#Stiles Stilinski x OC

[strangerstilinski]

𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐈 ✶ Teen Wolf Rewrite

Stiles Stilinski / Original Female Character

TW | S2

chapter three

summary; as if the last month and a half hadn't been stressful enough — now there were a few more werewolves, a kanima, and a seriously disturbed old man added into the mix. but amber, stiles, and scott could totally handle this. it would be fine. everything was great.

word count; 18,731

warnings; explicit sexual content, horny teenagers, first time sexual experiences, a heavy handed dose of Stiles' birth-name

chapter notes; lydia is struggling with visions of peter hale. erica reyes makes a memorable appearance. stiles and amber have their first date – among other firsts.

masterlist

c h a p t e r t h r e e

ice pick

Even though they only took part in it once a week, it was Amber's personal opinion that Physical Education was single-handedly the best of their weekly elective classes. Not only was it slotted into the first class period of the day, meaning they didn't have to sit through a sleep-inducing English lecture at eight in the morning, but it also meant that she was given the opportunity to watch Stiles get enticingly sweaty, up close and personal, for forty-five blissful minutes.

This Friday was, unfortunately, one of the less sweat inducing activities. Coach Finstock was timing each of them as they climbed the rock wall in pairs of two, jotting down their times on his clipboard as they all slowly took their turns.

Scott and Allison were currently hooked up to the wall, clearly bantering back and forth with flirty smiles as they climbed the tall structure at the far side of the gymnasium.

Stiles had his arms wrapped around Amber's stomach as he watched from his spot behind her, chin propped on her shoulder as he slouched over her body. He glanced at the side of her face and his next exhale puffed out loudly over her ear, causing her to flinch and tilt her head away from the noise.

"You're annoying." She laughed, blindly reaching up to push his face away gently with her hand.

He only tightened his arms around her waist and laughed, turning to dig his face into the crook of her neck in retaliation. She brought a hand up to rub over the short soft hair on top of his head as she watched Scott lose his grip on the rock wall and fall back toward the ground slowly with the protection of his harness.

Allison was looking down at Scott with a satisfied grin and Amber laughed along with most of the other students as Scott landed softly on his back on the cushioned floor mat.

Coach squatted down beside him, also laughing at Scott's misfortune, "McCall. I don't know why, but your pain gives me a special kinda joy." He chuckled again before standing up and looking at the students grouped in front of him. "Alright! Next two." Coach's eyes raked over the group as he chose his victims carefully, "Stilinski! Daehler!"

Amber was released as Stiles stepped up to the wall while Allison repelled back down. He took Allison's place in the harness as Matt Daehler hooked himself into Scott's. The boys readied themselves to climb and Coach prepared his timer, clicking at the buttons to reset the device.

"Woo! Go Matt!" Amber cheered encouragingly.

Stiles turned to scowl at her playfully in response to her taunts and she grinned wide. She was still smiling when Matt turned to face her as well and she gave him a friendly thumbs up just as Coach blew on his whistle loudly in indication for them to go.

Scott returned to stand beside her and he bumped her shoulder with his as Matt and Stiles started their ascent.

"That wasn't very nice." Scott laughed before cheering for their friend himself, "C'mon Stiles!"

The two boys both climbed quickly, hands and feet moving along the holds in a fast pace as they raced upward. Stiles managed to reach the top just a few seconds before Matt did and they both repelled back down as soon as they tapped in at the top of the wall.

"Alright, last up! Amber! Erica!" Coach Finstock yelled out next.

Amber jumped, not realizing they were already at the final two climbers, and she stepped up to take Stiles' harness from him with a grin.

"I'm not sure if you saw that but I totally made it to the top in like fifteen seconds." He boasted quietly, unnecessarily helping Amber tighten the straps on the harness around her waist.

"Oh, did you?" She asked airily, looking up from the harness as she took another step toward the wall, "I guess I must've missed that."

"Yeah, okay." Stiles said as he backed away, "Try not to fall on your cute little ass, alright?"

She snorted as she spun to face the wall and readied herself, peeking over at the girl beside her. Erica was frowning at the wall with worried eyes and Amber reached out to nudge her arm softly.

"Hey, you got this." Amber encouraged quietly.

Erica smiled tightly and nodded at her before looking up at the wall again just as Coach blew the whistle.

Amber took a breath and began to climb, finding a good handhold before she pulled herself up and stepped higher. She cycled through the motions in quick repetition until she reached the top of the wall and slapped her hand down against the ledge to mark her finish before quickly repelling back down to the ground.

When her feet touched down on the mats, she peered up to see where Erica was but found the blonde at a standstill only halfway up the wall.

"You can do it Erica." Amber called up gently.

The blonde was beginning to suck in loud wheezing breaths, still not making any moves to climb any further up the wall. Amber frowned worriedly and took a small step toward where the other girl's harness was set up on the wall.

"Erica!" Amber called up again, "Are you okay?"

Erica's breathing picked up into something harsher and Amber could hear her gasping breaths as she began to cry quietly.

Coach came up to stand behind Amber and yelled up toward the other girl as well, "Erica!" He shouted, "You dizzy? Is it vertigo?"

"Vertigo is a function of the vestibular system of the inner ear," Lydia's voice supplied suddenly from behind them, "She's just freaking out."

"Erica!" Coach shouted up at her again.

"I'm fine." Erica finally called back down weakly.

Amber stepped back up to the wall and began to climb up the center to get as close as she could to the place where Erica had stopped as conversation continued below them.

"Coach, maybe it's not safe," Allison said, "Y'know she's epileptic."

"Why doesn't anybody tell me these things?" Coach asked rhetorically as Amber finally reached the other girl halfway up the wall.

"Hey. You okay?" Amber asked her quietly.

"Yeah," Erica said unconvincingly, "I just- I can't do it."

"That's okay," Amber said quickly, "Let's just go back down-"

"I can't do that either." Erica shook her head frantically.

"Sure you can," Amber countered gently, "Seriously the harness won't let you fall, alright?"

"I'm scared." Erica whispered, pinching her eyes shut tight in embarrassment.

"Gimme your hand," Amber reached out toward the other girl and Erica's hands tightened on the holds of the wall, "Erica, I promise you won't fall down. Just take my hand and we'll go back down slowly. Together."

Erica's hand released and regripped the hold a few times shakily before she finally reached out the couple of inches that Amber's arm couldn't cover. The girl's grip tightened around Amber's hand anxiously at having lost one of her supports to the wall.

"Good. Now just, lean back a little bit and push off. Let the harness hold your weight and ropes will take us back down nice and slow. I promise." Amber assured her softly.

Erica nodded and pinched her eyes shut again as she pushed her feet off of the wall and they sank back down toward the floor in just a couple of short seconds. The moment their feet touched down, Erica dropped Amber's hand and began to pull off her harness.

"Shake it off." Coach told Erica as she dropped the harness to the ground at her feet, "You're fine."

"Hey, Erica-" Amber called out as she watched the other girl push through their classmates to head to the locker room.

Amber pulled at her own harness and her fingers fumbled with the straps as she tried to loosen them. She looked up and her eyes caught on Stiles standing a few feet away.

"Stiles! Would you help-" She called out in frustration, pulling at one of the buckles angrily. His hands were suddenly there with hers, undoing the harness easily, "-me."

"Better?" He asked with a soft smile.

"Yes. Thank you." She sighed in relief, taking his outstretched hand and stepping away from the wall.

"Yeah, don't mention it." He said before pausing, "I mean, I wouldn't stop you if you wanted really to thank me.. With, I dunno, a kiss or-"

She fisted her hand in the front of his tacky graphic tee and pulled his lips down against hers in a quick kiss before releasing him.

"Is that thanks enough?" She questioned, raising her eyebrows.

"Hm," Stiles hummed noncommittally, "I don't-"

She shoved his chest and shook her head, "Well it's all you're getting, so tough luck." She told him with a small laugh, stepping away to head toward the girl's locker room with Lydia and Allison.

Stiles threw his arm around Scott's shoulders as Amber and Allison walked to the other side of the gymnasium with Lydia to get changed before classes.

"Hate to see 'em leave but love to watch 'em go, am I right, Scott?" Stiles asked, shaking his friend's shoulder in his grip good-naturedly.

"Yeah," Scott shook his head with a reluctant laugh, "Sure thing, dude."

"Hey, what's with you?" Stiles questioned as they made their own way to the locker rooms, "You should be happy. I mean, just think, in ten short hours, we'll be on a double date with, like, the girls of our dreams-"

"Yeah, about that.." Scott started as they pushed open the door and stepped into the all encompassing stench of the boy's locker room, his voice cutting out at the sound of a sharp whistle.

"Listen up!" Coach Finstock's voice suddenly boomed as the room filled with students, "Anybody sees Isaac Lahey, you immediately tell the principal, get a teacher, or you call me." He looked at the cluster of boys in front of him and frowned when his eyes caught on a boy at the back of the group, "Except for you, Greenberg. Don't call me for anything. I'm not kidding. You shouldn't even have my number."

"Isaac.." Scott said as they moved toward their lockers.

"It's Derek's problem now." Stiles told him with a shrug.

They turned the corner at the back of the room into their row of lockers and Scott sighed, "Like I was saying.. I just, I dunno if tonight's such a good idea, man."

Stiles stared at his friend incredulously, eye nearly twitching in disbelief as he moved to pull his shirt over his head, "What do you mean 'tonight's not a good idea'?"

Scott pulled his locker open with a frown, "I don't know.. That thing me and Allison saw on Wednesday night, Isaac missing, Allison's grandfather, all this stuff happening with Derek.. I just- It doesn't feel right."

Stiles pulled on a clean shirt and looked at his best friend in disbelief, slamming Scott's locker closed to look at his face directly.

"No." Stiles told him vehemently, "You're not backing out. You wanna know why?" He asked, not waiting for an answer before he barreled on, "Because you and Allison are obviously having quite a good time together, and you know who else wants to have a good time?" He questioned, continuing without taking a breath, "Stiles! Stiles wants to have a good time! Many, many times. Several times.. In a row.. In several different positions- I-" His jaw clenched at Scott's unfocused gaze, "Are you even paying attention?"

Scott lifted his arm between them and they both looked down at the noticeable tremble in his shaking hands.

"What is that?" Stiles questioned in exasperation, gesturing to his friend's outstretched hand. Scott suddenly jumped into action and took off back toward the gym, "Wh- Scott! Wait up!"

Stiles ran after him, joining a small cluster of girls who were worriedly tumbling out of the locker room down the hall and rushing in the same direction. Amber was at the front of the group and Stiles nudged her shoulder as he caught up to run beside her.

"What's going on?" He asked as they rounded the corner.

"I think Erica went by herself to finish climbing the wall-" Her frantic words cut off when she froze with wide eyes.

They had stepped into the gym just as the blonde girl fell back through the air from her spot halfway up the climbing wall, with no harness to slow her descent. Amber's fingers gripped Stiles' arm tight in panic but Scott managed to run underneath Erica just in time to catch her in his arms.

The group of girls and Stiles all rushed forward again, he and Amber kneeling down in a quick motion. Erica's body was twitching and writhing as she seized and Scott released her down onto the floor gently, looking up at his friends with wide unsure eyes.

"Put her on her side!" Allison told Scott quickly.

Scott did as he was told and Amber reached out to gently brush some of Erica's wild hair back from her face.

"How did you know?" Amber asked Scott quietly, "I- I noticed she wasn't in the locker room anymore but you-"

"I just felt it." Scott explained, confused by the situation himself, his hand clenched in Erica's tight grip against her chest.

Amber sat back on her heels and exhaled a shaky sigh, her arm pressing into Stiles as she settled back.

It was only then that Stiles took in her appearance. She had pulled her hair from the loose ponytail she'd been wearing during class, her light ashy hair falling softly over her shoulders. Clearly having been in the process of getting changed when she noticed Erica's absence, she was now wearing only her tiny sports bra over her gym shorts. He found himself swallowing thickly as his eyes were pulled to the roundness of her breasts in the tight fabric.

"Can somebody go get Coach?" She called out to the students who were still standing, huddled behind the scene, "She's gonna need to go to the hospital."

Stiles' eyes snapped back up to her face just as she turned to look at him and he blinked at her silently for a few seconds, unsure if she'd caught him staring. He relaxed after a moment passed and her lips only proceeded to pull up to give him a small smile.

He dropped his arm around her shoulders and curled it around her neck, pulling her against him to press his lips to her temple softly. Something in his stomach flipped when she leaned into his embrace and settled a hand on his thigh over his track pants.

Eight o'clock couldn't come fast enough.

Amber made her way down the hallway between morning classes, her shoulder bumping against Lydia's as they discussed their plans for Saturday night. Amber's mouth was just opening to say something when she was suddenly pushed half a step to the side as Jackson shoved his way between the two girls.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He demanded angrily, wrapping a hand around Lydia's arm in a tight grip as he pulled her around the corner and crowded her back against the wall.

"What?" Lydia questioned in a gasp.

Amber caught up with them in only a few steps and pried Jackson's hand away with her fingers, jaw clenching angrily as she shoved his arm away from Lydia.

"Show it to me." Jackson demanded vaguely, reaching out again, this time toward the hem of Lydia's dress, "Show it to me. Come on-"

"Jackson, back the hell off." Amber snapped, shoving him back again.

"Are you out of your mind?" Lydia asked the boy, eyes wide.

"Nothing happened to you," Jackson stated, looking the redhead up and down slowly, "It's like- It's like you- You're immune."

Amber's eyes widened a fraction as she finally realized what the boy was talking about.

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about." Lydia told him in a whisper.

He stepped forward to push Lydia back against the wall again and Amber jabbed him with her elbow to shove him away from her friend with a deadly glare.

"It's you," He told Lydia, doing an excellent job of ignoring Amber's presence entirely, "Whatever it is.. Blood, saliva.. Whatever soul killing substance is running through your veins. You did this to me." He hissed angrily.

Amber grabbed his arm in a tight grip and yanked him several steps away, "Jackson I swear to god if you touch her again-"

"You ruined it for me." He snapped at the redhead over Amber's shoulder as he was pushed backwards, "You ruin everything!"

Amber gave him one final, hard shove and he took a few steps in reverse, his chest heaving with angry breaths. He finally spun around and began to walk away but Amber refused to take her eyes off of him as she watched to make sure he wouldn't come back.

He turned around after a second at the sound of Lydia sobbing softly from behind them and Amber's glare only intensified. His jaw clenched with a regretful expression, but he turned away and continued to leave with a shake of his head.

Amber spun back around and was at Lydia's side again in a second, her fingers taking Lydia's hand in a soft grip. She pulled her friend down the hallway and into the girls bathroom just as the redhead began to cry in earnest.

"Hey, you're okay." Amber said softly, tucking a strand of strawberry blonde hair behind Lydia's ear.

"I need- I need a minute." Lydia choked out, dashing into one of the stalls and slamming the metal door shut behind her before sniffling loudly in the quiet room.

"I- I'll wait outside." Amber decided softly, frowning at the closed stall door one last time before she turned and stepped out into the hallway to lean against the wall just outside of the restroom.

She stood with her back pressed against the wall for several minutes before she heard Lydia speaking softly from inside the bathroom. Turning back toward the door, Amber was about to peek inside when the door swung open and Lydia stepped out into the hallway with a determined look on her face.

"Hey, Lyds-" Amber started, pausing when Lydia's gaze caught on the empty staircase behind the brunette.

"Where is he going?" Lydia asked before taking off, pushing past her friend to begin climbing the stairs.

"What?" Amber called out to her friend's retreating back in confusion, "Where's who going? Lydia-"

She mimicked Lydia's quick steps and followed behind her as they went upstairs and rounded the hallway back toward the north end of the school, calling out to her friend with no response as she trailed behind.

Lydia finally paused as they came to a smaller staircase in the north hall, her gaze focussed on the large display case full of sports awards and photographs from over the years. Amber watched Lydia's jaw clench before she bounced on her toes and approached the trophy case to get a closer look.

"What's going on?" Amber asked quietly, unsurprised when she still didn't receive a response.

She looked between her friend and the display case in confusion, watching Lydia's eyes focus on a trophy inside with a terrified expression. Amber's eyes followed the redhead's gaze and they caught on an old basketball trophy, the student's name engraved on the plaque stumping her to no end.

Peter Hale.

Amber spotted the back of Stiles' head just as she stepped into the cafeteria at lunchtime and she grinned excitedly, bounding up behind him to wrap her arms around his chest from behind awkwardly over his backpack, pressing her nose into his cheek.

He flinched in surprise and she laughed, "Hello."

"You scared the crap outta me." He scolded, turning his head at an awkward angle to look back at her.

She released him from her arms and took hold of his hand, beginning to pull him over toward the table where Scott was already sitting with his lunch tray. Stiles resisted when she tugged on him and Amber looked back at him in confusion.

"I, uh- I just gotta talk to someone about, a uh, a thing-" He winced at his own vague explanation and took a step to the side, "I'll be right there."

"Oh," She realized, her eyes drifting over to the table a few feet away where a dark skinned boy was sitting by himself and poking at his subpar school lunch, "You're gonna get the keys from Boyd? I'll come with you-"

"Wh- N-No," Stiles stammered before groaning with wide eyes, "It was supposed to be a surprise. Did Scott tell you?" He asked in disbelief.

She frowned guiltily, "Was it? I kinda pulled it out of him. I'm sorry."

Stiles shook his head and reluctantly pulled her toward the table where Vernon Boyd was sitting and having lunch. Amber split off from Stiles and sat down beside Boyd with a smile.

"Hi, Boyd." She greeted.

Stiles settled into the seat across from them, sitting sideways in the chair awkwardly as he tried to look nonchalant, "Boyd." He greeted with a nod. "You got the keys?" He questioned, peeking over at the other boy out of the corner of his eye.

Boyd thrust his hand across the table, keychain dangling from between his fingers. Stiles huffed out an excited breath and reached out to grab the proffered item, but Boyd's hand tightened around the keys with raised eyebrows. Stiles pulled at the keys again with a frown, making a small noise as he tried unsuccessfully to tug them out of the other boy's grip.

"This isn't a favor. This is a transaction." Boyd reminded firmly.

"Right, yeah!" Stiles said easily, letting go of the keychain, "Absolutely.."

Amber watched Stiles dig around in the pocket of his zip up sweatshirt and pull out a crinkled twenty dollar bill, slapping it down on the tabletop with a hopeful look.

"I said fifty." Boyd said plainly, eyes flicking up from the bill to Stiles with an unimpressed frown.

"Really?" Stiles asked with a barely perceptible wince, "I, uh- I remember twenty, I don't know. I have a really good verbal memory, and I remember twenty. I remember that distinctive 'twa' sound." He rambled, eyes finally flicking over to Amber, "Twa - nty."

She snorted and brought a hand up to her mouth to cover the laugh.

Boyd didn't look nearly as amused, "I said fifty. With the 'fu' sound. Hear the difference?"

Stiles made a face, "Ah-"

"If you can't-" Boyd continued quickly, "I can demonstrate some other words with the 'fu' sound."

"Uh, no, no, no-" Stiles ceded, lifting his hips from his seat to dig around in the pocket of his jeans, "I think I'm recalling it." He added another bill to stack on top of the twenty on the table, "Maybe I just got it confused with 'fo' - rty." He prompted.

Boyd took a chip from the bag on his tray and put it into his mouth slowly, holding Stiles' gaze with an indifferent expression as he crunched down on it and chewed.

Stiles' hopeful expression faded into a frown as he sulked, "C'mon, man. Have you seen the piece of crap Jeep I drive?"

"Have you seen the piece of crap bus I take?" Boyd countered without pause.

Amber shook her head, "Stiles. You love Roscoe, don't insult him when he can't hear you." She scolded, pulling out a twenty from the pocket of her jeans and adding it to the pile of bills as she turned to face Boyd in her seat, "Boyd. Thank you for loaning us your work keys. You're the best and we really appreciate it." She collected the sixty dollars and pressed the bills into his large hand with a smile.

Boyd smiled for the first time since the interaction began and held out the keys to her easily, dropping them into her hand as he pocketed the money.

"Wh- Can I get the extra ten dollars back?" Stiles asked the other boy as Amber stood from the table.

"No." Boyd told him easily, eating another chip with a satisfied grin.

Amber rounded the table and pulled Stiles up with her hand in his, "Thank you!" She called out to Boyd one final time as she dragged Stiles around to Scott's table.

She pulled him down into the chair beside her as they sat down across from Scott and she released Stiles' hand to pat him on the thigh consolingly while Scott looked between them.

"Did you get 'em?" He asked.

"Got 'em." Stiles confirmed, "And thank you. For completely ruining the surprise by telling Amber the entire plan." He finished with snark.

Scott frowned with a small shrug, "Sorry, man."

Amber hummed, "It's cute that you thought you both could keep a secret from me for a whole day," She leaned onto her elbows on the table and pressed her lips to Stiles' cheek in a quick peck, "Besides, I'm glad I know now, that way I can dress accordingly. Can you imagine if I'd showed up in a skirt or something?" She laughed, reaching forward to grab a french fry off of Scott's plate and plopping it into her mouth.

"Yeah. That would've been terrible.." Stiles muttered, glaring aggressively across the table at Scott. He sighed after a moment and turned his attention on Amber again, "So, I'll pick you up after Scott gets out of work and we'll meet Allison at the rink. Cool?"

"Cool." She agreed, reaching across the table to grab another french fry.

There was a quiet stirring across the lunchroom and the three turned follow the gazes of their classmates where everyone seemed to be watching the doorway as Erica Reyes stepped into the cafeteria, looking decidedly unlike herself.

Where Erica normally wore jeans and a sweatshirt, always baggy and comfortable so that she could hide herself away behind her clothes and untamed blonde hair. Now, she walked through the room confidently in a small leather skirt and a tight, low-cut tank top, towering several inches taller than her normal height with the high heels she had on her feet.

The blonde strutted into the room with a small sultry smile on her red painted lips, pausing at a table at the front of the room and leaning over to snag the untouched apple from an unsuspecting Freshman's tray. She bit into the fruit sensually, wiping the juice from her lips with another flirty grin before standing back upright.

"What." Lydia said suddenly from beside Scott and Stiles, "In the holy hell. Is that."

"It- It's Erica." Amber mumbled through the french fry still dangling from her mouth, eyes wide as she remained focussed on the beautiful blonde across the lunchroom.

Erica chewed the bite of fruit in her mouth with pursed lips before fiddling with the apple in her hands and turning to leave, slowly strutting back out of the cafeteria with a determined sway of her hips.

Scott and Stiles pushed out of their seats as she turned the corner out of sight and Amber scrambled to follow after them. They rushed down the hallway and pushed through the front doors of the school building just as Erica made it to the curb and pulled open the passenger door of a black Camaro.

The blonde looked up at them with a grin as she slid into the car. She and Derek both peered out the window to shoot them matching smiles before the car took off out of the parking lot, tires squealing in their wake.

"May- Maybe it's a coincidence," Amber tried weakly, "Just because she's suddenly insanely hot and knows Derek doesn't necessarily mean-" Her words cut off as she shrunk back under Scott's glare, "Yeah. Yeah, I heard how ridiculous it sounded even while it was coming out of my mouth."

She watched with a sigh as the Camaro pulled out onto the road with another squeal of tires and sped off.

As the lights flicked on to slowly illuminate the ice rink around them, Amber bounced up onto her toes excitedly and bit down on her lip, gripping onto Stiles' hand tight. He turned his head and took in her eager expression with a satisfied smile, tightening his hand around hers momentarily before he dragged her over to look for skates in their sizes.

He released her hand behind the counter as he pulled two pairs from the shelf. He guided her over to the bench just outside of the ice and gestured for her to sit before handing over her ice skates.

When he sat down beside her, Amber knocked her forehead against his softly, her nose brushing against his teasingly for a second before she turned her head and began pulling off her sneakers.

"Wh-" He protested quietly under his breath.

She laughed quietly and bumped their shoulders together as she began pulling on and lacing up her skates. She was quickly to get them secured and once she was finished she looked over to find Stiles still pulling his own onto his socked feet.

She blew out a warm puff of breath into the cool air around them and shivered lightly beneath her long sleeved shirt.

"It's colder in here than I thought it would be." She admitted quietly, watching the way Stiles' long fingers moved as he finished tying his laces.

No sooner had she spoken when he reached down to his backpack, digging around through the contents for a moment before reemerging with a bright, neon orange athletic shirt.

"Here." He offered with a painfully sweet smile, holding the shirt out in offering.

"Stiles, that's really sweet, but.." Her eyes flicked down to the hideous shirt again, "I am not wearing that."

"Wh- But-" He frowned, his eyes flicking from the shirt she was already wearing to the one in his hand, "Blue and orange. It's the colors of the Mets."

Her heart sank at the sound of his dejected voice and she sighed, "That's all you have?"

He pursed his lips and peered into his backpack again, shuffling a few textbooks around, "Oh, oh, wait-" He pulled another wrinkled bundle of fabric from the bottom of the bag and Amber ripped it from his hands in a flash.

She shrugged the dirty flannel on over her own shirt and Stiles immediately reached out and attempted to smooth out some of the creases before he seemed to give up on the impossible task. Looking up at him with a smile, she found his gaze already on her and she couldn't help but flush under his attention with a quiet huff.

Stiles lifted his hand from where he had been pinching the fabric of the flannel in an aborted motion a couple of times before settling his palm over her cheek and leaning in slowly. She sat still as he drew closer and only when his lips ghosted against hers did she finally push forward into his space, joining their mouths together more firmly with a contented sigh.

"Skating!" Scott's voice called out suddenly, jolting the two apart, "This date is for skating! You guys can makeout at home later."

Amber scrunched her nose at her friend in irritation as he passed by before she stood up and reached a hand back toward Stiles blindly, "We will!" She called out petulantly at Scott's retreating back, "A lot!"

Scott and Allison's laughter was loud as they moved to one of the openings to the rink, preparing to go out onto the ice.

"A lot, huh?" Stiles questioned, mouth startlingly close to Amber's ear.

