Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hi, hello, welcome to my book of one shots. You can see my user but you can call me K! I go by he/they and my books are a safe space for everyone(except p*edos, MAPS, racists, homophobes, etc.) Info for requests is at the bottom of this chapter. The rest of the chapter includes information about trigger warnings and what the book includes. 

This Book Will Include:
Age regression( non-sexual at all)

Kid Fics

Cursing

*Mentions and graphic depictions of depression*

*Mentions and graphic depictions of anxiety, panic attacks, and anxiety attacks.*

*Mentions and graphic depictions of sexual assault, harassment, and rape.*

*Mentions and graphic depictions of physical, emotional, and mental abuse.*

*Mentions and graphic depictions of child abuse, neglect, and abusive relationships.*

*Mentions and graphic depictions of violence, blood, and fighting.*

*Mentions and graphic depictions of loss of a family member, death, and grief.*

*Mentions and graphic depictions of self-harm, PTSD, self-hate, suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide.*

Any slurs will be censored for the safety and comfort of readers. Please censor the use of words like sl*t, wh*re, etc in the comments as well

*Mentions and graphic depictions of homophobia(censored), transphobia(censored), transphobic slur (censored) sl*t shaming(censored), homophobic slurs(censored).*

The use of the following items:
•Baby/toddler toys
•Cribs
•Changing tables
•Diapers
•Bottles/sippy cups/pacifiers.
•Onesies

I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANY OF THE FOLLOWING:
•Bullying in the comments
•Being rude to other readers or me.
•Homophobia of any kind.
•Tr*mp supporters.
•Slurs such as sl*t, the F slur, the T slur, the "N" word, etc.

The Triggers Warnings well be in this format. 

𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗕𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝙈𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴: It will go on to list things the story only glosses over or mentions but will not go into specific detail about those things.

𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 Contains 𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙝𝙞𝙘 𝘿𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝗢𝗳 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗙𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴: 

It will then go on to list things the story follows in detail, and talks about a lot. Meaning it will not be just glossed over and it's a major part of the story.

I try to be as specific as possible when writing my trigger warnings, if on a chapter you'd like me to add something please don't hesitate to ask, even something small.

Requests

I do take requests! Please feel free to leave them here or under any chapter. (Requests closed as of 8/1/25)

I Will Do The Following Requests

• Angst
• Hurt/Comfort
• Mental Health Issues
• Age Regression
• Fluff
• Kid Fics 
• Minor/Minors(not smut ew)

Basically anything not on this list below!

I Will Not Do The Following Requests:

• NSFW(meaning smut, and anything like that)
• Minors/Adults(including, Steter, Leter/Pydia, Scott/Chris, etc.)
• Incest
• Anyone being in love with an animal.
• Anything Involving Heat
• Age Play

Please try to be as specific as possible with your requests, include things like ships, a small amount of plot, and just general information that you feel is important! Thanks. (Requests closed as of 8/1/25)

I hope you all enjoy the book!

Chapter Text

"Daddy!" Issac cries out, sniffling and wiping at his eyes.

"Wan' daddy!" He whines, instinctively reaching out in front of him and grabbing at the air.

"What's wrong with him?" Lydia shouts desperately, brushing her hair out of her face. Issac visibly flinches at the yelling and slides down against the lockers, pulling his knees to his chest and whining loudly.

   "I don't know what's wrong with him!" Stiles yells, then he turns to Issac, "Hey! Issac, bud, I don't what the fuck is wrong with you, but we're sort of trying to stop a pack of alpha's and a crazy serial killer! So could you please stop crying and get up? Please!"

Issac just cries louder and wraps his arms around himself tighter, "Da-da!" He sobs, bringing his fingers to his lips and gently sucking, in an attempt to calm himself. He doesn't know why sucking on his fingers soothes him so much, but it does, and with his favorite pacifier at home, and his Daddy no where in sight with his extra one, his fingers well have to do.

   "Do you think we should call Scott?" Lydia asks, rasing an eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah, Scott." Stiles nods and pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts before clicking on "bsf." He held it to his ear for a moment before Scott answered,

"Stiles? What's wrong?" 

"Um, something's going on with Issac, he's crying and asking for his dad, and sucking on his fingers? It's just me and Lydia here, and I think he had a panic attack and he's acting like a baby? I don't know what to do!"

"Shit! I'm not even in school right now, i'm with Derek!"

"What's going on?" Lydia interrupts, looking pointedly at Stiles.

"Hold on!" He yells, and Issac flinches again, whining louder.

"Hey, stop yelling! You're gonna scare him even more, let me talk to him. Put me on speaker."

Stiles lifts the phone from his ear and presses the speaker button.

"You're on speaker Scotty!"

"Hey Issac, baby, you okay?"

"Da'y!"

"Hey sweetheart, how old are you?"

Issac doesn't answer, instead he just stares blankly at the phone.

"Are you two? Stiles, I need you tell me if he shakes his head, whines, anything that might mean no, or anything that might mean yes."

"He shook his head." Stiles tells him after a pause.

"One, are you one?"

"He said yes."

"Fuck! Okay. Stiles, I need you to go to my locker, open it, and grab the green pacifier and the stuffed animal that's in the front pouch of my backpack. I know it's weird, but please just do it. Lydia, can you please stay with him, take the phone and just hold it while I talk to him? Please! The twins are on their way, he'll go with them, and then they'll take him here."

"Okay, yeah, that's fine. Here lydia!" Stiles hands the phone to Lydia and runs to Scott's locker, anxiety eating him up inside. Lydia, helpless, clueless, and not good with kids, looks around for a moment before deciding to sit down, leaving a large gap between her and Issac.

"Hey baby boy, Dada and Mama are coming. Stiles is getting Dottie and your paci."

"Mama!" Issac sounds terrified, like the smallest disturbance will set him off, but there's something else there too, Scott thinks it's sounds like confusion, or maybe even a little bit of helpless obliviousness.

"Yeah, Mama." Scott chuckles and Lydia can almost hear his smile.

"Mama!" He says again, this time louder, and with more of a whine. He wants his Mama, and he wants him now.

"They're coming baby."

   Issac's lip trembles, and his eyes began to water again, he's on the edge of a having a full blown tantrum in the middle of the hallway during school and he's about to be pushed all the way off.

"M-mama!" He yells again, a few tears began to fall down his face, he's angry now.

"Scott! What am I supposed to do? He looks like he's about to start crying again?" She's frantic, face twisting into a panicked filled expression, and Isaac can feel her panic too, it makes him whine louder, and Lydia panics more.

"Issac! Mama is coming soon, deep breathes baby."

Scott wishes he could help, wishes he could jump through the phone and wrap Isaac in his arms, he wants to hold him until he's asleep, and his arms give out. He knows that's all Isaac really wants, he just wants to be held, and fed, and rocked to sleep, he wants to see his Daddy, and he wants to cuddle with Mama, it's basic, it's what he wants everyday. Lydia and Stiles don't know that.

They don't know that he likes to be held in your lap, and bury his face in the space between your neck and collarbone. They don't know that when he's so little, he gets cold, and he has to wear a onesie because if he doesn't, it reminds him of the freezer. They don't know that his favorite pacifier is the one with a blue background and a picture of a dinosaur. They don't know that when he gets cranky and clingy like this, he's hungry, and when he's hungry he'll probably have an accident, so he needs a diaper just in case.

   Scott and Lydia don't that when he gets like this, and his caregivers aren't there, he'll scream until he throws up, and then he'll go into drop. Scott wouldn't be able to handle it if he did, not again. They don't know what to do, or how to act, but Scott does and it kills him to not be able to do anything about  it.

   Stiles comes back a minute later with the stuffed animal and pacifier, just as Issac gets done screaming for Scott.

"Scott buddy, you gotta tell me what to do here?" Stiles tells him.

"Stiles, take the pacifier and give it to him, then give him the fucking dinosaur."

  Stiles does as told, slipping the pacifier into the little's mouth and pressing the dinosaur into his arms. This soothes Isaac for a couple minutes, long enough for Scott to explain what the fuck is going on. Scott's almost finished explaining when the twins show up. Lydia's telling Isaac some over dramatic version of Tangled, and the boy is giggling at the parts that the red head makes large, over dramatic, gestures at, and frowning when she leans in close and whispers like she's telling a secret. It's kind of a adorable really, for someone who claims to not be good with kids.

   Stiles is sure, from what Scott's saying that Isaac doesn't understand the story, but he seems to think it's incredible when she makes big hand gestures and gets quiet like only he's supposed to know the next part. She's interrupted though, when Ethan walks over, smiling and looking incredibly too friendly for someone who's done some of the things he has. 

   Isaac is ecstatic when he does, gasping and clumsily pushing himself up from against the locker.

"Mama!" He shrieks, making grabby hands at the older boy.

"Hey sweetheart!" Ethan greets, reaching down and lifting the little up off the—in his opinion—much too dirty ground. Isaac wraps his arms around Ethan's neck and rests his head on his shoulder.

"Mama." He says again, much quieter than before, like he's telling a secret. Ethan feels like he's going to melt.

"Aiden, you gonna come say hi? Or just sweet talk Scott into fucking you later?" He interrupts the conversation the two are having over the phone, and makes a face at his brother. Lydia gags, and Stiles goes bright red. Aiden whispers something into the phone that he doesn't bother to listen for and then he's walking over to the other two boys.

"Hi baby." Aiden waves and gently brushes a loose curl off his forehead.

"Dada." He whispers, and weakly reaches a hand out for him, fingers curling at attempt to grab him.

"Right here bug." Aiden assures him grabbing his hand and pressing a gentle kiss to it. It was Isaac's turn to burn red and hide his face away.

"Can you say hi sweetheart?" Ethan asks, kissing his forehead. Isaac doesn't say anything just looks at him for a moment and curls his fingers again. Aiden grins brightly and turns to the two teenagers sitting behind them.

"We have to go. He's kind of, ya know, panicked." He informs them.

"Yeah, yeah. We'll see you later." Stiles waves them off with a grin and a roll of his eyes.

"Bye bye Dia!" Isaac waves lightly and smiles at the red head.

Stiles thought Lydia would scream, Aiden thought she would explode, Ethan thought it was a completely normal reaction to Isaac's adorableness.

Lydia squealed and smiled at him, "Bye Isaac! I'll see you soon." She waved them off.

Ethan pressed another kiss to his head, "You're so sweet baby." He whispered.

"Daddy comein'?" The little asks, voice trembling.

"We're gonna go see Daddy okay?" Aiden tells him.

"See Daddy. Go go!" He claps his hands together and squeals excitedly. Lydia does scream that time.

Chapter Text

"Daddy! Daddy! Get up! Wanna play! Time to get up!" Liam is practically shaking with excitement for the coming events of the day.

Theo is not. He would rather lay in bed all day, cuddling his baby and watching child cartoons that he has no interest in but can't turn off because Liam's little giggles and gasps are too adorable to risk loosing for the sake of his sanity.

Even if the beginning of Bubble Guppies playing on the T.V for the fifth time that day makes him want to punch a hole in the t.v; watching Liam point at the screen and answer questions and clap when he gets them right, is much too breath takingly cute to ever try and stop. Lucky for him, Liam did not want to cuddle in bed and watch Bubble Guppies, he wanted to get up and play and run around and do everything that Theo swore he would never do before eight am and a cup of coffee.

He groans and rolls over, "It's too early Guppy. Daddy's sleeping, Guppy's sleeping." His voice is rough from sleeping, and somewhere in the back of his mind, big Liam says, "Hot hot hot." Little Liam just wants to play.

"Nuh-uh! Guppy's 'wake! Daddy talking so Daddy 'wake too! Now up! Up! Up!" Liam demands, hands on his hips and lips pursed.

"Baby it's too early to play!" Theo has no intention of leaving this bed at- he opens one eye to peak at the clock- SIX THIRTY? In the morning.

"No! Pease! Up! Come on Daddy! Uncle Zac and Aunt Ally coming over wif Scott! Gots ta get ready for dem! Come on!" Liam shakes him dramatically and sighs loudly, because when he sighs Daddy knows he's upset. He doesn't know how, Daddy says it's because Daddies just know when their babies are upset.

