

"But you still haven't finished your homework. You know the rules, hun," he counters.

"But I wanna play," she whines again and pouts. "Math sucks."

"I wanna play too," Emily pleads in, turning the puppy eyes on him, and Stiles inwardly groans. Jonathan coughs suspiciously and he throws a dirty look at him. "Please?"

"Here's the deal, ok?" Stiles starts. "How about you finish colouring the picture you were doing for your mom? I'm sure she'll love receiving it when she comes home tired from work! Don't you think so?" Emily nods after a brief moment of consideration and picks up the crayon again. Stiles sighs inwardly in relief and turns towards Anna as he hastily stops Daniel from crawling under the table. He bounces the giggling baby as he talks. "And how about I help you with Math? That way you'll finish faster. Then we can play and your mom and dad won't ground you for not finishing homework. Mmm? How about that?"

"Ok," she pouts adorably and brings her Math assignment near Stiles.

"Nice save," Jonathan snickers softly and when Stiles flips him the bird covertly, he guffaws. "You can help me with Math too, if you want?"

Stiles rolls his eyes and points out the way to resolve the problem the teen is working on. Jonathan blinks surprised and then grins, bringing his own assignment near too. Half an hour later, all of them have finished and they are pouring out of the house to play by the front door.

Yes, peaceful and uncomplicated, he thinks as he helps Daniel keep upright to toddle around at the same time he and Jonathan follow the convoluted game of princesses and dragons Emily and Anna have concocted. Emily and Anna are the warrior princesses that have to fight the bad wizard, Jonathan, to liberate mama dragon, Stiles, and the baby dragon, Daniel, and that's exactly how Thomas finds them when he gets home.

"What do we have here?" he asks amused at the sight.

"We are warrior princesses, dad!" Anna exclaims and Emily nods seriously. They both wave their swords (sticks) in the air.

"And I'm an evil wizard!" Jonathan roars as he comes at them from behind, making them shriek and run around trying to avoid getting caught.

"And who are you?" Thomas asks Stiles smiling.

"He's mama dragon," Charles answers helpfully from inside through his opened window and Stiles feels himself blush.

"Well, I can see the logic in that," Thomas says after he stops laughing and Stiles scowls, which only makes him laugh harder. "Well, mama dragon, I need to speak to you for a moment."

"Sure?" Stiles answers warily.

"Don't look so worried, kid. I just could use your help, if you don't mind?"

When he nods unsurely, Thomas asks Charles to come outside to keep an eye on the kids for a bit. He leads Stiles towards his office and closes the door behind him, motioning to him to take a seat, which Stiles does.

"Ok, first, here," he says passing him a box.

"A phone?" Stiles asks surprised.

"Ah, yes," Thomas answers, suddenly looking a little awkward. "After what happened when we met, I'd feel better if we had a way to communicate with you in case of an emergency. I know it's been almost a month, I didn't know how to bring it up. I've already put everyone's number inside," he explains, his mouth quirking a bit at the dumbfounded expression on Stiles' face. "If that's ok?"

"Ah, yes. Yes!" Stiles finally replies, shaking himself out of his daze. "That's awesome. But you said you wanted my help?"

"Yes, about that. You need to understand this first: it's completely your choice and if you say no there will be no problem at all, ok?"

"Ok?" Stiles answers warily.

"Remember the lake where you went fishing with dad?"

"The one in Swallow Water?"

"That's the one," Thomas nods. "Well, something nearly pulled him underwater today and-"

"Wha- Is he ok?!"

"Yes, yes, he is! Sorry I wasn't clear about that," he apologizes chagrined. "The thing is that we could use knowing what the hell that thing is when we go to take care of it before anything else happens."

"Oh, you want me to go and identify it with the bestiary?"

"In all honesty, I'd rather not put you in danger again, but I also know that you can take care of yourself so... it's your choice."

Stiles is shocked again. Never in his life has someone said something like that to him. He finds himself smiling without meaning to and Thomas looks confused by his reaction, but he mimics him unconsciously.

"I'll go check it out."

It turns out to be a kelpie of all things and it wasn't trying to kill grandpa David but to ask for his help in a entirely wrong way. In her defense (because that kelpie is a she), she's really young, a six year old by human standards, and she didn't know not everyone can breathe underwater. She was terrified and in dire need of help, so when she recognized David as a supernatural, she tried to bring him with her because she doesn't speak a word of English and she didn't know how to explain except by showing him what was wrong. This is what her mom explains after Thomas calls the local werejaguar pack for help and they come with diving equipment, which allows them to help the kelpies that had been trapped by hunters six days ago and left to die out of starvation.

(It doesn't escape Stiles' notice that they trapped them together, so clearly they were hoping they resorted to cannibalism out of desperation, because otherwise they wouldn't have taken the risk of leaving them in a group that could somehow force their way out by working together.)

(A bitter and vindictive part of him wonders where the hell is the Tribunal now.)

Three days later, Stiles has to sneak out a second floor window when the Tribunal comes knocking at the door as if summoned by his thoughts. He doesn't even have time to pick up his backpack and leaves with what he has on. Thankfully he never separates from his dad's wallet and badge, so at least he has that, but he mourns the loss of the family pictures, even though he hasn't looked at them since he hid them back in Beacon Hills. His only consolation is that he knows that the Collinses won't let the Tribunal have them.

