Sterek one-shots

...And She Killed Him

I haven't posted because my friend passed away recently and it's finals. Here's something small that I just did. It's kinda sad but kinda not but kinda is. The picture is just cute.

----

And she laughed...

She laughed in his face as he stood there staring up at her, his heart crushed in her hands as she took everything away from him.

Why, what did he do wrong? He did everything she'd asked of him.

Because it was easy. Because he was easy. He was broken and misunderstood and his family looked down on him. He was the oldest boy, he was supposed to be strong, outgoing, he was supposed to be the next alpha. But no, he liked reading and drawing and would rather curl up in a puppy pile than run on the full moon and heaven forbid he hated fighting.

You're a werewolf dammit! Act like it! His dad hated him especially.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

Because he fell so fast. He fell so fast and so hard that the minute she ripped his entire life from him it sent a thrill through her body that made her shake and a maniacal laugh burst out her throat.

He wasn't healing. It wasn't a physical wound. He was ripped apart emotionally. Damaged in places that couldn't be sewn back together, blood oozing from the cracks and his body wept day after day for what she did. For what he let her do.

Because she killed him. Not literally but figuratively. She drained the life out of him and it was the best thing she'd ever felt. It's like she killed him except this was legal, partially anyways. He was too broken and fragile to speak up. She was too sneaky to leave behind any clues that led to her. She wanted to kill him and that's what she did.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

He remembers being forced on a plane after what felt like days after he was murdered. He knew his sister was speaking but he wasn't listening. The incessant begging in his ear was too much. He was numb, he was gone, he was physically there but mentally he was so far off he wasn't sure if he'd ever find his way back.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

Sister Laura stopped answering his phone calls. It'd been years since he'd died and he still hadn't found his way back but he was there again. He was speaking-barely, he graduated high school, was in college. His sister had found a good place and they'd stayed laced up into another pack but now...now sister Laura wasn't answering and he couldn't breathe. He felt like he was drowning and the crushing of his barely stitched together heart was deafening in his ears.

No. No. No. No. No. No.

Sister Laura. I'm sorry.

The next few months were crowded with teenagers and he couldn't breathe. Ash covered him, burnt flesh filled his nostrils coating his insides. Uncle Peter was just as far gone as him in a different aspect. He wanted to cry. He was truly alone now. He was dead.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

The pale teenager was sitting outside the police station. Legs swinging, scuffing against the ground as his lanky body was too long. Stiles smiled brightly when he saw him. His heart clenched and he sat next to Stiles. Stiles who smelt of hazelnut and chocolate and Adderall. Stiles blabbered on next to him and he wanted to cry. First love Paige spoke like him. First love Paige looked like him, smelled like him, reminded him. But first love Paige died and then so did everyone else along with himself and he can't let Stiles die.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

He finally cried. After all these years the dam finally broke and he let everything out at his spot in the woods. He couldn't breathe and his chest was tight. His vision was blurry. Nose running. But a warmth coursed through him as a hand gripped his shoulder.

Stiles.

No. No. No. No.

They'd found sister Cora. Sister Cora was alive and he cried. She rolled her eyes and told him to stop being such a sap.

She missed him too.

She assumed. She assumed that because he was close to Stiles, that because Stiles was perfect for the role of a Luna, that they were together. She assumed that Derek was happy. She assumed he'd let go of all the pain he carried with him.

They cried together when he told sister Cora about sister Laura and that he eventually found out it was Uncle Peter. He pushed Stiles away after they'd kissed. He shut out his makeshift little pack months leading up to the anniversary of his death.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

Stiles forced himself into the cracks. Never asked what was wrong, never pushed him to open up, always made sure he knew he was there. Stiles looked torn to bits when he was pushed away at their first attempt to be intimate.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

She killed him. She took every part of him and burnt it to the ground. He did what she asked. He always did what she asked.

What did I do wrong? I thought you wanted to?

He couldn't. He let her do what she wanted and she took that too. A tear slipped from his eye and Stiles' face dropped.

No, Bear. Stiles pulled him into a hug. He broke.

She killed him. Not physically, but mentally, emotionally, figuratively. She ripped him apart and tore everything he was away from him.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

He pieced him together. Friend Stiles. Boyfriend Stiles. Fiancé Stiles. Husband Stiles. Luna Stiles. Stiles. He pieced him together. He brought him back bit by bit and never told him to be more of a wolf. Never made him do things he wasn't sure about. Never brought up anything that was broken.

She killed him, but he resurrected him.

He saved his life.

----
I'm debating on making something similar but with Stiles. And maybe in my teen wolf one shot book I'd do the other pack members but I'm not sure.