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sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy · 1 day ago

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Who's in Love With the Big Bad Wolf

Masterlist | AO3

Sterek

There was something creeping around Beacon Hills, what else was new? At first, they had thought it was random. They had been finding an unusual amount of dead animals recently. There didn’t seem to be a pattern until it was too late. A particularly creepy string of “gifts” clear it up: something was after Stiles. Again.

~14k

This is when they’re adults (Derek is 31 and Stiles is 28 b/c the cannon timeline makes no sense and Derek was supposed to be 19 in season 1 anyway) and Eli is about 8 years old. Stiles quit working for the FBI after the season 6 raid and decide to move back to Beacon Hills. He ended up working as a deputy under his dad and Derek owns the mechanic’s shop. Stiles and Derek became closer, like actual friends, since Stiles had been back. He even helps with Eli.

I also really enjoy this mental image of Stiles as a cop being just so fucking annoying to his coworkers. Like, he’s the “cool cop” that the teenagers half like and half make fun of because he openly talks about supporting ACAB and leans into the jokes like the Cop Cuties song and he’d totally be like Miles’s dad in Into the Spiderverse when he drops him off at school. I just don’t think he ever grew out of being a menace and, honestly, my favorite part about Stiles is that is is so competent and yet such a mess at the same time.

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It started with a dead birds at the diner Stiles frequented for curly fries– he’d seen some of the poor teenage employees having to bag and toss them in the dumpster. Stiles asked about it when he stopped by the dinner.

“Hey, officer Stilinski. How are you doing today,” the girl working the register asked.

“I’m doing good. How are you, Kimmy,” Stiles asked. He was here too often.

“I’m doing good, “ she smiled. “I saw your other half yesterday. He brought Eli in for an after school snack. He’s such a little cutie,” she said.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’m not dating Derek.”

“If you say so,” Kimmy said. “So, a double bacon burger, no tomato, and a side of curly fries?”

Stiles nodded, pulling out his wallet. He was here far too much. “You know me well,” he said, handing over his card. “Not to kill everyone’s appetite, but have you noticed more dead animals around?”

“No, sorry. I just work the register and waitress,” she said, adding “I can ask Jonah but he’d report it if he thought there was something wrong.”

“That’d be great. Just have him give me a call,” Stiles said, taking his card back and handing Kimmy a business card with his work number on it. “Make sure that gets to Jonah, please.”

“Not a problem,” she said, setting it beside the register. “Your food will be ready in a few minutes.”

There were more dead animals around town, dead birds and rabbits at first. Sure, it was odd to see a dead rabbit in city limits but road kill happens everywhere, so it was quickly forgotten.

Then it was cats. The police department would get calls about half-dead cats around town– the hospital, the schools, one was even found at th station– which was when Stiles took notice. There were just too many to be a coincidence. After taking yet another call about a still-twitching dying cat on the steps Eichen House, and after confirming it hadn’t been the work of one of the residents, Stiles decided something needed to be done.

Stiles pulled up to Derek’s shop in the police cruiser. As he got out of the car, Derek walked over, wiping oil off his hands with a rag.

“You’re not helping my reputation by showing up in uniform,” Derek said in a tone Stiles knew to be his approximation of a joke.

“Being friends with a cop who happens to also be the sheriff’s son is hurting business,” Stiles asked with a smirk, leaning on the hood of his car. “I didn’t know you kept that clientele, Der. I mean, I’m all for ACAB, especially when the Feds come poking around but...”

Derek shook his head, standing in front of Stiles. “You really shouldn’t say that while in uniform,” he said, trying not to smile. “I meant because of my history with the department.”

“Then I’m really not about to help it,” Stiles said. “We need to go talk to Deaton about the pest problem, see if he has any recommendations for getting rid of it.”

Derek sighed, “and you want me to ride with you?”

“Saves on gas. Your mom van is a gas guzzler,” Stiles teased, “and I don’t pay for her gas.”

“Her,” Derek asked incredulously.

“Yup, Miss Piggy,” Stiles said, snickering at his own joke as he tapped on the hood.

Derek sighed, looking at the ground and wondering why the fuck he put up with Stiles. “Let me tell the guys I’m headed out,” he said, turning to walk back to the shop.

“Your husband taking you out for lunch,” one of the shop employees asked Derek as he walked back in.

“Not my husband, I’m not married,” Derek grumbled, walking into the office for his phone.

“Fucking, fine. Your boyfriend, then.”

“Not my boyfriend either,” Derek said. “I don’t know how long I’ll be. If you break something, it better belong to you and not a customer.”

Derek ignored the jeering as he walked back to the police cruiser. Like a bunch of toddlers, arguing with them made it into a game. He opened the passenger door and sat down, waiting for Stiles to drive off.

Derek looked at Stiles, finding him staring. “What?”

“Put your seatbelt on.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Stiles said, waiting. “Put your seatbelt on.”

“You never wear a seatbelt, Stiles.”

Stiles gestured to himself. “I’m wearing it right now. We’re in the cruiser, put it on.”

Derek rolled his eyes but put on his seatbelt.

“Thank you,” Stiles sighed, backing up. “You know, you should really wear it all the time so Eli learns to wear his.”

“Stiles,” Derek sighed.

“What? I’m just saying, I don’t want to have to pull him over when he starts driving because he doesn’t wear one,” Stiles said, putting the car in drive and heading for Deaton’s.

“You’ll probably be pulling him over anyway with how much time he spends with you,” Derek scoffed.

“Even more reason for you to be a good influence,” Stiles shrugged, “plus, I hate to break it to you, you’re his dad. I’m just the babysitter.”

Derek frowned. “You’re not just the babysitter,” he said.

Stiles gave Derek a quick glance, hearing the change in tone. “Then what am I, Der? The not-uncle he stays the night with?”

“I had hoped you say yourself as part of the pack and…” Derek cut himself off.

“And what?”

“Nothing,” Derek mumbled, leaning over to turn up the radio.

🎶Cop cuties, cute n' on duty. Navy blue booties.🎶

“I hate you,” Derek grumbled, leaning back in his seat as Stiles laughed.

Derek and Stiles got out of the car at the animal clinic, making their plans for the evening as Stiles turned off his body cam.

“Well, if you want anything other than spaghetti, we’ll have to stop at the store before going to my place,” Stiles said, opening the door.

“Mine it is, then,” Derek said, walking inside. “Eli’s been on this thing where he won’t eat noodles ever since he saw that deer with worms.”

Stiles grimaced, “I think I might not eat noodles either, now.”

Deaton smiled at Stiles and Derek when they walked in. “I knew I’d be seeing you soon,” he commented, getting their attention.

“We’re actually trying this new thing where we ignore the supernatural happenings in this town. Much easier for us that way,” Stiles said sarcastically, hooking his thumbs in his duty belt.

“Don’t you look like your father,” Deaton said, giving Stiles a smile.

Stiles dropped his arms to his sides, not sure what to do with them that wouldn’t look more like his dad.

“What do you know about the dead animals,” Derek asked, his annoyance with Deaton loud and clear.

“I know less than Deputy Stilinski, here. Possibly less than yourself if your patrol has continued,” Deaton said.

“So you don’t know anything,” Derek asked again.

“I never said that,” Deaton retorted, “but I’m not sure how much help I can be.”

“Just tell us what you do know and we’ll tell you if it fills in any gaps,” Stiles said, settling on shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I can tell you this isn’t simple animal attacks. It’s quiet deliberately leaving these animals on the brink of death.”

“Why,” Derek asked.

“That, I’m not sure of,” Deaton said.

“Fine. What is it using to do it? Teeth? Knife? What?”

“Teeth, certainly, and Canine at that,” Deaton explained.

“Oh, wow. That really clears things up,” Stiles mumbled. “Dog, wolf, coyote? What kind of canine? And I know you know because you’re the one getting called to put them down.”

“It’s very difficult to tell the difference between the bite of a dog and that of a wolf. In fact—”

“Same ratio and number of teeth but wolves have thicker teeth, more developed molars, and longer canines,” Stiles said, cutting him off. “If you don’t want to help, let me look for myself.”

Deaton gave a polite smile, the one that you knew was hiding annoyance. “It seems to be a wolf, thought not a typical specimen.”

“Great. That’s all you had to say,” Stiles said, matching Deaton’s thinly vailed annoyance with his own. “Unless you have anything to add about a possible pattern or motive, we’re going to leave and figure it out.”

“You two have certainly become quite the duo, haven’t you,” Deaton hummed. “I will let you know if there are any more pertinent developments.”

“I don't know what you're trying to insinuate and I don't care, but I still don't like it,” Stiles said. “I have less than 20 minutes left in my break, so we're leaving.”

He grabbed Derek’s arm and started walking away. Derek followed after him, letting Stiles lead him back to the car by his arm.

They made it outside and Stiles rolled his eyes. “Why does he always have to be cryptic and minimally informative at best,” he complained. “I mean, come on! When we were teenagers, I kind of understood him not wanting to tell us everything but now? I’ve been dealing with this shit for over ten years— you’ve delt with it your whole life— but he acts like he can’t trust us.”

“Can I have my arm back,” Derek asked.

“Shit,” Stiles let go, “sorry. He pisses me off, acting all shady.” He rubbed his face. “I need food or I’m gonna stay pissed off.”

“You drive. I’ll call the diner,” Derek said, rolling his eyes.

“You’re my favorite right now,” Stiles sighed, unlocking the cruiser.

“Favorite what,” Derek asked, opening the passenger door.

“Well, it can’t be alpha since that would mean picking between you and Scott. Can’t be favorite werewolf or favorite Hale since Eli definitely holds those titles.” Stiles clicked his tongue as he thought. ”I don’t know, but I’ll think of something.”

Derek rolled his eyes, trying not to let Stiles catch his smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

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Stiles got off work at five and headed over to Derek’s house. He didn't bother to knock, just walking into the house. He said a quick hello and headed for the bathroom to change out of his uniform. He retuned to the kitchen once he’d changed into his sweats and a comfy t-shirt.

“Hi Stiles,” Eli said, looking up from his homework as Stiles walked in.

“Hey, kid,” Stiles said, walking over to th breakfast bar where Eli was working. “What are you doing now?”

Derek turned to watch the pair interact. It never failed to make Derek feel like he’d made the right choice in staying. They might not have a lot of family left but Eli had so many people that loved him than any ‘village’ ever could.

“Math,” Eli grumbled. “I have a whole page of multiplication and division!”

“You’ll be fine. You’re good at math,” Stiles said, ruffing Eli’s hair.

“But it’s boring and it takes too long,” Eli whined.

Derek sighed. “I have a feeling I’m going to hear all about that tonight,” he mumbled, catching Stiles’s smile at the comment.

“What time is your meeting,” Stiles asked, looking at him.

Sometimes it was hard to think when Stiles looked at him like that. It made this whole arrangement feel a little too domestic for friends. There was something in the way Stiles never had a second thought when it came to caring for Eli that had Derek wondering what things could be. Honestly, it was always had to thing around Stiles. Maybe that’s why Derek acted without thinking around him.

“Can I read my book instead,” Eli asked, looking rather miserable.

“That’s fine,” Derek said and Eli jumped down, running off to the living room. Derek sighed and turned his attention back to Stiles. “I meet with his teacher in an hour and a half,” he said. “There’s a pizza in the oven. The stove timer is on, so don’t burn the house down. Eli has this page of math and he has a book he needs to finish reading. You just need to sign the sheet when he finishes it. I’m going to go change.”

Stiles pulled out his laptop, looking over the reports of dead animals around town. Something just didn’t seem right. He made sure Eli was still reading every few minutes and decided to call Scott just to ramble about what was going on, trying to get the events straight for himself.

“Dude, I’m sure it’s nothing,” Scott said, not seeming to care. “Probably just some stupid teens playing a prank or something,” he said.

Derek walked in in time to hear the tail end of Scott’s comment. He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything about it.

“What,” Stiles asked is disbelief, remembering how many times Scott brushed things off before. “Scott, dude, the only person I know who would think leaving dead animals around town is a good prank is Peter, who is insane.”

“Maybe they got a little too into the occult,” Scott suggested, not really paying attention.

“That may be the dumbest theory I’ve heard from him yet,” Derek grumbled before ducking off to parent-teacher conference for Eli.

Stiles decided talking to Scott was no help and started to look into it on his own. He spent the night bouncing between staring at the list of reports and listening to Eli’s comments about the book he was reading.

There didn't seem to be a rhyme or reason behind the reports and things were only getting worse.

Stiles and Derek were getting uneasy as the animals got larger and more frequent. Some opposums were killed. A racoon here and there. Next it was dogs. The station was on high alert for a dangerous predator and so was the pack.

Stiles laid on Derek’s couch, throwing a ball in the air and catching it while Derek cooked dinner. He was trying to go over his list of mental notes about the dead animals: where were they, how long had they been there, how many were dead when found, how many were only half-dead, would some of those dead ones have lived if found sooner, was there a pattern in how many of each were killed? It was too much to keep in his head.

“I’m grabbing paper from your office,” Stiles said, sitting up on the couch.

“Don’t go snooping,” Derek answered and Stiles smirked.

“Well now I want to…” he joked, getting up and making his way to the office.

He grabbed a hunk of the loose notebook paper and the cup of highlighters, pens, and pencils kept specifically for him. By the time Stiles made his way to the kitchen counter with the paper and pens, Derek had already set a cup of tea by his usual spot. Stiles sat down and started to scribble down his mental notes. One page was dedicated to locations of dead animals and Stiles kept adding more he’d seen himself along with the dates.

Derek looked at Stiles list. “Are these all the reports,” he asked, surprise by just how many there were.

“Huh? Oh,” Stiles took the marker out from between his teeth. “Yup. All the reports and the ones I’ve seen.” He turned the page so Derek could read it from the opposite side of the counter. “The red is reports and the yellow is mine.”

“You’ve seen… a lot. How have you found that many,” Derek asked, looking at him curiously.

Stiles shrugged, “I have no clue, dude. I feel like I see them everywhere I go…”

“Really,” Derek asked. Stiles met his eyes, biting the end of the marker. “I never see them, at least I don’t when I’m not with you. Maybe you draw them in,” he joked, picking up the paper to read the locations more closely.

Stiles smiled at Derek. “What can I say? I’m just a magnet for the supernatural.”

“A magnet for trouble, maybe,” Derek scoffed, giving the paper back and turned his attention to the food.

Days would pass where fewer animals were found. Some were worse, some where better but there was always dead animals in odd places. Stiles would add locations to the running list kept in Derek’s office, not that they were able to figure anything out.

Then it escalated.

Stiles had miraculously managed to get a parking spot in front of Eli’s school– a rarity especially on a Friday. The best part of driving the jeep was that it would fit in just about any parking spot he needed it to and that included squeezing between the pompous better-than-thou mom in the cheap Bentley parked like she owned the place and the very apologetic Mr. Jacobs who had to bring the truck with the hay bed to pickup.

Stiles had decided to sit the the hood of the jeep until the bell rang so Eli would see him past the large truck. He was on the phone with Derek as he drove back from the airport with Cora in the passenger seat. She had meant to be there yesterday but her flight got delayed and made her miss the layover. It was a whole shit show and Derek had to pick her up.

“We’ll only be another thirty minutes,” Derek sighed. “I’m sorry, Stiles.”

“No, it’s totally good. I don’t mind picking him up. Eli’s great! We’ll get a snack, do homework and then go to the park or something,” Stiles said.

“I– fuck… I know you don’t mind but I still feel like shit for not telling you sooner,” Derek grumbled.

“Dude, relax. Get some food, too. I can deal with you being hangry but not you and Cora being hangry,” Stiles said. “Eli and I will be fine for thirty extra minutes. He’ll probably watch Bluey.”

“You say that like you’re not also going to watch Bluey,” Derek teased.

“Hey, Bluey is awesome,” Stiles scoffed. “Drive safe, don’t die, and text me when you’re ten minutes out. We’ll need time to clean up after the total rager of a party we’re throwing.”

Derek stifled a laugh, “thank you Stiles. I feel better that Eli will be with you.”

“No problem, Der,” Stiles said with a smile.

“Der,” Cora snickered and Stiles paled. “Gag me with a spoon. Jesus, when did you two get so cozy?”

“You’ve been gone three years,” Derek argued.

“Why didn’t you tell me I was on speaker,” Stiles asked, going from pale to bright red from embarrassment.

“I’m driving, Stiles. My phone is connected to the car,” Derek said.

“I didn’t know you were in the mom van.”

“The camaro is inconvenient. Cora has a suitcase,” Derek said.

“I would feel less embarrassed by the camaro but, I have to admit, this is comfy and the heated seats are nice,” Cora hummed.

“Thank you,” Derek said exasperatedly.

“Still weird for you to have a mom van,” Stiles said. “Alright, you guys get food and I’ll text you when Eli and I get back to the house.”

“Bye Stiles.”

“Bye, Cora. Bye Derek,” Stiles said and hung up. He checked the time, playing a game on his phone while he waited.

When the bell rang, Stiles tucked his phone in his pocket. Annoyingly, since he was still in uniform, the pocket was smaller than his jeans. He stood up, watching for Eli’s class to head out. He saw Eli’s teacher bringing her class out and spotted Eli talking to one of his friends. Stiles smiled, waiting for Eli to look for him. They weren’t in any kind of a hurry so he let them talk.

Eli and his friend eventually parted when the other kid’s parent showed up. Eli looked around and saw Stiles waiting for him. He ran over and hugged Stiles.

“Stiles, guess what? I got a B on my spelling test,” Eli declared excitedly, letting go of Stiles.

“Holy cow, dude! You must have worked so hard,” Stiles said, holding up a hand to Eli. He gave him a high five and and Stiles smiled. “Alright, here’s the plan,” he said, placing a hand on Eli’s shoulder and guiding him to the passenger side of the jeep, “first, snack and homework. Then, we’ll go to the—”

A scream cut Stiles short. He grabbed Eli, pulling him close and getting to the ground. Stiles looked around, trying to listen to what was happening.

“Get under the jeep,” he whispered, pushing Eli to safety.

Stiles moved to see what was going on but staying as low as possible. Rather than everyone running, they seemed frozen in place. The teachers had moved all the students close to building but not inside. Looking around more Stiles saw it.

A deer that had been mauled by something and was near death was running across the elementary school court yard. Stiles watched as the deer’s skin ripped and it crumpled to the ground, blood and gore leaking into the grass.

“Stiles,” Eli whimpered, pulling his attention.

“Hey buddy,” Stiles said softly, pulling Eli out from under the jeep since there was no visible threat. He wiped tears off of Eli’s face and smiled at him. “It’s okay. Everyone is safe, just a deer running around and scaring people,” Stiles assured him and Eli nodded, calming down. “You did so good, dude. I’m so proud of you,” he smiled, hugging Eli tightly.

Stiles hadn’t wanted to scare him but he also wanted to keep him safe and if he needed a hug now, so be it. Stiles picked Eli up and pulled out his phone, calling his dad.

“I know someone’s probably already called but there’s a deer laying in the grass in front of the elementary school. Deaton can’t help this one, though,” Stiles said.

Sheriff Noah Stilinski sighed. “You’re about the tenth person to call… Why are you at the elementary school?”

“Picking up Eli,” Stiles said. He didn’t need to clarify why. Derek and Eli had become such an important part of his life, there was no need to. He had Eli a lot.

“Did he see anything,” Sheriff asked worriedly.

“Uh, no but I might have scared him a little bit…”

“Poor kid,” Sheriff mumbled. “There’s officers on the way to manage traffick and animal control for the rest. You get Eli home.”

“Will do. Talk to you later, dad,” Stiles said, hanging up and putting his phone back in his pocket. He placed his free hand on Eli’s back. “Why don’t we just go home, buddy? I’ll even let you have a little ice cream.”

Stiles hurried Eli into the jeep, pulling out his phone to text Derek as he got in. Something was wrong.

He took Eli back to Derek’s house. Eli didn’t leave Stiles’s side for a second. He was still glued to Stiles when Derek and Cora got back.

Derek scooped Eli up in a hug, holding him close. Stiles took the chance and got up to go pee. He met Derek’s eyes when he stood up.

Derek mouthed ‘thank you’ as he held his kid.

Stiles smiled at him and headed for the bathroom. When he got back, he didn’t see anyone. He wandered into the kitchen for a drink and found Cora.

“Hey, where’s Derek and Eli,” Stiles asked, leaning on the counter.

She hummed, closing one cabinet and opening another. “They’re in Eli’s room. Derek’s trying to distract him with toys and shit.” Cora said, groaning when she couldn’t find whatever she was looking for. “Where the fuck does he keep the peanut butter?”

“Eli’s allergic to peanuts but there’s sunflower butter in the tall cabinet,” Stiles said. He walked over, opening the tall cabinet, moving a few cans and pulling out the jar of sunflower butter.

Cora looked at Stiles suspiciously. “You’re sure familiar with the kitchen,” she commented, taking the jar and setting it on the counter with the bread and jelly she’d already found. “Any particular reason for that?”

“Derek asks me to help out with Eli and I do,” Stiles said, grabbing a packet of fruit snacks and sitting at the counter.

“You must help a lot if you know exactly where the peanut butter is,” Cora suggested, looking down at her sandwich. There was no way these two idiots were just friends. Derek might be stupid but he couldn’t be so stupid to have not made a move in the three years she’d been gone.

He shrugged. “Guess you could say that. Eli likes pb&j after swimming so I figured it out.”

“You take him swimming a lot,” Cora asked, feigning curiosity.

“No so much anymore,” Stiles said, breathing out heavily as he thought. “He used to want to go swimming everyday. Recently, though, he’s been wanting to wander the preserve more but he still likes playing in the pond out there.” He smiled, adding “Der blames that on me but I doubt you guys didn’t do the same as kids. “

Cora hummed. “That nickname, he lets you call him that? You know, I used to call him Der-bear when we were little– he had this whole thing with carebears— but he doesn’t let me use my nickname for him so I’m just… confused as to why he’s okay with you using one.”

“Der-bear, really,” Stiles asked, huffing a laugh. “The nickname thing is a Derek question.”

“I only ask because you two seem,” Cora thought a moment, “closer than last time I was here.”

“Cora, if you want to ask me if I’m dating your brother then just ask,” Stiles said.

“I wasn’t—”

“I’ve had this conversation with Peter too, only he choose to comment about Derek, Eli, and I making a day trip to the beach and then about how I was the only adult Derek had one-on-one time with outside of work,” Stiles said. “You both seem to like dancing around the subject.”

“I am nothing like Peter. You take that back,” Cora scoffed. “And I was getting there.”

“Then just ask.”

“Fine. Are you dating my brother?”

“No,” Stiles said. “We’re friends and Derek trusts me to take care of Eli because we went through Hell and back.”