When he's nearly at the county's border, he finally allows himself to slow down a bit and call them. He adores Jonathan so much, he thinks when he tells Stiles that they couldn't stop them from taking his backpack, but that he took the pictures out while Margaret stalled them. He loves baby Daniel, he thinks too when Charles gleefully tells him that the poor thing got so stressed by the hunter's presence that he puked his dinner on two of them just as they passed.

"Will you be ok?" Thomas finally asks with a sigh after Stiles explains and he finally understands he won't be persuaded to come back.

"I'll try my best? The werejaguars must have told them I was there, so now I have them on my tail again and I'll have to keep moving for a while," he admits chagrined.

"I'm so sorry, Stiles, I didn't think they'd..."

"It's not your fault, Thomas. Please don't think that," Stiles assures him earnestly. "You've given me the best time I've had in a very long while. You can't know how much that means to me."

"You keep in touch, you hear me?" Linda says firmly, apparently wrestling the phone out of his husband's hand. "Don't you dare lose that phone. Promise me."

"I promise."

"Good," she replies. "Just know that you'll always have a place here and that you can call us if you need help and we're good. Now there are several someones that want to talk to you, hold on."

"Wha-"

"Stileeees," Anna whines tearfully through the speaker. "How am I gonna make you fall in love with me and marry me if you aren't even here?! I had a plan! A ten year long plan!"

Stiles laughs his heart out at the irony. Suddenly tears are rolling down his face and he finally notices that maybe he was ready to tentatively call this place home, after all.

"I'll be back," he promises, trying to keep his voice from wavering so that they don't notice he's crying.

"We'll hold you to that," David answers warmly.

(Not much later, right at the edge of the county, he gets caught and tranquilized as if he's an animal. He doesn't even feel the impact when he crumbles to the ground as a puppet whose strings have been cut off.)

#every revolution begins with a spark #teen wolf fics #my writing #teen wolf #steter

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 18

I’ll be switching point of views for this one so buckle your seat belts. I just hope I do the character’s justice because it’s been a minute since I watched the show. Also going to be changing the perspective because... My writing makes no sense and it probably never will.

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

“I'm saying we need a new plan, because next time, one of us is going to be too hurt to heal.” Derek led Scott and I into the subway car in the middle of the abandoned depot. The unfortunate reality is that Jackson was no longer Jackson, and we only had one option left.

Scott sighed, “Ugh, I get it. We can't save Jackson.”

Derek sat down on one of the seats, “We can't seem to kill him, either. I've seen a lot of things, Scott. I've never seen anything like this. Every new moon's just gonna make him stronger.” He said grimly.

“But how do we stop him?”

“I don't know. I don't even know if we can.” He shrugged, sounding defeated. I could imagine how he felt, powerful but so helpless.

“Maybe we should just let the Argents handle it...” He suggested.

“I don’t know if they could help.” I crossed my arms over my chest, “Chris filled him with lead and it didn’t stop him. I don’t think they could handle it either.”

“I'm the one who turned him. It's my fault.” Derek let his head hang.

“That’s not true.” I looked at him sternly.

“You didn't turn him into this! I mean, this happened because of something in his past, right?” Scott asked.

Derek scoffed, “That's a legend in a book. It's not that simple.”

“What do you mean? What aren't you telling me?”

“Why do you think I'm always keeping something from you?” He looked up at Scott.

“Because you always are keeping something from me!”

“Well, maybe I do it to protect you. Both of you.”

“Doesn't being part of your pack mean no more secrets?”

Derek sighed, looking down at his hands, “Go home, Scott. Sleep. Heal. Make sure your friends are safe... 'Cause the full moon's coming, and with the way things are going, I've got a feeling it's gonna be a rough one.” Scott left with a huff, leaving Derek and I alone.

“Der...” I said softly, running my fingers through his dark hair. He closed his eyes, humming softly.

“You can’t blame yourself, you could have never imagined what could have happened.”

“I thought there was something wrong with my bite.” His voice was barely audible, “Something wrong with me.”

“No, no, no.” Kneeling down, I cupped his cheeks in my hands, “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect.”

“You have to say that. I’m your mate.”

I only cringed a little at his use of the word “mate” unironically, “That’s not true. I give you criticism at any chance I get. But that’s mostly because you keep turning kids into soldiers.”

“I guess you’re right.” His lips turned up slightly, “You’re like my conscience, but a lot better looking than this mug.” He leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips. Grinning, I kissed his nose and stood up.

“I gotta get home, make sure everyone’s alright. I’ll see you later.” I winked, making my way out of the depot.

I got home late, but not any later than the usual lately. As soon as I closed the door, I saw Uncle Noah at the kitchen table. He was pouring whiskey into a glass, probably wasn’t his wish. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept or showered in a while. Walking quietly, I placed my hands on his shoulders, squeezing lightly.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He looked up at me slowly, blinking his pale green eyes at me.

“I don’t know what I did wrong, (Your Mom’s Name).” He said, “(Y/N) is so distant and she won’t talk to me anymore.” I was told once or twice that I resembled my mother, but in his drunkenness, he must have thought I was her.

“I mean, hell... She was dating someone for months and she didn’t even tell me. Sure, he was a person of interest... But he was also her friend.”

