splinnters



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    Stiles has been a teapot for 3,308 days. // Scott skids into the door breathlessly and shouts, “THERE’S A GIRL IN THE CASTLE,” and promptly brains himself on one of the casserole dishes.

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    09 Jan 2026

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    “There was a fire. At the mall. I worked there? At Scoops Ahoy.”

    The way he says the last part sounds strange, like it’s really important somehow that Eddie believes him.

    “Okay,” he says, then adds, “Is that why you look like that?”

    Eddie’s never met a fire with fists, but he wants Steve to tell him what happened—not just assume.

    There’s a beat of silence, like Steve’s weighing his options, and Eddie knows a lie’s coming before Steve even opens his mouth.

    “Yeah. Building caved in. We made it out—Robin and I. Paramedics checked me over and said I couldn’t drive, so I decided to walk.”

    Almost ten miles, Eddie estimates. Sure. Totally normal thing to do in the middle of the night, battered and bruised, after escaping a fire.

    But he’s pretty sure that’s all he’s going to get, so he settles on, “Good thing I came along, then.”

    “Yeah.”

    -------------------------------------------

    Eddie doesn’t expect to find Steve Harrington half-dead on a dark road in the middle of the night — or to be the one he clings to after.

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    05 Dec 2025

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    Wilson frowns. “Who is Bob?”

    “Bob,” a chorus of voices echoes, as six hands gesture emphatically toward the reading chair.

    Wilson glances back and forth between Walker and Bob, his frown deepening. “You are saying these two are … engaged?” he asks, suspiciously.

    Yelena cannot blame him for having questions. Positioned on opposite sides of the room, not quite looking at each other, both very clearly unhappy with current developments, Walker and Bob certainly don’t look like a couple of newly engaged lovebirds. If anything, they look divorced.

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    01 Sep 2025

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    “Derek,” the guy with the hands says. He's still got his hands out, kind of reaching, kind of catching, kind of dropping to his sides. His voice is calm, but his eyes are too bright to sell it, and his heartbeat is out of control. “Are you—Do you know who we are?”

    Derek swallows, thinks. If this is a treaty thing, another pack thing, why would they care about him? He's not even the alpha-in-training, he's nothing. Mom doesn't even bother explaining most werewolf politics to him. He knows most of it from Laura, Peter, from passing packs who used to think it was cute to tell the youngest beta their complicated histories and have it repeated back to them around still-awkward fangs. Now that's Cora, and not recently, either—She says she's too big to play kid games.

    “No,” Derek decides. “Should I?”

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    05 Jun 2025

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    Derek shakes his head but Stiles can see the grin at the corner of his mouth as he bends at the knees and scoops up two of the heavy boxes easily as Stiles sets his own relatively light box in the truck. “I’m not as confrontational as Cora,” he says after a moment, “and if you ask Laura, I’m not nearly as much fun as she is. But … I hope it’s not too bad for you this year—with me. Without them.”

    Stiles watches the flex of his biceps as he lowers the boxes carefully into the bed of the truck, takes in the smear of dirt that’s left behind on his forehead when he reaches up and brushes his hair back, an action that’s so familiar to him from watching Derek play basketball in his driveway as a teenager on a person now so unknown. He leans against the tailgate, metal sunwarm against his thin t-shirt, and grins. “I never liked your sisters much, anyway,” he says, and tries not to let his heart beat too wildly when he catches the soft smile Derek aims at the ground as he turns to get more boxes.

    Series
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    Words:
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    03 Jun 2025