Maybe Daddy can teach him later, when he takes a bath so he's all clean to play.

"Baby, something wrong?" Daddy asks, rolls over so he's on his back and Liam can properly see his face.

"Yeah! Daddy no get up!" He's so bored sitting here! He wants to go play and eat breakfast and get out all his brand new fishes and sharks to show Scott, not sit on the bed in his jammies all day! Oh! And he wants to get dressed! Daddy got him a new Nemo shirt and he really wants to wear it!

"Why is it so important I get up right now sweetheart?" Daddy's voice sounds really soft and gentle and warm and he kind of wants to curl up against Daddy's side and hide his face in his chest. Let Daddy do whatever he has to before Scott gets there, but he doesn't because Daddy asked a question, and Scott's coming soon.

"Take care of me Daddy!" Daddy has to know that already, he's super smart, he's just being silly probably.

"Of course I have to take care of you! You're my Guppy!" Daddy's voice is still soft and he really wants to curl up next to him.

"Love you Daddy. Something wrong though." He whispers, Daddy's probably gonna think he's a cry baby. He doesn't really want to tell him, but he has to, because Daddy will make it better, he makes everything better.

"What's wrong sweet boy?" Daddy looks even more comfy than before when he was just asking him about sleep because his eyes look friendly and his lips are curled into a soft smile and his body is relaxed. Suddenly he's cold and Daddy's always warm, and something is wrong but he doesn't know what, and he really wants a hug.

"I dunno Daddy! Feel bad! Don' wanna feel bad!" He really doesn't want to feel bad, it's supposed to be a fun day! He's not supposed to cry and he's not supposed to feel bad! So why does he?

"Hey, it's alright. C'mere sweet heart!" Daddy opens his arms and he's really grateful because hugs make it better. He lets himself fall into Daddy's arms and be wrapped up tight.

"It's alright sweetheart, you're allowed to feel bad." Daddy whispers, but he's not listening, because he's crying and he doesn't know why and he just wants to not feel bad.

"Let's go get your paci and find Bun-Bun baby." Theo sits up, Liam still in his arms and tosses his legs over the side of the bed, adjusts Liam on his hip and then stands up.

"Daddy!" Liam curls his hands around the fabric of Theo's shirt, as if he'd float away if he let go. It probably felt like he would.

"Daddy's here Li. We're gonna go get Bun-Bun and your Bubble Guppy paci. You're alright." His heart aches for his baby, who's nothing more than maybe two or three at the moment, with pretty green eyes that go wide in adoration everytime Theo cares for him, and soft hands which cling to him in a silent promise to never let go, even in the darkest of hours on the darkest of nights.

His baby with his little voice that asks for cuddles kisses, stories, snacks, and sings along with theme songs and answers Mickey's questions with full confidence. His baby with a heart so big he can barely contain himself. His baby who offers affection and love and care to anyone who needs it without expecting anything in return. His baby who would give his soul away for someone who wouldn't bat an eye if it was the other away around. His baby who's sweet and gentle, kind and caring, forgiving and loving, and everything he wishes he could be. His baby who's the purest there is, and still gets beaten down again and again until, finally, he doesn't get back up.

"Alright Liam, here you go sweet boy." He gently slips the blue pacifier in between Liam's lips and smiles sweetly at him. Liam sniffles and lets himself, be carried into the living room, where his Bunny sat on the couch, waiting for him.

"Hey angel, look it's Bun-Bun! You wanna go get Bun-Bun?" He tilts his chin down and peeks at the baby.

"Daddy." He whispers, whines when Theo starts walking to the couch.

"I'm coming with you baby," he tells him. Theo carefully sets Liam down on the couch and presses Bun-Bun into his waiting hands. He waits for a moment as Li adjusts himself so he's laying down with his head on the arm rest and his legs curled up against his stomach, Bun-Bun wrapped protectively against his chest. When Liam seems satisfied with his position he crouches down in front of the couch, now able to fully see Liam's face.

"I'm gonna go get you a clean diaper, a baba and blankets for Liam and Daddy to share," he smoothes back Liam's messy hair, "Would you like me to put on a show while you wait sweetness?" Liam's eyes gloss over and his hands scramble to find some part of his Daddy's body. Daddy can't leave him. He feels bad, and scared, and a little bit floaty and he doesn't want to be alone.

"Nuh-uh," he shakes his head as best he can with half his face pressed against the arm of the couch.

"I'll be right back baby boy, I promise. Just need to get a few things from our room and the kitchen. I'm not leaving you alone. Now, would you like Bubble Guppies? Or maybe Monsters Inc," he knows Liam needs assurance right now, and praise, and his favorite show to distract him from any negative thoughts or feelings he might be having at the moment, and Theo is more than happy to give all that and more.

Only, Liam also needs a diaper change so he doesn't get a rash, and food so he's not starving, and his weighted blanket to help ground him, and Theo's first priority is always Liam's physical health. Then when he's sure Liam is as comfortable as he can be, he'll provide all the support Liam needs emotionally and mentally.

"T'ay. Guppies. Pease?" Liam whispers, sniffles and blinks a few times, just to clear his teary eyes.

"There's my Guppy. I'll put on an episode and then go get everything. I'll be back before you know it." Theo kisses his forehead and smooths his hair back once more. He stands up and stretches his arms above his head, spins around, grabs the remote, flicks on the T.V, finds a random episode about crabs and then travels quickly back to their bedroom. 

He grabs a diaper, and wipes, and tucks them under his arm, then grabs Liam's weighted blanket and tosses it over his shoulder. He leaves the room and walks down the hall to the kitchen, where he makes a small bottle of milk a little over six ounces for Liam to drink. When he comes back to Liam, the boy is still curled up on the couch, sucking on his pacifier and holding onto Bun-Bun for dear life. Looking incredibly fragile.

"Hey baby, I got your blanket, do you want it while I change you?" He offers, holds up the baby blue blanket for him to see.

Liam blinks and looks away from the T.V, "Dress?" The blonde asks, word slurred around his pacifier. 

Theo chuckles and shakes his head, "No love, just a diaper change. Is that okay?" He would change him anyways, but he still wanted to ask.

"Tay. Change. Daddy sit afer(after)," the boy decides, sitting up and looking at Theo with wide eyes.

"Of course i'll sit with you after," he lays Liam down on the couch and begins to change him. Liam is so compliant which makes it much easier to swap out the diapers and wipe him off than it normally is. He supposes it's because of the episode he was having at the moment, but that didn't stop the concern from pushing full steam ahead into his chest. It was so unlike Liam to sit still and let anyone, even Theo, move his body around in every which direction, without even a peep or hum, or noise of disapproval. It was a little scary. 

Liam just looked so lost and confused, maybe even a little dazed. Small. He looked small. Which Liam looking small in itself wasn't unusual, in fact he looked small more often than not, but this was different. It was a kind of small that didn't mean childish adoration or love. It was the kind of small you see when looking at a wounded animal surrounded by healthy strangers with hands perfect for squeezing the last breath from your lungs. How often does Liam Dunbar, ticking time bomb, werewolf, first beta of a true alpha, king of lacrosse, look like a wounded animal ready to die at the hands of creatures capable of unspeakable things?

Never.

He never looks like this. Not even on his darkest of hours on his darkest of nights. He never looks at Theo like he's about to say goodbye. Not anymore. Not like before when the heart beating in his chest was an echo of his worst nightmares. Not when he was nothing more than an experiment in a lab. Liam Dunbar did not look at him like he was a monster, and he can't start now.

"Daddy. Done?" Liam asks, staring up at him from his place on the couch.

"Oh yeah sorry baby," he shakes his head and pulls up Liam's pants.

"Cud pease?" Liam's lips wobble and he blinks a few times.

"I always have time for cuddles Guppy. You want your baba?" He grabs the bottle off the coffee table.

"Mhm. Daddy do?" He asks.

"Of course sweetness," Theo lifts Liam up and sits him on his lap, supports his head with one arm and leans back against the cushions so Liam's body can rest against his chest.

"Here you go Guppy," Theo pulls out the pacifier and replaces it with the nipple of the bottle. 

Liam closes his eyes and begins sucking softly, he looks more at peace than he did when Theo prepared an entire bubble bath for him, complete with rose petals, oils, and of course Theo.

"Such a sweet boy," he murmurs, just loud enough for Liam to hear. Liam hums in response, cheeks flushing red.

It makes him smirk. 

When Scott, Allison, and Isaac show up, it's around three p.m. Theo had planned on calling and letting them know that Liam was having a rough day and they could reschedule for another time, but Liam almost threw a fit at the suggestion Scott come another day. They stay until almost seven, and Scott and Liam are adorable together. Even though Liam is feeling a bit smaller than usual, Scott just takes his hand and says they can play with stuffies instead of action figures. It's about the sweetest thing Theo has ever witnessed.

Chapter Text

 Liam whines softly as he tucks himself under Scott's arm, "Daddy?"

Scott hums in acknowledgement, rubbing his hand down the boys side.

"Mama comin'?" He tilts his head up towards Scott, doe eyes staring expectantly up at him.

"Yeah baby, Mama will be here soon. You're alright," Scott grabs the remote from next to his bed and flicks on the t.v., still moving his hand up and down Liam's side.

Be soon?" His voice shakes.  

"He'll be here little one, just a few more minutes, you're okay," the alpha gently pats Liam's back, a soft pattern to soothe the younger boys racing heart.

"Wan' Bun-Bun," his voice cracks, a tell tale sign of what's to come.

"Alright, do you remember where you left her munchkin?" Scott asks, he's calm, a contrast to Liam's panic.

"Not know!" It sounds like more of a whine then an actual answer.

"Bun-Bun?!" His bottom lip juts out, eyes frantically searching the room around him for his beloved Bunny.   

"Liam, we'll find her, I'm sure she's probably just down stairs. I don't think we brought her with us to the bath," he doesn't want to raise his voice, for fear that it might send the boy into a full blown panic attack.

"Get Bun-Bun p'ease? I good boy, no take 'way!" His blue eyes gloss over, unshed tears waiting to fall.

"I'm not taking Bun-Bun away, I promise. We just have to find her love. We'll go downstairs and look," Scott gently pulls his arm out from under Liam and pushes himself off the bed.     

"Where go?" Liam asks.

"C'mere baby," Scott holds his arms out and the blonde is quick to climb into them, wrapping his arms around Scott's neck and his legs around his waist. Scott walks them downstairs and flicks on a light.

"Daddy! Couch!" He points to the old couch in the middle of the room where the missing stuffed animal is sitting.

Scott chuckles softly, "I see her munchkin," he walks them over to the couch, "Here you go Li," he grabs the old rabbit off the couch and places it in Liam's eager hands.  

"Tank' 'ou Daddy!" Liam grins and squeezes the stuffie, hiding his face in it's soft fur.

"You're welcome sweetheart, you want your cup?" He asks, walking the boy into the kitchen.

"Cup," he nods.

"Okay, we'll get your cup and your paci and then we can pick a movie baby?" He's always given Liam a play by play of what was going to happen. Stiles did too, they found it helped calm him further, so he didn't have to worry about what was going to happen next.

"Mama home then?" The baby guesses.

"Yeah, Mama will be home then," he confirms.  

Liam seems content with that answer, once more burying his face in Scott's shoulder. It takes Scott a total of ten  minutes to get his cup from the kitchen and his pacifier from the bathroom. Five to have his PJ Masks cup filled half way with warm milk, and five to carry them into the bathroom where they left his bubble guppies pacifier.   

"All set to find a movie little one?" He asks once they've settled on the bed again, and Liam is once more tucked underneath Scott's arm.

"Fishy!" He squeals, kicking his feet against Scott's side in excitement.

His eyes widen as he looks up to Scott, "M'sorry! Don' take way paci or Bun-Bun! Be good! M'sorry m'sorry m'sorry!" He rushes out squeezes the blue stuffed animal to his chest and clutching the pacifier in his hand.   

