𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜 - 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚔𝚒 𝚇 𝙾𝙲

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎

I gasped, abruptly waking up from my unconscious state, and a jolt of pain shot through my hand. I glanced down to find it carefully wrapped in gauze, indicating someone had tended it. As I took in my surroundings, a sense of comfort washed over me when I realized I was in Stiles' room.

My attention shifted to the drowsy figure next to me. Stiles had his arm wrapped around my body, his deep breaths accompanied by soft snores escaping his slightly open mouth. It was as if he had instinctively pulled me close, seeking to protect me even in his sleep. I smiled softly at the sight.

"Stiles," I whispered, my voice gentle, hoping to rouse him. He let out another groan but remained asleep. I lightly tapped his face, trying to stir him awake. "Stiles..." I repeated, my touch becoming slightly more persistent. "Oh, baby. That's naughty," he mumbled, a sleepy smirk forming on his lips.

Not again with that shit... "Not again with that shit," I muttered playfully, my smile widening despite my attempt to sound stern. "Stiles!" This time, my tone was firm, and I raised my voice, hoping to jolt him awake. Despite my annoyance, I couldn't help but find amusement in his sleep-induced mutterings.

He stirred, responding to the sound of his name but still not fully conscious. "That's right, baby, say my name," he mumbled in his half-awake state.

Letting out a sigh, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I twirled my finger in the air before pointing it at Stiles, summoning a small spark of energy that zapped him on the forehead. His eyes flew open, wide with surprise and confusion. "W-what!" he exclaimed, jolting upright in bed.

I couldn't help but find amusement in his startled reaction, and a mischievous chuckle escaped my lips. I blew on my finger as if it were a smoking gun, reveling in the playful moment. "Finally," I teased, a smile returning to my face.

Stiles huffed, clearly not amused by my little trick, and his expression quickly shifted from surprise to relief as he realized I was awake. "You're awake! You've been asleep for 2 days," he informed me, his relief evident in his voice.

The news caught me off guard, and my surprise must have been evident on my face as Stiles's expression shifted to one of sympathy. I'm really starting to dislike that look.

"Two days?" I mumbled, brushing my hair out of my face in an attempt to gather my thoughts. Stiles nodded, his voice barely above a whisper as he pulled me into a comforting hug. I rested my head against his chest, finding solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Confusion swirled in my mind as I tried to make sense of the situation. "How... why?" I asked, searching for an explanation.

Stiles gently stroked my hair, tucking a few strands behind my ear. "Deaton said it was likely because of the immense power you absorbed. It took a toll on your body," he explained, his touch and a kiss on the top of my head providing comfort and reassurance.

Memories began to piece together, fragments flashing through my mind. Images of my ancestors, the white room, the tub, cutting my hand, and finally, kissing Stiles. "Do you remember anything?" he asked nervously. I nodded, my gaze turning upward to meet his eyes once again. But then, it happened. I gasped as my eyes widened, flooded with a rapid succession of images—glimpses into Stiles's entire life.

'"I love you, Stiles!"

My bloodied mouth meeting his.

"Malia!" Stiles screaming and running.

Stiles spitting out water while looking at a screen in an FBI intern class.

Stiles sitting on a couch, a baby asleep on his chest, both peacefully resting.