Ed21
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“I know the fear, Stiles. I know it well. But, let’s not–” Derek entwined their fingers together, “let’s stop letting it stop us from going ahead and getting to know something else, something better, something happier. We’ve played this game long enough, don’t you think?” He finished with a soft smile, trying to catch Stiles’ gaze.
Stiles’ head stubbornly remained turned down.
Bookmarked by Ed21
09 Aug 2025
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Returning to Beacon Hills was never on Stiles' agenda—not this year, and probably not ever. There’s nothing here worth returning to, despite the relentless pull that perpetually calls on him. When he felt his twin die, he couldn’t resist it anymore; whatever is left of his humanity won’t let him disregard it, or the unfortunate Hale tragedy. He must pay his respects and mourn the last vestiges of his human life.
Or, the one where Stiles returns to his hometown after eighty years, and Derek wants to murder him.
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Stiles isn’t exactly sure how long he’s been sitting on the floor of his bedroom in the dark leaning against his bed, halfway undressed, throat raw, staring vacantly at the chaotic mess of red string, scribbled notes, and photos on his investigation board, not really seeing any of it.
A long time, he thinks, he knows, but he still can’t get himself to move, to finish changing into his pajamas, to crawl up into the bed and go to sleep, even though he’s exhausted.
Getting exposed to a supernaturally-jacked up distemper virus and nearly losing more of your friends will do that to you.
Looking down the barrel of a gun and into the eyes of a madman who’s about to kill you because you’re the only thing between him and your friends will, apparently, make you collapse onto the floor, borrowed t-shirt twisted around your wrists, practically catatonic.
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Bookmarked by Ed21
03 Jun 2025