Smiling softly, I guided him to a standing position, “No, Noah, she’s just going through a lot right now. She’s still learning and growing. And you’re doing the best job you can and she loves you for it.” I helped him to his room and into bed.

“Goodnight, (Y/M/N).” He yawned, pulling the covers over himself and closing his eyes.

“Goodnight, Noah.” I said, closing the door behind me. I took a deep breath and went down the hall to Stiles’ room. He was sleeping away in the most ridiculous position possible, having fought off a kanima and saving his friend from death. I was just happy to see him there, alive and breathing.

“Goodnight, Stiles.” I whispered, closing his door all the way.

It was the night of the full moon and my body was already feeling the effects of it. But since my self training/ anger management was doing well, Derek gave a hesitant okay for working with Scott’s Scooby Gang to keep a look out at Lydia’s birthday party. Derek and I had the betas in the railway car in the depot. He was looking through his family’s chest again.

“What is that?” Isaac asked, looking quizzically at the symbol on the box.

“It’s a triskele.” Boyd said, “The spirals mean different things: past, present, future; mother, father, child.”

“Do you know what it means to me?” Derek asked.

“Alpha, Beta, Omega?”

“That’s right. It’s a spiral, it reminds us that we can rise to one.”

“And fall to another.” I finished. It was one of the few things I remembered word for word from the research we did back when Derek was cousin Miguel.

“Betas can become Alpha, but Alphas can fall to Betas, or even Omegas.” Derek said, continuing to look through the box.

“Like Scott?” Isaac asked.

“Scott’s with us.”

“Really?” Isaac’s voice held just a touch of sarcasm, “Then where is he now?”

“They’re looking for Jackson.” He looked pointedly at me, then back to the group, “Don’t worry, they’re not gonna have it easy either. None of us will. There’s a price you pay for this kind of power. You get the ability to heal” He handed a leather belt connected to a chain to Isaac, “But tonight, you’re gonna want to kill anything you can find.”

“Good thing I had my period last week then.” Erica chuckled. Derek pulled a metal crown from the box, there were screws turned inwards towards where someone’s head would be.

“Well, this one's for you.” Erica’s face immediately changed. Beeping made me look down at my phone.

Stiles:

2006 Swim Team - Lahey was the Coach.

“That’s my cue to leave.” I shoved my phone in my pocket and backed out of the open door, heading out into the open depot.

“Wait.” Derek called after me, catching me before leaving out the door in my car that was finally back from the shop.

“Yes?” I sing-songed, turning around to face him.

“I wanted to give you something.” He said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans, “You have something from Stiles but you should have something from me. Something that means... More.” From his pocket he produced a silver ring, it had a twisted band towards the top with a triskele cut out of the metal.

I started down at the ring in shock, “Is... Is this a proposal?” His eyes widened.

“No.” He squeezed his eyes shut, “I mean, not yet. This... This is a promise. For both of us. You uh, could wear it on your ring finger if you want though-That is if you want it-” I silenced his babbling with my lips.

“I love it.” I smiled, taking the ring and sliding it on my left ring finger. It fit surprisingly, “Thank you.”

“Tonight... I’m probably going to get hurt. Just try to block it out as much as you can.”

“Sounds good. I love you.” I cupped his cheek.

“I love you.” He smiled. My hand slipped from his cheek and I made my way out of the depot.

I parked outside of Lydia’s house and I was actually able to park in her driveway. From what I remember, Lydia’s parties, especially her birthday parties, were supposed to be insane and packed. Yet, I could only see Roscoe. Which meant that Stiles was finally invited. Good for him. I knocked on the front door and waited, slipping my hands into my jacket pockets.

The door opened, revealing Lydia who was vaguely confused by my being at her door. She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at me.

“Sarah?”

“(Y/N).” I corrected her.

“Oh. Well, come in.” She opened the door further, revealing the tray of pink cocktails in her hand, “Have a drink.” I grabbed a pink drink from the tray and cheered it towards her as I went inside, going straight to the back where Scott, Stiles and Allison were sitting on the deck of the pool.

“Is this... everyone?” I asked, sitting besides Stiles in a lawn chair.

"Maybe it's just early?" Scott said, not believing it himself.

Stiles said grimly, "Or maybe nobody's coming because Lydia turned into the town whack job."

"Well, we have to do something because we've completely ignored her for the past two weeks..." Allison said.

"She's completely ignored Stiles for the past ten years." Scott pointed out.

"I prefer to think of it as I haven't been on her radar." Stiles said in an offended tone.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." I patted his shoulder.

Scott sighed, “We don't owe her a party.”

“What about the chance to get back to normal?” Allison crossed her arms over her chest.

“Normal?”

She shrugged, “She wouldn't be the "town whackjob" if it wasn't for us.”

Scott nodded, “I guess I could use my co-captain status to get the lacrosse team here...”

I pulled out my phone, “I could pull some strings with some people from my year.” I found the group text I had gotten from when I had been abducted, typing in Lydia’s address and the promise of a party and booze.

“Yeah, I also know some people who can get this thing going. Like, really going.” Stiles said, looking down at his phone. He was looking through his contacts, finding: Drag Queen from Jungle.

“Who?” She asked.