She flinched at the feeling of his warm breath and looked back at him. Her eyes traced slowly over the freckles over his cheeks before determinedly focussing on the warm brown pools of his eyes.

"That was the plan," She revealed with a grin, pulling him toward the ice with wobbly steps as she balanced on the blades of her skates, "Why, do you have any objections?" She asked over her shoulder.

"Nope. No objections. Not a one." He said quickly as he trailed behind her.

She turned to face him and shuffled back, until she was standing with the blades of her skates on the ice while Stiles stood a step beyond the edge of the rink.

"Good." She said quietly, leaning forward until their lips were nearly touching. Her mouth hovered just out of his reach and when he tilted his head forward to catch her lips, she let her skates carry her back a few inches to glide along the ice, "C'mon, Stiles!" She laughed gleefully, "This date is for skating, after all-"

He protested loudly as the distance between them increased and he moved to follow her immediately, stepping onto the ice and kicking off with one foot to rush in her direction. Her eyes widened when she saw him speeding toward her and she squealed quietly just as his arms wrapped around her to pull her into his chest while they continued backwards.

"You're a menace." He scolded as they slowed to a stop.

She giggled and remained in the warmth of his arms for a minute before slipping out of his grip and skating a few feet away with a grin.

"Wait, wait, Amber-" He reached toward her as she slid away.

"Scott!" Allison's voice suddenly yelled in panic.

Amber turned at the sound of the other girl's alarm and only managed to catch a blur of Scott's green shirt before he was colliding with her painfully. They seemed to spin for a long second before falling and the two managed to land with Amber sprawled across Scott's stomach, both of them hitting the ice with a yell of surprise.

"Sorry," Scott apologized weakly, "I don't think I'm very good at this."

Amber pushed up onto her elbows on the ice and looked back at him over her shoulder, "I caught on to that fact, believe it or not."

"Scott!" Allison's voice came again, closer this time.

"I'm okay." Scott promised breathlessly, still laying down flat on his back.

There were hands suddenly at Amber's waist as she tried to push up off of her friend and she glanced back as Stiles hooked his fingers into the belt loops on her jeans to pull her to her feet.

"You looked like you hit your head that time." Allison worried as she helped Scott up.

"What's that, Coach?" Scott asked in feigned confusion.

Amber laughed, allowing herself to be pulled away on her skates by Stiles' hand in hers. He dragged her to the other side of the rink and as they slowed, he released her hand. He turned her to face him head on and carefully guided her to skate backwards until her back hit the wall with a soft thump.

"Hi." She breathed, heart fluttering at the warmth of his chest against hers as he pressed her back into the wall.

"You okay?" He questioned, hand coming up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear as his other tightened incrementally around her hip.

"I'm fine," She couldn't help but whisper in their close proximity, "My hands are really cold now though- From touching the ice."

Stiles leaned back a only few inches but she found herself frowning at the increased space between their bodies as he reached down to take her hands into his. He enveloped her smaller hands in his palms and blew a warm breath into his cupped hands. He pulled in another deep breath before exhaling warm air over their hands once again, eyes flicking back and forth between hers slowly as he breathed heat into her chilled fingers.

"Better?" He asked, still holding her hands between their chests.

She nodded silently, not trusting her voice as her eyes focussed on the soft plushness of his lips. She leaned her weight more heavily against the wall behind her, her head thumping back against the plexiglass with a quiet thud as she looked up at him.

She swallowed, "How, um. How long do you reckon we skate?" She questioned, aiming for casual, "Like.. An hour? Longer?"

He studied her face slowly for a moment before responding, "Yeah, I- Probably like an hour or so. Why?"

"Just," She paused anxiously, "Thinking about the plan for, y'know, after."

"The pla-" He blinked suddenly and looked at her with scrutiny, "The plan we were just talking about? The uh.. The one you just mentioned to Scott?"

She nodded slowly, her heart already picking up in her chest excitedly in anticipation. She peeked around his shoulder and watched Scott nearly fall on his face again as Allison rushed to keep him upright.

Amber leaned her head back against the wall again and looked up at the boy in front of her. She licked her lips in contemplation and Stiles' eyes seemed to track the movement.

"I think Scott and Allison are a little preoccupied with keeping Scott's bones unbroken," She told him slowly, "I, um. I saw a photobooth on our way in if you wanted to maybe go and take a couple pictures."

"Yeah, we can do that." He agreed easily, confused at her apparent nerves.

"I wouldn't mind a couple photo strips of us, y'know, kissing." She continued.

"We can definitely do that." He amended, already grabbing her hand and pulling her along behind him in the direction of where they'd stepped out onto the ice in the first place.

Stiles stumbled the moment he stepped off of the ice and Amber laughed as he continued to drag her toward the picture booth. When they got to the stall, he pulled the curtain to the side and urged her to climb inside first. She slid across the tiny bench seat and looked at him excitedly as he sat down beside her.

"Okay," She grinned, leaning forward and squinting at the buttons surrounding the large camera lens at the front of the space, "So, how do we-"

Two fingers pressed into her jaw, turning her head so that Stiles could cover her mouth with his as his other hand reached around to slam down over the largest button blindly.

He opened his mouth on only the second soft press of their lips and grazed his tongue over her lips softly as the first flash went off behind their closed eyes. Her brain finally caught up and she brought a hand to grip at his neck, his hand falling away from her face to drag her closer by her waist.

The second flash went off.

He tightened his grip around her lower back, hand flattening to spread out over the flannel she was wearing, his fingers pressing into the curve of her spine. She groaned softly against his tongue, her leg instinctively coming up to drape over his knee in the cramped space as she tried to get closer.

There was another click of a flash and it was then that she remembered there were pictures being taken at all. She pulled back just enough that she could gaze at Stiles, her vision slightly blurred from their close proximity. His eyes were still closed, long eyelashes downcast over his cheekbones. He brushed his nose against hers softly just as the final flash lit up the booth.

She leaned back another few inches and he finally cracked his eyes open to look at her in confusion.

"The first set of pictures is over." She told him, licking her lips and feeling a flutter in her stomach when she tasted the remnants of his mouth on her own.

He turned his head toward the camera as if he'd also forgotten it was there, "I guess we should do another one then."

He was reaching toward the button again but she pulled his hand back, "Wait, wait."

"What's wrong?"

"I just, I wanna take a few cute ones first. Before we get too.. Distracted." She explained.

He smiled and nodded, pressing his hand down on the button before wrapping an arm over her shoulder and pulling her into his chest. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple and she bit down on her lower lip against a smile as the flash went off.

She reached for his hand where it was draped around her shoulder to tangle his fingers around the backs of hers, using her new grip to curl his arm tighter around her neck until she could reach to bite down softly on his wrist. The camera flashed just as Stiles looked down at her in mock outrage.

He retaliated quickly, untangling their hands so that he could poke his fingers into her waist beneath her flannel. Her whole body jolted as he started to tickle her sides and her butt came up off of the bench as she squirmed to get away, head thrown back against his shoulder as she laughed loudly.

As soon as the flash went off, he stopped tickling her and chuckled as she breathed heavily in recovery. She tilted her head against his shoulder and peered up at him in adoration. Stiles moved to look down at her to see what she was planning for the next photo to but she leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw and stopped the movement of his head. His smile was soft and pleased smile and his cheek dimpled adorably as the flash lit up the booth again.

He finally tipped his head to look at her and their noses brushed softly. It felt eerily reminiscent of their first — apparently second — kiss the night they'd gotten drunk on Jack Daniels in the woods. Their lips brushed softly but this time instead of panicking, she turned and slotted their lips together easily. She reached up to fist her hand in the front of his sweatshirt and parted her lips against his just enough that she could taste his next exhale as the fifth flash went off.

"One more?" He asked against her mouth, his words slipping into her open mouth intoxicatingly.

"Uh huh." She told him quietly, pulling his lips back down against hers.

She didn't watch, but she heard the quiet slaps of his hand fumbling around for the button before it clicked in indication that he'd managed to find it. His arm wrapped around her waist quickly, his other hand pressing into the wall of the booth behind her as he crowded her back and leaned into her space. When his tongue brushed her lip questioningly, she barely had to think before she was tilting her head and opening her mouth in acceptance.

The first flash went off and the click of it seemed to spur Stiles on, his arm tightening around her back for only a second before he reached down to tug her thigh back over his again, the way it had been in the first set of pictures. She let her knee curve around his lap, her calf draped between his legs as their heads tilted in opposite directions, tongues meeting again and again hungrily.

At the second flash, she wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled herself that much closer, nearly in his lap as she straddled just one of his thighs while Stiles slid to the edge of the seat to angle his body toward her in the cramped space. She pulled back just enough that she pulled in his next exhale through her lips. She looked down at his mouth with hooded eyes, fingertips reaching between them to brush over his lips in a light touch just as the camera flashed again.

He retook her mouth with his as soon as the picture snapped and she parted her lips for his tongue immediately, groaning quietly into his mouth. His hand at her waist dipped to grab a handful of her ass through her jeans and she moaned more openly, head falling back from the kiss as her arm tightened around his neck.

The camera flashed over her blissful expression and her mouth was back on his in a frantic rush. Their tongues met between kisses again and she tightened her leg over his thigh as she pulled him closer. Her knee brushed against the growing bulge beneath his jeans as she pulled herself against him and this time it was Stiles whose head dropped back from the kiss. His jaw went slack when her leg pressed firmly against him and it was at that glorious moment that the final flash lit up the booth.

"Sorry." She apologized in a whisper as soon as she realized what she'd done. She loosened her leg from around him and sat beside him again.

He took a deep breath, his hand finally dropping down from the wall behind her head. His fingers combed through her long hair in silent forgiveness and he thunked the side of his head against the back of the booth as he looked over at her.

"Do you wanna go back out and skate?" He asked after a minute looking at her softly and regaining his breath.

"Yeah." She agreed, "Are you.. Good? To go back out?" She asked cautiously, eyes flicking down to his lap in question.

He huffed out a laugh, "I'm about as good as I'm gonna get with you sitting next to me, if I'm being honest. If anything, it'll be easier when we're back out on the ice and it's cold and you're mouth isn't two inches away."

"Who said my mouth won't be two inches away on the ice?" She asked teasingly, leaning closer to brush her lips over his.

"Alright, let's go-" Stiles said, the warmth of his body very suddenly no longer against her.

He stood from the photobooth, extending a hand to help her out that she accepted begrudgingly. Once they stepped out of the stall, Amber's eyes caught on the tiny cubby in the side and the three photo strips that laid inside.

"Oh!" She exclaimed excitedly, reaching for the pictures and pulling them up in front of her face as she examined them closely.

Stiles pressed his chest to her back and peered over her shoulder as she began to flip through the strips.

The first was relatively innocent pictures of them kissing, only able to see the hint of tongues in one or two of them if you looked close enough.

The second made her stomach flutter. They were sickeningly adorable. Snapshots of them pressed close together happily, flirting, laughing — the final picture catching their mouths hovering just a breath away from a kiss.

The third strip was what gave her pause. The first two photos were the two of them kissing hungrily as they pulled one another closer. The third, a small break from the heaviness as it captured Amber's fingertips brushing softly over the softness of Stiles' lips. But the final two pictures were practically softcore porn. Her eyes barely skimmed over photo number four, the way her head had been thrown back in arousal. Instead, her attention was immediately drawn to the final picture. Stiles' head lolled against the wall, lips parted in a silent moan, cheeks visibly flushed, eyes closed — All with his arm still propped up behind Amber's head while she looked at him in awe from only a breath away.

As they studied the third and final set of pictures, Stiles made a small sound into her ear from behind her.

"Dibs!" She said quickly, pressing the third strip to her chest protectively.

"No, no, no," He disagreed instantly, "No way, you can't just call dibs on the hottest one."

"Well, it's too late, because I already did." She grinned in satisfaction.

"And what if I wanted that one?" He asked incredulously.

"If you wanted the hottest one, I guess you should've called dibs or something." She told him easily.

He was on her in a second, arms wrapping around her from behind as he quickly pulled the photostrip in question from her hands and held it above his head where she couldn't reach it.

"Hey, no!" She whined as she spun around to face him, wrapping an arm around his neck and reaching up toward his extended hand in vain, "You can't use your height against me! I called dibs!"

"I'm sorry but I need these pictures for very important personal reasons." Stiles said, trying not to laugh as she attempted to pull herself higher up to reach his hand.

"No way. You don't get to keep them just because you want them as jerk-off material. Maybe I want to jerk off to them, too-" She argued, "Did you ever think of that?"

"That's not what I- Well, okay, yeah- But-" He tried to deny before realizing it was a moot point.

Very suddenly, she stopped trying to get the pictures back and wrapped both of her arms around his neck instead. She remained chest to chest with him, her breasts pressing against him through the thin fabric of his tshirt as she narrowed her eyes.

He made a quiet noise of either arousal or confusion and she moved to drag her nose along the ridge of his jaw, pressing her lips lightly to his skin as she moved further up toward his ear.

"Stiles, please?" She asked softly, lips brushing against the shell of his ear before she dropped to press a couple of soft kisses to the side of his neck.

"Wh- That's not fair. You can't do that." He protested weakly, elbow dropping just slightly where he was holding the photostrip above them.

Her lips dragged back along his jaw, pressing a kiss to his chin and the corner of his mouth before hovering above his lips.

"Can't do what?" She questioned slowly, blinking at him innocently as she licked her lips, her tongue managing to brush lightly over Stiles' own lips as she did so.

He made another pained noise, arm lowering distractedly again, "Can't use sex against me when we haven't done sex-like things yet."

"You're right," She agreed easily, "What if instead, you just let me have the pictures?"

"That doesn't really feel like you're agreeing with me," He laughed against her mouth, "But what if I hold onto them so I can scan them onto my laptop, and then I let you have them?"

She leaned back with a frown, "Scan them? Why didn't you just say that before?" She loosened her arms around his neck and looked at him with less blur obstructing his features.

"If I'd said that before, you wouldn't be clinging on to me quite so desperately." He grinned, letting his arm fall and stuffing the pictures into the back pocket of his jeans.

"Now who's the menace?" She glared at him playfully.

"Hey!" Scott's voice sounded out suddenly from behind her, "Are you guys done in the photobooth? Allison and I want to take some pictures."

Amber turned her head toward where Scott and Allison were making their way over stockingfoot, skates already pulled off.

"All yours, buddy." Stiles assured him, hand dropping onto Amber's hip.

"Sweet!" Scott said excitedly, pulling the curtain open and letting Allison slide in first, "Oh, gross!"

"What?" Amber, Allison, and Stiles all questioned.

"Guys, seriously? It reeks in here." Scott said with a wince.

"I don't smell anything." Allison said in confusion.

"I can't let your wolfy-nose control my whole life, Scott." Amber laughed, "Sorry."

"Ugh," Scott grimaced, "I knew I'd regret you two getting together at some point, I just didn't realize it would be so soon."

"Sorry, man." Stiles shrugged, "You're probably gonna have to get used to it."

Scott frowned and pulled the curtain closed, cutting himself and Allison off from his best friends.

"I seriously don't smell anything," Allison repeated, "Is it that bad?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Scott said quietly.

Amber laughed and released Stiles completely before moving back over toward the ice rink, "You still wanna skate for a few minutes?" She asked, hesitating at the edge.

Stiles grabbed her hand and pulled her back onto the ice where they skated a slow lap around the rink with their fingers intertwined. She slowed after a while and skated around him in a circle, stopping at his back. She reached her hands to his waist from behind and locked her fingers into the belt loops at his hips.

"Pull me," She prompted, pressing her face into the soft hood of his sweatshirt.

He chuckled but obeyed her request, skating forward slowly and dragging her along as she stood behind him, pressed to his back. They looped around for a few minutes before she loosened her grip and let herself fall back as Stiles continued forward.

When he noticed the absence of her warmth behind him, he turned on his skates and made his way back over, coming to a stop in front of her. He reached out to fix the collar of her borrowed flannel, pulling it up closer to the cool skin of her neck, and her stomach fluttered at the soft thoughtful gesture.

She fiddled with the long sleeves where they hung down over her palms for a moment before reaching out to stick her hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and skating backwards at a slow speed, pulling him along with her.

He looked at her curiously but didn't question as she continued backward, slowing to a crawl but still moving blindly until her back thumped softly against the plexiglass wall at the edge of the rink.

"What's up?" He asked softly, letting his skates cage her in with his feet on either side of hers.

"Was just thinking." She told him vaguely, a small smile pulling at her lips.

"Oh no," He joked, raising his eyebrows, "That doesn't sound good. What were you thinking about?"

She shrugged casually, "You."

He smiled, "Oh, well that's okay then. What about me?"

"Mm," She hummed noncommittally, "Mostly your mouth."

Stiles tried not to show the slight surprise on his face, "My mouth, huh?" He asked smugly.

"Mhm," She nodded, "A real smart mouth. Very annoying. Always talking absolute shit-"

"Hey!" He said in offense.

"-Instead of kissing me." She finished with a sly smile.

He faltered for a moment. His mouth dropped open as if he had a retort ready before he seemed to think better of it and instead cupped her cheek to bring their lips together.

"Hey, uh, we're gonna head out." Scott's voice called out from the edge of the rink, standing hand in hand with Allison with an infuriatingly smug look on his face.

Amber thumped her head back against the wall for a brief second before grabbing Stiles' hand and skating back over toward their friends.

"We, uh. We're probably gonna head out too." Amber revealed, stepping off of the ice and wobbling slightly on her skates.

Scott nodded, pinching his lips together in a tight, amused line, "Uh huh. I bet you are."

"Yup." She nodded with a laugh, "We are. I just said that." She shoved past her best friend with a hand on his chest as she continued to pull Stiles behind her, "Don't be so smug. It's not like we don't all know exactly what you and Allison are leaving to go do in the privacy of her car."

Allison blushed and Scott's smile shifted into something more soft, "Yeah, okay." He settled, pulling on Allison's hand gently, "See you guys later."

"Later." Stiles and Amber called back.

Amber pulled off her skates and tugged her sneakers back on quickly before looking up at Stiles who appeared to have already done the same.

"So, uh.. Are we- We going to my place?" Stiles asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"My brother's home for the night so.." She said slowly.

"Yeah, definitely my place."

"Yeah." She nodded.

"What the hell are we waiting for then?" He asked, grabbing both sets of skates in one arm and snatching her hand with the other, pulling her back toward the front of the building.

She laughed at his eagerness and just managed to grab his backpack from the floor, fighting to keep up with his long strides as they locked up the rink and just about ran to the vehicle.

When they got to the Stilinski house, Stiles' father's cruiser was regrettably already parked in the driveway and Stiles audibly groaned.

"He's worked late every night for the last two weeks but on the night of our first date, he's home by nine? Seriously?" He lamented, slamming the driver's side door of the Jeep shut.

Amber laughed, closing her own door and pulling her duffle bag onto her shoulder before she rounded the Jeep to meet him at the front hood.

"Oh, it'll be fine." She told him, leaning up onto her toes to press a quick kiss to his lips before turning to head inside. When they stepped through the front door, Amber slipped off her sneakers into the small pile of shoes underneath the coat rack. "Hi, Mr. Stilinski." She greeted when she spotted the man watching television on the couch in the living room.

"Hey," He greeted back, "Have you kids seen this movie? It's got the guy from Star-something and Denzel Washington."

"I can't say I have." Stiles told him, peering at the screen as they stepped further into the house.

The Sheriff picked up the remote beside him and squinted at the buttons before he paused the action on the screen, "There's this train and- Well I don't want to give it away, but it's good. I can start it over if you two want to-"

"Oh, uh. Sorry, pops." Stiles said awkwardly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck, "We.. Were already gonna watch something else."

"Oh," His dad said quickly, throwing the blanket beside him over the back of the couch, "Do you guys want to watch it down here on the tv? I can finish this tomorr-"

"Actually," Amber interrupted softly this time, "I have the movie downloaded on my computer, so." She patted her hand against her laptopless duffle bag, "We'll have to watch it on there anyway. You can finish your movie on the tv."

Stiles dropped his hand heavily onto her shoulder in relief and nodded in enthusiastic agreement, "Yup! So, we'll be watching a movie up there, and you can watch your train movie down here." He repeated again unnecessarily, "Cool. Right, so. Let's go."

His hand wrapped around Amber's wrist in a firm grip and he pulled her around the corner and up the stairs before she could say another word. They stumbled through the door to his bedroom and Amber dropped her duffle bag down onto the ground beside the bookshelf.

She gnawed on her lower lip, suddenly anxious, and her fingers picked at the soft edges of the flannel sleeves hanging down over her hands as Stiles threw the door shut with just a touch too much enthusiasm considering how loud the resulting slam was.

"Oops." He said simply, eyes focussed intently on the girl in front of him as he swallowed nervously.

They both seemed to take a deep, grounding breath at the same time and when their exhales lined up in a loud huff of air in the quiet room, they laughed quietly.

"Why is this suddenly, like, nerve-wrackingly awkward?" She questioned.

"Do- would you rather put on an actual movie or something?" He asked immediately, "I can set up my laptop and-"

She stepped forward in a quick movement, "No, no, I still want to- Not watch a movie." She assured him, licking her lips with a nervous laugh, "I'm just not sure how to.. Start."

He smiled in relief and stepped closer, his hand sliding along the side of her neck softly. His brown eyes flicked back and forth between hers attentively as he leaned closer, giving her plenty of time to pull back if she'd wanted to. When their mouths met, it was like her nerves finally fell away and she threw herself into the kiss fervently.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and she drew herself up against him as they kissed. He continued to hold her neck gently, thumb skirting up to brush under her jaw through the blur of their mouths separating and meeting again tenderly.

Neither one of them even noticed that they'd been moving in slow steps until the backs of Stiles' legs bumped against the edge of the bed. He pulled back slightly from the kiss to look behind him before looking back up at her questioningly.

"Should we-?"

"Yeah." She nodded immediately, pushing gently at his chest until he complied.

He climbed back and sat with his legs out in front of him in the center of the bed and she paused to take him in for a moment before Stiles laughed and held his hand out in offering. She accepted and quickly crawled across the blankets to straddle his knees awkwardly, unsure how close she was meant to get or how quickly she was meant to do it.

Stiles didn't seem to notice her nerves and instead leaned forward in a smooth movement and brought their lips back together with his right hand firmly cupping the left side of her face. She moved to kneel further up around his legs until she settled over the tops of his thighs, gripping onto his shoulders as she tilted her head to meet his lips in another kiss.

She opened her mouth against his and his own lips parted quickly to slip his tongue through the opening to slide against hers. She groaned quietly into his mouth at the taste of him and pushed at his shoulders to lay him back against the mattress.

As he settled onto his back, he shuffled slightly against the bed to get into a comfortable position and she was jostled until she was left straddling his waist. She pulled back from the kiss for just a moment, already feeling warmth pricking beneath her skin. He looked up at her curiously while she slipped out of the flannel she had on over her long sleeved shirt, tossing it over the side of the bed. He followed suit and leaned up to pull his zip-up off, rolling it into a ball and throwing it behind her before quickly laying back down.

He brought a hand up to her face again and pulled her down to recapture her lips. His left hand went to her waist and as their tongues brushed hotly again, his forearm tightened around her lower back and pulled her down against him, the seam of her jeans pressing up against her clit to send a sharp pang ecstasy down her spine. She gasped lightly against his mouth and rocked her hips back down against his without any further encouragement.

They both released quiet, hungry noises into one another's mouths at the friction between them and she continued the slow roll of her hips through open-mouthed kisses. On a particularly rough brush of the seam of her jeans against her underwear, she tightened her fingers around the backs of his shoulders and sighed against his mouth. She ground her hips down again and again as she tried to replicate the motion.

An indiscernible amount of time passed, their mouths and tongues meeting, her hips rolling down against him. She felt herself growing increasingly hot from both arousal and exertion but didn't stop, couldn't stop, her groin grinding down almost unconsciously as they continued to trade passionate kisses.

Stiles dropped his left arm from her back to gripped supportively at her hip instead, fingertips digging in as he followed the movements of her body against him. His right thumb brushed over her cheek the next time her lips parted and he tilted his chin up to meet her mouth that much more firmly, hunger evident in his kiss.

The next time she ground down in a slow roll of her hips, he groaned into her mouth and the needy noise sent a sharp spark of arousal straight between her thighs. She kissed him again and rolled her hips down against his just a touch harder in an attempt to get the friction she was desperately craving beneath her own jeans. As she ground down, he moaned again, high in the back of his throat, and his body tensed beneath her, his hand left tightening on her hip as his mouth fell slack under hers.

She pulled back from the kiss, her lips hovering a breath away from his as her gaze raked over his face. His eyes were pinched shut and he huffed out a sharp breath from his open mouth while he tugged desperately at her waist again, pulling her down against him as his hips lifted from the mattress to press up into her.

He made another soft noise, his whole body jerking once more, and she could do little more than simply look down at him in awe. She was nearly sure if she looked down between them, she'd find a wet patch at the front of his jeans and she was thrilled. Amazed. She'd never been more proud of an accomplishment in her entire life.

She slid a hand from his shoulder to rest along his sharp jaw, her thumb rubbing softly over his flushed cheek. Stiles was so beautiful. He was handsome, sure. But he was also so unbelievably beautiful.

Her eyes mapped his face slowly. They traced over the light splotches of pink currently coloring his cheeks, the long length of his dark eye lashes, the plush cupid's bow of his upper lip, the perfect slope of his nose.

She silently allowed him to recover, watching him take in shaky breaths for a long minute before he spoke.

"Oh god." He finally groaned, dropping his right hand from her cheek and pushing his head as far back into the mattress beneath him as he could, like he could somehow sink into it and disappear, "No, no, no, no, I can't believe I just did that. Oh god-"

His sudden reaction surprised her, "Stiles. Hey, what's wrong?" She asked worriedly, hand still cupping his face gently.

"Wha- I just-" A whine crawled up his throat in embarrassment, eyes still pinched shut, "Fuck! I actually have you in my bed and I just- I came. In my pants."