“But you have feelings for him,” Cora said and Stiles sighed.

“Even if I do—”

“You do.”

“Even if I do,” Stiles repeated, “it doesn’t matter. Derek and I are friends. I won’t risk losing him and Eli for a fling that could ruin everything. I wouldn’t do that to them.”

Cora nodded, taking a bite of her sandwich. Without the discussion to distract her, she realized how weird the sunflower peanut butter tasted. After a few bites, she couldn't finish it and dropped the food back onto the plate. “This tastes awful,” she mumbled.

“Ya, the ‘sunbutter’ kind of tastes like dirt,” Stiles said, making air quotes for the name as he said it.

“I didn’t know Eli was allergic to peanuts. How did I not know,” Cora asked, concern in her voice.

“Oh, it scared the shit out of us,” Stiles huffed. “The first time he had peanuts, he was fine. The next time he had a little bit of a rash but he’d also had dragon fruit for the first time so we didn’t think it was the peanuts butter. But the last time? He broke out it hives and was coughing…” he shook his head. “We drove him to the hospital– Derek was doing his whole internal freak out where he looks fine to everyone else but we know– and they gave him a shot. They watched him until they were sure he was good and then sent us home. Little shit went right to sleep.”

Cora rolled her eyes, “I bet Derek was still freaking out.”

“Oh, ya. Big time,” Stiles said. “I don’t think either of us slept. I didn’t know werewolves could have allergies.”

“Once he starts shifting, it should go away,” Cora explained.

“Derek said that too but I’m not sure he’ll ever let Eli have peanuts again.”

“Derek used to be allergic to dogs before he grew out of it,” Cora said, poking at her sandwich disappointedly.

Stiles watched Cora’s face, looking for any sign of it being a joke. “Derek, who can now fully shift into a wolf, used to be allergic to dogs,” he asked, devolving in to laughter. “That’s fucking awesome.”

“Mom had to make a rule about shifting in the house because of it,” she added.

Once Eli had calmed down and was no longer stuck to Derek or Stiles, they discussed what they should do. Stiles made the suggestion of going to the school and Derek agreed. Cora, after learning what was going on, offered to watch Eli while they went to the school later that evening.

When they got there, the dead deer was gone but the blood was harder to remove. They had tried to wash it away but Derek way still able to follow the smell of blood. Stiles made a joke about Derek sticking his head out the window and got a glare in return. They decided to stay in the jeep until they had to get out since it was getting dark. Stiles drove slowly, letting Derek give directions based on the smell.

“I can’t believe I wasn’t there,” Derek mumbled, kicking himself internally.

“You couldn’t have known,” Stiles said. “Besides, it’s not like you could have done anything. He didn’t see anything. He just got scared and that was honestly my fault for over reacting.”

Derek nodded. “Thank you for protecting him.”

“Like I’d let anything hurt him,” Stiles scoffed. “Hell, I was fully ready to take a bullet for him today.” Stiles licked his lips as the thought sunk in. He was completely ready to put himself in front of a shooter, unarmed, to protect Eli.

“Are you okay,” Derek asked, his eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“Ya, I’m good. It’s just the first time in a long time I really thought my life could be on the line, ya know?”

“Stop here,” Derek said and Stiles pulled over.

The lights of the jeep pointed at a wooded area not too far from the school and Stiles groaned.

“Always the fucking trees,” Stiles groaned. “This is a new shirt. And there’s probably ticks.”

Stiles turned off the jeep and they got out. He walked around to the back and Derek stood close by. He opened the jeep and grabbed his bat, handing it to Derek, and pulled out a jacket, his old red one.

“The fact that that still fits you is…” Derek looked over Stiles, how he had packed muscle onto his thin frame, “crazy…”

Stiles closed the back of the jeep and took his bat back from Derek. “The fact that it has no rips or holes is crazy,” he said. Stiles started to to walk towards the trees. Derek grabbed his arm, stopping him. Stiles looked at the hand on his arm and up to Derek’s eyes. “What?”

Derek’s mouth hung open as his brain caught up to his actions. “It’s been a while since the last time we did this, so let me take the lead.”

“Only because near death is my least favorite type of experience,” Stiles agreed.

They started into the trees, arms brushing past each other as they walked. They both noticed how close they were but didn’t move away. Being close was comforting, safe. Derek was also able to keep Stiles from tripping on downed branches and holes, especially as they walked deeper into the woods.

Stiles was about to pop off some snarky comment or another when Derek stopped moving. Knowing what that meant by now, Stiles stopped too. He saw Derek tense up like a dog with its hackles raised and he tightened the grip on his bat.

“What is it, Der,” Stiles whispered, looking around for a sign of movement.

Derek started walking again, holding a hand out for Stiles to wait where he was, not that he listened. As they walked, the smell of blood got stronger and was joined by decay. Stiles grimaced, pulling his jacket up to cover his nose.

“What the fuck,” Stiles muttered, his eyes finding the source of the smell.

In front of them was a dead coyote that had been well snacked on and a flat rock with a bloody blob that the flies had taken too on top. As Derek looked over the dead coyote, Stiles inched closer to the red blob.

“It stinks of a werewolf. An omega, I’d guess,” Derek said, keeping his voice low.

“So we don’t have to worry about a pack,” Stiles asked, his voice muffled by the jacket and his pinched nose.

“No but its violent,” Derek grumbled. “It ripped out this coyote’s heart.”

The rock looked like it had been placed intentionally, almost like a table. The smell got significantly worse as he got closer. Shooing away the flies, the piece of bloody meat was revealed.

“Ah, shit,” Stiles winced. “Well, I found the heart.”

Derek was at Stiles’s side in seconds, a little closer than necessary, to look at what he’d found. They were so close that Stiles could feel his hood brushing against Derek’s shoulder. If he’d noticed, Derek didn’t move away. They’d become rather comfortable in each others personal space.

“Looks cult-ish if you ask me,” Stiles said, leaning his bat against his leg so he had free hands to pull his phone out and snap a picture. He wanted to be able to reference the details later when he did more research into types of rituals. It was the first solid lead they’d gotten so far.

Derek heard something and turned to look around. It was a small noise, like a twig snapping a ways off. It was probably just a rabbit or animal that was supposed to be out there but considering where they were… He felt on edge. They were taking a risk being out here, just the two of them. If the rouge wolf was out here and looking to pick a fight, they were open on all sides. While the dark wouldn’t effect the wolves as much, it put Stiles at a disadvantage. Derek kept looking around, listening as Stiles mumbled about what it might be and what the display could mean.

A flash of blue caught Derek’s attention. He tensed, watching closely. The blue glow settled becoming a clear set of eyes. Eyes that met Derek’s. The blood red of his own eyes showing through. They needed to leave.

He grabbed Stiles’s jacket, looking around intently. “We need to go,” he said, not giving Stiles time to react before pulling him away.

“Shit,” Stiles huffed, stumbling over his own feet. “Wait, Derek, I dropped my bat.”

“Leave it. I’ll get you a new one,” he growled, moving faster.

Derek kept looking behind them, cursing under his breath.

“What’s chasing us,” Stiles huffed, out of breath from half running, half being dragged behind Derek. He kept tripping as he tried to keep up.

At some point, he gave up on Stiles running to keep up. Derek hardly paused, throwing Stiles over his shoulder, and kept moving. They got back to the jeep in what was surely record time, even for them. Derek shoved Stiles in the passenger seat and got in the driver’s seat. He turned on the lights, watching.

“Give me the keys,” Derek said frantically, “now, Stiles!”

Derek watched the treeline carefully, growing more nervous by the second. Stiles dug through his pockets, trying to find them. Not in his jacket. Not in his back pocket. Left… Right… Right!

“Keys,” Stiles shouted, shoving them into Derek’s hand.

He shoved the keys in the ignition and started the jeep. The engine clicked as he turned the key, not starting.

“Come on, Roscoe” Stiles mumbled, looking between he trees and Derek. “Come on. Come on— OH FUCK,” he yelled, watching as a dark shape came running out of the trees.

The engine turned over, starting just in time. Derek threw the jeep in reverse, cursing the clutch as he slowly sped up.

“It’s catching up,” Stiles said, watching the werewolf following them while Derek watched behind them, driving in reverse as fast as he could.

When they got to the first intersection, Derek used the opportunity to whip the jeep around. He turned hard, shifting to neutral to control the spin. He shifted into drive and took off.

Stiles sat in the passenger seat, looking at Derek. “Where the fuck did you learn that,” he asked, not sure if he was terrified or turned on. Maybe a little bit of both…

“I was on the run from the FBI,” Derek said, keeping an eye on the dark road behind them.

Derek had deemed it important that they figure out what was going on tonight and make a game plan. They had been too close to the werewolf and it now had their scents. It knew who they were.

They picked up Eli and made their way to Stiles’s apartment. It wasn’t far from where Derek’s loft had been years before, meaning it wasn’t exactly the most secure area. Nonetheless, Stiles taught Eli to play chess while Derek went out to get stuff for dinner since Stiles’s fridge was near empty– that tended to happen when they ate at Derek’s as much as they had been.

Elli got bored well before Derek got back so Stiles handed over his switch. With Eli sufficiently distracted, Stiles pulled the hanging cork board out, using a map of the town to pinpoint the recent troubles of Beacon Hills. Things just didn’t seem to line up. Stiles looked at the map of where the animals had been left: his dad’s house, the grocery store, the diner, the police station, the elementary school, the pool, the hospital, Deaton’s vet office… The places where the dead animals were appearing didn’t have an obvious pattern.

When Derek got back with groceries, he found Stiles looking between his laptop and the cork board and Eli playing on the switch in the other room.

“Did you figure anything out,” Derek asked, setting the bags on the counter.

Stiles hummed, not really in agreement or disagreement, more in the way of acknowledging he heard but was too preoccupied to answer. Derek rolled his eyes at the response and started cooking, waiting for Stiles to pull his mind out of the research.

Derek was almost done cooking when Stiles seemed to come out of the digital world with a start.

“I feel like I’m going crazy,” Stiles said, his eyes finding Derek in the kitchen. “I mean, there’s a lot of rituals surrounding the heart, and I mean a lot but nothing that this matches. There was not runes, not pictures, nothing! Plus, a lot of rituals that we would actually need to worry about require a human heart and I’m pretty sure that was the coyote’s heart!”

Derek remembered the smell, well. He waited for the break in words before adding, “it was the coyote’s heart.”

“Great, then what the fuck is going on,” Stiles asked rhetorically.

“Stiles, you can’t say that! That’s a bad word,” Eli said, looking between Derek and Stiles wide eyed. “I’m joking. I know you say bad words. So does dad,” he said, walking over to the table.

Derek looked down at the counter, taking a deep breath, before looking at Stiles. “That’s your fault,” he said as Stiles tried not to laugh. “You think it’s funny? Then you get to deal with that when he’s a teenager.”

Stiles scoffed. “Oh, please. I have heard enough from Cora and Peter to know you were a handful in high school, too.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response other than to say, they are both unreliable narrators,” Derek argued, turning to get Eli’s plate which consisted mac and cheese and hot dogs– seemingly the only thing the kid ate. “Eat your food and then grab your book out of your backpack. You’ve had more than enough video game time.”

“Jeez, dad, you’re so boring,” Stiles mumbled, making Eli smile. “Listen to your dad, Eli. You don’t want to make him mad. Trust me, I know. I used to make him really mad a lot.”

“Used to,” Derek shot back questioningly.

“Yup, because now you willingly come over and cook me dinner,” Stiles said with a grin. “I annoyed you until you l—” He cut his words short, making eye contact with Derek. He seemed amused, though it didn’t look all that different from his normal unamused face. “Alright, Eli. You have to tell us all about your day now,” Stites said, moving to sit at the table with Eli while Derek finished cooking.

Scott finally called back and Stiles started to explain what was going on, having to switch to a video call so Scott could get the “full understanding” with the help of the cork board he had set up in the middle of his apartment.

“Then Derek and I found the dead coyote in the trees by Eli’s school and its heart had been ripped out and displayed on a rock like it was a table! I was trying to look up what might be happening but it didn’t have any of the needed symbols or killing method for a ritual sacrifice,” Stiles explained, seeing Derek walk to the kitchen out of the corner of his eye.

“Have you stopped to think that I might be right,” Scott asked. “If it doesn’t seem like a ritual, then it might just be some teenagers who—”

“What about the deer, Scott? That was planned. It wanted us to go looking,” Stiles argued. “So, I did some more research and I kept seeing stuff about how killing and offering food is a pretty normal habit when it comes to mating behaviors in predators and— oh, thanks Der,” Stiles said, stopping his ramble to take the pate of food from Derek.

“Eli’s asleep in your room,” Derek said, casting a quick glare at Scott on the computer screen.

“Shit, am I being too loud? I didn’t wake him up, did I,” Stiles asked with a mouth full of food.

Derek shook his head, looking over Stiles and then the board. “Not yet. You should have just used my office. The house was build with werewolf hearing in mind.”

Stiles nodded, “I know but I didn’t want to make a mess—”

“Swallow before you talk,” Derek grumbled, a mix of disgust and humor in his voice.

Stiles rolled his eyes, swallowing the mouthful of food that would rival Scooby Doo. “Mine, Dad. Don’t ground me,” he joked, meeting Derek’s eyes.

Something in the way Derek looked at him made his stomach feel like it was trying to digest itself. They had become close. Sharing a meal and spending time at each other’s place had become normal. Derek and Eli had become a big part of Stiles’s life

“Uh, guys,” Scott said awkwardly after a long stretch of, what was for him, very uncomfortable silence.

Stiles’s eye snapped to his computer, remembering that Scott was, in fact, still on the phone. He held the plate out to Derek, nearly choking on the food still in his mouth as he tried to start talking again as if nothing had happened.

Derek put Stiles’s plate on the table next to his own. He sat down to eat, his eyes casting up to watch Stiles’s wild gesturing as he explained his theories to Scott. Quick glances at Stiles soon turned into outright staring. Derek shook his head, going back to eating, and if a small smile found it’s way to his lips, then so be it.

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Stiles found himself laying on his couch, wanting nothing more than to crash but his apartment felt too empty and quiet. Derek had taken Eli home to go to bed a few hours ago, leaving everything simultaneously too quiet and too loud at the same time. He liked having them around, it made the apartment feel less lonely.

He was trying to gather the energy to peel himself off the couch for a shower when the doorbell buzzed it’s broken noise.

Stiles sat up in surprise. Who the fuck would be ringing the doorbell at– he looked at the time– one in the god damned morning? Anyone who he’d expect knew the doorbell was crap and both his dad and Derek had a key– for ‘emergencies’ only– and would normally just knock before walking in.

He got up, going to grab his bat and remembering it was gone. He mentally cursed, feeling a bit like a sitting duck without it. He walked closer to the door and looked out the peephole but nobody was there. That didn’t sit well with him. Stiles made sure the door was locked and decided this was worth having a weapon in case shit went sideways.

When he returned to the door with his gun– the one assigned to him as a deputy– he looked through the peephole again and, again, there was nobody. He unlocked the door, opening it slowly. His stomach dropped when the door’s movement made something wooden fall. His bat.

Stiles looked around cautiously before kneeling to grab the bat and closing the door to his apartment quickly. Relocking the door, he set his gun down on the counter and looked over the bat. It was his all right, the wear and tear proved that. He turned it over in his hands, finding a heart carved into it. He looked at it closer, tracing it with his finger. It was roughly carved and had jagged edges, like it had been done with claws instead of a knife. Comparing it with the other damage on the bat only seemed to confirm the unsettling conclusion.

Almost on instinct, he called Derek.

“You’ll never guess what just appeared outside my door,” Stiles said. He was met by silence so he kept talking. “Either I’m a wizard and learned how to summon things without words or our new buddy returned my bat. And, get this, carved a heart into it.”

Stiles heard a heavy breath and sheets ruffling on the other end. “Are you okay,” Derek asked, his voice rough with sleep.

“Fuck, did I wake you up,” Stiles cringed, looking at the time again. “Sorry, Der. I’m fine. It’s all good, just a little odd.”

Derek sighed and the sheets ruffled again. “Do you want to stay here,” he asked and Stiles’s stomach did flips.

“No, I’ll be okay,” Stiles said, running a hand through his hair. “Just thought you’d want to know I had a visitor.”

“You should—” Derek yawned— “mountain ash the doors and windows.”

Stiles nodded, grabbing his gun and walking to his bookshelf in search of the little box. “Doing it now. I’ll call you in the morning. You’ll be the first one I tell if I die.”

Derek hummed. “Bye Stiles.”

“Bye Der,” Stiles mumbled, hanging up.

Without Derek on the other end of the phone, Stiles was suddenly hyper aware of how alone he was. Of how dark his apartment was. He opened the box and took a handful of mountain ash and set the box back on the shelf.

Something in the back of his head screamed he was in danger, telling him not to turn around. He could hear how his heart rate picked up and how his breathing matched it. He felt like someone was watching him.

Stiles took a breath and flipped off the safety his gun, biting back the fear.

“Alright, motherfucker. I have mountain ash, a gun loaded with wolfsbane bullets, and an itchy trigger finger. I’d suggest not fucking with me, tonight,” Stiles said.

The words wouldn’t due much but it made him feel better, less like he was being watched.

He spun around, making a visual sweep of the room. His apartment was so quiet he could hear his own pulse. Looking around, he remembered just how many windows he had. Any other time, the light would be great but right now it had him cursing under his breath. He kept the safety off as he spread the mountain ash across every entry to the apartment. He also did his bedroom and closet doors for good measure. Before he went to bed, he flicked on all the lights to do one more sweep, including checking under his bed.

He felt a little childish when he laid down but it was good for his sanity.

Stiles woke up to his phone ringing and banging on his front door. He sat up groggily, having only gotten a few hours of sleep. He grabbed his phone and walked to his front door. He opened the door, finding Derek. He tried to walk it and got knocked on his ass by the mountain ash barrier.

“Fuck, sorry,” Stiles mumbled, kicking the ash and helping Derek up. “Are you okay?”

“Are you,” Derek asked, sounding almost out of breath. He grabbed Stiles’s arms as if to make sure he was really there and in one piece. He looked panicked, still in his bed clothes.

“Ya, I’m good,” Stiles mumbled. “I’m fucking exhausted, though. Why’d you wake me up?”

Derek looked at Stiles like he was crazy. “You called me last night saying you had a— visitor,” he whispered the last word, pulling Stiles back into the apartment.

He closed the door behind them, not letting go of Stiles. Derek’s eyes looked Stiles’s over, making sure he wasn’t hurt. Somehow, the fact the Stiles wasn’t wearing a shirt didn’t cross his mind and neither did their proximity. Derek had pulled Stiles closer when they moved inside. There was hardly a foot of distance between them. It would have been so easy to just lean in…

Derek let go of Stiles, chewing his lip as the thoughts stuck around, and started to walk around the apartment, looking at each window.

Stiles felt like he was still dreaming. None of the last few seconds made sense outside of being a dream. By the time he looked up, Derek was walking further into the apartment. “Hey, my bedroom—” Stiles sighed, watching Derek bounce off yet another mountain ash barrier. “Too late.”

Stiles walked over, breaking the ash line so Derek could walk through. He nervously watched as Derek searched for any sign of the other werewolf. He didn’t find anything and walked back over to Stiles.

“All clear,” he asked and Derek nodded, once more in his personal space. “Great. Can I—”

“Where’s the bat,” Derek asked.

Stiles blinked trying to remember. “Uh, by the door, I think. Where it usually is.”

Derek turned and walked off. Stiles, not having anything else to do, followed him. Derek picked up the bat, examining it.

“Like I said, it’s my bat,” Stiles shrugged, crossing his arms. “They carved a heart into it but— AH! You just broke my bat,” Stiles said in disbelief, staring at Derek who had half the bat in each hand. “That was my fucking bat!”

Derek growled, throwing the broken pieces in the trash. “I already told you, I’ll get you a new one.”

“I don’t want a new bat. I want my bat,” Stiles objected. “I went to hell and back with that thing! It has a burnt chunk from Parish! A ring from the ghost rider’s lasso! Claw marks from– well– everything! I think you even put some marks on it.”

Derek grabbed Stiles’s flailing hands, holding them tightly in his. “Stiles,” he said firmly, standing so close they were practically on top of of each other, “you don’t want it anymore.” His tone reminded Stiles of how he’d explain to Eli something he wanted was dangerous. That same mix of worry and stress and fear he’d end up hurt in Derek’s voice. “You don’t take anything it gives you or it will follow you. Accepting the gifts is accepting it.”

From then on, both Stiles and Derek were on high alert. This wolf had found where Stiles lived, had gotten into the apartment building, and all the way to Stiles’s door. If it had wanted to do something, it could have. If it wanted to get in, it would have. Sure, Stiles wasn’t helpless but he also wasn’t prepared for a random attack. And, personally, Stiles really didn’t feel like having to defend his life in his boxers.

It became a routine. Every night, Stiles would call Derek when he got off work and headed home, talking to him as he checked his apartment and laid down mountain ash. Every morning, Derek would swing by Stiles’s apartment before Stiles would leave for his shift. Every morning he found nothing. There was no sign nor scent of the other wolf. It seemed to be weighing on Derek. Each day he looked more tired than the last.

Derek glared at the large windows in Stiles’s bedroom, one which that let out to the fire escape. “I don’t like this,” he grumbled.

“I’m not the biggest fan of it either, Der,” Stiles mumbled, only half awake. “I’m fucking exhausted because all of my dreams– nightmares, really– have been about getting mauled in my sleep. You're back to being your old self, meaning you growl at anything that breathes wrong and—”

“I meant the fire escape,” Derek snapped and Stiles had to remind himself that pissed off Derek was, in fact, not attractive. “Easy access for anyone willing to come looking.”

“So, the shit you used to pull,” Stiles asked, teasingly. Normally Derek would take it in good humor and throw something similar back at him. “You do remember that the fact that my bedroom window at dad's house wouldn’t lock was your fault?”

Derek glared at Stiles, not in the mood for jokes. “If you remember, I fixed it. Just like I fixed your jeep.”

“Why are you so pissed off,” Stiles asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I thought we were past the whole taking your anger out on innocent parties thing?”

“Shut up,” Derek growled, walking back towards the living room.

Stiles, gritted his teeth, pretending to strangle Derek as he walked away. He followed Derek to the living room

“You’re being a fucking asshole, you know that,” Stiles huffed. Derek turned to glare at him. Not attractive. Nope. Not at all. “I didn’t do anything to deserve you treating me like a clueless teenager all over again. Go be shitty to Peter, he more than deserves it!”

“Peter has been watching Eli,” Derek said. “I come here before he wakes up and I go on patrol after he’s asleep. Someone has to watch him.”

“What about Cora,” Stiles asked.