“I met them the other night... Let's just say, they know how to party.” He sent off the text then looked over at me.

“What is that?” He asked, motioning with his phone to my left hand.

“A ring. You know what those are, right?” I sipped my drink.

Stiles’ jaw clenched, looking towards the sidewalk, “You gonna marry him.”

“It’s not an engagement ring, it’s a promise ring.”

“Whatever.” He got up, walking inside. I avoided Scott and Allison’s awkward gaze and just took a large gulp of my drink.

In the next ten minutes, the amount of people who showed up was pretty astounding. Town whack job or not, promise people booze and they will come. Walking through the crowd, I saw people that I used to hang around with. A lot of people gave their condolences, lots of staring, sad smiles, but that’s how it was.

“A little jumpy are we, Jackson?” I took a sip out of my drink.

While walking through it hit me - shitty, over priced cologne. And possibly, a terrible attitude. And lizard. I turned quickly and saw Jackson. He was startled by my sudden movement.

He narrowed his eyes at me, then looked away, “I don’t have to explain myself to someone who makes minimum wage.”

"I would watch my back if I were you, (Y/L/N). Full moon makes me feel a certain way." I chuckled and looked down, craning my neck back up to flash him my red eyes.

“Maybe it’s because you’re not a disgusting lizard thing right now, but I could care less that you are trying to intimidate me. You don’t even know why you came here tonight, do you? You’re certainly not here for Lydia.”

It was my turn to narrow my eyes, “You don’t know why you’re here. So that means...” The puppeteer was here, “Good talk, gotta go.” As I walked quickly, trying to find Scott or Stiles, I found Matt getting a drink from Lydia, but he really wasn’t looking at Lydia. He had his eyes trained on Allison and the way he wasn’t looking at her reminded me of the night Michael took me. I didn’t like Allison at the best of times considering she shot me and all, but this was too much to ignore. As I walked towards Matt I was halted, like my feet didn’t want to move from what I saw. Derek was standing by himself near the outside of the house. I walked up to him quickly.

“Derek, what are you doing here? Where are the others?” They couldn’t have transformed then transformed back by now, there was no way.

“There’s been something I’ve been thinking about.” He swirled the drink in his hand, the same drink everyone else had, “You have a habit of making people miserable or getting them killed.”

“Excuse me?” I squinted at me, swallowing thickly. My throat felt dry and was it getting hotter?

“Think about it. Your parents think you’re too weak to keep your secret so they take your life from you, taking you from me. You’re the reason your parents are dead. You got Michael killed.” He stepped forward and with every step, I took one back, “I’m just wondering when it’s my turn to die or even Stiles.”

“Derek, I-” My eyes were watering.

“How about I kill Stiles for you? Save some blood for your hands. Or,” He chuckled, “Would you rather do it yourself.” He started to walk back towards the party. I grabbed his arm to stop him when he abruptly turned.

“You know what, I’ll just let you kill me. You can handle the rest on your own.” He grabbed my wrist and jerked it, my claws flicking out. I tried to pull my wrist away but his grip was too strong.

“No, stop!” I screamed as he slashed my claws across his throat, blood spraying across my face. Suddenly, Derek and blood were gone. All the party goers were going about their business, I was the only one who had seen Derek use my own hands to kill him. I looked over my hand and made sure the blood had been imagined. My eyes were then brought to the pink drink in my hand. This had to be the reason... Lydia spiked the drinks, but with what? I couldn’t even remember how many of these I had. To make matters worse, my stomach got super queasy-

I turned to the bushes and threw up everything that I had eaten that day. If I didn’t feel great, it was worse now. I got a few disgusted looks but that was the least of my problems. I dumped my drink in the bushes and started to stumble forward, looking to find Scott or Stiles. Thinking about it now, my mouth was starting to get itchy which was possibly the worst possible feeling to add onto everything else. I went into the house and upstairs, finding Matt groaning on the floor and Allison rushing passed me.

“Matt?” I asked, helping him off the ground, “What happened to you?” Once on his feet, he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Allison happened. She put me flat on my ass.” Probably with good reason.

He squinted at me, “Are you alright?” I shook my head.

“Not really. You got gum or something, that drink left the worst taste in my mouth.”

“No,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a white pill bottle, “But I have some pain meds.”

“That’ll work.” I took the bottle then looked behind me, grabbing a water bottle out of someone’s hands.

“Hey!” The person glared. I glared right back, “Not the time, freshman.” This seemed to scare him enough for the kid to walk away. I opened the bottle and popped the blue capsule in my mouth and chased it with what was not water but actually vodka.

“Jesus!” I spat to the side, “What is wrong with people?” I looked at the bottle, realizing that it had no label.

“Hey, what was that? Tylenol? Ibuprofen?”

Matt smiled, “Mistletoe actually.” I blinked at him, my heart dropping into my stomach.

“What?”

“Mistletoe.” He chuckled, “That’s supposed to knock you guys out, right?” I took a step back and hit the doorframe, already feeling the effects of the poison in my system.

“Using Jackson to kill my murderers is good, but I need protection. You protected me once. From Lahey. And you’re gonna protect me again, whether you like it or not.”

SCOTT

Scott pushed through the crowd, asking anyone who would listen if they had seen Lydia. The drinks she had made had been spiked to create hallucinations. We had to find out why. She spiked the punch with wolfsbane petals which seemed to cause Stiles and Allison to hallucinate too.