"Why is that a bad thing?" She whispered cautiously, sliding her hand to the back of his neck and gently scraping her blunt fingernails into the buzzed hair at the base of his skull.

"Why is it-" Stiles stuttered, "Are you joking? This is so embarrassing- I- I'm actually gonna die. I'm gonna die of- Of embarrassment. I can't-"

Her anxious heartbeat settled in her chest, "Stiles," She interrupted, "Will you look at me? Please?"

He scrunched his face up tightly, like he didn't really want to obey her request, but he slowly did it anyway. His eyes fluttered open and she looked between the warm whiskey pools slowly.

"Stiles?" She whispered into the narrow sliver of space between their faces.

"Yeah?" He asked dejectedly.

She leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips before pulling back to hover over him again, "That." She started seriously, "Was. Insanely. Hot." She pressed her lips to his in quick kisses for emphasis between each word.

"Me? Jizzing in my pants?" He clarified in disbelief.

She nodded slowly, "Stiles. Literally nothing has ever turned me on more than what just happened." She admitted quietly.

He continued to look up at her in disbelief for a moment before he was reaching up to cup the back of her head and pulling her mouth down against his, their lips slotting back together seamlessly. She couldn't help the small unconscious grind of her hips against his and he pulled back from her with a deep breath.

"As much as I don't want to leave the position we're currently in. Like, ever-" He started, dropping to rest both of his hands back over her hips again, "I need just, like, thirty seconds tops-"

"What for?" She questioned.

"I really need to change my pants." He admitted with a wince.

She rolled off of him quickly, "Oh god, yeah. Of course you do. Sorry."

He sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, "Just- Close your eyes? Give me half a sec-"

She reached up to cover her eyes immediately, readjusting from sitting back on her knees to sit criss-cross on the mattress. She listened to the sounds of him shuffling around the room, likely removing his pants and digging around in the dresser to find something else to wear.

It was only a few more seconds before she was blindly tackled onto her back on the bed, landing with a squeak of surprise underneath Stiles' body. She removed her hands from her eyes and looked up in the newly darkened room to see him grinning down at her, his cheeks dimpling with his smile.

She laughed, "I wouldn't have minded a little bit of warning."

He grinned wider, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her lips, "Sor-"

"Stiles!" They both flinched in surprise as Sheriff Stilinski's voice called out from the other side of the closed bedroom door, "Amber! I'm heading to bed!"

"'Kay, dad-" Stiles called out wide eyed.

"Good Night-" Amber called out weakly.

The sound of his dad's footsteps retreating down the hall faded slowly before the Sheriff's bedroom door clicked shut and they both let out a breath.

Amber's gaze dropped to Stiles' attire and she shifted on the bed nervously. The same black tshirt he'd been wearing all day stretched across his shoulders, he'd removed his jeans and changed his boxers, but he hadn't bothered with any sort of pants to go over them.

His weight dropped against her a bit more and his fingers brushed a strand of hair back out of her face in the dark, "On a scale of one to ten, how much did that interruption just turn you off?" He asked with a dejected sigh.

"Um," She focused on the heavy warmth of his weight settled on top of her and she took a breath before responding, "Not much, to be honest. Maybe only two."

"Two?" He repeated, sounding relieved, "Great! Cool, okay-"

His eyes flicked slowly between hers before he leaned down to press their mouths together again. He rested a hand over her hip, the fabric of her shirt bunching up as his fingers dragged against the bare skin of her abdomen. Her stomach fluttered and she reached up to the back of his neck to pull him closer, spreading her legs and allowing him to settle in between them on his knees.

His left hand slipped a little bit further beneath her shirt to simply rest along her ribcage and the gentle caress of his fingers over her skin had excitement twisting in her gut as they kissed. The movement of his hand only paused for a few seconds before he cautiously inched it up a bit more, the tips of his fingers brushing the underwire of her bra.

"This okay?" He questioned against her lips.

She lifted her free hand up from the bed and brought her fingers to gently encircle his elbow before guiding him up another few inches in silent consent. His hand cupped her breast over the thin cotton of her bra, the feeling entirely new and thrilling for the both of them, and it had them both huffing out a quiet breath into the space between their mouths.

He tightened the fingers of his left hand experimentally, squeezing her breast in a soft grip, and her back arched on reflex as she pressed up into his hand. His mouth captured hers again and he readjusted his hand to brush his thumb over the soft skin at the top of her bra.

When he parted from the kiss to take a breath after a few minutes, he let his right hand trail in the opposite direction until his knuckles dragged over the waistband of her jeans. Her stomach tightened in nervous anticipation and she opened her eyes to find Stiles already looking down at her in the dark.

"Is it okay If I-?" He questioned softly, his fingertips skating distractingly against the sensitive skin of her bare stomach.

She took a nervous breath and nodded, "Yeah."

He pulled back a fraction to look down at her pants in the dark and his left hand retreated from her chest as his fingers moved pinch at the top of the denim. After a few seconds watching him fumble, Amber reached down, her fingers brushing over his as she undid the button herself.

Once her jeans were open, they both paused for a moment before Stiles was jumping back into action, tugging at the material and easing it down a few inches. She lifted her hips from the mattress and helped him slide her pants down until the jeans were tossed in a heap on the floor beside the bed.

Once they were gone, his attention seemed to get stuck on her underwear-clad lower half and she pushed up onto her elbows anxiously. She saw the moment that his eyes caught on the place where Kate had dragged a sharp blade into the flesh of her lower stomach. He reached his right hand out to rest on her left hip once again and his thumb traced lightly over the fresh pink scar across the side of her abdomen, his touch gentle and brimming with care.

She watched him stroke his thumb back and forth over her skin and she took a slow breath as she fought to work up some nerve. She exhaled in a slow puff through her lips and finally sat up just enough that she could tug her rucked up shirt over her head entirely. The action seemed to draw his attention upward and he stared at her in the dimly lit room for a long moment, eyes now stuck on her bra-clad chest.

"They match." He observed quietly, licking his lips as his eyes trailed over her nearly naked body, gaze flicking back and forth as if he couldn't decide which article of her underwear he wanted to look at more.

"I didn't want to be presumptuous and assume that something would happen after the date, but also.. I- I was really hoping something would happen after the date." She admitted, squirming and looking down at the matching dark green pieces nervously.

"It's- You look.." He blew out a breath and nodded to himself, the compliment left unfinished as his eyes continued to trace the curves of her breasts.

"The silent staring is kind of making me nervous." She admitted quietly, readjusting to lean back onto her elbows.

"Sorry." He said quickly, leaning over her to give her a quick apologetic kiss.

Before he could pull away again, she dropped onto her back and reached up to hold his face to hers, kissing him harder. He met her efforts halfway and settled between her legs again as their mouths moved against one another in an easy, already nearly perfected rhythm.

It was only another couple of minutes of trading deep kisses before his hand made the slow trail back down her body. The gentle caress as he dragged it lower had her cunt clenching with nervous excitement. His hand continued on past her belly and skimmed against the thin fabric of her underwear this time. When his fingertips hooked lightly beneath the waistband, her hips reflexively lifted up off of the mattress toward him, her mouth falling away from the kiss distractedly.

His lips brushed featherlight over hers due to their close proximity, not quite firm enough to be an actual kiss, as his hand dove just a little bit deeper into her underwear. She let out a quiet noise as his fingers moved lower and traced over her softly, applying only the lightest bit of pressure as he curiously touched her. She felt him let out a soft breath over her mouth in what she assumed to be nervousness just before his two of his fingers pressed a touch more firmly and slipped down between her open thighs.

When the action caused his fingers to spread her wet folds, she released another soft whine against his mouth. The noise seemed to spur him on and the next second, one of his long fingers was entering her slowly. She moaned just a little bit louder as his finger moved in and out in a slow, exploratory motion.

"Shh," He hushed softly against her lips, "You're gonna have to be quieter than that."

She nodded against the mattress, "Sorry." She said breathlessly against his lips, nose brushing against his as she tipped her chin to peck him on the mouth.

He began to thrust his finger in and out just a little bit deeper as his eyes flicked between hers, "This okay?"

"Mhm," She agreed quietly, lifting her hips again to better the angle of his hand, "Maybe, could you- Two?"

He didn't respond verbally but another finger quickly slipped in alongside the first. She gasped quietly at the thickness of his knuckles dragging against her walls and slid her hands around to the back of his neck. He thrust his fingers in and out in a slow motion and she brought his lips back down against hers desperately.

He continued fucking into her, the thickness and depth of his fingers both so much more — so much better — than her own.

Eventually, she pulled her mouth from his to take a deep breath. It felt amazing, incredible, but she couldn't help the pang in her gut that insisted she needed something more.

"C'you just-" She took a slow breath, "C'you curl your fingers, like, up and-"

Stiles followed her instruction before she could even finish the request, her words cutting off as he immediately managed to find the spot she'd been indicating. She moaned quietly at the feeling of the pads of his fingers pressing against the soft bundle of nerves inside of her and her hand slipped from his neck to his shoulder to grip onto him tightly.

"God." She whispered when he curled his fingers tighter, pressing against the spot inside of her just a bit more confidently, "Just- Just keep.. rubbing, like-" He began to rub the pads of his fingers against the spot in a slow come-hither motion and she arched her back as she took a gasping breath, "Yeah. Like that. You're- 's really good. You're excellent at.. Following directions. A Plus."

Stiles huffed a quiet laugh at her rambling and moved to kiss her again as he skillfully continued the motion of his fingers inside of her. The change in angle as he leaned forward to capture her mouth had his hand cupping her cunt tight beneath her underwear. As he continued to finger her, the addition of the pressure of his palm now dragging against her clit had her thighs beginning to shake as she edged toward an orgasm already.

"Oh, my god-" She murmured quietly against his lips, "I'm- Please don't change anything I'm-"

He did as he was instructed again, attentively and deliberately continuing to do exactly what he was doing. The friction of his palm rubbing against her clit while he relentlessly massaged the same bundle of nerves from inside of her had her face growing hot as a slow fog crept into her head.

She unintentionally let out another desperate noise and Stiles reached up to press the palm of his free hand lightly over her mouth as he shushed her again. The pressure of his hand covering her mouth made her release another small muffled moan against his palm.

"You okay if I keep my hand here?" He asked apprehensively, his eyes flicking between hers before dropping to the hand pressed over her mouth, his other hand continuing to finger-fuck her diligently.

She pursed her lips against the inside of his hand, nearly positive that she'd never been so turned on, not a day in her entire life.

She took in a shaky breath through her nose before nodding silently. She was so close she felt as if her vision was beginning to blur at the edges, her thighs beginning to tremble with her steadily building climax.

Stiles flexed the hand inside of her — for just a moment — to lessen the sore cramping from the repetitive motion of his fingers, resuming only a second later. And instead of ruining the progress toward her climax, the pressure of his palm pressing back down over her clit when he started up again sent her hurtling over the edge.

Her hand slipped down his back and she raked her hands over the fabric of his shirt desperately as her head fell back in pleasure. Her eyes clenched shut and her mouth went slack with a soft, drawn out moan beneath the palm of his left hand. Her hips twitched with each slow wave of the orgasm, continuing on and on when he didn't slow the caress of his fingers the way that she would have if she'd been pleasuring herself.

The hand over her mouth loosened cautiously before sliding to cup her cheek and she gasped a deep breath, her head clearing slightly at the tail end of the extraordinarily long orgasm.

"Okay," She whispered quietly, her body jerking again at the motion his fingers were still making inside of her. She couldn't hold back another quiet whine, "Okay that's-"

She reached down to gently tug at his arm until he got the message and withdrew his fingers. He slowly slipped them out of her underwear entirely and hesitated for a moment before resting his slick hand over her hip and squeezing softly.

Her breathing was heavy, her ears filled with a distant quiet ringing from the sheer strength of her orgasm, and Stiles was looking at her in the dark, his eyes raking over her flushed face in a slow motion.

"God." She whispered, looking up at him in disbelief, "That was-"

He blinked, as if he wasn't one hundred percent sure that she was going to say something positive, and she reached up to pull his mouth down against hers in a bruising kiss. She deepened it after only a few seconds, brushing her tongue across his languidly a couple of times before falling back to rest her head against the mattress again.

"I guess it was okay?" He asked with a nervous grin as he looked down at her again, "Because I've never- I mean, I guess that was kind of obvious, right?"

She slid a hand to cup his neck softly, "I- It's never-" She started in a whisper, the ringing in her ears finally fading out until she could barely hear it, "And then you- It just kept going and- Stiles, I- I'm being so serious right now-"

He interrupted her incoherent rambling by leaning down to kiss her again, brushing a lock of her hair back and tucking it behind her ear softly. He quickly deepened the kiss and her arms wound tight around the back of his neck yet again.

Their tongues brushed languidly for a while before she began to feel the tingling heat of arousal building up inside of her again. Without really thinking, she brought her leg up to wrap around the back of his thighs to pull him against her and he tumbled down clumsily. Each of them made a surprised noise of pleasure into the other's mouth when the hard line of his clothed cock pressed against her.

His mouth opened back up against hers hungrily with their next kiss and she used the leverage granted by her leg wrapped around him to lift her hips from the mattress. Another quiet sound escaped both of them as she began to eagerly grind herself up against his erection. At the obvious encouragement, Stiles readjusted more comfortably and rolled his hips down against her.

She quickly moved to wrap both of her legs around him, her thighs spreading further with the action, and on the next roll of his hips, the firm line of his cock rubbed against her clit over her underwear. It was quite possibly the best thing that she'd ever felt and she found herself meeting each of his movements halfway.

He continued to rut against her, forearms braced on either side of her head, the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress. Her body flushed with heat with the slow build of her second orgasm and she tightened her arms around his shoulders as she separated their mouths.

"That feels. So good." She said quietly, gasping on his next soft grind against her clit.

"I don't wanna come in my pants again but, also-" He rolled his hips down again and again, "'M definitely gonna come in my pants again." He admitted with a soft groan.

"Don't worry-" She gently maneuvered herself until she could press her mouth to the side of his throat in a biting kiss, "Me too."

He groaned again — the pitch of it higher and more desperate and all the more intoxicating — while she continued to kiss at his neck wetly, "Is that, like. Y're gonna come soon, or-" His knees slipped against the bed and his hips rocked that much harder against her, "'Cause 'm gonna come like- Like, really soon-"

Her whole body was overheated, prickling and buzzing of her building climax growing stronger with every firm drag of his cock against her clothed clit, but she knew she wasn't nearly there yet — not like he was. She brushed her lips along his neck in a few more gentle kisses as he ground down in a shaky rhythm.

"Sti, 's okay." She assured him after a moment, words muffled against his throat.

He turned his head and groaned a soft, distressed noise into her hair, "But I don't- I want you to-"

"Hey," She said softly, dropping her head back down against the mattress beneath him. Her lips brushed against his as she continued, "It's okay."

She took his head in her hands softly, her fingertips digging into the short hair behind his ears while she ran her thumbs along his cheekbones. She pressed her lips to his again in a soft peck, feeling it when his hips faltered slightly in their rhythmic movements.

He groaned again quietly, "I- I wanna make you-" He started.

"You can make me come after," She promised softly, "Seriously, 's okay. Come." She kissed him again but frowned when she pulled back slightly to see his face scrunched up like he was desperately trying to do the opposite. "Mieczysław," She murmured against his lips, with the intent of catching him off guard.

She smiled in satisfaction when his eyes flew open to looked down at her in surprise.

"Just let go." She encouraged gently.

"Shit." He dropped his forehead against hers on the next irregular roll of his hips, "So hot. Y're so hot." He pressed a hard kiss to her lips, "Will you- C'n you say it again?" He asked against her mouth, words muffled.

"Come?" She asked softly, her eyes flicking between his in question, "I- Let go?"

"No, no." He shook his head, his face somehow managing to flush a darker tinge of pink, "Shit. C'n you- Just.. Say my n-"

"Mieczysław?" She asked quietly. Stiles groaned again and his hips stuttered against her intoxicatingly, "C'mon, Mieczysław, 's okay." She whispered softly against his lips, her confidence growing when she saw the borderline painful look of bliss on his face. The next time he rutted against her, the head of his cock rubbed against her clit dead on and she gasped in surprise at the jolt of pleasure that shot through her, the name already on the tip of her tongue, "Mieczysław." She moaned quietly this time.

"Holy, god." He groaned in response.

"Feels so good," She breathed softly into the small space between their mouths. On the next roll of his hips, he managed to hit the same spot again by what had to have been pure luck, his tip catching on her clit once again, "Meesch-" A sharp gasp cut her off, "Mieczysław." She tried again, the name rolling from her tongue in a quiet whine.

His hips stuttered against her, mouth falling against hers in a slackened press of lips as his body tensed and jerked above her. She tightened her legs around his backside and rolled her hips on the mattress, grinding up against his cock to make up for his lack of movement. She felt it twitch through the thin fabric between them as he came in his boxers, a hot wet patch forming in the fabric pressed against her cunt. She continued to rut against him as he rode out his orgasm, the waves of it obvious each time his hips stuttered as she kissed him softly.

He dropped his head to her collarbone, panting hot, labored breaths over her skin as he recovered. Unwinding her legs from him slowly, her legs bent and bracketed his hips. She slid her hands down to his neck, fingertips running softly up and down his shoulders and back as his breathing slowed.

After a minute, she felt Stiles rub his forehead against her shoulder before he tilted his head to press gentle kisses to the curve of her neck. He leaned up onto his elbow and dragged his mouth in a slow trail along the sensitive skin, his right hand drifting to rest along her ribcage, thumb rubbing gently at her breast through the cotton of her bra. His tongue came out to brush a spot on the side of her throat on an open mouthed kiss and her hands tightened unconsciously over his tshirt where she'd been rubbing at his shoulders.

"Think I might have a thing for my neck being kissed." She admitted breathlessly, tipping her head to the side to allow him better access.

"Yeah?" He mumbled in question against her skin, scraping his teeth lightly but not biting down.

"Yeah," She affirmed, "Which is really unfortunate because I think hickeys are-" She paused to gasp when he bit down on a small patch of skin and sucked, hard. "Tacky. I-I think hickeys are really tacky." She finished.

"Oh." He laughed into her neck, kissing the skin he'd been abusing softly in apology, "Sorry 'bout that then. Won't do any more."

"The kissing though, the kissing's really good-" She commented, closing her eyes and tipping her head again when he moved to the other side of her neck. He ran his nose softly up her throat as he peppered hot kisses to the newly exposed skin. "Definitely approve of the kissing." She breathed.

The hand at her ribcage drifted lower, until his thumb was teasing at the waistband of her underwear once again, hooking beneath the elastic and tugging gently.

"How do you- D'you want me to finger you again or-" He murmured between kisses to her neck.

She groaned quietly, "Hearing you say it like that 's hot," She cut in, "Like, really, insanely hot." She repeated. His warm tongue came out to lick at a spot under her jaw and her hands fisted the back of his shirt tightly, "So hot." She breathed out.

"You didn't actually answer the question." He told her, pulling back to look down at her with a grin.

"Right." She realized, licking her lips in thought, "Um, okay. It seriously won't take long. If you just-"

He shook his head, "I don't- I don't care how long it takes-" He interjected seriously.

"Hush," She scolded softly, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, "'M tryin' to tell you how to make me come again."

"Carry on." He said quickly.

She dropped her arms from his back and reached her left hand to guide his right one beneath her underwear again. He let out a small breath over her lips and swallowed, eyes flicking between hers as she directed the placement of his fingers over her clit.

"So just- Y'know, right here?" She directed softly, taking a shaky breath as his fingertips came into contact with the small bundle of nerves. She fumbled for how to explain verbally something she'd only ever done to herself, "You don't need to really apply much pressure, just-"

She guided his index and middle finger to press down lightly and moved their hands in a slow motion, his fingers slipping with smooth movements in the slick of her arousal. She waited a few seconds, until she was sure he'd caught on, before removing her hand with a shaky sigh as his fingertips rubbed softly against her clit.

The orgasm she'd been building up a few minutes prior began to re-emerge even quicker than she'd anticipated. As he settled into an easy rhythm, her head fell back and her eyes drifted shut, letting out a long, shaky breath of air.

She could already feel the heat of her climax building in her gut, the familiar tightness in her spine twisting further, and she pinched her eyes shut tighter as the soft fuzz in her brain continued to cloud between heavy breaths.

"You're quieter like this." Stiles commented softly, lowering his head to kiss at her neck again. He moved carefully as he tried not to disrupt the placement of his fingers as he circled the sensitive nub beneath her underwear gently.

"It's easier-" She told him breathlessly, "'S easier when there's just one thing to focus on. When there's something inside it's-"

He mouthed at her neck and her thigh muscles flexed with how wide she had her legs spread beneath him. She gasped quietly and fought to remember what she'd been talking about.

"Overwhelming." She finally finished after a long minute, brain hazy.

The tongue tracing a pattern along her throat trailed up higher as his fingers slipped and swirled around her clit lightly and something inside of her snapped. She choked on a gasp as her orgasm rushed over her in a sudden wave. Her back arched up from the bed, pressing Stiles' face into her neck more firmly with the movement.

The second climax faded more quickly than the first and as soon as her brain cleared, she guided his lips up to hers with her fingers pressed into his jaw. His fingers were still moving in slow, smooth strokes through the wetness between her folds and her hips jerked spastically at the continued stimulation.

"Jesus, Sti, that-" She whispered, body twitching again as she reached down to dislodge his hand gently, "That's- 'm good."

He dropped his hand beside her head and blinked down at her, eyes flicking between hers slowly in the dimlylit room, "Oh, I didn't realize you.. Sorry."

She pressed her lips to his softly, "Don't apologize."

She watched his eyes drop down to the left side of her neck before he grinned at her, "So, no hickeys in the future?"

"Oh god. I have one now though, don't I?" She groaned.

He nodded, leaning down to press his mouth to a spot that she couldn't see, but she felt the way it stung sharply at the light pressure, "Won' happen again." He promised against her skin, kissing it once more before moving back to kiss her on the lips again, "But I will be kissing your neck any and every opportunity I get."

"Somehow, I think I can live with that." She laughed quietly. She bit down softly on her lower lip in deliberation as she looked up at him, "So.." She started slowly, "Mieczysław-"

He groaned in embarrassment and dropped his head against her chest.

"Hey, no, don't do that." She pleaded, reaching up to run her fingers over the softness of his short hair, "I just wanted to be sure, I mean.. That- That's something you like?"

His head rolled to the side but remained laying against her sternum as he spoke, "To be completely honest I didn't really realize it was something I liked 'til you said it. I mean, I probably should've realized it. My dick, like, literally twitched in my pants when you said it in the principal's office yesterday-"

She snorted a laugh, "I'm sorry, what?"

He pushed back up onto his elbows and narrowed his eyes down at her, "Okay, that is not that weird."

"I never said it was weird. I just- I'm surprised. I didn't realize me just saying it could have such a strong effect on you." She grinned in amusement.

"I mean, my dick also twitches like almost every morning when I see you for the first time." He said easily.

Her eyes flicked over his face slowly, "What? Are you being serious?" She asked cautiously.

"Of course I'm serious," He defended, "Dicks kinda do that. I'm pretty sure I've gotten a semi from a good batch of curly fries."

"Dicks are that easy?"

"They're that easy," He agreed with a chuckle, "I'm literally resting in a damp patch of come right now in my shorts and.." He pushed up and looked down at the small space between their bodies, "Yep. Definitely not outta commission."

"Well," She licked her lips, "It's good to know you have a good refractory period. Y'know. For future reference."

He groaned, "Don't say that or I'm really gonna get hard again."

She grinned, "Sorry."

He shook his head and leaned down to press a kiss of forgiveness to her lips with a smile of his own, "Change into pajamas and then bed?" He asked against her lips.

"Pajamas and then bed." She agreed easily, heart fluttering contentedly in her chest as his mouth captured hers in one final, lingering kiss.

The next night, Lydia picked through the small basket containing Amber's nail polish collection disapprovingly while a trashy television show played unwatched in the background.

"If the impressive hickey on your neck is any indication, I'd say your date went pretty well last night." Lydia stated slowly, attempting to sound bored but very clearly interested.

"My god," Amber started simply, pausing the motions of where she'd been painting her fingernails to throw her head back against the couch, "Lydia."

"Is that a, what do I do, the guy I'm in love with is awful in bed 'my god' or a Stilinski is secretly a sex god 'my god'?" Lydia questioned.

"I don't even know," Amber sighed, continuing quickly when Lydia shot her a sharp look, "I mean, it was seriously so.. He's so hot. And so, like, attentive? And hot. And he takes direction really well and his fingers. Lyds. He's so-"

"If the next word out of your mouth is 'hot', I'm leaving." The other girl threatened.

Amber held up her hands in surrender and sat back up to resume painting her nails, "It was very, very good. That's all I'm saying."

Lydia huffed suddenly, "Where is that pretty pink color you were wearing a couple weeks ago?" She asked, still furiously digging through the tiny bottles of nail polish.

Amber paused where she was finishing painting nude color over her own nails and frowned in thought, "Um, maybe it's in the cupboard in the downstairs bathroom?" She pondered aloud.

Lydia sighed woefully and stood from the couch, heading down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Amber finished touching up her nails and recapped the nail polish before dropping it into the basket with the rest of her collection. She blew a puff of air over the wet paint in an attempt to get them to dry faster when there was a familiar, ear-piercing scream from down the hallway.

She stumbled as she stood from the couch, legs tanging frustratingly in the throw blanket for a moment before she managed to kick herself free and run down the hall. When she pushed into the bathroom, Lydia was still screaming in horror, arms wrapped around her head protectively as she stood next to the open bathroom window.

"What?! Lydia!" Amber yelled, pulling her friend away from the window to look her up and down for any sort of injury, "Lydia, what-"

Her screams finally faded and Lydia pointed to the window with tears in her eyes, "He was there, again." The redhead whispered fearfully, "I saw him again. Amber, I swear to god he was right there."

"Who?" She asked quickly, looking back over her shoulder and out the window anxiously for a second, "Who was it?"

"Peter Hale." Lydia whispered, avoiding her gaze and instead focussing on a freckle on Amber's shoulder.