"What's this about taking away Bun-Bun? Why so scared bug?" Of course, Stiles, with the perfect timing.

Liam gasps, head spinning to look at Stiles, and Scott shrugs, shaking his head with raised eyes brows.

"Kick Daddy! Was accident did' mean to! P'omise! No take 'way Bun-Bun. Be good!" He's still squeezing the Bunny and clutching the pacifier, only this time his hands are shaking and tears are once more threating to fall.   

Stiles kicks off his shoes and slips his backpack off his shoulders, let's it fall to the ground with a soft thump. Then he's over on the bed, cupping Liam's face with both of his hands and wiping his tears with the pads of his thumbs.

"Bug, it's okay it was an accident. We're not taking away Bun-Bun, or your pacifier. We're not mad," Stiles assures.

"No mad?" Liam sniffles.

"No love, we're not mad. I got you something, if you want it?" He let's his hands fall to the bed.

"Mhm! Wanna see!" The beta nods rapidly, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his Owlette onesie.  

"Okay, close your eyes!" Stiles backs off the bed slowly, checking to make sure he wasn't peeking, then he opened his backpack and pulled out a brand new bear stuffed animal.

"And Open!" He thrusts the bear out in front of him and Liam's eyes widen.

"Gots new Teddy?" He grins and reaches out for it.

"All for you baby!" Stiles ruffles his hair and chuckles as the boy mumbles thanks over and over again.  

There's a moment of silence before Liam drops the bear, bunny, and pacifier, his attention now on Stiles,

"Mama," he whispers.

Stiles grins and opens his arms, "Hi love." The blonde throws himself at Stiles, hugging him tightly and hiding his face in his neck.

"Miss 'ou Mama," he mumbles.

"I missed you too baby. So much!" Stiles rubs circles on his back, and runs a hand through his hair.

"No mo'e 'eave. 'Ou say wif 'ous bug! Fo'eve'," he decides firmly.

"Yeah I'll stay with my bug forever," he whispers, stroking Liam's hair.

Later that night, when the credits of Finding Nemo were rolling, and Liam's back was pressed against Stiles chest, his feet tangled with Scott's, one hand tightly hugging his Bunny to his chest; his unnamed bear laying above his head, his other hand wrapped around Scott's arm, and his pacifier in his mouth, lightly sucking: Stiles may or may not have sent Lydia a lengthy message about just how adorable little Liam was.   

When Liam wakes up the next morning, everything is still fuzzy. He's cold, a little hungry, a whole lot sleepy still, and incredibly uncomfortable in his dirty diaper. He whines softly, pawing at his Daddy's arm, Scott stirs lightly and tugs on the blanket, not awake. He whines again, eyes watering with tears, Daddy has to wake up.  

Five minutes later and the whining has turned into crying, that's what gets Scott up. The older man groans and sits up turning to face the little.

"Hey baby, it's okay," Scott whispers, gently rubbing Liam's arm.

"Sweetheart, how old are you?" Scott asks. Liam whines, and sniffles in response.

"I see, alright, we'll get up and change your diaper, then we'll go see if Mama's downstairs?" Scott tosses the blanket off his legs and stands up, then he lifts Liam up and carries him over to the changing table. He pops in a clean pacifier from the little compartment on the side and grabs a new diaper and wipes.   

He quickly changes the boys diaper, and buttons his onesie up, then lifts the boy up and carries him downstairs. Liam is half asleep when Scott sets him down in his high chair, so it comes as a shock when he no longer feels the warmth and comfort of his Daddy. He whines loudly and looks around until his eyes land on Scott and Stiles talking at the counter. Scott smiles fondly and walks over, he lifts Liam up and shushes him softly.

"Alright baby. Mama's making your bottle. You're alright," he soothes, rubbing his back.    

 Liam closes his eyes again, drifts in and out of sleep surrounded by the warmth of his Daddy and comfort of Mama and home. Stiles smiles at the sight of his two favorite people in the whole world, and hands the bottle to Scott.

"Someone's tired still huh?" He teases, gently brushing the hair away from Liam's half closed eyes.

"I guess so, must've had a hard night with all those cuddles he got," Scott joins in on the lighthearted teasing and they both laugh.  

"I'll go grab a bib if you want to get him settled on the couch?" Stiles offers, heading towards the stairs.

"Sure, I'll turn on Bubble Guppies and get him situated," the alpha agrees and heads towards the couch, Liam in his arms. He sits them down and pulls Liam away from his chest, then he turns him so his head is resting on Scott's arm and his legs are stretched across his lap onto the couch. Liam whines and presses his cheek against Scott's chest, trying to get comfortable again.   

Scott chuckles, and rubs his arm lightly, "Don't fall asleep yet bug, Mama's coming with your bib so you can eat," he tells the boy.

"Ma," Liam nods his head and keeps his eyes open until Stiles returns with a dinosaur themed bib.

"Here ya go Scotty! Enjoy your bottle baby," Stiles helps Scott get the bib around his neck, and showers Liam in praise when he allows them to do as they please.   

The blonde doesn't seem to care, instead pointing at the Bubble Guppie's bottle on the coffee table.

"He acts like we starve him!" Stiles comments, passing Scott the bottle and laughing when Liam gladly begins sucking it down.   

"I thought you were putting on Bubble Guppies?" Stiles questions, staring at the black TV screen.

"Oh yeah! I forgot! You wanna grab it and then come sit down with us?" Scott gives his best puppy dog eyes and when Stiles sits down, his face lights up like a christmas tree.

"Jeez babe you act like I don't give you affection. What are you touch starved?" The other boy shoves his shoulder playfully and laughs when Scott does it back.   

Liam doesn't know what's going on really, his eyes are closed and he's content with the bottle between his lips, but he can hear Mama and Daddy laughing, so it makes him happy too. He likes when Mama and Daddy feed him and cuddle him. He kicks his leg out slightly when he feels someone touch him, it tickles, and he almost let's go of the bottle to laugh, almost.  

Instead he reaches one hand out for Mama to hold, pleased with the amount of cuddles he's receiving at the moment. Liam is ecstatic when he feels Mama grab his hand, he squeezes in return, so Mama knows. He squirms in Scott's arms when Mama squeezes back, releases the bottle from his mouth and reaches for Mama to hold him instead. Scott gasps in betrayal when Liam leaves his arms and gets comfy in Stiles'.

"Wow! I see how it is! Must like Mama better than me!" He's teasing, like always, Stiles knows that, and he knows that, but Liam on the other hand, fully believes he's hurt Scott's feelings somehow. His eyes widen and he shakes his head, he doesn't know what he did or why Daddy is sad, but he wants him to know that he didn't mean to.

"Nuh-uh! Da! 'Ove!" Liam manages to get the words out with great difficulty, but if he focused hard enough, he could say a few things.   

Scott's face softens and he smiles brightly, "Aww buggy. I love you too." He kisses Liam forehead and stands up to find the remote Stiles never grabbed when he sat down.

Liam, thoroughly confused tilts his head and looks at Stiles, he points at Scott and asks, "'Appy?"

Stiles lets out a soft awe and nods his head, "Daddy is very happy Li," he confirms.

Liam claps his hands together and bounces slightly, "'Appy!" He giggles. Stiles thought he might pass out from just how adorable the reaction was.

"You're so sweet baby, are you still hungry?" Stiles asks.   

Liam thinks for a minute then blinks at him.

"You want some applesauce?" He clarifies. Liam shakes his head and relaxes against Stiles chest as Scott flicks on the TV with the remote he just found. He giggles and claps his hands when Bubble Guppies comes on.

"This is your favorite huh baby?" Scott kisses his forehead and sits down next to them, leans his head against Stiles shoulders and places Liam's legs on his lap.

"Fishie!" He laughs and nods in answer to Scott.

Liam looks around for a moment and then looks up at Scott, "Bun?" He asks. "You want Bun-Bun?"   

Liam nods, "Uh-huh!"

Scott just can't seem to stop smiling this morning, "I"ll go get her sweetness." He remembers from earlier in the morning that he had left Bun-Bun on the changing table, with Liam's pacifier right next to it. Liam is always half awake in the morning, big or little, he never really notices if he leaves behind a thing or two, like Bun-Bun and his pacifier. The thought makes Scott chuckle as he  heads up the stairs and into their bedroom. He smiles triumphantly when the pacifier and stuffed rabbit are sat right where he thought they would be.   

He grabs both items and makes his way back to the living room where Liam is sucked into the Bubble Guppies episode playing on screen.

"Look what I got!" He waves the bunny in front of Liam and laughs when the baby jumps at it. A minute or two later the Bunny is pressed into his arms and the pacifier is in his mouth. Scott's back in his original position underneath Liam's legs. The three of them are content, pressed together on the couch, sleepy, with mermaids chasing each other on the screen. In Scott's opinion, the morning is perfect.

Chapter Text

On an old wooden desk, beneath layers of grime, and important papers, is four letters carved there by a butter knife the size of a average male hand. 'Theo' It says. The handiwork of a ten year old boy. 

The desk was the first thing he'd received upon his arrival with the Dread Doctors. It was old, and clearly second hand, but familiar. Familiar in the way it would be to any school-boy his age. It was about as wide as the length of a typical female leg, and as long as an umbilical cord. It opened up enough that it held about two size 10/12 t-shirts, and two pairs of size 10/12 pants. Now it holds all of his trinkets and souvenirs that he's collected over the years, if he were to guess it could probably just hold a single pair of his jeans. 

The butter knife came a day or two later. The Surgeon had tossed it beside him one afternoon, and said a single word, "Practice." Young Theo was uncaring of the instructions the doctors gave, inexperience and a bit of youthful innocence helped with that. Instead of practicing anything the doctors probably wanted him to practice, he spent about two days carving his name into the wooden surface of the desk. The Surgeon never mentioned the butter knife again. 

The importance of this? 

Comparable to that of a human appendix. Just a floating memory, that even though it was deemed important enough to stick in his brain, he could live without. There's lots of things he could live without, he knows because most of it, he does. He keeps a list, one of the papers covering his messily carved name. So far the list is the pole to pole length of a human kidney. 

Things I Could Live Without 

1. An appendix

2. One Kidney

3. Talking

4. Frequent Showers

5. Proper nutrition in a diet

6. A real mattress

7. Affection 

8. My own heart

Next to his corner of the bunker is another failed experiment. It's a pathetic pile of death, sour scented, and waxy skinned. Death, he's come to discover, is not the end of a person as an active being. Corpses, do a lot of rather gross behaviors. They shit themselves, their skin shrinks, they bloat, they decompose. As it seems, this–whatever it's supposed to be– has decided, as a final fuck the world for doing this to me, to empty it's bowls right in front of the only spot in this godforsaken place that he can claim as his own. 

Fuck. 

The smell is pungent, it makes him want to claw off his own skin, and replace it with someone else's. He hopes the smell doesn't linger on his bed. The cleaning process is usually longer in situations like his current, it takes more time, more effort, and more patients then he normally has. The creature, probably once human, now part eagle, and part wendigo, some curiosities are better left unexplored. Probably a good thing it's dead now. A far better fate than the one he's suffered. He starts with removing the body itself, he lifts it off the ground, carries it like a bride into an incredibly large trash can kept behind a table full of chemicals. Bleach, Sulfur-Monoxide, and maybe some kind of acid. It's all the labels he can read as he passes it. When the body is gone, he looks over what's left to clean, urine, and feces. 

The urine is easier to clean than the feces. He keeps two lists of the materials he needs. Both lists are about half the size of an average kidney. 

Urine

1. Warm Water

2. White Vinegar

3. Baking Soda

4. Laundry Detergent

5. Sponge 

Feces

1. Cold Water

2. White Vinegar 

3. Protease Enzyme Cleaner

4. Mild Soap

5. Scrub brush

He begins the clean, it's long, and tedious, but it's worth it. In the end it smells a little less like death, and it feels less like he needs to claw off his own skin. He's sweaty, and disgusting when all is said and done. The doctors have little use for him now that he's grown, is growing. His feet hang off the operating table, the ankle straps wrap around his shins, the ones meant for his wrists stay secure around the middle of his forearm.  It's exciting, while his powers rest like stagnant water, his body doesn't. He gets taller, his muscles stronger, his legs move faster, he's becoming powerful, and he loves it. To the doctors, he's nothing but a weapon of manipulation, a pawn to do their dirty work, and when there's no dirty work to be done, he's their janitor.

