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strangerstilinski · 1 year ago

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𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary; they say ‘showering together saves water’ or.. something like that.. right? otherwise known as, the one where sheer stupidity leads stiles into the shower with his very naked girlfriend. neither one of them is complaining about the turn of events.

warnings; no use of y/n, established relationship, explicit sexual content (vaginal fingering, handjobs, mentions of oral)

word count; +3k

a/n; i fear i'm going to be perpetually unhappy with this so i'm just biting the bullet and posting it and i'm camping so here it is an hour early!! — please be nice. if you’re interested in the original version cut from my Selenophiles series, you can find that here.

please think about leaving a comment/reblogging if you enjoy! i would appreciate either one to the actual ends of the earth.

Wrapped up in a softly hummed rendition of a song that had been rattling around in your brain all day, you didn’t even hear the bathroom door open or click shut again, not alerted to Stiles’ presence until his voice suddenly sounded just to the other side of the shower curtain.

“Hey.”

It was a simple greeting. Your boyfriend remaining entirely unaware as you flinched wildly in surprise and nearly slipped in the shower on the other side of the thin sheet of plastic that separated you.

“You mind if I brush my teeth real quick?” He asked.

Your heart was still pounding away in your chest from the scare but you forced out a breathy laugh as you reached for the shampoo.

“No, of course not,” You told him easily, “Why would I mind?”

Fingertips scrubbed at your scalp, the sounds of him already beginning to brush his teeth meeting your ears over the rush of the shower as he finally responded.

“I dunno,” He said, words garbled by the toothbrush and foam in his mouth, “You’re all.. naked, so-”

“Well that’s very noble of you,” You smiled softly to yourself, “But you really didn’t have to ask.”

“Noted.” He said through a mouthful of foam before spitting into the sink.

As you began to rinse suds from your hair, you heard the telltale clacking of his toothbrush against the side of the sink as he flicked beads of water away from the bristles. You were awaiting Stiles’ quick words of goodbye when there was a loud knock at the bathroom door.

“Stiles! You in the shower?” His father’s voice sounded loudly from the hallway.

Your heart thumped quick in your chest with sudden misplaced adrenaline and you found yourself poking your head outside of the shower curtain only to be greeted by Stiles already looking in your direction with wide brown eyes.

“Uh, yeah!” He called back weakly, gaze darting around the small room as if he might suddenly find a perfect place to hide.

“Does he not know I’m here?” You whispered sharply, brows pinched together in confusion.

“No.” Stiles hissed back, “I’m kind of a little bit grounded-”

“What?” You interrupted, still whispering despite your incredulity. “You’re grounded?”

“It’s an unspoken kind of thing but definitely implied and- And I didn’t think he’d be home ‘til late!” Stiles defended in an equally hushed whisper.

“Alright, well.. You mind if I just come in and grab the Asprin real quick?” Sheriff Stilinski's voice asked loudly.

Stiles’ eyes seemed to widen even further with a small squeak of distress, “Um-”

You threw the shower curtain open just enough to to fist your hand in the front of his shirt, yanking him forward until he stumbled and was forced to climb over the lip of the bathtub. The shower curtain was tugged back closed just as the doorknob turned and Stiles’ father cautiously peeked into the room through a cloud of steam.

Stiles was now the one standing directly under the spray of warm water, his pajamas quickly soaking through and plastering themselves to his body.

He was unable to help the way his eyes immediately dropped to the wet skin of your naked chest, but somehow, your instincts seemed to know exactly what was coming next because your hand found its way up to cover his mouth just before a soft groan could slip past his lips, the sound of it smothered by your palm.

“Sorry, my head’s killin’ me.” The Sheriff apologized as the medicine cabinet clicked open.

You uncovered Stiles’ mouth slowly and with caution, narrowing your eyes and tipping your head in a silent urge for him to formulate some sort of response. Brown eyes flicked between yours, his tongue poking out to wet his lips enticingly before he responded to his father.

“Nah, it’s cool, dad. Uh.. No biggie.”

Stiles’ eyes found their way to your naked chest yet again, bouncing back up to your face for a fraction of a second only for his gaze to fall back down to your breasts as if drawn there by an unstoppable force. His mind was decidedly blank, suddenly equipped with only enough brainpower to attempt to memorize the exact shade of your pert nipples in the soft light of the bathroom. A few beads of water from your hair curled their way around your collarbone, pooling in the small dip in your clavicle before welling over and cascading down to the swell of your breast.

You watched him swallow hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as the shower continued to spray against his fully-clothed back.

“Right. Well. G’night.” Sheriff Stilinski called out as the medicine cabinet slammed shut again.

The boy’s eyes snapped up to yours at the sharp sound, a pink flush creeping up his neck from either the warm steam of the shower, the sight of your naked body, or most likely some combination of the two.

“N-night, daddio-” Stiles replied in an admittedly high voice, shaking his head at his you in warning as he watched you pinch your lips between your teeth to hold back a laugh.

The bathroom door finally closed with a loud click and you let your head drop forward onto your boyfriend’s shoulder as you released a quiet giggle.

“Oh my god.” You breathed out.

“Sorry,” Stiles apologized, “For, uh, invading your shower.”

You lifted your head, “I quite literally pulled you in against your will.”

Stiles nodded, “Yeah. I, uh, I guess you did.”

You snorted softly in amusement and watched his eyes flick over your face in a slow trail. His gaze eventually found something of interest behind you and he seemed to hone in on it with a determined focus.

“What are you looking at?” You questioned quietly, craning your neck to examine the shower products on the shelf at your back before returning your gaze to the boy in front of you.

“I, uh.. Well. Literally, y’know.. Anything but your extremely naked body.” He choked out weakly.

A smile pulled at your lips and you inched forward to drag your hands lightly over the soaked-through cotton of his shirt, “There something wrong with my naked body, Stilinski?”

You’d said the words with a teasing lilt to your voice, but Stiles’ eyes seemed to snap back to your own sharply, “No! No, absolutely nothing-” He denied immediately.

“Okay, well, you are allowed to look, y’know,” You told him softly, like you were revealing a secret, “It isn’t like it’s anything you haven’t already seen-”

“Well, yeah but, you- You’re trying to shower and.. If I’m being totally honest, if I look now I’m gonna get painfully hard painfully fast ‘cause I’m already barely holding on here-”

At his words, you shuffled back just a fraction so you could peek down in between you, your eyes catching on the wet, tented fabric of his pajama bottoms. Your hands twitched with the desperate need to touch and you hesitated for only a second before taking ahold of the soaked material of his shirt beneath your fingers.

“Maybe you should shower, too,” You interrupted, licking your lips as you gazed back up at your boyfriend, “I mean, your dad already thinks you are, and you’re already all wet, so y’know.. We should probably get you naked-”

The moment the word left your mouth, you tightened your fingers around wet fabric and stammered quietly, ridiculously nervous considering that you were already naked. And wet.

“-And clean. Naked, to clean your- To wash your body, obviously. I mean, it only makes sense, right?” You suggested eagerly.

The fabric of his shirt inched up his torso, your deft hands revealing his hips and the thick trail of hair at his belly button, but that was where you stopped, waiting for him to give some sort of approval before lifting it any further.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s smart.” He agreed quickly, nodding for you to continue.

You stripped him of the wet article, dropping it at the opposite end of the tub with a quiet smack. When your eyes returned to his, Stiles barely held your gaze before he was cupping your face and dragging your mouth to his. He turned you back into the shower wall and you sighed in contentment as the spray of warm water finally cascaded over the side of your body once again, pleasant goosebumps erupting over your skin.

Stiles’ kisses were an enigma and they very nearly managed to catch you by surprise every time — the way he devoured your mouth with so much hunger yet was still somehow able to hold you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. His lips dragged over yours sickly sweet, thumb stroking over your cheek, fingertips digging into your scalp beneath wet hair.

You only managed to hold out for a few desperate brushes of his mouth before you were parting your lips beneath his in silent invitation. When his tongue teased against yours, you caught the taste of mint left behind from his toothpaste and you couldn’t hold back the groan that poured from your mouth into his. You suddenly found yourself craving the taste of it, prodding your own tongue between his lips on the next kiss to chase the lingering flavor in his mouth.

The wet drag of his pajama pants against your naked thighs beneath the stream of water was an immediate reminder that he was still wearing the wet article of clothing and you flicked at them idly, fingertips dipping beneath the drawstring waist. His stomach tensed beneath your hands and he pulled back from the kiss just enough to drop his forehead to yours, eyes raking over your face slowly as he attempted to catch his breath.

“What, um. What do you- I mean, do you, um..” His eyes pinched shut in frustration as his own inability to convey himself.

Your hand slid over his water-slick hip, arm circling around his waist until you could run your fingertips gently along his spine beneath the water, forcing a contented sigh from his kiss-swollen mouth at the contact.

You licked your lips in thought, “I could either jerk you off in here, or we could wait and I can blow you in your bedroom,” You offered quietly, “I’d blow you in here but I’m honestly not entirely sure how it would work with all the water in my face and-”

Stiles nearly whimpered, “You cannot say that shit and seriously expect me to not blow my load, like, immediately.”

Your mouth twisted up into a grin, “Sorry.”

You weren’t.

He dragged you just a bit closer beneath the spray, bare chests sliding against one another. A shaky exhale left his lips and cascaded across your damp cheek, his nose skating softly against clean skin as he craned down to push his face into your neck.

“No you’re not.” He shot back without hesitation.

You sighed softly, head tipping back of its own accord in an open invitation for his lips to find your skin. The soaked through material of his pajama bottoms did nothing to hide the warm, hard length of him pressing against your hip. You slipped your hand just a bit farther beneath the damp cotton until your fist found its home around him, beginning to move in firm jerks as a choked groan sounded in his throat.

“No, I’m not.” You agreed easily.

“Jesus Christ.”

“So?” You asked quietly, words spilling out toward the ceiling as your head rested against the shower wall.

“Huh?” Stiles articulated weakly, the sound swallowed up by the way his mouth was pressed into the skin beneath your jaw. A large hand slipped down the length of your spine, long fingers finding their way to your ass, merely resting there for a moment before a flick of your wrist seemed to spur him on, hand tightening over the soft flesh as he dragged you up against him just a bit harder.

Your ankle hooked around his knee easily, pulling yourself up a bit higher, warm, wet cotton still separating you as you continued to work his length beneath the material.

“Handjob in shower or blowjob in room.” You repeated the options stiffly, thoughts scattered from the feel of his fingertips digging into your backside.

“Shit.” He murmured against your neck, his hips jerking forward to meet your hand, making the movement of your wrist more difficult when it was pinned between your bodies. “I- Um.. I.. Shit-”

“It’s kinda looking like its gonna be handjob if you don’t decide otherwise pretty quick here-”

“But I-” A sharp sound was pulled from him when your hand slipped over the head of his cock, a delicious but quiet uh squeaking out onto the wet skin of your throat. “God, I really want your mouth but-” A quiet groan interrupts him but he carries on after only a brief pause, “If you stop I might die.”

He says the words so seriously that you can’t help the small laugh that pops out.

“Oh, so you want both? That’s what you’re telling me?”

“Uh-huh, yeah, fuck.. Please-”

“Seems a little-” Its your hushed words that are cut off this time, a small gasp of surprise falling from your lips when the hand on your ass creeps lower, hiking your leg up higher as two of his fingers find your wet entrance. “Little, um. A little greedy, don't you- Ah! Don’t you think?” Your teasing statement was tainted halfway through as he dipped his fingers inside, long and thick and pushing in to the third knuckle almost immediately.

He begins thrusting in time with the jerks of your hand, synchronized gasps and groans falling from your mouths for a minute before he thinks to respond.

“If you think I’m not gonna give as good as I get then-”

His words cut off with an unabashed moan against wet skin and you nosed at his jaw until he tipped his head up to meet your lips, your scolding shh silenced within the kiss.

“-Then you don’t think very highly of me, huh?” He continued as if he’d never paused at all, his words murmured between slick lips as his mouth slid against yours again and again. “It’d, uh- It’d be a fair trade-”

“Yeah?”

The whispered question was stolen from your mouth when he licked inside, hot and dirty as his nose pushed into your cheek.

“Yeah.”

His own utterance of the word was swallowed up by your gasp when his fingers crooked just so the next time he pushed them in deep. Your grip on him fell slack for only a moment before you recovered with newfound determination, matching his efforts as he sped up the rhythm of his hand.

Your thigh hitched up on his waist that much higher, all but consumed by the desperate hunger you felt to be closer. He returned the sentiment, pulling you in and crowding you back and devouring each of your sounds until it seemed as if he were everywhere all at once.

You traded kisses between stuttered breaths and heady gasps, bodies rolling into one another’s hands as you both chased after the tight pleasure coiling in your guts and building up, higher, stronger, closer–

Stiles came first, a soft whine against your tongue when your fist circled at the head of his cock, twisting and pulling his release from him in thick spurts beneath the wet cotton of his pajama bottoms. You worked him through it, taking control of the kiss as he went slack with his orgasm and finally pushing his pants to the floor of the bathtub with a wet thwack once his hips stopped twitching into your hand.

He fell back into the kiss urgently and you relinquished control without a fight, weak to do little more than throw an arm around his shoulders for support as he redoubled his efforts to make you come.

Thighs trembling, toes curling, your muscles tensed as you were worked closer and closer to your peak. His fingers hit a spot deep inside of you with every thrust and each time sparks danced up your spine with the impact, sharp noises of pleasure were dragged from your lips.

“Sti-” You whined softly, wet mouth falling against his cheek as you tried to alert him to your swiftly approaching release, “’m so close. Shit, I- ’m so close-”

“Shit,” He returned in an urgent whisper, “Shit, okay-”

He eased his hips back from your own, his free hand falling to the apex of your thighs. His lips covered yours again as he began swirling his fingertips around the swollen bud there and your whole body jolted at the sensation. Your mouth fell open with a soft cry as you came, the glide of his fingers both smoother and more sharp as he worked you through it.

As you came down you were panting, hot breaths mingling between your mouths. The steam of the shower felt almost cloying, both of you a little lightheaded from the heat and the exertion. You cracked your eyes open and found his gaze already on you, eyes hooded and heavy, the tip of his nose bumping your own.

“Holy shit.”

It came out as nothing more than a whisper against his lips, your chest heaving in time with his as you both fought to catch your breath. You loosened the tight grip your arm had taken up around his shoulders and neck, mouth slack as you tried to pull in enough oxygen to clear your head.

“That was-”

“Yeah.” He whispered in agreement, forehead falling against yours.

The tip of your thumb pressed into a dark freckle on his chest as your hand made its way down from his shoulder in a slow drag over slick skin. You swallowed around your dry mouth as your leg finally fell free from its place around him and provided instant relief to your muscles.

“You sure you can handle two more orgasms?” You questioned breathlessly, not entirely sure which response you wanted to hear as you swayed against him in the overpowering steam of the shower.

In lieu of an immediate response, his gaze fell downward and your own followed on instinct, catching sight of the long thickness of his cock, already fattening back up against his thigh with arousal.

Tongue feeling suddenly heavy, you were filled with the urge to fulfill your teasing promise, to work him toward his peak all over again with your mouth.

You voice was a breathless whisper when it finally sounded.

“Oh.”

#stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles x reader #stiles x y/n #stiles stilinski smut #stiles smut #teen wolf stiles #stiles fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinski #*#dylan obrien fanfic #dylan o'brien smut #dylan o’brien fanfiction #dylan o’brien smut #dylan o’brien imagine #dylan o'brien imagine #stiles stilinksi fanfiction

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mysticallystilinski · 5 months ago

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Can we get more high stiles content? Also love your work its genuinely makes my day 🫶🫶

faded on the beach

stiles stilinski x fem!reader

content : p n v sexual intercourse, no protection, underage (below 21) intoxication, public sex, slightly experienced stiles stoner

lav speaks: < hi! thank you much for loving my work; you’re too sweet! request as much as you want! more 🍃 stiles content ahead >

masterlist + taglist

lying on the blanket, you turned to face stiles as he applied his sunscreen to himself. he began to struggle as his back was the section needing lotion. stiles, baby, do you need help?, you giggled. no — i’m good, he grunted. it was funny to see him struggle at such a simple task.

ignoring his stubbornness, you dug in your bag for your weed. pulling out the blunt, and lighter, you placed both upon the towel. stiles eyes directed to the items on the ground, and slowly moved his eyes from there to yours.

are you thinking what i’m thinking?, he questioned.

you already know it. from then on, you took the blunt in your fingers, and slowly began to rotate it while evenly lighting the end. stiles eyes burned into your body as you burned the fire into the tip. he couldn’t deny it, stiles would fuck you anywhere he would if he could. the swim suit already left an impression on him as soon as you walked out of the house.

hey, y/n, when you’re done with that do you need me to help you with your sunscreen, he smirked. you couldn’t see his demeanor, but practically felt it pulse into you after those words came out of him. “yes stiles, only if you don’t mind”.

the tip was lit, and ready to be smoked. you shifted the weed from your position to your open lips, and took a long rip. it wasn’t your first time getting high, so you knew how much you could handle. stiles, on the other hand, could not really handle his weed.

after taking a few more hits, you handed the wood to stiles. without hesitation, he grabbed it from your fingers and took a puff.

stiles started to cough, all while not being able to handle the sensation in his lungs. god damn’ it, he managed to choke out. you giggled as your breathing started to become staggered. the feeling was a little hazey, but would soon intensify.

do you wanna take another? he offered. you slyly nodded as he passed the blunt back over into your direction. taking another hit, you locked eyes with stiles. an idea popped into your head.

you sat up onto your knees, and motioned for stiles to sit in front of you. stiles gave you a look of confusion before you filled your mouth with smoke and connected your lips together. blowing the smoke into his mouth, he pulled you closer.

stiles inhaled most of the sweet mixture of your lips and the weed, and delved into the kiss. pulling you onto his lap, you wrapped your arms around his neck, being careful not to drop the blunt. he pulled away to exhale, almost immediately out of breath.

god — you taste so good y/n

you blushed, stiles could make you feel that way with a snap of his fingers. those fingers have made you feel good so many times. let’s make it once more. you tugged upon stiles hair, interlocking your fingers within it with one hand.

you threw the roach upon the ground and placed the other hand on his back. your fingers traced circles, lines, anything you could think of all while he was thinking of fucking you. stiles mind was filled with thoughts of taking you right there on the beach. so why wouldn’t he?

stiles hand made his way from your back, to the hem of your swim suit bottoms. sti, stop teasing please, you groaned out. your head was already pounding with thoughts and waves of pleasure. you felt stiles long fingers make his way under the lace of the fabric, and quickly find your throbbing clit.

he didn’t hesitate.

the boy began to slowly rub his way through your folds, finding all the perfect spots in all the right places. you couldn’t tell if it was the intoxication, or just his fingers that made it this pleasurable. does it feel good? he slurred. you moaned out in a giggly response, giving a quick answer.

while delving through your folds, stiles took his other hand and brought it upon your chin. look at me baby. his eyes were low, and so were yours. it almost seemed as though they were glowing a passionate red. seeing the expression from your pleasure made stiles smirk. he got horny quickly, a bulge appearing through his swim trunks.

you know, you make me feel so good y/n, stiles groaned as he stuck a finger into you. blissfully aware, this caused your high to heighten. your mind was boggling from the fingers deep inside your pussy, plus the weed making it’s way into your system. please just fuck me already stiles.

stiles thought you looked so cute begging for his cock right then and there. you couldn’t tell from your eyes being closed in pleasure, but stiles was staring at every inch of you. your clothed tits, your beautiful body, your gorgeous face. he loved absolutely everything about you.

sticking another finger in you, stiles began to go faster as you continued begging him to fuck you. please, please, please, you repeatedly whimpered. abruptly, stiles removed both fingers from your soaked heat. tilting your head in confusion, you were about to protest until you saw stiles pumping his cock through his shorts.

baby — can i help you with that?, you pleaded. stiles eyes met yours as he slowly tilted his head back with his mouth open. incoherent moans slipped out of his mouth just before you decided to help him out. you moved closer to him, and pulled the slip of your bottoms off to the side.

aligning yourself with his dick, you slowly lowered down. a gasp came out from both of your mouths. stiles was still inaudible as the high kicked up a notch, and you couldn’t believe the blissful feeling. stiles was making you so slap-happy to the point of no return.

stiles grabbed the sides of your hips with his hands. knuckles white, he bounced you up and down on his cock. it was a mutual feeling of success and attraction. you couldn’t get enough of eachother. your eyes flickered from the back of your head, to make contact with his. to your surprise, he was already staring at you.

mouth open, heavy breathing, stiles was a moaning mess. the way you clenched around his cock made him closer than he ever was before. he was as deep as he could get, trying to fit all of himself inside of you. he swore he could see stars floating around your body – or maybe that was just the drugs.

i’m gonna cum stiles, you whimpered. his eyes pierced almost into your skull as you said those words. igniting a flame inside him, he proceeded to go deeper and faster. not to mention the pleasure on his end was incredible. he felt a wetness quickly approaching his covered cock as you covered your mouth to stifle your moans.

let me hear you princess.

you cried louder and louder. your eyes felt heavy as he practically pounded into you. you felt him release shortly after your orgasm was finished. streams of cum filled inside your pussy. feeling filled to the brim, you got off of stiles in a stupor.

your high slowly faded as you were placed on the blanket by stiles. he covered you up with a clean towel, and proceeded to start to pack up. stopping in his tracks, he asked:

so – do you still need that sunscreen put on?

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lucky-punk-lemonade · 23 days ago

Text

Temptation Greets You

| Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back. Stiles comes across a small dosage of pollen out in the woods.

[smut MDNI 18+; sex pollen; 3k words] Stiles Stilinski

This work belongs to me, lucky-punk-lemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

He was so fucking stupid. “You guys are so fucking stupid.”

Going out into the Beacon Hills Wildlife Preserve was a regular occurrence for Stiles, but you always expected them to be at least a little bit careful. You’d have thought that he’d turn back and plan for more research when Stiles stumbled upon a freshly abandoned coven ritual ground with suspicions of black magic. No, he needed to poke around and take notes without checking their surroundings or prioritizing their own safety. Stiles picked up a mortar and pestle, underestimating the powdery substance left inside, and brought it up to look closer. The wind picked up the powder, blowing it into Stiles’s face. After the initial panic, he called to tell you. The threat of a powdered drug was skeptical as the powder was a deep blue. You rambled off a thousand excuses or hopes of what it could be. Less harmful things like spirulina or a kind of dried starch, something weird but harmless that witches use. Stiles had only inhaled a small amount, but you knew that amount of a particular drug could kill in minutes. You didn’t want to risk it.

Your car was haphazardly parked halfway off of the trail. Your coat was halfway on as you rushed over the uneven ground, imagining the grief tonight would be with a broken or sprained ankle. Stiles was sitting on a tree stump, elbows resting on his knees. You step closer to get a good look at Stiles. It had been 20 minutes. That’s how long it took for you to get to the wildlife reserve in your car. He looked fine. A little tired, but he rolled his eyes as you rotated his head in your hands. “I’m okay. I feel fine. You were probably right.”

“We have to get you to a hospital. It could be-“

“It was probably that stuff you said.”

“Spirulina.”

“Yeah, witches use stuff like that all the time.”

You tried to get a better look into his eyes, but he pulled away from your touch. You thought his pupils looked blown. You fussed over him to get him up and walking. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“No-“

You grabbed his keys from his pocket before he could finish and herded him out of the woods toward the trail. Stiles went silent, walking in front of you awkwardly. He really did look fine.

He only started having trouble breathing when you were on the trail back to the main road. You cursed and sped up, headed to the hospital, grabbing your phone to call Melissa when his hand grabbed your wrist.

“Pull over.”

“We’re going to the hospital, it’s—“

“Pull over.”

“No, you could be-“

“It’s not a drug, not like that. I knew it wasn’t- I shouldn’t have let you- I didn’t think it was enough.”

“Stiles, if it wasn’t a drug, what the hell was it?”

“Please just pull over.”

“It’s not fatal? Will it hurt you?”

“Please.”

The crack in his voice and the way he pushed his head against the headrest and squeezed his eyes closed shifted your attitude from panicked to empathetic. You pulled the jeep off the trail and parked it, still buzzing with anxiety as his breath came out almost violently. He breathed like that in between fragments of his thoughts.

“I did some research about the coven.”

He kept his eyes closed, and his hand gripped the Jeep’s door handle tight.

“The blue powder wasn’t a drug. It- I couldn’t tell….”

He seemed beyond embarrassed; his ears were red. “It’s an aphrodisiac derived from a mix of herbs and flowers. Pollen. The members of the coven use it for various holistic purposes but mostly in rituals to gods of fertility or prosperity. They mix it with water to create a paste and-“

He winces, leaning forward and harshly thumping his head against the dash and resting it there. You reach forward out of pity.

“Please don’t.” He takes a deep breath and continues, “They make markings, they…fuck, whatever. You need to- I should…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He opens the Jeep door and stumbles out. You yell his name, but he turns around. “Just leave the woods for a few hours. Come back at dusk. I should be better.”

“Stiles, if it’s an aphrodisiac, why is it hurting you?”

“This- God, it’s not- aphrodisiac is a simplification; if I don’t get some sort of…of release, it’s gonna keep hurting. It’s gonna get worse. I’m not gonna be in my right mind. I need you to just go home and come back in a few hours, okay?”

“I’m not gonna leave you out here, hurting in the cold woods for a few hours, Stiles.”

Stiles actually whimpers. It’s like the sound of you saying his name hurts. Or something else.

“I won’t be able to think straight, just drive. I’ll be okay. Don’t call anyone. Don’t tell Scott or Isaac. I’ll figure it out. Just go.” The words are starting to seem taxing, hard even to say. He begins to walk into the trees. You think about how hard it’ll be to find him in the huge wildlife preserve. For a minute, you consider leaving him. He’s done the research; he’s been out in these woods alone before and gotten home okay, but he wasn’t under the influence of anything then.

You get out of the Jeep and walk around to the passenger side, where he had walked off the trail. As soon as he hears the door shut, he turns, the sight of you out of the vehicle making him throw his head back in frustration. He yells, and it stops you in your tracks. “Get back in the Jeep, just get back in the fucking Jeep!”

And he’s walking toward you. He’s almost scary, his voice a little unrecognizable in such a low register. You do; you get back in and yelp a little as he reaches the passenger door. He presses his palm to it, almost hitting the metal. He looks utterly desperate, upset, frustrated, scared, even. “Please, just…just stay inside. Just..”

Stiles leans his forehead against the door, shoulders heaving up and down. His pleas fade. Before they become silent, though, his tone shifts from “Please stay inside” to “Please help me.” He mutters softly, no longer even speaking to himself and, if you weren’t listening hard enough, to no one. “I need..” he says breathily, pathetically.

He moves to lean against the front bumper, resting his forehead against the cold metal. You crank the window down just slightly and speak in a small voice, “Stiles?”

He doesn’t move. He just keeps sucking in air and huffing it out. You’re worried now. It’s not what you thought. He looked like he couldn’t breathe, and his fists were clenched, his head buried in his arms on the cold hood of his Jeep.

“It’s cold, Stiles. I can’t leave you, just…just get in, okay?”

“I can’t- not you.”

“What? Stiles, if you need help, we can figure it out. I’ll find a witch or something, just-“

“You can’t help me. The only thing…”

You remember his words. He needs some kind of release, aphrodisiac, understatement, et cetera. “Stiles. Let me help you figure this out. I understand. Please get back in the Jeep.”

And then, you unlock the vehicle and pop the door open. It swings wide, and he looks up. He looks a little scared, a little worried. His eyebrows are knitted together painfully, his shoulders heaving up and down, hot breath leaving his airways visibly in the cold. Stiles shakes his head.

“I understand. Let me…let me help. I can-“

He’s slowly walking around the door, hands still in clenched fists and breath labored. “I can’t.”

“It’s okay, I can help. I know what you need, and I know it hurts. Just let me help you.”

“Not you…Not like this.”

“Come here.”

His eyes flutter, and he takes a few steps toward the car, toward you. Your hand touches his shoulder, and he whimpers. His hands moved quickly, grabbing the seat lever and pulling it back. The back of the seat fell, lying flat, catching your attention until you looked back at Stiles. He was hefting himself up into the Jeep toward you. You didn’t realize he was herding you into the back until you were sitting on the reclined back of the passenger seat. His arms, after reaching to shut the door, spanned wide. One hand was on the driver's seat headrest, the other bracing himself against the interior. It made him look bigger. He looked hesitant. “You don’t know what you’re doing…”

“It’s okay. I can…help. I can help.” Your hand reached up to bring his down from the headrest.

“I can’t…not to you.”

“Well, I’m not leaving you, and I want to help.”

His eyes scanned the Jeep, taking in the cramped space. His eyes seemed unfocused, the effects worsening. He didn’t speak as he pushed your shoulders down, cradling your head as you lowered. He planted his knees on the sides of the seat, hooked his arms around your thighs, and pulled you down by your hips. He looked desperately up at you, trying to convey an ask but failing and giving you the most pleading look you’d ever seen. You breathlessly nodded, and he dramatically dropped his head onto your chest in relief. His hands immediately gripped your hips, but they were restless and curious, and needy. He watched as his own hand relaxed and kneaded the denim-trapped skin of your hips as if he didn’t know what his perverted hands would do next. His other palm leveled, and his fingers parted, relaxed from fists, and moved slowly, experimentally up your ribcage under your shirt. The entire time, his face looked guilty—upset, even.

“I should’a brought you.” His voice is distracted, but he means it. “You’re so careful.” His eyes are glued to the way his hands line your curves, up and down, but his words are genuine. When his short-lived need to just touch you was gone, he closed his eyes in shame. He needed more.

He presses himself against you, eyes hardening in intense and conflicted emotions, and his hands squeezing and grabbing at you mindlessly. It would be pathetic if he weren’t so completely driven. He still wasn’t saying much, kneeling between your legs as he bent them at the knees and pushed them up and out wide to make room for himself. Once he does, he’s pressed into you again. You think the warmth between you is only something you notice, but Stiles groans and rests his forehead back against your chest again, even if it takes some craning of his neck downward. His forehead was burning up, and the sheen of sweat, while thin, made him almost glow in the early-setting winter sun. You can feel him hardening in his jeans. It was impossible to ignore, especially when he started rocking against you.

His hands retreated from your hip, from the seat beneath you, holding him up, to unzip his jeans. His mind is foggy, you can tell because his hands shake and struggle between his zipper and yours, not knowing which to focus on first. You softly reach down and unzip his jeans. His hands pause, and you look up, making debilitating eye contact, and you think he might pass out. He’s sweating, shaking, silent. All things your Stiles isn’t usually—or at least not all at once. Of course, he’s never seen you like this, conversely. Underneath him and willing to let him, rather, wanting him to touch you.

You jumped when he scrambled to get your jeans undone and yanked down—or up. Up your legs in your position. Everything about this made Stiles want to whine. You, how close you are, how long he’s wanted you, the position he’s got you in, what you’re gonna let him do, where you’re letting him do it. In his Jeep, out in the woods off a secluded trail. He wanted to speak, to make this perfect like he wanted. How he imagined when he was in his room mumbling your name and pumping his hand as if it was yours. But he was so damn impatient and it hurt and you were so willing. He spoke softly and barely intelligibly as he pulled his jeans and boxers down just enough and your underwear to the side, “M’gonna make it up to you, ‘kay? When I don’t need it so bad, I’ll make it good.”

You couldn’t respond before he’s got his tip pressed against you, and he’s pushing forward. It’s too late to stop him to ask for the mercy of preparation or caution and the sound you let out is proof. It’s an open-mouthed, guttural gasp as if he knocked the wind out of you. He stops once he can feel you completely envelop him, and he almost collapses on top of you. He felt a sense of relief, a scratch to the itch of the substance, but he could feel the discomfort of it saturating again. Two times worse now that the release was wrapped warmly around him. He was still, though. He stopped as soon as you made a noise of pain, even though his hips twitched. He looked up after telling himself that if you looked the least bit upset when your eyes found him, he’d stop even if it killed him.

But before he could find your pretty eyes, you clenched around him. It was an encouragement. More so torture when he was so sensitive. He moaned and resorted to broken rambles, some of which were not even audible. “Please-‘

You told him to move and he didn’t rock back as you had expected, only forward more, burying himself fully into you. His breath fanned across your ear as he was so close on top of you, the sound of his breathing laced with whines and moans as you satisfied the twinge in his stomach. Then, he set a slow pace. Somewhere, his need to be close intensified, and he looped his arm around your head, ushering your face softly into his shoulder as he pushed his hips into yours, trying not to focus on how quickly the release would come if he didn’t care about hurting you. Eventually, he couldn’t stop himself from speeding up, his other hand holding your hip down. The hand cradling your head held you tighter, more secure as if you’d break. You made small noises that punctuated his thrusts, each of them gripping his conscience as harder than he should be handling you.

“I’m so sorry,” He choked out against your hair. “Feels so fucking good, I’m sorry.”

He was unsure of how much pain he was causing. All he could tell was you were taking away his pain. You just moaned into his shoulder as he sped up against his better judgment.

”I was so irresponsible, I was so stupid, I’m sorry-“ He moaned as he drove himself deeper. It matched the one you breathed out in response as well.

He couldn’t be sure at first, but he thought he felt you press your lips against the fabric stretched across his shoulder. As he felt the vibration from your lips as you strained out another moan, he was certain. The small act being something he was too impatient and hazy to do, but something he wanted to give you made him squeeze his eyes shut, his climax on the horizon. Chasing harder, his words were almost cries, “Thank you.’

”For letting me do this- thank you.” He moved his head so he wasn’t facing away from you and began sucking messy kisses into your neck. They were somewhat controlled, but he needed to communicate his gratitude in a way that wouldn’t betray how unintelligible his thoughts were.

“I’ll be more careful. I’m so sorry, I’m- Thank you. Fuck-“ he’s cut off as you clench around him again. He doesn’t know why, but you do. The sounds of his whines sent you nearer and nearer to your ruin. In your ear, mixed with his moans and utterly desperate. Amplified by his need from the pollen.