"Pete- Peter Hale?" She repeated slowly in confusion, "Peter Hale was outside?"

Lydia nodded, "But I don't know if it was really him." She admitted in a hushed voice, "He-he was twitching and thrashing around like he was seizing or something and- And when I saw him before his skin was burned and repulsive, but.. But this time he looked perfectly normal. And- I swear it must've been him at school yesterday-"

"You saw him at school?" Amber interrupted frantically.

"He led us to the trophy case," Lydia said, finally looking up at the brunette in confusion, "You were right behind me when we were following him."

Amber shook her head, "Lydia, I was only following you. There- there wasn't anybody else in the hallway."

Lydia's lower lip trembled, "I am not crazy."

Amber firmly gripped Lydia's shoulders beneath her hands, "I don't think you're crazy, okay?"

"But you think I'm seeing things- Things that aren't there." Lydia stated.

"I- I think that trauma does crazy things to us." Amber said slowly, "Especially when we bottle it up, and push it down, and avoid talking about it at all costs." She finished pointedly.

Lydia nodded, jaw clenched, "I-"

"Peter Hale is dead," Amber promised, "He's dead, alright? He can never hurt you again."

Lydia nodded once more and when her lip quivered again, Amber pulled her into a tight hug. The brunette wasn't expecting the embrace to be returned, but Lydia's arms came up quickly to wrap around her and she buried her face in her friend's neck as she began to cry.

"He can't hurt you." Amber promised again quietly, words muffled in Lydia's long hair, "He's dead. He can't hurt you, and I'll never let anyone hurt you again."

A week passed without further incident from Lydia, Derek's new pack, or the mysterious tailed creature that Scott and Allison had seen on the night of the full moon. Amber had tried to call Derek nearly a dozen times, but the number she had saved for him could no longer be accessed, greeting her with an obnoxious error message every time she tried to call.

At school the following Monday, she headed down the hallway on a mission. Scott had mentioned that he planned to confront Erica about Derek's future plans for his pack, but Amber hoped that she might be more successful getting information out of the other girl on her own.

She came to a stop just behind the blonde where she was standing at her locker fixing her lipgloss. Amber narrowed her eyes at the back of the werewolf's head as she tried to psych herself up to confront her.

Erica seemed to sense her presence after only a second and she turned around to look at Amber with a coy grin.

"Who's next?" Amber asked her, "I just know Derek's gonna change at least three, right? So who is it gonna be?"

Erica hummed a quiet laugh and closed her locker door before crossing the hallway, focussing on Amber with an eerily hungry look in her eyes. She backed the brunette into the wall on the other side of the hallway as she spoke in a soft, enticing voice.

"Why does there have to be someone else when we could have you?" Erica asked, batting her eyes innocently, "I know Derek wants you to join us. You could, you know." She said softly, bringing her arms up to the wall on either side of Amber's head and effectively caging her in.

"C'mon, Erica. Seriously, who does he have in mind?" She reiterated, trying intently to not focus on the close proximity of the werewolf to herself.

"Hm," Erica hummed, "Did you know, I never knew what I looked like during a seizure until someone took a video of me once and put it online?"

"I'm sorry. They shouldn't've done that." Amber said earnestly, unsure where exactly the blonde was going with the story.

"It happened during class," Erica continued, "I started seizing at my desk and everyone was saying how they should put something in my mouth until you noticed the little card on my keyring that says not to because it could break my teeth."

"I- I forgot about that." Amber admitted softly, thinking back and trying to remember the event that had taken place in the eighth grade.

"D'you remember what happened next?" Erica questioned, voice sounding surprisingly emotional. Amber shook her head and Erica's eyes narrowed as she leaned closer, "I piss myself. And they all start laughing," She recounted, "Y'know, the only good thing about seizures was that I never remembered them.. Until some brilliant Jerk-off!" Erica yelled the last word and Amber flinched at the scream so close to her own face, "-Had to go put cameras in everybody's phone."

"I'm really sorry that happened, Erica." Amber said, voice shaking embarrassingly with nerves, "It's terrible. But-"

"But, look at me now," Erica interrupted, dropping her gaze down her own body to gesture to her ample cleavage between them.

Amber couldn't help the way her own eyes followed Erica's movement and she tore her gaze back up to the other girl's face quickly, blinking as she tried to regain her composure. Erica laughed at the brunette in satisfaction and Amber flushed in embarrassment. Her eyes drifted down the hallway and she spotted Stiles at his own locker, holding the metal door in one hand as he looked down the hall at the two girls in confusion.

Erica followed her gaze this time and waved at Stiles with a sly wiggle of her fingers, "Hm, you only have eyes for him?" She pouted, leaning closer.

"Yes." Amber said firmly, reaching up to push the other girl back a step with hands on her shoulders, "And if you're not going to tell me what's going on with Derek, then I guess we're done here."

"Oh, don't be like that," Erica grinned, "I think there's a little conversation involving you, me, and Stiles that might be worth having-"

"No, thanks." Amber smiled tightly, "See you, Erica."

She shouldered past the werewolf and rushed down the hallway, heart still pounding in her chest. She hurried to where Stiles was still at his locker, putting his things away before lunch. He caught sight of her when she was only a few steps away and he raised his eyebrows in question.

"What was that about?" He asked, nodding toward where she'd been standing with Erica a few moments before.

"I was asking her who Derek was planning to turn next." She explained in a huff, annoyed at how badly the conversation had gone.

"Huh," Stiles said, closing his locker and dropping an arm around her shoulders as they headed toward the cafeteria, "It almost looked like she was gonna to kiss you." He laughed at the suggestion.

"Yeah.." She shook her head distractedly, "Things got kind of weird."

Stiles' steps faltered for only a moment as they walked and he looked at her in bewilderment, "Was she gonna to kiss you?"

"I'm honestly not sure," Amber admitted, "Like I said. things got weird. I think she was trying to throw me off so I'd forget my initial question."

Stiles was frowning and looked like he wanted to say something more, but his eyes seemed to catch on something as they stepped into the lunchroom.

"What?" She asked, reaching up to press her hand into his spine beneath his sweatshirt.

"Oh, no." He muttered, quickly dragging her across the cafeteria to where Scott was sitting.

Amber stumbled, tightening her hand around the fabric of his undershirt as she was dragged along. They stopped to stand behind Scott and Stiles pointed frantically in front of Scott's face toward a spot a few tables away.

"D'you see that?" Stiles asked them, eyes wide.

"What?" Scott questioned in confusion, following the line of Stiles' finger across the room, "It's an empty table."

"Oh, no." Amber realized, eyes glued to the table she and Stiles had been sitting at just the week before to make the trade for the keys to the ice rink.

"But whose table?" Stiles prompted Scott.

Scott's eyes widened as he, too, finally registered the information in front of him, "Boyd!"

After classes were over, Amber rushed down the hallway between her two best friends, pulling the straps of her backpack tighter over her shoulders as she and Stiles followed Scott out the front doors of the building.

"I'm heading to the ice rink to see if he's there," Scott told them, "If he's not at home, one of you call me. Got it?" He paused in his steps to give them a serious look.

"Wh- I-" Amber frowned, biting at her lip indecisively, "Maybe we should let him? Boyd, I mean. I- It's not like Derek's forcing them to do anything. He’s giving them a choice, right?" Just like he gave me, she thought silently.

Stiles tilted his head and shrugged, "She's kinda got a point, man."

Scott shook his head vehemently and moved between them to urge his friends forward again, "We can't."

"You gotta admit, Erica looks.. Really good." Amber pointed out.

Stiles nodded, "I'm- The word 'sensational' comes to mind." He added quickly.

His eyes flicked to Amber immediately upon processing what he'd said and she rolled her eyes fondly as she reached around to pat his shoulder to reassure him that she wasn't offended.

Scott stammered in disbelief, "Yeah? I- H- How good do you guys think she's gonna look with a wolfsbane bullet in her head?"

"Alright." Stiles conceded, "All we're saying is, maybe this one isn't totally your responsibility."

"They all are," Scott said slowly, "And you guys know this thing's gonna get out of control. That makes me responsible."

"Alright," Stiles repeated, "We're with you. And.. I gotta say. This newfound ‘heroism’ thing is making me very attracted to you."

Amber snorted and Scott laughed in quiet reluctance.

"Shut up." Scott huffed, an embarrassed smile on his face.

"I couldn't agree more." Amber grinned, leaning against Scott until he was caged firmly between her and Stiles.

"'m serious," Stiles continued to press, "You wanna just, try making out for a sec?" He asked Scott.

Amber pushed up onto her toes and playfully brought her lips closer to Scott's face, puckering and leaning in until he broke and laughed, shoving them both away gently before continuing down the path to the parking lot and leaving them behind.

Stiles grinned at her and shrugged as if saying, What are you gonna do?

"Oh, well. I guess I'm stuck kissing you." He said in faux disappointment.

"Oh, no," She smiled fondly, "That's terrible."

He leaned down to press his lips to hers for only a second before he continued to pull her down the stairs toward the parked Jeep. The two climbed in quickly and as they started down the road, she turned in her seat to watch him drive.

"You do know where Boyd lives, right?" She questioned suddenly.

"Yeah, of course I do." Stiles said easily, eyes flicking across the car to look at her for a moment as he made a turn, "I had to give his keys back to him before he could go to work last Saturday."

"Oh, right." She nodded, leaning back in the passenger seat in relief.

The Boyd household was close to the school, only a few blocks away, and it didn’t take long at all to get there. Stiles parked on the curb and they both tumbled out of the vehicle and rushed up the path to the house.

"Boyd!" Amber shouted, "You home?"

She knocked on the door in a succession of quick raps of her fist while Stiles peeked in through the windows off to the side of the front stoop.

"Hey, Boyd?" He called out, "It's Stiles- Oh! Wow!" He exclaimed suddenly.

Amber spun around to see what had frightened him and found Erica standing directly behind them on the small doorstep, laughing at them amusedly and shaking her head.

"What are you doing here, guys?" Erica asked softly, smiling at them patronizingly, as if she'd caught them sneaking cookies before dinner.

"Uh, n-" Stiles started nervously, "We were just looking for, um.."

"Boyd?" Erica asked gently, eyes flicking between the two of them.

"Yup!" Amber confirmed quickly as Stiles agreed beside her, "But, he's not home, so I guess-"

"You know what you're both doing right now that's kinda funny?" Erica interrupted, looking back and forth between them again, "You're only looking at my eyes."

At the reminder, Amber nearly let her gaze drop down to the abundant amount of cleavage the other girl had on display, but she managed to stop herself at the last second with an awkward laugh.

"That's funny?" Stiles asked Erica.

"Well, yeah," The blonde grinned, looking between them with narrowed eyes, "Because it's that kind of look where you're both trying not to look anywhere but my eyes-"

"Wh- Why would we want to look anywhere but your eyes?" Amber questioned with a laugh.

Erica raised her eyebrows, "Mm, because I'm attractive.. And I have certain assets-"

"Seems incredibly rude to look anywhere but your eyes when we're having a conversation." Amber interrupted quickly, catching Stiles frantically nodding his head beside her out of the corner of her eye.

"But you want to, don't you?" Erica asked with an enchanting smile, stepping closer to them until her chest lightly brushed against them both as her gaze flicked between them, "Both of you. You want a nice, long. hard. look."

"Not really, no." Stiles denied quickly.

"Oh." Erica frowned, taking a small step back, "So, it's just my eyes?"

He nodded, "Yes. You have beautiful eyes."

Erica grinned, "I have beautiful everything."

"-And a newfound self-confidence." He observed.

"That's really great, Erica." Amber added quickly, grabbing Stiles' arm and pulling him a step to the side, "But, we should get going-"

Erica pushed both of them back lightning fast with a hand at the center of each of their chests, "You're not going anywhere."

"Why not?" Stiles questioned nervously.

Erica stepped back to grab a large, mysterious hunk of metal from her jacket pocket and held it up with an innocent grin, "You're having car trouble." She shrugged

The blonde swung her arm out to bash Stiles across the temple with the unknown car part and Amber gasped, eyes wide. He fell to the ground, a small cut on the side of his forehead bleeding slowly and Amber looked back to the werewolf furiously.

"Are you insane?" She yelled angrily, heart hammering in her chest.

Erica pursed her lips with a small shrug, "Huh. Y'know, I'm not sure."

The brunette flinched but didn't have enough time to dodge the blow before Erica had swung again and hit her on the side of her head with the heavy piece of metal. Amber fell back in a slow blur, consciousness gone completely before she'd even landed atop Stiles' unmoving body.

[soulofapatrick]

Not That Type of Crush - Stiles Stilinski

Summary: You finally get tired of Lydia trying to set you up with girls when Stiles gets in on it

Words: 648

warnings: none I think

Y/N's POV

"You know Kira's had a crush on you since like forever, right?" Lydia tells me as we're sat at lunch.

"OH! Why don't we go on like a three way date?" Allison chimes in, "Scott and Lydia, Me and Isaac and you and Kira."

"No thank you, I'm okay," I brush off the uncomfortableness I always feel when Allison and Lydia try and get me to go on dates with some girls they know. Although Kira's part of the pack I'm not interesting in dating her or any girl in this school. I'm not interested in dating any girl. Full stop.

It took me a while to come to terms with the fact I don't really find girl attractive romantically. I can definitely confirm that they're attractive but I'm not attracted. Oh no, I found out pretty quickly after starting at Beacon Hills High that the guys at this school are very easy on the eyes.

Nearly all of them. Jackson... well, that's a different story. He and I quickly became best friends when he took me under his wing for some reason and introduced me to the pack after he found out I was a werefox.

Let's just say that as soon as I set eyes on one certain brunette who has a tendency to trip over flat surfaces, I was the one to fall. Oh man he was beautiful and I had to advert my gaze before Jackson caught on as Jackson, quite quickly became able to read me. The look that I got was enough for now: lean and attractive with moles scattered across his pale skin, brown hair messy and eyes a deep shade of cognac that made me weak at the knees. I had to grab Jackson's arm when Stiles smiled at me for the first time.

"Y/N?" Lydia kicks me lightly under the table, "Who's this mystery girl on your mind, huh?"

"No-one" I grumble, glaring at my empty sandwich wrapper and luckily for me, before Lydia can probe much more the bell cuts us off and I'm running to my next class to get away.

--------

"So, Lydia tells me you have a crush on a girl," Stiles pipes up at the end of the day as we're walking across the parking lot towards his famous jeep.

"No. I. Don't." I punctuate every word but my blush gives me away I think.

"You won't even tell me?" He pulls those stupid puppy dog eyes as we stop next to the jeep.

"Stiles!" I finally snap, pushing him against the side of the jeep as his plush and wet lips in that pout send me over the edge. Before I know what I'm doing I'm slamming my lips against his and kissing him, "It's you." I growl, knowing my eyes are probably glowing their werefox green as I pull away, the wild side of me just wanting to claim what is mine.

"Me?" He chokes out and I can't read his eyes like normal, causing me to step away but I don't get any more than one step away before he's grabbing my wrist, yanking me forwards and slamming me against the jeep this time, "You don't understand how long I have wanted to hear you say that." He whispers, lips ghosting mine before he finally kisses me and oh god it's better than I ever imagined. His lips are sweet from the strawberries he was eating last period and his hands are all over me, one tugging at my hair which elicits a small sound from me while the other grips my hip so tightly I hope it'll bruise.

"IT WAS STILES?!" Lydia's shriek has Stiles pulling away from me but not in an embarrassed way, just an interrupted way, "I THOUGHT YOU'D NEVER FIGURE IT OUT!"

"YOU KNEW?!" I yell back, causing Stiles to chuckle beside me, "DEAD TO ME!"

[stiles-o-dylan24]

It's Always Been You Bonus Scene 1 - Wolfsbane Hallucination

Author: @stiles-o-dylan24 Pairing: Stiles x Addy McCall Word Count: 3.1k Requested: Can you maybe write something about Addy telling Stiles what she saw during the hallucinations in season 2 at Lydia's party and having a Staddy fluffy moment? I don't remember but I think after that moment it never brought up again and kinda always wanted to see how Stiles would react, if it's okay for you of course! And obv if you want to write it take your time, don't rush it! 💕 A/N: Here you go sweets, it's been forever and a day but hopefully you're still around and you enjoy this! I'm putting this as taking place at the end of season 4 so you have an idea of the timeline of everything! Any other deleted/bonus scenes you guys want please don't hesitate to send them in bc I'm fully on my IABY bullshit while I edit the whole series to be ready for binding. Love you all!🩵 IABY PLAYLIST || <<PREV || MASTERLIST  ||  NEXT>>  ||

Another day another Lydia birthday party is in full swing– which is already a better turnout than the impromptu lake house party a couple of months ago.

That night we found the deadpool list and now we’re back from Mexico and Lydia promised a gathering to make us celebrate the fact that we’re all alive.

Stiles and I are in the backyard and he’s leaning back against one of the beams attached to the overhead pergola while I lean my back against his chest. He’s got his arms wrapped around my shoulders and my hands are gently gripping onto his forearms. 

The party is more so taking place inside since it was raining earlier– which is how Stiles got me to come outside with him. I’ve got the smell of rain, the pergola fairy lights and best of all my Stiles… so I’m pretty happy right now. 

Stiles is silent though and I could think he was just enjoying the quiet with me while the thumping bass of the party sounds in the house behind us, if it weren’t for the noise he just made. The noise is one he makes when he’s thinking about something that’s bothering him and once that noise is followed by him kissing my temple and squeezing his arms around me a little more… I know it’s something about me.

I move my thumbs against his forearms a little, leaning my head back against his shoulder as I ask him “What are you thinking about?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing” Stiles replies too quickly and I throw him a look “Come on, at least lie better than that”

“I can’t lie to you” Stiles chuckles softly and I nod once, turning in his arms to face him while I smile brightly at him “I know.” I set my hands on his chest and slowly slide them up to wrap my arms behind his neck, asking him “So then tell me what’s on your mind”

Stiles makes a noise and takes a deep breath, slowly releasing it as he sets his hands on my hips and pulls me a little closer “Do yo– do you remember Lydia’s birthday party?”

“This one?” I laugh softly and he throws me a look “Obviously you remember this one or we have bigger problems right now concerning your memory, cutie.”

I snort and smile at him “Alright so not this one– which leaves last year because we’ve only been to two of her parties”

“Right,” he clears his throat, nodding his head ever so slightly and connecting his eyes with mine “So last year when we were all kinda…” he trails off and I nod once, my stomach dropping as I stand up a little more “Oh… umm yeah, the night of the wolfsbane” I smile softly at him, instantly hit with what I saw and really hoping he doesn't ask me about it. 

“The hallucinations, yeah” Stiles clarifies and I nod slowly, trying to smile like it’s no big deal while also imploring “What’s making you think about that night?”

Stiles doesn’t answer right away, just moves his thumbs against my sides as he moves his eyes between mine. He licks his lips quickly and tilts his head a little to the side “Well I was just thinking back… and I– well you never said what you saw that night… when I asked you what you hallucinated, you told me it didn’t matter, remember?”

“Because it didn’t” I say gently, smiling to soften the blow of my deflection, however, he just narrows his eyes in thought at me “Right but it does matter. What we all saw was something that we were deep down afraid of actually happening or being true so I’m just curious I guess… why do you say it doesn’t matter?”

“Sty, come on” I breathe out, looking around the backyard for an escape plan. I feel him keep his hold on me so I don’t step away from him as he asks me in a soft whisper “Was it your dad? I mean from how he was when we were kids?”

I look back at him, breathing in deeply and slowly releasing it as I barely shake my head and answer him softly, “No, it wasn’t about him.”

“Ok then what was it?” he questions gently, looking at me with so much love in his eyes. I can tell how much this means to him but I can’t shake the nerves and embarrassment of actually telling him what happened in my mind. I mean he saw his dad blaming him for his mom’s death and Scott saw Jacksanima hooking up with Allison on the stairs and I what? Had a phenomenal kiss and then ultimate whiplash as he said it would never be right? No way I can share that with the person I’m now dating. 

“Why are you remembering that night in particular right now?” I ask and he shrugs, looking around the backyard “We were standing basically right here with Scott that night. You looked…” he trails off, shaking his head and breathing out a soft huff before he connects his eyes with mine “Fuck, Adds, you looked gorgeous in that maroon lace dress and your black leather jacket.”

“You remember what I was wearing?” I say softly, my heart doing that little flutter thing that only Stiles can make happen and he makes a noise “Uh yeah I remember with vivid clarity the moment I walked into your house and I saw you. You made me stop breathing and I’m pretty sure I passed out because I think Scott hit my shoulder and said something but I couldn’t hear him and next thing I knew I was driving us to the party.” 

I chuckle softly, knowing my eyes are sparkling as I look up at him and he continues “I mean you always look amazing, Adds– but something about you looking all sexy badass that night…” he trails off, breathing in deeply as his fingers dig into my sides a little more and he pulls me against him “Yeah, I almost blurted out that I was in love with you.”

“You did not” I chuckle softly and he makes a face like I could not be more wrong, “Uh yeah I did, ask Scott– the way he looked at me was the only thing that made me not because it wasn’t the right time. I also wasn’t aware he knew at the time but either way we were drinking and that wouldn’t have been the right time– right?”

“No it wouldn’t have been the right time” I agree with him, scrunching my nose up a little as I continue “Especially since you’re right we were drinking and I fully thought you were going to say Lydia’s name and I drank even more because I couldn’t handle hearing your declaration of love about her again at that moment.”

Stiles snorts and looks up to the covered lighted up pergola above us, breathing out “Of course you thought that” he shakes his head and looks at me again “So you were drinking because of me being a dumbass–” 

“No, I was drinking because Lydia was being mind controlled by Peter and was sweetly forcing us all to drink spiked wolfsbane punch” I interrupt and he narrows his eyes at me “That may be why you took the first drink but I was the reason you drank more” I make a noise to argue, however, he just grips onto me a little more and doesn’t let me say another word as he rushes out “Which means you hallucinated what you did because of me which means you should tell me what you saw that night.”

“Why is this so important to you right now?” I ask, trying not to be defensive but I can’t help it when I’m just flooded with the memories of that night. “I mean,” I clear my throat and soften my voice, because even through the embarrassment taking hold on me I do know he’s just being his amazingly sweet self, “Why is it all of a sudden bothering you enough to want to know now?”

“It’s always bothered me, Adds,” he answers without missing a beat, his eyes so sincere I melt against him a little more while he continues “I’ve always wanted to know– since it happened to you.” His thumbs brush against my sides again, succeeding in lifting up my shirt so he’s touching my skin “The look on your face that night when I found you again has been burned in my brain. All I wanted to do was hug you and comfort you but you wouldn’t let me– I mean, you wouldn’t even look at me. Then fucking Matt almost drowned and we figured out he was the– you know, then the night and following days got crazy but that didn’t change the fact that I wanted to be there for you. Now I feel like I'm allowed to be there for you and comfort you even when you tell me nothing is bothering you– I’m allowed to be there for you in ways I wasn’t before and dammit woman, I want you to just let me.”

I chuckle and kiss him softly, “Okay” I murmur against his lips and he repeats “Okay? Like okay okay?”

I nod and pull back just enough to narrow my eyes playfully at him “Yes– okay as in I’ll tell you but after I do you have to drop it because half the reason I didn’t want to say anything was because I was embarrassed”

“Embarrassed?” Stiles scrunches his face up adorably and I throw him a look “Yes… now promise.”

“I promise after you tell me I will drop it” he repeats and I nod once “Thank you.”

Stiles kisses me quickly and says “Now tell me what you saw and were embarrassed about” he smiles wide “Please”

“Jesus you’re persistent” I grumble and he winks, his hands gripping onto me a little more “It’s why you love me”

I playfully glare at him, murmuring quietly “Yeah, yeah, yeah” and he gets impatient “Come on, tell me already”

“Oh for fucks sake” I throw him a look, and he smiles even wider at me. I chew on the inside of my cheek for a few seconds, taking a deep breath to try to calm my nerves before I rip off the bandaid and rush out quickly “I hallucinated that you kissed me.”

Stiles’ brows raise instantly with my words “I kissed you–” he licks his lips quickly “You hallucinated that I kissed you?” he repeats, a bright cocky smile starting to come over his features and I grimace since I have to tell him the next part “Well that’s not all so don’t get too cocky.”

“Oh my god was it a bad kiss?” he draws his brows in on his own embarrassed grimace “It was wasn’t it? Is that why you waited so long to actually kiss me?”

“Nope– it was a good” I release a shaky breath “A really good kiss actually.”

“Oh really?” he says, cocky smile back on his face and I narrow my eyes at him “Stop it”

“Sorry” he murmurs, half smiling as pulls me more against his chest “Tell me how it played out then.”

I look up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes and I breathe out nervously, shaking my head as I look away and focus on his chest “Well I was walking through the living room and you stalked towards me through the crowd of people with these deliberate I’d burn the world down for you steps until you set your hands on my hips and backed me against the wall… then you kissed me” I breathe in deeply, not really wanting to keep going “But then you…” I trail off quietly and Stiles’ voice is softer, more gentle as he asks even more quietly “Then what happened?” 

I squeeze my eyes closed and grimace “Just as quickly as you kissed me you stopped and when I opened my eyes, you were looking at me but the look on your face… it was like you–” I clear my throat, my voice barely above a whisper as I tell him “It was like you just made the biggest mistake of your life”

“Adds–” he tries but I shake my head and look at him sadly before I drop my eyes again and look at my hands on his chest “Then you said ‘You’re not her and that this isn’t right’ you dropped your hands from my sides and you stepped back throwing in the next gut punch of ‘This will never be right’ before you walked into the crowd of people in front of us. I went to follow you but then it was like I was thrown back into this reality and the music was suddenly blaring again and everyone was dancing not even paying attention to me.”