Today, Theo killed.

His claws ripped through the body of a young teenage girl.  Death seems to follow him, a constant shadow. It's presence is there, even when he's stripped of everything he is, and reduced to just flesh and bone. The basics of his survival depends solely on the death of another failed experiment. They die. Theo survives another day. Death has become something of a friend to him, loyal to the very end.

But death is dangerous. It has sharp edges, cuts deadly deep. Leaves wounds even the supernatural can't heal. Death takes, and takes, and takes. Never satisfied. 

Today, Theo killed. A Young teenage girl, dead on the side of the street. Road kill. Her name was Arya. She was pretty, amber hair, freckled cheeks, beautiful blue eyes. Arya was smart, successfull in her high-school career. Some people are too smart, too successfull. They become a threat. In this case, the threat had to be eliminated. So Arya died. 

Death is a heavy companion to have. Those it befriends are often left shells of the person they once were. In Theo's case, this is the person he has always been, always will be. 

A fantastic liar. Master manipulator. Murderer. Lab rat.

Chapter Text

"Daddy?" Nolan whispered as he walked through the door. It wasn't uncommon for him to show up at Brett and Theo's dorm unannounced and little. In fact it happened more often than not most days. Especially after a particularly rough day in his classes, or with Gabe. Brett had noticed their relationship had recently seemed more strained and tense than ever before. He would have to sit them down if they didn't try and work through it on their own first.

"Hi bambi, i'm in the kitchen, just getting a snack!" He can hear Nolan mutter okay and shrug off his shoes. There's a moment of quiet shuffling and gentle claps before Nolan appears in the archway of the kitchen.

"Bad day Daddy," he mumbles, arms clasped behind his back and head down.

Brett nods and twists the lid closed on the peanut butter jar then he turns to face his little, "Something happen bambi?" He's really asking if someone hurt him, then Brett would have to hurt them. Not something he likes to do often, but he would for his baby.

Nolan chews on his bottom lip, and shrugs. He notices then that Nolan reeks of the sour scent he recognizes as anxiety. Brett can also pick up the remnants of salty tears, and the unmistakable scent of cheap cologne, dirt, and wood. Nolan is covered in Gabe.

"Bambi?" He raises an eyebrow and Nolan glances up at him.

"Cried in class. Small. Call Papa. Mad a' me." Nolan sniffles out and the steady beat of his heart spikes, faster and more intense. He's not lying, he wouldn't be so torn up if he was. The only other thing Brett can recall making his heart rate spike like that was fear. He was afraid. Of what? Brett didn't know.

He takes a step forward and gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind Nolan's ear. He refuses to acknowledge the small flinch away from his hand, at least not yet.

"What did Papa say to you Nol?" He asks. Brett feels the anger starting to simmer underneath the concern, and worry, and urge to slip into their normal routine. The one that consists of a snack, some Daddy and Nolan time, dinner, a bath, and finally bed time. Instead they're standing in the walkway of the kitchen, staring at each other, Nolan with his trembling lips and watery eyes, and Brett with his clenched fist and pounding heart.

"Say 'top bein' baby. Bad for leavin' class. Gots ta not be bad. Get t'ouble with 'ou! An'- not 'posed ta tell 'ou. Papa say so 'm sorry." Nolan wipes at his eyes and lets out a small whine.

"Bambi, you're not in trouble. You'll never be in trouble for being sad, or slipping. Not with me, ever. You are my baby boy, and I love you so much, big or little." Brett tilts his chin up to look Nolan in the eyes and gently cups his cheek.

"Don't cry angel." He whispers, wipes Nolan's tears with the pad of his thumb. He smiles softly and kisses the tip of his nose.

It's worth it to see the huge grin spread across his baby's face.

"Love 'ou too Daddy." Nolan giggles and lets Brett pull him into a hug. It ends with him snuggly tucked in his Daddy's arms, bottom resting on his hip and arms wrapped loosely around Daddy's neck, his head on Daddy's shoulder. It's very comfy if you ask him.

"You hungry baby? Want a snack?" Daddy carries him over to the fridge. He really likes fruit, always has, especially apples. Those were his favorite, even better if they had peanut butter!

He nods, looks up at Daddy, "Apps," he decides. Nolan kicks his feet excitedly when Daddy grabs them out of the fridge.

"Careful Noly, don't want to hurt yourself, or Daddy, gentle with your legs." Daddy reminds softly, much nicer than the way Papa reminds him. Papa likes to yell at him, a lot, especially when he does something bad, which feels like all the time. Papa never seems to like anything he does, sometimes he hits him, like today. He leaves a bright red mark on his bottom, or his back, where ever he could reach, but never his face.

When he hits him, when he yells, when he glares and grumbles, and ignores his cries, he still never fails to remind him that without Papa he would be in trouble. He would be left alone, would be nothing, so he can't leave him, because what would he do without Papa.

Sometimes Papa confuses him. When Daddy's there he never yells, never screams at him to put his shoes by the door, or clean up his toys. Papa never raises a hand or narrows his eyes, never does anything but smile and laugh and praise him. Sometimes he thinks that Papa will go back to gentle whispers and soothing words, and giggles. It never happens, never goes back to cuddles before bed and gentle kisses on the head. But he knows Papa is right, without him, he wouldn't have Daddy. Without him he wouldn't have Lydia or Liam, or Theo. Without him he would just be a baby, lost and by himself, so he can't leave him.

What would Daddy do if he did?

Brett doesn't realize that Nolan is sniffling until he's finished cutting the apples. It's not easy to do with one hand, so he's not as focused on Nolan as he normally would be. He drops the knife in the sink and places Nolan on the counter.

"Bambi what's wrong?" He asks, slips between his legs and places his hands on his hips.

"Hurts Daddy." Nolan lets out between hiccups.

"What hurts baby?" Brett runs through a list of people who have said something rude or nasty to Nolan in the past week. It wasn't long but there were a few people who had a bone to pick with his baby.

He doesn't think any of them would dare lay a hand on Nolan, not with himself constantly ready to throw anyone who dare look at him wrong into the ground. He remembers after a moment that Nolan mentioned something about Papa telling him not to say something in front of him. He doesn't get a chance to ask because Nolan is holding his arm up to Brett's fave.

"Look. Arm. Hurts lots Daddy," he says. Brett's face softens. From furrowed eye brows and a scrunched nose, to concerned eyes and soft frown.

He carefully rolls down Nolan's sweater sleeve and turns the blonde's arm over so his palm was face up,

"Noly what's this?" He asks, rubbing his thumb over a large, bruise in the shape of a hand print. The anger that was only simmering before was now boiling, as he stared at the shades of blue and purple against the pale skin on Nolan's wrist.

"Papa do. Say no tell Daddy, b'oke a rule. Bad boy! M'sorry!" He chokes out.

"Bambi, it's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. You're not a bad boy, and you're not in trouble." Brett leans down and gently presses a kiss to the bruise.

"Papa be mad a' me. Yell. Be mean ta me. Do ouchie 'gain, don't wan him ta do it 'gain!" He rushes out, yanks his arm back and hugs it to his chest.

"Bambi breathe. Papa won't do anything to you, not ever again, alright? You're safe angel." Brett doesn't know if he wants to cry or scream or punch something. But he needs to do something, anything but sit here and watch his baby cry and panic and believe that Gabe would ever lay a hand on him again.

"Breathe with me angel. Remember what Aunt LoLo taught you?" He gently takes Nolan's hands in his own, and closes his eyes.

"In num' four out num' eight." Nolan explains.

"Right. I'll count." Brett began slowly breathing in until he counts to the number four, listening for Nolan to do the same and then begans exhaling until eight. They repeat this a few times until Nolan's breathing has evened out.

"Better Daddy. Huggies p'ease?" He holds up his arms and tilts his head back, looking expectantly up at Brett.

"Of course baby. I'll always give you huggies." He grins and lifts Nolan off the counter, places him on his hip again.

"You're so sweet Bambi." He tells him with a soft smile. He loves watching Nolan's cheeks go red and his lips quirk into a smile.

"Daddy sit on lap eat apps?" Nolan asks, voice muffled by Brett's shoulder.

"Yeah baby, but first lets get you some juice. What kind do you want, we have apple, orange, or grape?" Brett opens the cabinet and grabs down one of Nolan's many superhero themed sippy cups.

"Mmmm.....o'ange!" He decides after a moment of thinking.

"Coming right up sir!" Brett teases, opening the fridge and grabbing the orange juice. He quickly pours the juice into the cup and screws the lid on tight, then he hands it to Nolan and grabs the plate of apples.

"Thank 'ou Daddy!" Nolan grins at him and takes a large drink from his cup.

"You're welcome love. You ready to go eat?" He asks. Nolan nods and giggles.

"You want to watch something while you eat?" Brett takes a step towards the archway between the living room and the kitchen.

"Tay! Ummm what wan' watch Daddy!" Nolan asks, looking up at Brett determinedly.

"How about we watch Scooby Doo?" Brett suggests carrying him to the couch.

 Nolan thinks about it for a minute, "Nuh-uh too 'mall Daddy. Scary. O'ver one pease!" He decides.

"That's okay baby, how old are you?" Brett sits them down and places the plate of apples on the coffee table in front of them.

"Um dis many!" Nolan giggles and holds out three fingers.

"Oh I see, how about Umizoomi's then?" Brett suggests.

"Uh-huh! Zoomi's!" He claps excitedly and takes another sip out of his cup.

Brett smiles at him and grabs the remote, clicks the power button and turns on a repeat of an old episode.

"T'anks Daddy! When LiLi and Feo come home?" Nolan wonders, glancing back at Brett with wide curious eyes.

"I'm not sure sweetie. Soon I bet." He assures, rubbing Nolans' back gently as the episode plays behind them.

"Tay," Nolan looks back at the screen, "'ook! Daddy 'im going 'uper fas'!" Nolan's pointing at the T.V screen, leaning forward slightly, and giggling loudly. It makes Brett smile slightly.

For now he's content in his position, arms wrapped around Nolans' waste while the little boy giggles and squeals at the show. Occasionally he reminds the blonde that there's food on the coffee table for him, and Nolan tells him proudly he knows every time.

Brett knows harder conversations will have to be had in the coming days, about Gabe. About the now clear abuse that has been happening behind his back, what Nolan would like to do next. A million and one things. But for right now, all he really wants to do is sit here, and enjoy the comfort of his boyfriend.

Chapter Text

At first, Derek puts up a struggle. When making out turns into something more, he almost rips her hair out pulling her off. When hands wander too far up his thigh, he kicks and claws to get them off. He screams no, that's he not ready, not yet. She'll never listen, he'll tell her anyway.

He'll tell her over and over, even if she kept going, even if in the end, it only served to hurt him more. He'll tell her again and again, even if it felt like it was his fault, even if he knew he could've stopped this.

He'll tell her over and over, again, and again. She'll never listen. Still, Derek Hale was a fighter, and even Kate Argent couldn't rip that away from him

Now though, when pants are unbuttoned and shirts are lost, he tells her nothing. His claws don't come out, his legs don't kick. He lets her go. Lets her do as she pleases, lets her use him, and take advantage of him. He lets her lie to him, manipulate him until the only thoughts he can think are ones she put inside his head.

Occasionally, when it goes on way past curfew, or the wolfsbane is starting to really bother him, he tries to struggle, but he forgets how. So, after a few desperate cries he looses his voice, and after a kick or two his muscles don't work.

After a few desperate cries, she silences him with her mouth. After a kick or two, the wolfsbane on the ropes digs deeper in his skin. And, after that, he feels like if death came for him, he would go easily without a fight.

Derek, for most of their time together, doesn't fight.

Not anymore. Not like he used to.