“She’s already gone. Can’t stand to be in here more than a few days,” Derek grumbled, the hurt of his sister leaving over and over thinly veiled.

“You’ve go to be fucking kidding, right? Of course she can’t stand it here! I’m surprised you can,” Stiles said. “I mean, after every shitty thing this town has thrown at you, why do you stay? What about Eli?”

“Eli is fine,” Derek growled.

“What makes you so sure,” Stiles asked. “I mean, I doubt you ever thought what happened to your family would happen and your pack—”

Derek shoved Stiles against the wall, holding him there. “Stop. Talking.” Stiles could see the anger in Derek’s eyes but he could see the hurt behind it too.

He was trying to meet Derek’s eyes but his lips were distracting. They were so close, he could feel Derek’s breath, pulling Stiles’s eyes lower. This isn’t attractive, he reminded himself. Fuck, he felt like a stupid hormonal teenager again. He was too caught in his own reaction to notice Derek’s very similar one.

“A bit familiar, isn’t this,” Stiles asked in a whisper. There was no need to be louder with how close they were. “Earth to Derek. Are you planning to kiss me or kill me? Shoving me against the wall is giving mixed signals.”

Derek didn’t say anything, rather he furrowed his brow in what was somewhere between constipation and thinking which Stiles knew was reserved for things he refused to talk about. He let go of Stiles, backing up to straighten his jacket. Derek looked out the window, gathering his thoughts, and Stiles waited expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” Derek grumbled.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “That’s it,” he asked. “You pull out the old douche-bag act on someone who is supposed to be your friend and all you say is sorry? Not even going to record it? Grab a ukulele and make a sorry-not-sorry type song?”

Derek huffed a laugh and looked at Stiles, “what do you want, a cake?”

“Actually, yes! Apology baked goods would be great,” Stiles said, crossing his arms. “Now, why are you acting all,” he gestured to Derek, “weird? Is it lack of sleep because, seriously Der, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” Derek grumbled.

“Dude, call into work for a day. You look exhausted and it’s not like you’re going to fire yourself for it,” Stiles said.

“I said, I’m fine,” Derek repeated. “And don’t call me dude.”

“I don’t believe you,” Stiles said stubbornly. “Go home, take Eli to school, and get some sleep.”

“Stiles—”

“Derek, we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he said, crossing his arms. “Try me. I have wolfsbane and mountain ash. You’ll get some sleep one way or another.”

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Stiles walked out of the police station, heading to the jeep after a shit load of paper work. He was so tired, his eyes were starting to blur and it was already getting dark. He wanted to kick himself for parking the jeep in the back lot as the cold wind bit at his skin. It was a long cold walk to the jeep.

When his eyes found the jeep he groaned. “Fuck me,” he grumbled, staring at what he was 90% sure was blood on the hood and a bag of something.

How the fuck was this his life? He trudged closer and, upon closer inspection, found the blood streaks formed a heart. The bag sat in the middle of the heart and was soaked in blood. Stiles ran a hand through his hair, feeling like pulling it out. Instead, he pulled out his phone and took a picture, sending it to Derek.

Stiles used a pen to drag the bag off the hood and onto the ground. He grabbed a water bottle out of the jeep and stabbed a hole it the lid. He sprayed the water on the hood, getting most of the blood off. It made him uncomfortable that it came off so easily, it meant it was fresh. He debated if it would be worse to look in the bag or toss it and go on not knowing. Stiles decided to look, the anxiety that it could be– like– his dad’s severed fingers winning over the risk of being seen as ‘accepting’ the gift.

He grabbed the top of the bag, trying to touch it as little as possible. Inside was a pile of wolfsbane flowers, a folded piece of paper, and a ring coated in dirt and dried blood.

Stiles unfolded the paper, reading it. His eyes went wide and he shoved it all back in the bag and threw it in the jeep.

He jumped in and called Derek. He started to drive, impatiently waiting for Derek to answer the phone.

“Stiles? What’s going on,” Derek asked tiredly, his recent habit on twenty hour days wearing on him.

“I found a little gift display in the jeep after I left work,” Stiles told him. “I think out forest friend likes me.”

“What kind of gift,” Derek asked, feeling frozen in place. Stiles could heard the stress in his voice.

“Well, it drew a heart on my hood in what I assume was it’s own blood since it picked me lovely bouquet of wolfsbane flowers. It wrote me an interesting poem— the kind a stalker would leave– and, oh ya, a fucking engagement ring!”

“Come here. It could follow you home,” Derek told him.

“What about Eli,” Stiles asked, driving away from the station lest his new buddy be hanging around still.

“I’ll call Peter,�� Derek said without hesitation. He had to be worried if he was willing to ask Peter for help. “It’s less likely to do something in my house.”

Stiles made the turn for Derek’s house. “Ya, okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Derek said. He’d wait for Stiles. He’d wait in more ways than he’d admit.

Stiles didn’t hang up. He didn’t have anything more to say, he just didn’t want to. Derek didn’t hang up either. They just let the silence rest between them as Stiles drove. Stiles didn’t hang up until he was pulling into the driveway.

Derek walked over to the jeep, opening the door for Stiles. He took the bloody bag from Stiles’s hands and stayed close as he got out. He kept a hand on Stiles’s back as they walked to the front door.

Once Stiles was inside, Derek stopped and looked around. They were being watched and it wasn’t happy but neither was he. Derek walked inside, locking the door behind him. If it wanted a fight, it’d be on Derek’s terms.

Stiles was pacing in the living room, his hands visibly shaking. He was freaking out, piecing things together in his head. All the dead animals were found in places he went to. There were dead animals at the grocery store he went to but not the one across town. They were found at the diner but not that chinese place he refused to go to. They were found at Eli’s school, at the police station, all along Stiles’s patrol route, everywhere he went regularly.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly, dropping the bag on the coffee table. It was like he hadn’t said anything, like Stiles didn’t hear him. “Stiles,” he said more firmly, walking closer to him. He touched Stiles’s arm and finally got his attention.

He was looking at Derek with wide eyes. Before Derek could say anything, Stiles started to ramble. “It’s me. I’m the pattern. That’s why it was at my apartment and I keep finding the dead animals. It’s after me and I came here. It could have followed me. What if it followed me? What if it tries something? What about Eli? Fuck, Eli’s not safe with me. Not safe with me here. What if it tries to hurt Eli because of me? What if it hurts you? I can’t stay here! I can’t go to my dad’s! I’m putting everyone in danger. I have to leave. Derek, it—”

“Stiles,” Derek said, grabbing Stiles by his arms to hold him in place. “Breathe. It’s not going to come in here. It’d have to be insane and damn near suicidal to challange me in my own home.”

The smell of anxiety and guilt circled Stiles like a hurricane. The smell was bitter, it stung Derek’s nose. He hated when Stiles got worked up like this. He swore Stiles’s chemosignals were stronger than other people’s. Stiles didn’t know the definition of the word subtle and neither did his emotions. He felt things in the extreme or not at all. Derek could never decide if it was the ADHD or if it was just who Stiles was. Maybe it wasn’t either, maybe Derek was just paying too much attention to him. Stiles met Derek’s eyes and the swirl of emotion started to dissipate.

It was leaving dead animals all along Stiles’s path except at Derek’s shop and Derek’s house. It never got close or left ‘gifts’ when he was with Derek. It was everywhere… except where Derek was.

“It’s after me but wonn’t come near you,” Stiles said. “Oh, I bet it’s real pissed off right now…”

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Stiles felt calm for the first time in weeks. It was just him, Eli, and Derek having a movie night like they normally would.

They'd made homemade pizza– aka they made the dough from a packet and added the toppings themselves instead of a frozen one– for dinner and made popcorn afterwards. Eli had picked out a movie and they'd all sat on the couch together like normal. Eli didn't even make it through the first half of the movie before falling asleep, leaning on Stiles.

Stiles played with Eli’s hair as he slept, watching the movie in the brief moment of peace. He wanted to keep these memories forever, the times where everything just felt right. With Eli asleep tucked into his side and Derek quietly laughing at the movie. If it could last forever, he'd happily deal with the popcorn kernels stuck in his teeth. It was moments like that when it all seemed to make sense.

When the movie ended, Derek got up and took their mugs to the kitchen. He came back with fresh tea for Stiles and himself. He started another movie and sat down on the couch again.

“I’ve missed doing this,” Stiles said. “Things have been too…”

“Too much like the past,” Derek offered.

“Ya. Reminiscent but not in a good way,” Stiles decided.

Derek hummed, pulling Eli’s blanket up. “We all needed this. A night where things are back to normal,” he sighed, pushing Eli’s hair off his face.

Eli’s nose scrunched in his sleep and he turned his head into Stiles, curling in closer.

Stiles’s smiled, wrapping an arm around the sleeping kid. “It’s weird to think that this is our normal now. I mean, you’re a dad. I’m a cop. Scott’s in LA doing god knows what. Scott used to be my best friend and now I couldn’t even tell you the street he lives on but I could find your house blindfolded,” he huffed, trying to laugh it off. “It’s crazy to think that, out of everything, you and Eli are the most important things in my life,” he said, the words coming out before he could think them through. “Shit, sorry, That was weird.”

“You and Eli,” Derek said, nodding. “You two are the most important parts of my life.”

Stiles looked at Derek. He felt like his heart was going to explode. “Really? Not Cora or Malia or even Peter?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Stiles, do you realize how much of an impact you’ve made on my life? You’ve helped me raise Eli. When I bought the garage, you watched Eli every day so I could get things sorted out.”

“What else where you going to do,” Stiles asked, brushing it off. “He was, what, one?”

“Eli and I lived in your apartment when construction on this house got delayed and then you helped us move in here.”

“Well, ya. Keeping a three-year-old were-toddler in a hotel would have sucked and you needed help,” Stiles shrugged.

“You call in favors and switch your shifts around whenever I need you to pick Eli up from school or drop him off,” Derek says “You bought him toys and games that stay at your apartment or your dad’d house.”

“My dad loves Eli! He says he gets to have all the fun of having a kid without the hard parts.”

“Eli calls your dad grandpa,” Derek said, not sure how Stiles kelp acting like this was all nothing.

Stiles paused. “Okay, you got me on that one… Why are you bringing this all up?”

“I just…” Derek stared back at Stiles, not sure what to say. He didn’t want to ruin everything but, he wondered, would saying it really ruin anything? “I don’t think you understand how important you are.” Maybe later. Maybe he could say it when things weren’t so… heavy.

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Stiles was staring at his laptop screen when he felt a person behind him. He was in the middle of typing something out, not at a point where he could stop, and gave an acknowledging hum when a hand rested on the back of his chair. They didn’t say anything, waiting for Stiles to stop typing.

“Hey, Der. I didn’t hear you come in,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair. He practically jumped out of his skin when he looked up. He did jump out of the chair, staring at what was not Derek and was most definitely the werewolf they’d been attempting to track. “You’re not Derek.”

The werewolf’s smile fell. “Why do you always bring him up,” it growled. “You should forget about him. You don’t need him. You need me.”

“What,” Stiles asked, trying to move towards his bookshelf where his box of mountain ash sat.

The werewolf growled and rushed to grab Stiles. It grabbed him by the neck, shoving him against the bookshelf. Stiles winced, the wooded shelves pushing into his back.

Stiles’s hand reached out, trying for the box of mountain ash just out of reach. The werewolf snatched Stiles’s wrist, slamming it against the wooded bookshelf. Stiles lost his breath at the sharp pain, near certain his wrist was broken.

“Don’t do that. Don’t try to keep me out again. I don’t like it when you do that.” Its expression softened into a grin, a calloused finger running along Stiles’s face. “So pretty. My pretty boy,” it cooed. “I finally got you alone without that nuisance. I have you all to myself.”

“What do you want,” Stiles choked up.

The werewolf smiled. “What do I want? I want you, silly. You’re mine and that mut of yours was keeping you from me. Don’t worry your pretty head about it. Nothing can stop love, not even your pet.”

“You mean Derek?”

“Him and his half-breed,” it hummed, their fingers tightening around Stiles’s neck in their anger. “They’ll never love you like I do, nobody ever will and if he’d kept out of it, we would have been together sooner.” Their grip loosened as Stiles started to turn red from the lack of oxygen. “Oh, sorry my love. I don’t mean to be too rough on you. You really shouldn’t anger me, though.”

“What’d you do to them,” Stiles hissed.

“Nothing, yet,” the wolf growled it’s grip around Stiles’s neck tightening, cutting off his air, “but if you keep bringing them up I might. You might as well forget about them now, got it?”

Stiles bit his tongue, nodding, and the grip around his neck loosened.

“Good, because in the morning we’re getting far away from here and them,” the wolf said, sounding pleased. “As for now, well, I think I’ve been very patient with you. I brought you food and gifts. I’m even willing to forgive you for ignoring me. Isn’t that so kind of me?” The wolf licked it’s lips, “you ought to be thankful. You can show me how thankful you are, can’t you?”

“I’d rather eat glass,” Stiles sneered.

“We can arrange that,” the wolf growled, its claws breaking the skin of Stiles’s neck. It let go of Stiles’s wrist, giving his a second of reprieve, before using its full strength to throw his across the room.

“You want to fight, let’s fight, but I promise you’ll regret it,” the wolf said and Stiles scrambled to his feet.

He didn’t have many options. He was down to his left had, his right wrist aching like a son of a bitch and already swelling. The wolf was between Stiles and his room, meaning no chance at the mountain ash or getting his gun. He could try for the kitchen knifes or the front door but the werewolf was faster and stronger than him.

Stiles felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He had his phone. If he could unlock it, he might be able to call someone or—

“Hey siri, call Derek Hale,” Stiles said, watching as the wolf in front of him’s eye went wide.

“Fucking whore! Calling your mutt when I’m right here,” it yelled, charging at Stiles again.

“Stiles?”

“Fuck,” Stiles muttered, trying to keep distance. “Derek, it’s here. I need h—” Stiles was cut short by a hand around his throat.

“Bad decision,” the wolf growled, taking Stiles’s phone and crushing it. “Now you’ll get to watch me kill you’re little play thing. How fucking disgusting can you be, using him for safety and running off when you don’t need him. Toying with him and his kid like you have any right to them. All in front of me, too. Just to show off that you have him wrapped around your finger,” the wolf growled, trapping Stiles against the kitchen counter.

“He loves you and you use it. You take and you take and you take like you deserve it. Someone you acts like you doesn't deserve anything. Don’t worry, I know how to deal with spoiled brats like you,” it said with a sick grin. “Why don’t we have some fun while we wait for your big bad wolf to come save you?”

“Eat mistletoe and live, bitch,” Stiles choked out.

He reached behind him and grabbed a glass vial. He shoved it in the wolf’s mouth. In the moment of surprise, it’s grip on Stiles’s neck loosed. Stiles took the opportunity to headbut the wolf, breaking the glass vial full of powdered mistletoe in its mouth.

The wolf coughed, trying to breath and sucked in a mouth full of glass and poison.

Stiles scrambled to his bedroom, grabbing his gun. He heard a loud crash and turned, pointing the gun at the doorway. In the low light from the window, he saw a figure in the doorway. The lights were flicked on, blinding Stiles. Before his sight came back, the gun was out of his hands and he was wrapped in a tight hug.

“GET THE FU—”

“Stiles…”

“Derek?”

He held Stiles tighter. “You’re okay,” Derek whispered.

“I’m mostly okay,” Stiles said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt his pain starting to be leached away. “Oh shit,” he mumbled, loosing his feet but Derek held him up.

“Wait,” Stiles pulled away, “what about—”

“Drowning in his own blood,” Derek said plainly.

“I need be sure,” Stiles said, nerves clear in his voice.

He took his gun, holding it in his left hand and leading the way back to the kitchen.

Sure enough, there the werewolf was, laying on the floor. It had managed to roll onto its side, managing to get some air as the blood dripped from its mouth. Stiles scowled down at the wolf, kicking it onto its back. It coughed as blood filled it’s mouth again, the blood splattering back onto its face and the floor. It gargled on the blood, trying to get air.

It tried to reach for Stiles and Derek pulled him away, growling possessively. Breathing in the mountain ash made it too weak to move much more.

“Can you call Deaton,” Stiles asked. “I’d rather not have this creep here any longer than need be.”

The wolf smiled, coughing up more blood as it tried to laugh. “Told you… just a stupid pet…”

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Derek took Stiles to the emergency room and, sure enough, his wrist was broken. After getting a few splinters pulled out and a cast, they deemed Stiles free to go.

That night, Derek had let Stiles stay at his house. The guest room had already been made and Derek had brought him food. Stiles just laid in the bed, unable to sleep. He was paranoid something was going to happen, that the windows weren’t properly locked of warded. The room was silent, there was no noise from the outside world. While that might be great and all at any other time, it made Stiles feel completely alone. The half drawn blackout curtains made it dark, even in the day.

It felt isolating but Stiles was frozen in place, unable to change it. He didn’t sleep at all that night.

Derek came in at some point in the morning and brought him food.

“Did you sleep at all,” Derek asked, keeping his voice low. Stiles didn’t answer, staring blankly up at Derek.

What if they were right? Did Derek love him? Could he? Could anyone really love him? He was so fucked up after everything that had happened as a teen, was loveable? Did he love Derek? Of course he did. He’d always found Derek attractive and the friendship they’d build in the past years made him love Derek. He wasn’t sure what would be more painful: loving Derek and not being loved back or knowing he’d been hurting Derek with his ignorance.

“You can stay here as long as you need,” Derek told him, setting the plate of food on the nightstand. He started to ask something else but thought better, not wanting to make things worse. “There’s clothes in the dresser, just stuff you’ve left here. The bathroom is— well, you know where it is— but you can use it anytime. Uhm…” Why was he lingering? Derek sighed. “Do you want the door open or closed?”

If Derek did love him, had he been blind to it? How would he have not caught on? They were always together. He’d basically helped raise Eli in the last years and— Oh. Oh…

Stiles looked at Derek. He had said something, asked something? He was waiting for an answer…

“I’ll leave it open and you can close it if you want,” Derek finally said. “I’ll let you have some space now…”

Derek left the room, leaving the door open behind him. Stiles could hear him walk away. He heard him go down the stairs. He heard Eli digging in his Legos in the next room. He heard Eli laugh at a show he was watching. Hearing them, knowing he wasn’t alone, felt like a wave of relief washing over him and Stiles was finally able to sleep.

When he woke up, Stiles saw a tuft of hair at the edge of his bed. His heart was in his throat, too scared to move. He shifted slightly, moving the blankets. It must have startled the person at the edge of the bed as they turned to look at him.

Eli smiled up at Stiles from his spot on the floor. “Hi sleepyhead,” he said with a smile. He made quick work of climbing into the bed and getting comfortable, unplugging his headphones from the tablet so Stiles could hear.

Derek was at the door seconds later, he sighed when he saw both Eli and Stiles safe. “Eli,” he huffed, “I told you to stay to let Stiles sleep.”

“I didn’t wake him up. I waited right there on the floor,” he said firmly, frowning up at his dad. Little Eli was giving his dad the full force of the patented Hale look. Looking between Derek and Eli, the resemblance was clear. Derek had a little copy of himself but that sass was definitely Stiles’s influence. Eli had technically done what he was told and that was close enough.

“Come on, Eli. Let Stiles sleep,” Derek said, returning Eli’s frown.

Stiles saw himself in Eli’s personality. He’d taught him that– even if by accident– because he had helped take care of him. Derek trusted Stiles enough to help take care of Eli, to help raise him. That part of Eli was his doing.

“He’s okay,” Stiles mumbled, tucking a lose strand of hair behind Eli’s ear.

Derek looked surprised, happy maybe, hearing Stiles talk. He hoped it meant the shock was passing. “Okay,” he said. Derek relaxed, kissing the top of Eli’s head and turning to leave. He stopped in the doorway, watching Stiles and Eli.

Eli pressed play on an episode of Miraculous Ladybug. They’d watched it before but Eli liked rewatching them. Stiles wrapped an arm around Eli, keeping him close. Having Eli there, doing something they normally do, felt comfortable.

He was comfortable with Derek and Eli but not with being alone. He didn’t know what that said about him. Maybe he was too dependent on them. Maybe he was just trying to get over being stalked and physically assaulted when he was alone. Whatever it was, having Eli and Derek around felt normal and Stiles could really use normal at the moment.

It took Stiles a while to pull himself out of bed for more than a few minute to use the bathroom. When he did, he wanted to shower.

He opened the dresser drawer and, like Derek said, there were his clothes. They were neatly folded and stacked with care. He pulled some clothes out, looking them over. He hadn’t seen this shirt in weeks. He must have left it here. When was the last time he wore it? Maybe the last time they took Eli hiking? But that a while ago. How long had his clothes been here, neatly folded like this? When did Derek take the time to do all of this?

Stiles bundled up his change of clothes, venturing out of the guest room and into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and set his clothes on the counter. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror reminded him how badly he needed to shower. His hair was greasy and stuck up every which way. The cut on his face had dried blood coating it.

He turned the water on, letting it get warm, and opened the closet. His hand fell to the third shelf were the towels were kept. He paused. Had he really done this enough times to know exactly where the towels were? He used to give Eli baths when he was younger and would go to the pool with him and Derek a lot. Stiles shook himself out of it and took the towel, hanging it by the shower.

He stripped off his clothes, casually throwing them in the laundry hamper. Again, he wondered when that had become a habit. How many times had he just tossed his clothes in with Derek’s and Eli’s?

Stiles adjusted the water temperature and got in, sighing as the water washed over him. The warm water felt good on his skin. He felt himself relax, letting the water run over his shoulders and back. He grabbed a bottle of soap– his soap, the same brand, scent, and everything– and put it on a loofah– his loofah that stayed here. His preferred soap was in the shower along with a loofah that was his. He would often shower here to save time before going out to eat or to a movie with Derek and Eli and, sometimes, his dad. How had he never noticed before?

Stiles finished showering and dried off. He pulled on his clothes and opened the drawer on the far left of the sink. He pulled out a box of new toothbrushes Derek kept around. Stiles thought about how he knew where to find it so quickly as he put toothpaste on. As he brushed his teeth, he mentally listed things and surprised himself by knowing exactly where it would be in the bathroom.

When Stiles ventured downstairs, he found Derek and Eli in the living room, each doing their own thing. Derek was reading a book and Eli was putting together a puzzle– or they were until they noticed Stilles walking into the living room. Derek looked at him, his expression changing just the tiniest bit but Stiles knew it was a smile. Stiles returned the look and sat on the couch. He looked to the side, finding his stress ball sitting on the end table.

This was his spot. He always sat here or laid down on the couch. He knew that there would be a weighted blanket in coffee table cabinet if he wanted it– they kept it around for him. He looked at the shelf of movies, finding the random movies he’d gotten to watch with Eli and Derek, some just for him and Derek. Those movies were there because of him, so many things were there because of him.

