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autismlookslikeme · 2 years

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Scars - Stiles Stilinski

Five times someone noticed Stiles’ scars and one time he noticed someone else’s.

Warnings! Lots of mentions of injuries, none are very graphic though. Brief mentions of abuse, kinda alluded to more than anything else.

Also definitely kind of a long one just fyi.

———

1. John

John stopped as he walked past Stiles’s door, just to say good morning. He paused, stayed silent. Stiles stood back to the door, changing his shirt. Just before he pulled his clean shirt over his head John caught sight of the scars on his back. On his right shoulder, a large and vaguely circular scar, with dozens of individual marks, circles within circles. On the opposite shoulder faded red lines cross crossed from his neck down past his shoulder blade. Smaller, far more faded scars littered his lower back. Sadness wound tight around John’s heart. How many more scars was Stiles hiding? When had his little boy become a battle hardened, scar covered soldier?

“Dad!” Stiles jumped when he turned and caught John staring. “What are-” but John just stepped into the room and pulled him into a tight hug. Then held him tighter still. Stiles was stunned for a few seconds before wrapping his arms around John and holding him just as tight.

“I’m sorry.” John said. But . . . sorry? Sorry for what? Sorry that Stiles youth had been taken from him? Sorry his innocence had been stolen? Sorry he had been forced to stagger beneath the weight of knowledge he shouldn’t have to carry? Sorry he’d had to grow up faster than he should have? Sorry. Sorry he couldn’t protect him from the dangers of the world around them.

“Sorry?” Stiles asked. “Sorry for what?” John just held him closer, one hand on the back of Stiles’ head. “Dad? Is everything ok?” But rather than stumble through an apology he knew Stiles would claim wasn’t necessary and never accept he said something else long over due.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Are you sure everything is alright?” John huffed a laugh and let Stiles go.

“Yeah. Yep, everything’s fine.” he nodded, “I just, needed you to know that.” He gave Stiles a pat on the shoulder and a smile. Stiles gave him a skeptical gaze in return.

“Ooooookay then.” And with that Stiles stepped around him and disappeared down the stairs.

“I’m sorry you were forced to be your own protector because I wasn’t there.” John whispered to himself before following Stiles down to the kitchen.

———

2. Lydia

She watched Stiles push the sleeves of his flannel up his elbows while he talked to Derek and Scott and for the first time took notices of the scars cross crossing up his arms. Most were extremely faded, but they were there nonetheless. It made her conscious of her own scars, both physical and mental. She brushed her fingers across the ghost of a bruise around her neck.

With so many physical scars she knew he must have just as many, if not more, mental ones. She wanted so badly to ask how many more he had. To know his scars better than he did, but at the same time if she wasn’t ready to divulge that information how could she expect someone else to do so?

When he sat down beside her she casually looped her arm through his and brushed her fingers across the scars on the inside of his arm. Hoping he knew everything she couldn’t say in front of so many others. Hoping he knew that his scars marked him as survivor and nothing less.

———

3. Scott

Scott stood in the shallow end of the pool waiting for the others to join him. He grinned as he watched Mason grab Corey around the waist and throw him in before jumping in after him. He saw the look in Malia’s eyes and smelled the excitement wafting off her as she approached Lydia and grinned before giving her a shove into the pool. Lydia came up sputtering, glaring daggers at Malia, who only laughed in response.

“Stiles! You coming in?” Scott smacked the water, splashing it up the side of the pool and over the edge. Stiles was in his trunks, but still had his shirt on and didn’t seem too keen on taking it off.

“Nah. Not right now.” Scott frowned. He put his hands on the edge of the pool and went to hoist himself out, but stopped when he caught sight of the scar running diagonally up the back of Stiles right leg. It took him back to a different summer. A summer so many years ago that it felt like another lifetime.

The summer Stiles learned to ride a bike was the same summer Scott learned to roller skate. They went through a lot of bandaids that summer and left a lot of blood on the pavement between their houses. There were many crashes and an embarrassing amount of tears looking back. But one crash in particular came to Scott’s mind when he saw Stiles newer scar.