Talia Hale likes to believe she is a good mother. She has four amazing children to prove it.

An incredibly smart young women, named Laura Dahlia Hale, just turned nineteen who's about to start her first year of college.

A loving, teenage boy, called Derek Fiorello Hale, sixteen soon to be seventeen in the coming year, who is the high school's star basketball player.

A fierce young girl, known to the world as, Cora Ivy Hale, twelve years old, who is an incredible dancer, top of the class.

Finally, a playful little boy, six years old, and goes by Evander Iris Hale, who's fairly skilled in painting for his age.

Talia, has been a mother for nineteen years, and along the way, she's picked up a few things.

So when Derek starts coming home later than he ever has before, and smelling horrible, she's well aware something is wrong. Her son smells like sadness, he smells like fear, and anxiety. He smells exhausted too. There's physical things too, like the wolfsbane she picks up, or the dried blood under his nails and the dirt everywhere. 

The first few nights it happens, she says nothing, just waits in the living room with a book and a blanket, asks where he's been and nods with a smile when he lies his ass off. He smells like guilt too.

Though, after about a week or two, she corners him in his room. She asks if somethings going on, if he needs to talk. Derek, who in the span of those two weeks, had become quiet and reserved, shrugs, tells her no, and then asks to be left alone.

She respects that, leaves him be. She doesn't ignore it though, every night she's on the couch. Every night they go through the same conversation. Every night, his heart beat rises and she hears his lies and smells his guilt.

She pushes some more after a month, he gives her almost an identical response to the first time she asked. She understands he's not ready to talk, that he needs time.

Talia likes to believe she's a good mother. Only her son's shaking hands, and sleepless nights, seem to tell a different story. One she can't figure out how to read, a book that won't open with no ending in sight.

She's sure her story tells about a helpless mother unsure if her son's in danger, if she should be doing something she's not. One of a mother who doesn't recognize the teenager living in her house.

A story about a mother who misses her son.

After, when it's over, when all is said and done, she leaves him there, on the ground, alone, hands cut loose from rope and legs untied. He feels numb.
  
He pushes himself off the ground after minutes of staring blankly at the sky, begging for someone to end this.

Then he walks home, lifeless and exhausted, hours past curfew, with dry blood on his fingertips and caked under his nails. Dirt everywhere it should never be on a normal day.

He stumbles in the door, barely awake, and his Mom is there, she always asks him where he's been. He lies, just like he does everyday.

"Out. With friends. Got rough with each other. Got scratched up. I'm fine."

He'll always say. His heart will skip and he knows she hears. But she never asks for more than he's willing to share with her. Talia lets him go for the night, knows he needs rest.

Derek never stops feeling numb.

Talia for what it's worth, has been doing everything in her power to try and help Derek. Despite him becoming closed off, and distant, like a shell of the boy he used to be, she never stops trying. She waits on the couch when Derek isn't home by nine thirty, she tells him she loves him every chance she gets, she researches symptoms of depression and anxiety. Talia reaches out to Deaton and asks how she can help him battle this, she takes the email and phone number of a well known supernatural therapist he recommends. 

Her and James decide to bring up the idea of therapy when everyone else is busy outside of the house. They sit down across from him at the table, pull out some notes she took from the women's website, and begin to explain the idea. 

Derek tells them no almost immediately. Refuses to hear them out, and screams at them that he's fine. He leaves in a fit of rage, slamming the door behind him and running as fast as he can. 

Talia decides then and there that her and James are going to investigate and find out what's going on.

Talia Hale is a good mother and she's going to help her son.

On a Tuesday, after his basketball game, when they're done celebrating, when he's alone in the bathroom of the pizza place, she finds him. She uses him. She leaves him on the floor.

He gets up slowly. He wipes his tears. He dries his face. He doesn't bother with the rest of the blood and dirt. He just wants his mom. Wants to go home, and try his hardest to forget her and tonight.

He gathers his equipment, and checks the clock on the wall, it's well past curfew. Derek slips out the back door unnoticed by the staff.

He walks home. He barely remembers doing it, but he must have because eventually he's stumbling through the door to the Hale House. The house where his Mama sits in the living room, patiently waiting for her second eldest to return home to her.

Derek almost drops right then and there when he sees her, because she's Mama, and safe, and home, and she protects him. He wants to, wants to let go of all his responsibilities. He wants to forget about her, forget about how he'll never be able to go back to his favorite pizza shop. Forget about how she ruined his teams win. Forget about how every time he puts on his jersey he won't remember his friends, his accomplishments, instead he'll remember her, only her. He just wants to be a little boy again. 

He can't though, he owes his mom an explanation, better than the one he always gives, because she's not even mad. Derek knows she's just worried. She deserves more than the excuse of the celebration gone on for too long.

Derek finds he doesn't have an answer acceptable for the situation.

Talia turns around when the door opens, lips pressed together in a thin line, "Der bear," she says, "Where have you been darling, it's long passed curfew and you're young, people take advantage of that."

Derek almost scoffs, because he, more than anyone else knows that to be true. He knows that adults think he's naïve and stupid, willing to do whatever they ask to get the approval of his elder peers. Maybe he is, maybe that's why what happens to him happens.

He doesn't need to be reminded.

The thought makes him throw up. It gets on the freshly cleaned wooden floors, in his hair, on his clothes. The scent assaults his nose and almost makes the rest of his dinner come back up too.

He wipes his mouth off, and then he's collapsing on the floor. Loud sobs echo after the thump of his weight against the wood. He feels like a toddler. Messy, loud, vulnerable, and it's disgusting.

His mom is on him in seconds, "Bear, breathe, in and out honey. Just like Mom," she whispers, reaches out to wipe a few tears from his face.

Derek jerks away from her hand, crawls backwards until his back is pressed against the door, successfully slamming it closed and making him fall onto his back. The position alone sends another wave of panic through his body, so much so that he can barely breathe. It's a compromising position to be in, laying on his back with no way to protect himself.

Still, even with his chest rising and falling at the speed of light, he forces himself up into a ball. He scooches his way backwards until once more his back is touching their front door. He's more protected this way. It makes his heart slow just a bit.

In front of him is his mom, and behind her are two people his senses are too clouded to identify.

"Bear, it's just me, your mom. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to help, can I do that? Can I help you?" Her voice is low, tone light, she hopes it's soothing his panic.

He jerks his head, in something he hopes is recognizable as a nod. He wants her help. Wants anyone, anything, that's going to make all of this go away.

He doesn't want them to touch him.

Talia nods softly, "Thank you bear," She needs to think for a moment.

"Darling, something happened, Mom needs to know what it was." She doesn't say when he has to tell her, doesn't ask for more from him than he's ready to give. Just lightly brushes his matted hair out of his eyes. He tries to tell her everything anyways.

"Mom. Kate." He can't even think about elaborating, can barely get past the name that's rolled off his tounge, he said it. Which makes it real, because before nobody knew, which meant if he tried hard enough he could pretend it was a dream. A really fucked up dream, but a dream nonetheless.

"Kate, okay. Derek, you have to be more specific, I don't understand. Help me understand."

He cries harder then. He can't, he's tried and he can't. He can't make her understand that either.

His chest hurts and his lungs burn, and it's all he knows beyond fake red hair, and deceiving lips that lie and bruise and take, take, take, until there's nothing left. Nothing but a shell of the boy who once lit up a room with just his smile. Derek wants so desperately for it all to just stop. If his house burst into flames right this very second he'd smile and whisper finally. 

Because Derek Hale has nothing left of himself to live for that hasn't been ripped from him before he even got the chance to experience it.

He passes out on the floor. 

Derek wakes in his bedroom clad in pajamas he hasn't worn since he was thirteen years old and tucked underneath a pile of blankets that are just verging on suffocating. There's an ache that runs bone deep, and he's exhausted in every sense of the word. 

Bits and pieces of last night stick out in his brain, but he doesn't really know how he got here. Beside him he notices his Mom sat staring at him from his bean bag.

"How are you feeling?" She asks.

He groans, "Like shit."

Talia chuckles, "I'm not surprised. You really gave everyone a good scare last night." He notices the redness in her eyes, it becomes apparent she's been crying.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I didn't mean to." 

His mom stands, carries herself to the side of his bed and sits down, "Don't be bear. There's no way you could've stopped anything that happened last night, or made it any less terrifying than it was."

He scoffs at that, "But there was. I should have tried harder or- or something."

Talia is silent for a moment, "No. I don't think that's true. Do you want to know why?"

Derek hums in response.

"Because the minute you walked in that door, your shoulders dropped, and your eyes got all big and watery, and you looked at me, and I knew. I knew that something was incredibly wrong, more so than every other night you've come in late. Derek, you were gone before you even opened our front door."

He finally meets her eyes, "I want to tell you now. I want– I need you to know. I want help." 

She smiles, "I'll listen to whatever you have to say." 

Chapter Text

Nolan Holloway, and Theo Raeken have three different types of days. There's the good days, thrilling, happy, exciting, stress free, and the happily ever after the two men never got.  

Then come the bad days, anxious, terrifying, sad, i'll never be good enough, i have never been good enough, cloudy with a chance of panic attacks, please let this be over soon.  

And finally, days where everything is split down the middle, not all good, not all bad, a blend of everything that makes Theo, Theo, and Nolan, Nolan. 

Good days for Nolan consist of laughter, smiling until his cheeks hurt, running around the house from a very fake, and not at all scary monster. They consist of building towers so high he can't reach the top, and toys all over every corner of his nursery, but no one cares because it's easier to laugh and play than to worry.  

For Theo it's an entirely different experience, to have a good day. Theo likes to make lists, and his list of criteria for a good day consists of about five things.

1. Dragging Nolan into the bath, giggly and messy, and so happy Theo thinks the boy might burst.

2. Liam. Everything and anything Liam Dunbar. (Even the many, many, broken noses)

3. The steadiness of Nolan's usually racing heart.

4. The delightful screech from Malia before he tackles her to the ground and they wrestle until Scott is pulling them apart.

5. Everyone has smiled at least once.

There's things the two share which make good days, good. Like grass stains on pants, aching muscles from playing around too much, cleaning nothing until the last minute, the biggest things meaning nothing and the smallest things meaning everything.

Like finally both having a person who looks at them like they hung the moon, the sun, and the stars in the sky, and they can look at them just the same.

Nolan calls them Sunshine days, because that's what it feels like, sunshine. Theo doesn't have a name, for them, he thinks good, describes them perfectly.

Sunshine days, or just good days, are the days where Nolan is unapologetically Nolan, and Theo is unashamedly happy, and just knowing that is more than enough.

Bad days for Theo, are reminiscent of his days before hell. They're full of dread, the never ending uncertainty that came with always being inches away from looking death in the face. Anxiety, walls built so high he forgets what it feels like to let someone in. There's fear too, subtle, and almost unnoticeable, but there in the way his entire body shakes at loud noises, and shadows on the wall.  

There's other things there too. New things. Like Liam. Liam who will be, whatever he needs him to be, and do whatever he needs him to do. Liam, who on bad days, Theo just needs to lay with, let him listen to thumping  of the beta's heart, so Theo knows he's alive, and not in hell, or alone in a sewer with another failed experiment.

Theo will never be able to thank Liam enough, because when his eyes get glossy, and his hands shake, and all he knows is tunnels and manipulation and death, Liam is there to pull his hands out of his mouth, get him water, and make sure he eats. Liam is there to wipe his tears and kiss his head, and make corny dad jokes about his own trauma, which gets both of them laughing.  

Because they're fucked up, and have gone through too much, and Liam has anger issues, and Theo used to be homicidal, and if they laugh at their own mental instability, and make jokes that get them further and further away from whatever is in the sky after death, then so be it. It's what they deserve after all the bullshit which was Beacon Hills.

Theo would like to think he'd call them Hell Days, but Liam knocks them down one notch to Very Bad No Good Days.

Nolan is different, during bad days. His bad days sometimes turn into bad weeks, or a bad month, and all he wants is a little compassion from the people around him. Bad days for Nolan look like opening your eyes but never really feeling like you woke up, limbs that feel as heavy as dried cement, and brushing teeth is one of the hardest things to accomplish.