Derek went to the kitchen some time after and Eli went back to his room to play with Legos, leaving Stiles in the living room. He stood up and stretched, wandering into the kitchen. He watched as Derek set a cup of tea on the counter, just in front of Stiles’s usual spot. It would be green tea, like usual. It was Derek’s small way of trying to get him to make healthier choices, like their cooking. Derek would add Stiles to their meals to keep him from eating Ramen and frozen burritos for every meal.

Stiles sat at the counter, smiling to himself. Maybe what happened wasn’t all bad; it made him aware of the things he did so easily. It reminded him of where he was and what those around him did. He was seeing all the things he and Eli and Derek did for each other.

It was nice to know a place for him had been carved out here even in the small ways. It was like seeing their relationship from a different perspective. He could see how people thought him and Derek were dating. It made him wonder if Derek ever thought about his as more than a friend, Stiles did.

He thought about what it would be like if him and Derek were a couple. He thought about how everything would change. Thinking about it now, Stiles realized it really wouldn’t change that much about them. They already spent most of their free time together. They already made dinner and went shopping together. They already had movie nights curled up on the couch together. They already went hiking and swimming together. They’d taken day trips to the beach together. They felt safer together. Hell, the only things that would change is that he might stay the night, that he could kiss Derek, and that he didn’t have to keep denying how he felt about it.

“What’s got you thinking so hard,” Derek asked with a smirk, sipping his tea.

Stiles sighed, looking at Derek. “Have you ever thought about us being more than friends,” Stiles asked, deciding it would be easiest to just ask and not dance around the bush. “We spend so much time together and take care of each other. Would it really be that different?”

“I have,” Derek said softly, putting his cup down. “It would be different, though. It would mean we had romantic feelings for each other.”

“Is that different,” Stiles asked, meeting Derek’s eyes.

“Is it,” Derek asked back.

“It would mean you felt the same way I do,” he said, licking his lips. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s not different except for what we call it– call us.” Stiles waited for Derek to say something but he was silent. “Do you want to? Want to be my… boyfriend? Partner? Whatever you want to call it.”

“I’d be happy to be you ‘whatever you want to call it’,” Derek said, a slight teasing tone to his voice.

Stiles smiled to himself. “Don’t be an ass about it,” he joked. “Boyfriend sounds so childish and I think of work when I say partner. I don’t know what to call it.”

Derek rounded the counter and wrapped an arm around Stiles. “We can figure that out later,” he said. “For now, we’re just us.”

“I like us,” Stiles sighed, relaxing into Derek.

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Stiles was laying down on the couch, his feet in Derek’s lap. Stiles was half watching tv and half watching Derek. He was reading, one hand holding his book and the other on Stiles’s ankle. Stiles was really liking the whole “us” thing, especially since it meant he could openly stare at Derek.

“What about significant other,” Stiles suggested.

Derek looked up from his book and at Stiles. “Don’t people normally say that when they’re married?”

“I guess so,” Stiles said. He grabbed his new phone and looked up alternatives to ‘boyfriend’ and couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you my bae,” Stiles teased and Derek cringed. “Oh, or my Boo? My flame? My suitor?”

Derek smirked, “What are you reading,” he asked.

“My companion? Lover? Admirer? Paramour? Sweetheart? My beau?”

Derek sighed, turning off Stiles’s phone. “Why don’t we just stick with significant other,” he asked.

Stiles smiled, “that works for me.”

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nightingaleofthemoonlight · 2 days ago

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Teen Wolf: DILF series ft. Derek Hale

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I noticed only few people acknowledge my DILF Peter Hale post ... 🤔 I sense favoritism in the air 👀

*At the Hale Pack house*

Stiles: *just finished setting up the projector*

Stiles: Ladies and Gentlemen! May I have your attention please

*both teens and adults gave their attention to Stiles*

Stiles: I did some research. A very, very intensive research. It was really intense--

Derek: Just get to the point

Stiles: Ok! Fine... Everyone, please give a round of applause to the current Alpha of the Hale Pack a.k.a Sourworlf a.k.a Derek Hale!

*shows pic*

Lydia: He's a pretty boy...

Jackson: I gotta admit Stiles. You know your stuff.

Erica: Those Hale genes are something else. Ever want to spread those genes? I'm available...

Chris: He is something...

Peter: Please don't tell me I have to get jealous on my nephew sweetheart.

Liam: He kinda looks like Deucalion for some reason...

Theo: Conspiracy theory...

Deucalion: For the last time, please leave me to my peace.

*The silence of their Alpha soon got the pack's attention. If the pack thought the silence was because Derek was admiring himself, that would be a lie because he is glaring daggers at Stiles*

Isaac: I think that means you need to run...

Stiles: Yep...

Boyd: Do you need a headstart?

Stiles: Definitely...

Liam: Time to run?

Stiles: Yep

Stiles: *scrambles towards the door with a fuming Derek at his tail*

Allison: What happened to the headstart?

Scott: Beats me...

*A scream rang out in the preserve that day and none of the teens bate an eye*

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elilovesredacted · 14 hours ago

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Alright, some stiles x witch!longtimebestfriend!reader headcanons

(reader should be GN, though if I make a mistake let me know!)

(that title is long af)

- You guys had been together from diapers, your mothers having been friends for years.

- And once Scott was in the mix, what a trio you were. They were your boys, your best friends.

- When they got picked on, whether for Scott’s asthma or Stiles’ fast talking, you were there to back them up, glaring at their bullies with your hands on your hips.

- Stiles thinks he started to crush on you from then on, and Scott knows he did.

- On the night of Scott’s turning, you had been at home, working on an art piece. Your phone lit up from a text from Stiles, urging you to open your window.

- This lanky guy fell through said window, mind racing as he relayed everything they had seen.

- You sat and listened to him for most of the night. His ramblings were usually ignored or met with some resistance from others, but never you.

- When Scott’s turning began to bring the supernatural to light in Beacon Hills, your own powers began to surface.

- You had been sitting in English class, mindlessly doodling while trying your best to stay focused. Stiles and Scott sat behind you, whispering about their crazy nights, and what to do about Derek.

- Your eyes began to burn, your head pounding. Everyone in the room is silent, but you can hear voices across the campus in your mind.

- Stiles notices. Of course he does, he knows everything about you. His hand reaches forward to touch your shoulder, calling your name softly.

- Before he can touch you, you let out a pained cry, the entire class turning to stare.

- Both the boys stand up and quickly rush you out of the room, Scott trying his best to let the teacher know that you’re going to the nurse.

- They bring you to the locker rooms, your hands gripping your hair as you continue to hear the innermost thoughts of the teens of Beacon Hills.

- Stiles places you on the ground, turning to Scott and asking him to call his mom.

- The poor boy is terrified, rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

- “Come on, Sparks. Talk to me.”

- The nickname came from the time you almost lit your picnic blanket on fire, trying to light candles for a nighttime picnic with them both.

- You stare at him, trying desperately to hear him.

- “S-Stiles..”

- “I’m right here, promise.”

- You try to count the moles on his face, not that you needed to. You knew the number.

- When his voice entered your mind, it was soft, almost like a wave crashing over you.

- Please be okay, please be okay, i’m here, i’m here Y/N, you’re gonna be okay..

- Hearing the panic rising in his mind, your reached out and gripped his hand, tugging him to sit next to you.

- The boy flailed alittle, before wrapping you in his arms and rocking you slowly.

- When you began to hear less and less, you started explaining what had happened, your eyes trying to focus on his.

- “What the hell is going on, Stiles..”

- He held your face gently, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone.

- “I promise you, I will help you figure it out. You’ve got me, and Scott, and we’re gonna be right here.”

- You leaned into his touch before burying your head into his neck, breathing in his cologne and gripping his flannel.

- If you could have seen his face, you’d see how unbelievably excited he was to have you cuddled up with him, his hands shaking lightly as he rubbed your back.

- Whatever journey you were going to go on, he would be with you all the way.

I hope you enjoyed, if you want me to continue this please let me know!

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fandom-eater67 · 4 months ago

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Stiles is such a fucking it girl. He hangs around a bunch of mysterious brooding hot people and is always at the center of some murder mystery and or crime, which he is usually the one to solve because he is smart as fuck. And his dad is the sheriff. He is the center of Beacon Hills and runs an entire fucking wolf pack and a half and is also the anchor for one of the alphas.

It girl

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf #teen wolf stiles #sterek #scott mccall #john stilinski #derek hale

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twdxtrevor · 4 months ago

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Stiles couldn't be more queercoded if he tried . .

#teen wolf derek hale #teen wolf gif #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf #sterek gif #sterek #derek hale gif #stiles x derek #derek hale #derek x stiles #stiles stilinski

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strangerstilinski · 1 year ago

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𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐭. 1 — 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐞

minors/ageless blogs please DNI.

REBLOGS are important. please reblog to share.

| 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟑 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟒 |

You'd both sworn. You'd sworn that you wouldn't subject yourselves to sex in the Jeep ever again. Not after the last time ended with so many unnecessary injuries between the two of you. Following one rolled ankle, a noticeable egg on the back of your head, and a bruise to Stiles' elbow that had been so worryingly dark that the purple had been mottled with spots nearly black in color, it was decided that handjobs were fine, blowjobs were great, fingering was.. sufficient. But full-out sex — You had sworn, never again. And, yet..

You can't find it in yourself to care when the dizzying warmth of Stiles' breath falls against your spit slick, kiss swollen lips. Your mouths have separated only as a result of the way he's trying to maneuver you into a better position, a closer position, large hands encasing your waist as he drags you over to straddle his lap. The moment you've settled against his thighs, his hands are already pushing their way up underneath your skirt, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties as his mouth finds its way to your cheek, your jaw, your neck.

And fuck if your own hands aren't already scrambling to undo the button on his jeans, tearing them open and pushing up on your knees just enough that you two of you can work his pants and boxers down his thighs just a few inches.

His cock springs free, already almost fully hard with the anticipation of what's to come, and your mouth nearly waters at the sight. You will never tire of the sight of Stiles' cock, you're sure of it. When your hand wraps around him, your fingers don't meet, and when you give the fat length of him a gentle tug, he groans deliciously into the skin of your throat, hips jerking up as he chases the feeling.

“Hey, slow down, why don'tcha?” Stiles teases softly, “Why're you in such a hurry, huh? Got somewhere else to be or-” He cuts off with another quiet groan as you twist your wrist the way he likes, “Or something?”

“Shush, you.” You reply with a smacking kiss to his mouth.

His fingers are moving in a teasing touch beneath your skirt, skimming the sensitive skin of your belly before finding home on your thighs. He gives the softness a pinch just hard enough to have you gasping before he's slipping beneath the fabric to drag long fingers between your folds.

“Shit, babe,” Stiles groans, his lips finding your cheek again before he drops a light kiss to your chin, “You're this wet already?” He asks, as if you haven't been working each other up for the last twenty minutes with heated touches and even hotter kisses.

He punctuates his question by slipping two fingers inside you in a ridiculously easy glide, the stretch making your eyebrows pull together as your jaw falls slack. He's giving you shallow thrusts, trying to open you up a little and get you ready for what will come next, and your free hand falls to his arm, tethering yourself with fingers circling his wrist in a firm grip. The way the muscles in his arm work with each drag out and then back in has your fingernails digging little crescent moons beneath the dark hairs on his forearm.

Your head is thrown back in pleasure, and it feels like it might weigh a million pounds when you drag it forward again to drop your forehead to his, your hips rocking down onto his fingers and your hand still working him to full hardness, closing over the head of his cock and collecting his precome just to slip back down his length again and again.

It had been days of longing glances across crowded rooms, and lingering touches that were a little unnecessary but desperately craved, and pushing maybe a little too far into each other's space when one of you needed to grab something just to feel the sparks along your skin. Each tiny moment shared had built upon one another slowly, day after day, and now that you're together, skin on skin and teeth and tongues on lips — that fire between you finally burns bright again.

You're both panting a little breathlessly already, worked up beyond belief after not finding moment alone like this in what feels like ages. Hot breaths mingle between your parted lips, the sound of it broken up by the quiet little noises clawing their way up your throats.

You've missed him desperately amidst the chaos that the week has brought. You find yourself wanting him to wreck you beyond repair, to turn your brain inside out until he is all that remains — no stresses about infuriating assholes in the form of college professors, or pack disputes, or the supernatural threat of the week — and the way Stiles continues to work his fingers inside you, pushing in deep until he's caressing that spot that makes your vision white out a bit at the edges, you think he's well on his way toward that wreckage.

“Condom?” You question desperately, tugging at his wrist in signal for him to extract himself from you.

He's muttering to himself while he fumbles to get access to where his back pocket is scrunched up beneath his thighs and you push up onto your knees all the while, maneuvering your underwear down one leg and then the other until you're free of them. When he produces the little foil packet, you take it from him without prompt, tearing it open and rolling it down over him in a quick, practiced motion that has him biting his lips together to hold back a curse.

Stiles slides his hips down the seat a bit further and grips the backs of your thighs to support you as you guide his tip to your entrance. The moment you start to sink down, his fingers dig into the doughy flesh of your thighs, fingertips curling below the curve of your ass to help spread you wider as he fills you up nice and slow.

“You got it, baby,” Stiles praises quietly, lips catching against your cheekbone to leave a small peck to your flushed skin, “There y'go.”

You're shuddering through your breaths as you accommodate to the stretch, knowing that every inch just a precursor to where he's thickest at the base. It's slow going, painful and delicious all at once, but when your hips finally meet his, clit nestling right up against the thatch of hair that trails from his belly button down to where you're connected, you let out a breathy sigh of relief.

Now that you're seated, his hands leave your backside to skate higher, rough fingertips dragging up to the back of your skirt to massage at your spine. You feel him fiddle with the zip at the back, his eyes meeting yours in silent question before you're nodding and he's giving it a tug and freeing you from the thick fabric.

You can't help but look down, and that first glimpse of where you've sucked him in, where he's filling you to the brim, has you eagerly rocking your hips a little to test the stretch. There's still a bit of an ache, a sharp little sting where you're stretched the widest, but it's lessening already and you can feel that pleasurable fullness behind your navel settling in.

“Almost,” You update him quietly, combing your fingers through the strands of his hair and grinning softly when he cranes into your touch, “Jus' need another minute.”

“Take as much time as you need,” He returns earnestly, “You know I'm just enjoying gettin' you like this. Missed you. This week was the worst.”

And it truly has been. Nearly every minute of every day, start to finish, has been an onslaught of lectures and assignments due and pack bullshit that you're both inevitably dragged into every goddamn time — the presence of the token pack humans always necessary if only to give another perspective to a mundane issue that, really, probably could've been solved by your brother and his co-alpha alone. Scott and Derek really shouldn't need to drag the two of you into every little problem — which in turn would leave the two of you with ample time to sneak off somewhere to do this, perhaps in a bed, without the risk of bonked heads or twisted ankles or the bruises that came with ravishing each other in such close confines. And yet, and yet.

You nod in agreement, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape to give it a soft tug, “Been so busy with classes. N' there've been way, way too many pack meetings,” You complain in a quiet huff, “Not enough time for this..” He grumbles his own agreement as your thumb finds the large beauty mark beneath his ear, “I missed you too.” You return softly.

Stiles is patient as ever, his fingers taking the time to explore every bit of exposed skin on your body with a gentle touch. His arms circle your waist only to release you a second later to run his warm palms up your spine and give your shoulders a squeeze. His movements slow for a moment when he finds the band of your bra, pinching and unclasping it in a practiced motion, and then his big hands are making their way back to the front of your ribs, thumbs dragging against the soft underside of your breasts as he dips his head to press kisses to the newly exposed skin.

You lean back a bit to give him more space to work, savoring in the feeling of his mouth peppering soft kisses over your breasts as your own hands fall from his neck to rest on his pecs. Your fingers trail over dark freckles that dot his skin, nails scraping ever so gently into the patch of hair at the center of his chest.

Even with the windows cracked to let in a bit of the crisp autumnal air, the temperature in the Jeep creeps higher, the windows already fogged over with a thin sheen of condensation that smears lightly when you brace your right hand against the window. Five little streaks through the microscopic drops of water covering the cool glass, one to mark where each of your fingers scrape across the surface as you finally rise up onto your knees.

A pitiful little grunt falls from your lips as you drop back down, the sound pushed out with the sheer depth that his cock manages to reach in this position, so full that you can nearly taste him at the back of your throat.

You settle into a slow rhythm and Stiles grabs a hold of your hips as you do, but he's not guiding you, no. He's not aiming for control, not pushing you to go harder or faster, but rather simply holding on and following your movements, his thumbs tracing little concentric circles against the sides of you belly as you go at your own pace.

“Fuck,” You groan when your knees slip a little against the leather seat. It pushes him impossibly deeper than before, driving his tip against your cervix in a way that erupts goosebumps along your skin even in the warm car. “You’re so deep. 'S so big, baby. You're so big-”

You're not even sure what's coming out of your mouth, already a little drunk on the feeling of being filled so completely, on the slick drag every time you rise up and then the sharp jolt to every one of your nerve endings with each thrust back down. Despite the ramblings falling from your lips, or perhaps because of them, Stiles begins to make little noises of his own — guttural moans against the curve of your throat, quiet grunts each time he hits deep.

He tips his head back and the warm brown in his eyes is almost completely taken over by black with how his pupils have blown wide. You catch sight of a small bead of sweat as it works its way out of his hair and begins a slow trail down his temple but you're kissing it away before it can reach his cheekbone. The salt of it lingers on your lips when your tongue runs over them just a moment later.

Dark eyes watch you move with rapt attention, his lips parted to let out low groans of encouragement. It takes a few minutes for him to find his voice, but when he does, his words send heat flooding through you.

“So good,” He tells you, hand tucking a lock of sweat-dampened hair behind your ear before his wide palm settles against the side of your neck, his voice thick with arousal, “Always so good. You're- Shit, y're so tight. So warm. So perfect.”

The thumb resting at the bottom of your cheek creeps up higher, rubbing the plush of your bottom lip until your jaw falls slack in acceptance and then he's cupping your chin and pushing the pad of his finger down against the softness of your tongue. You bite down softly with a moan and your bottom teeth dig into the meat of his palm with just how deep he's got his thumb before you're pulling off just a little and closing your lips around it, sucking and swirling your tongue and reeling at the way his eyes flutter shut with a groan, like he can't quite handle the sight in combination with the way you're riding him slow and deep.

When he removes his thumb, you suck harder to combat the spit that threatens to cling to the digit, but it doesn't make much of a difference because he's already sliding his hand around the back of your neck and bringing your mouth down against his.

You brace one hand on his stomach to aid your moments as your tongues meet in a hungry kiss. A whimper finds its way up your throat when he rubs his free hand achingly slow up and down the front of your thigh, around to grope your ass and then back, smoothing and squeezing along your skin like he wants to be touching you more — Harder, tighter, everywhere all at once.

He's so, so deep like this and you can tell it's affecting him too. His kisses are hungry as he licks into your mouth, a little messy while his nose presses into your cheek and his fingers graze your waist on their journey toward your chest. He's thumbing over the peaks of your nipples, swallowing up your moans with his own, breathing a little like he's the one getting the air punched out of his lungs every time you seat yourself, burying him deep enough that the head of his cock is driving into that spot that makes you see stars.

Your brain goes a little hazy with your budding orgasm, tiny noises becoming more frequent, falling against his mouth a bit like a plea. You don't need to explain, Stiles is already dragging his hand up to push between your thighs, thumb circling your clit the way he knows you like. Your eyebrows furrow as you slip from the kiss, far too focussed on chasing your high now. You bounce a little faster, shallower, fingers scraping at the pale skin of his chest, eyes pinched shut as your thighs tremble with exertion and your knees ache.

Heat licks across your body, a bead of sweat trickling down your spine as your movements start to become a little more difficult. You're so close — so close-

“C'mon, you're doing so good, baby.” Stiles says with far too much tenderness, far too much amazement.

“Fuck,” You whimper, shaky breaths tearing from your chest as you teeter closer and closer, “Fuckfuckfuck-”

“You got it. You can do it. C'mon-”

His gentle praises send you careening over the edge and your whole body shakes as you try to work through it. You're struggling, but then Stiles' hands are under your ass again, guiding you this time, gripping the backs of your thighs tight as he supports some of your weight and helps you ride out your high. Every nudge of his cock against the deepest parts of you has you moaning louder, brain going a little fuzzy as your orgasm peaks but never quite dies off.

Your arms curl around his shoulders, digging your face into his neck as you gasp against his skin, thighs shaking as he keeps guiding you back and forth, not pulling out nearly as far now before he's dragging you against him and filling you back up. Your breasts are pushed tight against his chest. The smell of his aftershave is in your nose and your forehead is pressed into his sweat slicked neck. You're panting, nearly drooling on his shoulder as you try to lock your knees to hold yourself in place, thighs feeling exhausted and like jelly all at once.

“Sti. Fuck, baby, I can't-” A moan cuts you off as it rolls off your tongue, “My legs can't-”

“Aw, your legs too tired, baby girl?” He asks, and it comes out a little condescending. You can practically see the satisfied little smirk on his face, even from where your own is buried in his neck as you nod. He lifts you up a little higher, hands still grasping at the crease where your thighs meet your ass as he adjusts his hips beneath you, “Need me to do the work now?”

The teasing in his voice has your body going traitorously pliant, your voice weak when it finally comes, “Please.”

“I got you,” Stiles promises, taking a little pity. He drags one hand toward the center of your spine while the other falls to the outside of your knee to hold you steady, “I got you..”

The first thrust up into you has you crying out. Not hitting nearly as deep as before, but he's driving in so much harder, so much faster. It pulls whiny little gasps from your lips with each thrust and your jaw's gone slack where it's buried in his neck as his skin slaps against yours with every snap of his hips. The sound of it is loud, and the combination of noises both lewd and salacious only proves to turn you on that much more.

“Shit.” Stiles grunts, voice a little hoarse and yet somehow high as it catches in his throat, “You make the prettiest noises, baby. Fuck. Just listen t' you.”

You don't entirely mean for it, but your next moan is just a little louder in response, unabashed and desperate even as you attempt to muffle the sound of it in the curve of his shoulder. The pitch his voice has taken is one that you only get to hear when he's getting unbearably close to his own peak. The sound of it is so, so sweet to your ears, mingling with the obscenely wet glide of his cock sliding in and out of you.

“'M gonna come,” He warns, his hips jerking just a bit rougher, a bit less coordinated as he fucks up into you, “Shit. Shit, sweetheart, 'm.. gonna.. come-”

His arms curl and lock around your waist as he does, dragging you down against him and burying himself so deep that it has you crying out again, fingers digging into his shoulders where your arms have curled under his to hold tight. He comes with a moan and a grunt that both get muffled with the way his face is now hidden in your hair, his cock kicking up inside you as he releases into the condom.