It’s silent after I finish telling him what happened and I want to disappear with explaining everything that I still unfortunately remember. Stiles takes a few more silent seconds before he murmurs “Hey” and I make a little noise to acknowledge him and he chuckles softly “Come on baby, show me your blues”

The corners of my mouth lift a little as I silently curse him for somehow always getting me to listen to him and I slowly look up at him. When my eyes connect with his I don’t see anything but reassurance and love looking right back at me “You do realize that you never have to worry about what was said being true right? You have and will always be the only her in my mind– there will never be anyone else”

I smile softly with his words, nodding a little and he squeezes me to him a little more “You could have told me what happened that night”

Shaking my head I scoff lightheartedly “Sty, come on there’s absolutely no way I could have told you”

“Yes you could have!” He insists, chuckling a little “Then I could have told you that you were crazy–”

I snort and level him with a look “Yes brilliant idea to tell the girl who just hallucinated her first kiss with the guy she’s in love with that she’s crazy.”

“Okay we all were hallucinating that night” he tries to reassure me and I narrow my eyes thoughtfully at him “Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better”

Stiles laughs softly, clearing his face of any humor as he gets a little more serious “Adds, if you told me that night what happened I would have told you right then that I was in love with you and only you”

I make a noise and ramble lightly “Well I wouldn’t have ever explained what happened that night because I thought you were in love with Lydia, so that just screams awkward trying to have you comfort me and my feelings when you love someone else but don’t want to hurt me and those feelings that just got dumped on you.”

He just blinks a few times and groans frustratedly, resting his forehead against mine “I can’t believe I was so stupid as to ever say something in your vicinity that would ever make you think you weren’t the only girl for me.”

I chuckle and move my nose along his “Yes, well… even Sherlock has his off days” I say gently and he connects his eyes with mine, breathing out a soft little chuckle.

He moves his eyes between mine before he lifts his head off mine and smiles like he just got a great idea “C’mere” he mumbles, reaching up and grabbing one of my hands in his before he starts walking me across the patio “Where are we going?” I ask, quickly moving my feet to keep up with him.

“Just follow me, babe” he says over his shoulder, keeping his hand tightly around mine as we walk into the living room. I flinch back a little from the loud music and talking noise, staying right behind him as he guides us through the crowd. 

He walks past everyone that’s standing around talking and dancing on and near the staircase before he leads us over to Lydia’s dad’s old office. Figuring Lydia would have locked these doors I draw my brows together curiously as he opens one of the french doors and leads us inside.

I walk further into the office towards the bookcase on the far wall and I turn around to look at him as he closes and locks the door. I raise a brow and look from the lock and up to connect my gaze with his “What exactly are we doing in here?”

Stiles just keeps his gaze locked on mine as he murmurs simply “This” and recreates the I’d burn the world down for you steps I told him about and quickly stalks towards me. I make a little noise when he sets his hands on my hips and presses me back against the bookshelf, smiling in his adorably sexy way before he kisses me.

Yeah I may have thought the hallucination was a good kiss but I didn’t know any better because kissing the real thing is unlike anything I could have imagined. I set my hands on his sides, feeling him lift one hand to cradle the side of my face in his palm as he pulls me impossibly closer and moves his lips against mine. 

I can’t even help the whimper that I make as I kiss him back, my hands gripping his shirt at his sides. Stiles responds with his own soft moan at my response and uses his hand to gently tilt my head and deepen the kiss. 

He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead on mine, gazing into my eyes as he moves his thumb against my cheek “Nothing has or will ever feel as right as this does, Adds. You are it for me and I will spend the rest of my life showing you how true that is so you will never question it, okay?”

“Yup” I sigh dreamily, wrapping my arms around his middle and licking my lips quickly as I smile softly up at him “I understand you loud and clear.”

He chuckles, his eyes dropping to my lips as he licks his own and murmurs “Good” before he gives me another earth shattering kiss.

IABY PLAYLIST || <<PREV || MASTERLIST  ||  NEXT>>  ||

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Always love to hear your lovely people’s thoughts & if you’re not comfortable with that a like/reblog gives me just as much life! Please let know what you thought I'm so sorry to any and everyone who would not wished to be tagged anymore. Wasn't really sure how to tag this so just figured the last like I had for IABY and the IABY movie coming up would be ok. But please let me know if you would prefer to not be tagged in any IABY stuff in the future!

IABY Taglist:  @lettersofwrittencollective • @brien-odylan @softpeteparker • @biles-bilinski-24 • @thatsuperherosidekick • @tothestarsandreams • @puppershnupps • @stilessarcasmqueen • @fandom-princess-forevermore • @glittercoveredsouls • @hueycat2004 • @fortunatelydelicateearthquake • @thehall0wqueeen • @kateeee0817 • @anoddsightcomeoutatnight • @marauderskeeper • @shantayok • @peachyinparis • @emichelle • @humbledarkness • @24-stilinski • @all-will-be-well-love • @screamxqueenx94 • @genius2050 • @soccersarah07 • @vikshee • @slothcat67 • @stilinski-fucking-obrien • @lemmereaditall • @redsalv20 • @the-winchester-girl02 •​ @missdicaprio • @awkwarddoctor • @cutiepiemimi13 •​ @thejourneyneverendsx • @xceafh • @michellebarista •​ @wandascarlett • @musicxlover97 • @fan-girl-97 •​ @theholydestiny • @nalu-ismyjam •​ @piccasoe •​ @bilesxbilinskixlahey • @nikki1dxx​ • @screaminggoatsposts • @kiwihoee • @teen--marvel @hogwartsstar • @sheerfreesia007 • @kmc1989 •

Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent.  This work is property of @stiles-o-dylan24.   These characters, with the exception of Addy McCall(homegirl was all me), aren’t mine but this fanfiction is.   These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.   No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.  

Posted 14 May 2024

[myocsfanfictions]

The Vengeful Deceiver - Teen Wolf Fanfiction

Scarlett Black, she has been a vampire for 8 years and now forced to go back to school, forced to control herself in front of so much food. All for a puppy.

MASTERLIST

<< Previous - Next >>

CHAPTER 8

"So you killed her?" Stiles asked as they entered the school.

"I don't know," Scott answewd, "I've just woke up."

The puppy remembered what had happened the night before. More or less. But he remembered as if it had been a dream and, of course, that he had attacked Allison. As if he couldn't become more predictable...

Anyway, Scarlett feared that he would have remembered her, but she could not go away now; it would have been too strange.

"I was sweating like crazy; I couldn't breathe. I never had a dream where I woke up like that before," Scott said, turning to them.

"Really?" Stiles asked from next to Scarlett, "I have. Usually ends a little differently." A smirk appeared on her lips as she looked at him. Stiles spun his head towards her with wide eyes.

"I... I mean..." she could feel how flustered he was. That was so strange. She could not only see it, she felt it. And she had to fight her fangs to come out.

"It's alright," she said, smirking up at him. "We all have wet dreams."

"Oh my god..." but she ignored him, wanting to know more about the puppy and what he remembered. So she could come up with a quick response if needed.

"Yeah, but A, I never had a dream that felt so real," Scott said, glaring at his friend, "And B, never give me that many details of you in bed."

Stiles nodded his head, looking at Scarlett for a brief moment, "Noted," then he took a deep breath, "Let me take a guess here though-"

"No, I know," Scott interrupted him, "You think it has something to do with me going out with Allison tomorrow like I'm gonna lose control and rip her throat out."

Scarlett did her best not to roll her eyes. The puppy really had only one thought in his head. But that was not exactly a bad thing. If it made him remember everything as if it were a dream, the better. Well, no, maybe not, since the body of the Driever was still in the parking lot.

"No, of course not," Stiles was saying, but when Scott turned to him with a glare, he spoke again, "Yeah, that's probably it."

Scarlett shook her head, "In the dream there was blood?"

Scott looked at her before sadly nodding his head.

"Alright," she said, "And nothing of yours was covered in blood? Or have her scent?"

Scott seemed to think about it. She was sure there was no trace of blood on him since he did absolutely nothing if not put himself in between. But she needed to look nice and understanding, so when he told her that he did not see blood or remember her scent, Scarlett smiled.

"I think you're probably fine, then," Scarlett said, "It must have been just a dream."

"Scarlett is right," Stiles said, looking at his friend. "Come on, it's gonna be fine, all right?" but Scott didn't answer, "Personally, I think you're handling this pretty freakin' amazingly. You know, it's not like there's a lycanthropy for beginners class you can take," then he turned to Scarlett, "Right?" the girl frowned.

"No, listen, don't look here," she said, "He'd need another werewolf."

"Like a teacher?" Scott asked, but in the way he said it, it seemed like he had already thought about that.

Scarlett nodded her head, "Everybody needs to learn somehow," she said, "Your body changes, your needs change. And soon, if you don't control it, it's going to control you," She still remembered what Talia had always said to her. From the moment they had found her, Talia and Peter had been the ones helping her with the beginning of her change. Even if, after everything that happened, Scarlett didn't keep her promise to stay as human as she could. She killed for rage at the beginning, but then it became fun. She knew that Talia didn't want that for her, but there was nothing else to do, if not killing every single Argent.

Stiles turned to his friend with wide eyes, "Who Derek?" he asked, and when Scott didn't answer, he slapped him behind the head, "You forgetting the part where we got him tossed in jail?"

What did she have to do? Say something? Say anything? Say that she knew Derek Hale? Or maybe not?

Maybe telling everything would have been more suspicious. Maybe she could find other times to tell it to them.

She had to be very careful. Derek was an unexpected change of events and not very pleasant. He was not like her or Peter.

"Yeah, I know," Scott answered. "But chasing her, dragging her to the back of the bus, it felt so real." Scarlett frowned. That was so strange; he remembered, but at the same time, he didn't. Something similar had happened the night before, but it was the driver.

"How real?" Stiles asked.

"Like it actually happened," Scott said, and Scarlett did her best not to draw any attention to herself. She was glad that her heart didn't beat anymore, or it would have been very difficult to explain.

They had arrived at the parking lot entrance, and Scarlett stooped behind the boys as they opened the door. What they saw made them gasp; the back door of the bus was torn open, and blood was everywhere. Scarlett's eyes moved to the puppy as Stiles spoke, "I think it did."

Scott immediately took his phone and went back into the school. Stiles and Scarlett shared a look before they both followed him.

"She is probably fine," Stiles said, trying to calm his friend. Scarlett observed the puppy, if he lost control would have been a mess. But he wasn't the only one who was feeling worry and fear. Her eyes went to Stiles, who was walking in front of her. She knew that those emotions weren't hers; they were his.

This bond thing was actually starting to freak her out. She had never thought that she would have felt like that. She absolutely had to talk to Peter and understand how to keep it under control.

"She's not answering my texts, Stiles!" Scott exclaimed, panicking.

"You know, it could just be a coincidence," Stiles said before looking down, "A seriously amazing coincidence."

"You're not helping," Scarlett said to him.

"Just help me find her, okay?" Scott begged, and Scarlett started to look around, trying to seem as worried as she could, even if she knew perfectly well that the girl was fine. For now, at least.

Scott was completely panicked right now. He would have turned if he had kept going on like this. Scarlett put a hand on Stiles' chest, holding him behind her as Scott turned the corner.

"He's gonna turn?" Stiles asked.

"If he keeps it like this, for sure," Scarlett answered, hearing a loud noise like the one given by a punch on metal. Scott had just destroyed a locker. Then she looked up at Stiles. His brown eyes were wide as he observed his friend, unsure of what to do. Maybe she should have acted a little more worried. Allison was supposed to be her friend.

"Isn’t your dad the sheriff?" Scarlett asked Stiles as they kept following Scott.

"What? Yeah..." he answered from behind her.

"Any emergencies?” she asked, and she observed him think as his fingers tapped the straps of his bag frenatically. "If she had disappeared yesterday night, her parents would have called the police, wouldn't they?" Scarlett said. The Argents would have never slept well without knowing where their daughter was. If he could just stop for a moment and think, maybe he wouldn't have revealed to the entire school who he was.

And in fact, here she was, at the entrance, getting a jump scare from the puppy.

"Ah, thank God," Stiles said, from next to Scarlett.

"Yeah..." she muttered, looking at the two.

He did not remember a thing from the night before. Scarlett knew that werewolves could be weak; they could lose control if they felt too strong emotions, especially if they were puppies. But Scarlett could not believe that he could even forget what he had been doing the night before.

"You've got Harris too?" Stiles' question made her turn to meet his eyes. The color of his eyes was of a strange color, in a good way. But it was the smell of his blood that caught her off guard. She already knew it, but it felt different.

"Yes," she said, taking a step back. "We... we better go."

The two of them decided to leave Scott to talk with Allison, and they made their way to Harris's classroom. Stiles did most of the talking, and Scarlett could not say that she was listening to him. Her eyes would keep lingering on his face, and so would the softness of his skin. She could almost hear his blood in his veins, and she would have gladly bit him, but not for hunger.

What the hell is happening?

"Don't you think?" Stiles' question made her turn to him with a frown. The smile on his face slowly got replaced by an embarrassed one. "I've bored you, haven't I?"

"No," she was quick to answer, "Not at all, I was just... thinking what would have happened if Scott had turned inside the school."

"Yeah," he answered, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. "Glad it didn't happen." It would have been difficult to explain to the entire school. The puppy was lovesick for sure, and Scarlett was not sure he would be of any use against the Argent.

"Are you okay?" She looked up at him when he asked that question. He was not inquisitive, only asking. Almost concerned. She was not used to that kind of gaze.

"Yeah," she said, looking away with a smile, "Yeah, just a tough morning that will only get tougher with Harris."

Stiles chuckled. "Oh, I know," he said, nodding his head. Nobody hates him like me. " Then he seemed to think about it. "And... nobody hates me like he does." That made her laugh, and as she did, Stiles looked at her with a cute, goofy expression, proud of himself for having her giggling.

"Well," she said as her eyes met his, "His loss."

As they entered the classroom, some students, including Harris, were already there. Scarlett frowned in observing the man; he was young, pleasant to look at, but he seemed already pissed at nine A.M. That was not attractive on a man.

There were not three seats at the same table, so Scarlett gave a glance to Stiles. "I guess I'll talk to you later."

He nodded his head quickly, "Yeah, yeah, for sure." Then he started to look around. "I'm gonna sit there," he pointed at a table not far from them. But as he was about to move, he turned to her with wide eyes, "Only if you don't want to sit there! It's not like that is my seat or something, just a seat. And it is in the back. But if you want it."

"Stiles," she stopped him, "You're ranting." Suddenly, a blush appeared on his face. The rush of his blood to his face, the beating of his heart, and the shyness that she was feeling from him had another strange effect on her.

"I'm sitting there," she said, trying to move away from him as quickly as possible. That was not normal. Why was Stiles getting her so distracted?

I have to speak to Peter, she told herself.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked to a girl with long black hair and pale skin. She looked up to her when she heard Scarlett's voice, and she blinked her dark eyes.

"No, you can sit," she said in a faint voice before returning to the sketch she was making in her notebook. That was a strange girl, for sure. Scarlett had already seen her; her name was Irene Woods, and she was considered strange by many people. Lydia always said that she freaked her out. Irene was always alone; she had no friends, and she usually talked to herself and whispered when she talked to others.

The lesson had started, and Scott had made it in time so as to not get detention. But if he wasn't late for class, he surely wasn't keeping a low profile. Not him or Stiles.

"Mr. Stilinski," Harris said in a loud voice, "If that's your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while." Scarlett turned to look at the boys; they had been whispering since when Scott had first taken a seat. "I think you and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?"

"No," Stiles said with wide eyes. But his big eyes did not work on Harris because he made him move and sit anyway. Her eyes followed him like she was feeling drawn to his figure. She was starting to regret her idea, but Peter seemed to love it, so she probably just needed to get used to sharing a bond with Stiles and understand what that meant and how to control it. Sure, she had always found him cute, and she would have gladly eaten him, but this felt different, and it was pissing her off.

"Hey, I think they found something." A girl's sudden voice made them all turn to the windows before some of them rushed to see what was happening outside. Scarlett got up so that she could seem worried like everyone else, even if she knew very well that the cops must have found the body.

"What if he is not dead?" Irene's voice made Scarlett turn her gaze to the girl; she was still sketching and not moving from her position.

"What did you say?" Scarlett asked just before everyone gasped. She decided to leave the girl where she was and made her way to Stiles and Scott.

"This is good. This is good," Stiles said. He got up; he was not dead. Dead guys don't do that." Scarlett had to do all she could to not let her shock appear on her face. What did he mean that the driver was not dead? He should have been. Dead and forgotten.

"Stiles," Scott whispered, "I did that."

********

If you want to be add to the tag list just let me know.

If you liked it, please leave a ♥️ and reblog!

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU // Chapter 1

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski, Original Female Character Pairing: eventual Stiles x OFC, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 4.9k Warnings: canon typical gore/violence, parental death, descriptions of burning, depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author loves lesbian poets and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: Four years ago, Drea Dickinson's entire life fell apart. Her mom died, her best friend replaced her, and all she could do was watch listlessly while everything else burned down around her. All she wants is to forget and maybe get through her sophomore year without flunking chemistry and completely unraveling at the seams—a seemingly impossible task with the sudden appearance of ghosts from her mother's mysterious past and a hair-raising beast ripping people apart all over town. It would be easier to pretend if she hadn't accidentally entwined her life with the most interrogatory bastard in town. She could have gone her whole life without meeting Stiles Stilinski, and she would've been perfectly fine, but now she's stuck knowing that she's made her bed in the fragile, breakable bones of the boy with all the answers. Chapter Summary: After her annual interrogation with Sheriff Stilinski, Drea meets his son who turns out to be very handy with jumper cables, poetry recitation, and incoherent babbling.

A/N: This is an entirely selfish project. This rewrite has been so incredibly nostalgic, and I may or may not have cried a few times because the TW era was such a special time of my life. To be 17 again, sigh. I wrote a very bad version of this in 2014, and I cannot believe it has been 10 years!!! I'm almost 30! Impossible! The 10-year anniversary is entirely coincidental but still a wonderful, serendipitous happenstance. I'm re-watching the entire series with my little sister, who is coincidentally 17, and good god I just miss the TW, TVD era. Bring back the cheesy teen monster shows that give perpetual fall vibes PLEASE. You can also check me out on ao3 (dork_knight)!

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

Some say the world will end in fire. Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire.

Before her mother’s death, Drea would have picked fire. Every single time. 

She never liked the cold; never really had to get used to it growing up in central California—but the crux of her argument, the twisted logic behind it all, was that most burn victims died from suffocation before they felt the flames. A small mercy, really, in the face of unspeakable tragedy. 

In the end, however, statistics were just numbers, her mother didn't die from smoke inhalation, and there was no mercy in burying a parent before you were old enough to have children of your own. Nothing ever ended poetically off the page. Death was just death, and it was always ugly. Someone should really tell that to Robert Frost, Drea mused, biting at a raw hangnail.

The medical examiner said the actual cause of death was pulmonary edema; at least, that was his best guess based on the state of the body. He didn’t say that she felt everything, her skin peeling back into her flesh, her flesh liquefying into fuel, her joints flexing into contorted pleas until the fire incinerated her last nerve ending. He didn’t have to; Drea connected those dots all on her own. She’d been twelve at the time, not an imbecile. 

“I’m sorry to drag you through this all again.”

Drea flitted her eyes away from the flickering lightbulb above Sheriff Stilinski’s head and met his gaze; it was nauseatingly sympathetic. Her responding shrug was a small, little thing—more like a twitch in practice, “Not your fault.” 

Her yearly visits to Sheriff Stilinski’s office were solely her father’s doing, even if no one wanted to admit it to her face. Most mayors would use their political power to get their child out of a police station, not into it, but perhaps Mayor Dickinson stopped being her dad somewhere between the funeral and now. 

“If you could start—”

“From the beginning,” Drea smoothed her thumb in small circles over the armrest of her chair, attentively tracing patterns into the polished wood, “I know.” This was, after all, the fourth anniversary of her first interrogation. She’d become somewhat of an expert at being a useless witness. Drea picked at her uneven cuticles before continuing, “Mom put me to bed around 10:00—which was kind of late for a school night, honestly, but she let me stay up to finish another chapter anyway.” The right corner of her mouth twitched for a brief moment, “Nancy Drew: Password to Larkspur Lane. I told her that forcing someone to go to sleep in the middle of a mystery was specifically forbidden in Geneva Protocol II.” Her mom had been far too indulgent of her lip on most occasions, but that night she didn’t smile at her snarky aside. She let her finish the chapter because she was too tired to argue; Drea could tell. At the time, she saw it as a victory. Now, it kept her up at night, the drooping lines of her mother’s mouth spilling over the pages of whatever book she was trying to read.

Drea bit down on her tongue when a stray splinter snagged against the soft pad of her thumb, “Dad was out of town, so it was just the two of us. Mom always put me to bed when Dad was gone; said it was the only way she could get to sleep. Had to make sure my window was locked.” She paused for a long moment: everything went dark after this. Her mother kissed the top of her head, murmured, ‘Love you,’ turned out the light, and then that was it. Drea woke up in the hospital, and her mom was dead. 

A bead of sweat dripped onto her top lip. The air in the Beacon Hills police station was, without fail, sticky with heat and body odor—and it wasn’t just the oppressive Californian sun. Even in the winter, a person could choke on the stifling warmth. Idly, she wondered if it was a matter of interrogatory tactics or budgetary constraints. 

“And then,” Sheriff Stilinski prompted gently, though they both knew how the story went from here. She had told it to him and a dozen other officials at least a hundred times in the last four years. 

Drea bit down on her thumbnail and winced when her teeth snagged on the tender nail bed, “And then nothing. I opened my eyes, and a nurse said that you found me on the front lawn.” 

“You don’t remember how you got outside?” 

Drea shook her head, staring past the Sheriff's shoulder. Large pieces of dust floated through the air, highlighted by the slivers of light trickling through the blinds. Suddenly, she had a newfound appreciation for the lack of fans in the room. 

Sheriff Stilinski cleared his throat and rubbed his hand over his jaw, “You don’t remember saying it was an angel?”

Blinking slowly, Drea looked at the grim line of the Sheriff’s mouth and gripped her knees tightly, digging her fingers into tawny skin until her wrist cracked, “I should, right? I was twelve. I should remember something—that’s what everyone thinks. That’s what my dad thinks.” Her eyelids fluttered to a tight close, and her voice went so quiet she could barely be heard over the hum of the copier outside the door, “He thinks it was me. That’s why he makes you question me every year.” She pulled the sleeves of her jacket over her fists and gnawed on the soft lining of her cheek, “He thinks you’ll finally figure out how I did it.” 

Drea was scared to open her eyes as the silence stretched between them. They’d danced around the subject before, hinted and twisted around the heart of it, but they’d never truly discussed how it looked from the outside. Sheriff Stilinski had been kind enough to give her a few different excuses over the years: trauma, head injury, oxygen deprivation, plain old grief—but whatever caused her temporary amnesia wasn’t so conveniently explained. In fact, currently, she still had no explanation at all. When she finally peeked through her lashes, clumped together with frustrated tears, Drea couldn’t quite figure out what expression the Sheriff was making. He leaned back in his desk chair and frowned, “I’m sure he doesn’t—”

“He does,” Drea cut him off. Her eyes went flinty, deep brown darkening to something far more ashen with the resolve of her anger. She never had any trouble reading her father’s face; the disgust was thinly-veiled between the flickers of fear. 

Sheriff Stilinksi leaned forward so that she had no choice but to look him in the eyes. They were kind—more tired than usual, but still kind. They always were. That was one thing Drea remembered from that day, waking up in the hospital to Sheriff Stilinski’s kind, watery blue eyes, just before the entire world fell apart. His voice was gentle, but firm, when he finally spoke, “I don’t.” 

Drea nodded numbly and pulled at a fraying string on the hem of her denim skirt until the thread snapped. 

“I mean it, kid. They couldn’t identify the source of the fire. They couldn’t even find an origin point; no twelve-year-old could pull that off.”

Drea chewed on her bottom lip, “Could anyone?”

Sheriff Stilinski’s brow furrowed, and his mouth screwed up into a crooked line, like he was chewing on his words and deciding if he should swallow them or spit them out. “I wish I had all the answers for you. I really do. Not knowing, it’s worse than any truth.”

Drea blinked up at him for a moment, once again taken aback by his raw sincerity, and swallowed hard. He wasn’t the one who was supposed to have the answers; he was the one who was supposed to ask the questions. There was one failure in his muggy office, and it wasn’t the Sheriff. “It’s okay,” she said quietly. “Not your fault.”

He looked like he wanted to argue the point, but whatever he wanted to say was interrupted by the sharp ringing of the phone on his desk. “I have to take this, but if you remember something, or if you just need to talk—”

“My dad spends a small fortune on a psychiatrist and a behavioral therapist for that,” Drea stood up quickly, shouldering her bag. She forced the corners of her mouth into a small smile, tight at the edges like a sheet that had been stretched too thin, “But thank you. For everything.” 

The Sheriff’s gaze darted to a framed photo on his desk. Drea had seen it before, on one of her many visits to his office. It was of a boy—his son, she assumed—he looked like he was around five or six at the time. He was grinning, wide enough to show off his missing incisors, and his fingers and wrist were stained cotton-candy blue from a melting popsicle. She must’ve been that happy once, right? In the beginning, everyone was unencumbered by the weight of imminent mortality. Maybe that’s what Sheriff Stilinski was thinking, too. He looked away from the photo and gave Drea a small smile, “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Drea gave a half-hearted wave before wrapping her fingers around the strap of her backpack and walking to the parking lot. 

The sky was grim, a mocking reflection of expression on her face. The spite in her eyes hardened when big, fat raindrops splattered against the apples of her cheeks. For a moment, she just stood there, glaring at the rain and cursing the cosmos for their utterly unamusing sense of humor. A jeep pulled into the parking lot, and the squealing engine startled her back into reality. 

Unfortunately, the search for her car keys was a considerable endeavor. Typical. Drea stacked her textbooks and binders onto the hood of her sedan, haphazardly throwing her jacket on top of the pile to protect her painstakingly penned Kafka essay from the rain. By the time her fingertips brushed against the cool metal of her keys, her hair was damp and curling at the ends. 