They look like his phone ringing and message alerts which go unanswered because he doesn't really comprehend them through the mind numbing fog in his brain. Nolan's bad days are often nonverbal days, words are like lead, and he doesn't care enough to use them. His bad days consist of the whispers of worthlessness trapping him to his bed with motivation that isn't there, eyes that won't stay open, bile in his throat, and a long list of tasks he can't accomplish.

Nolan and Theo have No Good Very Bad Days, or just plain old bad days where being just Nolan or just Theo has never been, will never be enough. 

Nolan thinks that the days where it's not all good, and not all bad, are his least favorite kind of day. Days like that are emotional, and tiring, and suck the life out of him.

Unlike good days, there's none of the warmth provided by the feelings of family, and unconditional love. Instead they're luke-warm, just bordering on cold, soaking him in anxiety, and energy he doesn't know what to do with. And unlike the bad days, there's no sure way of describing how he feels. Instead he feels like he's on cloud nine, and floating in a miserable never ending void all at once.

During these mixed up, slow, days, he just needs someone to hold him, to tell him they understand how he feels, and then make a stupid joke that makes him laugh anyways.

Usually he ends up with Theo, on the couch eating copious amounts of ice-cream –regardless of if they're little or big, but that's not something Liam has to know– and watching bad romance movies(or cartoons). Sometimes they do something different, like attempting to cook, or sort of following old Bob Ross tutorials, until something goes horribly wrong, and one of two things happen.

First, and most likely, one or both of them plumet head first into a smaller head space. Then they call Liam, and he comes to save the day with his magic caregiving skills. Or, the second and almost just as likely, they end up on their asses in the middle of the kitchen or living room, laughing so hard they can't breathe, at three in the morning. They also call Liam then too, or Mason, or Alec, or Brett, or whoever will answer the phone, and tell them what happened.

Theo has those half bad half good days too. They're usually the days where he ends up small at the end of the night, curled next to Nolan with a sippy cup and a stuffed animal. Sometimes Nolan slips then too, and again, it's Liam to the rescue because they can't both be small at the same time.

Those kinds of days are the days where Tara still haunts him, but Nolan and Liam keep her far enough away. He laughs at just about everything, and the same could be said for his bad habit of apologizing too much. He thinks those kinds of days might be his favorite. If not for the physical contact that he gets, which he often wants, but doesn't know how to ask for on other days. Then it's for the delirious, sleep deprived ideas which often end horribly, but they're worth it in the end.   

For the both of them though, those are the days where everything is fragile, Theo, Nolan, and all the things that come with them. Days like that leave Nolan shaking, but he's not sure why. They leave Theo in tears, alone in his bed, while Nolan sleeps in his own room, and there's no one to call but Liam. Liam, who will answer without hesitation and soothe his overwhelmed mind, stay on call until the sun is rising, and Theo is finally sleeping.

Half and Half days, is what they're called. It's a perfect mixture of everything bad and everything good. They're fuzzy, and cloudy, and overwhelming, and fun, and exhausting but in a good way.

On half and half days, being just Theo Raeken, and just Nolan Holloway, has never, will never be enough. Being just Theo Raeken and Nolan Holloway, though? Well, that's perfect.

Chapter Text

If you look up anxiety in the dictionary, it's a picture of boy, with a toothy grin and chewed to nothing nails. You'll notice the boy in the photo is squished next to a friend, both wearing bulky lacross gear, one with a buzz cut.

Inside the mind of the boy with the buzzed hair, anxiety is a constant state. The boy's heart always beats faster than it should, and his fidgeting is just something that his friend had gotten used to. The boy's friend can't picture him unmoving.

The boy is witty, he's sarcastic and his friend knows that even when the boy says something cruel, it's just the way he shows his affection.

The boy with buzzed hair is loud, he's sarcastic just about all of the time, but he is loved unconditionally.

Yet still, the boy with the buzzed hair is but a memory of what once was.

On another page, a good chunk into the dictionary, is the word Panic. It's definition: sudden uncontrollable fear or anxiety, often causing wildly unthinkable behavior.

The picture under this word, is of the same boy with the buzzed hair, yet it is still someone the boy with the buzzed hair would not know.

This boy, has long brown hair on top of his head, and his sides are adorned with a nice fade. This boy, with the nice fade, has strong features, a new, subtle confidence in his ability to defend himself and those he cares for.

This boy, in the photo is pressed against that same friend, the friend who knew the boy with buzzed hair. Except, they no longer wear lacrosse gear, and to the left of the boy, is a girl. This girl has fierce red hair, she's pretty, and dressed to the nines.

The girl is smiling softly and her arm is resting on the boy's shoulder. It clear the three are friends, good friends.

Even more different than the photo of the boy with buzzed hair is, to the right of the boy's male friend, is yet another girl!

This girl is quite the opposite of the fierce red head. This girl has short brown hair, she too is very pretty, but her clothes are more casual, and all her attention is on the boy's friend. The boy's friend, whom she stands with, both arms wrapped around his neck.

All four children are obviously close with one another. It's clear in all their smiles, and tight hugging. Yet, even through their smiles, it is clear that something is not right. Underneath all of their eyes are bags, their shoulders are slumped, and their clothes are wrinkled.

The boy with faded sides is the most worn, and still the most pleased out of them all. The boy with the faded sides is pale, and looks as if he is recovering from a sickness.

Underneath the photo in messy handwriting, from left to right, is four names, they read, Lydia, Stiles, Scott, Ally. After the name Ally is a small heart.

The boy with the buzzed hair, who is also the boy with the nice fade, is called Stiles.

Stiles who looks sick, and tired, but so, so happy. Stiles who still lives in constant anxiety, but now also panic.

Stiles who in his panic forgets how to breathe, and how to think. Stiles who's body the panic floods every part of. Who pushes out all rational thoughts in favor of the panic making itself at home.

Stiles who is left with aftermath. Left with headaches, shaking hands, and vomit on the floor.

This boy with the nice fade, who is called Stiles, friends with Scott, Lydia, and Ally, is nothing more than a photo under a word that so perfectly defined him and his nice fade.

The boy with the nice fade is forever trapped in a photo, one that causes an ache bone deep for the boy he is today.

Somewhere along the course of his high-school career, the anxiety turned into panic, and the panic turned into paranoia.

Paranoia, the word in the dictionary, where the most current picture of himself is taped down on the old pages.

Paranoia, which is what he imagines the combination of anxiety and panic to be. The proper definition reads:

1. [Noun] a mental condition characterized by delusions of persecution, unwarranted jealousy, or exaggerated self-importance, typically elaborated into an organized system.

2. [Noun] suspicion and mistrust of people or their actions without evidence or justification.

In the picture is Stiles, older, chewing his fingers, and looking out of the corner of his eyes at a boy who stands a little behind Stiles to the left, and looks to be of a similar age. This is the paranoia, evident in even a snapshot of a second of his life. Visible in the way he looks suspiciously at this boy, who looks like he's done nothing wrong, who isn't even looking at Stiles.

This boy, who has hazel hair, the bluest eyes, and a small smirk. Next to the boy, on his right is Scott, right behind Stiles, one arm wrapped around the new boys shoulders, and a hand on Stiles's arm.

Scott is smiling wide, eyes crinkled in the corner, he looks happiest in this photo, and still a sadness lingers on his features. On Scott's right is a girl, she has long black hair, braided messily and thrown over her shoulder. She wears an odd belt, around her waist. She has a thin smile, and her head lays against Scott's shoulder, there's so much joy in her face, it's hard not to smile back.

In front of this girl, and to Stiles's right, is another girl, this girl has short dirty blonde hair, and she looks annoyed. Her eyebrows are raised and she's looking pointedely at the same boy Stiles is staring at. One hand rests on Stiles leg, and the other is raised, ready to land a blow to someone around her. A small smile turns the corners of her lips up.

Behind this girl, and to the right of the girl with a braid, is Lydia. Lydia who's hair is tossed to one shoulder, in way that is just so Lydia. She's smirking and she leans against the girl, arms crossed over her chest. She's intimidating and welcoming all at once, it's true Lydia fashion.

Next to Lydia, to her right is a young boy, he has blonde hair, and bright green eyes. His head is tossed back caught in a laugh, his cheeks are tinted red and the corners of his eyes crease slightly. He's clearly one of the youngest there, but it seems he fits right in anyways.

In front of the boy, to the right of the angry dirty blonde, is another boy, with short black hair, and a mischievous grin, it's clear he's the cause of the blonde boy's laughter, body half turned and one arm pushing against the boy behind him. His head is tilted up to see the other boy, and he looks just as amused as his friend.

The picture is incredibly messy and still manages to perfectly capture each of their personalities. Above the photo from left to right, in messy handwriting, is five names, Theodore, Scottie, Kira :), Lyds, Little Liam.

Along the bottom is three names, written in the same messy handwriting reading from left to right, Biles, Mean Malia, then a space for the space in between Malia, and the last boy, who's name reads, Mr. Mason.

Besides the the large amount of people, the only other big change from the last photo to this one, is lack of a girl, one who smiled big and bright, the one called Ally.

Somehow, the place where she should be, is the thing that catches your eye the quickest. A gap between two people, a space left unfilled. And this photo marks the end of an Era, of an innocence no longer there, of something pure and good, and everything they needed.

Through the empty space, and the ache of a loss, is also the beginning. Of something new, of a new kind of innocence, of something just as good.

The end, and the beginning, captured, and framed in this little book full of words.

Chapter Text

Liam and Theo's Apartment, Beacon Hills. 

10:00 PM. 

Theo thinks they've probably never been this comfortable with their eyes closed before. Liam is a very good pillow, if you ignore the constant shuffling, and they're very tired so it doesn't bother them much. Liam's fingers gently card through their hair as he talks animatedly with his other hand. Mason and Corey have been on call with the two of them for probably an hour now. It's everyone's way of unwinding after the long day they've had. It's been full of misgendering, awkward get togethers, quiet distrust from Liam's friends, and a desperate search for any signs of true friendship.

Theo, knows the misgendering wasn't on purpose, the pack simply doesn't know, and they haven't had the courage to tell them. Calling Theo 'he' isn't an act of anger or hate; just something that happens when you've never told anybody that you're not a boy, or a girl, that you exist in the spot in-between. In the gentle push and pull of being neither here nor there. 

The strained friendships they could do without though. They can't say they don't understand it. Weary glances and the constant searching for something more in them than there is. Somedays, its worse than others. Like today, when Scott couldn't stop looking at them, unintentionally running a hand over the spot his scars should've been. Like when all Malia could do was crowd Stiles like a helicopter parent, always keeping Theo on one side of her and Stiles on the other. Which, Stiles probably ended up having the worst time of them all. Considering that he took one look at Theo and threw up all over Melissa McCall's living room floor.

They can't blame him either. They had done horrible things to him. Tore apart his longest and most important friendship, left him alone and grieving in the pouring rain, fed him lies and half-truths and used his own words against him.

Besides, it's not like Liam and they had been unprepared for a possible reaction like that. Scott had given them a call an hour before they were supposed to be there. He had told Liam that everyone was having a bit of an off day and to not take anything to heart that might be said or done. Liam had suggested they just stay home, curl up together and watch shitty Netflix Original movies. Theo insisted they at least make an appearance. They should have listened to Liam.

Theo only stayed for about two hours after that, eventually leaving when everyone was too drained to keep hanging out. They think it's better than nothing, that maybe hanging out once a week might be healing parts of them they didn't know were broken. To be shown any level of trust from people they had worked tirelessly to destroy, and then just as hard to save their lives, is something Theo cherishes. The pack is messy, and broken, torn relationships and taped together friendships, but they're together, and that's the most they can ask for. 

Theo understands why they're tired, is what they're  getting at. They've got brain fog, and they feel small, very small. 