The increased stimulation against your sensitive walls has you going a little teary in the best way, overwhelmed but loving every moment of it, and you roll your hips over him despite the soreness in your thighs just to hear the way he groans in response.

You pull back just enough to lock your fingers in the hair at his nape and tug him into a sweet kiss, it's warm and a little sweaty as your lips slide together but it's also so full of unspoken thanks and emotion and undeclared love.

When you lean back again to collectively catch your breath, his thumb finds your wet eyelashes and swipes at them gently.

“Oh- hey, you good?” He checks with concern, his free hand already at your waist and drawing soft patterns along your skin, “You okay?”

You turn your head into the hand on your cheek and press a kiss to the center of his palm, scraping at his scalp beneath sweat-dampened locks, “I'm good,” You promise, “Gonna be sore as fuck tomorrow though, God.”

A smirk finds its way onto his face, “Fucked you so good you're gonna have trouble walkin', huh?”

“Shut up,” You huff, a laugh slipping out in contradiction to your weak display of annoyance, “But with the way my thighs feel right now? Yeah.”

You wince as you push up onto your knees, both from the ache left behind as he slips out and from the soreness in your legs. When you rise up a little higher, your head hits the roof with a painful thump and you can't bite back a curse.

Stiles is quick to bring a hand up to the back of your head with a sympathetic wince, cradling the tender spot on your skull softly, “Oh, shit, y'alright?”

“Ow,” You respond with a pout, your own hand reaching back to cover his over your hair, “Stupid Jeep n' stupid metal roof..”

“Hey,” Stiles frowns, “Don't blame the Jeep, alright? It's not Roscoe's fault you bumped your head.”

“Is too.”

It comes out in a huff and Stiles chuckles in amusement at your disgruntled expression as he slips his hands under your thighs to help you dismount from his lap completely. You fall into the seat beside him and drop your calves over his knees, bumping your forehead against his shoulder in a silent gesture of gratitude.

After a few long minutes wrapped up in each other as you collect yourselves, you both gather your haphazardly discarded clothing and redress. Stiles digs out a new air freshener from the glove compartment and adds it to the hoard of them already hanging from the rearview mirror. Another little tree to the collection, this one a pretty shade of purple and smelling of berries, dropping to sit right atop number of similarly shaped scented hangers in a wide array of colors.

And later, when you're forced to part ways, you push up onto your toes as you lean back in through the driver's side window of the Jeep for one final kiss. The breeze is cool against your thighs as it catches beneath your skirt, goosebumps causing you to tighten your fingers around the window frame as you prepare to lean back. Stiles has a hand coming up to the back of your neck to hold you in place at the first sign that you're about to pull away, stretching the kiss out for as long as he can get away with. It's a sickly sweet press of lips. One that will hopefully be enough to hold you over until you get the chance to have him like this again.

A glance over your shoulder as you walk away has your gaze meeting Stiles one last time, elation and melancholy both pulling at the edges of your lips until you're left with a saccarine smile to pair with your tiny wave goodbye. Your fingers come up to brush your lips as you begin to turn away, and when you extend your hand in his direction Stiles nearly throws himself out the open window to catch the invisible kiss that you've sent his way. His unnecessary enthusiasm has you stifling a giggle as you finally turn your back to him and make your way down the street.

You're forced to jog around the block from where Stiles has dropped you a safe distance from your house, hopping into the shower the moment you get home to wash away any and all evidence of the afternoon from your skin.

It's with skin scrubbed clean and a heavy heart that you head to the washing machine and dump your clothes inside to extinguish the lingering smell of Stiles that you know clings to the fabric, of you and Stiles, together.

And when Scott pauses the load mid-wash with the intention of throwing a shirt in, your brother is sure to complain about the way you've pointedly used the scented detergent — the overpowering artificial smell of lavender much too strong an irritant to his overly-sensitive, supernatural, wolfy nose — But, you remind yourself, if you want to keep up this thing with Stiles, which you desperately do, then that's just how this has to go, because, well.

𝐒 𝐜 𝐨 𝐭 𝐭 𝐲 𝐃 𝐨 𝐞 𝐬 𝐧 ' 𝐭 𝐊 𝐧 𝐨 𝐰 .

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝!𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠!! 𝐢 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬. 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐦 — 𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐬.

again, REBLOGS are important.

please have the curtesy to reblog to share/save your ur fave fics.

#don't tell scotty #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles x reader #stiles x y/n #stiles imagine #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles smut #teen wolf imagine #stiles fanfiction #*#teen wolf stiles #teen wolf smut #dylan o'brien fanfiction #mccall!reader #stiles x mccall!reader

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itsjustrosee · 7 months ago

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NEEDS Void Stiles x fem!reader

Context: Stiles and the reader have a flirty-friendship, but aren't in an established relationship. When Stiles gets possessed by the nogitsune, he comes to the readers house who is unaware that he's been possessed.

Warnings: Spice

Wordcount: 1.1k

You slept peacefully in your bed until your eyes began to flutter open. Your mind groggily catches up to you as you slowly adjust to the lack of light in your room. As you sit up slightly, you shiver at your bedroom's surprisingly low temperature.

Even within the comfort and safety of your bed, drowning in the endless sea of covers and blankets that had now engulfed it, you still found your teeth clattering against each other.

Your eyes dart to the window in your room, which you could've sworn you closed before you went to sleep, but for some reason, was open now. The window's curtains blew in the wind after yet another cold breeze entered your room.

You muttered a curse under your breath once you finally built up the courage to leave the warmth of your bed and shut the window. You planted both your feet on the frigid floor and crossed your arms against your chest.

Very slowly, you made your way to the window, letting out a huff as you used both hands to close it shut. You turned around and leaned your back on the window, closing your eyes and sighing as you did so.

Once you opened them however, you saw someone standing in front of your bedroom door. At first, you were under the impression that your mind was playing tricks on you, but as you continued staring at the tall figure leaning on your door with his arms crossed, you realized that this wasn't just a figment of your imagination.

"H-Hello?" You whisper at the person and for some reason, your half-asleep brain thought it would be a good idea if you took a step closer to him. Upon further inspection, you realized that there wasn't just some random crazed lunatic in your room, it was Stiles.

"Wait- Stiles? Is that you?"

"Yes, it is. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," He replies, his voice genuine, yet so low and husky that it sent a shiver down your spine.

He pushed off the door and walked towards you, his eyes raking your body up and down, eyeing you as if he was trying to commit this image of you to his memory. As he stared at your bare legs you came to the realization that you were standing in front of him in just a pair of low-rise shorts and a small tank top.

"What are you doing here?" You ask curiously while crossing your arms in an attempt to cover up the amount of skin you have exposed.

"I just felt like paying you a visit," He says as a grin plays on the edges of his lips, "I've missed you," He adds, his voice growing quieter as he steps even closer to you, placing his hands lightly on your hips as he does so.

"Is that so?" You reply with a soft chuckle while leaning closer and placing your hands on his shoulders.

You didn't know what it was, but at that moment something was drawing you to him. You couldn't help but entertain whatever had gotten into him which had compelled him to be so bold towards you.

"Mhm," He mumbled as he moved one of his hands to your cheek, the skin on his palm was surprisingly warm, causing you to melt into his touch. Heat cast off of his body as he pulled you closer, your chest pressing against his.

Stiles's eyes darted from yours down to your lips as he continued to look at you. The air was filled with tension that radiated so powerfully of desire and longing that it clouded your better judgment.

"You really are gorgeous, you know that right?" Stiles murmured, as he tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear. His deep hazel eyes continue to stare at you, admiring all of your features.

You felt your cheeks grow red as Stiles took your chin in his fingers, lifting your head up and forcing you to return his gaze as your face was now only mere inches away from his. As you finally looked into his eyes, you noticed a glimmer of primal hunger behind them.

Suddenly he took your lips in his, encasing them in a long and passionate kiss. He continued to merge his lips against yours as he moved his hand from your cheek to the back of your head, his hand gently tugging at your hair as he kissed you harder.

You opened your mouth slightly, allowing Stiles's tongue to enter and explore every inch of it. As he continued to taste you, you moved your hands to the back of his neck.

Stiles pulled away momentarily, pushing you against your bedroom wall before picking up where he left off, claiming your lips once more in a hungry kiss. He brought his hands on the back of your upper thighs, signaling you to wrap your legs around his waist.

One of his hands stayed on your ass, keeping you propped up on the wall while the other began to trail up your torso, going under your tank top and cupping your breast.

You moaned into his mouth, his touch sending shockwaves through your body. After hearing the noise, Stiles's arousal only grew greater causing him to harden against his jeans.

His fingers found their way to your nipple, pinching it lightly between his thumb and index finger. Stiles groaned while his tongue continued to tangle with yours as you arched your back into him.

Stiles pulled away, biting down on your bottom lip slightly as he did so. He opened his mouth to speak, his heart beating against your chest as he caught his breath after the heated kiss you both shared.

"You're all mine," He growled possessively, a grin playing on his lips as he turned his attention to your neck, kissing and marking it with hickeys as he made his way down to your collarbone. He bites and then sucks on your sensitive skin, causing you to moan out in pain and pleasure.

Eventually, he brought his head back up to the side of yours before whispering into your ear, "I need more of you," He pleaded while nibbling slightly on your earlobe.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the ache between your legs growing more prominent. The tension in the room was electrifying as his eyes met yours.

"Whatever you need, I'll give it to you," You murmured softly.

Stiles grinned at you as if that was exactly what he had been waiting to hear you say. He encased your lips in one final kiss before carrying you to your bed.

ahhhh omg another stiles fic. Thought I should take a break from all the wholesomeness in my other fics with him 😜I'll start working on my requests now that I've finished this.

BTW THANK ALL OF YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT I'VE BEEN GETTING LIKE WHAT???? YOU GUYS ARE SO SWEET I'M LITERALLY ON THE FLOOR PASSING AWAY RIGHT NOW.

deadass tho, I love every single one of you, thank you for all of the notes, reblogs and comments, each and every one of them makes my day <33

#teen wolf stiles #teen wolf #teenwolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #teen wolf x reader #x reader #teen wolf fanfic #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles spice #void stiles #void stiles x reader

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revengesthings · 4 months ago

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in LOVE.

#dylan o'brian gifs #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brian x reader #maze runner #thomas maze runner #thomas #void stiles #teenwolfstiles #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader

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randommultifandomrants · 4 months ago

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I REFUSE to believe Erica was the only girl who had a crush on stiles. Like my mind cannot fathom it. He’s funny, smart (like almost genius smart), awkward, and I mean look at him.

Like come on now, they really tried to tell us this boy had no admirers

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski moodboard #c: stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #teenwolf

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starkira42 · 21 days ago

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Derek: give me a kiss...

Stiles: fuck off *lovingly*

#teen wolf sterek #teen wolf derek hale #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf #stiles x derek #derek x stiles #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek #incorrect quotes

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sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy · 1 day ago

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Five Times The Supernatural Ruined Stiles's Dating Life And One Time It Helped It

Masterlist | AO3

Stiles swears that the Nemeton and Supernatural things in Beacon Hills are trying to ruin his love life and it's succeeding.

Sterek

~12k

One

~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~

Stiles looked at himself in the mirror, wondering if he was overdressed for a first date. Lydia dressed him so the answer was probably yes. Stiles looked at his phone on the dresser. He was definitely overdressed if the gang found the missing kids, Leshy and needed to fight.

He sighed deeply. The supernatural had ruined a lot for Stiles. He missed so many high school experiences because he had to help save Beacon Hills god knows how many times. He went to college close to help protect the town. He didn't apply for the FBI academy because he'd have to move to Virginia. He was stuck because of it. Could he get just one night without a huge issue? One night– he didn't even need all night, just a few hours– so he could go on a date?

Emma was so smart and funny and pretty and she thought Stiles was funny and he would listen to his rambles in their study group. Stiles already felt bad because he'd had to cancel at the last minute three times because of different issues. He had to blame work.

Stiles sent a text to the pack group chat, getting confirmation that nothing had happened yet, and flipped to text Emma.

He looked in the mirror one more time. He felt stupid. Lydia had insisted he wear a button-up and suit jacket– she even made him buy new because what he had was unflattering– with dress shoes. She mercifully let him forego a tie and said he could wear nice jeans. He was Lydia-approved. He hoped it wasn’t too much.

Stiles met Emma in the restaurant parking lot. She was wearing a summer dress with a cardigan and Stiles smiled. “You are destined to be a teacher,” he joked and Emma chuckled.

“You think,” she asked, locking her car. “I was actually thinking of changing my major to psychology,” Emma joked.

“Elementary Ed looks too good on you,” Stiles teased as she walked over. “Maybe if you did a library science.” Stiles held out a bag of assorted mini chocolate bars and Emma laughed. “I thought they would be better than flowers since you keep candy in your bag!”

Emma took the bag of candy with a smile. “You mean the candy you eat?”

“No, look,” he said, pointing at the bag. “There’s a bunch of peanut and almond candies. You eat those!”

“It’s wonderful. Thank you, Stiles,” Emma chuckled, fitting the candy into her purse.

They walked side by side to the restaurant door. He made a particular effort to keep himself between his date and the road. It had rained earlier and Stiles was used to being soaking wet and freezing cold after years of hunting random creatures in the preserve that had so so many creeks and streams.

Stiles opened the door to the restaurant, holding it open for his date. “After you,” he said and she smiled as they walk in.

“I’m glad we could finally find a day that works for both of us,” she said. She linked their arms with a smile when Stiles joined her inside.

Stiles gave a nervous smile, following the hostess. “Ya, I’m really sorry I had to cancel before. Work, ya know,” he mumbled, his face growing red.

They sat down and looked at the menus but she was quick to pick the conversation back up. "What do you do for work? Didn't you say you were a babysitter or something," Emma asked, looking at him over the top of her glasses.

"Uhhh, kind of," Stiles said, trying to come up with something.

She pushed her hair behind her ear. "What do you mean, kind of," she asked leaning forward. God, Stiles felt dumb with her eyes on him. She was smiling softly, waiting for him to tell her more like he was the most interesting person in the world.

"Well, I mean," he cleared his throat. "I help… individuals with," Oh they were going to kill him for this, "special needs navigate difficult situations when others can't," he explained just vaguely enough to sound like an actual job and not that he was traipsing through the woods with a pack of werewolves hunting dangerous creatures.

"That's so cool," she said, smiling brightly at him. "So, like, do you work with special needs kids or adults more?"

Stiles tried not to cringe. They dealt with too many kids in danger. "Adults mostly."

He bit the inside of his lip when Emma praised his “good heart”. He wasn’t so good. He was a mess. He’d killed more supernatural creatures than he could remember by now. He absently felt for his phone but caught himself before he checked it. It would buzz if they needed him. It would ring if it were an emergency.

“Have you sent in your applications yet,” Emma asked and Stiles gave her a confused look. “You told me before that you were going to apply for the FBI Academy…”

Stiles faked a smile. “That. Ya, right…” He was a killer. Stiles had killed “monsters” that used to be human, that had lives and families. How could he ever be FBI when he’d killed people? “I need to work in the field first,” Stiles mumbled, rubbing the condensation off his glass of water on the table. He didn’t lie. It was a half-truth but no werewolf would find the lie but… but Emma was human. Most people were

Emma smiled. “I’m sure you’ll do amazing things as a police officer,” she said kindly like she could sense Stiles’s unease– she might of, Stiles forgets how preceptive other humans are.

“Thanks. I—” Stiles started and his phone rang. He instantly pulled his phone up and stood when he saw it was Scott. He looked at Emma and she frowned. This was it. The choice he made now would determine where this was going. It… It was going nowhere. Stiles answered the phone. “Hey, Scott…”

Emma sighed. Stiles wanted to feel bad but there were missing kids trapped somewhere in the woods and he really couldn’t. How selfish was he that he had a date planned when there were missing kids? Scott hung up and Stiles pulled out his wallet.

“I’m really really sorry, Emma,” he said, digging for cash. “Look, get yourself something to eat and I’ll call you later okay,” Stiles said, holding out sixty dollars.

Emma gave him a tight-lined smile. It was forced and angry. “You’re skipping out on our date for work?”

“I know. I’m—”

“Just– ya know what,” she sighed. “You obviously don’t have space in your life for a relationship right now. I don’t think– Goodbye Stiles,” Emma said and stood up, holding her purse tightly. “You don’t have time for one date. I can’t…” Emma walked out of the restaurant.

Stiles groaned, dropping a ten on the table for the drinks they never got. He rushed out of the restaurant. He wanted to keep a distance between himself and Emma so he didn’t seem like a creep but he really had to hurry. He was ten minutes away as it is.

Stiles hurried to the jeep and sped out of the parking lot and toward his friends. He saw Emma just sitting in her car when he drove off. He felt like such a douche, knowing he blew his one shot with this freaking awesome girl.

He got to the preserve, barely getting the jeep in park before jumping out. He grabbed his mountain ash bat and turned toward the woods. His eyes caught on the person waiting that the edge of the trees.

“A bit overdressed, aren’t you,” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked Stiles up and down. It made Stiles’s stomach turn, it always had. He chose to act as though it was fear still but he hadn’t truly feared Derek for a long time.

Stiles scoffed. “You pulled the short straw again,” he mumbled, walking toward the werewolf. The pack had long ago set up a system in which the humans would have a designated guide to bring them to the fight if the others had to head in without them. It seemed Derek kept getting volen-told to be the guide when Stiles was late.

Derek shrugged. “They give me the shitty jobs,” he grumbled with just enough infection to tell Stiles he was joking. It was a gift, Stiles was the Derek whisperer.

“Watch it. I have a bat,” Stiles said teasingly, pointing the– actually pretty useful– bat at Derek. The treat was meat with a roll of Derek’s eyes. Stiles sighed, resting the head of the bat on the toe of his shoe. “I wish the supernatural could be a little more considerate of the rest of us. I’m supposed to be on a date,” Stiles huffed, gesturing to his clothes as Derek lead him into the woods.

“I take it they didn’t take ‘sorry, I have to go fight a Polish monster that kidnaps abused children’ as an excuse,” Derek scoffed and Stiles smirked.

“Nope,” he said. “I told her that I work with special needs adults and had to go to work.” Derek gave a disgusted huff and Stiles smirked.

“Why didn’t you say you worked for animal control,” Derek asked.

“Holy shit, I could have said I work for animal control,” Stiles groaned, smacking himself in the forehead.

Derek huffed a laugh. “We aren’t too far behind the others,” Derek said.

The conversation ended there. They walked deeper into the preserve. Stiles watched Derek’s breathing change when he would try to pick up the pack’s scent. Derek walked beside Stiles, getting closer the longer they walked. Their arms brushed together and Derek tensed. Stiles gripped his bat tighter, knowing a tense werewolf wasn’t usually a good sign. Usually but not always; not when they’re trying to keep their cool around a person they like.

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Two

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Stiles was the worst boyfriend ever. He was horrible and terrible and awful and deserved every insult in the book after this one. He white-knuckled the steering wheel.

It was nine pm on February fourteenth and there were no flowers to be spoken of anywhere. He was supposed to have dinner with his boyfriend Spencer and had yet to see him the whole day thanks to a rouge Wendigo hiding and killing along the hiking path the high school track team used.

Stiles had to rush home and shower to get off all the blood, dirt, sweat and god knows what else. He had to change into nice clothes and drive eight minutes to Spencer’s apartment. Stiles knocked on the door and stood awkwardly, waiting for it to open.

It opened and Stiles was the fucking worst person ever. Spencer’s eyes were red and puffy. He was wearing baggy sweats, his usual put-together self far away. “You’re three hours late.”

Stiles cringed and nodded. “I know. I’m the worst and I tried to get you something but there wasn’t any candy or flowers—”

“Probably because it’s nine pm on Valentine’s Day,” Spencer scoffed. “You didn’t even text me!”

“I didn’t have service,” Stiles muttered. “I tried but—”

“Work. Ya, know,” Spencer sighed.

“I’ll do anything. Just, please forgive me?”

Spencer seemed to think it over. “Can you guarantee me two nights where you absolutely will not miss or run out on our dates?” It was reasonable. Any real job should give you the ability to make that promise but… Stiles wasn’t talking about a normal job.

Stiles didn’t answer and Spencer took it as all the answer he needed.

“You’re married to your work and that’s coming from a workaholic. Until you can put us before work at least once, I can’t do this,” Spencer told him. He looked at Stiles and bit his lip. “Let me know when that happens, okay?”

Spencer closed the door. That door closing felt like it knocked the breath out of Stiles.

The walk down to the jeep felt like the longest journey of Stiles’s life. He was going to be alone on Valentine’s day. He didn’t want to go home. Chances were that his dad and Melissa were having dinner and if he showed up, Melissa would ask what was wrong and he’d ruin their night. Scott and Isaac and Lydia and Cora were having a double date movie night. Stiles’s roommate had made it very clear what he’d be doing with his girlfriend in their apartment. He definitely didn’t plan to hang out with Liam and Hayden or Mason and Cory. Malia was god knows where. Theo was… well, that involved spending time with Theo.

Stiles would be alone in the jeep on Valentine’s Day because all his friends had someone to spend it with. All except Derek.

Stiles put the jeep in gear. Maybe they could be lonely together.

As usual, the door was unlocked by the time Stiles made it up the stairs. It was probably unlocked the second the jeep pulled onto the street because of how loud the old girl was. Stiles walked in and kicked off his shoes.

“Not spending the time left on this shitty day with your boyfriend,” Derek asked, not even looking up from his book.

Stiles groaned, “ex-boyfriend,” and crossed the room to sit on a beanbag he’d brought over a while back. “Seriously, I swear the supernatural creatures of the world are out to destroy my love life…”

“This one lasted longer than the others. What was his name? Steven… Simon…”

“Spencer,” Stiles huffed, starting to smile before the weight of the situation started to weigh on him again. “He said that if I could promise two nights I wouldn’t have to leave, we could stay together.”

“Then take a few nights off,” Derek mumbled, still looking at his book even though he definitely wasn’t reading anymore. More than anything, he just didn’t feel like seeing Stiles’s face, knowing he’d be love-sick or heartbroken.

“I can’t do that. What if you need me,” Stiles groaned and rubbed his face, not noticing how Derek perked up slightly. “What if there’s something that the pack doesn’t know how to fight and I have to do research?”

“We can figure it out.”

“Because that worked so well last time,” Stiles scoffed, referring to the whole Ghostrider situation. “And that’s not the point! I have to be here. This is my life now and if I date someone, they’d have to be okay with me randomly running out! I can’t put myself into a relationship fully because my mind is always on you and the pack and what happens if you get hurt or die or get kidnapped because that’s how my life is!”

