Grae



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Standing next to not-Derek – whoa, holding not-Derek’s hand? – is someone who looks remarkably like Stiles. Is Stiles, a slightly-altered replica, just like this guy both is and isn't Derek.

    It’s not like looking into a mirror – one, because looking into a mirror actually makes some kind of sense, and two, because not-Stiles looks older too, mid twenties maybe. And the tips of his short, spiky hair are dark purple, and he’s got a lip ring and he’s shirtless and covered in tattoos and what the holy hell?

    “Time travel?" He's sufficiently freaked. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears his dad laughing.

    “Not exactly,” not-Derek says, and shit, even his voice sounds exactly the same, disconcertingly gentle. He gestures behind him, and Stiles looks over his shoulder, where behind him, scattered across the porch and in the front yard, are more…Dereks and more Stileses.

    Fourteen total, including the two at the door, he notes distantly, eyes feeling like they’re about to pop out of his head from bulging so hard.

    Seven other Dereks. Seven other Stileses.

    Seven Derek and Stiles pairs.

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    06 Mar 2018

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    His father wasn’t stupid. He was an officer of the law, trained to look for patterns. He confronted Stiles about werewolves and they shouted and Stiles tried to explain but his father was so, so, so mad, more mad than Stiles had ever seen him, ever in all his life and then his father looked at him and said,

    “It’s like you’re not my son anymore.”

    And Stiles broke.

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    02 Dec 2017

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    It's been a quiet few years, and the McCall Pack has grown and settled. But, when the Hale Pack return to Beacon Hills they find Scott isn't as welcoming as they had hoped.

    Soon they, Stiles, and Lydia, find out that not everything about the McCall Pack is as it has always seemed.

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    19 Nov 2017

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “I’m serious Derek,” Stiles whispers. “Come home.”

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    18 Nov 2017

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “We should have him over for dinner,” Lydia says. She’s inspecting a pair of stilettos, weighing them carefully in one hand. They would look lovely on her and the price tag is nowhere near enough to dissuade her. Beside her, Stiles snorts, shuffling sideways so that a mother and her squalling child can pass by. “That would be sending entirely the wrong message, Lyds.”

    She rolls her eyes and passes him the shoe box. “Nonsense. It’s what you do when you wish to court someone.”

    “Pretty sure all the rules are different when he knows what we are and may think we’re planning on having him for dinner.”

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    27 Oct 2017