His breathing stuttered in time with his hips, and his fingers tightened in your hair. He frantically pulled himself away from you, pulling out. The last rational decision he could make before tipping over the edge. When he came, his whole body tensed, and he let out a breathy whine. He breathed heavily and desperately in your ear, whining out, “Thank you.” Due to the amount of the pollen he’d consumed, he felt satisfied. Relieved. It felt as if he’d been waiting weeks for it. His arm gave out, and he laid himself on top of your chest.

“Thank you,” He pressed a long kiss to your collarbone, lazily letting his head fall down. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve-“

He’s too tired. Presumably crashing hard from the powder. Your hand comes up to his hair, gently running your nails over the shorter hair at the nape of his neck. “Mh- Stiles, look up at me.”

Your focus was his eyes, but it was too dark to see. He sits up at your command and pulls his jeans up quickly, turning to help you. He pushes your hands away, tugging your pants up and buttoning them back, his hands gentle.

He’s crying. You hop down from the jeep. The sun had set, and the temperature quickly dropped. You awkwardly get out, turning back with your phone flashlight to check on him, and he’s silently crying. You gently tilt his head toward you, focused on his health first. Once you’ve made sure his eyes look fine, you hold his head to look at you without the light. “Hey.”

He looks down, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

“But I did, as soon as I-“

“Well, it happened, okay? How do you feel?” Your hands brush tears away from his eyes.

He describes how he feels, coming down from the sort of ‘high.’ His eyes fill with new tears but you lean forward to his confused surprise and kiss him, assuring him with a new, soft tone of voice. “I’m glad it happened.”

#stiles stilinski #dylan obrien #dylan o’brien #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf #fanfic #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #sex pollen #smut #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski x reader #✰lucky writes

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babyflorencee · 1 year ago

Text

My flannel

Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

I awoke to an involuntary shiver coursing through my body. Instinctively, I stretched my arm out in search of my boyfriend, Stiles, but he wasn't there. Emitting a disheartened groan, I shifted my focus towards Stiles' side of the bed, only to discover the window agape, permitting the morning sun to cascade within, its brilliance so intense it could potentially blind those who dared to gaze in its direction. Flipping on my back, I rubbed away the remnants of sleep from my eyes before lifting the sheets away from my nearly exposed form. The moment that the fabric was off my body, the wintry breeze made its presence known, caressing my bare arms and legs. I got out of bed, stumbling over towards the window, almost falling down multiple times, but eventually managing to close and lock it.

I looked around the room, seeing my clothes scattered about. Sighing, I made my way to the open closet, rummaging through Stiles' collection of flannels and jackets until I found the one I wanted to wear. I pulled a multi-colored flannel out of his closet, putting it over my shoulders, and buttoning up all the buttons before descending out of his room, making my way down the stairs and into his kitchen.

Immediately upon entering the room, I saw Stiles sitting at the island table, scrolling through his phone. Sneaking up behind him, I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck, before placing multiple kisses from his jaw to his cheek "Morning," he mumbled, leaning back into my arms.

"Hey Sti," I murmured into his neck.

After a few minutes of staying in that position, I reluctantly pulled away, only to perch myself upon his lap moments later. Settling into a crisscrossed posture, I leaned back into his chest. "Am I just a chair to you?" He teased, a laugh accompanying his joke.

"Yes, and my own personal footrest," I retorted, offering a bratty smile before quickly turning away.

"Ouch, I feel so used." He faux- pouted, before dramatically placing a hand over his heart as if it was wounded.

Glancing back at him, I noticed his gaze fixed upon me. However, he wasn't looking at my face; he was looking at what I was wearing. He bit his lip before speaking up. "Is this mine?" He lightly pinched a portion of the fabric, tugging it lightly.

"No, it's mine," I asserted, looking down at my hands.

"Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure that belongs to me," he said, trying to bite back a laugh.

My eyes widened at the thought of being caught, as my protectiveness over the flannel intensified. "My shirt," I declared, arms crossed defensively as I turned my head to the side, a pout on my face, as I hoped that Stiles wouldn't make me give his flannel back.

Stiles lifted his cup of coffee to his lips, all while looking me dead in the eyes. "What does that say?" He asked, pointing to his name that was written on the the tag.

"Fine, it's yours," I said, sighing in defeat.

"I like how it looks on you," he pressed a light kiss to my temple, quietly laughing at the way my eyes lit up.

"Does that mean I can keep it?" I asked, offering the widest smile I could muster.

"Absolutely not. But you can wear it whenever you want." He said, his hands settling on my thighs, as he rubbed his hands up and down.

"I'll take it!" I said, grabbing his coffee and drinking out of it before making a face of disgust.

"Ew, what did you put in this?" I questioned, frowning as he laughed at me.

"I didn't put anything in it, it's just coffee," he explained, pointing to the dark liquid in the cup.

"This is disgusting," I said, pouting even more as his laughter persisted.

#dylan o'brien #stiles stilinksi imagine #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o’brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien one shot #dylan o’brien smut #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinski fic #stiles stilinski one shot #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski smut #teen wolf imagines #dylan o'brien fanfic #dylan o'brien fanfiction

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bruisedboys · 11 months ago

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please write for tmr!thomas i beg of you

tmr!thomas x reader | established relationship, fluff and hurt/comfort, 1k words (set in the scorch trials!)

you, thomas and your friends find sanctuary from the scorch with the right arm. unfortunately, they don’t provide any sanctuary from nightmares.

“Are you awake?”

Thomas feels you shift under his arm. You’re curled into his side, arm slung over his chest and thigh pressed to his. He hums.

“Yeah, I’m awake,” he murmurs back. “What’s up?”

He feels your hand glide across his stomach and your fingers curl around his hip. It makes him shiver.

“Nothing,” you hum. “Just thinking.”

Thomas huffs. Typical you, keeping yourself awake for no good reason. “Stop thinking and go to sleep then, sweetheart. You need rest.”

You muffle a giggle in his shirt. It warms his chest all the way through. “You’re mean.”

“And you’re keeping me up,” Thomas says back, only half serious. “Go to sleep.”

Eventually you do as he says. These days Thomas always always has waits for you to fall asleep first before letting himself drift off. It makes him feel better about himself. He does everything in his power to make sure you’re safe and healthy and happy, but it’s hard when you’re on your own in a sick world, running from a government organisation that wants you for your blood.

The Scorch has been unforgiving, but you’ve braved through like you always do, never once complaining, always making sure the rest of the group are okay. Thomas thinks someone as lovely as you doesn’t deserve to live in a world like this. It’s half the reason he’s as determined as he is the find somewhere safe.

Well, you’ve found sanctuary for now, at least, with the Right Arm. You and Thomas are sharing a tent with the rest of the group — Minho, Newt, Frypan — none of whom seem to be willing to seperate from each other, despite the spare tents the Right Arm offers. It speaks volumes about where the real safety net is.

Eventually Thomas falls asleep too. He’s not sure how long he sleeps until he’s woken by you. You don’t mean to wake him, he thinks, but he’s a bad sleeper at the best of times, and he’s got a sixth sense for this kind of thing, anyway.

He blinks his eyes open sluggishly. It’s dark, but the campfire still flickers outside the tent, so he can just make out your figure. You’re sitting up straight, stiff as a board. Panic slices through his heart like a cold knife.

“Y/N?” He murmurs. He finds your thigh under the sleeping bag you’re sharing and braces his hand on it to help him sit up. “Baby, are you okay?”

Thomas’ eyes slowly adjust to the light until he realises, with a pang in his chest, that you’re crying. Thankfully, you don’t seem to be in any immediate danger. Everyone else is still fast asleep, and everything’s quiet outside the tent. Still, he doesn’t like the way your shoulders are shaking.

“Sorry,” you gasp. You’re holding your face in two clammy hands, fingers cruel where you scrub at your tears. “Didn’t mean to wake you. I just—“

“Bad dream?” Thomas asks gently. He can guess well enough. He’s had his fair share, and while he’s not an expert on the human mind or anything, he can see that you’re pretty shaken up.

You nod. Tears splash down your front. “Yeah,” you mumble. “Sorry.”

Thomas frowns at you as he brings his hand to your shoulder.

“Stop apologising,” he says, squeezing you gently. His drags his thumb across your collarbone, soothing. He doesnt want to think about what you’d’ve done if he hadn’t woken up. Would you have suffered all by yourself? The thought alone feels like a bullet to his heart. “It’s okay, babe, really. Can I give you a hug?”

You nod viciously. Thomas makes a pitying sound from deep in his chest and wraps you up in a hug, sliding his hand to the nape of your neck to encourage your head over his shoulder. You’re shaking like a leaf, your cheek damp and warm where it presses to his neck.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs to you. It’s all he can say, really. He can’t tell you it wasn’t real, because the chances that you had dreamed about something very real, and equally horrifying, are high. He strokes your hair, feeling a little useless but a lot sorry. “I’ve got you.”

Somebody stirs across the tent. Thomas watches over your shoulder as that somebody sits up.

“Thomas?” It’s Newt. His voice is raspy with sleep but he sounds concerned. “Is everything okay?”

Thomas feels something akin to a rush of gratitude for his empathetic friend. If anything was ever to happen to Thomas, he at least knows for certain Newt would take care of you.

“Yeah, Newt,” he says. “Everything’s fine. We’re good. Just a nightmare, I’ve got it.”

Newt hums and his lanky figure drops back to the tent floor. Meanwhile you’re sniffling over Thomas’ shoulder, your hands screwed into the back of his shirt.

Thomas can’t be sure if Newt’s still awake, but he doesn’t really care if his friend hears him or not. He’s past being embarrassed about how much he cares for you. Thomas draws back and takes your face in his hands.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks you.

“Not really,” you whisper back. Your anguished tone breaks Thomas’ heart clean in two.

“Okay. That’s alright,” Thomas tells you, as kind as he can when he’s up to his ears with worry. He swipes his thumbs over your cheeks, rubbing away your hot tears. He gives you a reassuring smile. “Do you want some water?”

You nod. Thomas reaches behind him to pull his metal flask from a meagre pile of supplies. He unscrews the lid and encourages the bottle into your hands.

“Here, babe,” he says softly. “It’ll help.”

He steadies your shaking hands with his own and helps you have a few gulps of water. When he returns the bottle to it’s place you’ve calmed significantly. Your cheeks are still damp and sticky but your tears have ebbed, at least.

Thomas smiles at you. He’s sure he looks sick with concern but he tries not to let it show, thumbing your cheek with as much tenderness as he can manage. “Let’s lie down, yeah? C’mon, sweetheart.”

He tugs you down with him. You slump onto his chest and push your hand under his shirt. You’re really warm, but it gives him goosebumps anyway.

“You’re safe with me,” he promises. It’s a promise he doesn’t plan on breaking, ever. He rubs your back. Big, rough sweeps that have you going lax in his arms almost instantaneously. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I promise.”

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed, and feel free to send more reqs for thomas!

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asterias-record-shop · 2 years ago

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ok but like maybe stiles stilinski with a spoiled rich reader maybe who has vibes like lydia?¿? maybe w number 21 ?¿? possibly…

—𓆩[warmth]𓆪—

omg, this is literally the longest fic I've ever written for this blog, I really hope you guys enjoy it!

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Stiles Stilinski x Fem! Rich! Vampire! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, maybe slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 6.0K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - No one expected you and Stiles to start dating. Come on, a rich vampire posing as a high school student who could’ve been a real life Cullen? Fuck no. But, it happened, and Stiles fucking loves you - and your fangs - probably more than he should, and he wants to try something.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - foul language and smut || I was forced to watch twilight and this is what happened I love it || kinda sub stiles || mentions of mates || scent glands || marking || mentions of Wattpad & fanfic || i got WAY too into this shit man- || stiles did research || biting kink || blood kink || multiple rounds || oral || face sitting || cum eating || creampie || unprotected sex ||

“So, tell me again how this happened?” Coach was baffled as you sat in his class, your hand in Stiles’ as the topic interrupted your lesson in your economics class. “Like, the dating part. How the heck did you end up with her, Stilinski?!”

You cleared your throat, raising your hand. “I uhm… we’ve been dating for a while, Coach.”

“Yeah, I know! I just didn’t believe it until I saw Stilinski trying to kiss you when he thought I wasn’t looking! Come on kid, you’re that desperate?!” Bobby groaned, pressing his face into his hands. “Why is it always the nice ones who get with the… the Stiles?”

You laughed. “I don’t know who you’ve talked to, Coach, but I am not nice.”

“Yeah, she’s not!” Scott said, twirling his pencil before you glared at him. “Nice. Sh-She’s not nice.”

“Oh, shut up, McCall! You’re just mad because Stiles likes hanging out more with me than you,” you stuck your tongue out at him, letting out a soft humph as you cross your legs under the desk. “And he’s mad I took his boyfriend too.”

“Y/N, we weren’t-”

“Hush darling, Scott and I are talking,” you say, smiling widely at him as you kiss his nose. “Thank you baby.”

“This isn’t happening,” Coach groaned into his hand before the bell rings, a giggle falling from your lips. “Right? This isn’t happening?”

“Oh it’s happening!” You laughed, standing as Stiles cleared his throat.

“Y/N, baby, I have practice today.” He said, Scott coming behind him and sticking his tongue out at you. “I’m sorry.”

You pouted, pretending to think. “Why don’t you just skip? I’ll buy the school new lacrosse gear.”

“I’m right here!” Coach yelled, but quickly got up. “I would be interested in new lacrosse gear though.”

“Yeah, see? Come on, let’s skip.”

“No! We have the quarter-finals this week, he can’t miss. Y/N, he can’t miss,” Scott turned to you, hoping that he could persuade you with those stupid puppy dog eyes. “Come on.”

“Oh I forgot about that,” coach mumbles, glaring at the wall. “Okay, he’s gotta come, but the school would like new lacrosse gear.”

“Here, how about this,” you say, shaking your head as you fix your skirt. “Stiles goes to practice and I’m on the field.”

Coach scoffed. “On the field? Doing what?”

“I don’t know,” you hummed, leaning on the table as you pulled Stiles closer. He followed obediently as you licked your teeth, humming. “Play lacrosse?”

Scott scoffed. “Play lacrosse?”

You tilted your head, crossing your legs. “What, like it’s hard?”

Coach starts to laugh, nodding. “Okay! Okay, you’ll be on the field! Stiles, lend your girlfriend some clothes, we’re getting new lacrosse gear!”

Coach walked out as you giggle, Stiles staring at your smile and the sharpened canines that he fucking loved to stare at.

Scott starts to walk out, pausing to look back at the two of you. “Stiles, you coming?”

“I-In a minute, Scott,” he smiled back at his friend before looking at you who positioned yourself on the desk with crossed legs. “I’ll be there.”

He hummed as he walked out, Stiles letting his hands settle on your hips as you parted your legs so he could slot himself between them. “Hey, my darling.”

You giggled, pushing back his hair. “Hey, honey,” you whisper back, smiling as you nuzzle your nose against his with a soft sigh. “Do you… do you think I’m too mean to Scott?”

“You’re not mean,” he says, laughing. “You and him have like… an ancestral rivalry. He’ll get over it.”

You giggle, pulling him closer for another firm kiss, groaning as your tongue pushed into his mouth, your hand pulling his head back by tugging on his hair. He groaned loudly as your tongue circled around his, humming as your head pounded. You could hear his heart beating incredibly fast, his arteries pulsating, and by hell’s name, you could smell the horniness drifting off of his body, along with the smell of dog because of Scott.

Even newly turned, you could still control yourself with Stiles as of yet. You both had had sex a few times, more than a few actually, but that was before you were actually aware of his… human-ness. You were born a vampire, now in your final years of highschool as you aged regularly and your family was kept alive by blood bags supplied by the numerous hospitals your family owned.

Your instincts never got in the way because of how well fed you were, but this was different. You could feel everything; his heart, his arteries, his veins, fuck even his cock pulsating. Your heightened senses caught everything, groaning as you attempted to pull him closer, another loud groan falling from his lips as you pulled him closer, a choke filling your ears making you pull away, your fangs grazing his bottom lip making him hiss.

A shiver runs down your back as he lets out a soft groan, laughing slightly as he licks his lip. “You alright, Y/N?”

You hummed, not really paying attention to his words as you stared at his lip dripping with that delicious coppery liquid, leaning forward to lick against his lip and a loud groan left his mouth as you sucked on his lip, desperate for that taste. It was different though, his blood tasted sweet, unlike blood bags, animals, and even humans for fucks sake.

“Y-Y/N,” he whispered, groaning. “I-It kind of hurts.”

You gasped as you pulled away, staring at his slightly swollen bottom lip as he smiled down at you, pushing back your hair. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, humming so that you would look at him. “Hey, Y/N, don’t worry about it,” he says, his smile growing as he leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to your lips. “I’ll be a blood bank for you any day.”

You inhale sharply, shaking your head. “Don’t say that. Y-You don’t know how dangerous that is.”

“Why?” He asked, tilting his head. “I know you can control yourself.”