They’d crashed into each other and went down hard. Stiles drove a rock into his knee. Scott remembered the blood and he remembered calmly helping Stiles into the house where he found the first aid kit, pulled the rock out of Stiles knee, cleaned up the wound and bandaged him up. When it eventually scabbed over Stiles had a hard time resisting the urge to pick at it when he wore shorts. Which led to it scarring. And even now that same scar sat across his kneecap, looking so much smaller than Scott remembered.

It made Scott conscious of how much had changed. It made him conscious also, of the fact that while Stiles body held the proof that he was a fighter, a survivor, Scott’s own body no longer did. And while he knew it was kind of a ridiculous thing to be sad about, that didn’t change the fact that he was jealous of Stiles for bearing the marks of hard fought battles.

———

4. Malia

Malia let her eyes wander the expanse of Stiles’s chest and stomach. Pale, freckled skin marked with faded scars. She ran her fingers across his scars and felt him shiver. It had taken a lot of coaxing to get Stiles to take his shirt off. But taking off her own had done the trick. What puzzled her most was his reasoning. Embarrassment was kind of a foreign concept to Malia.

“I don’t think your scars are ugly.” She said after tracing them for several seconds. “It makes you seem so. . .so human.” She watched her own claw nick her wrist and heal instantly.

“I think that’s why I hate them.” Stiles confessed. “They’re a constant reminder that I’m weaker than you. Just a fragile human.”

“Well, you are.” Malia said, brows furrowing. “But you remind the rest of us what’s at stake. Or at least, you remind me. I think I need the reminder that some things take time to heal and even when they do you can’t forget they happened.” She really traced his scars again. “Do you have any others?” Stiles laughed and pulled her down into a kiss before rolling them over so he straddle her.

“You should explore and find out.” Malia would happily spend hours mapping out Stiles scars. And although she would never admit it, she would often compare Scott’s blank canvas to Stiles’ colorful portrait of scars.

———

5. Derek

“Is it-” Derek started, then seemed to think better of it. They were sitting together on the couch in Derek’s loft. Despite having started out at opposite ends Stiles was now almost plastered to Derek’s side.

“Is what?” Stiles asked, throwing his legs over Derek’s.

“Never mind.”

“C’mon big guy, tell me what’s on your mind.” Derek raised his eyebrows.

“Big guy?”

“It felt like a ‘big guy’ moment. Now stop stalling.” Derek sighed and looked at the ceiling like, ‘why me?’ before meeting Stiles eyes again. His ears were turning pink.

“Is it strange to look down and see a permanent reminder of the pain someone else caused you?” He spoke softly, as if afraid of offending Stiles.

“What d’you mean?” Stiles shifted to see him better. Derek gently grabbed Stiles’s arm and pushed his sleeve up.

“To see this scar and know exactly who hurt you and when. Isn’t that kind of strange?” Stiles pondered it for a few seconds.

“Strange isn’t the right word.” He finally said, laying his head against the back of the couch and staring at the ceiling. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t have them, that I didn’t have to be reminded of all the times I almost died or the times I hurt someone else, but at the end of day a lot of them aren’t symbols of weakness. But strength, y’know? Like I made it through something awful and maybe I still carry the marks from it, but all they are now is proof that I’m stronger than I think.”

“What about the others?” Derek asked, taking Stiles’s hand in his own. Stiles closed his eyes.

“Some are reminders that I’m more of a monster than any supernatural creature I’ve ever met.” Derek frowned.

“You’re not a monster.”

“D’you have any idea-” Stiles’s voice cracked, “any idea, what it feels like to be disgusted by your own body?” The sorrow and guilt rolling off of Stiles was almost overwhelming Derek.

“More than you could ever imagine.” Stiles shifted and turned his back to Derek. He lifted his shirt to show the scar from the bite from the lamprey on Donovan’s hand.

“I will never be free of the knowledge that I chose to kill someone, Derek! And I have to live with that choice for the rest of my life!” Tears slid down Stiles cheek and he was quick to brush them away.

“Stiles, killing in self defense isn’t the same thing as murder.” Stiles let his shirt fall back down, but didn’t turn to look at Derek again. Derek gently grabbed his wrist.

“The days it’s hardest to believe that are the days I’m glad I have my other scars.” Stiles whispered. He finally shifted around to face Derek again, eyes rimmed with red. He lifted the front of his shirt to show a large vertical scar almost in the center of his chest. “I cheated death. More than once. And I never want to forget the weight what it really means to be alive. Or they weight of what it means to take a life, no matter what they may have done.” He let his shirt drop again and ground the heals of his hands into his eyes.