Outside, Stiles ran up to Scott, “Hey, I can't find her. And dude? Anyone who drank that crap, they're freaking out.” They watched two people cannonball into Lydia’s pool with all their clothes on.

“...I can see that.”

“What the hell do we do?”

“I don't know, but we gotta-”

“I can't swim!” Both their heads turned. Matt was being carried by three people, he was flailing and panicking, “No, no, no, no, stop, guys! I can't swim! I can't swim! I can't-I can't-” The partiers didn’t listen, throwing him into the pool. He went under immediately. And to their surprise, Jackson and (Y/N) ran to the poolside and both pulled him out.

Once on the pool deck, (Y/N) got Matt on his side, helping him cough up any water he swallowed. They both helped him to stand. Everyone was staring at that point.

“...What are you looking at?” Matt barked at the gawking crowd. Jackson took the time to make his exit. (Y/N) walked towards Scott and Stiles, Matt close behind her.

“Move.” She growled, flashing her bright red eyes. The two parted, letting (Y/N) and Matt through. Immediately after, a siren cut through the air.

“COPS ARE HERE!” Someone in the crowd shouted, causing the party goers to scatter. Scott and Stiles followed the ground out and onto the street. Scott looked down the street and saw them. Matt was standing in front of his car, dripping wet and seething with rage. Jackson in his kanima form was in front of him on all fours and (Y/N) stood at his right, claws out and fangs bared. He’d been under their noses for so long but now that they know, that meant they were in danger, all of them.

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

Read Part 19 here!

Who needs a point a view when you’re under mind control, ammi right?

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#derek hale x reader #derek hale fic #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fic

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teenwolffan-with-nolife · 4 years

Text

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.25

Word Count: 3,513

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Noah Stilinski, Chris Argent, Peter Hale, Allison Argent, Lydia Martin, Jackson Whittemore, Isaac Lahey, Gerard Argent, Reader

Pairings: Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, small fluff, slight panic attack, cliffhanger

A/N: skip this whole part it’s terrible i just wanted to finish the season up hopefully season three won’t be as bad as this season and season one

Masterlist Series Masterlist

“I put out an APB on Stiles, we have people looking for him. His car is still in the parking lot, which means...” Sheriff Stilinski paused, looking down as he took a deep breath.

“He’ll be okay, Mr.Stilinski,” you said softly.

“If any of you hear from him, let me know, please,” he begged.

You, Scott, and Isaac nodded your heads as he sighed, leaving.

“We’ll split up, we’ll all look for Stiles, okay?” Scott asked, opening up Stiles’ locker.

Holy shit, Erica and Boyd

“Oh my god, I forgot. Shit! Erica and Boyd are in trouble, I gotta go,” you remembered, your eyes widening.

“What? Where? What happened?” Scott asked, alarmed.

“They're in trouble. In the woods,” you debated whether or not to tell him it was Argent, before deciding not to.

“Okay, so we’ll go look for Stiles. We’ll call you, okay?” Isaac asked.

You nodded, waving to them both as you ran off.

---

You ran in the woods, alert of your surroundings as you looked around, looking for Erica and Boyd, looking for anything.

You walked further into the woods, feeling your hope die as you grew worried, unable to find them.

You sniffled softly as the wind blew, making you shiver.

You heard something snap as you paused, looking down. There was an arrow on the ground.

You picked it up, examining it, finding another one like it.

You looked at the initials engraved, as the tip of the arrow was silver. Silver, engraved. Argent.

You grabbed the arrow, running away, making your way to Argent’s house.

---

You rang your doorbell, banging your fists on the door.

Chris opened the door, giving you a blank look.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Explain this,” you held the arrows pieces, throwing them at his chest.

He looked away from you, exhaling.

“Where are they?” you asked him, clenching your jaw.

He ignored your question, walking into the house as you followed him.

“Stop walking away and tell me, now!” you yelled, yanking his arm.

“They’ll be okay if you give us Derek,” he said calmly.

“Are you joking?! What the hell happened to you? They’re all innocent, Chris. What the hell?!” you yelled.

He ignored your gaze, looking down.

“Look at me right fucking now!” you yelled, your eyes glowing purple.

“It wasn't my choice,” he began as you scoffed.

You paused, thinking back.

Arrow, it was an arrow

Argent never used an arrow, his weapon of choice was always a gun. Who uses arrows?

“Allison,” you gasped.

“I can't do anything about her, ever since Victoria died-” Argent started.

“What? Victoria’s dead? Oh my god,” you knew you would be lying if you pretended to sympathize.

She always made you uncomfortable, the two of you never got along to begin with. You felt bad for Argent.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you said.

“Well, it doesn't matter now. I’m losing Allison to Gerard too now,” he rubbed his head.

“Chris, look what she’s doing. She’s hurt two innocent wolves,” you started.

“She’s a hunter, it happens!” he yelled.

“No, it doesn't happen! Chris, you see it but you don't want to admit it. Gerard is turning her into Kate. He’s using Victoria’s death and twisting her into someone else, someone she’s not. Someone like Kate,” you said.

“Kate and I were the same,” he started.