Derek hummed, “and being a werewolf doesn’t change things for me? For the pack?”

Stiles threw his hands up, “but all of them are dating people who know! They’re dating people in the same situation.”

“Danny—”

“Danny figured it out himself and we have been dragging the poor dude into this shit slowly for years.”

“Then you already have your answer,” Derek grumbled and Stiles huffed a laugh.

“Oh ya, I either narrow my dating pool to supernatural creatures– be a real-life monster fucker– or tell another human about this and get myself sent back to Eichen House, pass.”

“Didn’t seem to mind when you were with Malia,” Derek muttered and Stiles thought there was an almost nervous edge to the words.

Stiles sighed. “Well, ya but my back always looked like I’d been mauled by– well– a coyote,” he said, a chill running down his back at the memory of how it burned when his shirt rubbed against the deep cuts. “The issue with that idea is the low number of friendly monsters to fuck.”

Derek shut his book loudly. He stood up, laying his book in his chair, and walked toward the kitchen. “I’m making coffee.”

“Two cups, right,” Stiles asked, watching Derek walk into the kitchen.

He looked around the room. Derek had (finally) furnished the apartment. He even used the upstairs bedroom instead of treating the space like a studio apartment. And yet, no tv. Stiles’s eyes settled on the only thing of interest in the room, Derek’s book. He knew Derek liked to read but he mostly read biographies. Any of the other books in the place belonged to the rest of the pack since it was kind of their home base. Derek had put the book cover down but the back of the book did not look like a biography. Stiles scooted his beanbag to the couch, picked up the book, and looked at the cover. His jaw dropped. That… had to be one of Cora’s. It was such a cliche cover. A tiny human girl and a giant, ridiculously buff guy with icey blue eyes. The color of the eyes threw him. Icey blue like Derek.

“Branching out into new genres I see,” Stiles mumbled, looking down at what was most definitely a fucking werewolf romance that he remembered Cora had deemed scarily accurate. “You really need to get a tv, man. This is a new low…”

Stiles opened the book to the page Derek had been reading and blinked heavily in shock. He kept reading and… wow, okay. Stiles read until he saw Derek walking back out of the corner of his eye.

“This is… Cora was right,” Stiles said, huffing.

Derek took the book from Stiles, trading it for a cup of coffee. “The author definitely seems to know about real werewolves and not the other crap in the genre,” Derek said, sitting in his spot on the couch, Stiles sitting in front of him in the beanbag.

“So,” Stiles tilted his head back to look up at Derek, “you were just casually sitting here reading porn?”

Derek almost choked on his coffee and Stiles leaned forward, covering his cup, to avoid any possible spay of hot coffee. “What,” he rasped after managing to swallow his drink.

“It’s porn with plot. That’s what those books are and I’m assuming it’s kinky shit since it belongs to Cora,” Stiles added, looking between the book and Derek’s face, which was getting redder.

Derek rubbed his eyes and sighed. “It’s a series,” he mumbled. “Coraleft them here when she finished reading them…” There was a long silence as Stiles watched Derek expectantly and Derek tried to gather his composure. He looked at Stiles and swallowed. “Do you want to read the first one?”

Stiles took a breath of disbelief before he spoke, looking at Derek in confusion. “Are you asking me if I want to sit here and read dirty werewolf books with you?”

“The main character is Bi?”

“You think I’ll want to read it just because I’m Bi,” Stiles asked with a smile. He let the words seep in as Derek seemed more and more uncomfortable. “Fuck it, I’m in.”

Stiles stood up and walked over to the large bookshelf, looking for a similar cover. He turned, about to ask where the book was and found himself face to face with Derek. He was very very close. Derek looked him in the eyes and Stiles’s mind was filled with memories of Derek shoving him against walls menacingly.

This was far from menacing.

Derek’s eyes flicked up from Stiles’s as he reached up and grabbed a book from the shelf. He looked back at Stiles, bringing the book down between them. “It’s right here… I didn’t tell you the title,” Derek said, handing Stiles the book.

Neither of them moved when Stiles grabbed the book. Derek looked down as their hands held the book. He looked back to Stiles’s eyes and let go. He took a step back and Stiles felt like he could breathe again. Derek turned and went back to sit on the couch.

Stiles was slow to do the same. He sat down on the opposite side of the couch from Derek. He looked at the book and shook his head. It was such a cliche cover only slightly different from the other. A tiny human girl and a giant, ridiculously buff guy with golden yellow eyes and no shirt. The color of the eyes threw him. “Wait, the werewolf on that cover has blue eyes,” Stiles said, pointing to Derek’s book. “Is it a different person or does he, ya know…”

“You’ll find out in the second book,” Derek said with a smirk.

Stiles groaned. “No! Just tell me,” he whined.

Derek hummed, a sly smirk crossing his face. “I’ll give you three options and you have to guess.”

“Will you tell me if I’m right,” Stiles asked, turning to face Derek.

“I haven’t decided,” Derek said and Stiles groaned.

“Fine! Give it to me,” he huffed.

Derek nodded, looking at Stiles’s book. “Option one, he has to mercy kill another member of the pack. Option two, he kills another werewolf that wanted to kill her. Option three, an ‘evil witch’ attacks them.”

Stiles scrunched up his nose. “A darach by any other name would suck as much,” Stiles groaned and Derek chuckled. “I fucking hate Darachs.”

“Which one do you think it is,” Derek asked, taking a sip from his coffee.

“The evil witch thing is too specific,” Stiles scoffed, leaning back. “You could have come up with better choices.”

“What makes you think I didn’t? What if more than one is right?”

Stiles glared at Derek. “Then you’re a dick.”

Derek nodded and opened his book again to read.

“You’re not going to tell me,” Stiles yelled and Derek shrugged.

“You read fast,” he said and then promptly ignored Stiles.

Kind of. He only half ignored him. It’s really hard to focus on reading when the person next to you is reading something you suggested. Everytime Stiles would hum or gasp or chuckle, Derek wanted to know what he’d just read. He wanted to put his book down and ask or lean over to see for himself. He held back laughter when Stiles started to move around, effectively wafting the smell of arousal through the room.

It was even funnier when the smell of confusion started to mix with the arousal and then overpowered it.

Derek glanced over a Stiles adn saw him tilting his head. “Well,” Derek started and Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin, “I was going to ask where you were but know I know.”

Stiles looked at Derek in confusion until, slowly, the embarrassment clouded his face. “Oh shit. Fuck, I forgot you could– This is your fault, you know!”

“I’m sure,” Derek muttered. “Shut up and read.”

Stiles glared at Derek but opened his book again. Like that, the day passed. Stiles smacked Derek with the first book when he’d finished it. Derek looked down at Stiles, who had turned himself to sit upside down on the couch at some point in the last few hours.

“That sucked,” Stiles grumbled and Derek raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, it was really good but the ending sucked! I need book two!”

Derek rolled his eyes, checking the time. “What you need is food. It’s almost eleven and all we’ve had is coffee.”

“So,” Stiles objected. “Order some pizza and give me book two.” Derek didn’t answer him and stood up. “You have no food! I looked in there at the meeting the other day.”

“I do know where the store is,” Derek said, taking a cardboard pizza out of the freezer.

“Oh my god, I love you– ” Stiles said, red faced only because of the blood rushing to his head. No other reason. He sat up and cleared his throat, “in a… totally platonic pack member-to-pack member sort of way.”

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Three

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Stiles walked into his girlfriend’s apartment. Cecily peaked around the corner from the kitchen, her dark curls swaying as she hurried to him. She kissed Stiles and closed his eyes. He felt cloth cover his closed eyes and he pulled back. He was blindfolded. He grabbed at it, trying to rip it off. His breathing started to speed up. He couldn’t get it off. Alarms were going off in his head, making his hands shake.

“Stiles,” she said nervously, helping him pull the blindfold off. “Holy shit. I’m so sorry! Are you okay,” Cecily asked, holding his face in her hands.

Stiles looked up at her and shook his head. “Please don’t do that,” he mumbled, letting his head fall forward against her. He was safe, he had to remember that. He was with his girlfriend and everything would be fine. There were no creatures attacking them or hiding just around the corner. He was safe.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, hugging him loosely. “Let me turn stuff off in the kitchen and we can relax for a bit, okay?” She let go of him and Stiles pulled back, chewing his lip.

He watched her walk away. He took his shoes off– a strong rule in her home– and waited. She returned and hugged Stiles again. Cecily led him into the living room. He sat down and she stood by awkwardly.

“I’m really sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t know it would freak you out this bad…”

Stiles was still shaking. He couldn’t quite get his breathing under control. Memories of being trapped, of being kidnapped, of white cloth bandages covering his body, of having no control over his actions, of the Nogitsune, of the Darach, of Ghost Riders, of drowning, of nearly getting killed again and again and again. It was like his body was preparing to fight for his life.

Cecily rubbed her arm. “I wanted to surprise you,” she mumbled.

Stiles dragged his eyes up from the floor to look at her and suddenly felt underdressed. Cecily was wearing a blue dress that made her dark skin seem to glow even in the apartment’s poor lighting. Her brown eyes were lined in a matching blue and a smokey eye. She was wearing her favorite silver necklace– the one he’d tried to save to get matching earrings for but he’d come up short. Stiles had just thrown on a button-up and slacks. He’d hardly brushed his hair and Cecily had obviously spent plenty of time on herself. She was tall and beautiful and Stiles was so far out of his league with her.

Stiles nodded. “Ya, ya… I, uh, just don’t do that again,” he mumbled, rubbing his hands together nervously. He could still feel the fear in the pit of his stomach. “What’s this surprise,” he asked trying to seem chipper.

Cecily’s smile returned. “Are you sure you’re okay,” she asked again and Stiles forced a smile. He nodded and she grabbed his hands to help him up. “Close your eyes and promise you won’t peek.”

Stiles closed his eyes and swallowed back the rising nerves. “You won’t let me run into anything, right?”

“No. I’m not that mean and I don’t need you bruised up when we go see my family later,” she said and Stiles almost opened his eyes in surprise.

“When are we going to see your family,” he asked nervously. He was on patrol tonight and they either had a chupacabra or vampires in the woods at the moment.

“Tonight after dinner,” she said, stopping Stiles from walking any farther. She let go of his hands and he could hear her moving around. “You can open your eyes,” Cecily said excitedly.

Stiles opened his eyes and had to stop himself from laughing. “Is that Pasta Express,” he asked with a huge smile.

Cecily smiled with him. “You’re dating me for my brains, not my cooking skills,” she told him, setting two boxes on the candle-lit table. “I did try to do homemade pasta like my mom does but I might have burnt the sauce and caked the stovetop with it.”

Stiles bit his lip so he wouldn’t laugh and pulled out a chair for Cecily. “It’s perfect but one of us is eventually going to need to learn how to cook,” he joked.

Cecily hummed, “I vote you learn,” and sat down.

“We could do a cooking class together,” Stiles suggested.

“Can you get out of work long enough for that,” Cecily joked. “It’s like Beacon Hills has a never-ending stream of dangerous animals,” she sighed and Stiles nodded because she was all too right.

“Speaking of… I don’t know if I’ll be able to go to the party your family is throwing. I signed on for a night shift so we could do dinner,” Stiles told her, and Cecily’s smile fell.

“I thought you had the night off?”

“Split shift,” Stiles muttered

“My mom spent all day setting up an amazing party for our anniversary,” Cecily told him. “You said you would be off tonight for dinner.”

“And I am,” Stiles retorted. “You said dinner at six and I don’t work until nine. I figured we could have dinner, I’ll help with dishes and then we could watch a movie before I go to work.”

Cecily twirled her fork in the pasta on her plate. “Can’t you call out this one time,” she asked.

“I would if I could,” Stiles told her. Yes, he should not go on patrol where it’s his job to make sure nobody else died because of a murderous creature living in the woods of Beacon Hills that could definitely make it into the town and kill even more people.

“It’s just that… this would be the third time you skipped out on something with my family because of ‘work’,” she said slightly accusatorily, taking a mouthful of her pasta.

Stiles picked at his own food but couldn’t bring himself to stomach it. She was right. He felt like a horrible boyfriend. He was a horrible boyfriend. Maybe he should just tell her. If she knew he was trying to make sure people didn’t die, maybe she’d reconsider.

“There are a few rabid coyotes living on the edge of town,” Stiles told her. He saw the way Cecily struggled to swallow the bite of food she’d taken. “We need more than one person for that so I have to go. People could get hurt.”

Cecily laid her fork down, the topic must have killed her appetite too. “But why can’t it be someone else? You have missed date after date. You’ve had to leave early almost every time you didn’t miss them completely. You can never stay here. You come home looking like someone beat the Hell out of you regularly… If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a wife and kids or were in the mob or a gang or something,” Cecily huffed. “And I don’t think it’ll be better when you become a cop.”

Stiles was going to say something but he knew she was right. It would never be any better. He looked down at his bowl of pasta. He couldn’t stop helping. He was supposed to protect Beacon Hills and he couldn’t stop doing that.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Stiles sighed.

His phone rang and he was quick to grab it. The look on Cecily’s face told him all he needed to know. He’d seen it so many times. He was about to lose her. He was about to lose all of this. Better make it quick.

Stiles answered the phone and stood up. Cecily stood up too and it began. Telling him to come back. Warning that this was the last straw. Telling him exactly what he was doing wrong. Listing other times he’d done this same thing. Another warning. Stiles ignored it all and walked to the door. He pulled his shoes on and looked up to see Cecily down the hall.

“That damn job pulls you away from everything,” Cecily yelled, tears brimming her eyes. “Stiles, I swear to god, if you walk out that door again then it’s over.”

“I have to go,” was all Stiles could say. He opened the door and left.

Only when a grumbled “she sounded lovely” came through the phone did he realize who called.

“Where are they, Derek,” Stiles asked, not in the mood.

“Come to the apartment. We're gathering supplies," Derek told him and hung up.

Stiles groaned and rubbed his face. He walked to the jeep, thinking about what Cecily had said. Why couldn’t it be someone else? Why was Stiles the one stuck in the middle of this supernatural cluster fuck? Because Stiles was the idiot that dragged his best friend out of bed and into the woods at night to look for a dead body.

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Four

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They had gotten better about treating wounds since they started. Deaton was practically obsolete at this point. Between Stiles, Lydia, and Scott, they could stitch the pack back together on their own.

Isaac laid on the tile bathroom floor– it stained the least– and Lydia put a thick bite strap between his teeth. Scott and Liam held Isaac down and looked at Stiles. Isaac had fallen into a tiger trap pit filled with wolf's bane. As such, Stiles was going to have to burn and stuff wolfsbane into the deep stab wounds. Deep wounds, meaning the ash would have to go as far in as the spikes had.

Stiles’s hands were shaking as he tried to light the lighter. He had plenty of wounds himself, not the least of which was broken ribs. It was hard to breathe and each breath send shooting pains across his body. He was trying to ignore the pain and focus on the delicate task at hand which only served to fuel his anxiety.

A hand rested on Stiles’s shoulder and he almost moaned from the relief as his pain was slowly drained away. He closed his eyes and took a deep, painless breath. His hands slowly grew less shaky. He glanced behind him and saw Derek looming over their group wearily. He had taken the brunt of the attack and was still healing. Even so, black lines ran up his arms, leaching away Stiles’s pain.

“You don’t have to—”

“Issac needs your help. You can’t help in that much pain,” Derek grumbled, leaving no room for argument. When Stiles was steady enough, Derek stopped pulling away the pain but his hand stayed.

Treating Issac’s wounds was a long and painful process. Even with Scott and Cora holding him down, there were moments Stiles thought he might jump up and kill him for it. Something they learned the hard way was that severe pain made people and werewolves lash out, even if you were trying to help them.

It took over an hour to get everyone back to a point of semi-health. Hours that meant Stiles was late to his boyfriend’s Christmas party.

Stiles sighed, looking at the numerous missed texts from Harvey, the last of which read not to bother showing without a good reason.

“Trouble in paradise,” Cora asked.

Stiles walked into the kitchen where everyone had congregated now that they were healing. He looked down at his clothes– what was a brand new sweater and slacks– and asked “On a scale of one to ten—”

“Negative a thousand,” Cora told him harshly. “And it’s not just your clothes.”

“Gee, thanks,” Stiles grumbled at her.

Corashrugged. “I’m sorry. Did you want me to lie because you have a black eye, fresh stitches in your eyebrow, and Issac’s blood is still on your hands and clothes.”

“Actually, I think that might be my blood,” Stiles muttered.

“Point is, your man would be pissed and might actually call the cops if you showed up like that. You at least need a shower and a change of clothes,” Cora said, sliding off the counter. “You shower. I’ll raid Derek’s closet.”

“Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, ask,” Lydia piped up, sipping her mug of tea to soothe her throat.

Eric snorted, “if he had any objections, he’s have made them known already.”

Stiles didn’t bother to argue with her, it would have been pointless anyway, and headed for the bathroom. He paused to look at himself in the mirror, leaning closer to see the damage. He touched the skin around his new stitches and winced. Maybe he’d get pity points for getting beat to shit.

Ya, Harvey would kill him for showing up like this to family Christmas. His parents already hated Stiles for ‘making their son gay’ and he really didn’t feel like dealing with their disgusted looks. Stiles took a breath. He wasn’t doing this for them, it was for Harvey.

He got in the shower, not letting himself dwell on the fact that even that thought didn’t make him want to go. Stiles just wanted the feeling of dried blood gone and put on clean clothes– Derek’s clean clothes– and to lay on the couch with his pack.

There was a knock on the bathroom door and it opened. “Clothes,” a gruff voice muttered. Derek. It was quiet, only the sound of running water filling the room. Stiles almost thought Derek had left, then he cleared his throat. “So, you're going to see Harry?”

Stiles scoffed in amusement, “his name is Harvey and his parents are having a Christmas party.”

Derek scrunched his nose. “Christmas isn’t for three weeks.”

“They have family in town or something,” Stiles said, carefully washing the blood off his face.

“You don’t want to go,” Derek said plainly.

“Nope.”

“Then why are you going?”

“Because I lo–” Stiles stopped. Did he? “Because Harvey wants me to.”

Stiles turned off the water and reach out of the curtain just enough to grab his towel– he didn’t remember hearing the door shut– and dried his hair carefully. He wrapped it around his waist and stepped out of the shower. He looked at Derek, waiting for him to get the hint.

“You could stay here. The others want to have a game night,” Derek shrugged.

“I would love to, big guy,” Stiles said with a smile, “but I don’t need to piss Harv off anymore. He might kill me anyway if I don’t come up with a great excuse for all this.”

Derek hummed, “deer have been crazy lately. Lots of accidents happening…”

Stiles laughed, “thanks Sourwolf. Now get out.”

Derek ducked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Stiles locked the door and shook his head with a smile. He stared blankly at the bathroom floor. What if he did lie? Surely Harvey couldn’t be mad if Stiles had hit a deer on the way and jacked up the jeep. Then again, that meant Stiles wouldn’t be able to drive the jeep until it ‘got out of the shop’ and that was just too much to commit to a lie.

An hour later, Stiles stared at the huge house blankly. He didn’t want to go in. He didn’t want the disapproving looks or the backhanded remarks. He didn’t want to hear another ‘oh, we must have forgotten’ when presents come out or get a two-dollar gift compared to everyone else’s expensyve ones. He was tired of being treated like a nuisance or as less than them. They were snobby and rich and horrible.

He put the jeep in gear and started back to the apartment he shared with Harvey. He trudged up the stairs and looked around. He couldn’t help but scoff at the stupid expensive furniture Harvey had insisted on and started packing what little belonged to him.

He was carrying one of his bags to the door when Harvey walked in. Stiles ducked his head, not wanting to face him.

Harvey huffed a disbelieving laugh. “I can’t fucking believe you,” he said. “What? Were you fucking your side piece? Is that why you missed my parents’ party?”

“What are you talking about,” Stiles asked, walking back to their room to pack more of his clothes.

“Oh, don’t play stupid,” Harvey said, following Stiles to the bedroom. “I knew you were lying, nobody works that fucking much, I just didn’t think you were cheating on me!” Stiles looked at Harvey in shock. "I'm not an idiot! What, did you think I wouldn't notice that you came home in different clothes? In Derek fucking Hale's clothes?"

Stiles frowned, more confused than ever. "How do you know Derek?"

"I followed you! I knew you weren't at work."

"Obviously not long enough! I work with Derek! Us and some other people we work with met at his place so we took fewer vehicles!"

Harvey scoffed. "Oh, I'm sure you did. You don’t even know what day I’m talking about."

"You're an ass! Can't you see my face," Stiles said, pointing at his eyebrow. "I had to get fucking stitches! How do you explain that if I'm cheating on you?"

"Considering your new boy toy has been a murder suspect more than once—"

"Don’t fucking talk about him like that," Stiles said bitterly, throwing his clothes in the bag. "I'm getting my shit and leaving. We're fucking done."

Harvey scoffed, "my parents were right about you," and walked away.

Stiles didn’t answer no matter how much he wanted to. It wasn’t worth it. He just packed his stuff and put it in the jeep.

He sat there feeling lost. He was back to living with his dad until he got a new apartment. Was it him? It really seemed like it at this point.

Everything was a mess. Was there any point in him dating now? Or ever? He had to put the safety of the city at the top of his priorities; not dates, not sleep, not school, not family, not even himself.

Fuck it.

He drove to Derek’s apartment and walked up the stairs. He flopped down on the couch between Scott and Derek and groaned.

"Just fucking shoot me if I ever try to get an apartment with someone again," Stiles groaned.

"It would probably be easier if you told them or, better yet, date someone who already knows," Lydia said. "That's what we did."

"Ya, Derek said that too," Stiles muttered.

"Have you maybe stopped to think that I might know what I'm talking about," Derek asked.

"No. Not, really," Stiles said sarcastically. "Think about it! Who would I end up dating then? Huh, Derek?"

Theo snorted and Liam shook his head. Stifled laughs ran through the room and the side conversation and mumbled comments went back to usual.

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes and letting himself relax. He was with his friends so who gave a shit about a stupid boyfriend? He opened his eyes, intending on forgetting about his dumpter fire of a love life, and he saw Hayden sitting in the armchair with Liam and painter her nails while he held the polish bottle. He rolled his eyes. Forgetting about dating is easier said than done when your entire friend group was in a relationship.

Worse yet, he couldn’t even wallow in his pity silently because they could all tell.

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Five

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Stiles knocked on his boyfriend’s door. He shifted nervously as he waited. The door opened to reveal his smiling, fantastic, sweet, boyfriend.

“Hey you,” Evan said with a smile. He looked Stiles over and saw how nervous he was. “Is everything okay?”