“I’ve heard that scars tell a story. Since I don’t scar I wasn’t sure how true that was,” Derek started. “And I’ve never wanted scars of my own, but anyone can tell you’re a fighter. A survivor.” He pulled Stiles back to his side. “Some ghosts haunt you forever. Even if they lose their voice, you’ll spend the rest of your life seeing them out of the corner of your eye. But I promise,” Derek pressed a kiss to Stiles’s temple and felt him relax against him, “you’re not the only who’s haunted.”

———

+1. Stiles

“Why can’t you just fucking do what you’re told?!” Scott spat. For the shortest of seconds Stiles saw Derek’s expression change. But as quick as it appeared it was gone again. However distress continued to swim in Derek’s eyes as Scott berated him.

“Knock it off!” Stiles finally yelled. Scott turned to him, eyes flashing red for a second. Stiles stood his ground, fist clenched, brows raised. “Fuck off with your alpha bullshit!” Derek took an almost imperceptible step away from Scott. Stiles liked to consider himself an observant person. Most of time. Research was his thing after all. But he’s not sure how he missed this.

Malia stepped up behind Derek and rested her hand on his shoulder. He flinched and pulled away from her. Stiles didn’t have a werewolf’s ability to hear heartbeats or smell chemosignals, but he could tell Derek was anxious and distraught. Derek closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Stiles snapped.

“Everybody out! Now!” Everyone looked taken aback by Stiles second outburst and such a small amount of time. “Get out!” He yelled again. Hesitantly everyone headed for the door of the loft. Scott was the last to go, he growled and kept his red eyes on Stiles. “You too. Out!” Still looking annoyed Scott left, slamming the door behind him. Stiles glared at the door for several seconds before turning back to Derek. Derek was facing away from him, bent over the table, hands clutching the edge of it so tight his knuckles were white.

“Derek?” Stiles asked; stepping up behind him and tentatively rested his hand on Derek’s shoulder. Stiles knew, of course, that werewolves don’t scar, but he met Derek’s electric blue eyes and in a moment of stunning clarity realized that maybe Derek was just as scarred as he was, his just weren’t visible to the naked eye. Tears collected in Derek’s eyes.

“Don’t touch me.” He whispered, voice so soft Stiles didn’t hear him.

“What?”

“Don’t touch me.” Derek said louder. Stiles pulled his hand back like he’d been burned. Stiles felt so stupid. Who had done this to him? Derek’s fists clenched and unclenched. His eyes flickered from they’re natural color to electric blue and back again. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.

“Der-” Stiles cut himself off as Derek roared and shoved everything off the table. He grabbed the edge of the table again, sinking his claws into it, and his shoulders started to shake.

“It’s been eleven years, Stiles. Eleven! And I still hear her telling me I’m not enough and I need to do better.” Derek said, “I can still feel her hands on me, feel her tongue on me.” He choked back a sob. “I just want to be rid of her! Why-” his voice cracked, “why can’t I get rid of her?”

“I wish I could tell you.” Stiles thought about his own ghosts. Allison. Aiden. Donovan. The countless people that died while he was possessed by the nogitsune. How many did Derek have? How many that he’d never let anyone see before? “What I can tell you is that you don’t need to be embarrassed or ashamed of your scars.” Stiles stepped a little closer. “And I’m sorry that no one’s taken the time to get to know your scars and your ghosts. But if you’ll let me I want to take the time and learn them, until I know them better than you do.” He rested his hand on the table beside Derek’s. Derek turned and grabbed Stiles, pulling him into the tightest hug he’d ever had. He pressed his face into the crook of Stiles neck and cried. Stiles wrapped one arm around Derek’s waist as best he could and wound the fingers of his other hands through Derek’s hair. And then he said something he wasn’t sure Derek had ever heard before. He made a promise he would keep until his dying breath. “As long as I’m around you never have to fight your demons alone.”

