chapter twenty-one

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SMUT SMUT GUYS I WROTE SMUT OMGOMG ITS HAPPENING. IM SORRY IF ITS BAD IM NEW AT THIS HHHHHH

p.s. if you didn't get the message there's smut in this chapter so beware

saturday, august 2
the lupus lacum
third person pov

After Stiles had gasped out those words, things had dissolved into what could only be described as...'I don't know.'

Thomas remained in the agent's lap, trying to calm his frantic boyfriend. The Avengers were silent, the words "We lose" echoing emptily through their minds.

They really had no idea what to do now.

"I think I might know what we're facing."

Eyes darted to the blonde doctor who Stiles was still holding onto possessively.

Sighing Thomas, "But it can wait until the actual sun is up, yeah? Everyone calm down and get some sleep, we'll talk in the morning."

Everyone nodded and Thomas stood, grabbing Stiles by the hand. Dragging them back to their room, Thomas sank to the floor by the bed, pulling Stiles down next to him.

"What did you see?"

Knowing that them losing wasn't the only thing that affected his boyfriend to this extent, Thomas looked into whiskey coloured eyes. They were sad, pain filled, and Thomas felt his stomach churn.

"You were dead."

It was so short. So simple. Three words. Stiles choked on them, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Everyone was dead. Clint. Nat. Tony. Everyone."

Stiles picked at the duvet, his resolve of not crying again crumbling. "I don't want to go to war, I don't want to save the world if it means losing everyone I love," he looked up, meeting Thomas' eyes, "If it means losing you."

"You won't lose me."

Stiles shook his head, laughing without mirth, "You don't know that."

Thomas shrugged, "Maybe not, but I do know that you have to fight, because if you don't then you sure as hell will lose me. These things, if they are what I think they are, aren't trying to defeat us. They want to exterminate us."

The blonde curled up into Stiles' side, and the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent slumped against him gratefully, his voice soft, "Can we win?"

There was silence, but it was all Stiles really needed, because the words were left unspoken, hanging in the air.

I don't know.

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saturday, august 2
the lupus lacum
third person pov

"What are these things, doc?"

"As far as I can tell, the things doing this are basically aliens. The only word we have for them is, the Mastigia. It's literal translation is 'one who deserves a whipping' but the stories of these things, they deserve a lot more than a whipping.

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