"SO, HAVE YOU GOTTEN AROUND TO TELLING HER YET?" Sheriff Stilinski asked, looking over at his son, who was shoving curly fries into his mouth. The two Stilinskis sat in the iconic blue Jeep, parked in their driveway, sharing a quiet dinner after a long day.
With a raised eyebrow, Stiles spoke around the food, his fresh buzz cut making him look both younger and more vulnerable. "What are you talking about?" His voice was muffled, but Noah had no problem understanding him.
The older man chewed thoughtfully. "Margot. Have you told her you like her yet?" It was a casual question, but the immediate choking sputter from the driver's seat confirmed Noah's suspicion: his son had no idea how transparent he was.
Stiles pulled his soda away, coughing. "Margot? I don't like MJ. I mean, I like her, she's my best friend, but I don't, you know... like her."
"Stiles—"
"Okay! Fine, Jesus Christ, Dad. I love her! Are you happy?" Stiles blurted out, throwing his hands up in defeat.
His dad chuckled. "I was just going to ask you to pass the fries, but thanks for sharing." He smirked, grabbing a curly fry. "But since we're on the topic... how'd you think I knew?"
"You're not exactly subtle, son. Every time Margot is around, you look at her like she's the sun and you're seeing her for the first time."
Stiles sighed, his head thumping against the window. "Well, to answer your original question, no. I haven't told her. I don't think I ever will."
"Why not? What's the worst that could happen?"
"She could hear me," Stiles flailed. "Besides, she'd never go for me. I'm just Stiles. The guy who proposed to her with a Haribo ring when we were four."
"And what did she say?" Noah prompted, a knowing glint in his eye.
"...She said yes," Stiles mumbled.
"Exactly. If she said yes to a marriage proposal, I think she'd say yes to a date."
"Dad, we were four!" Stiles reminded him, but a small, dangerous hope began to bloom in his chest. His father spoke of the way he and Stiles' late mother used to look at each other, and for a moment, Stiles let himself imagine it. He imagined MJ kissing him to stop one of his rants, imagined her hand in his not just for comfort, but for love. The thought of her with someone else felt like thorns tightening around his heart.
His dad was right. He had to tell her.
"You're right," Stiles said, a nervous energy filling him. "I need to tell her. Now."
Noah grinned victoriously, grabbing his food and hopping out of the Jeep. "Go get her, son!"
Before the door was even fully closed, the Jeep roared to life and sped down the street towards MJ's house.
---
The confidence that had fueled his drive evaporated on her porch. His hands shook as he knocked. When the door opened, there she was. Margot James wasn't classically beautiful, but she was stunning in her ordinariness—tall, with fair hair in a messy up-do and a smile that made slight dimples and creased her freckles.
"Stiles!" she said, her voice laced with genuine happiness. "What are you doing here?"
"I just wanted to see you," he said, his own smile feeling fragile. He gestured to the porch swing. "Can we sit?"
As they sat, the words tumbled out. "There's one thing I've never said aloud, never even mumbled to myself. One thing I've kept to myself since we were four years old in that sandbox with Scott... You don't know that I—"
An obnoxious honk cut through the evening quiet.
A black car was parked at the curb. Scott McCall's car.
Stiles' heart plummeted. "Scott?" he asked, turning back to MJ.
Her face fell. "Yeah... he asked me out. We're supposed to go out tonight."
The words hit him like a physical blow. A date. Scott was going to hold her hand, kiss her goodnight. He was going to be her boyfriend. And it was all because Stiles was too late.
He stood abruptly, pulling away from her. "No, you should go. This wasn't a big deal anyway."
"Stiles, it seemed like a big deal," she insisted, standing and taking his hand. "You come before everyone else. You know that."
But Scott was already walking up the path, smiling charmingly. "Hey, Margot. Stiles!"
The moment was shattered. The confession died in Stiles' throat. "You two have a good night," he managed, forcing a smile and walking away, ignoring MJ's soft plea of his name.
He didn't look back.
---
🌲 The Descent
Sitting in his Jeep, Stiles watched as MJ laughed at something Scott said. The sound, usually his favorite in the world, felt like a shard of glass in his heart. The "what ifs" swarmed him, breaking him down. What if he had just told her? What if she felt the same?
He couldn't bear it. He drove away, not towards home, but into the preserve. He walked into the woods, the shadows stretching and twisting, mirroring the turmoil inside him. He wandered blindly, too far, until the ground crumbled beneath his feet.
He fell into darkness.
The impact was jarring. He was in a cave, hidden and ancient. A hypnotic voice, layered and seductive, whispered from the depths. Compelled by a grief he couldn't process and a curiosity that overrode his fear, he followed it.
In the heart of the cave rested a single, ornate cup, filled with a liquid that glowed with a malevolent, crimson light. It pulsed with a promise of power, of an end to the pain, of never feeling weak or being too late again.
Driven by a despair he no longer had the strength to fight, Stiles Stilinski drank.
⚡ The Rebirth
Agony. Pure, searing agony erupted in every cell. It was fire and ice, a tearing apart and a violent reconstruction. His body convulsed on the cold stone, veins burning black as the three potent essences fought for dominance inside a mortal vessel.
· The Vampiric curse hardened his flesh, sharpened his senses, and promised eternal strength.
· The Siphoner spark awoke, a void within him screaming to be filled, ready to absorb and dominate all supernatural energy.
· The Void Kitsune spirit slithered into his soul, a creature of chaos and illusion, whispering secrets of fear and shadow.
For nine hours, he lay dead to the world. The cave's ancient magic wove the conflicting powers together, forging them into a single, unprecedented whole.
When his eyes snapped open, it was not with human sight. He could see the heat radiating from the rocks, hear the scuttling of insects deep within the earth. He pushed himself up, his body responding with a fluid, powerful grace that was entirely foreign. His reflection in a stagnant pool of water showed a stranger: features sharper, eyes holding the cold light of the vampire and the swirling chaos of the void. The lanky, anxious boy was gone. In his place was something… more.
🌌 The Aftermath
He climbed out of the cave as the sun began to rise. The world was impossibly vivid, loud, and full of energy he could almost taste. The heartache for MJ was still there, a deep, resonant ache, but it was now overshadowed by a terrifying, exhilarating awareness.
He was no longer just Stiles Stilinski.
He was the First Voidborn. The Living Curse.
The missed opportunity with Margot had broken the human boy. But from those pieces, the True Tribrid had been born. And as he walked back towards a town blissfully unaware, he knew one thing for certain: nothing would ever be the same again. The End of Monsters had just begun.