The momentary relief was short-lived when she pressed the unlock button five times and the accompanying beep didn’t sound, not even once. For an absurdly long minute, all she could do was rest her forehead against the driver’s side window, breathing heavily until condensation gathered next to her mouth and the drizzle speckled dots onto the sleeves of her thin cotton shirt.

“If you’re trying to charge the battery through osmosis, it’d probably be more effective to smash your head against the hood.”

Drea jumped, and then flinched again when her keys clattered against the ground. She caught a glimpse of the phantom speaker in the side-view mirror; bizarrely, he looked just as surprised as she felt. She turned around, apprehensively—objects may be closer than they appear n’all—and tried to swallow her rapidly rising heart. 

“Sorry,” the boy pulled the hood of his sweatshirt down and had the decency to look contrite, “big mouth.” He rubbed a hand over his chapped lips. “It’s a real problem. It’s so big, actually, that my foot just slides right in there like…all the time,” he gestured animatedly with a flat hand, a quick sliding motion, like a fish through water.

Drea blinked at him, slowly, and bent down to reach for her keys, “Might wanna see someone about that. Sounds unsanitary.”

“Eh, it’s hardly the worst thing I’ve put in my mouth,” he said, eyes widening into horrified round circles the second he stopped talking. A faint flush creeped up his neck to his ears, and Drea’s heart dropped back into her chest. Slashers and ax murderers didn’t blush. Probably. She hadn’t ever met one, but it seemed like sound logic.

“Choking hazard,” Drea hummed, leaning back against her car. Her fingers traced a small dent in the door, the cause long forgotten, “It’s definitely still a choking hazard.”

The boy grinned before fixing his expression into something on the cusp of severity, “I’m about 95.7% sure that anything bigger than a fist is completely mouth-safe.” He held up his fist and nodded sharply, “Make that 98.3% sure.”

“98.3?” Drea’s brow arched.

“Maybe even 98.9.” 

The buzz of a lamp post hummed above their heads as they stared at each other with little smirks until the quiet made Drea sink her teeth into her bottom lip and big-mouth drum his fingers against his forearm. 

“So,” his sneakers squeaked against the slick asphalt as he shifted his weight, “you need a jump?”

Drea pursed her lips and ran her eyes over the front of her car, “I might give osmosis another shot. 30 seconds is hardly a fair trial.”

“Of course,” he hummed, “you gotta be fair.”

“We are in front of a police station.”

“Well,” he scratched his cheek, “it’s not a courthouse.”

“Technicality.” Drea was slightly horrified when she finally noticed that she was smiling. The sensation felt like it had escaped straight out of the uncanny valley and latched onto her face like a parasite in need of a host. It only took two weeks for muscles to atrophy; years must have completely decimated the fibers in her cheeks. “I guess I could use a jump. If your offer was an offer and not a hypothetical.” 

“Smart choice.” The boy rapped his knuckles against the hood of her car and said, “Steel’s probably pretty low on the permeability scale.”

“As opposed to a skull.”

He snorted and then nodded towards the large lump of books and papers covered by her freshly dampened jean jacket, “You should probably move your stuff. Y’know, ‘cause of the very un-permeable battery.”

“There’s that,” Drea sighed and started stuffing her things back into her backpack, shaking it violently until her notebook finally slid past her chemistry textbook, “and flunking English isn’t high on my list of things to do this weekend.”

His gaze flickered back and forth, rapidly cataloging every corner and crevice of her face. Drea tilted her head, brows pinched, and stared back at him with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. His eyes, she noticed, became a peculiar shade of brown in the yellow glow of the setting sun and the fluorescent light of the lamppost. More like honey, she realized, more like honey than irises. Something finally clicked behind them. "You,” he pointed aggressively, “you go to Beacon Hills.”

Drea pushed his finger away from her face with her own, “Safe bet, considering there’s exactly one option for the next 2,000 square miles.”

“You’re kind of a smartass, you know that,” he muttered as he struggled with the trunk of the jeep parked one space to her right until he finally wrenched it open with an almost guttural grunt.

Her lips parted briefly, and then she grinned drolly. It was refreshing, not being treated like some fragile little creature who would buckle in the knees—or possibly set something on fire—at the slightest confrontation. “Kind of?”

“Total.” He nodded decisively before sticking his head and torso into the depths of his trunk. “Completely, entirely, and wholly a smartass.” There were various clanging sounds until he re-emerged with a pair of jumper cables, “Never noticed that in class. You don’t really…say anything.”

Drea bit back the snark poised on the tip of her tongue. When people looked at her, the only thing they saw was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. She was the daughter of the woman who burned to death on Cedar Street; Drea Dickinson’s mom died, and she was there. It seemed like that was all she would ever be in Beacon Hills. 

In the grand scheme of things, it was better to be no one. 

High school had been her chance to slip into social obscurity—more kids, more drama, less discussion of homicide by arson—so she took it, wholeheartedly. She kept to the corners of classrooms, away from extracurriculars, and her mouth resolutely shut. 

“I try to exclusively bring the smart and leave the ass at home,” Drea finally replied.

The boy’s eyes drifted downwards for a moment, and his voice did a funny, squeaky thing when he said, “I should give that a go sometime.”

“10/10 would recommend. No one bugs you—and teachers never throw erasers at your face.”

“So you do remember me,” he grinned a little and rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt before unlatching the jeep’s hood and propping it open.

Slanting her head, Drea watched his profile. There were moles scattered across his cheek and neck, and his angular jaw clenched as he struggled with the knotted cords in his willowy fingers. “Vaguely,” she said faintly. It was coming back to her in pieces. That was life after twelve for Drea Dickinson: bits and pieces. Everything was made up of the disquieting moments when she surfaced from the haze and into the present. It should’ve felt like a lungful of air, but it didn’t. It always felt like choking. 

He wiped his grease-smudged hand on his jeans and then extended it towards her, “Stiles.”

She took his hand, despite the strange formality, and shook it—mainly because of the black streaks staining his pants. “Drea.”

Stiles’s brow wrinkled, “I thought it was Andy.”

Drea hadn’t been Andy for what felt like a very long time. Four years, in fact. There were several reasons: her mom called her Andy, and she wanted to become someone else, anybody else—but ultimately the deciding factor was ‘Andy Arson.’ The nickname stuck around far longer than she thought it would. With a last name like Dickinson, Drea really thought the tweenager taunting would go in a different direction, but thirteen-year-olds had a knack for latching onto a person’s deepest-seated insecurities. Middle school, she mused, was a tragedy all on its own. 

“Nope. Just Drea.”

Stiles examined her face, and she saw that flicker in his eyes again: the light of recognition. “Well, Drea’s cool, y’know, in comparison.” His fingers twitched a few times when he connected the clamp to the coordinating battery terminal, and Drea’s eyes widened. She held her breath in her sternum until she registered that he hadn’t been electrocuted. He was just naturally tweaky, she concluded. It was either that, or he had jumped one-too-many engines in the last 24 hours…unless it was hidden option C, and he was actually tweaking. Unlikely, given he was on his way into a building teeming with cops, but far stranger things had happened in Beacon Hills. 

The longer she remained silent the more parts of his body started to move. Stile squeezed and unsqueezed the black clamp in his hand and drummed on the side of her car with his unoccupied fingers, “Like, Andy—no offense—doesn’t exactly strike fear or confidence in the heart. I mean, I wouldn’t trust Officer Andy to save my ass in a shoot-out, and I definitely wouldn’t trust Dr. Andy to cure my unknown, incredibly rare, incurable disease.” 

“No one could cure your incurable disease. That’s quite literally the entire definition of the word.”

“Sure,” Stiles connected the last clamp and glanced at her over his shoulder, almost checking himself in the chin with a large shrug, “but I’d buy that Dr. Drea could.”

Her mouth parted for a second, and then she closed it before she could say something impulsive. “That’s not even how it works; I’d be Dr. Dickinson.” 

Stiles winced, “Brutal.”

“Yeah,” Drea sighed and rubbed her palms over her arms until the goosebumps prickling her biceps receded into her skin.

Stiles looked back at her again, and his mouth wormed its way into a little frown. His head disappeared into his trunk, and after a moment a lumpy maroon mass hurtled towards her face. She caught it before it could smack into her nose, and she clutched at the soft material until she realized that the projectile missile was actually just a sweatshirt. 

Stiles was staring at her when she looked up from her hands. A small, unsure…something squirmed over his face, and she felt a little stupid, just standing there, hoodie limp in her arms. It happened a lot—more than it should after so many years. The invisible quicksand materialized in the strangest, most insignificant moments. Drea blinked, completely brainless, at simple questions, stared aimlessly into her closet until her second alarm startled her into snatching the first shirt her fingers came in contact with—clasped at a stranger’s hoodie until the rainwater pooled on her lashes dripped into her eyes.

Robotically, Drea thrust her arms through the sleeves and tugged it over her head, “Thanks.” The sweet scent of grass clung to the fabric, and there was something earthier underneath it, something like evergreen. She smiled slightly, combing her baby hairs behind her ears, “I almost forgive you for being a dick about my name.”

Stiles’s shoulders unwound as he scoffed, “At least people can say it without seizing.”

Drea looked at him and tilted her head, eyebrows crawling towards the bridge of her nose.

Stiles waved his hand in the air and extrapolated, “My full name is—just trust me. Dick jokes aren’t the worst thing in the world.”

“No,” Drea chewed on her lip, “they aren’t.”

There was a moment in middle school where she was tempted to plant the seed of something incredibly stupid and irresistibly raunchy, something like, ‘Andrea wants ‘Dickinsideher,’ because even that was better than a name with matricide as the punchline. But it didn’t take when Jared Cartwright soft-launched it in PE, so Drea seriously doubted it would ever catch-on from the target herself.

She cleared her throat, “But they are almost as bad as stye jokes.”

“Uh, absolutely not. Eyesores are nowhere near as gross as dick’n nu—” Stiles coughed, throat bobbing as he swallowed, before finishing his sentence with an audible question mark, “…phallic imagery.”

Drea pursed her lips, “Pus beats penis on the ick meter by at least 23 points.”

Stiles’s eyes glimmered in the fading light, “23?”

“Maybe even 24.”

Another bout of silence fell between them, but it wasn’t so restless this time—even after Stiles torpedoed his body through his passenger seat. He fought with his keys for a while until the correct one slid into the ignition. 

The jeep’s engine hummed pleasantly in the quiet as Drea let out a soft sigh, dropping her head back against her car window. The rain had stopped somewhere between trying to unlock her car and now, but she couldn’t quite recall when. The chill wasn’t so bad, she realized, without her foul mood casting a shadow over her head.

Stiles landed back on his feet and leaned against the jeep. Drea could feel his gaze on her again. A tickling sensation trailed down her spine as she fiddled with her keychain. It was old, a gift from her parents on some birthday she couldn’t remember. Paint had chipped off in most places after thoughtlessly throwing her keys every time she came home, but she could still make out the M and Y of the orange ‘Mystery Machine’ logo.

Stiles hummed for a moment and then said, “I’m Nobody. Who are you?”

Drea stared at him and waited for the punchline. It didn’t come. Instead, he shifted from one foot to the other and fumbled over each following syllable. “You know, like…Dickinson,” he waved his hands around, seemingly searching for some sort of cosmic relief. “I thought it would better than a dick joke, but upon some seriously belated reflection, I realize that you’re probably tired of corny assholes qu—”

“How dreary,” Drea interrupted, quietly but loud enough to be heard over the rumbling jeep, “to be Somebody.”

Stiles’s jaw snapped shut; it was his turn to blink at her stupidly. He smiled a little and ran his hand over his buzzed head, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t know what she was agreeing with, only that she wholeheartedly did.

“I forgot that part.”

Drea clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and shook her head, “It’s the best line.”

“It might have something to do with my species landing somewhere between microscopic bacteria and radioactive cockroach on the high-school social food chain,” Stiles said dryly. His face remained impassive, like he was talking about something benign as the weather. 

Drea tilted her head a little and a timid smile unfurled over her face in time with the swell of familiarity blooming beneath her ribcage, “Then there’s a pair of us.”

His cheeks dimpled when he smiled back at her, “I do remember that one.”

“Well,” Drea slid her hands into her back pockets and shrugged, “it is the best part.”

Stiles squinted at her and then laughed.

Drea felt a bit like laughing too, so she swallowed thickly before she could choke on the impulse. She took a step backwards and curled her fingers around her keys in her back pocket, “I should probably try start my car…y’know, before you start reciting, ‘I Felt a Funeral, in My Brain.’”

He nodded, taking a step towards his jeep, “Solid plan. ‘Because I could not stop for Death’ would be next.”

Drea slid into her car and stared at the steering wheel, wrapping her fingers around 10 and 2 and silently calling upon every deity she’d ever heard of to end her suffering. Stiles seemed nice enough, but she seriously doubted her smalltalk capabilities were up-to ‘ride home’ standards. Perhaps, she should revisit her resounding dedication to atheism, she thought, as the engine sputtered in protest a few times and then came back to life. 

Stiles flashed two thumbs up through the window. The smile on his face was positively goofy, but his dismount from the jeep was somehow even goofier. He stumbled over his large feet a few times before regaining stability. Drea bit back a smile when he shot her another thumbs up, this time through the dash as he removed the jumper cables from her battery.

He wiped his hands off on his jeans again; at this point, she was convinced that they were beyond saving, but Stiles didn’t seem concerned. He tapped against her window before stepping around the open door, “You should probably let it run for a while. Take the scenic route home; enjoy all the Beacon Hills hotspots open past 8:00 pm on a weeknight. I personally recommend the Rite Aid or Walmart.”

Drea snorted, “Maybe I’ll swing by the Preserve. I hear the woods are especially beautiful in the foreboding darkness.”

“Don’t.” Serious was an odd look on Stiles’s face. Drea decided that she much preferred the goofy grin. “Don’t go anywhere near the Preserve. It’s officially cordoned off—totally locked down, quarantine-zone-central. Something about flesh-eating, parasitic plant life.”

“As completely real and unobtrusive as that sounds,” Drea drawled, “don’t worry about it. Literally every single person in town knows about the body they found in the woods.” It was bound to happen, small town and all—and ‘woman dies in deadly animal attack’ was the most interesting thing that had happened in Beacon Hills since the intersection got a Target two years ago. “I’ve seen every installment of Friday the 13th and The Blair Witch Project. If I’m going to be murdered, I refuse to also be humiliated by a cliché C.O.D.” 

The manic expression on his face softened to a relieved smile and then again to a little smirk, “So what’s a certified fresh murder, then? Not that I doubt the depths of human depravity, but I think society killed off originality a few centuries ago.”

Drea thought back to a house fire with no origin, accelerant, or discernible cause. Apparently, not. “You know what they say,” she sighed, “life finds a way.”

Stiles tilted his head, “And death.”

“And death,” Drea agreed, staring at a small chip in her windshield. The cracks had just begun to spiderweb out from the pit. 

Stiles looked like he wanted to say something, and he looked so much like the Sheriff with his face twisted around thoughtful contemplation that she couldn’t believe it had taken her this long to make the connection. The boy in the photo had grown up. How unfortunate for him. Stiles swallowed whatever it was that was lingering on his tongue and shut Drea’s door. He leaned his elbow against the window frame and cocked his hand in a stiff little wave, “See ya in English, Dickinson—both of you.”

“Awful,” Drea’s nose scrunched as she buckled her seatbelt, “terrible, dreadful. A solid 25 on the ick meter.”

Stiles grinned and held up his hands, “I’ll think of something better by Monday, promise.” 

Drea put her car in drive once Stiles was safely a few feet from the wheels and flicked her damp hair over her shoulder, “I dwell in Possibility.” What a scary place to be, she thought as she watched Stiles disappear in her rearview mirror. Possibility. Hope. Life. She was chronically good at surviving; cockroached her way out of every horrible thing life squashed her with. Lately, all she could do was cling to her heartbeat and the warmth of her skin, until she was barely more than roadkill. A walking carcass was a far cry from living, but Death would not stop for her, so she stopped looking for him. She kept treading water, took her pills, stopped existing—she was a lot like Schrödinger’s cat that way: too stubborn to live, too stubborn to die. She didn’t know what to do if someone unsealed the box and forced her to choose. That was the trouble with possibility; it required far too much uncertainty.

[sexualtensiongrowing21]

Fur, Fangs, and Forbidden Feelings // Stiles Stilinski x OFC McCall.

Archer McCall is the fraternal twin sister of Scott McCall and secretly in love with their best friend Stiles Stilinski.

If you love Stiles Stilinski being obvious and helplessly in love. This is for you!

I am so excited for this fic as I have searched for a Stiles fanfiction that has all my favorite tropes and cannot find one that isn’t abandoned.

This has brothers bestfriends, childhood bestfriend, slow burn and miscommunication. It will eventually have smut and is absolutely 18+ as it has adult themes and humor.

If you’re a fan of my writings so far, or just looking for another fanfiction to add to your ever growing list of fanfictions to read, I would say this a good one to add. Season one is completed and season two is half way done!

You can read it on my ao3

or my Wattpad

[edensstupidacc]

what are your favourite stiles fics? from any app or site??

(not limited to reader or fmc, all is welcome)

[fionajames]

promise ill start writing again soon y'all

she says as they shamelessly drop the link to their new teen wolf fic please read it im beggin u: here

@skellymom, @techs-goggles9902, @transmascanakin, @multi-purpose-paperclip, @youeverjustmarryabountyhunter

[self-conscious-author]

Coup de Foudre - Chapter One - Running With The Wolves

Beacon Hills Animal Hospital

It’s on a quiet Saturday afternoon that the McCall pack finds themselves in the back of the clinic. The weather is pleasantly warm, and the day seems to be going peacefully so far. But that can change very quickly in Beacon Hills.

They wait patiently as Deaton finishes with his last patient, a sweet old yorkie belonging to an equally sweet old lady.

”Alright,” Deaton says after locking the door behind them. “Now that we’re all here, I have something very important to tell you.”

That sentence alone has all of their attention. Is there already a new threat to handle? They’re already dealing with the after effects of the Nemeton, which, if the new girl Kira is right, ends with death. Not exactly a happy thought.

Deaton notices them all tense and smiles reassuringly. “It’s nothing bad, I promise. A friend of mine should be arriving in town tonight and I thought, given her background, you should all be introduced.”

“Background?” Scott crosses his arms. “Is she a werewolf?” 

“No-“

“Is she evil?”

Allison rolls her eyes with a grin. “She wouldn’t be his friend if she was evil, Stiles.”

“Well, maybe she’s really good at hiding it, we can’t forget Miss Darach lady. She had everybody fooled. Especially him.” Derek levels him with an unamused glare when he lifts his arm out towards him.

Deaton raises an eyebrow before continuing while walking towards his bookshelf. “I’ve known her all her life, trust me she’s one of the good ones.”

“Well, what is she?”

He places a large, old book down on the table facing them. The dark brown leather is well-worn, showing the extent of its use. “She’s-“

“Hang on-“ Stiles interrupts, staring hard at the book now in front of him with squinted eyes. “You have a bestiary?”

“Of course, I have a bestiary.”

“So, we could’ve just-“

They all think back to when they were trying to sneak Gerard’s away from him, and sigh in defeat, with Stiles dragging his hand down his face.

Deaton huffs out a laugh before turning to a specific page and continuing. “She’s a Witcher.”

“A what?”

“Most Witchers hunt other supernatural creatures-“

Everyone tenses again while Derek crosses his arms. “How is that good?”

“Most Witchers.” He emphasizes with a look. “She, and her parents, on the other hand, protects them. Your mothers were actually close friends, Derek. The three of us discussed different matters on several occasions, and they only ever disagreed one time.” He points at the picture depicting a white haired man and woman with what looks to be glowing tattoos. The man holds a large sword in his grasp. “Here.”

“Woah.” Stiles whispers, leaning closer. “Witchers can quickly learn any known language upon first hearing it. They have superhuman agility, accelerated healing, enhanced supernatural strength, speed, hearing, and smell.. All to better catch their prey.” He clears his throat uncomfortably and shares a look with Scott. “Woah.”

“So, they’re kind of like a werewolf, you know, besides default google translate.” Isaac furrows his brows.

Deaton nods. “In Medieval times, a Witcher would travel around the world being paid to kill, hence the languages.”

Lydia makes a noise, motioning back to the book with her finger. “Wait, what’s with the glowing tattoos?”

“The ways to spot a Witcher are their silvery white hair and their glowing markings. Besides that they look completely normal, just like a werewolf,” He nods to Scott, Isaac, and Derek, and then Lydia. “or a banshee. A new mark appears on their skin every time they kill, or in Eira’s case, every time she saves someone, bringing them into her pack.”

”A Witcher’s markings glow on command or when in the presence of their mate.” Stiles reads, absorbed in the book in front of him. A Witcher’s eyes and markings can appear different colors depending on the situation the Witcher is in. When angry or asserting their dominance, much like an Alpha werewolf, the glow is red. When in pain or afraid, it is yellow.

“Like a werewolf mate?” Derek questions, receiving a nod in return.

“It’s similar,” Deaton says. “but a Witcher’s mate gains abilities similar to their own. They can also locate each other once bonded, even if they’re on opposite sides of the world.”

Witchers are unaffected by kanima venom and most poisons and diseases, as well as the bite of a werewolf. They are believed to have been created by witches, made to eradicate the more foul of supernatural beings which they themselves were not equipped to deal with.

While those who know of their existence may have need of them, many fear them due to the sheer magnitude of their power.

“Why doesn’t she hunt us like she’s supposed to?”

“That’s for her to tell you, Scott. Not me.”

He nods in understanding, quietly thinking for a moment. She definitely seems like someone they’d want on their side. And if Deaton trusts her, and Derek’s mother was friends with her mother- “Is it just her?”

“She has a pack, of how many I’m not sure. Last time I saw her there were six, including herself, but she could have saved more since then.”

“Well, I want to meet her.” Stiles looks up, and shrugs when he notices all eyes are on him. “What? It’s cool!”

Scott shakes his head with a smile. “Alright. We’ll all come back later tonight. Deaton, will you take us to her?”

〰️

Once the sun sets, the previously empty parking lot of the clinic fills with three cars, before emptying once more as they drive towards the preserve. Because apparently it isn’t only Derek that likes hiding in there, as Stiles points out, earning him another unamused stare from the sourwolf himself. Only Scott hears his grumbled, “I have an apartment now.”

They finally arrive at what appears to be a large log cabin and clamber out of their vehicles. “Okay, how have we never stumbled upon this?” Stiles swings his arms out towards the building.

Scott shrugs his shoulders with a shake of his head, having absolutely no idea, before following behind Derek and Deaton.

“I called ahead so she knows we’re coming, but I should still do the talking. They’re all very protective of each other.” They all nod in understanding, they’re protective as well, especially after what just happened to Erica and Boyd.

“This place is really nice.” Lydia whispers to Allison as they walk through the front door, with her nodding in agreement. It’s not massive, but it’s big enough to show there are clearly many people who live here. It’s neat, but not spotless. Already it feels lived in and warm. There are a few toys in the large open living room, telling them there is at least one child among them.

As they get closer to the back door they begin to hear the beat of a drum, as well as singing. But Deaton doesn’t seem surprised as he opens the door, revealing a fire with eleven people surrounding it.

What appears to be a married couple are dancing next to a grill with their daughter clapping to the beat from her place on the grass, a young boy sits next to her clapping and smiling as well. Sitting on the far side of the fire next to them, a red headed boy around their age appears to be trying to make a stern looking woman laugh; if one looked close enough they could see the corner of her lip tilting up slightly.

A large tattooed man with blond hair sits by the fire nearest them playing a set of four drums with his hands, with a curly blond haired boy no older than two standing in front of him, completely enthralled.

Sitting across from him is a boy and girl that look to be their age as well, watching a beautiful woman with silvery white hair sing, joining in occasionally themselves.

They’re all surprised to find the mysterious Witcher looks to be only a year or two older than themselves.

The short woman is sitting beside the man at the drums, singing in Icelandic, as Deaton quietly tells them, and smiling when the young blond boy gazes up at her.

She has a braid on either side of her head holding her hair out of her face, and is wearing an orange-ish brown dress that ends just above her knees, showing them that her arms and what they can see of her back are indeed covered in tattoos.

“She’s gorgeous.” Stiles’ awe filled whisper draws the attention of his best friend, only for a shock to run through him at the sight of his eyes glowing a bright white.

“Whoa, Stiles, what’s going on with your eyes?” 

They all whip around to stare at him, completely forgetting about where they’re standing and who could possibly hear them.

“Wha-what are you talking about?”

“They’re glowing.” Isaac whisper yells.

“What!?” He frantically rubs his eyes then looks back at his best friend hopefully.

“Nope, definitely still glowing!” 

“What the fu-“

“Could it just be something from the Nemeton?” Lydia asks, only for Allison to shake her head.

“I don’t remember my eyes glowing white recently.”

“No, you just hallucinated.”

Due to their attention being on the phenomenon of Stiles and his glowing eyes, none but Deaton notice that while the drums and masculine singing is still going, its feminine counterpart has stopped.

That is, until they hear a warm accented voice greet Deaton. “Velkominn vinur (welcome friend), it’s been too long.” 

“It’s good to see you, Eira.” The doctor and Witcher hug tightly for a moment before separating. “These are the people I told you about. Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Isaac Lahey, Stiles Stilinski, and Derek Hale. Everyone, this is Eira Einarsdóttir.”

They all wave while Stiles gazes wide eyed until Lydia bumps him. His eyes finally stopped glowing once the Viking woman approached.

Now that she’s closer they can see she’s barefoot and has several silver piercings on each ear, and her eyes are a striking crystalline blue color. And when she smiles in greeting she reveals a set of sharp canines.

“Hale?” Derek nods. “I heard what happened, with the fire. My mother often spoke very highly of yours when I was a child. You have my sympathies, and hers.”

“Thank you.” It’s safe to say the teenagers are a little surprised, having never heard Derek thank anyone, ever.