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek #eternalsterek #scott mccall #malia tate #Malia hale #lydia martin #sheriff stilinski #sheriff stilinski’s name is John #canon can suck my non existent dick #ficlet #Drabble #mine mine mine #had this one unfinished in the drafts for a looooong time now #tbh I actually really like this one #no beta we die like men

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dailyscottficrec · 1 year

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April 26, 2023

Homeward Bound by ahscotty

Author summary:

Set during the war; post season 6. Alan and Scott on a long drive home.

Reasons to love the fic: The way I love a drabble, just in general. And this one paints such a vivid picture of such a sweet moment between Alan and Scott? Uhm? Yes, please! This is a lovely fic.

Be sure and let the author know if you enjoy the fic!

#teen wolf #scott mccall #alan deaton #drabble #post canon #april 26 2023

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parrish-imagines-tw · 1 year

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I’m active again!!! Will be taking requests for all characters in Teen Wolf. Shoot me a message!

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #brett talbot #liam dunbar #teen wolf cast #isaac lahey #scott mccall #teen wolf drabble #stiles stilinski #jordan parrish #derek hale #lydia martin #theo raeken #mason hewitt #eli hale

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storytelller-drabbles-english · 6 years

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«Teen Wolf». Scott McCall/Isaac Lahey/Allison Argent/Scott McCall. "I love you, Isaac"

I write in Russian and use a translator. If you find any errors, please let me know about it.

___

Scott called Lahey to his bed. No, there was nothing like that, they just fell asleep peacefully.

With McCall, Isaac fell asleep easily, quickly and without nightmares.

The next morning Isaac woke up before Scott. It was a habit developed over the years of living with my father: to wake up before Leahy Sr., so that he wouldn't be late and then the guy wouldn't have to sit in the basement.

He went out into the corridor and as quietly and carefully as possible went into the bathroom to wash and brush his teeth. He took his toothbrush and toothpaste with him.

***

When Scott woke up, he didn't see Lahey in the room. Worried, the guy jumped out of bed and, throwing on a T-shirt and pants, went in search of curly.

While McCall Jr. was looking for Isaac, he had already washed and left the bathroom.

"Good morning," the black—haired man greeted the guy.

"Morning," Isaac smiled back.

While the Alpha was washing, the blue-eyed one had already gone down to the kitchen, where Melissa, who had a day off today, was preparing breakfast.

Later, the second werewolf came to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Mom," Scott kissed his mother on the cheek.

The nurse smiled:

"Good morning, boys. Sit down to breakfast."

While Mrs. McCall was putting the meat and side dishes on the plates, McCall Jr. took three forks and three knives and put one of the cutlery to his mother, Isaac, and kept one for himself and only after that sat down on his chair.

After breakfast, Melissa quickly ran to the store to buy groceries, shouting to Isaac and Scott not to be late for school.

***

When the guys came to the school, they met Allison there, who began to throw herself on Scott's neck, saying that she missed him terribly and kissing him, however, only on the cheek. She pointedly ignored Isaac.

McCall wanted to get out of the girl's arms as soon as possible and finally go to lessons.

And Lahey now felt nothing for Alli but anger and wild resentment.

***

"Today you will work in pairs," the chemistry teacher announced to the whole class, "I will pick up a pair for you myself."

He read out the list of couples for today's lesson, a list he had made himself. Those who had already recognized their mate retreated to this person.

In the end, there were only four guys left:

"Stiles and Danny, McCall and Lahey! That's it, now I'll give you the task sheets and you can get to work."

The teacher walked through the rows and handed out the leaves.

Isaac began to shake, he remembered how his father threatened to lock him in the refrigerator if his son did not give a grade for a chemistry test. These memories are now so clearly in front of the guy's inner eye that the werewolf began to shake his head from side to side, as if trying to drive away unpleasant visions.

Scott touched the guy's shoulder:

"Isaac?" McCall said excitedly, peering into Lahey's face, "what's wrong with you?"

At first, the blue-eyed man wanted to say that everything was fine, but decided that they would not believe him and raised his hand to be allowed to leave.

Scott followed him out.

***

Isaac silently cried in the toilet, praying that no one would come to calm him down, as he was sure that he would cope with this condition himself.

But then McCall came into the toilet, who sat down next to Isaac and sat in silence for a while.

"I love you, Isaac," the Alpha suddenly confessed to the crying guy.

The latter, not immediately realizing that it was to him, and not, for example, to himself, Scott was addressing, turned an incredulous look at him and bit his lip.