“No, you’re not. No matter what, you would never burn down the Hale house. You would never hurt a supernatural creature that didn't deserve it. You would never hurt me and Derek. You know Derek didn't kill Kate. His uncle did. Deep down you know something's wrong with all of this,” you said, looking up at him.

“You should go,” he said softly.

“Please, do the right thing,” you begged him.

You heard noises from the basement as you looked at the door.

Argent looked confused slightly, as you walked toward the door.

“(Y/N),” he said, walking behind you.

You ran down the stairs, your eyes going wide in shock as you saw Erica and Boyd tied up by their wrists, hanging from the ceiling, while Stiles laid on the floor.

“He’s human,” you said softly.

“He’s human! Open your eyes, Chris, see what’s happening!” you yelled at him as you ran to Stiles’ unconscious form, holding him up. He had a bruised lip and a cut on his cheek as you checked his pulse, making sure he was at least alive.

Erica let out a muffled cry, looking at you as her body was shaking.

“Intermissum,” you recited a spell, breaking off Erica and Boyd’s chains, as they both collapsed to the ground, pulling off their chains and the cut tape around their mouth.

You looked at Chris, glaring as he looked away, walking back upstairs.

Erica and Boyd immediately ran to you, wrapping their arms around you tightly as you hugged them back.

You kissed each of their foreheads, holding their hands.

“Are you okay?” you asked them.

They both nodded.

“Good, you guys need to leave. Go to the Hale house, okay?” you said, holding Stiles up.

“Thank you,” Erica sniffled.

You smiled softly, giving them both one last hug before they ran off.

Time to get Stiles home

---

You saw Stiles shuffle from the corner of your eyes, as he groaned, sitting up.

“Stiles, you okay?” you asked, pulling into the driveway.

“My head hurts,” he said softly.

“Here, I’ll help you in,” you walked to the other side of the car, opening the door for Stiles.

“I’m fine, I don’t need help. I just need to talk to my dad,” he hopped out of the car, standing in front of you.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said.

“Of course. I’m gonna tell Scott that you’re okay,” you gave him a small smile as you sat back into your car, driving off.

---

“Yeah, Stiles is okay. He’s at home now,” you replied to Scott, as you drove in your car.

“Me and Isaac are going to the hospital. My mom said that there's something wrong with Jackson’s body,” Scott explained.

“What happened?” you asked.

“Uhm, can you meet us at the hospital?” Scott asked.

“Yeah, sure,” you took a quick U-Turn, driving to the hospital.

---

“Scott?” you ran into the hospital, seeing him.

“Yeah, my mom and Isaac are with Jackson,” Scott explained.

“Let's go,” you started walking forward as Scott linked his arm with yours, pulling you aside as you raised an eyebrow.

“What?” you asked.

“I have a plan. You can’t tell anyone, okay?” Scott started.

“What? What is it?” you asked.

“Okay, look. I smelt it on Gerard the first time I met him. He’s dying, (Y/N). That’s why he's doing this. He wants Derek so that Derek can turn him, not to avenge Kate. He wants to be a werewolf to save his life,” Scott explained while you stared at him in shock.

“How do you know? Gerard hates werewolves,” you said.

“I know, but I’ve been working with him… secretly. Sorry,” he said softly.

“Oh, it’s not a secret, kid. Derek knows. He’s the one who told me,” you shrugged.

“Oh… okay well I still need your help. You have to get Derek to bite Gerard,” Scott begged.

You gave him a blank expression.

“Did you take a lacrosse ball to your head?” you raised an eyebrow.

“I switched his pills. He’s filled with Mountain Ash,” Scott said.

“Scott, that’s genius. How the hell did you come up with that?” you laughed softly.

“I’m not an idiot, you know,” he replied.

“I never said you were! Okay, what do we have to do now?” you asked.

“Just don’t tell anyone. First, we need to get Jackson’s body out of here,” you walked to the morgue with Scott.

---

“Can you do a spell to slow him down from doing whatever he’s… doing?” Isaac asked as he and Scott carried Jackson’s body.

“I can try. There’s no guarantee. He might be immune like Matt was,” you explained.

“How was he immune?” Scott asked.

“I have no idea. Something called Hawthorn. I didn't know about it till that hunter used it at the rave,” you explained.

“Oh… well can you try?” Scott asked.

“Minuere,” you recited a spell softly, your eyes turning purple as you gasped slightly, feeling a shock go throughout your body.

“Crap,” you jumped back.

“What? What is it?” Isaac asked.

“Nothing, it should've worked. I don't know how long it’s gonna hold or what’s gonna happen next,” you replied, taking a deep breath as your body ached in pain. You ignored it.

“Let’s just get him out of here,” as the three of you walked to the parking lot, you saw bright headlights blind the three of you as you rolled your eyes, seeing a black van. Which always belonged to hunters.

Instead of seeing a hunter, you saw as Chris walked out of the car, looking at the three of you.

“Chris,” you stared at him.

“You were right. I’m losing her. And so are you,” he looked at Scott.

“Will you trust us to fix this?” Scott asked.

Chris nodded softly.

“So you’ll let us go?” Scott asked.

“No… my car’s faster,” you smiled softly, as Scott and Isaac three Jackson’s body into the backseat of Chris’ car, the four of you driving off.