“You came at the perfect time, my friend. Let me introduce you to everyone.” She smiles again, and if you asked Stiles he would swear his heart stopped beating, before turning so she’s facing more towards her pack. “This is Amy and Seán.” The teens, having heard their alpha, turn and wave at the newcomers.

Well, Seán waves, his dark eyes zeroing in on Lydia, Amy shyly lifts her fingers which causes Allison and Scott to smile.

Eira then points to the stern noirette and cheerful ginger. “Heather and Anthony,” The family of three and the young boy. “Laureli, Arthur and their daughter Clove, and Amy’s brother Oliver. My brother Bjørn on the drums.” The little blond comes running into her legs causing her to laugh before she picks him up and holds him close, brushing a stray curl out of his eyes. “And this is Ragnar, my son.”

That throws the pack for a loop.

Ragnar gazes wide-eyed at them all with the same piercing blue orbs as his mother. “Can you say hello, litli úlfur?” (little wolf) He doesn’t speak, but waves his little hand happily, causing the girls to quietly ‘aww’.

His mother places a tender kiss on his forehead before leading them all closer to the fire and her family. Now that Bjørn is standing, they can see he’s Derek’s size. “Deaton, it’s good to see you again.” And wow is his voice deep.

The two grasp arms. “How are you, Bjørn?” Deaton introduces everyone again and the large man responds with nods and handshakes.

Stiles finds himself standing next to Eira, somehow simultaneously jittery due to being so close to her while also feeling a warm sense of calm. It’s then that the small werewolf in her arms suddenly reaches for him, causing his eyes to go wide. “Oh- wow okay, hi.”

Eira gently deposits her son into Stiles’ arms, smiling as she watches Ragnar show him his little silver wolf medallion, causing him to quietly mumble something to him.

She directs her inviting smile to everyone once more. “Please, sit. Join us. I believe Arthur is finished with the food.”

Everyone from both packs proceeds to place themselves on the benches around the fire, after Eira introduces them, again. Heather gives everyone a hard stare, which they don’t take to heart, understanding the woman’s caution. Anthony waves at them all with a mouthful of his burger as he sits back down next to his stern counterpart, resuming his attempts to pull a laugh from her.

Clove hands Allison and Lydia each a daisy, before promptly running behind her mother’s legs, while Oliver simply waves at everyone from the ground. Laureli’s soft motherly voice guides them all towards her husband, where he ensures they all take something to eat.

Seán guides a very shy Amy over to talk to the girls, with the three of them perching on their bench, while he and the boys discuss lacrosse.

With everyone sitting down to eat, no one notices Stiles only just now placing little Ragnar at his feet for him to wander over to Clove and Oliver. Where he proceeds to plop down on the ground to eat hotdogs Laureli places in front of them.

“I can only smell a few werewolves.” Scott finally points out with Seán nodding in response.

“Me, Heather, Anthony and Ragnar.”

Eira, having heard her son’s name, ruffles his curls before sitting next to Stiles. “Bjørn is a werebear, so he’ll smell a little different.”

Sounds terrifying.

“Amy and Oliver are naiads, water spirits, while Laureli and Clove are dryads, forest spirits.”

The whole McCall pack listens closely, these being new creatures they haven’t heard of yet. “Arthur is actually a human from a family of hunters.”

Allison smiles at the mention of another hunter family protecting instead of hurting. It’s reassuring to know not everyone is like her grandfather, or her aunt.

“So, you saved all of them?” Derek chimes in from the other side of Bjørn.

“Most, not all.” She pauses to watch her family. “Bjørn was the first, he didn’t need saving,” They both quietly chuckle. “he never has. He actually found me.” Her eyes seem to dull and sadden, as if remembering something painful before brightening when her brother places his hand on her back. “Then we found Seán,”

“Oh boy, here we go.” He mumbles.

“He was playing the piano in a pub in Galway trying to impress a lovely young lady. It was absolutely beautiful- what was it again?”

“Uh.. it was Liszt.”

“Will you play some later?” He nods, making her smile before going back to the introductions. “After him we found Arthur, Clove and Laureli. They didn’t need saving either, but when I offered them a place among us they accepted.”

She smiles over at the happy little family. “Then it was Heather,” She doesn’t go into detail, knowing the she-wolf would rather her story be kept secret from strangers. “-then Heather actually found Anthony.”

They look over to see the redhead smiling proudly, having finally gotten Heather to smile. “She brought to our attention a young boy being abused by his human stepfather because he thought he was a monster.. Looking at him now, you would never guess the horrors he’s been through.” Derek grins softly across the space at Isaac.

“And Amy and Oliver..” She receives a nod from Amy and finishes. “were hiding in a crawlspace in their home from hunters, with their parents slaughtered in the next room.”

Her marks and eyes take on a faint red glow, remembering how she buried Amy’s face in her neck while Arthur enveloped little Ollie into his chest so neither had to see the carnage.

No one notices Stiles’ eyes also gaining a red hue. Until Amy smiles softly at her savior, bringing her back to the present and removing the glow from them both.

Now that he’s closer to her, Stiles trails his eyes along the side of her face, taking in every detail. He can’t help but feel like he’s seen her before.. In a dream maybe..

〰️

Everyone is relaxing and trading stories after finishing eating, with Bjørn mindlessly tapping his drums in front of him until it becomes steadier as Ragnar settles into his mother’s lap.

Eira begins to softly sing to her son as her body sways to the music. She leans her head against his own, watching him turn his medallion over in his hands.

Go run and hold to safer grounds

But don't you know we're stronger now

My heart still beats and my skin still feels

My lungs still breathe and my mind still fears

She smooths her hand along his curls before pulling him closer to her, settling his head against her chest.

But we're running out of time

All the echoes in my mind cry

There's blood on your lies

And the sky's open wide

There is nowhere for you to hide

The hunter's moon is shining

Stiles watches as she gently bounces her son on her lap, pulling a little smile from him, and silently decides her voice is his new favorite sound. He leans forward, placing his chin in his hand as his foot begins to tap along with the music.

I'm running with the wolves tonight

I'm running with the wolves

I'm running with the wolves tonight

I'm running with the wolves

I'm running with the

Stiles watches in fascination as the marks on her body begin to glow a soft pink color, beginning at her wrist where Ragnar traces his little fingers along a swirl, flowing up her arms and disappearing behind her back.

Before Stiles knows it the song is over, and his eyes are fading back to their rich brown.

〰️ 〰️ 〰️ 〰️ 〰️ 〰️ 〰️ 〰️ 〰️ 〰️ 〰️ 〰️ 〰️ 〰️

So, I’m finally rewriting this and thought I’d post it here as well as on Quotev and Ao3, incase there’s anyone on here who wants to read it 🤷🏻‍♀️

-No part of this story may be copied or reposted to any site for any reason without my consent-

[thewildsideseries]

Chapter 40 - [ AO3 | FFN ]

“Sadie?” Stiles asked warily. “What…?” The moment I reached for his bloody pantleg, Stiles pushed my hands away. I tried again, but he flinched back, grabbing my wrists so I couldn’t continue. I looked up at him in confusion, but the broken, guilty look in his eye told me all I needed to know. “Sadie, don’t—” I ripped my hands out of his grasp and pushed his shorts up. There were two slashes in the skin of his thigh, bloody but no longer bleeding. They weren’t deep, not enough to prevent him from walking, but deep enough to scar if he didn’t get the right treatment. The severity of the cut didn’t worry me. That wasn’t the reason that my jaw dropped in horror, or that tears sprang into my eyes. The two cuts were crisscrossed, forming a large X. Stiles grabbed my hands again, stopping me from investigating any further, but it was too late. I didn’t need my hands to see the dark stain on his jersey, the trace of blood that was staining the twenty-four from the inside. He had a cut there, too, probably the same shape. One in the leg. One in the shoulder. “Sadie, hey.” Stiles slid his hands up my arms, trying to force me to look at him. “Sadie, it doesn’t matter, okay? I’m right here. I’m fine.” “They know. He—he took you, and he did this—he knows—” “Sadie, look at me. It doesn’t matter, okay? They let me go—” “Because of me! He did this to you because of me and because he knows and because he wants me to be scared and he wants me next and you’re hurt and it’s my fault and—” Stiles leapt from his seat, crushing me into a hug as the world began to spiral. He was bleeding, and he was hurt, and it was my fault. I had shot Kate, and she’d died, and it was my fault. Derek had bitten Victoria, and she’d killed herself, and it was my fault. I’d lied to Allison, and she’d told Gerard, and he’d tortured Stiles, and it was my fault. It was my fault, my fault, my fault…

[mxltifxnd0m]

SHAMELESS PROMO TIME BC I HAVEN'T DONE IT YET

go check out my wattpad for oc x character stuff if you're into that kind of stuff

i have 2 books up and 1 planned and being written

they're all crossovers with SPN (shut up its my new hyperfixation and I can't control myself LMAO)

In Progress:

Free Falling - Teen Wolf x Supernatural, Stiles x Olympia (sister winchester oc!)

Young Blood - PJO x Supernatural, Percy x Mavis (sister winchester oc!)

Planned (soon to be posted):

Animal - Teen Wolf x Supernatural, Isaac x Cynna (sister winchester oc!)

i would appreciate if you guys checked them out!!

[strangerstilinski]

✶ 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒 ✶

Teen Wolf Rewrite Masterlist

Stiles Stilinski x Original Female Character

s e a s o n o n e

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; after an already traumatic evening involving the unfortunate discovery of a gruesome scene, amber is convinced to hike through the woods with her two best friends in search of the other half of a dead body. but it's not as if she could ever say no.. not when stiles looked at her like that.

~ 155,000 words

Slowburn, Friends To Lovers, Mutual Pining

Violence, Language, Underage Drinking, Some Sexual Content ✩

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three ✩

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

chapter eight

chapter nine

chapter ten

chapter eleven

chapter twelve

chapter thirteen

s e a s o n t w o (ongoing)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; as if the last month and a half hadn't been stressful enough — now there were a few more werewolves, a kanima, and a seriously disturbed old man added into the mix. but amber, stiles, and scott could totally handle this. it would be fine. everything was great.

Violence, Language, Underage Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content ✩

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three ✩

chapter four

chapter five ✩

chapter six

chapter seven ✩

chapter eight (complete - editing in progress - available on ao3)

chapter nine (complete - editing soon - available on ao3)

chapter ten (in progress)

chapter eleven (tba)

chapter twelve (tba)

𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭

stiles & amber's ideal date

𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬

is lydia bi?

where can i read chapters 8 & 9?

[soulofapatrick]

Scent Mark Me - Stiles Stilinski (NSFW)

Summary: You and Stiles have time to release pent up hormones before the rest of the pack get home 

Words: 1.3K

Warnings: smut; bulge kink; little bit of breeding kink; slight sub/dom

Y/N’s POV

I gasp when Stiles shoves me into the wall, lips biting into that weak spot on my neck. I am so on board with this as Stiles' clumsy hands unbuckle my jeans, shoving them to the floor,along with my boxers, to let me kick them off while he practically rips my shirt open. I go to pull that off too but he stops me, cognac eyes so dark they look black as his voice comes out rough, "No, leave it on."

I hum in agreement, sliding to my knees while he throws his teeshirt aside. His watches as I undo his jeans, pushing them down with a groan when I realise he's gone commando. His long fingers tangle in my hair, groaning around the two fingers I force past his lips when I swallow as much of him as I can in one go. A growl slips from my throat when he tugs in my hair, the smell of his arousal filling my every sense and making me impatient.

With a sound of protest from Stiles I pull my fingers from his lips, only for him to groan when he watches me to begin to ride those exact fingers. Trying to prep myself quickly because although I wish we could take our time we can't, the rest of the pack will be back soon and I really don't need the 'safe-sex-between-a-human-and-a-werewolf' from Derek speech.

As if understanding the urgency Stiles pulls me back to my feet, "Up." He grins challengingly, knowing I don't like being treated like a dog but that challenge is such a turn on, especially the fresh wave of arousal that washes off of him. I quickly wrap my legs around his waist and sink down five of the nine inches he's packing at this angle. Stiles curses, hands gripping my hips as his heated gaze meets mine, silently asking if he can. I nod and as soon as he gets the go ahead he's pulling back and thrusting up while pulling me down, causing me to cry out in surprise and pure lust because I didn't expect Stiles to be able to hold me up let alone move me his way.

He presses my back to the wall, bracing his hands either side of my head before thrusting again and I cry out in surprise as the other four inches slip in, making me feel fuller than I've ever felt before, "Fuck baby boy." A hand ghosts over my stomach and I whine when it stops over the spot where my stomach is bulging from his length, "Taking it all." He praises to which I preen at, watching as he pushes me against the wall by the shoulders, him watching the slide of his long length against my stomach every time he thrusts up.

I take this position until he starts to brush my prostate but not quite hitting it right. It forces a frustrated growl from my throat as I grab Stiles by his hair and yank him into a hot and dirty kiss that has him burying to the hilt and slamming into my prostrate properly, the kiss turning to us panting into each other's mouths as he slams into me, before his lips trail down my neck to try and leave a hickey on my neck as he read somewhere that it is possible to make it permanent.

"Shit!" I cry out, throwing my head back as Stiles slams into me especially hard, hitting that sweet spot head on, "Don't stop." I whine, scrabbling my hands down his back as his teeth scrape down my exposed neck, sucking a hickey just below my jaw. I tighten my legs around his hips to pull him closer, causing him to thrust deeper than I thought possible and he groans with his breath hot against the fresh hickey he's left.

I hear the door open and try to tell Stiles the others are back but his thrusts speed up, making me let out a strangled moan and his name. Stifling them by biting his shoulder, knowing the pain of my fangs is a small kink of his.

"Almost there baby," He groans into my neck and I whine in agreement, a sound leaving my throat when he reaches a hand between us to jack me off in time with his erratic thrusts, "C'mon Y/N, come for me." He pants, thumb ghosting the slit.

One more thrust and tug pushes me over the edge. I can't help but throw my head back again, arching my back and crying out loud enough for the wolves downstairs to get the gist of what's happening up here. I paint my chest and some of my chin as Stiles thrusts sloppily a few more times before he comes with a shudder and my name breathed into my neck. His hands bracing himself against the wall and legs shaking as he pants into the crook of my neck.

"They're home." I mumble, stealing a kiss before sucking a few more hickeys along his pale skin. He hums, letting me down and going to wipe my cum off of me but the wolf in me grabs his wrist with a growl.

"Watch." He murmurs soothingly so I let his wrist go, a mewl escaping my lips when he swipes it up on two fingers before spreading it across his torso, knowing what that does the to wolf inside me. The rest he licks from his fingers before stepping away so we can get redressed. I stay leaning against the wall, eyes slipping shut as I feel Stiles load begin to slide down the inside of my thigh and if I'm being honest it turns me on.

I jump when Stiles' fingers collect his come to spread across my chest as it's a sign of possession - your mate smelling of you. It makes me weak at the knees, so much so Stiles has to clean me up and helps me get my boxers and jeans back on before he whispers, "I guess we go face the music now."

I nod, stealing a soft kiss from his plump lips before following him down the stairs as I do the last few buttons on my shirt up so they don't see the come still on my chest. I'll get rid of it when it starts to dry and flake.

"Well sounds like you two had fun." Erica teases as soon as we join them in the living room.

Derek sniffs the air and adds with his usual glare but amplified by hundred, "A little too much fun."

"Come on Y/N, let's go get some coffee." Lydia suggests and the rest of the girls quickly agree. I sigh, glancing at Stiles to see if he'll be okay with the boys - especially Derek and Scott who don't seem entirely comfortable with us at the moment. Probably because they haven't had the talk with us.

"Go have fun." Stiles assures me, grabbing the front of my shirt and yanking me into a kiss before licking up the underside of my chin, pushing me away in time to see the blur of white on his tongue. It makes me mewl because he just ate my come in front of the whole pack and I just wanna pin him to the wall and fuck him senseless right now.

"Out," Derek grabs my shoulder, "You're going into heat and I need to talk to Stiles about it."

I possessively growl at the alpha but before he can react Malia and Allison are manhandling me out of the house, Kira, Erica and Lydia trailing behind.

[fanficanatic-tw]

"She's going to think I'm stalking her"

Taglist: @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciation @darknightfrombeyond @foxesandmagic @eddysocs

[myocsfanfictions]

The Vengeful Deceiver - Teen Wolf Fanfiction

Scarlett Black, she has been a vampire for 8 years and now forced to go back to school, forced to control herself in front of so much food. All for a puppy.

MASTERLIST

<< Previous - Next >>

CHAPTER 9

“Fucking driver is alive!” The text she had sent to Peter read.

That thought made Scarlett’s blood boil in her veins. She wanted him dead. He was just the beginning of her vengeance, but they didn’t make it. Scott had rebelled against Peter, and now that piece of trash could really make it through.

Her phone buzzed with a new message.

“Do not lose your temper, moonlight. We’ve got plenty of time.” She laughed angrily, wanting to throw her phone against the wall. Everything was going badly. At least Scott didn’t seem to remember that he had briefly seen her the night before. She had to stay focused and not let Stiles and Scott doubt her. They needed Scott on their side.

“Here you are!” Lydia’s loud voice made Scarlett jump.

“God…” she muttered through gritted teeth, fighting to keep her fangs from popping out.

Lydia giggled. “Jumpy, are we?” But Scarlett remained silent.

“Is everything okay?” Allison’s concerned voice broke through, and Scarlett turned to the Argent girl, reminding herself that she couldn’t kill her on the spot.

“Just shaken up,” Scarlett replied, closing her locker.

“I bet,” Allison said, touching her arm. "What happened is terrible.” Scarlett nodded, forcing a little smile, as if she truly appreciated Allison's concern.

“That’s why we must talk about happy things,” Lydia declared, rolling her eyes. “Oh, Scarlett! Did you know that Allison is hanging out with Scott tomorrow night?”

“Yeah,” Scarlett replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “Stiles told me.”

Allison giggled, making Scarlett frown. “What?”

“Nothing,” Allison said with a big smile. “I’ve just noticed how much time you spend with Stiles.”

“He’s cute and nice,” Scarlett answered shortly, feeling strange talking about Stiles. She had to understand how the bond worked; she didn’t like it when she didn't understand herself.

“There are many on the team who want to date you two, but no,” Lydia said as they were making their way to lunch. "You’ve got strange taste.”

“There are plenty of guys on the team who want to date you two, but no,” Lydia said as they walked to lunch. “You’ve got strange taste.”

“I’m not trying to date Stiles,” Scarlett blurted before she could stop herself. Why was she giving an explanation? Why did she care what they thought?

“Whatever you say,” Lydia said, taking a breath. “Anyway, I want to get to know them better. We’re eating with them today.”

“With Scott and Stiles?” Allison asked, her frown deepening in surprise.

“Yeah, why not?” Lydia replied, walking ahead down a different path, leaving Scarlett and Allison behind.

“Great…” Scarlett muttered under her breath.

Choosing lunch was always traumatic for Scarlett. As a vampire, she fed only on blood, but she had to pretend to be a normal student. Eating human food was an unpleasant experience. Nothing tasted good to her; it was as if her mouth had forgotten flavor. Not even the smell was enticing. Nothing smelled so delicious as neck skin and the blood underneath.

“Why am I nervous?” Allison asked as they made their way to the table where Scott and Stiles were now seated. Scarlett noticed their eyes widen as they looked at Lydia, who was taking a seat next to Scott.

Scarlett looked at Stiles's face. He looked both shocked and pleased as he observed Lydia. She could feel his excitement and his blood flowing faster, which irritated her.

“With Lydia?” She said to Allison, “You’re right to be nervous.” Then she moved around the table so that she could take the place next to Stiles. The boy seemed surprised by the trail next to him, and when he looked up, his brown eyes grew large once again.

“Scarlett, hey,” he said with a chuckle.

“You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?” She flashed a smile, showing her white teeth.

“No, of course not!” He was quick to answer, smiling at her as she sat down.

Scarlett looked around to notice that Danny had taken the seat on the other side of Stiles while Allison was in front of Scarlett, seated next to Scott. At the end of the table, there was a guy that Scarlett knew was on the team, but she had absolutely no idea what his name was. It did not matter, though, since the guy was fast gone as soon as Jackson arrived.

“Get up,” he said nonchalantly.

“How come you never ask Danny to get up?” The guy protested, but Danny answered this time.

“Because I don’t stare at his girlfriend’s coin slot.” That seemed fair enough. As the guy left and Jackson sat down, Scarlett turned her eyes to look at the food in front of her, pocking the hamburger with her fork. She had to get a move to start eating, or all of them would have noticed. Scarlett was hungry… she really was. Since Derek had shown up in Beacon Hills, Scarlett could not kill her food. She would hunt, bite their neck, and glamour them so that they’d forget what had happened. That was a real jump back into memory lane; that’s how Peter had started to train her. Thalia would have preferred for her to start drinking animal blood from the beginning, but Scarlett’s hunting instinct did not like to drink pig blood bought from the butcher and kept it warm inside a thermos. Peter had come out with that solution. No one would have noticed; no one would have known. And that was how she had learned.

“So,” Danny said, getting everyone’s attention, “I’ve heard they’re saying it’s some type of animal attack,” Scarlett took a sip of her water, hiding a little smirk, “Probably a cougar.”

“I heard a mountain lion,” Jackson said. Didn’t he know they were the same thing?

“A cougar is a mountain lion,” at Lydia’s words, Scarlett could not help but widen her eyes in surprise; she thought Lydia was worse than Jackson. “Isn’t it?” Scarlett observed the couple; she was doing it on porpoise. Lydia knew what she had said. Was she really up to be considered dumb to keep dating the douchebag sitting near her? That was almost depressing.

“Who cares?” Jackson answered his girlfriend. “The guy's probably some homeless tweaker who's going to die anyway.” Scarlett looked at the man, unimpressed. Could he be any more predictable?

“Actually, I found out who he is,” Stiles said, making Scarlett look up to him from next to her. She had noticed he had been looking at his phone, but she didn’t think he was already doing his research. “Check it out.” He said, showing a video about the man on his phone. Scarlett decided to pretend to take a peak at the screen, but in fact, she was more focused on Stiles. He was smart; she was well aware, but she was wondering if that could become a problem in the future and what Peter would have asked of her if Stiles got too smart for their plan?

Why was she even asking herself that?

If Stiles became a problem, they would have to kill him. She knew; she was up to it if Peter asked her, like she had always done.

“I know this guy!” Scott exclaimed with wide eyes. Everyone turned their attention to him, and Scarlett was no different. The puppy knew Meyers?

“You do?” Allison asked, surprised.

“Yeah, I used to take the bus back when I lived with my dad. He was the driver, " he answered, sharing a look with Stiles.

That was good news. If Scott had already seen the man, that could have convinced him more that he was behind the attack. It would have been better if they hadn’t linked the Alpha to Meyers yet.

“Can we talk about something slightly more fun, please?” Lydia said, clearly tired of talking about the driver, “Like, oh, where are we going tomorrow night?” She asked, turning to Allison. The Argent girl was clearly not expecting that. Her expression was a mix of surprise and confusion. “You said you and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?” Lydia asked again, not having any reaction from her friend.

“Um, we were thinking of what we were gonna do,” Allison said unsure.

“Well, I am not sitting home again watching lacrosse videos, so if the five of us are hanging out,” Lydia said, this time taking Scarlett by surprise.

“Five?” She repeated as if she hadn’t heard it right.

Lydia nodded her head, “You are coming, right?” She asked, “We are doing something fun.” Scarlett seriously doubted it. “And I’ll find you a date!” Lydia was too excited for that.

“That’s a shame, Lydia,” Scarlett said, earning a frown from the other girl, “I already have plans.”

“You do?” Lydia asked.

Scarlett nodded her head, “Yeah, with Stiles.” Stiles quickly turned to her with wide eyes and open mouth.

“What?” He said at the same time as Jackson.

“Yes,” Scarlett said, looking at Stiles, hoping that he would understand that she was searching for a way out of that situation.

“You are hanging out with Stilinski?” Jackson said as if he did not believe her. She did not answer; her eyes were still on Stiles. His pulse had accelerated, his cheeks got a pink tint, and the rush of his blood again made him look so delicious.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, nodding his head, “Yeah, Scarlett and I, we… are hanging out.” Scarlett smiled at him, moving her hand to squeeze his bicep a little to let him know that she was thankful. That gesture made Stiles’ blood rush faster, and she could feel his emotions; his shyness, his excitement, and a bit of confusion, but she could also sense his attraction. Scarlett knew that she could easily get that effect on humans, but she did not know why she felt her lips turn up into a genuine smile as she decided to let him go.

“So I’m sorry,” she said, looking at Lydia again. "Maybe another time. But have fun, you four.”

“The four of us?” Scott said with wide eyes, almost scared. Then he turned to Allison, “Do you wanna hang out, like us and them?”

“Yeah, I guess. Sounds fun,” Allison answered, clearly trying to be nice, but it was clear that she had no intention of hanging out with Lydia and Jackson.

“You know what else sounds fun?” Jackson asked, “Stabbing myself in the face with this fork.” Lydia was quick to take the fork from her boyfriend’s hand, but Scarlett would have loved to see this newfound hobby of Jackson.

“How 'bout bowling? You love to bowl.” Lydia insisted as Scarlett noticed Stiles moving his head in that usual way as he looked at Scott.

"Yeah," Jackson answered his girlfriend, observing the puppy with a mocking look, "With an actual competition."

But it was Allison, the one who answered the jackass, "How do you know we are not actual competition?" Scarlett forced herself not to roll her eyes at the interaction. If Allison wanted to go on a date with the puppy, why was she giving Jackson and Lydia all that attention?

Then Allison turned to Scott. "You can bowl, right?"

"Yeah, sort of..." The puppy seriously had to learn how to lie; she could see the truth all over his face.

Jackson leaned forward with an amused frown. "Sort of? Or yes?" he asked, which seemed to trigger the competitive side of the puppy, who glared at Jackson before speaking.

"Yes," he said, "In fact, I'm a great bowler." Scarlett did her best to hide a snort. She turned to Stiles, observing him as he hid his face behind one of his hands. Scarlett smiled at his reaction, and then she focused back on her hamburger.