"No one can love me," he said dully, lowering his eyes to the floor, "no one needs me.

"Who told you that?" Scott frowned.

Lahey closed his eyes.

"Father," he said even more softly, "and... and Allison…"

The black-haired man wanted to smile, but Isaac is very serious.

"Why do you believe them?" asked the red—eyed one, "why can't you believe me?" he really doesn't understand why Isaac believes his father, who treated him like a doormat, and Allison, who simply trampled on his feelings.

Isaac shrugged his shoulders:

"They're just close to me. Father... well, this is my father, and Allison..." he sighed heavily, "I love Allison... I loved... I don't know!" he exclaimed, "now I don't know anymore..." the guy added more quietly.

McCall Jr. lowered his eyes to the floor.

"Are you sure you love me?" Lahey still doubted what his classmate said.

The werewolf looked him straight in the eye:

"Yes," the red-eyed man whispered, "absolutely…"

Isaac squinted at the Alpha incredulously, wondering whether to believe him or not.

On the one hand, the black-haired man had never deceived him before and, it seems, was not even going to.

But on the other hand, why would Scott (Scott McCall, who recently dated Argent!) suddenly say that he loves Isaac.

It was all very strange somehow.

"And how long have you realized that you love me?" curly asked.

McCall Jr. shrugged his shoulders:

"After Derek kicked you out of his pack and you came to me."

Isaac shook his head and laughed hysterically:

"You couldn't love me," his voice broke, "you don't need me either."…

He jumped up, yanked the door and ran out into the empty corridor.

***

A week has passed. Lahey avoided Scott at school and never came home to him again.

But Isaac came to the McCall house on the next full moon, when Scott, who could not completely restrain his inner wolf on this full moon, was lying on the floor, chained to the battery and just whining. Of course, he turned, but he could think sensibly and stayed at home, knowing that mom was on night duty and would come home, at best, by lunch.

Isaac quietly went into the room where Scott was, and McCall Jr., hearing curly's footsteps, did not react in any way and continued to lie on the floor.

Lahey hesitated, and then said:

"Scott, it's me, Isaac. Please forgive me, I've been acting like a total jerk."

McCall raised his head and looked in surprise at the guy, who seemed genuinely remorseful for his behavior. Was he remorseful for rejecting Scott's love?

"I'm sorry, please..." Isaac whispered, clenching and unclenching his fists.

He stayed with Scott overnight.

***

In the morning, when McCall woke up, Lahey was there.

From that day on, they always fell asleep and woke up together.

#teen wolf #teen wolf drabble #scisaac #scott mccall #scott mccall drabble #isaac lahey #isaac lahey drabble

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way-2-bored · 2 years

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Y/N: Are we all going to just ignore the fact that Derek and Peter just told us they're gonna kill Jackson?

Stiles: Hmmm, Jackson, never heard of em

Lydia: Let him die

Allison: Fuck that dick

Scott: GUYS!! NO BAD, WE'RE THE GOOD GUYS. REMEMBER?

Y/N: I don't really care to much for Jackson, but I'm not getting near Peter. Dude seems like the type to leave the tomato on his burger, what a walking red flag

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whumpdoyoumean · 10 months

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Writing Sketch #1

About a month ago I made this post about doing a writing equivalent of posting sketches, and then promptly didn't do anything about it. Well I'm finally posting one! All of these will be tagged with "writing sketch" and "writing doodles"

This is a fic idea that I had and started writing when I was in high school (circa 2015). It's a Teen Wolf AU set in the world of the UnWind series by Neal Schusterman. In it, Stiles and Scott are runaways (AWOLs) being chased by Peter Hale. Derek, known as the Alpha, helps runaways escape to a hidden community that provides refuge to AWOL kids (Isaac, Allison, Lydia, Jackson, Erica, and Boyd were all going to be there). Melissa was going to be there as a nurse, and the Sheriff was also going to be there in some capacity. I never ended up writing the thing (except what's below), but it was going to be whumpy as hell (obviously)

xxx

“Stiles, we’re three hundred miles from home. I highly doubt anyone knows us here. I’ve still got a little cash, and we haven’t had a decent meal in days. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Stiles snorted. “Oh, I dunno Scott. It could be that news has gotten out about two rogue AWOLS who tranq Juvie cops. We could be taken by a couple of them and unwound in camps. Or we could be drugged and taken by parts pirates and unwound in an old warehouse somewhere with rusty tools and no anesthetic. Or maybe there’s a serial killer who targets teenage boys, and he-”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Scott interrupted with a glare.