You scoffed, pushing him back. “Did you not see what I just did? If you wouldn’t have said something, I would’ve kept going.”

“But I did say something,” he says, quickly stepping forward and holding your hips again. “Just because I said it hurt-ed, doesn’t mean I didn’t like it.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, shaking your head. “Hurt-ed?”

He hummed, nodding. “Hurted. It’s the past tense.”

You shook your head, laughing. “No it’s not, the past tense is still hurt.”

He rolled his eyes. “Not anymore, it’s hurted now.”

You giggle, shaking your head before sighing. “I’m gonna go write that check, okay? I… I think I’m gonna go home, too.”

His brows ruffled, quickly blocking you from jumping down. “Why?”

“Because it’s not safe for me to be around so many people,” you responded, humming as you quickly went around him. “Come to my house after school? We need to talk.”

He quickly caught your hand, one you could’ve easily avoided, but he shook his head. “Y-You’re not breaking up with me, right?”

You giggled, smiling sadly with a shake of your head. “Just meet me at my house, alright?”

He cleared his throat but nodded, inhaling deeply before slowly pulling you in for a soft kiss. “I love you, Y/N, I love you so much.”

You hummed softly, nodding. “I love you too, my darling.”

He swallowed as you walked out, pulling out your checkbook and writing a number with a lot of zeros on the main line before crossing out the rest, signing and doing the rest of the things before passing by Coach and pressing it to his chest. “Let me know if you need more, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“What? Where are you going?” He yelled out as you waved back at him.

“Have something to do at home! I’ll see you!” You yelled, looking back with a smile. “Good luck, Coach!”

He mumbled something as you walked out, quickly making your way back home and parking outside your secluded mansion that truly could’ve been out of the movie. It didn’t take you long to get up to your room, quickly getting caught by Kirshe, one of the vampire elders that your parents were friends with. “Y/N, are you alright?”

Of course she knew what you were feeling. “O-Oh, I’m fine,” you responded, humming with a slight smile. “Just some… relationship problems.”

She paused, her golden eyes trailing down your body before flashing a bright red. “He doesn’t know he’s your mate, does he?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Not only that, Kirshe.”

She hummed, taking a deep inhale. “And he’s human too, isn’t he?”

You inhaled deeply, nodding. “Taken in by a pack of dogs.”

Kirshe laughed. “Oh, it’s always the best of us, my love. He’s… why are there problems now?”

“I tasted his blood,” you giggled, shaking your head with a scoff. “It’s just like the stories describe it. Addicting, sweet… perfect.”

“Do you want to turn him?” She asked, making you shrug. “Does he want to be turned?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

Back at the school, Stiles was going crazy. “Do you think she’s going to break up with me?”

“She would never,” Scott responded, scoffing. “She’s too in love with you.”

“You’re just mad because you thought she was hot,” Stiles grinned, putting on a shirt that hadn’t been near Scott. He knew how much you hated the smell of wolves. “Right?”

“Oh shut up,” Scott scoffed, shaking his head. “Where did she go anyways?”

“Home.” Stiles said, humming. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I can smell how horny you are.”

Stiles laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I uhm… we were making out earlier. She was… sucking on my lip after it started bleeding.”

Scott froze, quickly looking at him. “What?”

“You’re overreacting so much,” Stiles said, shrugging. “We’ve had sex before.”

“But she’s never sucked your blood, right?”

Stiles could feel his cheeks heat up, about to say something before Scott groaned loudly. “Dude, the smell got stronger! Holy shit, does that turn you on?!”

“Fuck yeah it does!” Stiles said, thankful the two of them were the only ones in the locker room. “Dude, when we like, get heated, she runs her fangs along my neck, holy shit, it’s so hot.”

“And you want her to suck your blood?” Scott paused, staring at him. “You want her to turn you?”

Stiles paused, staring down at his bag before inhaling deeply. Is this what Bella Swan was feeling when she was with Edward Cullen?

“I want to be with her for the rest of my life,” Stiles said, grabbing his bag before smiling at Scott. “If it’s this one or one hundred, I don’t care. I want her, forever.”

Scott inhaled deeply before sighing, shaking his head with a slight smile. “You’re really in love with her, aren’t you?”

Stiles smiled, all sarcasm gone. “Yeah, I am.”

“What about your dad?” Scott asked the inevitable question, inhaling deeply. “I-I’m not trying to like… ruin anything, but if you get turned… what are you going to do to him?”

Stiles smiled, shrugging. “He’ll be my dad. Always. What he wants to do is up to him.”

After that, he waved goodbye and quickly drove to your house, way over the speed limit to get there faster. As soon as he pulled up, he smiled when he saw you on your balcony, staring at him like you knew he was coming - which you probably did.

He quickly got out, waving up at you as you giggled. Normally your family was there to greet him, but they were obviously gone as he walked inside and up to your room.

He doesn’t knock, mainly because there was no point, slowly walking behind you as you stood on your balcony. His arms go to wrap around your waist, leaning onto your body as he pressed soft kisses to your neck, your hand going to hold his jaw as you exhaled deeply. “How was practice?”

“Good,” he mumbled, shrugging. “Missed you. I changed into something that I hope doesn’t smell like Scott.”

You giggle, nodding. “And it doesn’t, thank you.”

“So uhm…” he whispered, humming against your neck as you moved your hands to settle over his. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, you read up on vampires when you met me, right?” You hummed, smiling as he nodded into your neck. “Did you get to the part about mates?”

He paused, his hands tightening around your waist. Did you find your mate? He had read up about them, but never really retained the information because no one ever spoke of them, but obviously for pure blooded vampires like your family, of course they existed.

“I-I… I did,” he whispers, pulling you closer. “There wasn’t much about how it works for bloodborne vampires.”

“Would you like for me to tell you how it works?” You asked, smiling up at him.

“Wh-Why would you tell me if I’m not your mate?” Stiles whispered, slight annoyance in his voice before you started laughing. “What?”

“Stiles, you’re so lucky you’re hot,” you turned in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re my mate.”

He paused, staring down at you blankly. He was your mate? Why?

When you started laughing, he realized he must’ve said it out loud, your hands cupping his face. “Why not? I think it’s fitting, don’t you?”

“Th-That’s not what I meant,” he didn’t mean to stutter, it always happened around you though. He groaned loudly as your fingers dragged down his neck, sparks following your touch as you smiled up at him. “I meant like… how are we mates?”

You paused, pursing your lips. “Kirshe said mates are decided by the gods where in past lives their love ‘changed the fate of the world’,” you mumbled, inhaling deeply as you stroked his hair. “Do you think we could’ve changed the fate of the world, Stiles? In our past lives?”

He inhaled deeply, nodding as he leaned his forehead down against yours. “I know we could’ve,” he whispered back, pressing his lips softly against yours. “Because I love you more than anything else in the world.”

You smiled widely, letting out a loud laugh as he picked you up and turned the both of you around to go back into your bedroom. He slowly laid you in the bed, crawling over your body and laying down next to you to pull you into his chest. You sighed heavily against his chest, stroking his shirt before pulling it down slightly to see his exposed skin. You could hear his heart beating, his valves and ventricles pumping, his lungs inhaling and exhaling, his diaphragm expanding and deflating - fuck, at this point, you hated that he was human at this point.

“Y/N?”

You hummed, looking up at him as your fingers trail over his exposed collarbone. “Yes, my love?”

“I-I was wondering… if you could uhm… turn me. Like, actually turn me… into a vampire like you,” Stiles said as you started to sit up, staring at your face pinched up as you inhaled and exhaled deeply. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“Stiles, why do you want to be a vampire?” You asked, staring at him like he was crazy. “You would watch the people you love die over and over again. You have the choice to grow old and-”

“And what about you?” He whispered, taking your hand in his. Besides his dad and Scott, you were the only person alive right now that he cared for, especially after he was impacted by Void. You stuck with him even after that, how could he let you go now? “You would watch me grow old and wait for me to be born again? Huh?”

“That’s not what I meant, Stiles-”

“I want to be with you,” the brunette filled in, staring at you with those whiskey colored eyes. “For the rest of my life, and I want it to be where you don’t have to watch me die in the end. I want to spend… the rest of my life young with you.”

“But in turning you, I’d watch you die too,” you whispered, inhaling deeply as your eyes watered. You had thought about this before, turning him, but then you thought about what he would go through. You were the first bloodborne vampire ever recorded, because of course the Court took note of every vampire turned, but you were the first one born of two Elders who didn’t think they could get pregnant. You knew what vampires went through when they’re turned, but what would Stiles go through? Turned by a bloodborne who was their mate? “You have to die to become a vampire, Stiles. I would have to kill you.”

“Then kill me.” He sat up, holding your face in his hands as he smiled at you. “I’ve died before, what's another time?”

“Not like this, Stiles,” you whisper, gasping as he wiped the tears from falling down your cheeks, leaning forward to kiss against your skin. “The turning of a mate isn’t something that just happens. It takes days, months, rituals, I have to mark you, we have to be married for fucks sake-!”

You couldn’t finish, gasping as he pressed his lips to yours, pulling you into his lap with a loud groan. “Well then mark me. That’s the start, right?”

You gaped at him, his stupid smile as he stared at you. “You know that means I have to bite you, right?”

“Yeah, it’s like those werewolf stories on Wattpad.”

“You were on Wattpad?”

“It was a dare, moving along. Does it like stay a bite mark or does it like turn into a tattoo?”

“I don’t know, a bloodborne has never marked anyone before,” you say, but your eyes narrow at him. “The hell are you reading where it turns into a tattoo?”

“I don’t know, it turns into their initials,” he shrugged, but paused. “Do I get to mark you too?”

“You want to mark me?” You say, smiling with a slight bounce making him hold back a grunt. “You can mark me right now.”

He smirked, staring at you as you slipped off your shirt to expose your shoulder. “Didn’t you say there’s a process?”

“Not for marking,” you respond, but pause. “But if you mark me, we have to get married soon, because I have to turn you in the span of a few months. Or maybe not because I'm bloodborne, so it could be different.”

“What if I don’t get turned?”

“You turn into a lust crazed monster until I do turn you, but it’s more lethal because since you’re so obsessed with sex, your mind doesn’t process the turn until your body is on fire. Well, it feels like it’s on fire.”

He pursed his lips. “So for the rest of eternity we’re just going to be a rich family hidden in the woods? Like the Cullens?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re just gonna ignore the fact that you’ll turn into a lust crazed monster?”

He grinned. “Well, who am I lusting for? You, right?”

“Well yeah, you have my blood in your veins, so of course you lust after me.”

“I see no problem in that.” He responds, ignoring the fact that his body might not register the turn.

You laughed, shaking your head as you pulled his hands to your back to unclasp your bra. “Well, you want to get this mating thing started, don’t you?” Your fingers move to trail down his chest after he unclasped your bra, your skin cold to the touch until his warm hands flattened against your back. “When you first bite, it’ll taste odd until that zing runs up your back. Then, I’ll tell you when to stop, alright? As soon as you stop, your mind might get kind of hazy and you’ll probably be really horny, alright?”

He laughed. “More horny than I am now? Impossible.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, tugging on the hem of his shirt to pull it off. Immediately, he pulls away and raises his arms for you to take off his shirt, your eyes staring at his mole covered chest. You inhale shakily as you finally meet his eyes, your hands pressed against his warm chest as he pushed his face into your neck, pressing firm kisses to your neck as you pulled him closer before kissing his ear.

“Are you sure you want this, Stiles?” You whisper, holding his face as you pull away. “It doesn’t have to happen now.”

He smiled up at you, shaking his head as he continued to press kisses to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. “For the rest of eternity, remember?”

You smile, inhaling deeply as his tongue flattened against your neck making you lean your head to the side.

“Where do I bite?”

“Anywhere,” you mumbled, your mind hazy as you inhaled the smell that was so uniquely him, whiskey and mountain air combined with pine that made you walk straight toward him when you moved to town. “Anywhere you want.”

He pauses, pulling away to tilt his head up at you. “So it doesn’t have to be on your neck like in the stories?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Of course not. Anywhere you bite, like you said, it turns into initials surrounded by a slight imprint of your bite.”

He pauses, letting his eyes trail over your bare torso as he slowly moves so that you were actually seated in his lap. “Can I do it…” he lets his eyes trail over your skin, humming as he pressed a soft kiss to the space of skin a little lower to where the end of your clavicle was. “Here?”

“Why there?”

“Because,” he whispered, his eyes almost darkening as he let his tongue flatten against your skin, getting it wet with his spit as you groaned, tilting your head back. Your hips automatically roll into his, a loud groan falling from his mouth as he pulls away for a minute. “You gotta show it off, don’t you? Gets you to wear those low cut shirts I fuckin’ love.”

You gasped as his teeth finally sunk into your skin, your body basically on fire as he groaned against your skin. Like you said, it tasted weird at first, coppery and tangy until it flooded his mouth, the smell of the perfume you wore that he learned wasn’t actually perfume shifting into taste instead of the layers of smell you always smelled like. It was sweet and fruity, like strawberries and cherries with sweet cream and that white angel cake, tangy from the berries and sweet from the pastries.

Fuck, it tasted so good. His teeth were deep in your skin, the only cooling part of your body where his teeth sank and drew blood, his hot body making yours feel even hotter.

You could feel your mind get hazy, your eyes rolling back as he tried to suck harder, a loud groan falling from his lips as his hands pawed at your ass, your hips rutting into his almost automatically before you tugged on his hair. “St-Sti, not too much, you could get sick.”

He basically whined, only pulling away by the tug of his hair before licking over the bite mark left on your skin. He panted, watching it as though it would change into the black tattoo-ink like color he was truly expecting it to turn in an instant.

You giggled, quickly catching his jaw before pulling him up to look at you. “It’s not going to happen until I mark you first, my love.”

He stared up at you, eyes a dark chocolate color, lips slightly stained and his tongue tinted a darker red. “Oh.”

You giggle, leaning down to press firm kisses to his skin, never stopping your firm thrusts of your clothed hips against his own, tongue trailing around his skin scattered with moles. “Where do you want it, baby?”

“Where everyone can see,” his hands were shaking from excitement, the taste of your blood sending electricity through his body, tongue flattening against your shoulder and holding back the urge to sink his teeth in again. “Wherever you want it to be, as long as it’s on show.”

“So…” you whisper, letting your tongue trail down the side of his jaw, pushing against the moles under his ear. “Like, here? Or… lower?”

“A-A little lower, please,” he whispered, words breathy as he focused on your hips rolling into his, hard and your hot cunt sliding against his hard cock. He could feel your wetness through your shorts and his jeans, hissing as you leaned forward and kept your hips there, releasing your weight just a bit to keep his cock slotted between your folds. “Fuck, please.”

You hummed, your tongue flattening on the pulse filling your ears until going to the side of his neck. “Here?”

“Mhm,” he merely hummed, nodding into your neck as his hands shakily grabbed your hips. “D-Don’t stop your moving hips, please.”

You giggle, your eyesight basically blurring as you stare at his neck, that one mole catching your eye before you inhaled deeply and felt your canines extend, a comical shing filling the room as you sunk your teeth into his skin. You could barely focus on his cock rubbing against your clothed cunt, one of his hands slipping in between you both to tug your shorts and underwear to the side, pushing his fingers into your leaking cunt and his fingers thrusting into your cunt. You were so tight, so so tight and wet, two of his fingers easily pushing into you and rolling his fingers inside of you.

You were so distracted with the taste of his blood, pushing in and out, in and out, but it was nothing compared to how good he tasted. He tasted like caramel, underlying with nutty butterscotch and whiskey, maybe a slight bit of salt that balanced everything out. You groaned loudly, eyes flying open as he pulled his finger out, the sound of him unbuttoning his pants and unzipping them to pull his cock out of his boxers and push his tip into you making you moan loudly against his skin.

Oh it was almost as though you couldn’t stop, your head pounding as you felt his veins pumping and heart beating, a soft gasp making you pull away, cursing. Was it too much? Did you take too much from him?

“Why did you stop?” He whispered, staring up at you with hazy eyes. “I liked it. I-I loved it. It felt like lightning-”

“Stiles.”

“L-Like lightning was traveling down my spine and filling my veins-”

“Stiles.”

He paused, staring up at you as you looked down at your skin, smiling when you saw the initials MS surrounded by the faded gray bite mark. “Mieczysław. Fuck, I love that name, I love your name.”

“I love you,” he whispers back, smiling as you giggled down at him, his face pressing against your skin before kissing his initials. “I love you so much.”

You smile as he slowly pushes you onto your back, his eyes a dark chocolate brown as he pulls out just for a minute, pulling off his pants after kicking off his shoes and tugging down your shorts and pretty panties. Your eyes rolled back as he flattened his tongue against your wet slit, flicking his tongue against your puffed up clit before sitting back on his feet and pumping his cock. You could see his cock covered in cum, inhaling deeply as you looked over at his discarded boxers, a splatter of cum making you giggle.

“I made you cum in your pants, Mieczysław?”

