Preview of a Sterek fic currently titled “Torture Stiles” on my Scrivener
As I always say with previews, first draft warnings apply.
For those not in the know (aka: those who haven’t stuck with me through my myriad fandoms), first draft warnings include: Crappy sentance structure, word proximity issues, excessive use of both commas and adverbs, and foreshadowing about as subtle as an iron rod to the back of the skull. (You’ll see why that’s funny if you read the whole thing once I post it.)
Set in some weird place in which Derek is alpha, Boyd and Erica kind of just… exist in passing… and everyone is Pack and happy.
Check out some of my other stuff, maybe?
preview begins right below. Down there. Look. It’s totally there.
“Somebody needs to tell me what’s going on,” Stiles said, turning slowly in the middle of the burnt-out former living room of the Hale house, eying everyone in turn. Nobody met his eyes. Even Scott looked away, fingers tapping a staccato rhythm on his thigh. Isaac, Boyd, and Erica looked to Derek for guidance. Peter lounged on one of the scorched-but-not-completely-burnt chairs. Allison and Lydia looked pointedly at one another and Stiles got the feeling there was a full conversation going on there.
Stiles rounded on Derek, who was glaring at Scott as though he had personally offended him. “You are all at like DEFCON six hundred right now.”
“There are not six hundred levels of DEFCON,” Derek said, finally looking at him.