“Ya,” Stiles said, not looking very sure of his answer. “Ya, everything’s good. We just– I need to tell you some things and…”

Evan’s smile fell. “Okay,” he opened the door more to let Stiles in. He stopped him with a hand on his chest right as he crossed the threshold of the door. “I have two questions but I’m going to sound like an ass for the first one…” Stiles nodded and Evan took a deep breath. “Did you… you didn’t cheat on me, right?”

“What,” Stiles asked, his eyes going wide. “No! No, god no.”

“I figured it was a stupid question but, you know… Question two: are you moving away? Because other than those two things, I think we can make anything work, and moving might not have to be a big deal either if… Are you moving,” he asked softly.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Stiles said, starting to feel more at ease. They could make it work. Evan said they could make anything work. Maybe telling him about the pack wouldn’t be so bad.

Evan kissed Stiles and he could taste the hot chocolate Evan had been drinking. He was so warm and sweet and Stiles pulled him closer, savoring the moment in case it was the last.

All those fears came rushing back. What if Evan thought he was crazy or he hated him or he called him psychotic or a lier. The feeling of Evan’s hand resting on his cheek pulled him back from the fear. They could make anything work.

Evan pulled away to breath and laughed. “You look fucking drunk off one kiss,” he teased, pulling Stiles further into the apartment.

“Let’s sit down. I have something important to talk to you about,” Stiles said, noticing that Evan was starting to pull him towards the bedroom. “Maybe in the living room?”

Evan stopped and looked at Stiles sceptically. “Promise you aren’t proposing first,” he said.

Stiles shook his head. “No, that’s not it. Do you want me to… soon,” Stiles asked in confusion.

Evan thought for a moment and answered, “no. Not until we graduate, at least.”

Stiles nodded, leaning in to kiss Evan again. They walked back to the living room and sat down together. Stiles chewed his lip, not sure where to start.

“I’m not crazy.” Great start Stiles. No crazy person ever says that. Evan huffed a laugh so maybe Stiles hadn’t completely screwed up. “I’m about to tell you some really unbelievable things. You won’t want to believe them because of how unbelievable they are but you should believe them because they’re true.”

“What?”

Stiles should really be better at explaining this by now. What he did know was that it was better to run through all of it and take questions at the end. “Supernatural creatures are real. All of them; well, pretty much. Werewolves, Banshee, Kitsune, Vampires– all the things that go bump in the night are real. My friends– Scott, Derek, Liam, Isaac, kind of Malia– they’re all werewolves– I mean, Malia’s a werecoyote. Lydia’s a banshee and Kira’s a Kitsune. And we all fight evil supernatural creatures that try to kill or take over Beacon Hills because this thing called the Nemeton is attracting all of them here after Scott and ME and this girl Allison all died a while back and reactivated the magic and… Please don’t give me that look,” Stiles said, looking at Evan. He was giving Stiles the you’re insane but I’m more scared than worried look.

Evan looked like he wanted to laugh but couldn’t. He thought it was a joke except that Stiles was acting so serious. He swallowed a lump in his throat and took Stiles’s hand in his. “Stiles, are you being serious?”

“Yes,” Stiles said firmly. He was terrified of what would come next. God, Evan thought he was crazy. He thought Stiles had lost it was was definitely going to want to have him committed or something.

Evan nodded and took a deep breath. “None of that is real. There is no such thing–”

“There is and I can prove it,” Stiles said, pulling his hand out of Evan’s to grab his phone.

“Are you on something? Like, did you get high or take some halucenegenics when you went camping with your friends,” Evan asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“No, look,” Stiles said, showing Evan a picture of some of the pack in bate shifts.

Evan finally laughed, his head falling in his hands like Stiles had just told him the funniest joke ever. He looked at the picture and smiled. “That’s really cool makeup but… why don’t they have eyebrows,” Evan asked. “What, is this for a film class?”

Stiles sighed. “No! It’s not a class and it’s definitely not makeup but I’m glad someone else noticed the eyebrow thing,” Stiles huffed. “No, Evan, it’s real.”

Evan’s smile slowly fell. “You really believe all of this, don’t you?”

“Please trust me! You can meet Scott and he can show you. Or Danny! Danny’s human but he knows all about it!”

Evan nodded, sitting up and subtly leaning away from Stiles. “I’m going to say this in the nicest way I possibly can: you need to talk to someone– a professional– about what you just told me,” Evan said, starting to pick at his nails. It was a nervous habit he’d almost kicked; he only did it was afraid now.

“I mean, probably. I’ve died twice and come close to it god only knows how many times.” Stiles huffed. It felt almost easy. It felt like a weight had fallen off his shoulder now that he could speak honestly even if he sounded insane. “I haven’t had a normal life since, what, sophomore year of high school when Scott was bitten.”

“I’m… going to call your dad, okay. You stay here,” Evan said and stood up. Stiles stood up too.

“Why are you calling him?”

“Stiles, you’re sick. I think it would be best if someone drove to somewhere where you can get help, okay,” Evan said gently, standing up and walking toward his kitchen.

“I’m not crazy,” Stiles yelled, following his boyfriend. “I can prove it to you if you’d just– I can facetime Scott and he can show you! His eyes ruin pictures! They turn red and he grows fangs and hair on his face—”

“That’s not real,” Evan yelled back. “You are delusional! You’re brain is- is making things up! It’s not your fault but none of that is real!”

Stiles froze. Was he crazy? What if he had made up that last six years? What if he really was delusional? What if… “No, ya know what, call my dad! He knows the truth. He’ll tell you the same thing I did, are you going to say he’s crazy?”

“You convinced your dad that– Stiles, you need help,” Evan said, his voice shaking. “You’re freaking me out. I don’t know how to help.”

“Trust me! For five minutes, trust that I’m not crazy,” Stiles sighed.

Evan shook his head. “You just told me that monsters are real and you want me to believe you?”

“I just–” Stiles growled out of irritation. “I told Derek this was a horrible idea,” he huffed.

“Stiles, I—”

“Can I do anything to make you believe I’m not fucking insane,” Stiles asked in a huff. Evan shook his head and Stiles took a raged breath. “Okay… Well, I’m not lying so,” Stiles huffed, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Then we can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

“Stiles, you need help,” Evan said softly.

“But not for what you think,” Stiles told him. “I love you but… this just isn’t going to work.”

Stiles left Evan’s apartment and sat in the jeep. He felt tears starting to roll down his face. He was embarrassed and frustrated and scared and just… lost. How was he ever supposed to find someone to share the wild, unpredictable, insane life he lived with someone if nobody would give him a change or believe him when he tried to explain? It was almost like the world wanted him to be alone.

Stiles wiped his face and went where he knew he’d be welcomed in the mess of a state he was in. He went to Derek’s.

Like every time before, the door was unlocked. This time, Derek wasn’t on the couch with a book. This time, Derek was at the door when Stiles walked in. No doubt he could hear Stiles’s frantic heart rate, the pained emotions rolling off of him and the scent of tears on his clothes.

“You got a tv,” Stiles commented, holding back tears. He could see Derek’s eyes searching for injury or blood, anything to warent the amount of distress Stiles was in.

“What happened,” Derek asked.

And, fuck, Stiles couldn’t hold it in anymore. “I told him,” Stiles mumbled in a broken voice, tears filling his eyes at the words. He sniffed, rubbing his eyes as discretely as he could. “I knew it would happen, that he’d think I was fucking crazy but… Why does it hurt so bad?”

Derek walked back to Stiles with a fresh cup of coffee. He must have started it when he unlocked the door. He stood, waiting, watching.

“He’s amazing, Derek. Evan is so… He’s funny and patient and fucking gorgous. His perfect black hair and green eyes. The way he listened and never made me feel like I was too loud or talkative and that smile.” Stiles huffed a sad laugh. “He always tasted like sugar because of that damn sweet tooth.”

“Stiles,” Derek grumbled.

“No, you’re right,” Stiles mumbled. “He sucks! He didn’t even give me a second to explain and just instantly went to me being crazy! He was gonna call my dad and tell him I needed help! What kind of person just passes the buck when their friend– their boyfriend infact– needs help? You wouldn’t do that– I mean, you might have in the past but you just don’t do that to a friend!” Stiles looked at Derek, the sadness changing to anger the more he thought about it. “I tried to prove it to him and he didn’t want to listen or see it. He just wanted to get crazy-fucking-Stiles out of his apartment!”

Derek listened to Stiles rant, placing a hand on his back to gently guide him to the couch. Derek sat on the couch and grabbed the tv remote. He nodded along with Stiles’s rambling as he clicked around to find a movie. He squinted at the screen, trying to read the titles with Stiles in the way.

“And the worst part of it is—” Derek clicked play. “Is that New Hope?” Stiles sat down on the couch with Derek, his eyes on the screen.

It was like pushing pause on Stiles’s brain. Stiles was watching and quoting lines from the movie; he’d watched hundreds of times. He’d say his favorite lines louder than others. Derek found himself smiling at Stiles. It used to annoy him that Stiles said the lines along with the characters but it started to grow on him. Now he found it almost endearing.

They watched all three movies– well, Derek did. At some point during The Empire Strikes Back, Stiles laid on the couch like he would with the pack. His head was on Derek’s leg and his feet were over the arm of the couch. Stiles fell asleep halfway through Return of the Jedi. It was how Derek had learned he actually did like Star Wars, watching them with Stiles and still watching when he feel asleep.

When the movie ended, Derek moved to grab the remote and turned it off. He set the remote down, his hand going back to where it had been before– playing with Stiles’s hair. Derek picked up his book and started reading again.

With the movie off and the strange silence of the apartment, Stiles was drifting in and out of sleep. The feeling of someone playing with his hair helped him fade back to sleep even in the deafening silence. He squinted his eyes, looking into the black sceen of the tv reflecting his own image back to him. He could see them on the couch. He closed his eyes, feeling like things were finally right, He opened his eyes again, remembering where he was, and his heart rate jumped. Derek. It was Derek playing with his hair.

“Are you okay,” Derek asked, lowering his book. The hand in Stiles’s hair stopped, moving away.

"Huh? Oh," Stiles mumbled, sitting up. "Ya… Ya, I'm fine." He rubbed his eyes, not even thinking about the response. Ways to pass a werewolf lie detector.

Derek glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s almost two. You might as well go to sleep.”

“What about you,” Stiles asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

Derek took a deep breath. “I don’t sleep much,” he mumbled.

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Six

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“Of fucking course it’s a Darach! All the animals are acting weird with runes randomly appearing near by? Darach! And I said that! But does anyone listen to Stiles? Noooo! It’s all ‘Scott, what do we do’ and ‘Lydia do you know about this’ and ‘Peter do you know’ and ‘Let’s just charge in and GET OURSELVES KILLED’!””

“Okay, Stiles. We get it. You were right,” Malia mumbled.

“Again! I was right again,” Stiles said. “For once, why can’t it be gnomes or a ghost? Hell, at this point I’d take pixies!”

“If you’r so smart then what should be do,” Malia asked, glaring at him.

Stiles looked at her, deadpan. “The same thing we do everytime there’s a Darach, load up on weapons and Mistletoe.”

“That’s great and all but we don’t know who it is,” Scott said.

“Why don’t we just follow the invitations,” Lydia asked, holding up on of the red envelopes that had been left on the pack’s porch and Stiles cringed.

“Oh, so we’re going with those being a part of this and not actually being Stiles and Derek’s wedding announcements,” Theo asked, as pompous as ever.

“Shut up,” Liam grumbled.

“Stiles and Derek are hardly friends. I don’t think they plan on getting married anytime soon,” Scott scoffed.

“Definately not getting married,” Theo muttered, “Derek made the smart move and ran. Not that I blame him,” he said, looking at Stiles.

*************************

“I fucking hate Darachs,” Stiles mumbled. “They always choose the worst hide-outs.” He scratched his arm. He was getting chewed up by chiggers and mosquitos as he followed the werewolves through an especially grassy area in the woods.

“Shut up and pick up the pace,” Theo grumbled, pushing Stiles from behind him. He was especially bitchy today. Stiles didn’t see why, he wasn’t the one covered in itchy, bleeding bug bites.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Someone needs to get laid,” he mumbled, earning a warning growl from Theo. Stlies almost laughed. Being growled at is a lot less threatening when you had seen the person whine like a kicked puppy because the person the were cuddling moved.

The pack crept deeper into the forest, they could hear music. It grew louder and more clear the closer they got. Drums and gongs and a woman singing rang through the forest. They shared a look of confusion as they drew closer.

There was a clearing in the woods. Even if you didn’t know it was there before, you couldn’t miss it now. It shown with daylight in the dark forest. It grew warmer as they drew closer. The clearing was full of color and light. When they got close enough, they could see a young woman singing and dancing in the clearing. She wore a long red dress, her gold bracelets and necklace jingling and clinking together as she danced. Her black hair was pined up. The whole clearing was filled with red leaves and golden decorations, blessings of happiness, as a cold spring breeze filled the rest of the forest.

“You should distract her,” Theo whispered to Stiles and he looked at him like he was crazy.

“What? No way!”

Lydia shrugged, “it is your wedding.”

Stiles looked around at the group, hearing no objections. “You’re going to feel really bad if I get sacrificed. Again.”

He stood up, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his favorite grey hoodie and started into the clearing. It was like walking through a portal. It felt weird and disorrienting. He looked back and saw no signs of the forest behind him. He looked down at himself to take note that he was still in tact.

His hoodie and jeans had been turned to a red and gold Chang Pao Ma Gua. He felt strings and cypress leaves in his hair. Gold bracelets jinggled as he moved his hands. “What the Hell,” he sighed.

“Ah, the boy who walks with wolves,” the girls said in Middle Chinese, looking at Stiles excitedly. “Where is your wolf?”

“I have no clue what you’re you’re saying but I don’t think it’s good,” Stiles said.

“It is good, child. I have brought you hear to show you and bridge a gap you won’t by yourself,” the woman declared in english, looking about. “Where is your wolf?”

“My what,” Stiles asked.

“The wolf,” she said patiently as if she was speaking to a little kid. “Where is he?”

Leaves rustled as the pack stepped into the clearing. None of their clothes changed as they stepped in which was so stupid, why was it just Stiles? The woman looked at each face and shook her head.

“No, no. Not that one. Where is your wolf, dear boy,” she asked calmly. The woman took Stiles’s hand in hers. Stiles didn’t pull away, feeling a kind of calm as she held his hand. When she touch him, strings appeared. Green and Blue and Black and Red strings each tied to one of his fingers appeared.

“Holy shit,” Stiles yelled.

Scott moved forward, placing a hand on Stiles’s shoulder. “Are you okay…. Whoah. What the…”

“Uh, Dude. Can you see this,” Stiles asked.

The woman lifts the red string with a finger, she hums at the tension in the string and smiles to herself. “Strange. I thought he’d be here,” she hummed.

An arrow whizzed through the air and stuck into the woman. As close as she was, the the feather at the end of the arrow brush Stiles as the woman moved. She straightened up and looked downa t the arrow quizzically.

“Sorry Stiles,” Hayden said, cringing. Sometimes Stiles wished she’d stick to claws.

“Mistletoe,” she whispered, pulling it out of her chest. “What a silly choice,” she said with a smile looking at the pack, spotting Hayden who had readied another arrow. “Dear girl, what do you think I am?”

Stiles looked at the woman. “You’re not a Darach?”

“A Darach?” The woman laughs. “Silly wolves, I’m not a Darach. I’m Yue Lao.” Her eyes landed on Kira among the pack. “Gekkahyoujin for the little fox.”

“Isn’t Gekkahyoujin an old man,” Kira asked, trying to recall the stories she’d been told as a child.”

“Gods are not bound to one form my dear,” the woman, Yue Lao told her.

“Why are you here,” Malia asked.

Yue Lao looked up at her. “Isn’t it obvious? Look around, dear child! This was to be a wedding. Look up at the beautiful moon and see. You will understand soon my child.”

Without another word, the woods was left bare. The pack was left to look around in bewilderment. It was all gone in a second.

“Uh, dude,” Scott said.

Stiles didn’t pay any attention to whatever Scott was trying to point out, to struck by how the strings remained tired to his fingers. His gaze came to his wrist and saw red clothing. He pulled at his hoodie and noticed it had been turned red.

“Aw man,” Stiles sighed.

After a conversation with Kira and a few minutes of research, it was obvious what they were: Strings of fate. He knows what the red is but he can't see who it’s is attached to. The others took more to figure out. Blue is friendship. Blue strings connect him to most of the pack. Green is for relatives. Black makes him sick. He has two black strings that look like they were cut. Black means the person your string was tied to died. They all have black strings. Scott has the most.

He’d noticed that all of his strings looked like thay had been knotted, so had Scott’s. He wondered if it had something to do with the whole dying and coming back thing Sophmore year.

Stiles learned he could tell when someone he was tied to was close. He joked it was his own supernatural super sense. He decided then that he didn't want to meet who his red string was tied to until all this supernatural bullshit was over– meaning never.

Time came and went. Derek had yet to come back, something about a Kanima in San Francisco. Stiles started to like sitting in the park, watching people. He smiles when he sees couples with red strings that connect them tied in a neat bow. He’d learned that that bow was a turning point. For some it was marriage or a kid or almost losing each other. He cried the first time he watches a string snap and turn black. The person didn't notice.

When the pack learns what he can see, they ask about their strings. Stiles refuses to tell Scott he doesn't have a red string. He's pretty sure Scott's red string turned black.

Stiles was sitting in the park when he got a text from Derek that he’s back and Stiles shivers. He can't imagine the number of black strings he has. So, Stiles avoids seeing it. He only talks with the pack through calls and texts. It’s strange. He had grown used to spending time at Derek’s. It was like he realized how much free time he really had.

Stiles froze the first time he felt the string get really tight. He knew they were close so he ran. He ran as in the opposite direction so he dind’t have to know. Anytime his red string tightened, he went in the opposite direction no matter how his heart aches to know. He wants so badly to have someone to love and be loved by. But meeting the person he was meant to be with felt too risky. His supernatural baggage had destroyed so many relationships and he couldn't risk this one.

Seeing the world wrapped up in strings got overwhelming. Seeing people's loved ones silently slipping away was wearing on him.

Stiles found himself walking through the preserve with a bottle of Jack far too many nights. He was trying to escape other people. He didn't know why he was there instead of his room but he was. He doen’t know why the preserve felt safe, it wasn’t. Ever type of monster and big bad had come through the preserve.

He was out one night and found the clearing what they’d met Yue Lao. He drunkenly giggled to himself. It was about a good a spot as any to lay down and drown in his sorrows. He'd blame the alcohol for numbing him to the tightening of his red string but he felt it, he just didn’t care. He was too tired, too overwhelmed, too drunk, too done with it all.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t move when he started hearing footsteps. Stiles lifted his head as the string tugged on his pinky and saw Derek walk into the clearing.

Stiles dropped his head back to the ground. "Of course, it's you," Stiles chuckled drunkenly, slowly shaking his head. He closes his eyes, feeling dizzy.

"Are you going to be able to find your way home later," Derek asked, walking closer.

"Sure," Stiles slurs. He could feel how close Derek was but refused to look at him. He didn't want to see the black strings hanging off of him. It would hurt too much.

"Any reason you won't look at me?"

Stiles hums. "The world's spinning too much," he mumbled. It wasn't a lie, just not the whole truth.

Stiles had learned werewolves couldn't tell the difference. If something was objectively true and you believed it was at least partially true, they couldn't tell. That and them not being able to accurately tell lies over the phone were major tools in Stiles's arsenal.

Derek sighed that annoyed sigh he always did when the pack did something stupid– like a disappointed parent Stiles thought. Derek would believe the half-truth, Stiles knew that for sure. It was very believable at the moment. Stiles probably reeks of alcohol to the werewolf. He'd managed to spill some on himself when he broke the seal. Stiles could tell his breath smelled of the stuff.

Derek looked around the forest. It was teeming with life. It was unsettling that Stiles had seemingly unknowingly laid himself on the ground not far from the Nematon. Were it anyone else, Derek would have already left them to fend for themselves, but it was Stiles.

"If you don't plan on dying out here, you might want to head back," Derek said, watching the treeline as much as he watched Stiles.

Stiles groaned. "Come here, Derek," he sighed.

He heard the leaves crunching as Derek walked closer and Stiles smirked. Derek grunted, falling back on his ass. Stiles laughed to himself. He’d surrounded himself in mountain ash for the very reason of being in the preserve. The image in his head was too good not to get to see the real thing.

Stiles opened his eyes, using his hand to help him balance as he rolled to his side, and looked at Derek. His laughing quickly ceased, his mouth going dry. It was like all the air had been knocked out of him. Stiles thought it would be the black strings that hung heavily off Derek that would throw him but that red string… Stiles’s eyes followed the tight line of red string from Derek to his hand.

When Stiles’s brain caught up to what it was seeing, an avalanche of thoughts and memories piled onto him. It’s Derek. Of course, it’s Derek. He went to Derek every time someone kicked him to the curb. Derek didn’t need Stiles’s chaos dragging him down. Derek had let Stiles rant to him for hours. Derek was more than out of his league, he was out of Stiles’s universe! Derek had played with Stiles’s hair when he fell asleep on him. Derek was still trying to get used to letting people in. Derek had never turned Stiles away when he showed up at random. Derek had been burned by relationships every time he tried. Stiles had abandoned his dreams and let his lovelife fall apart to help Derek and the pack. Derek didn’t need to worry about Stiles’s human ass all the time. Didn’t he already? Wasn’t Derek the one pulling away Stiles’s pain while he was stitched up after fights? It was stupid and would never happen. Stiles had yet to see the strings be wrong, though. They were always right in the end. It didn’t matter because Derek deserved better! He deserved more than Stiles. He deserved someone who knew what was going on. Someone who would be helplfull in protecting Beacon Hills, not someone who was one good hit away from death. He was seven years older than Stiles! Stiles was a child next to him. Derek shouldn’t have to play babysitter for a stupid, talkitive, hyperactive, loud, annoying—

“—iles! Stiles!”

Stiles was staring at Derek, at that stupid string. His breathig was fast. It was hard to take a full breath– hey, when did that happen? Stiles squeezed his eyes closed again. Fuck his head hurt. He could feel his pulse against his skull. Stiles dug his fingers into the dirt beneath him. Breath. Calm down, breath. He opened his eyes, trying to ground himself, and saw Derek fighting to get through the mountain ash surrounding him. He closed his eyes again, his hand sweeping out of it’s own accord and breaking the circle.

Leaves crunched and shifted as Derek crawled the last bit of distance between them. He Pushed Stiles to sit up, a hand pressed to his back to hold him up and the other on his arm.