---

“Where’s Peter?” you immediately asked Derek, as he stood in front of you, Isaac, Scott, and Chris.

“What is he doing here?” Derek glared at Chris, ignoring your question.

“He's helping us,” you said.

“I’m here for Jackson. Not you,” Chris said.

“Somehow I don’t find that very comforting,” Derek replied.

“Get him inside,” Derek motioned to the abandoned warehouse next to all of you.

---

“Where’s Peter?” you asked Derek again.

He looked at you, while you grew annoyed, staring back at him, still not replying.

He stood on top of Jackson's body, unzipping the bag.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Scott gasped, looking cautiously at Derek.

“We were gonna save him,” Scott said.

“It’s too late for that!” Derek yelled.

“No! Stop, no we’re gonna save him. What the hell?” you yelled at Derek, your face dropping.

“What about...” Scott started.

“Think about it! Gerard controls him now! He’s turned Jackson into his own personal guard dog! Jackson’s just gonna get more powerful. Gerard’s planned this since the beginning,” Derek yelled, looking at you.

“No, Gerard wouldn't do that. If Jackson’s going rabid, then Gerard would put him down, not keep him,” Chris started.

“You’re right. Nothing that dangerous should be left alive,” you jumped as you saw Gerard walking to all of you.

You tensed up as you saw Derek’s claws in the air, as he tried to kill Jackson. Jackson opened his eyes, sticking his claws into Derek's chest as you gasped.

“No,” you gasped, running to Derek before Isaac grabbed your arm, holding you back.

You watched as Jackson threw Derek aside, jumping up.

You ducked quickly, hearing a slight whistling noise as an arrow flew into Isaac’s chest.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed.

You saw as Allison stood behind Gerard. You clenched your jaw, helping Isaac up as he leaned on you, quickly taking him to safety.

Someone was definitely gonna die.

---

“Premere,” your eyes glew purple as Jackson hissed, in kanima form as he kneeled in front of you. You felt the blood drip from your bruised lip.

You felt yourself go slightly dizzy as you used your powers to hold Jackson.

You couldn't kill him, but that didn't mean you couldn't hurt him a little.

Shit! you tried to dodge the arrow Allison was shooting at you, but failed, crying out as it went into your thigh.

You continued to stand, focusing to keep your powers on Jackson.

You exhaled shakily, trying to keep your balance.

Allison shot another arrow, as you ducked down once again, missing it.

Your bit your lip as you took a deep breath.

This wasn't going to hold for long.

You stumbled backward before falling on your back as you groaned, your spell breaking as Jackson took off across the room, running to Derek.

Don’t do it, don't look down you ignored your thoughts as you looked down at the arrow sticking out of your thigh.

“Fuck,” you groaned.

Allison walked to you, holding two knives in her hand.

“Are you gonna kill me? Allison, what are you doing?” you asked softly.

She ignored you as she stood over you.

“I know that you’re in pain, I know your mom died, but that doesn't mean you have to kill your friends. That doesn't mean you have to be on Gerard’s side. He's trying to make you a bad person, you’re not a bad person,” you begged Allison, looking up at her.

“You don’t know anything. It’s all Derek’s fault that she’s dead. He bit her,” Allison spat.

What?

“So does that mean you’re gonna kill Scott? You love him,” you said.

“Biggest mistake of my life. You don’t understand,” she said.

“All I know is that Gerard is crazy, there’s something wrong with him. He’s twisting your mind,” you said.

“You’re lying. My mom left me a letter-” she started.

“Was it your mom? Or did Gerard make you think that?” you asked.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Gerard twists people’s thoughts all the time. How do you know he’s not lying about your mom?” Allison froze, as you looked into her eyes.

Her eyes went wide as Jackson’s claws wrapped around her neck, pulling her up as she struggled for air.

“(Y/N),” Derek ran to you, falling on his knees.

“I’m fine,” you winced, ignoring the arrow as you gripped onto Derek’s hands, pushing yourself up.

“What are you doing?!” Allison exclaimed, looking worriedly at Gerard.

“He's doing what he came here to do,” Scott said.

“Then you know,” Gerard said.

“What? What’s he talking about?” Allison asked shakily.

“He’s dying,” you answered.

“I am, I have been for a while now. Unfortunately, science doesn't have a cure for cancer yet. But the supernatural does,” Gerard looked at Derek.

You glanced at Scott, who nodded at you. Now or never.

“Derek, do you trust me?” you whispered.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Bite him,” you said.

“Are you insane?!” he whisper yelled.

“Do it, please,” you begged.

“No,” he said.

You looked at Allison, as she struggled to breathe, Jackson’s claws wrapped firmly around her neck.

“Impetu,” your eyes glew purple as you used your power on Derek, forcing him as Gerard smirked, pulling up his sleeve.

Derek growled, his eyes glowing red as he gave you a look.

His fangs stuck out of his mouth, as you used your magic to make him bite Gerard.

Derek fell to the ground as Gerard yelled out in pain, before laughing.

“Are you fucking crazy?! What the fuck?!” Derek yelled at you.

You reached for him, pulling him up before wincing slightly, your leg aching.

Gerard froze as he began coughing, black blood began spilling out of the bite. His body was rejecting it.

He shakily pulled out his container of pills, crushing them as he saw them filled with Mountain Ash.