He groaned as he pushed back into you, staring at the creamy ring he started to leave around your entrance that kept sucking him farther and farther into you. He groaned, his mind fully attentive to your cunt basically swallowing his length, whimpers and squirming finally starting when he left the last few inches. His eyes flickered up to your face, a groan falling from his lips as he saw his initials on your skin, your face pinched in pleasure and eyes rolling back as he thrusted into you sharply to watch that creamy ring settle on his base and your hands flying to his forearms.

“Fuck, fuck Stiles!”

He shook his head, holding your hips with a grunt. “No baby, call me by my real name,” he said, cursing softly as he started to thrust his hips, watching your body bounce with each thrust, your tits moving and his eyes trained on the mark he made. You were right, he was so fucking addicted to the feeling of you around his cock, more lightning traveling up his spine as your nails dug into his forearm, blood making your eyes flash red. “You always say it so fucking nice.”

He watched you groan loudly, moving so his chest pressed against yours and moving his arms to support him. He watched your mouth move to his forearms, your tongue flattening against his skin and licking up all of the blood, his mouth moving to your head to press kisses against your hair, groans falling from his mouth with each thrust before you moved to stare up at him, pulling him down to kiss him, that same coppery tang disappearing and fading into the same whiskey flavor you had been addicted to.

“Mieczysław,” you whispered, gasping as his thrusts got faster, whining as his hand pushed down to circle against your clit torturously before his other hand gripped your thigh, digging his nails so deep into your skin he drew blood. “F-Fuck!”

He groaned as he pushed his fingertips against your skin, covering them with that crimson liquid before pushing them into his mouth and slamming into you one last time to cum inside of you, the gushing of his cum making you cum from the almost inflation like feeling. It didn’t take you long to push him over, though, staring at his already healed forearm. You smiled as you began to roll your hips, desperate as his tip kissed your cervix, pushing deeper and deeper at this new angle as you moaned loudly, holding his chest and staring down at the mark with your own initials on his skin.

It fueled your movements, staring down at the cum smearing along his pelvis, whimpering as you bounced on his length. “Please, please, fuck!”

“You need my help, don’t you?” He teased, lifting his hips to roll into you at the same time you pushed down, your eyes rolling back as he pushed even deeper inside of you - something you truly didn’t think could happen. “Right?”

“Yes! Yes, yes!” You pleaded, gasping as he forced his hips up into you, thrusting over and over again at the same speed you were bouncing on his cock with even more force than you could ever imagine. You were so lost in pleasure, his warm hands holding your hips as you tried to stay sitting up, your body finally registering the fresh human blood in your veins. It had been a while since you had anything other than bagged blood or animal blood, and as a result, your high was gone and inevitably coming down until he slammed his hips up into you, your eyes rolling back as the knot in your stomach snapped and a loud moan of his name - his real name - left your mouth.

He groaned underneath you, his cum gushing out of your cunt as you slowly got off, staring at his still hard cock. You giggle, smiling as you pumped his cock and licked the cum sliding down his shaft, groaning as he bucked his hips up into your mouth. You kept it in your mouth, moaning loudly as you bobbed your head, pumping what you couldn’t fit in your mouth and staring at his face.

You didn’t register his human features, not anymore, his blood pumping and his lungs filling with air or exhaling air, only the fact that the cum on his cock tasted so fucking delicious and your fingers cupping and squeezing his balls which made his hips buck and you pull back to feel his cum flood your mouth. You groaned, sucking on his pretty tip and your hand fisting his cock, swallowing the salty liquid before pulling away.

Your mind was full of lust as you slowly crawled up his body, his hands immediately catching your hips as you hovered over his face. His eyes were hazy with lust as you grinned down at him. "You're such a good boy, honey. I think you deserve a treat."

He groaned loudly as you slowly released your weight, holding the sides of his head as his hands hold your thighs, your hips rolling into his mouth as his tongue pushed into your cunt, basically pulling all of the cum from your pussy, your eyes rolling back as one of his hands pushed between your thighs and straight into your cunt.

His flexing fingers guided the rolls of your hips, moans falling from your lips as you attempted to cover your mouth before a finger pressed to your clit and his teeth grazed your pussy. You whined loudly, your stomach twisting as you attempted to chase that high, his fingers pushing into you to press against that place that made your stomach go tight and your eyes roll back, curses falling from your lips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Mieczysław!”

He hummed against your cunt, the vibrations making you shiver as he slowly lifted you from his face and push you down so you sat on his cock. He slowly pushed into you, a shiver going down your back as he held your face, pulling you up for a firm kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, Mieczysław,” you whisper back, smiling as his lips quirked up into a smile of his own, sighing heavily. “Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah, I feel great,” he smiled, shrugging. “Really horny.”

You laughed, nodding. “We can keep going,” you whisper, smiling as you lay against his warm chest. “Just… let me lay here in your warmth for a minute.”

“Will you miss it?” He whispers, stroking your cheek as he stares down at you. “M-My warmth.”

You inhale deeply, nodding as your hand rubbed against his chest where his heart was, the beating already slowing down. “Yeah, I will,” you shrug though, giggling. “But we’re the first of our kind, my love. I’m hoping you’ll keep it.”

“Then I do too.”

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strnilolo · 1 year ago

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i just wanted to let you guys know that i would let dylan o’brien run me over. that’s it that’s the post

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maddie0101 · 11 months ago

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Summary Stan teaches Mitch a lesson that may have an impact on the two ex-best friends amending their relationship. Meanwhile, Mitch finds out one of Addison’s biggest secrets.

Warnings: cussing, violence, tension.

Word Count: 2,289k

➭ Previous Chapter ➭ Series Masterlist

Fluttering her eyelashes as she blinks in disbelief and shock, Addison stares at the doorway. Her heart races as she tries to process what just happened. Not the way I expected that to go...

Shaking out of her racing thoughts, running wild through her anxious mind, Addy sighs before heading out of the homestead to meet with the rest of the recruits.

As she steps outside, the crisp morning air washes over her face, sending a shiver down her spine. The morning sun casts a golden glow over the lush greenery, illuminating the dew twinkling in the grass. Addy takes a deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves.

I can't believe her. Mitch scoffs as he trails behind Alex, replaying the reunion over and over again. Why the hell would she do that?

"Stop." Alex's voice causes Mitch to halt in his tracks; as he looks around, he realizes they're standing in a small clearing, encircled by towering pine trees.

"Wha—here?" Mitch questions, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Alex nods, confirming Mitch's question. Suddenly, a twig snaps behind them, causing both of them to turn their heads and spot several recruits walking in their direction.

Mitch's eyes darted to the right and hardened upon the sight of the only female approaching the group. However, as Addison strode over with confidence, Mitch's gaze softened slightly, scanning over her features and small frame as he took the time admire her beauty.

Addison had always been stunning, but Mitch was too preoccupied with impressing Katrina to notice what was right in front of him.

Katrina was the type of girl who always had a flock of admirers around her. She was smart, beautiful, and had a magnetic personality that drew people towards her. Mitch had been crushing on her for months, and he couldn't believe his luck when she finally agreed to go out with him.

However, Addison had been his best friend since childhood and had always been supportive of him. Mitch had never considered her in a romantic way, until a few days before Katrina agreed to go out with him. Of course he never got to act upon his feelings because of the events that followed that night, but he always thought she was beautiful.

Even as Mitch gazed at her from afar, he couldn't help but notice Addison's angelic beauty. Her long, luscious curls were meticulously pulled back into a sleek ponytail, accentuating her sharp facial features and high cheekbones. She was dressed in a snug grey tank top that hugged her curves and a pair of form-fitting leggings that complemented her toned legs. Mitch couldn't help but be mesmerized by her stunning blue eyes that seemed to sparkle.

From a distance, Mitch's gaze was fixed on Addison, and he couldn't help but be captivated by her ethereal beauty. Her long, voluminous curls were carefully tied back into a sleek ponytail, framing her sharp facial features and high cheekbones perfectly. She was dressed in a snug grey tank top that clung to her curves in all the right places, showcasing her toned physique, and a pair of form-fitting leggings that highlighted her athletic legs, giving her an alluring appeal.

Mitch couldn't help but be mesmerized by her stunning blue eyes that seemed to sparkle. He found himself lost in them for what felt like hours, unable to tear his gaze away from her captivating beauty. It was as if the rest of the world had faded away and nothing else existed except for the two of them. Mitch felt a warmth spread through his chest as he realized that he was falling for her all over again, but the betrayal twisted something in his heart and made him furious. He couldn't believe that she had lied to him. He had trusted her with his heart. Mitch took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. He knew he needed to talk to her and get some answers, but he didn't want to right now. He was still angry.

Shit. Mitch cussed in his head. He couldn't help but appreciate how gracefully she had aged over the years, becoming even more captivating and mesmerizing since the last time he'd seen her. His heart seemed to flutter in his chest as she met his gaze from afar, awakening an old feeling.

Now, seeing her again after all these years, he couldn't help but wonder what could have been. Would they still have been best friends? Would him and Katrina have ended up together still? Or would it have been Addy on the beach instead of Katrina.

Snapping his dazed orbs over to a figure behind him, Mitch lifted his gaze up to Stan; handing over a knife, Stan laid the cold metal in the recruit's hands.

"Kill me." Stan ordered, watching as Mitch's gaze hardened.

Pressing her lips together as she folded her arms over her chest Addison watched as Mitch suddenly jumped forward, taking a jab at Stan. Quickly the ex-navy seal caught Mitch's hand and twisted his arm, causing Mitch to let out a pained groan as Stan then flipped him over. Landing on the dirt with a groan, Mitch growled as the cold metal of the blade pricked his neck.

"People think you can slice a man's throat like this," Stan spoke, glancing between the recruits circled around. "That's only in the movies."

Shoving the blade further onto Mitch's neck at the base of his throat, Stan whispered, "Right there." Placing his hand on top of the hilt of the knife, Hurley pushed down a bit harder as Mitch wriggled uncomfortably below him, resulting in Addy to hold her breath as Hurley glanced up.

"Do. No noise, no mess." Mitch's eyes fixated on the older man as he slowly lifted himself off. The new recruit's chest heaved with each breath as he tried to catch his breath, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. Sighing before pushing himself up and off of the ground, Mitch let out an exasperated sigh as he caught Addy's mischievous expression, her tongue slowly darting over her lower lip in an attempt to suppress a grin.

Dusting the dirt off his arms as Stan tosses the knife to the dirt below, Mitch looks between the group as Hurley barks, "Victor, you're up."

Unfolding her arms as her gaze meets with her father's, Addy steps closer to the two as Victor bends down to grab the knife.

Not even a split second later, Victor jumps forward and attempts to stab at Mitch. Managing to dodge each attempt, Mitch shoots his hand out and catches Victor's before he can stab him. Using his upper body strength, Mitch hurls the man over his shoulder and slams him onto the ground.

Addy's eyebrows furrow as she watches the two, slightly amused. Didn't expect that...The girl thought to herself as she observed Mitch throw the knife to the side. Needles prick the girl's neck as her cheeks tinted a slight hue of red. Stop it. Addy scolds herself, unsuccessfully ripping her eyes away from Mitch's muscular and toned arms.

"What the fuck, man." Victor shot Mitch a glare as he pushed himself up. "Who grabs a fucking blade?"

Mitch shifted on his other foot as he flickered gaze between Victor and his ex-best friend, watching amused. As Mitch moved his tongue along the lower part of his lip, his deep brown eyes wandered towards the girl standing at a distance. Addison's intense stare caught his attention, making him pause for a moment.

A small smirk tugged on Addy's lips as Victor caught Mitch off-guard, landing a punch to the recruit's jaw. Groaning as he stumbled back, Mitch caught himself before he could hit the dirt. Feeling the anger bubbling inside his chest as Victor smiled and glanced over to Addison, Mitch quickly jumped forward and wrapped his hands around Victor's waist and slammed him to the ground below.

Addy pressed her lips together in amusement as she cocked her head to the side. Okay, that was kinda hot. She admitted to herself.

Climbing on top of Victor, Mitch raised his fist into the air and punched the man. Anger seemed to replace any other emotion he had as he repeatedly smacked Victor's face. Groans and grunts escaped the two as Victor got the upper hand and flipped them over, but unsuccessfully, Mitch squirmed out of his grasp and, once again, started to beat the other recruit repeatedly.

Addison's eyebrows knitted together as she watched the man she once knew be consumed by nothing but anger. Her heart sunk into her stomach as she realized that he must have gone through something traumatizing to end up this way.

If she was being honest with herself, it broke a part of her soul that she wasn't there for him. Maybe if she had been there, then he wouldn't be like this?

Finally managing to throw Mitch off, Victor mirrors his fellow recruit as the two circle each other. "Come on, you fucking pussy. Let's go!" Victor shouted as he grew angrier.

Lifting her gaze to meet Hurley's, Addy nods as she understands her father's silent exchange. The girl sighs to as she steps forward, swinging her leg back.

As if he doesn't already hate me.

Bringing her leg down, Addy uses all her strength and kicks Mitch's leg out from under him; causing Mitch to let out a groan of pain as he falls onto his back. Guilt creeps up in Addy's chest as Victor bends down over Mitch to land a punch to his jaw.

Thank you, Dad. Honestly. Addison scoffs, shaking her head as she rolls her eyes.

"You gotta have eyes in the back of your head."

Grunts and groans escape from the two as they continue fighting. Glancing back up to her father as she keeps her arms crossed over her chest, Addy sighs once more as she reaches behind her and grabs the cold metal resting in her waistband.

Anger boils inside of Mitch's chest as he attempts to push Victor off, but a sudden gunshot right above his head catches him off guard, causing him to lose his footing and slip as he yelps at the loud boom.

"You flinch, you die." Hurley declares as he circles the two fighting on the ground. "Orion is about the mission. It ain't about you."

Grunting as he finally manages to get the upper hand, Mitch pulls Victor into a headlock. Addison shifts onto the other foot as she watches Victor's face turn red, unsuccessfully attempting to escape from Mitch's tight grasp. Attempting to tap out, Victor desperately tries to suck in a breath, but Mitch doesn't let up.

"You go down out there, you're a ghost; you don't exist." Hurley continues his speech, "There's nobody, nobody coming back for you.

Finally easing up and letting the man breathe, Mitch spits the metallic taste out of his mouth as he rises to stand, quickly glancing over to Addy. Really? Mitch shoots her a glare, irritated she took part in the fight.

"You're about to be captured." Stan lowers his voice, reaching behind his back to pull his pistol out. Lifting the gun to his open mouth, Hurley places the barrel inside his mouth, causing Addison to roll her eyes at his dramatics.

The gun clicks as Mitch watches with his eyebrows furrowed. This guy is fucking insane.

"Bye-bye." Stan whispers as he turns to meet Addison's disapproving gaze.

He's such a drama queen. Addy rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Glancing to the side just in time to see Mitch wipe his chin and spit a mouth full of blood out, Addison grimaces as Mitch avoids the eyes burning into his skull.

"Everyone but Quinn, head back to the barracks." Hurley ordered, glancing between the group before they split.

Swallowing the lump in her throat as Mitch walked past, shooting her a glare, Addison waited as footsteps grew distant till she walked up to her father.

Sighing as his gaze softened upon settling his eyes on his daughter, Stan's waited a moment before speaking. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." He whispered softly. "We didn't get to have our talk this morning."

Shaking her head as she couldn't seem to rip her gaze away from the dirt below, Addison scoffs as she fights back the tears burning in her eyes. "He hates me." Her voice cracked as she looked up to the sky, shaking her head.

"He doesn't hate you, Addy." Hurley pressed his lips together, watching his daughter with a heartbroken gaze. "It's my fault, if anything, but I had to keep you safe."

Addison sighed as she finally met her father's gaze, "I know, Dad. I can't thank you enough for being there. I don't know what I would've done. I understand why, but it still hurts knowing that I've destroyed a bit of myself and Mitch."

Mitch's eyebrows furrow as the hard bark of the tree presses into his back. Shock and disbelief etch their way across his dark features as he listens in on Addison and Stan's conversation.

Hurley is her dad? Wtf.

What the hell happened back when we were teenagers? Mitch wondered.

Furrowing his eyebrows as their conversation became inaudible, Mitch hesitantly peered behind the trees covering his position. As his eyes land on the two Hurleys, Mitch's gaze softens as he watches Stan pull his daughter into a hug.

Not only was he the new punching bag and victim, he was now also a target for Stan. Slowly piecing together the puzzle, Mitch starts to understand why Addison is here in the first place.

➭ Next Chapter (tba)

Author’s note:

Hi babes! Finally over my little writing slump. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! My writing is gradually getting better, haha.

Do ya’ll like the red/black gradient text? Or should I just change it to all red. (I don't want anyone having trouble reading it so please let me know if you think I should change it!

Also, if you would like to be tagged lmk! ☻

Tags: @chaoticroaddreamerpasta

#dylan o'brien #mitch rapp #mitch rapp x ofc #mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp fanfiction #mitch rapp au #american assassin #saudade series #dylan o’brien fanfic #dylan o’brien fic #Stan Hurley #Irene Kennedy

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givethemsmut · 4 months ago

Text

The Pack | Chapter One

Characters: Dylan O’Brien, fem!reader

Pairing: Dylan O’Brien, Dylan x You

Every female on the planet wanted a reason to be close to the actors on the hit TV show, Teen Wolf, except me.

