That night in the basement has changed Stiles forever. Not only was he abandoned by his friends and left to be beaten up by Gerard, he also has to struggle with the fact that Scott doesn’t really care about him.
As pointed out by Gerard.
With that knowledge in hand, what will Stiles do when his life and that of his friends is in mortal danger?
Things take a surprising turn after that night. Gerard leaves the pack devastated and split up. Scott shows his true colors, as Gerard predicted. But where do Derek’s loyalties lie?
What if he decides to push Stiles out of the pack, after seeing the person he loves the most get hurt over and over again? What if he doesn't realize that by doing so, he is also ultimately destroying the rest of the pack?
The one in which Stiles goes missing for three months and then suddenly, out of nowhere, he turns up at the door of the Hale House, confusing himself, Derek, and literally everyone else.
Oh, yeah, and he has no memory of what happened to him (or, at least, no conscious memory).
Making sure his exits are still open, Stiles pushes through the crowd. He sees men in full black gear entering, plainly sweeping over the people, sharp eyes searching. He can see a concealed weapon from a mile away, and these men are packing a bunch of them.
Stiles takes his Mets cap off his head as he makes his way through the thick flock of people, and slaps the cap on top of the black tuft of hair, making the magazine drop instantly, familiar blue eyes flashing for a millisecond.
‘’Derek,’’ Stiles grits out, because of course it’s Derek. Who else has the shittiest luck in the whole wide world, to be clad half naked in a harsh, bitter winter, chased by men with guns? He strips his own jacket off before the wolf can answer, and Jesus, does his torn body look fucking awful.
He needs to get Derek out of there and fast.
Stiles isn’t just any boy is the thing of it – he’s like…he’s the boy. He’s the only living boy Derek is aware of. He’s got freckles and pale skin and big eyes and Derek likes him. A lot. Like, an unhealthy amount.
A werewolf amount. Werewolves fixate. They hunt. They want. Derek wants to find him and pin him down and lick him. It’s gross, but he’s an animal. All right. He wants to fuck Stiles. He wants Stiles to say his name. He wants Stiles to look him right in his eyes from only a foot away and smile and blush and…he wants. Oh, God. This is a disaster.
He has to think about how Stiles is dating someone. His mind starts up a mental block for his own sanity when he starts to linger on Theo fucking Raeken touching him. It rejects the idea altogether, even though there is no true denying it. It is happening. For all he knows, it’s happening right now, in the janitor’s closet down the hall. Oh, misery.
Bookmarked by jussy
31 Jan 2018
Bookmarked by jussy
29 Jan 2018