“Mountain Ash,” he yelled, looking at Scott.

It worked

You laughed softly, around as everyone looked at you and Scott, confused.

“Scott had a plan,” you explained.

You saw the blood dripping out of Gerard as he fell to the ground.

Jackson released his grip on Allison as you quickly elbowed him before pulling Allison to you.

You kept your arms around her tightly, as she sniffled, burying her face in your neck.

Before Jackson could fight back, you heard a car screech as you saw Stiles’ car, driving quickly and running straight into Jackson.

“Yeah!” Stiles cheered before Jackson jumped on top of his car as he screamed, Lydia, sitting in the passenger's seat.

Stiles and Lydia quickly ran out of the car, as Lydia stood in front of Jackson, holding a key out.

Tears streamed down her face as she looked at Jackson.

Jackson stared at Lydia, before reverting back to himself, backing away from her. Derek and Peter ran to Jackson, sticking their claws into his chest as Lydia cried out. Lydia held Jackson as she cried shakily.

“Derek…” your leg was aching, blood dripping from your wound as you bit your lip tightly, holding back your pain.

They weren't supposed to kill him

“Do you still…” Jackson started.

“I do,” Lydia nodded, hugging him tightly as you saw Stiles’ face drop.

You felt your heart ache slightly for Stiles before Allison gasped.

“Shit! Y-Your leg, I’m so sorry!” she gasped.

“I’m fine,” you shook your head.

“There’s literally an arrow sticking out of your leg,” she scoffed.

It hurt like hell but you knew it would hurt more if you took the arrow out.

“What the...” you heard Stiles gasp as you turned back to Jackson and Lydia, your eyes going wide.

Jackson was alive, his eyes glew blue. He was a werewolf.

---

“How’s your leg?” Derek asked as you sat up in your bed, standing next to you.

“It’s fine,” you replied.

“So, you had a plan,” Derek smirked, crossing his arms.

“Yeah… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you...” you started.

He put his hands around your face, stroking your cheeks softly.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said.

“You should be,” you sighed.

“What's wrong, really?” Derek asked softly, sitting in front of you as he held your hand.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you said.

“Fine, but if something is wrong, you can tell me anything. You know that,” he said softly, kissing your hand.

“I know,” you replied softly.

“Can I ask you… about Victoria,” you started.

“I should've told you. She tried to kill Scott and me, I did it to save his life,” Derek said.

You nodded softly, before resting your head on his shoulder.

“Knock knock,” you heard an annoying voice walk into your apartment.

“Derek, I love you but I will kill him if he doesn't leave right now,” you glared at Peter.

“Really? No love? Even after everything?” Peter fake pouted.

“You mean after you hid? While we were all fighting for our lives? And then you attempted to kill Jackson? Don’t act like you're all high and mighty,” you rolled your eyes.

“Feisty,” Peter smirked.

“Get out,” Derek pointed to the door.

“Just thought you’d wanna know, your little wolves ran away,” Peter said.

“They left two days ago,” Derek said.

You tensed up, looking at him.

“You mean they’re not at your house?” you asked shakily.

“You saw them leave,” Derek turned to you.

“No, they… they should be there,” you stood up shakily.

“You’re injured,” Derek tensed up, holding your hand as you stood up.

“It’s fine. They're supposed to be there,” you said.

“Okay, fine, we’ll go there, just hold on,” Derek helped you to the door, closing it behind you.

---

Your eyes watered as you looked at the empty house.

“I… they’re supposed to be here,” your voice cracked.

“They left,” Derek said softly.

“No, I was at Argent’s house. They were there. I-I told them to come here. Where are they?” you raised your voice slightly.

“Maybe they just left, just breathe,” Derek put his hands on your shoulder as you noticed something on the front door.

You limped to the door, looking at it cautiously.

It wasn't a spiral, although it was similar.

“Why do you think Derek was in such a rush to build his pack? The alpha pack is coming for him,” Peter said.

“What if they took Erica and Boyd?” you asked shakily.

“It's not… no,” Derek started.

“It's my fault they’re gone. Oh my god,” you said shakily, tears streaming down your face.

“It’s not your fault. (Y/N), we’ll find them,” Derek said softly, stroking your face.

“They…” you froze, crying softly.

You gasped for air, feeling your chest tighten as you clenched your jaw, crying out shakily.

“(Y/N)?” Derek’s eyes went wide as he held onto you tightly.

You held his hand, tears in your eyes as you tried to breathe, your vision blurring.

“Can’t…” you tried to breathe, your face red as you cried.

“What is it?” Derek asked.

You cried loudly, while Derek shushed you, pulling you into his arms tightly.

“She’s having a panic attack,” you heard Peter’s voice from behind the two of you as you tried to hold back your cries, failing.

“Leave, now,” you heard Derek growl at Peter before he walked out of the house.

“Hey, shh, (Y/N), look at me. Breathe,” Derek put his hands on either side of your face as you took deep breaths, feeling your chest aching.

“They’re gone,” you cried out.

“No, it’s okay, (Y/N/N). They’re okay. We’ll find them,” Derek wrapped his arms around you, while you cried in pain, falling to the floor.

“We’ll find them, (Y/N). I promise you,” he pressed his lips to your forehead, caressing your back.

“We’ll find them, I promise.”

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