I don’t dig wolves. Now some hot vampires? All day.

My dad loves producing so much that he was constantly trying to get me to join him on set in any shape of form. He wanted me to love his vice just as much as him so I would understand abandoning his entire life it. But I didn’t want to act or produce, I wanted to throw myself into college so I could figure it out.

The easiest choice would be the medical field… for so many reasons… but that felt like salt in my very much open wounds.

Twenty-three, living at home with my dad, while trying to forgive him should have been a course I signed up for in college. Instead I got to feel awkward being the light of his life. It wasn’t all bad - he was barely home and I got free rein over my life.

Sleeping in was the best part of not having class. It was just past noon when I dragged myself downstairs at the allure of the coffee pot. I had it set for noon just so I wouldn’t sleep my life away. I didn’t even notice my dad in the corner of the room, at the large dinning room table we never used, busy on his iPad.

“Sleeping in again? Another finger pointing to you coming to work for me.” He didn’t even look up at me when he talked, neck deep in his night shoot edits.

This was a constant battle we waged. “Dad, I have school full time. I don’t have time to come play on set with you.”

He sighed almost defeated for the day on the topic, “only girl in the world who doesn’t want to be on the Teen Wolf set.”

Laughing to myself I didn’t relish being some kind of gatekeeper. Every one of my friends had asked every question you could think of about the show’s star: Tyler Posey but I had no answers. My dad hit the nail on the head.

“That’s because I’m a beautiful, unique snowflake. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky and I’ll surprise you for your birthday next week.”

We both knew I wouldn’t crack so easy. So happens that fate had other plans for me and my boundaries.

The following week my dad left his wallet and house keys at home which honestly wasn’t strange. He was constantly forgetting the essentials. He would buy conditioner without buying shampoo. He would invite you to lunch just to forget his wallet. He would blame being on set when part of me believe he was just that absent minded.

I was casted to the forgot parts of his brain the same way.

He texted me go bring them to set for him which was fine because my lecture was over early and I had zero weekend plans.

Being on the lot reminded me a lot of my mom. We had a bond because of this lot that kept her King and my keeper from us. We would make our own adventures, explore and pretend to be other people all day while he worked tirelessly.

Until she couldn’t pretend anymore. That was when she decided my dad loved his work more than her. That betrayal extended to me when she moved us into another house, quietly divorcing him and securing half of everything just to make sure we survived.

Everyone called her the gold digging failed artist. Everyone called me a spoiled brat.

I snapped out of my thoughts when the guard handed me my ID back through the car window printing the gate to lifted to let me in. With a big inhale I could almost smell her perfume again, earthy and seductive. Pulling through the stages I found him in the same place he always was, back of the lot, taking up the most space.

I breezed in like I, in fact, owned it. Snatching my sunglasses off my face I found my dad coaching the star through the scene with too much passion. “You love her! I need to see that protective side, Ty. That need. That sacrifice. This isn’t some crush but the mate you’ll have forever.”

She needed that side of my dad when she was dying of cancer alone in a big house without her husband.

“Dad. Keys and wallet?” Turning around he took his belongings from my hands and attempted to awkwardly hug me when it failed.

Shifting my eyes I could feel Tyler digging his gaze into me even deeper. He was wondering why he hadn’t seen me until now, if I was some hostage, if I was absent for a reason. I could see the gears shifting behind his eyes.

Beaming my dad’s hand hovered along my spine as he introduced me, “Tyler, this is my daughter. And a hero. Now I can order sushi.”

Tyler laughed and went back to rehearsal with a couple girls whom I can only assume are in the show too. I told my dad, “Well. I’m gonna get going. I’m gonna see if Alex wants to hang. Maybe a frat party is happening.”

My dad pulled over the chair that was already near him, “We’re about to start. You can’t leave yet.”

So that’s how he was going to force me to be here, cool.

I dropped my head as let my bag drop on the floor loudly, purposely, and I watched the cast hit their marks before a clear action was shouted. I couldn’t deny a shirtless Tyler Posey was easy on the eyes for sure. The scene was dark, emotional and ended with a kiss. Even someone who didn’t watch the show, like me, could feel the impact of the episode. After the director yelled cut my dad started speaking again, “I’ll be home late okay? I have a date right after this. That’s why I really needed my wallet and keys.”

I was shocked. I had a million questions. “Wait, excuse me? You’re dating now? How did you meet? Who is she? Where are you going?”

He laughed, “I downloaded a dating app. Okay? I’m going go to Don Antonio’s with her. She’s a nurse. Busy like me so she should understand how it is.”

Being excited for my dad was one thing, finally he wouldn’t be alone yet I couldn’t help but hate him for it. A part of me expected him to pin for my mother his whole life.

I gave him a giant hug before I told him I was taking off but he held me tighter while saying, “You may be over 18 but I sure as shit will ground you, take your phone and car if I found out you went to a frat party with Alex. Have a great night at home with Netflix’s!”

We both laughed, he trusted me and for good reason.

I was still a virgin. Which was rare for a kid in LA let alone an industry parent.

I grabbed my bag and headed for my car before they locked me in silence with another take or scene. On my way out I crashed into a hard body who apologized immediately, “Shit. I’m sorry. I was rushing. I’m late.”

I nodded signaling it was okay but that didn’t stop him from shouting after me when I walked away. “Hey! Are you new? Do I know?”

I stopped walking backwards while answering, “Nah. Just stopping by. Visiting someone.” With that being all I said I opened my door and smiled before getting in.

I knew I wanted to make myself invisible incase my dad came home with his date. It’s not the cool thing to do when you have to introduce your adult age kid after a good meal and before making out.

After I got home from the lot I texted Brody to come over for while. I don’t know how to describe that relationship at all. I’ve known him since we were 5 years old and we were always friends but when we started dating - everything changed.

He was very cute and accessible. All innocent until high school when hormones came into play. We had done everything but go all the way. Lately that wasn’t enough for him…

He came through the door without knocking carrying some beer while I stood at the counter pouring my wine. I felt him push against me, kissing my neck while I pushed the cork in the mouth again.

“Hey beautiful. How was class?”

Brody graduated two years before me and already had a job as a business consultant for a popular firm who advises people on how to be successful, handling money and recruiting for them.

He was stable. He was hot. He was older.

I was feeling frustrated as I took my very full cup of wine and dragged him upstairs behind me by the hand to my bedroom. Every time we were alone with alcohol I always contemplated that I would have the courage to go all the way with him.

Being a virgin still shows anyone how well that went. We got comfortable on my bed fitting like puzzle pieces as I scrolled through Netflix for over 10 minuets searching for the perfect movie.

I felt his hand on my thigh, slightly rubbing as his lips crashed against the side of my face. He felt comfortable so I don’t know why I wouldn’t give in.

I felt his familiar lips against mine and our warm tongues touch. He pulled off his shirt and his husky voice crashed into me, “Take this off baby.”

It was déjà vu all over again. Every time we were alone it was a replay of the same events. There wasn’t any feelings, not the way the movies shaped my expectations.

As he kissed my neck he whispered, “Come on baby. You’re dad isn’t home. Just take off your panties.”

His kisses felt good but not convincing. I whispered his name when I felt his fingers lace inside my panties as he tugged them down my legs.

We fooled around before, he had seen every inch. We kept kissing with our tongues and I felt his body settle between my legs. Reaching for his wallet and he pulled out a condom before his mouth collided with mine again. Pressing my palms again his chest, gently giving myself space, enough to decide on no.

I whispered again, “Brody. I’m not ready. I’m sorry.”

I felt his felt him tense at the rejection, “Why are you being a fucking bitch? How long are we gonna keep playing this game? I’ve seen you naked, I’ve licked your pussy, we’ve showered together.”

His warmth on top of me left as he sat as it came when he pushed his legs off the edge of my bed to put his shoes on. I didn’t even walk him out.

D Y L A N P O V

She smelt like butter and home. She felt safe. She was the most beautiful, sarcastic, tiny firecracker I’ve ever met.

We met on the set of a movie called The First Time back in 2011 and been together ever since. She just got back from Canada filming a TV show Girl Boss for the last 3 months and I couldn’t wait to have her myself.

We both had our own places with our own roommates but we wanted as much time together so she was crashing in my room. And let’s be real, I hadn’t had sex since she left months ago.

She was straddling my legs in her panties and nothing else as I coaxed her out of them. Her hips were rocking over my crotch as she leaned down to kiss me.

Sex was never our problem. We met and practically fell into bed together. Pushing her down onto the bed below me as I pushed myself further between her legs. She felt every inch of my excitement caress her thigh.

I kissed her chest and neck, every exposed inch when my head flicked up at the sound of her phone loudly alerting her she had a text. We both ignored it as I pulled my shirt off.

Another ping. We ignored it again.

I saw her look over almost like she expected a text but couldn’t get to it. Her face went from ecstasy to disappointment. Looking down at her, “We good babe?”

She shook her head, “Yeah, yeah, we’re good. Okay I’m ready, Dylan.”

On my knees, my hands smoothed up her legs until my fingers laced into the straps of her panties. Pulling them down was too easy when I got a glimpse of her wet pussy.

Ping. Ping.

Exhaling loudly, stopping to grab her phone off the night stand I had lost focus enough times to get annoyed. I was going to put it on do not disturb but the texts content was right there on the lock screen.

“Did your flight land? Can’t wait to see you ;)” “He can wait until after I see you first.” “Meet me at my place. I miss that little body.” “Ditch Dylan.”

I felt my heart stop.

Pushing myself to the edge of the bed I contemplated if I was dreaming. Did I fall asleep and have some kind nightmare? Britt, my girlfriend of 6 years was cheating and me. I had proof. I threw her phone across the room in her silence letting it crash against the wall.

She tried to touch my shoulders from behind, on her knees, forcing me to jump up. Pacing I pointed towards my bedroom door. “Get the fuck out. Get out.” She tried to touch me again but I pulled myself away quickly. “Go! Get out of my face!”

All she could say, “Dyl. Baby. Don’t be mad. I can explain. It was a mistake. Just one mistake.”

I was pacing, arms not able to stay by my side and I couldn’t even look at her. “How can you explain that? It’s pretty fucking clear!” She started getting dressed giving up explaining.

As she got dressed she said, “It was one mistake, Dyl. We were apart so long. We were just friends I swear! Please forgive me.” She picked up her phone and jacket to leave. She stood against me best she could at her short height, kissing my chest and still apologizing before exiting my room.

A party couldn’t have came at a better time. I was ready to get wasted. My only hope was that Posey heard everything and would be there as she walked out. His disappointment was damning when he wanted it to be.

#dylan obrien smut #dylan o'brien #Dylan O’Brien x reader #Dylan O’Brien fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf

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freedomfireflies · 2 years ago

Note

Got any Dylan blurbs you wanna share? Maybe... smutty? 👀

“Quick, in here—”

“What…Dylan, what are we—”

“In here. Come on, hurry. Shut the door. Shut the door.”

With a distressed and confused huff, you push the bathroom door shut right as he reaches over your shoulder to flick the lock to the left.

Finally satisfied, he stands back, allowing you enough room to turn around and face him.

Which you do, eyebrow raised. “Baby…what are we doing in here?”

He hums, taking one, deliberate step toward you. Forcing you back against the closed door as he effortlessly cages you in.

“We’re…taking a break,” he says, hand coming up to guide a hair behind your ear as he looks down at you. “From the party.”

“We are, are we?”

A singular nod as he brings himself even closer, his broad chest brushing yours, his lips only inches away. “We are. Is that a problem?”

Of course it’s not a problem. It’s never a problem with him, and he fucking knows it. Which is why you can already see the hint of a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth as he presses his palm to your cheek and guides your face up.

“Hm?” he murmurs when you don’t reply, desperate just to make you say it.

Sadist.

“No,” you answer, with as much nonchalant confidence you can muster. “No, not at all. I think it’s sweet you wanna steal me away to chat.”

His head cocks, tongue running over his teeth as he grins. “Wanna do more than chat, peach.”

“Oh, yeah? What else? Wanna play some card games?”

His fingers move to your jaw, squeezing ever-so-slightly as he dips down and whispers, “No.”

But he’s smirking rather proudly, like he’s almost amused with your teasing, and you feel your heart beat a little faster as you breathe him in.

He hasn’t been more than twenty feet away from you all night.

But you’ve missed him. Missed having him this close to you.

And you especially missed his—

“Then what?” you ask innocently, lashes fluttering as the tip of his button nose brushes against yours.

He moves to the right, lips ghosting your cheek as he taunts you with a taste. “Come on, peach…you really gonna make me say it?”

You find his fancy dress shirt and tug. “You bet your fucking ass I am.”

He hesitates for a moment, maybe contemplating a quippy retort (he always seems to have one) but eventually decides against it.

Instead…he kisses you.

And it’s infinitely better than any remark he might have made because you’ve been needing a taste of this fucking man all goddamn night.

And he knows it. Knows that you haven’t stopped yearning for him since the moment he rolled up the sleeves on his shirt. Knows you haven’t stopped thinking about those hands of his since the moment he ran them through his hair just to mess it up.

Knows you haven’t stopped squirming for him since the moment he sat down on the couch and placed you on his lap.

This isn’t a new game for either of you. The majority of your relationship consists of teasing touches and playful games. You like to see who’s gonna fold first. Who’s gonna cave.

Who’s gonna be put on their knees as they beg.

You have Dylan wrapped around your finger. Can read him like a book, know all of his secret fantasies and cheat codes.

But a majority of the time…you allow him to take the victory for himself. Because seeing him so dominant, so sure of himself, so determined to have you the way he wants…makes your head spin.

You’ve never loved anybody more. Will never love anybody more than you love him, and you’ll happily put your dominance aside just to be his submissive little plaything.

“Fuck,” he murmurs against your bottom lip, hand wrapping around the back of your neck as if trying to claim you. “Been fucking teasing me all night, haven’t you?”

You nod but you don’t have to. He knows you have. Just like you know he’s been teasing you back.

“Grinding against my lap…trying to get yourself off…in front of all our friends,” he continues, now maneuvering under your jaw to trail his tongue up your pulse point. “Think I couldn’t feel you? Think I couldn’t tell…exactly what you were doing?”

You make some sort of incoherent noise that you hope satiates his need for an answer. Because he’s right. You were trying to send him a message, and you’re more than glad to hear he received it.

Loud and clear.

His familiar hand you love to hold travels from your hip to your dress, long fingers tugging the fabric up until he can slip underneath.

You steel yourself against the bathroom door, already filled with relief from the slightest brush of his skin against yours. It’s what you’ve needed all night. All day, all goddamn week.

You’ve always needed him.

Always will.

“Oh, peach,” he coos, voice dripping with faux pity. “You poor fucking thing…didn’t realize it was this bad. Bet it hurts, doesn’t it?”

Your eyes fall shut as your head rolls to the side. You can hardly focus on what he’s saying when you’re so overwhelmed by how he says it.

His lips, and his touch, and his body. Pressing into yours, trapping you here against the wall. Bending you to his intentions so effortlessly. The way he always seems to do.

He drags the pad of his finger through you before dipping in just to feel the way you desperately clench around him.

And when he does…a rather morose sigh falls free as his forehead finds yours and he hisses, “So fucking needy, aren’t you? Need me to fuck you right now, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you nearly whine, arms looping around his neck as you nod quickly. “God, yes…hurry—”

“Thought you liked it slow,” he taunts, dragging his teeth along your collarbone while his other hand falls from your neck to your chest. “Hard…and slow.”

And normally you do, but if the two of you are gone for more than fifteen minutes…then your friends might be able to piece a few things together.

You can feel him tug on the hemline just above your breasts, and you’re quick to reach out and snatch his wrist. “Can’t…can’t rip it, Dyl—”

“Why?” he hums, even if he knows exactly why. “Don’t want them to know what I’ve done to you?”

And you don’t. But you do…but you don’t. “Just…have to be quick. Come on—”

“Don’t wanna be quick with you,” he argues softly, the hand between your thighs now sadistically kneading at your clit. “Wanna take my time…make sure you feel me. Make sure everybody in this goddamn house hears the way you cry for me—”

“Dylan,” you breath, nails scratching down his arm. “Please…please—”

He seems to groan from the way you claw at him, and you know him well enough to know he likes it. “Easy, peach…”

“Need to feel you,” you whisper, hoping to add just enough innocent desperation to your voice that it pushes him over. “So bad, baby…hurts. Fucking hurts not to have you inside me—”

“Goddammit,” he growls, stepping back just to grab you and nearly sling you away from the door and toward the sink.

Your ass meets the porcelain as he surges forward to take your face between his palms. And he kisses you. So hard, your lungs nearly collapse.

Then…he mumbles, “Turn around.”

However, you aren’t even afforded the opportunity to comply before he’s grabbing onto your hips to force you around.

You grasp onto the sink as he pulls your dress up, his fingers curling around the delicate silk of your underwear before yanking it down.

He curses beneath a strained breath when he sees you, unable to resist running his touch back through. “So fucking ready, aren’t you?”

You nod quickly as you meet his eye in the reflection of the mirror.