The lunch break finally came to an end, bringing with it the embarrassment of the situation. Lydia wanted Scarlett to join them, but she said she needed to have a few words with Stiles. Jackson scoffed as Scarlett noticed again how Allison looked at her, alluding to something brewing between her and Stiles.

Scarlett's first reaction was to shake her head, but then again, she found herself thinking about why she felt the need to justify herself.

“Thank you, Stiles,” she said, placing a hand on his forearm. His blood ran fast, and she could feel his excitement at her touch. Scarlett felt her lips turn up into a little grin, finding his reactions amusing, but then she let go. “I was thinking we could meet tonight.”

Stiles’ eyes widened, “Me and you?”

“And Scott,” she replied, glancing at the puppy. “You wanted answers, right?”

“Yeah… right…” Stiles responded, embarrassment written all over his face. “Let’s hang out... The three of us.” Scarlett giggled again just before she touched his shoulder.

“Then we’ll see,” she said, standing up. Stiles’s eyes widened as he watched her.

“We’ll see what?” Scott let out a little chuckle.

Scarlett grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Text me the address,” she said, flashing another smile at Stiles. “I’ll see you both later.” Then she turned to leave.

Now she had to keep the story straight, making sure everything flowed and made sense. She hoped that, over time, she would make them both realize what kind of monster the Argents were.

She walked out of the school, heading toward the parking lot where she had left her motorcycle. As she took the keys from her bag, she noticed a figure in the black car parked right next to her bike.

I should have seen this coming, she thought, keeping her pace. I have nothing to hide. She repeated to herself as a man stepped out of the car.

“It took you a long time to come talk to me,” Scarlett said with a smirk, crossing her arms as she looked into the man’s green eyes. “Derek.”

********

If you'd like to be added to the tag list, just let me know.

If you liked it, please leave a ♥️ and reblog!

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU // prev, chapter 2, next

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Original Female Character, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall, Allison Argent Pairing: eventual Stiles x OFC, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 4.6k Warnings: canon typical gore/violence, parental death, depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author majored in english lit and is a choatic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: Four years ago, Drea Dickinson's entire life fell apart. Her mom died, her best friend replaced her, and all she could do was watch listlessly while everything else burned down around her. All she wants is to forget and maybe get through her sophomore year without flunking chemistry and completely unraveling at the seams—a seemingly impossible task with the sudden appearance of ghosts from her mother's mysterious past and a hair-raising beast ripping people apart all over town. It would be easier to pretend if she hadn't accidentally entwined her life with the most interrogatory bastard in town. She could have gone her whole life without meeting Stiles Stilinski, and she would've been perfectly fine, but now she's stuck knowing that she's made her bed in the fragile, breakable bones of the boy with all the answers. Chapter Summary: After an awkward encounter with Lydia Martin, Stiles realizes that his new acquaintance might be the perfect person to jumpstart his 15-year plan. Drea, on the other hand, isn't interested in discussing her ex-best friend; she's much more focused on the man who was attacked by the mysterious beast ravaging the town.

A/N: This is an entirely selfish project. This rewrite has been so incredibly nostalgic, and I may or may not have cried a few times because the TW era was such a special time of my life. To be 17 again, sigh. You can also check me out on ao3 (dork_knight)!

Her dad’s SUV was parked in the garage when Drea finally pulled into their circle driveway. It was a rare sight; her dead battery had disrupted their usual routine. She was supposed to be safely tucked away in her room after an early dinner—take-out usually, sometimes a quesadilla if she was feeling exceptionally inspired—by the time her dad got home from work. It was dysfunctional in every sense of the word, but it was the only way they could function in the same space. 

He used to stare at her from the other end of the dinner table: not eating, not speaking. The only way Drea knew he was alive was the slow rise and fall of his chest. After a while, he moved dinner to his office. ‘Working dinner,’ he’d say in passing, ‘budgets are due.’ Eventually, he stopped coming home altogether. It was better that way, Drea thought. They loved each other better from afar, where the power of nostalgia could cloud all the present unpleasantries. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her now. She wondered, and she desperately didn’t want to find out.  

Drea shouldered her backpack and made sure her car lights were off twice before quietly creeping into the mudroom. She could hear the buzz of the microwave as she toed off her sneakers and tried to discern the smell emanating from the kitchen. Something with garlic and tomato. Bona Vita, probably. Her dad loved their al pomodoro. 

She tried to make herself as small as possible as she skulked into the kitchen, shoulders hunched to her ears and grip tight around the strap of her backpack. Her dad’s back was to her; she could see the wrinkles in his collar from where he tugged at it when he was agitated. He stopped stirring his pasta once she reached the island. 

“Did…” her dad trailed off for a moment, still facing the kitchen counter, “did everything go alright with the Sheriff?” 

Drea shrugged even though he couldn’t see her, “I guess.”

“It’s just,” he rubbed at his jaw and looked down towards the oven, “it’s almost eight. I was wondering…worrying.”

He still wasn’t looking at her. Drea stared at the back of his head and sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Look at me. Her brows pinched, and her back molars ground together. Look at me. 

“I called him. Sheriff Stilinski. He said that you didn’t speak for long.”

“Didn’t have anything new to say,” Drea shoved her hands into hoodie pockets, realizing belatedly that she forgot to give Stiles his sweatshirt back. Another problem for another time. 

“That’s not what I—” Drea’s dad grasped the lip of the counter and hung his head like it suddenly weighed too much for his spine, “I was wondering what happened to you.” 

“Oh,” Drea shifted her weight onto her other foot, “dead battery. I think it was the door light.”

Her dad nodded a little, “Do you need someone to pick up your car?”

“Got a jump from a friend.” Not a friend, not really, but she supposed it was the closest she’d come to one in the last four years. That was just a little too sad to say out loud. 

“Good.” He nodded again, “Good.” 

Drea nodded because it seemed like the only thing to do and slipped towards the hallway. She’d taken no less than five steps out of the kitchen when her dad said, “You could call me. Next time, you could call me.”

Maybe. Maybe she could if he would look at her.

Monday came, and Drea had forgotten about Stiles Stilinski and his sweatshirt. In all fairness, she almost forgot her essay too. Lack of sleep, maybe, or perhaps lack of Wellbutrin—she’d also forgotten if she’d taken her pills before she left for school.

Drea crinkled her nearly empty can of Red Bull a few times and twisted the tab in circles until it snapped off. Nervous habit. She flicked the tab into a trashcan and squeezed the can until it crumpled in on itself. Okay, she’d definitely forgotten to take her pills. However, on her list of things to forget, homework outranked antidepressants by several places, so her day wasn’t off to the worst possible start in the world. Dr. Lin always said that she should spend at least five minutes every morning changing her ‘self-talk’ to ‘gratitude, not negatude’—she also said that consistently taking her meds was imperative to her mental health, but one out of two wasn’t so bad. See. Positive thinking; she was killing it. 

It was, however, pretty damn difficult to put a positive spin on a bloodied school bus cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. 

Drea lingered on the outskirts of the swarm of teenagers gawking behind the barricade that a few deputies were fruitlessly attempting to enforce. The back door of the bus was crumpled in the middle, wrenched open, and barely clinging to life with a lone intact hinge. More concerning, was the blood smeared across the yellow paint and the bloody handprints pressed against the windows.

She peered through the mass of shoulders in front of her and squinted. There were four large gouges in the door and tears in the vinyl seats—claws: Drea realized. They were claw marks. 

Baffling. The entire scene was, in all sincerity, baffling. 

Awful, Drea quickly corrected herself. The carnage was awful, first and foremost. It was awful, horrific, and totally tragic…but it was also bizarre. Animals, wild or not, generally didn’t hunt on school grounds; that honor was reserved for creepy super-seniors and perverse volleyball coaches. 

Drea chewed on her bottom lip and stewed. A bear seemed most likely, given the battering the bus took, but they were a long way from Los Padres. Mountain lions and coyotes, however, often strolled into small-town suburbia to snack on unaccompanied emotional support animals. Still, she doubted they had the strength or dexterity to rip a steel door off of its hinges. 

The first warning bell rang, and it was especially shrill while Drea was lost in her own head. She managed to not flinch with a herculean effort and pushed through the remaining voyeurs towards the front doors. Stuffing her airpods into her ears, she turned up the volume on her phone until the bass vibrated all thoughts of coyotes, cougars, and bears out of her mind. Oh my. 

Positive: Ellie Rowsell’s ethereal vocals demanded her full and undivided attention. 

Negative: Ellie Rowsell’s ethereal vocals demanded her full and undivided attention. 

She grabbed her chemistry notecards, a few highlighters, and a fat stack of books from her locker just as an overly-cologned jackass shoved his equally pungent friend straight into her crowded arms.

Positive: She hadn’t gotten the chance to organize her notes by unit number before they scattered all over the floor. 

Negative: They were still scattered all over the floor.

Biting back a few choice expletives, Drea crouched down and gathered her notecards into a messy heap. She stretched across the scuffed tile for her highlighters; one brushed past her fingertips and rolled into the pointed toe of a sleek brown leather boot. Drea glanced up, apology ready, but her tongue went cottony when she locked eyes with Lydia Martin.

Lydia Martin was many things to many people, but Drea supposed the general consensus would be that she was the apex predator—regardless of what the bloodbath outside might lead a person to believe. 

Most students were consenting prey. Enthusiastically consenting, in fact. Drea understood the impulse. Knowing she could destroy you, that was the thing that made Lydia so undeniably captivating. There were few people who proved the theory of the sublime in the flesh, let alone before they had the chance to get out of Dodge and really grow up. It was only natural to gravitate towards the only exception in Beacon County. Lydia was the duality of fear and attraction. She defined indefinable beauty—because she wasn’t just beautiful (anybody could be beautiful), Lydia was fiercely beautiful and, in the same breath, the grace of girlhood. She was…she suckerpunched Jordan Aadams in the third grade for making fun of Drea’s eyes without lifting a single manicured finger; that was the closest Drea could come to explaining the phenomenon Lydia Martin left in her wake.

Lydia’s thick red curls spilled over her shoulders as she looked down at the obstacle in her path. The angry pinch in her brows softened briefly once she made eye-contact with Drea, but she quickly corrected her slip and schooled her face into a blank expression. Returning her attention to her friend, Lydia’s heels clicked against the floor as she stepped over Drea’s copy of Metamorphosis and continued on with her conversation like it hadn’t ever stopped. Like Drea was just a mirage or a distorted oil-slick reflection—like she was a ghost who just wouldn’t fucking die already. Drea watched her go, forgetting to blink, until they reached Lydia’s locker on the other side of the hall.

Before she got extensions, Lydia liked to wear her hair in a French braid. Before she discovered full-coverage concealer, her freckles were golden against the fairness of her cheeks. Before everything fell apart, she was her best friend.

In the end, it wasn’t a terribly dramatic thing. There wasn’t a melodramatic scene or an explosive fight; sometimes, Drea wondered if that would've been better. There was a certain kind of brutality in a slow, quiet death; one that lasted long after the hot water had run out in the shower and shampoo stung her eyes. After the funeral, Drea could taste decay in their conversations, in their silences. The rot crawled listlessly—everything did back then—tauntingly sluggish. She saw the end coming weeks before they stopped speaking, and she didn’t even try to stop it. To be fair, Lydia didn’t either. On the first day of seventh grade, Lydia had new friends; they all smelled like vanilla and owned matching couture purses. She had always been magnetic, but evidently losing her only constant was her final quest before she transcended to godhood. Drea made her human; that must have been the problem. They were babies together. They were more than family. Now, they sat across from each other in a class she couldn’t bring herself to care about, and they did not look at each other unless it was straight through.

Drea snatched the runaway highlighter and quickly sunk back against the wall, pressing into it like she could force her body through the cracks in the bricks or at the very least shed the sentimentality clinging to her skin. She darted her gaze across the hall and almost snorted when she saw the amount of people who’d flocked to Lydia’s side within the last thirty seconds. Lydia was unobtainable, unknowable—and yet ever so desirable. No one really knew her, so of course they all wanted to be her. 

Lydia only liked one of them, the new girl with shiny black hair and dark eyes; Drea could tell. Her top lip pursed ever so slightly when she was holding back a barbed comment and a violent eye roll. Usually, Lydia didn’t bother with niceties, but for whatever reason she’d decided her new persona should only intimidate peons with looks and confidence, never brains. It was a shame, really; her cave-dweller boyfriend desperately needed educating. 

Drea resisted the urge to look across the hall again and smoothed out the bent corner of a notecard until ‘alpha’ became ‘alpha particle’. A shadow fell over the pink-highlighted text, and she frowned. Glancing up, her frown cemented when she saw Stiles’s elven nose and remembered that she still had his sweatshirt wadded on her desk chair.

“Hey,” Stiles adjusted his grip on his backpack, “did your car make it home okay?”

Drea nodded and shut her locker with her elbow, bending with the wobbling tower of school supplies in her arms until it stabilized again.

“Cool.” He nodded a few times, mouth puckered like a duck, and scratched at the back of his neck, “So. You and Lydia, huh.”

Drea stared intently at her notes, “Is that a question?”

“No, it’s a statement.” He hooked his thumbs around his backpack straps and leaned back slightly, “And that episode of telepathic taekwondo was definitely a statement.” 

Drea glowered until ‘alpha decay’ and ‘helium-4 nucleus’ mushed together into an illegible pink blob, “I’ve got a statement for you—only two words actually.” 

“So it is a thing.” She could hear the smirk in his voice as he grabbed the books from under her arms.

She refused to feel grateful, even as she readjusted her grip on her cards and managed to free one of her hands, “Get lost, Stilinski.”

“That’s three words.” The smirk was deafening now.

The one-minute warning bell rang and a mass of students swarmed the hallway, effectively drowning out Stiles’s smugness with a sea of jock whooping and band geek trumpeting. Drea met his gaze and smiled sweetly before stepping around him, “Kindly. Choke.”

She ignored the sound of Stiles’s large footsteps following far too closely behind her. She wanted to be annoyed with him, but English was his first-period and he did have her books in his stupidly big hands. Instead of flipping him off, Drea focused her itching fingers on stacking cards and pencils on top of her desk until Stiles sat down in the seat next to her—without permission. She changed her mind; he was annoying. 

Stiles scooted the desk closer to hers with his feet, and the metal legs screeched against the linoleum flooring for her. “Was it like a ‘grew apart over the summer’ thing, or did some serious shit go down?”

Drea sighed heavily and lined her pencils and pens next to each other, first in order of length and then color, “Why do you care?”

His mouth remained open for a second, and then he shrugged a little too casually, “I’m a naturally inquisitive person.”

“You’re unnaturally irritating,” she grumbled, low in her throat, and scowled at her picked-apart cuticles like they had done her a particular disservice. 

Stiles huffed through his nose and threw his hands in the air, ���Come on, I totally saved your ass Friday—very chivalrously too, might I add. I won’t even press charges for the theft.”

“Theft?” Drea finally turned around in her seat to face him at the accusation. 

Stiles nodded solemnly, “My sweatshirt. My most favorite sweatshirt of all the sweatshirts.”

Oh. Drea deflated a little; she’d forgotten about that pesky little detail again. She snatched her books off of his desk before their lives could become further entangled and replied flatly,  “I’ll overnight it.”

“No, I insist you keep it.” His smile was a little too crooked to be truly cocky,  “I’m a good guy like that.”

Drea tapped her pencil against her chin, eraser side up, and cocked her head to the side, “Isn’t it incredible how every self-proclaimed ‘good guy’ is exclusively terrible.”

Stiles’s face twisted into a petulant scowl as he collapsed against the back of his chair, and Drea was a little surprised that the desk managed to contain all of his gangly appendages without collapsing as well. “I like her, okay!” His exasperated confession carried to the next row of students, and Stiles melted into his seat when a jacked sophomore with no neck whistled lewdly behind them. Squeezing his eyes shut, Stiles lowered his voice, “Actually, I’m kind of in love with her if you want to be technical about it.”

“Oh.” Drea blinked and then laughed.

“Don’t laugh, dickface.” 

“Sorry,” she grinned, not sorry in the slightest, “it’s just…isn’t everyone?”

Stiles shook his head and sighed wistfully, “Not like I am.”

Drea turned to get a better look at him, and she didn’t mask the doubt in her eyes. He was wearing a brown flannel that was practically mewling for a good ironing and a red t-shirt with the silhouette of a spider embossed over his chest. Spider-Man’s emblem, obviously. If she had to hazard a guess, she’d bet it was the Andrew Garfield version. Regardless, it was blatantly clear that Stiles’s home planet was lightyears away from Lydia’s.  

Drea folded her arms over chest and leaned back against her seat, “Have you even talked to her?” 

“Technically…no,” Stiles dipped his head from side to side like a bobble head and then pressed his palms together, gesturing with them every so often to emphasize the most ridiculous words in his sentence, “but we have a deep, unspoken connection, mostly via sporadic eye-contact.”

Drea just looked at him, unamused and unimpressed.

Stiles held up his hands like a director and kicked his feet onto his desk, “It’s about the long-game.”

“Gross,” Drea pulled a face. She wasn’t sure if she was referring to the gray wad of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe or the pride in his long-con. It was probably a bit of both.

“Are you gonna help a Nobody out or not?” Stiles nudged the leg of her desk with his sneaker—the gumless one, thankfully—and sent one of her pens careening towards the edge.

Drea caught it before it could hit the ground and glared at him. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not an ‘in.’” She returned the pen to its rightful place between her pencil and purple highlighter: a perfect rainbow of neuroticism. Drea straightened her row of writing utensils again and swallowed shallowly, “I don’t even know her anymore.”

For the first time since Stiles had popped up in front of her locker like a chronic zit, understanding clicked in his eyes. Actually, he almost looked apologetic. Stiles sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and leaned forward onto his forearms, “So…what happened? Did you not make queen bee first-string?”

“No,” Drea bristled. After a long exhale, she crumpled in on herself a little and mumbled, “Yes…kind of. I don’t know. I have my version; I’m sure she has hers.”

Stiles clasped his hands together and nodded sagely, “There are as many truths as there are people.”

Drea’s brows scrunched, and her eyes went lidded as she flipped through her mental philosophy rolodex, “Camus?”

He shook his head and clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth, “Evangelion.” 

Drea was startled into a snorty chortle, “Obviously you’re a weeb.”

Stiles hid his amusement behind a slow roll of his eyes, “You’re at least 1/16 weeb if you know Evangelion is an anime.”

Before she could deny such blasphemy, Drea was distracted by the boy who usually sat next to her—Greg something, she was pretty sure—coming to a stop directly between her and Stiles. He lingered next to the side of his desk, breathing heavily through his mouth like some kind of sick prowler. 

Stiles glanced at him with a flat expression and then looked up again, brows shooting towards his hairline, when he didn’t leave, “Can I help you?” He jerked his head forward and shook it slightly, “Need a mint?”

Greg Something stared at him, red-rimmed eyes thoroughly glazed over, and Drea wondered if being faded at 7:45 in the morning was worth the tortuous five-hour wait until lunch. 

“No?” Stiles waved his hand in the air; Greg didn’t even blink. “Okay seeya.”

It took him roughly 30 seconds to comprehend what Stiles was saying, but eventually Greg shuffled towards one of the remaining empty seats in the middle of the classroom. 

“Thank you,” Stiles muttered before returning his attention to the side of Drea’s face.

She smirked slightly at her notebook, doodling a little bird with sharp talons along the margins of her notes on Kafka’s thoughts on absurdism—spoiler alert: the guy who wrote a book about a dude randomly transforming into a bug was a big fan of it. She added a long feathered tail to her bird and said, “It is his seat.”

Stiles scoffed and looked over his shoulder. They watched Greg shove a handful of Cheeto Puffs into his mouth in slow-motion for a moment, and Stiles replied, “I think he’ll live.”

“Oh,” Drea shook her head a little, freshly bitten lips curling around the extended vowel, “I’m not worried about him.”

Stiles aggressively clicked his pen with his thumb and pressed his mouth together until his lips disappeared into a flat line. “If you would just answer my questions the first time, I wouldn’t have to keep asking them, so, for the love of god—” fortuitously for him, he was cut off by a loud scratchy buzz before Drea could succumb to her base instincts and throw an eraser into his flapping mouth. 

Principal Montoya’s voice crackled through the loudspeaker, “Attention students: I know that many of you are concerned about the…incident in the parking lot, but rest assured that the police have it well in hand. Classes will proceed as scheduled as they continue their investigation. Have a productive day, Cyclones.”

A resounding groan echoed throughout the classroom and into the hallway, followed by the hum of students breaking into various complaints. Mr. Lyman thwacked his pointer against the whiteboard, and the force of his swing sent the cartoonish hand on the end of the stick into rapid vibration—effectively shutting everyone up. The quiet was only disturbed by the rustle of zippers being unzipped and papers being smoothed when he instructed them to turn their essays in. 

Drea hastily wrote her name across the top of her paper and pointedly kept her eyes on the board when Stiles leaned across his desk. “Life’s short, y’know. One day you’re a traveling salesman, and the next you’re a grotesque, monstrous insect, wishing that you’d seized life when you had the opposable thumbs for it, so—”

“A man just died; have some class,” Drea interrupted him, voice dry as it was soft. Stiles might not care about getting in trouble, but she had worked very hard to remain on a no-name basis with all her teachers. 

“We don’t know that he’s dead—or that he’s a he.”

“Oh yeah,” Drea jotted down the daily prompt in her notebook and muttered, “I’m sure the guy just decided to go home and sleep off the mauled limbs.”

“It could’ve been an animal,” Stiles huffed, bowing his head in submission when Mr. Lyman shot him a stern look from behind his desk. He continued with his hand over his mouth, muffling his words, “And they do run off to die alone.” 

Drea stared at him for a long moment. “That’s cats. Are you saying a bear ripped a bus apart for a cat.” 

“Well, if you say anything in that tone, it’s going to sound ridiculous,” Stiles muttered sullenly against his palm, and she was pretty sure that he was pouting behind it too.

She opened her mouth to reply and then squinted slightly when a boy with floppy hair skidded to a halt in front of them. His mouth was slightly agape as he looked back and forth between Stiles and Greg, who was now licking the nearly toxic orange dust off of his fingers. 

 “Sit, Scotty,” Stiles jerked his thumb towards the empty desk behind him. “Good boy.”

The boy, Scott she gathered, did not look amused, but he sat down behind Stiles anyway and leaned forward to whisper something in his ear. Stiles whipped around and responded in a hushed screech.

Drea was distracted from her eavesdropping when Lydia’s friend sat down next to Scott—directly behind her. Her jaw could cut glass. She dropped her chin onto her folded arms and refused to let herself frown; the end result was a slightly constipated pout. It was just…Allison had just started going to Beacon Hills a few weeks ago, and she was already completely intertwined in Lydia’s life. 

Lydia was…prickly, so she was just surprised, that’s all, how easily Allison fit into her life. More palatable, Drea thought as she risked a peek over her shoulder; she must be more palatable than most. A terrible, ugly thing creeped over her, and she found herself imagining Allison choking on her beautiful, silky black hair until her beautiful dark eyes popped out of her head. Just for a moment. A brief, awful, horrible moment—until she remembered it wasn’t Allison’s fault. 

“Hey.” Drea flinched when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.

She reluctantly shifted in her chair so that she could see Allison. She just looked at her for an uncomfortable moment, and Allison smiled awkwardly, “The tests.” Drea blinked and licked her dry lips, at a loss for words. Allison smiled again, a little nervous but still kind, “They're on your desk.”

“Oh,” Drea said dumbly and reached for the pile of papers on her desk that she’d missed during her lengthy period of dissociation. She kept one and then held out the rest to Allison, mumbling, “Sorry,” under her breath.

Allison looked at her for a moment, and Drea didn’t like the discerning look in her doe eyes. “It’s okay. I zone-out all the time.” 

She could see why Lydia liked her; she was nice, overly so. Drea felt that ugly feeling slip into her mouth again, bitterness coating her tongue, and she wished that Allison was catty or at very least a vapid twit who was either too stupid or too self-involved to notice other people—like the rest of Lydia’s circle. 

“I like your necklace.” Allison nodded a little towards the black chain around her neck. 

A heavy pendant rested just over Drea’s sternum; the maze etched into the stone had eroded in places, like it had been left out in acid rain for decades. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was made of; her mother never said when she gave it to her, and she never asked. It didn’t matter much now. 

“Thanks,” Drea finally said, because that was what normal people did when they were complimented, and she was a normal person. Mostly. She swallowed thickly and bit down on the scab in the center of her bottom lip before adding, “I like your jacket.” She did. It was simple, unadorned by gaudy zippers and lapels like so many of the other leather jackets on campus. She would wear it herself if she didn’t break into a sweat in any temperature warmer than tepid. 

Allison’s cheeks dimpled when she smiled, and Drea quashed the sigh rising in her throat. Her smile was magnificent. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if I could pull it off, but my friend convinced me to—” Allison let out a little breathy laugh, “Sorry, you definitely don’t want to hear my jacket’s tragic backstory.”

She didn’t, not if it included hearing about Lydia’s fashion tips second-hand. Still, Drea managed a little smile, “As long as it doesn’t begin with a cow, you’re golden.”

Allison laughed and held up her hands, “It’s faux; I promise.”

“Ladies,” Mr. Lyman called from across the classroom, “I wasn’t aware that existentialism was so amusing.” Drea felt a dizzying heat crawl up her neck to her ears once she realized that the only noise in the room, other than Allison’s tinkly laughter, was the scratch of pencils on paper as students worked on their tests. 

“Sorry,” they mumbled at the same time, and Allison mouthed another ‘Sorry’ just for her before Drea turned around. Damn. She liked her. How incredibly inconvenient. She almost wished that Stiles was still pestering her so that she had a real reason to be upset—until she finally got a good look at the mid-term, more specifically at the thickness of it. Drea flipped through the lengthy test and looked at the ceiling briefly: Six essay questions? 

Positive: At least, she found a legitimate excuse to sulk. 

Negative: She felt a migraine coming on.