Stiles · Y/n story by @millie1234

The water was cold. Not the clean, free cold of the open sea, but the stale, chemical chill of captivity. It pressed in from all sides, a solid weight against your gills.

Scott McCall

Oh, Stiles! Look, isn’t it beautiful?

A young man with warm brown eyes and an earnest face pointed directly at you, his smile wide and unguarded.

Stiles Stilinski

Whoa. That’s… new.

The new arrival, a lanky boy with sharp features and a mess of brown hair, stopped short at the edge of the dock, his eyes widening as he took in the tank. His gaze traveled from the top of the waterline down to where your tail fanned slowly, uselessly, in the confined space.

Peter Hale

A fascinating specimen, isn’t it? We found it in the preserve, in that old quarry lake. Derek managed to net it before it could dive too deep.

Derek Hale

stands a few feet back, arms crossed, his expression unreadable It’s strong. Had to reinforce the glass.

Lydia Martin

It’s not an ‘it,’ Peter. She’s clearly sentient. Look at her eyes.

A strawberry-blonde girl in a pristine jacket studied you with an analytical sharpness that felt more invasive than Scott’s wonder. Her observation was correct. You were looking right back at them, one hand pressed against the cold glass, searching for a seam, a weakness, any way out.