And it almost kills you to look at him. It always kills you to look at him, but especially now. With his dark hair beautifully brushed askew. His freckled cheeks flushed, and his pink lips slightly swollen from sucking on you.

When you hear the sound of his belt coming undone, you nearly shiver. Ready to feel him again after what feels like an eternity.

Even if the last time was only last night.

“Easy,” he instructs, a gentle purr as the tip of his cock slips through your arousal. “S’a good girl. Hold on for me, okay?”

You nod again as you tighten your grip on the porcelain sink, bracing yourself as he gingerly kicks your feet further apart.

“That’s it,” he breathes before sliding in, and you both choke on a strangled gasp. “Fucking tight for me, aren’t you, peach? Always so ready for me…just like that, good. Good.”

Your eyes nearly roll back as his hand slips around to the front of your throat. He guides your back to his chest as he begins the steady rhythm of pulling out and driving back in.

And it’s euphoria. Fucking divinity to be here in his arms as he fucks you from behind. Exactly the way you like. Exactly the way you deserve.

You’ve always adored his dedication to your pleasure. To the opportunity to make you feel good. It’s a curtesy most guys from your past have neglected to show you.

But Dylan…

“Like that, don’t you, baby?” he asks, lips grazing the outer shell of your ear. “Know you do…know you fucking love when I ruin you like this—”

“Yes,” you whisper, fingers scratching down the hand on your neck. Desperate to touch him. Be a part of the pain. “Please…please—”

“You’re okay,” he murmurs, other arm wrapping around your lower stomach to keep you still. “That’s it…feel you squeezin’ me, peach. S’it feel good? Do you feel full, baby?”

Another fervent nod as you force yourself to find him in the mirror. And you love to look at him. Could look at him for the rest of your life, especially like this. Concentrated and eager.

So fucking in love.

You’ve never doubted he loves you. But you can tell just by the way you touches you. Fucks you. Holds you.

When things weren’t as serious between you, his style was different. Still excellent and devoted, but casual. A quick moment to share before you both went your separate ways.

Now…now he savors you. Savors each second he spends with his cock inside of you. Savor every goddamn moment that he gets to hold you in his arms and call you his.

“How much time left, honey?” he asks as he meets your stare.

You whimper when he does, lashes fluttering as you clench around him just to watch his teeth grit. “Not much…please, Dyl.”

“I know,” he grumbles, pressing a kiss to the side of your throat as he winks at you. “I know, peach. Can’t touch you the way I want, so I need you to help me out, yeah? Go onn—”

You waste no more time, hand finding your clit as you press and rub elegant circles into yourself. Until it almost becomes too much, and you’re forced to see the end much faster than you want.

Because you want to stay here with him forever. Want to keep feeling this rush of adrenaline and pleasure for the rest of your life.

He knows you’re close. Always knows. Can tell by your incoherent whimpers and frenzied gasps for air.

And lucky for him, he’s been edging himself all damn day because of you. Letting his eyes trail your figure while you took a shower. Letting himself watch you as you dressed. Letting himself feel you soaking your underwear as you sat on his lap.

“That’s it…that’s it, come on, baby. Please…come for me, be a good girl,” he groans, arm tightening around your hip. “Go on…shit—”

It happens simultaneously. You’d hoped it would, but you’re pleased to feel him fill you, exactly the way he promised.

And it’s everything. So fucking delicious, and so perfect.

He chases both your highs for at least a minute more, making sure you keep teasing yourself until you have no choice but to stop.

He doesn’t pull out for quite some time, forehead finding your shoulder once more as he breathes you in.

You reach back and tangle your fingers in his hair, reveling in the feel of his heated body against yours.

“My fucking girl,” he whispers after a moment, tilting your head to the side so he can kiss you. “Always, yeah?”

You smile.

“Always.”

~ Other Dylan Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

#dylan #dylan o’brien #dylan o'brien one shot #dylan o'brien fanfic #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien blurb #dylan o'brien request #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien x you #dylan o'brien smut #smut #request #blurb #concept #dylan o'brien fanfiction

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ahgrace6 · 6 months ago

Text

— about my blog. 🤍🩷

who I currently write for:

Extras from my Wattpad fan fictions.

Stiles Stilinski | the witch who cried wolf

Steve Harrington | Our song

who I’m willing to write for:

(These will be fem!reader)

Dylan O’brien and his characters

Stiles Stilinski

Thomas (tmr)

Stuart Twombly

Caleb Holloway

Joel Dawson

Steve Harrington

Ethan Landry

(Feel free to request others and I will say if I can write them.)

— wattpad fic info

The witch who cried wolf | stiles stilinski (unpublished)

Main character: Melody Heks

Love interest: Stiles Stilinski

Supernatural type: Witch

Seasons: 1-6

Our song | Steve Harrington

Season 1 | Our Song (complete)

Season 2 | Every Breath (coming soon!)

Season 3 | Always, Always, Always (unpublished)

Season 4 | Time After Time (unpublished)

Season 5 | Timeless (unpublished)

Main character: Sabrina Henderson

Love interest: Steve Harrington

Seasons: 1-4 (5 when it’s released)

— what to expect

smut, fluff, angst

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strangerstilinski · 2 years ago

Text

SELENOPHILES OF BEACON HILLS | Teen Wolf Rewrite

Stiles Stilinksi/Original Female Character

chapter two - - chapter three - - chapter four

fic summary; after an already traumatic evening involving the unfortunate discovery of a gruesome scene, amber is convinced to hike through the woods with her two best friends in search of the other half of a dead body. but it's not as if she could ever say no.. not when stiles looked at her like that.

chapter word count; 13,019

chapter warnings; smut

chapter notes; stiles, amber, and scott make a discovery at the hale house that leads to an arrest. despite his friends warnings against it, scott is desperate to play in the first game of the season. amber has a dream that only proves to amplify her feelings for her best friend.

masterlist

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

second chance at first line

Amber was lying on her bed staring up at the ceiling in confusion. The deep, rounded indent that resulted from a particularly aggressive evening of Scott and Stiles lobbing a lacrosse ball across her bedroom at one another, was mysteriously gone, the ceiling showing nothing but pristine, decidedly un-dented white paint.

"Hey," Stiles said softly, drawing her attention to where he was laying beside her, propped up on one elbow as he looked down at her, "Can I try something?"

She didn't give a verbal response but she nodded, unable to do much more than that when she was looking into the whiskey depths of his eyes.

Suddenly, he was leaning into her space. He inched closer, moving with a truly infuriating slowness, until his mouth hovered only a few inches from her own and she could feel the tip of his slightly upturned nose as it brushed lightly against hers. His eyes flicked back and forth between her own, the warm weight from his body as he leaned against her making her feel desperate, hungry for more of him, for whatever he was willing to give her.

She knew she'd take it without hesitation.

"Stiles?" She questioned quietly, after a second passed and his face was still hovering a breath away from her own.

But then his lips were on hers.

She reached up to where his shoulders and neck met, immediately wrapping her arms around him to tug him closer. His lips were so soft as they moved against her own and it was everything she thought kissing him would be, and more. Gentle and longing and achingly sweet. She felt as if she couldn't possibly get enough.

The kisses continued, remaining tender and soft for several minutes until, seemingly all of a sudden, he had trailed one of his large hands up her body to cup her breast and he squeezed softly, his fingertips digging into the thick mound of flesh. She gasped into his mouth at the salaciousness of the feeling, arching up from the mattress when he kneaded his hand around her. Stiles used her parted lips as an opportunity to lick into her open mouth, deepening the kiss.

She whined softly when their tongues collided, throwing one of her legs up to wrap around him and pulling, tugging him down against her. He landed between her legs and she made another needy noise into his mouth as his weight settled between her open thighs, warmth blooming in her very core.

Their kisses slowed, easing back into something less wet and desperate but still endlessly hungry. He kissed his way across her jaw, trailing slowly down to her throat. He licked and sucked, seemingly determined to cover every inch of her neck and collarbones with biting kisses from his mouth, all while he continued squeezing and pinching at her breasts to coax soft whimpers from her lips.

She sighed under the feeling of his lips on her skin, tightening her grip around the back of his neck as he worked.

When he began to kiss his way lower, she found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything that wasn't the feeling of his mouth on her body. She kept her hands at the back of his neck, holding onto him tightly as he continued the tender ministrations across her skin. Stiles traveled down further, peppering kisses across everything he passed along the way; her shirt, her chest, her ribs, her stomach-

When he reached her skirt, he slowly trailed his hands down her body as well, dragging them down until his large palms rested over her bare thighs, sliding them up and inching her skirt up her body in a painfully slow motion until her underwear were revealed and he could place a kiss on her there, as well.

She moaned unashamedly, hand moving up the back of his neck to scrape through the short, smooth hair at the back of his head as she tried to urge him closer.

He leaned back a fraction and she could see the smirk playing on his lips from where her head was propped up against the pillows.

"Wanna try this, too." Stiles told her quietly.

Her underwear were tugged down past her knees until he’d given himself enough space to lean forward and then his mouth was on her with nothing separating them. Deep, open-mouthed kisses were pressed against her clit, his tongue flicking out slow against the bud with each one, and she couldn't help but moan again. He continued to lick softly at the small bundle of nerves, never relenting. It was warm and soft and perfect. She could feel herself losing control at the constant stimulation, orgasm building steadily inside of her, winding tight in her cunt.

She looked down to watch the way Stiles' head moved between her thighs as he licked at her, the image alone nearly enough to send her over the edge. His eyes were closed and she desperately wished that they were open so she could look into them while he pleasured her – but just as soon as the thought had occurred, Stiles opened his eyes and looked straight into her own while continuing to roll his tongue around her clit, slow and soft but still somehow firm.

The closer she edged toward her orgasm, the more frequent her moans became, until she was simply whimpering and whining under the constant rhythm of his tongue.

He was working his mouth against her wetly, his soft hair beneath her fingertips, and then he dragged one of his hands from her thigh to push two fingers inside without preamble. He thrust them inside only to immediately hook his fingertips up toward the sensitive spot behind her her pelvis and suddenly she was coming. Hard.

She gasped herself awake, core clenching around nothing. Her breathing was heavy in the dim early morning light that filtered in through her bedroom window, the image of Stiles' face between her thighs burning in her brain.

She stared up at the ceiling while she struggled to catch her breath, her eyes catching on the small, lacrosse ball-sized crater in the drywall.

"Oh my god." She whispered into the empty room.

Amber stood at her locker between classes, eyes cast down the hallway where she could see Stiles' buzzed head in front of his own locker. She blindly switched out her books while she watched the boy of her affections fumble with a notebook that fell from the messy heap she knew lay inside. Said notebook bounced from hand to hand several times before Stiles managed to get a grip on it and shove it back into the chaos.

She watched him slam his locker shut just as she was doing the same and she jumped at the sight of the beautiful strawberry blonde already standing in the space where the tiny metal door had been.

"Jesus, Lydia." Amber breathed, clutching her books to her chest to calm her racing heart, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Two seconds? Why are you so jumpy?"

"I'm not, I just. I had this dream and now-" Amber glanced down to realize she'd grabbed the wrong notebook while she'd been distracted. She sighed and re-opened her locker, "Never mind. What's up?" Amber asked.

"I saw you at the party on Friday. I'm surprised you decided to make an appearance." Lydia said with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, yeah. I, uh, stayed for a bit but I kind of ducked out early."

"I also saw you dancing with a guy," Lydia said in a seemingly innocent tone, pretending to check her fingernail polish, but Amber knew better. There was nothing innocent about the glint shining behind the redhead's eyes. "He seemed decent enough from the back. Tall, at least. Maybe cute if he grows out that awful buzz cut."

From Lydia, the critique was practically gushing.

Amber closed her locker and turned to face her friend, "Lydia, I was dancing with Stiles."

Lydia blinked, her manicured hand still hovering in front of her face, "What does that mean?"

"Stiles? My friend Stiles? I was dancing with him." Amber clarified, feeling exasperated with the conversation.

"Who?" Lydia scrunched up her nose and Amber rolled her eyes.

"Thing One." She sighed, repeating the nickname she remembered the redhead had given Stiles and Scott the week before.

"Oh!" Lydia said in surprise before scowling at the brunette and dropping her hand down to her own hip, "Ugh. You're hooking up with Thing One?"

Lydia had begun to walk away, urging Amber to follow as they headed in the direction of their next class.

"What? No, we're not hooking up. We were just dancing."

Lydia hummed in a way that sounded like she didn't really believe her, "You don't have to lie to me if you're into him. I have eyes, you know." The redhead flipped her hair over her shoulder as they entered the French classroom, "And just because I think you could do way better doesn't mean I wouldn't be a good wing woman if you wanted to double with me and Jackson sometime."

Amber slid into the desk behind Lydia's with a small smile, "Thank you, Lyds. Really." She settled, deciding it didn't feel right to outright lie about her feelings for Stiles, but not willing to verbally admit them yet either.

Stiles checked his phone for messages. Again. Going as far as to restart it in hopes of seeing a new text finally come through. When the phone re-booted, though, there were still no new messages, and he flicked back to his inbox to reread the last text he'd received from Amber at ten-thirty that morning.

going to the library during lunch! don't wait up

He hadn't so much as caught a glimpse of her in the halls all day. She'd gotten a ride to school from her brother and Stiles hadn't even had a chance to talk to her in any of the classes they shared because she'd managed to slip into each and every one just as the final bell was ringing. He was left wondering whether something had happened. Whether she would be staying for their lacrosse practice or if she'd already left the school.

He made his way, already dressed, to the back of the locker room, passing teammates who were in the process of changing into their own padding and getting ready for the start of practice. He was nearly to his locker when he passed Scott standing shirtless in front of his own cubby with a dazed, sad look on his face.

Stopping short at the edge of the lockers he leaned toward his friend, speaking softly, "Did you apologize to Allison?"

"Yeah." Scott said, still gazing off into the distance.

"Is she giving you a second chance, or-"

"Yeah."

Stiles smiled with excitement, "Yeah? All right! So everything's good!" He moved to head in the direction of his own locker when he heard his best friend speak again.

"No."

"No?" He asked, confused.

"Remember.. The hunters-? Her dad's one of them." Scott explained.

"Her dad?"

"-Shot me." Scott finished.

Stiles' voice rose slightly when he spoke, "Allison's father?"

"With a crossbow." Scott clarified, his wide eyes still looking into the distance like he was experiencing the traumatic event all over again.

There was a moment of silence as Stiles processed the information. "Allison's father-"

"Yes! Her father!" Scott interrupted in a shout before taking a few shallow breaths, "Oh my god." Scott continued to breath heavily, chest heaving with each gasp.

"No, Scott." Stiles rushed forward to his friend and slapped him softly on the cheek with the lacrosse glove that covered his hand, "Snap back. Y'okay?" He pulled back to give Scott space again, "Hey, alright- He didn't recognize you, right?"

"No? No, no, no. I don't think so."

"Does she know about him?" Stiles asked quickly, trying to pull out all of the information he could.

Scott made a surprised noise, like the thought hadn't crossed his mind, "I don't know. What if she does?" He finally lifted his frightened gaze to look at his friend standing in front of him, "This is gonna kill me, man." Scott whined.

Coach Finstock's whistle blew loudly from the front of the locker room and Stiles interrupted him, "Okay, just focus on lacrosse. Okay?" Stiles grabbed Scott's padding and gear and shoved it into his friend's arms, "Here, Scott, take this. Take this and focus on lacrosse for now, okay? That's all you gotta do, yeah?"

"Lacrosse.." Scott whispered in a daze.

Stiles slapped his friend's arms to get the blood and adrenaline flowing, "Here. We. Go!" Stiles said before he rushed to get to practice, tripping over a changing bench as he went.

Amber felt immensely guilty for the way she'd avoided both of her best friends all day. She'd spent her lunch period with a granola bar, hiding out in the back of the library. After her dream on Saturday night, it was like her feelings for Stiles had increased tenfold. She couldn't look at him now without desperately wanting to wrap herself around him and kiss him until her lips hurt.

But, she knew she couldn't avoid her friends forever. So when the final bell for the day rang out, she packed up her homework into her backpack, pulled on her jacket, and determinedly headed out toward the bleachers at the lacrosse field.

Now that the week of tryouts was over, there were less students crowded onto the bleachers and she moved to take up residence in a large, empty area near the bottom of the metal seats. Practice hadn't started yet so she pulled out the novel they were annotating in English, along with her notebook, and began jotting things down as she read. She was halfway through filling up her notebook page when players started spilling out onto the field.

Amber waved when she caught sight of Scott and Stiles heading over to drop their bags and water bottles at the bench. Stiles looked surprised to see her for only half a a second before he raised his hand back, nudging Scott until he also returned her wave.

She watched as the boys both grabbed their helmets, pulling them on as they headed out onto the field to do drills. Amber tried to watch the drills as an objective spectator but found that she frequently had to fight the urge to check out Stiles' backside in the silky material of his athletic shorts.

The team started a new drill, one offensive player rushing the goal against two defense and shooting on goal. When it was Scott's turn as offense, he held the ball in the net at the end of his stick, jogging forward slowly and colliding with Jackson who was acting as defense. Jackson blocked Scott with his shoulder and they collided hard, sending Scott to the ground.