Stiles sighed. “Look, I just don’t think it’s a good idea, that’s all.”

“You can order bacon and eggs,” Scott said in a sing-songy voice, smiling inwardly as he saw Stiles’s face change, his resolve clearly shaken. Scott went in for the kill. “Banana pancaaaaakes.”

Stiles crumbled. “Fine! We’ll go get breakfast in town! But if we get caught, they will be down one unwind because I will kill you. Got it?”

Scott grinned. “Fair enough.” They walked in silence, and fifteen minutes later they were at the edge of a small town.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Stiles asked.

“Banana pancakes,” Scott replied.

It was enough of an answer for Stiles and he led the way in search of something to eat. They settled on a tiny diner, a family owned dive that looked like it hadn’t seen any renovations since the 1970s. It had a cozy, friendly feel to it, and Scott felt immediately at ease. Stiles still seemed a bit on edge, but that was just the way he was. By the time the waitress, an older lady with curly hair, and a smile that could light up the room, came to take their orders though, he’d relaxed a little and actually seemed to be enjoying himself.

They didn’t talk much as they waited for breakfast, but that was okay. They’d been friends their entire lives since becoming roommates at the ward house. They’d also been getting into trouble together just as long--hence the dual unwind orders, and the subsequent Being on the Lam together. The waitress was back before they knew it, and the the sight and smell of an actual meal set Scott’s mouth to watering and his stomach to growling.

“I’m gonna savor this,” he said, dousing his French toast with syrup. He was mildly amused but not surprised to see that Stiles was already scarfing his food, barely stopping even to take a breath. Scott took his first bit and immediately understood Stiles’ impulse to shovel his food.

The hot, syrupy decadence of roadside breakfast was in sharp contrast to the dry, tasteless protein bars they’d been living on for the last week, and his immediate desire was to put as much of the sticky goodness into his body in as little time as possible. By the time he was done, his face and fingers were sticky and he had a full stomach, aching a little in a way that wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

“That,” Stiles said emphatically, “was a wonderful idea.” Scott raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me I was right?”

Stiles made a face. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Oh, man. If we hadn’t had to ditch our cells, I would record that and set it as my ringtone.”

“Ha ha ha,” Stiles said sarcastically, but there was a smile in his eyes. “Enjoy it while you can. That’s the last time you’ll ever hear that from me.”

Scott laughed. The waitress chose that moment to come check in. “How is every-oh!” She looked at the already empty plates with wide eyes and raised eyebrows and Scott couldn’t help but laugh. Apparently, it was catching, because Stiles joined in, and so did the waitress. When she returned a few minutes later with the bill, all they found was a note that said, “This one’s on us.”

For the moment, the world, and the people in it, were good.

XXX

“Let’s turn down this alley,” Stiles said under his breath.

“What? Why?”

“Just do it!” Stiles hissed, grabbing Scott’s arm and dragging him into a long, narrow alley between two brown brick buildings. He ducked down behind a dumpster and Scott, perplexed, did the same.

“What’s going on?” Scott whispered.

“I think we’re being followed.”

“What?”

“There was this guy at the cafe who left right after we did and I’m pretty sure he’s tailing us,” Stiles explained quickly, his voice shaking. He felt his muscles tensing as adrenaline flooded his system, fight-or-flight kicking in.

“You’re just being paranoid,” Scott said, standing.

“No!” Stiles cried, just as a crack split the air.

“Shit!” Scott yelled, collapsing back behind the dumpster with his hands over his head and his eyes wide. “Shit, Stiles, that was a real bullet!”

Stiles’s heart sped up and his mind raced. “Okay, Scott, I need you to distract him.”

“What?! How?”

“I don’t know!” Stiles hissed, pulling his backpack off. “Talk to him!” Stiles shuffled through the contents of his bag, pulling what he needed out as he found it. Meanwhile, Scott started yelling at the gunman.

“You know, Juvie cops aren’t allowed to carry real bullets, much less fire them at kids!”