Theo thinks they've been drifting in and out of consciousness for the better part of the last hour, Liam's hand in their hair, and the warmth between their bodies is enough to lull them into a light sleep, but then Liam jerks, or gets a little too loud, and suddenly they're awake again. It's an unpleasant cycle, and really all Theo wants is for Liam to stay still for more than five minutes. But it's soft, and warm, and Theo feels like they're floating, fuzzy and slow. 

Theo leans further into Liam's hand, and hums lowly. They can hear Liam pause in his conversation, and the hand in their hair slows to a stop. Theo blinks slowly, turns their head up to look at Liam. Liam is smiling at them, one of the soft ones that Theo loves, where his mouth turns up at the corners and his lips are pressed together.

It makes Theo giggle, "Okay?" They ask.

Liam nods, "Yeah, I'm okay, is Theo okay?" That stumps Theo, just for a second though. 

They hum, "Theo's okay."

Liam chuckles, "How old is Theo?"

Theo shrugs, "Dunno know. Small, maybe."

Liam outright laughs at that, "I think maybe you're right. Are you tired love?"

They nod, "Defin'ly." Theo thinks they can hear Corey and Mason laughing too.

"Do you want me to take you to bed or do you want to stay here with me?" Liam asks.

Theo huffs, "Here with you. Please?"

And Liam doesn't know how he could possibly say no to a request so incredibly sweet. He doesn't, he tells Theo it's okay, that he can stay as long as he'd like. Theo hums, for like the fifteenth time, and Liam laughs at him. Liam adjusts himself back into a comfortable position and continues his conversation with Corey and Mason, one hand still carding through Theo's hair and the other gesturing while he talks.

Later, when Liam his finished with his friends, and Theo is just about fully asleep, it happens, a quiet stirring of discomfort, brought forth by Liam's words, and though Theo only catches the end of the boy's mumbling, which is nothing but a simple statement,

"...Take him upstairs," it's still just enough to make Theo squirm.

   "Take him upstairs." He had said. "Take him upstairs."

    Him.

    Liam had called Theo him.

    Him, which Theo is decidedly not. 

Somewhere, in the slow swirls of confusion and hurt in their mind, their adult headspace rationalizes that Liam doesn't know. And their own reassurance would have worked, if they were feeling much older. Instead all they can think is that Liam was mean, that Liam did it on purpose -he didn't- and Theo can't handle that. 

    Theo can't handle that. 

A minute ago, Theo was just about asleep, and now, as Liam lifts the both of them off of the couch, and holds them on his hip, there's tears coming to their eyes, and everything inside them feels so wrong. Wrong in the shirt too tight on their chest, wrong in curves of their shoulders, wrong in the length of their legs. Wrong. There's a certain salty-sourness to the air, and Theo knows Liam can smell it too, because his footsteps slow, and then stop at the bottom of the stairs.

"Theo," He pauses, bumps Theo up, tightens his hold on his partner, "Love, are you crying?" There's a softness in his voice Theo's never really heard before, and an uptick in his heartrate. He's worried.

Theo sniffles, "Mhm."

Liam feels his heart speed up, "How come?" He asks. Liam watches worriedly as Theo shakes his head rapidly against Liam's shoulder.

"Hey, hey, don't hurt yourself love, if you don't want to talk we don't have to. I just don't want to leave you so upset." Liam rubs a hand up and down Theo's back in a gentle attempt to soothe the boy. Theo squirms against him and Liam readjusts him subtly. Theo takes a breath, then another, before he lifts up his head to look at Liam. Liam takes note of the tremble in his chin, and the pounding of his heart.

"Wanna'-" He sniffles, "-Wanna ta'k-" he coughs, "Is ha'd." Liam nods at the simple explanation, understands that Theo is clearly uncomfortable in this position, has something to say but can't figure out if he should.

"That's okay," he says, "Sometimes it takes time to tell people things." 

Theo nods, because Liam is right, it's taken Theo a long time to work up the courage to tell Liam this. Logically they know Liam will except them, but that doesn't mean that Liam will want to continue to date them. So it doesn't really matter if Theo is big or little, because it's scary either way, in any situation, with any one person, but most especially Liam.

However, little Theo is a lot braver than big Theo. Theo can't bring themselves right now, in their headspace, to believe that Liam will do anything to hurt them because it's Liam. Liam who takes care of them in their most vulnerable moments, Liam who could get them to do anything he wants them to in these moments but he doesn't. Instead he takes the vulnerability and trust Theo shows and treasures it, treats it like the greatest gift he could ever receive. 

Theo has a undying, un-fearing trust in Liam, so here goes nothing. 

"Not-", they take a breath, "Not a boy. You said-", their voice cracks, "You said 'm boy. Is w'ong." They make eye contact with Liam for the first time, his eyes are wide and Theo can feel Liam's heartbeat going a million miles a minute.

"Okay," Liam ventures cautiously, "Okay what does that mean?" He asks quietly. 

"Me no boy an' me no gi'l." Theo says. It clicks then for Liam what Theo means, non-binary, Theo has been trying to tell him that they're non-binary.

"I understand now love. What do you want to be called?" He asks.

Theo blinks, surprised, "No mad?"

Liam chuckles softly, "No. Never mad at you." 

"You give me kisses even when 'm big sti'?" 

And oh. That hits Liam like a truck. Theo thinks Liam won't want to be with them anymore. The idea that Liam could ever stop loving them, is a joke, something he laughs in the face of, because Theo is his whole world, he'd lasso the moon from the sky if they asked him to. 

"Oh honey, I'd never stop loving you. I'll love you forever sweetheart. To the moon and back." Liam says. Theo begins sobbing again, hugging Liam tightly like they're afraid he's going to leave.

"P'omise?" They hiccup. 

"Promise." 

And for that moment, nothing mattered. It was just the two of them. An innocent request to be loved, and a promise to never stop loving.

Chapter Text

Liam Dunbar is graduating from Beacon Hills Highschool tomorrow.

He's making a speech, did you know? Mrs. Martin and their latest counselor had approached him about a week and a half ago. With two fake smiles they had told him as the captain of the lacrosse team and a graduating senior, he would have to give a speech.

"We want something positive to give the school some hope before you leave. Give the other children some hope." That's what Mrs. Martin had told him. Liam had smiled and accepted the task, it wasn't really an option not to anyways. Now, as he recalls the conversation and holds the final copy of his speech in his hand, he realizes it's probably not what they had been looking for. The speech isn't really positive, and he knows that Mrs. Martin is going to be disappointed. She had after all, trusted him enough to not read over his speech before he gives it tomorrow.

What's more than that though, she's Lydia's mother, and Lydia's mother is not a person he aims to disappoint. Liam tries not to think about that particular aspect though, his speech is good, and it means something. The speech isn't the scariest part though. It's the graduating that's really getting to him. Which is probably the craziest thing ever, but it's true. This feels like the hardest thing he's done in a long time. It should be easier than this, easier than it feels.

Liam should be able to walk proudly onto the stage and shake the hand of Lydia's mom, his principal. He should take his diploma, smile into the crowd of people who've watched him grow up, flip his tassel, and finally feel free. Except, he can't, he won't. There's parts of him that aren't ready. There are shattered pieces that still need time, and parts of his heart that he hasn't managed to put back together yet. Everything his happening too soon, he's grown up too fast.

The worst part?

The worst part is that sometimes Liam still feels like he's freshly fifteen, starting his freshman year in a new school and only his best friend at his side. At night he can feel the chains tying him to a tree, or locking him in a van. When he walks the halls he hears the roars of berserkers and feels the gasoline on his skin. When he thinks too hard or for too long he can still feel the heartbreak, he can still feel the burn of shame on his cheeks, the churning guilt in his stomach. During his weekend runs around town he remembers the explosions of anger, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the rawness in his throat from screaming until his lungs hurt. It hurts, when he recalls these feelings. It makes his chest ache for the child he was, and for the child he never got to be.

And sometimes Liam still feels the chaos of being sixteen. When he closes his eyes he can hear Stiles's voice in his head, asking him to smell what Theo is feeling. He can hear himself calling Stiles crazy, and thinking Theo was safe. Then he hears himself sobbing with Hayden in his arms, grief clawing at his insides and thinking that he should've listened to Stiles. Liam still feels the grief. He feels it the same way he felt it at sixteen. It's so strong. It steals the breath from his lungs, and strength from his muscles. It shatters him all over again. Grief takes and takes and takes until he has nothing left to give.

Sometimes Liam doesn't think he ever stopped being fifteen, he thinks fifteen never really ended, it just faded into sixteen with no real conclusion. Then sixteen faded into seventeen and now eighteen is one small step away.

Wasn't fifteen just yesterday?

Isn't sixteen today?

Isn't seventeen tomorrow?

Wasn't eighteen a million years away?

Liam Dunbar is graduating tomorrow.

Liam Dunbar is eighteen in two days.

He'll be eighteen and seventeen, fifteen and sixteen.

Liam Dunbar is graduating today.

Liam Dunbar is turning eighteen tomorrow.

He is painfully aware of these things as he stares in the mirror and buttons his white shirt. He feels so far away, like he's dreaming. It's like watching a movie about himself. His hands shake, and his eyes are unfocused. He's running completely on autopilot, as he pulls on his gray slacks and tucks in his shirt. Liam doesn't remember putting his belt on, or shoving his feet into those stuffy brown dress shoes.

He comes back again when Theo appears in front on him. He finds himself on his bed, bent over with his head pressed in his hands. He realizes he's been crying. When he sits up straight, he sees Theo's face, his lips are turned down in the corners and his eyebrows are furrowed, bringing wrinkles to his forehead. Liam is aware enough to recognize his worry, but not aware enough to know the cause.

"Liam," he says. And there must be something clogging his ears because Theo sounds like he's underwater.

"Liam, are you with me?" He asks. Liam doesn't really understand the question, of course he's with him. Theo is standing right there, he's looking right at him. He wants to tell Theo just that, but his mouth his dry and his head feels like cotton. He settles for a small nod instead.

Theo smiles soft and a little reserved, "Good, that's so good. We've got to get going now. The ceremony starts in an hour, you have to be there in fifteen minutes." Something clicks in his brain, because he suddenly becomes very aware of what's happening.

Theo must realize this too, as he gently brushes Liam's hair out of his face, and takes hold of his hand.

"Theo," he swallows and clears his throat, "Theo I'm so scared." He whispers.

"I know." Theo replies smoothly, like they've done this a thousand times. Liam shakes his head, clears away the rest of the cotton, he's graduating today, he has to go.

"Help me?" He asks, looking right into Theo's eyes, so vulnerable, and so terrified.

"Of course," Theo nods, and he does.

Liam Dunbar is graduating today, and as he stands in line behind one hundred or so other kids, he realizes there are people who are not. Liam is going to walk the stage in his cap and gown. He will walk with his friends, he will walk with the rest of the graduating class, and he will walk with ghosts.

When he receives his diploma, he will be harshly reminded that there are people who will never get theirs. He will be reminded that there are parents who will never hang their child's diploma on the wall. He will be reminded that some of his friends will never shake their principals hand, and they will never hold a diploma, and they will never pack it in a box when they move away from home.

He will remember Brett and Lori, and their final stand against the hunters. He will remember Tracy and Josh, manipulated and mutilated over and over until finally they could rest. He will remember Gabe, who was just a kid, who was brainwashed and used as a tool by cowards too scared to do it own their own.

He will remember the stories of Allison Argent, he will remember the cautionary tale of Erica and Boyd. He will remember the tragedy of Paige. He will remember every hunter lost to the war they never should have had to fight. He will remember his enemies, he will remember his friends, he will remember the stories and tragedies, and warnings from a Beacon Hills he'll never know.

Then he will give his speech. The speech he's only allowed to give because the number of the captain is no longer eleven, it's nine, and in less than two hours it will be something else. In less than four hours Liam Dunbar will be a memory in the halls of his Highschool.

Because fifteen was three years ago, eighteen is now, and his childhood is forever just out of reach.