Stiles opened his eyes, he wanted to see the red string, just to be sure but not before– “I’m gonna throw up,” he mumbled, turning away from Derek and Barfing all over the forest floor. Stiles leaned into Derek, feeling him tense. Stiles huffed a laugh, looking down at Derek’s hand next to his.

And a little red string tied in a neat bow.

Stiles smiled at it and, just as quickly as they appeared, all of the strings were gone.

“Derek?”

“What?”

Stiles took a breath and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything…”

This time it was Derek who laughed. “Gonna have to be more specific than that,” he said.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Stiles mumbled.

Derek tensed for a moment and then relaxed next to Stiles, pulling him closer. “I know I love you.”

“Just had to one-up me,” Stiles huffed a laugh. “As romantic as this is, could we maybe not end up having our first kiss by a pile of my own vomit?”

Derek nodded, helping Stiles stand up. “Believe me, you won’t have to worry about doing any kissing until you brush your teeth and sober up.”

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek #5 + 1 fic #red string of fate #sterek fanfiction #sterek fic #sterek fandom #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf fandom #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfiction

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hedwig221b · 1 month ago

Note

Do you have any Bad Friend Scott sterek fic recs?

Sorry for taking so long to answer! Here are a few

Protect and Serve by MoonlitMemories

Stiles discovers the Nemeton starting to grow again in the preserve on Hale land. What does that mean for the pack? More importantly: why does the Nemeton seem so attached to Stiles?

Sparks and shadows by Nival_Vixen

Stiles has to figure out a way to maintain a balance between his spark and the darkness inside of him.

spiderweb of lies by pineneedlepants

Derek gets a chance to gain his alpha powers back. The only one throwing a wrench in those plans is Scott.

Can't Start a Fire Without a Spark by Nerdy_fangirl_57

After the whole ordeal with the nogitsune Stiles struggles with proving to himself that he can be good again. He starts learning to control his spark in hopes that he could be helpful to the pack once he manages to channel it's power. Everyone thinks it's a great idea and are willing to help him anyway they can, but Scott, Scott doesn't see the point in it. It's not like Stiles' tiny spark could ever be powerful enough to be an actual asset to the pack. Stiles just wants a chance to prove himself.

Stiles Must Die by xcaellachx

Diagnosed with Frontotemporal Dementia, Stiles is given 2-6 months to live. He and his father know Scott will give Stiles the bite to cure him. Scott says no. "Stiles must die to maintain the balance." The Sheriff finds a different way.

Made Your Mark on Me (A Golden Tattoo) by writteninthewolfstar

Beacon Hills High and Lycan Heights High are well-known enemies. Derek Hale, Lycan Heights' star quarter-back, is well-known for being aggressive and arrogant. Imagine Stiles surprise when he discovers that Derek Hale is actually his soul-mate.

The End, The Beginning by CoronaCrown

Scott had never trusted Derek, and even less so when he found out that the Hale Alpha was dating Stiles. Poor, naive Stiles, who was only human and broke easily. Scott would be damned it he let the feral wolf do anything to his friend, but even the Sheriff is wrapped around Derek's finger, it's not going to be easy to take what's his: Stiles back in the McCall pack. And so when a month after graduation and Scott had heard nothing of Derek, he is immediately suspicious. He's sure the wolf's done something to Stiles, the stupid human probably fell for whatever siren trick Derek pulled. In which Scott is so self-absorbed that he decides to play the hero for a prize that was never his to begin with.

Leave It All Behind by asarcasticwitch

A coil of panic tightens in his chest as, after just three short rings, Derek’s voice—raspy as if barely awake—echoes through the speaker. “Do you know what time it is?” he grumbles, and at any other time, Stiles would’ve made a joke or retorted with something so sarcastic it would’ve undoubtedly earned him a huff in return. But right now, he can’t think of anything to say.

To Build a Pack by Arieanna

Derek feels a pull in his chest, and it's a pack bond to Stiles. He thought the young man had betrayed him along with Scott, but finding out the truth, he makes Stiles a part of his pack. Now, with the pack coming together in a healthy way, they help Stiles discover that he's not just a sidekick, but a major player, and more important than Scott had ever given him credit for. The more Derek pulls Stiles into the pack, though, the harder it is to ignore the feelings that he's been having for the boy since they met. Stiles, on the other hand, has fallen out of love with Lydia, and can't figure out just why that happened.

Elastic Heart by HarleyJQuin

A wolf in shining armor comes to the rescue when Stiles needs him the most.

The Sound of Silence by Asterekmess (Livinginfictions)

Everyone is so sure Derek is dead, but Stiles can't accept it. Not when there are so many loose ends.

I'm (Not) Fine by Desmenn

Scott is finally old enough to get bitten and turned. He doesn't even hesitate. Which leaves Stiles alone while his best friend runs off chasing girls and wolves. But trying to cheer up some melodramatic teenage boy is not at the top of the list of things that need to be done- and Stiles' knows it. Because there are people in town threatening the Hale pack and Derek can't shake this sense of foreboding. Not to mention he's pretty sure one of Scott's friends is his mate.

Bare Hands, Scarlet Dawn

“With your bare hands, baby?” Derek chuckled quietly. “Damn.” And Stiles… laughed. It was short and stiff, full of disbelief and something raw under its skin. But, god, only Derek could make him laugh when his entire world was crumbling down.

Full and Void

Stiles could be meek, sure. In Derek’s arms, softened under the touch, pinned under his weight. He allowed himself to relax only in Derek’s sole presence. Stiles could also look meek. Small, scared. Let the enemies think he was hiding in his mate’s shadow. After all, no one would stop to think that the shadow could ever be dangerous.

#sterek #sterek fic #stiles x derek #eternal sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek fanfic #sterek fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf sterek #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf derek #sterek fic rec #teen wolf fic rec #derek x stiles #teen wolf #sterek ao3

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mydearzero · 20 days ago

Text

Bribes | Stiles Stilinski x Reader

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You get paired with Stiles to write a paper for Coach's class. But when had Stilinski grown into his awkward features? When had he grown out his buzzcut? Why was he suddenly so insanely fuckable?

Contents: NO Y/N, afab!Reader, smut, Stiles is a bit cocky lmao, fucking in the jeep, reader is related to Coach (wether adopted or not doesn't matter), vaginal fingering, p in v sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, clumsy sex, playful banter, oral sex (v receiving), casual sex, coming inside, mentions of birth control, making out if I missed any warnings please let me know!

3.5K words

Had to get Stiles out of (pls into plEASE) my system SOMEHOW, so here you go. This one is dedicated to @uglypastels for indulging my obsession and continuously sending me Dylan O'Brien thirst edits <3 <3

“Just so you’re aware, this paper is as high on my list of priorities as the Pope is in Amsterdam,” Stiles dropped his binder on the table, startling you out of your daydream. He was exactly 4 minutes late, not that you were counting. It was still impressive, seeing as he just came from practice.

“Believe me, I, too, would rather be hanging around with Isaac Lahey, yet we’re both here. Let’s just get it over with.” Stiles snorted a laugh, but didn’t comment.

You didn’t not get along with Stilinski. You weren’t sure if you could be called friends, exactly. You’d known each other pretty much all your lives, just like the majority of your school. Beacon Hills wasn’t exactly a metropolis.

You sighed and laid out your notes, Stiles following your example. You raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. “Those are your notes?”

There were only doodles, random calculations and sporadic keywords scribbled on the loose piece of crumpled paper he straightened out next to your notebook.

“I’m surprised, too. There’s actual words. I don’t usually get that far.” The smirk on his face could only be described as smug. You groaned. This was going to take forever. You divided the topics for the paper amongst yourselves and silently got to work. The ‘silently’ part didn't last long, however. It never did with Stiles.

“Are you still living with your uncle?” He questioned suddenly. You frowned at the question, confused, but nodded either way.

“So can’t you just, I don’t know, cook him dinner and have him give us a good grade?” The gleam in his eyes nearly made you laugh. Nearly. Instead, you flicked him on the side of the head. He whined something about unnecessary violence, but it fell on deaf ears.

“I’m not bribing my uncle just so you can slack off, Stiles. Besides, I’m never really sure if he even likes me,” you wondered out loud.

“You and me, both…” Stiles grumbled.

You glanced at Stiles as he scribbled furiously, seeming to finally get some of his research done. His knees wiggled excessively as he wrote about the economic effects of pandemics. You wrote down a few key parts of the paragraphs in your book before turning to your laptop and beginning the outline of the paper. Stiles hummed quietly as he read the entry he’d just written, tapping his pen furiously against the table.

“Can you stop that?” You requested, his incessant movement distracting you more than his general being already did. He glanced up, an amused expression on his face.

“What,” he tapped his pencil faster. “This?” You contained the urge to roll your eyes and stared at him blankly. He stopped the movement for perhaps one whole minute before picking it back up again.

You only glanced up pointedly this time. He added a jiggle of his knees in challenge. You rose from your chair, leaned over and snatched the pen out of his hand, throwing it across the library. “Fetch.”

Stiles gaped up at you in surprise. The timing of it was very unfortunate, but you’d never really noticed how Stilinski had grown into his awkward features. Something must’ve shown on your face, because Stiles now looked just as confused, perhaps intrigued, as you felt. While you’d been confident in throwing his pen across the room in annoyance, having him look up at you like that made it so you weren’t sure if you wanted him to get up. You cleared your throat and sat back in your chair.

“Unbelievable…” Stiles muttered under his breath as he got up to get the pen. It gave you time to recompose. You didn’t look at him as he sat back down, but felt his eyes burn a hole through the side of your head.

An unfamiliar tension hung in the air while you worked in silence. You snuck glances at Stiles, who was finally focussed on his writing once more. His hair was longer, still messy and unstyled from practice. The grey workout gear perfectly accentuated his broadened shoulders. He bit his lip after reading a complex entry, and you couldn’t help but wonder what they’d feel like on your own, or on your neck while your hands tugged on his now perfectly tuggable locks.

A few times his eyes met yours. You’d quickly dart them back to your notebook, pretending you hadn’t been looking, knowing damn well he’d seen.

Oh my god. Get. it. together.

“Did you finish?” You dared ask after a while, having completed your own part. All you had to do was put your parts together, wrap it up and finish.

“I’ll give it to you, but you have to give something to me first,” Stiles spoke in a challenging tone. For a split second back there you’d wondered how he was still single after all this time, but now you were reminded. He was insufferable.

“What could you possibly want from me, Stiles? Just give me your damn part.”

“A kiss.”

“What? No!” You sputtered. Stiles’ tongue poked the inside of his cheek cockily as he raised an eyebrow, pointing to his lips.

“Guess you’ll have some explaining to do to your uncle why you’re only handing in half an assignment, then.”

“This is coercion, Stilinski! Should I call your dad?” You crossed your arms, refusing to look him in the eye. The librarian shushed you loudly. You could feel heat rush to your face, but didn’t relent. Asshole.

Stiles leaned closer, running a finger over the side of your face. Your heartbeat increased what seemed about tenfold.

“It’s not coercion if you want me to.” His breath hit your neck as he spoke, sending goosebumps down your arms. “And I’m getting the feeling you really want me to.”

You jerked away from his reach, coming to your senses. You gathered your things into your bag, mumbling something about your GPA being fine, anyway. You stomped away from the table, heart racing. You were mad, not because he was suggesting something you didn’t want, rather that he’d clocked exactly what you wanted so easily.

Concerned Stiles would follow you out of the library, you hid behind a few bookshelves in a section nobody usually visited. You caught your breath, placing your palm on your chest. You dropped your bag on the floor, turning to peek around the bookshelf to see if Stiles was still stationed at the table. Relieved, you saw he’d indeed decided to follow you out of the library.

You turned back to grab your bag and head out, but were met with Stiles’ face mere inches from your own. You were startled, but he grabbed your waist before you could fall over. His hold was strong. Your hands instinctively went up to his chest, steadying yourself. Had he always been this tall?

One of his hands wandered slightly lower, rubbing small circles on your lower back. Your eyes met his, which were just shining with mischief and an underlying sense of self-satisfaction. His tongue darted out, licking his lower lip.

“Can I be frank? You’re incredibly annoying,” you stated, slinging your arms around his neck, finally giving in.

“You can be whoever you want as long as I get to kiss you, Frank,” Stiles laughed. You groaned but pulled him close either way.

“Shut up.”

Stiles obliged and put his mouth to yours aggressively, tugging your body against his. One of his hands wandered up, cupping the back of your head to bring it closer. You tugged at the small locks at the back of his neck, eliciting a sighed moan from Stiles.

“You’re so hot,” he confessed when you broke apart for a second. He turned you so you were pushed with your back against the bookcase, a few books falling to the floor. Neither of you cared as your kiss continued, deepening by the second. His hands held your hips as he started grinding against you, sweats low on his hips. His mouth made its way down your jaw, moving to suck hasty kisses on your neck.

“Stiles…” you sighed blissfully. Heat gathered in your stomach at the soft, breathy noises coming from his lips combined with the sound of them against your skin. He put his knee between your thighs.

“Knew you wanted this as much as I did, fuck,” Stiles groaned. The pressure from his knee was delicious, but not enough. It was almost as if he could read your mind as he slid his hand into your bottoms, working your underwear out of the way somewhat clumsily.

“God… so wet for me,” he moaned. You could only reply with breathy whimpers, trying to make as little noise as possible. Stiles shushed you, placing his unoccupied hand over your mouth as the other started rubbing small circles over your clit. You closed your eyes and let your head fall against the bookcase. Your knees went weak at the sensation, not much holding you up besides Stiles.

He slipped his hand out of your underwear, bringing a finger up to his mouth. He casually licked it clean. He hooked his thumbs into your bottoms, seeking eye contact and asking for non-verbal permission to tug them down. You bit your lip and nodded enthusiastically. When your underwear hit the floor, so did Stiles’ knees. Your eyes darted around your environment, but the school was nearly empty at this time, especially the library.

You had to slap your hand over your mouth when Stiles made contact with your clit, his tongue tentatively licking between your folds. Your breathing was laboured, chest heaving as Stiles took his time exploring. Your bottom lip found itself between your teeth, holding in your moans. Your hands shot to Stiles’ hair. Perfectly tuggable, indeed.

He groaned when you gave an exceptionally sharp tug, taking the time to look you in the eyes. The vibrations of his lowered voice felt good. You had seemingly no control over your hands, fingers tightening their grip the closer you got to the edge.

“Shit, baby… So good for me. Gotta stay quiet…” Stiles mumbled. A small, high pitched keen left your lips. You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to keep the silence up. You looked down once more and saw Stiles palming himself over his sweats as he continued eating you out, rhythmically grinding his hips in time with his mouth.

The sound of a bag zipper closing got your attention. You smacked Stiles’ shoulder to stop, wanting to whine in frustration at just how close you’d been. Stiles paid you no mind, lost in giving you pleasure. You put both your hands on his shoulders and pushed him away, careful not to tip him over. It was only then Stiles noticed the noise of someone packing up to leave. He scrambled to stand up, trying to help you get redressed.

“I got it, I got it,” you hissed quietly.

“Who’s there? You can’t be here anymore! Library’s about to close!” It was the librarian who’d shushed you earlier. You grabbed your bag in a hurry.

“Would you still rather be hanging out with Isaac?” Stiles asked jokingly, wiping his chin. You whacked his arm, storming past him to the doors. He followed quickly, arm wandering over your shoulders as you walked out of the now deserted school. You didn’t speak as Stiles led you over to the Jeep, insisting on driving you home, at least.

You sat in the passenger seat as Stiles ran around to the drivers’ side. You wiped your hands on your thighs, huffing a frustrated breath. You hadn’t even finished the paper, and now you got cock-blocked on top of it. So not worth it. You turned to Stiles as he put the keys in the ignition. He’d never looked hotter than that very second, lips bruised, hair tousled and still pent up, besides maybe when he looked up at you with his face buried between your legs. Okay so maybe a little worth it.

“If you keep looking at me like that I’m gonna pull over and we’re gonna have sex in the back seat like right now,” Stiles joked. Or at least, you assumed it was a joke.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, threat or invitation?”

“Option D? All of the above? I mean, D is definitely an option.”

“Pull over and we’ll see how much of an option it is.”

Stiles didn’t need to be told twice, pulling over in a small clearing as soon as he saw the opportunity. He took off his seatbelt, scrambling to get out of the car. He opened the door for you, closing it and letting you in the back seat. You laid back across the seats and manoeuvred your top off, throwing it at Stiles. He caught it, quickly discarding it somewhere in the car. He shimmied his pants down his legs, not bothering to take off his shoes. You did the same, leaving you in your underwear. Stiles stopped to take a proper look.

“You’re gonna kill me. You’ve already killed me and this is my pre-hell Heaven trailer of what could’ve been. God iwantyousobad.” You pulled him on top of you as you laughed.

“Less talking, more fucking, yes?”

“Yes, I agree. Wholeheartedly,” Stiles nodded furiously, tugging his shirt over his head with only one hand. Hot. He finally closed the car door behind him before he could forget.

“I’m going to assume you don’t just casually keep condoms in your car?” You questioned. Stiles closed his eyes and tightened his lips in frustration, mentally scolding himself. He finally had you in his Jeep, half-naked, ready to fuck, and he didn’t have a freaking condom??? He finally shook his head no, sighing and pulling away from you slowly.

You leaned up on your elbows and whispered in his ear. “Hmmm… Guess you’re just gonna have to come inside of me… Wouldn’t want to make a mess of the car…”

Stiles pounced at that, kissing you like his life depended on it. He tugged your underwear back down your legs, now very familiar with your pelvic region. He struggled to undo your bra, cursing under his breath. You laughed and lended a hand, undoing it and slipping it off your shoulders.

“Holy shit,” Stiles groaned. “Promise me to thank Coach for pairing us up.”

“You did not just mention my uncle as a reaction to seeing me naked,” you complained.

“I did. Not sorry. He did me a favour.”

You ignored the comment and decided to kiss him to shut him back up. Him and his mouth… God his mouth. You were still pent up from the library, and if he didn’t fuck you soon you were pretty sure you’d go crazy.

“Stiles, want you,” you whined impatiently. He was too busy paying attention to your nipples, taking one between his teeth as he made eye contact. “Shit,” you gasped.

Your hands wandered down his torso, stopping at the hem of his boxers. You tugged them down, setting his very hard cock free from its confinement. The tip was red, dribbling with pre-cum. He was obviously just as pent up as you felt. You gave him a few experimental tugs with your hand before lining him up with your entrance.

Stiles took over, taking his time to slowly push inside you. You put your hands on his shoulders, holding your breath at the stretch. He was so much bigger than you’d expected. You both moaned when he bottomed out. You felt so full, it was insane. You dug your nails into his shoulders and gave him a nod, indicating he could move.

He set a slow pace, testing the waters. He was enthralled by the jiggle of your tits with every movement. Typical. His hands moved up to hold them, almost as leverage, as he picked up his pace.

“Fuck, so good,” Stiles moaned. You were about to move a hand down to touch yourself, but Stiles stopped you.

“Let me make you feel good, let me make you come.” He put one hand on your shoulder to steady himself and brought the other down to where you were joined. He continued to thrust, putting his fingers on your clit. It took him a second, but he found a rhythm where he could thrust and stroke at the same time.

“Oh my god, Stiles!” You moaned, the added sensation feeling amazing. The sound of his hips slapping against yours was filthy to say the least. You moved to hold onto something above your head as Stiles sped up. Your hands soon found the little ledge, and you gripped it to the best of your ability.

Stiles bent down to kiss you, pace still unrelenting. The new angle of him bent forward sent his cock exactly where you needed it.

“Shit, oh my god.” It was all the confirmation Stiles needed to keep it up.

“So pretty, so tight around my cock. Such pretty tits. You feel so good,” he mumbled against your lips.

The pace of his hips became more erratic, both of you nearing the edge. Your knuckles turned white with how tight you were gripping the car door.

“Gonna come inside you,” Stiles moaned. “Fill you up so nice.”

“Yes, Stiles, please!”

“Fuck, so good, so good for me,” Stiles was becoming more talkative and less coherent as he lost himself in the pleasure. He was mouthing at your jawline, sucking another hickey where there were already plenty.

“Fuck, Stiles, gonna come,” you whined. You could feel his smile against your neck. Smug idiot. He then started rubbing your clit exactly the way you liked it. Combined with him hitting that spot inside you over and over and over again, you were seeing stars.

“Don’t stop, please,” another moan left your lips.

“Come for me. Come on my cock. So pretty, so good,” Stiles blabbered.

“Fuck! Stiles!” You keened, tightening around his dick as you came. He kissed you again as his hips stuttered, thrusting a few more times before painting your walls with his cum. His head fell on your chest as you both caught your breath.

When his breathing had slowed, he groaned before lifting himself off you, chuckling as he pecked both your nipples, then your lips before looking for something to clean you with. He settled on the shirt of his lacrosse uniform.

“Ugh, gross,” you mumbled as he wiped you clean. Stiles shrugged. “It was going into the wash, anyway.”

Stiles put his underwear and sweats back on, opening the door and getting out so you could have the space to redress yourself. When you reached under the seat for your bra, you pulled out a baseball bat. “Why do you have a baseball bat in your car?”

“No… Particular reason. Safety. Lots of dangerous animals… out there.”

“So you settled on a bat?” You wondered, holding the object. Stiles nodded, not meeting your eyes, his locked on your still naked chest. You threw the bat at him and laughed, reaching under the seat again and this time pulling out your bra.

When you were finally dressed, you got back in the passenger seat so Stiles could drive you home. It wasn’t a long drive, as you’d already been halfway there before pulling over. He drove up the driveway, and you cringed on the inside, hoping your uncle wouldn’t see who dropped you off. You took your bag and got out of the car, walking around to the drivers’ side where Stiles was already leaning out the window.

You looked at him and gave him a small smile. You leaned forward to give him a kiss goodbye. “You better email me your part of the paper tonight, Stilinski.”

“You bet, babe,” he winked and gave you a salute, watching as you laughed and turned to walk inside the house.

You closed the door and took off your shoes, hanging your coat and leaving your bag by the door. “I’m home!”

Coach took one look at your appearance and frowned. Right… maybe you should’ve straightened yourself out before walking into the living room. Disheveled hair, hickeys on your neck, it wasn’t exactly rocket science as to why you were home later than usual.

“If you’re gonna be having boys over, do it when I’m not around, please? I have enough of them to deal with at practice and in class. And at least have the decency to tell an uncle who he’s dealing with.”

You cringed as the Jeep’s headlights very obviously flashed through the window at that very second, Stiles driving home. It was anything but unrecognizable.

“Stilinski!? You’re sleeping with STILINSKI?! God, kill me now. If I’m now expected to have him over for Christmas dinner you better throw me off a bridge. And you BETTER use protection because I’m NOT gonna have Mini-linski’s running around.”

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