“I’m not a cop!” the man called back.

“Parts pirate then? Well, you can’t very well sell parts of a dead kid!” Scott shouted, a hint of desperation in his voice.

“I find real bullets much more effective in discouraging dipshit kids from running! Besides, I don’t shoot to kill, and a mostly good body still fetches quite a price on the black market!”

“Get ready to run,” Stiles muttered to Scott. Scott nodded. Stiles pulled a lighter out of his pocket and held the flame up to the soaking rag that was hanging out of the bottle of whiskey he’d dug out of his bag.

“Go!” Stiles shouted. In one swift motion, he stood and hurled the makeshift Molotov cocktail at the parts pirate and took off running behind Scott. He heard glass shattering and a shout and looked over his shoulder.

The bottle had hit the man’s shoulder, and flames were spreading across his shirt and licking at his neck and face. The man let out a howl of rage and pain and began firing, shooting wildly and blindly a few times before hitting the ground and rolling, putting out the flames that had engulfed him before falling still.

Scott had stopped a few feet ahead and Stiles slowed to a halt beside him.

“What...the hell...was that?” Scott asked breathlessly.

“Molotov...Molotov cocktail. I snagged the whiskey from the warden’s desk before we left.”

Scott smiled and let out a nervous laugh. “Damn.”

Stiles smiled too and turned from the smoking form on the ground, heading toward the open end of the alley, Scott on his heels. Then, several things happened at once: a black car pulled up, blocking the end of the alley; behind them, the parts pirate rose to his feet and raised his weapon.

They were trapped.

“That way!” Stiles shouted, pushing Scott toward the car. The back door opened and the car’s window rolled down, revealing a scruffy young man no more than a few years older than them.

“Get in!” he cried.

The space between the the boys and the car shrank. Three yards, two, one, a foot. Scott was in the car and Stiles was about to follow him when a crack sounded and a hot, piercing pain shot through his back, near his right hip. He let out a cry and hit the ground, just in front of the open car.

“Stiles!” Scott cried, grabbing him under the arms and dragging him into the car as the parts pirate screamed, “I’m going to kill you!”

Stiles pulled the door shut and the car sped away with a squeal, shot ricocheting off of the metal.

“He okay?” the driver asked, glancing into the rearview mirror.

Scott was pale, and he was staring at something. “I think it’s a through and through,” he answered, his voice tight.

Stiles blinked heavily, not sure what Scott meant. The pain in his back was making his head foggy, and he was suddenly exhausted. There was pain in his front, too, which was confusing, and he looked down with a frown, startled to see blood soaking the front of his shirt.

“Wh...what is this?” He mumbled, putting his hand over the place where the sticky red substance seemed to be coming from.

“I think that’s where the bullet came out,” Scott answered, only his voice sounded funny. Stiles’s head started to nod, but Scott’s voice snapped him out of it. “Don’t sleep! Stiles, you have to stay awake.”

Stiles blinked slowly. He felt strange, sort of floaty.

“Stiles? Stiles, you with me?” Scott’s voice was far away, and Stiles didn’t have the strength to answer. He tried to stay awake like Scott said, but the black at the edge of his vision was growing.

It didn’t take long to suffocate him.

XXX

“He’s unconscious and he won’t wake up!” Scott cried, his heart hammering wildly. His chest was getting tight, his throat threatening to close. It was getting harder to breathe, and he reached for his inhaler. It wasn’t in his pocket. He checked the other one. It wasn’t there, either. Shit.

“You looking for this?” the driver of the car asked, holding up the inhaler. Scott grabbed it and puffed the medicine, grateful as his airways relaxed and opened. “You left it on the seat at the diner. I figured you might need it.”

Scott nodded, breathing deeply. “Yeah. Thanks. Look, Stiles needs help. Where are you taking us?”

“Somewhere safe. We’ve got doctors there for exactly this kind of thing. He’ll be okay. My name’s Derek, by the way. I’ve been following you two since Beacon Hills.”

Scott felt his eyes widen. “Derek Hale. The Alpha.”

Derek looked at him in the rearview mirror. “That’s what they call me, yeah.”

#writing sketch #my writing #my fic #fanfic #whump fic #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #teen wolf au #unwind #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles whump #drabble #wip #writing doodles

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