"Liam Harrison Dunbar,"

Liam shakes his hands at his sides, he clears his throat, he swallows his fear, and he steps onto the stage. His palms are sweating, and his legs are shaking, but he refuses to let everyone see. He keeps his head held high, and he stands tall as he walks proudly across the stage. It seems like hours have passed between leaving backstage and coming face to face with Mrs. Martin and his diploma. Mrs. Martin usually intimidates Liam, much like the way Mrs. McCall does, but today, she seems softer, less professional, she seems more real. Liam has always had tremendous respect for the red haired woman, and he's always assumed she's felt the same for him.

Mrs. Martin has done a lot for him, as a counselor and principal, but as a mother too. She'd recognized what was happening when the hunters were relentlessly hounding him. She'd given him a safe space in her office. She'd wiped his tears. Mrs. Martin had pushed him to discover new strengths and develop his goals. She's supported him for years, unwilling to give up on a single student. Mrs. Martin has always felt safe, and as he stands so close to her, he understands why. Her eyes are soft, and her smile is so genuine. She's glowing with pride, yet there seems to be a quiet sadness underneath it all. Liam knows it's because she's going to miss them, she had told him as much just a few days ago. He thinks then, that he's going to miss her too.

With an indescribable mix of feelings, he shakes her hand, it's soft and warm, and the small squeeze she gives him provides a surge of comfort.

"Thank you for everything," he tells her quietly. He hopes she understands what he's really trying to say.

"You don't understand everything you've done for me this past year, and I'll never forget it. I'm going to miss you."

"Congratulations Mr. Dunbar," she replies, and he understands what she really means.

"I'm proud of you, and i'll miss you."

There are tears in his eyes as he takes his diploma from her hand. With a watery smile he turns to the podium, and as result he faces the crowd as well. The walk to the podium takes probably fifteen seconds, but it too, feels like hours. He wraps his hands around the sides of the stand. The wood is warm from the sun, and it's a small comfort during such an emotionally charged day. He removes one hand and pulls out his speech from the small pocket in his gown. Slowly he flattens the paper out against the podium, and he knows he's only prolonging the inevitable.

Liam adjusts his posture, and clears his throat, there's tears on his cheeks and if he weren't so fucked in the head he might feel embarrassed, as it stands, he doesn't really care. With one last shaky breath, he grabs hold of the microphone, pulls it towards his mouth, and he begins his fifteen minutes.

"Some of you—most of you already know who I am," he takes another breath and starts searching the crowd for his parents, "But if you don't! Hi I'm Liam, i'm seventeen, and I'm the captain of the lacrosse team—"

From somewhere in the back row of the family section he hears Nolan shout out something about co-captains. The crowd laughs at the comment, and he chuckles lowly. It's not really that funny but it's nice to hear everyone laughing, so he runs with it anyways.

He begins again, "So sorry everyone, I'm the Co-Captian of the lacrosse team, I don't really know what that means if I'm being honest but it was Coach's idea and if you've ever tried to argue with Coach you'll understand why you just accept your fate on the lacrosse team." That too gets a positive reaction from everyone on the field. While the laughter is dying down he successfully locates his parents in the fourth row, right behind Scott and Kira.

Once more he clears his throat, "And i'm graduating today, can you believe it? I swear it was just yesterday that I walked into this school. I was so angry that I had to be here, and now, three years later, I'm crying cause I have to leave. I know there are some of you that are probably laughing at me crying, but until you've been where I have, you'll never understand. Honestly, three years ago, I didn't know if I would still be here. I truly didn't think I'd make it to graduation. There were some nights where I'd come home at two or three in the morning and my clothes would be destroyed, there'd be blood in my hair and on my face, and I would be covered in dirt from head to toe. I'd be so exhausted, and in so much pain, and my wounds wouldn't heal quick enough and I was so sure I was going to die. Sometimes, that thought didn't scare me like it should have. More often than i'd like to have to say, I'd come home with blood on my clothes from a friend that would be buried by next week, and I would sit on the floor and cry until the same came up."

He pauses to wipe his eyes, and adjusts his posture. For just a minute he lets himself feel completely heartbroken. Then he blinks, and looks down at his speech, and he keeps going.

"I was so sure I would be taken out by an arrow, or wolfsbane, or another monster that at fifteen, and sixteen, I shared the responsibility of stopping before it killed another one of you, or another one of my friends. Other times I thought the grief of losing so many people so quickly and so close together was going to stop my heart. There were nights where I cried so hard I couldn't breathe. It's really hard to share this stuff with everyone, some of these things my closest friends don't even know about. Despite everything, here I stand, and I'm fucking graduating, and I'm turning eighteen tomorrow and so fuck yeah I'm crying."

He throws his fist in the air at the end, proud of himself. And to Liam's surprise there's loud cheering, and it's coming from his friends, from his teachers, from kids he's never even spoken to before. It's a little bit breathtaking. After thirty or so seconds, the clapping fades to a stop and with burning eyes and an aching heart, he continues.

"This next parts a little bit heavier, but I think it's important, so here it goes. Here I stand, on a stage that so many of my friends will never step foot on. Here I stand, with a diploma in my hand that so many people I know will never receive. Right now, there are empty chairs amongst the students, and there are empty chairs amongst the families. Behind me, on the projector, there are names that play on the screen occasionally. These are the names of kids that are not here today. The names of my friends. The names of the children that are supposed to be in the empty seats. The names of the children who's families are not here, because their children are not here."

Liam feels his heart rate speed up, and his stomach has started churning. He feels a little panicky, but he's determined to keep going anyways.

"Beacon Hills has suffered profound loss over the last few years. I can count on both hands the amount of people, the amount of friends I have lost. I want to honor them today, I want to respect them. I want to say their names because they deserve to have them called. Here or not this is their graduation too."

Liam adjusts himself against the podium, straightens his back and looks around. Liam can see his friends in the family section, and he can see his friends in the student section.

He can see the fiery red of Lydia's hair. He can see the leather of Derek's jacket. He can see Stiles's ugly beige bag hanging from a chair at the end of the row. He can see Scott's proud eyes and Kira's nostalgic smile in the windows between people's heads. He even picks out Nolan and Alec fooling around in the very back row. Liam doesn't see Theo, but he can smell him. He can smell metal and oil and some kind of aftershave.

When he turns his head to the left he can see Corey in the fifth row, proudly holding a diploma and grinning widely at Liam. Liam who's hands shake and who's cheeks have gone pale. Liam who's breath is suddenly coming out uneven and who's chest begins to ache. Liam who has been given the honor by Mrs. Martin to commemorate his buried friends. How tragically beautiful.

"Above me the names I call will appear on the screen. Some of these kids would have been juniors or sophomores this year. Some of these students didn't even go to this school. But they have walked through our doors, they have sat on our bleachers, they have stood in our halls. They have played on our fields and they have become members of our community. There are a lot of names on this list. Some of you will recognize all of them. Some will recognize just a few. Some of you might not know any of these name at all."

With shaking hands and stuttering breaths, he begins.

"Allison Argent.

Vernon Boyd.

Matt Daehler.

Josh Diaz.

Gabe Dillon.

Donovan Donati.

Paige Krasikeva.

Tara Raeken.

Erica Reyes.

Lori Rohr.

Aiden Steiner.

Tracy Stewart.

Brett Talbot."

Liam does not speak again. He cannot see past the front row. There are too many tears. There is a lump in his throat. There are thirteen names. There are thirteen dead bodies. Thirteen dead children. There are thirteen ghosts that Liam has walked with today.

Liam clears his throat. Liam wipes his eyes. Liam smiles weakly. Liam leans into the microphone. Liam ends the silence.

"Beacon Hills Highschool is a place where I have met some of the most incredible people. People like Stiles Stilinksi, people like Corey Bryant, people like Lydia Martin, people like Scott McCall. It has brought me to my friends. Inside those halls my friends and I have loved, we have lost, we have grieved, and cried, and given up. We have watched each other fall apart and put ourselves back together again. I don't know if I've ever loved a place so much and hated it so deeply at the same time. Despite everything this place has taken from me, I'll forever be grateful for everything it has given me. Thank you, seriously."

Liam steps back from the podium, he doesn't hear the wild clapping from the audience. His legs feel like they might give out, and he can hardly breathe any more. His eyes are so blurry, and he doesn't really comprehend it when he flips his tassel. Instead he barrels down the steps on the side of the stage and right into Scott's waiting arms.

Liam doesn't even know when Scott appeared there, but it doesn't matter because it's Scott. Scott who's arms are strong and who's scent is comforting. This is his big brother, someone who has always protected him, and forgiven him for his worst mistakes. Scott takes care of him, he always has. So he lets Scott take him away from the roaring crowd and into the parking lot.

He feels so panicked, and everything hurts and his head feels so fuzzy, like it's been stuffed with cotton candy. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realizes his headspace is plummeting fast, and he can't stop it. It's so loud, and he can't breathe, and he misses Brett, and Lori, and all of his friends, and there's so much happening, and his head is spinning and full of fog, and it doesn't really surprise him when his eyes roll back and the world goes black.

For what it's worth, Theo really did try his hardest not to punch Alec in the nose. Really, he did. Alec just happens to be the most annoying fifteen year old he's ever met. Theo can't really be blamed for breaking the kids nose, not when his boyfriend has been unconscious for twenty-four hours, and he'd only gotten an hour of sleep last night. Besides, the kid healed in five minutes.

"I hate you and I hope you die." Alec declares loudly, walking back into Scott's living room with a clean face and one of Scott's sweaters on. Theo just rolls his eyes, and flips the little fucker off.

Stiles jumps over the back of the couch and lands next to Theo with a bag of potato chips, "Technically," he says with a mouth full of chips, "Theo already did that."

Alec scoffs, clearly offended, "Fuck you Stilinski!" He shrieks.

Stiles shrugs, "If you insist."

Theo laughs loudly as Alec covers his face and yells out an absurd amount of swear words at the thought. Theo thinks that Alec isn't wrong, fucking Stiles sounds absolutely horrible.

He decides he's had enough of the two of them though, and pushes himself off the sofa.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Alec asks, eyes wide.

Theo stretches his arms out and yawns, "To check on Liam, wanna come?"

Alec scrunches up his nose, "No, you're gonna be all weird and gross."

Again, Theo laughs at the kid, "Whatever you say man."

Then he's climbing McCall's stairs two at a time on a quest for the guest bedroom. He passes Scott's childhood bedroom and the bathroom before he makes his stop at Liam's room. Slowly he pushes the door open. The bedroom is a little dark with it's curtains pulled closed, and the lights off, but Theo can see well enough, especially since the sun was still shining. Inside the room Scott is asleep on the chair in the corner, just like Theo had been a few hours ago.

He shuts the door behind him with a little click, and heads towards the lump on the bed. Liam seemed to have woken up at some point because the blanket is pulled over his head and he's curled into a little ball. Theo smiles softly at the sight and sits down on the edge of the mattress closest to the Liam. His back is against the headboard and his legs are pulled up to his chest. There's probably three feet of space between the two men. Liam shuffles a little bit, and before Theo can even register that he's awake, the blonde yanks the blanket off his face. Liam groans and blinks up at Theo.

"Theo?" He whispers.

Theo smiles down at him, "Hey lovebug, how ya feeling?"

"Um...hurts? And... um small?" Liam declares, unsure.

Theo frowns at the thought of Liam in pain, "Where does it hurt Li?"

Liam bawls his fist and brings up to his eyes, rubbing the sleep away. He yawns and pulls himself up to try and lay against Theo's right side. It sort of works, but Theo's legs are still up against his chest and his arm is guarding his stomach, so Liam ends up laying with his cheek against Theo's leg. It's a very amusing sight to see, and Theo chuckles at his sleepy boyfriend. Theo lifts his arm up and stretches his legs out all the way, then he pulls Liam up to his chest.

"Hurts in my head." Liam tells him, once he's comfortably laying against Theo.

"You've got a headache?" Theo raises an eyebrow at the boy.

Liam nods, "Mhm. Hurts."

"Okay do you want some medicine?"

"No. Go sleep"

Theo laughs quietly, "Alright we can go back to sleep."

So that's what they do, they fall asleep on the guest bed together, wrapped up in each others arms, content for the time being. Graduation and growing up forgotten.