Amber winced.

"Hey, McCall!" Coach laughed, walking down the field to where Scott was getting back to his feet. He said something to the boy who was bent over his knees before they both stood upright and Scott headed back to the front of the line. "McCall's gonna do it again! McCall's gonna do it again!"

Amber dropped her books into a heap on the metal bench beside her, pulling her lower lip into her mouth nervously as she focussed her attention on her friend on the field. This time, when Scott moved toward the goal, he ran. When he reached his opponent, he checked Jackson hard and sent him to the ground. Jackson moaned in pain with a hand gripping at his shoulder but Amber's attention was quickly torn away when she saw Scott clutch at his helmet like he had during that first practice.

On her feet in an instant, she watched as Scott fell to his knees in pain.

"Scott?" She called out, already halfway onto the field when Stiles reached their friend's side to check on him. The other players were all huddling around Jackson, and the coach urged them all to give him space just as Amber was kneeling down beside Scott and Stiles. "Scott, are you okay?"

"I can't control it, guys. It's happening-" Scott said, sounding strained.

"Woah, what? Right here?" Stiles asked urgently, "Now?" His eyes met Amber's and they both looked at one another in worry, "Come on. Get up. Come on-" Stiles said, beginning to pull Scott to his feet.

Amber rushed to Scott's side and slid underneath his shoulder, pulling his arm to wrap tight around her. Stiles supported their friend's other side and they dragged him in the direction of the school. When they reached the abandoned boys locker room, the two released Scott in front of one of the changing benches.

"Get away from me!" Scott screamed as soon as he was free, his eyes glowing a bright gold through the bars of his helmet.

Amber scrambled back and bumped into Stiles, who brought his hand up to grasp at her bicep. Stiles pulled her backwards with him as they attempted to put distance between Scott and themselves. Amber's eyes refused to leave Scott as they shuffled back, not until she and Stiles moved to hide behind a row of lockers.

The moment they were out of sight, Scott leapt to the top of the lockers to get higher-ground above them and Amber let out a small scream at the loud crash of him landing atop the metal. When Scott turned to look at them, his eyes were still glowing bright and he had large, sharp fangs protruding from his mouth. He released a growl at his two friends and they both flinched.

Amber tugged at Stiles' arm this time, dragging him away from the row of lockers that Scott was perched on. They ran back in the direction of the locker room door and Scott chased close behind them, following as they weaved through the rows to escape. The two reached the doorway and Amber found herself tripping over her own feet at the threshold, landing on her hands and knees on the ground. She quickly flipped her body over to face her friends as she scrambled backwards, wide eyes going to where Stiles was standing beside her, the wall-mounted fire extinguisher under his arm for support.

Stiles caught her fear-filled eyes just before his own flicked down to the red metal under his arm and he seemed to get an idea. He fumbled to pull the extinguisher from the wall and Amber used that time to get back to her feet as Scott continued to head their way. Stiles' fingers clumsily worked to pull out the pin and he quickly turned to spray the gas in Scott's unsuspecting face. Amber glued herself to Stiles' back as the two backed out of the room, Stiles continuing to spray the white cloud into the doorway.

When they got into the hallway, Amber's shaking hand was fisted tightly onto the back of Stiles' shoulder pads and the two struggled to catch their breath. Stiles still had the fire extinguisher hugged in the cradle of his arms.

"Guys?" They heard Scott whisper after a minute.

Amber could feel her heart beating out of her chest as Stiles cautiously moved back into the doorway of the locker room, dragging her along with the grip she still had on his padding.

"What happened?" Scott asked, panting. He was sitting on one of the wooden benches, a light sheen of sweat covering his face.

Stiles looked back at Amber for a moment before dropping the fire extinguisher to the floor in a loud clang of metal against the tiles. He ripped off his lacrosse gloves and took a hold of Amber's hand in one of his, pulling her into the room while still shielding her body from Scott slightly with his own. "You tried to kill us." He assessed, angry. They moved to stand closer to where Scott was sitting and Stiles squatted down, pulling Amber along with him, "It's like we told you, before. It's the anger. It's your pulse rising-"

"It's a trigger." Amber finished, squeezing Stiles' fingers in her sweaty grip. She reached up her free hand to rest it on the bare skin of Scott's knee.

"But that's lacrosse," Scott said, "It's a pretty violent game, if you hadn't noticed."

"Well," Stiles said, "It's gonna be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field."

"You can't play Saturday." Amber stated simply.

"You're gonna have to get out of the game." Stiles finished.

"But- I'm first line." Scott blinked, wide-eyed.

Stiles let out a breath, "Not anymore."

There was only one class period left until the end of the school day on Friday. She was on her way to her locker during the fifteen-minute afternoon break when Amber spotted Stiles' father entering the school through a side entrance looking like a man on a mission.

"Sheriff Stilinski!" She waved, catching his attention, "Hi."

The older man came to a stop in front of her and leveled her with the same disapproving look he always gave her when she insisted on calling him by his full title.

"You're in uniform, so-" She defended herself with a smile.

"I guess I am," The Sheriff conceded, lifting one of his large hands to give her bicep a pat, "It's good to see you, kiddo, but you should get to class."

"What are you doing at the school, anyway," She hedged, "Did Stiles get into trouble?"

"Not today." The Sheriff joked. "I'm not here as a parent. Just need to have a few words with your Principal as the Sheriff."

Just as he finished speaking, a deputy Amber vaguely recognized walked through the side entrance and came to join him.

"What about? Is it about the investigation? For the body in the woods?" She rambled off.

The Sheriff shook his head in exasperation, "Sometimes I think you and my son might be too alike for your own good. Now, get to class, will you?"

The man gave her a gentle push in the direction she'd initially been heading when she had spotted him. He and the deputy were both focused on something over her shoulder and when she turned fully, she found the Principal approaching, only a few feet away from them.

"Okay, okay-" She laughed when Sheriff Stilinski gave her one final push to leave before the adults converged. She gave him a wave over her shoulder as she finally made her way down the small set of stairs leading to the next hallway.

As she rounded the corner, she was shoved back against the wall and she yelped quietly in surprise before looking up to see the person who'd grabbed her.

"Stiles! What the hell?"

Scott was standing just across the hallway from them at his locker, but his focus was down the hall where Lydia and Allison were in conversation with a guy from the lacrosse team.

Stiles had his forearm pressed into the wall beside Amber’s head, peering around the corner to look at his father, the boy blissfully unaware of the way her heartbeat had picked up in her chest the moment he'd caged her in, or the way the intoxicating smell of him was wafting into her nose with every breath, or the way the heat of his body pressed against her own had her tensing and going pliant all at once.

Stiles returned his attention to where he had her crowded back against the wall, "Why's he here? What did he say?"

She licked her lips and took a breath before responding, "He wouldn't tell me anythi-"

"Scott!" Stiles stage-whispered to get their friend's attention, "Hey, c'mere-"

Scott looked back to his friends and moved forward to join the huddle, standing at Stiles' shoulder, "What?"

"Come here and tell me what they're saying." Stiles demanded, pointing down the hallway to the place where his father, the deputy, and the Principal were all engaged in a quiet conversation.

Scott squinted his eyes in concentration as he focused his enhanced hearing down the hallway. The silence lasted only a moment before Stiles interrupted it.

"Can you hear 'em?"

"Shh!" Scott hushed him, returning his attention to the adults, "There's a curfew because of the body."

"Unbelievable!" Stiles complained, "My dad's out there looking for a rabid animal, while the jerk-off who actually killed the girl is just hangin' out, doin' whatever he wants."

"I still don't think he killed anybody-" Amber started, looking up at where Stiles' face still hovered temptingly close to her own.

"-And besides, you can't exactly tell your dad the truth about Derek." Scott interrupted her before Stiles got the chance.

Stiles got a hard, determined look behind his eyes, "I can do something."

"Like what?" Amber asked quietly, glancing between her two friends like she could read their minds and gain some understanding into their thoughts about Derek.

"Find the other half of the body." Stiles stated before his body was suddenly no longer pressed against hers, already rushing away from his friends and heading down the hallway.

"Are you kidding?" Scott called after him, "Is he kidding?" He repeated, turning back to where Amber was still leaning against the wall.

"Is he ever?" She sighed, patting Scott on the shoulder and walking a few yards down the hall to join where Lydia and a guy from the lacrosse team were talking with Allison, "Hey, guys. Hey, Ben." She greeted them.

"Hey, Amber. We were actually just going." Lydia said with a smile, abruptly pulling the boy by the arm and disappearing down the busy hallway.

"Okay.." Amber managed as they were leaving. She turned her attention to Allison and smiled, but didn't get a chance to speak before Scott joined them.

"So, Lydia's introducing you to everyone?" He said with a barely concealed grimace.

"Yeah! She's being so unbelievably nice to me." Allison smiled at them.

"I wonder why." Scott pouted, receiving an elbow to the gut from Amber and immediately plastering a smile on his face.

"Maybe she gets how bad being the new girl can suck." Allison guessed with a small laugh as her eyes bounced between the two friends.

"Where did you get that?" Scott asked anxiously, pointing to the jacket Allison had draped over her arms in front of her.

Amber tilted her head and studied the dark material of the coat, trying to remember if she'd seen Allison wear it before today, but she wasn't entirely sure.

"My jacket?" Allison asked, "It was in my locker. I assumed Amber put it in there from the party on Friday," She turned to Amber for confirmation and continued slowly, "Lydia has my combination, so-"

"Did you?" Scott interrupted, shooting Amber a sharp look.

"Um, yeah-" she said after a second, "Yeah, I, um. I grabbed it from Derek's car before when he dropped me off, but I totally forgot about it until today." She laughed quietly in an attempt to mask the lie, unable to tell if Scott knew she was bluffing, but almost positive that Allison hadn't caught it.

"Right, Derek!" Allison said at the reminder, "He's your friend?" She asked Scott.

"He's not my friend." Scott scowled and Amber shot him a wide-eyed, questioning look. "How much did you talk to him when he drove you home?" He asked, attention remaining solely on Allison.

"Mmm, not much at all.." Allison said slowly, confusion in her eyes as she looked between Scott and Amber.

"Scott-" Amber started.

"What did you say?" He interrupted.

Allison shot Amber an awkward smile, turning her body to leave, "I- I gotta get to class, I gotta-"

"Allison-" Scott pleaded.

"No.. I really gotta go." Allison said before she jogged away and disappeared down the hall.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Amber demanded once they were alone, "Why would you tell her that Derek's not your friend?"

"Because he's not." Scott glared.

"Well, obviously I know that!" She shoved at his shoulder, "What do you think Allison is thinking now? About getting a ride home with him? Or the fact that I told her it was okay?"

"I- I don't know. I didn't-"

"No shit!" She hissed, "Just- Use your head, Scott." She said in finality before she left him standing alone and turned to chase after Allison. When she finally spotted her, Allison was headed into the girl's restroom. Amber trailed in after her and found her standing at the sinks, fixing her hair with a far-off look in her eyes. "Allison, hey. I just wanted to explain-"

"You don't need to explain, Amber." She said softly, eyes going to the other girl over her shoulder.,"I get it, now."

"You get it?" Amber stopped short, eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah, I mean-" Allison laughed quietly, "It's pretty obvious."

"What," Amber paused, "What's obvious?"

"You, hooking up with Derek." Allison said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, turning around to face her friend.

Amber's eyes went wide, "Me? Hooking-"

"How old is he, exactly?" Allison interrupted.

"Um, like, twenty-one? I'm pretty sure? He was behind my brother in school, so-"

"Okay," Allison sighed, nodding to herself, "I still think he's too old for you but.. It's not as big of a gap as I was imagining, at least. And I mean, he's good-looking, but- I'm confused. I actually thought that you and Stiles-"

"It's complicated." Amber struggled to find a lie that didn't sound like a lie, "Me, Derek, Stiles. It- It's complicated."

"I'm sorry." Allison said suddenly, "If Scott didn't already know- It seems like he didn't. I'm sorry if he figures it out because of me."

"Hey, don't be sorry, Alli." Amber said softly, "I- Derek and I aren't- He's too old for me anyway, right? It wouldn't have lasted, so it's probably better if I end things now, before it can get messy."

"Yeah," Allison said, looking incredibly relieved, "That's probably best." She paused, "So, did you and Derek ever-" She wiggled her eyebrows in suggestion.

"No!" Amber said a little too quickly, "No, um. I wouldn't do that. At least, not with him."

Allison seemed to relax even further before a mischievous smile took over her face, "What about with Stiles?"

Amber felt herself blush, unable to do anything to stop it. "We should probably get to class. Break is almost over." She refused to answer the question, but if the look on Allison's face was anything to go by, her lack of answer had been an answer in itself.

Scott dropped his bicycle to the ground and stormed up to the stoop of the old Hale house angrily, hoping for a confrontation.

"Derek! Derek!" He screamed, throwing his school bag to the ground and sparing a quick glance to the fresh pile of dirt at the side of the house before taking a deep breath. Scott watched angrily as Derek made his way around what was once a large, covered porch, "Stay away from them! Stay away from Amber-" Scott called out before continuing louder, "And stay away from Allison. She doesn't know anything!"

"Yeah?" Derek asked cooly, "And what if Allison does?" He casually leapt the couple of feet from the porch before landing on the ground below, "You think Amber and your little buddy Stiles can just Google 'werewolves' and now you've got all the answers, is that it?" He scoffed, "You don't get it yet, Scott, but I'm looking out for you. Think about what could happen; You're out on the field, the aggression takes over, and you shift in front of everyone-" Derek moved to grab Scott's lacrosse stick from where he'd abandoned his backpack in a heap on the ground. Derek extended his claws and ripped through the netting as he continued, "Your mom, all your friends.. When they see you, everything falls apart."

Derek tossed the lacrosse stick up into the air and Scott rushed to catch it. When Scott had the ruined stick in his hands and looked up again, Derek was gone.

Scott huffed angrily and took a deep breath to calm himself, once again eyeing the pile of newly sowed soil to the side of the house where it appeared something had been freshly buried. He took one more deep breath, trying to use his new, stronger senses as he sniffed.

He smelled blood.

"I would kill for a milkshake right now." Amber murmured quietly to herself, pulling her feet up underneath her to sit cross-crossed. She got herself comfortable in the passenger seat of the Jeep where they were still parked in the school parking lot.

Stiles tossed his backpack over the seats and into the mess in the back. He climbed up into the vehicle, twisting the key in the ignition determinedly a couple of times before the engine gave in, finally turning over and starting.

Amber became distracted in the way she tended to do when Stiles was driving. She watched the soothing and repetitive motions as the boy shifted between gears, his left knee raising slightly each time his foot let up on the clutch, his large hand wrapped around the ball at the end of the gear shift. She hadn't been paying any attention to her surroundings until she realized they'd come to a stop, Stiles shifting the Jeep into park.

"Wha-"

But he was already climbing out of the vehicle, leaning in through the open window as he interrupted her, "D'you want fries or anything or just a milkshake?" He asked.

"Um.." She said dumbly, finally looking out the windshield to see they were parked in front of the diner downtown. Stiles raised his eyebrows expectantly, awaiting her answer. "Just a shake?"

Her answer came out sounding more like a question than anything else, but Stiles nodded with a smile before he darted away and slipped into the restaurant. Amber listened to the little bell jingle over the entrance before the door closed behind him.

She remained, baffled, sitting in the car, watching through the front window as Stiles moseyed up to the register and began talking to the nice waitress behind the counter.

Five minutes later the boy re-emerged, a large styrofoam cup in one hand and the other clutching a tall paper cup. He held a small brown takeout bag between his teeth and when he got to the vehicle, he leaned his head through the open window and allowed the bag to drop into the seat. When he climbed back into the car, he held the styrofoam cup out toward her.

"You got me a milkshake." She stated, taking the cup from his outstretched hand in a daze.

"Is that not what you wanted?" He asked the question slowly, as if waiting for the punchline to a joke he'd been left out of.

"No, it- It's exactly what I wanted," She said quietly, pausing to sip from her straw.

When the sweetness of the vanilla hit her tongue she realized Stiles hadn't even asked her what flavor she wanted, but he'd managed to get her favorite anyway. Her quiet plea for the treat at the school hadn't been an actual request — She hadn't even realized Stiles had heard her. But nonetheless, he'd immediately driven them in the direction of the diner with the best milkshakes in town. Amber's eyes trailed to the greasy takeout bag on the seat between them, and the fluttering in her chest picked up that much more, because she knew — She knew that the curly fries at this particular diner didn't compare to the ones from the place near the Sheriff Station, and yet here they sat.

Overwhelmed with feeling, she took another sip from her drink in an attempt to stall just a little bit longer, "Thank you," She settled on, the words feeling heavy on her tongue.

With a large smile plastered on her face that she hoped hid the warmth on her cheeks, Amber reached toward the paper bag. She fumbled around Stiles' fingers where they were already digging around inside and she stole one of the large, springy fries from inside. Stiles grinned at her before eating a handful of fries of his own.

They began going back and forth, debating the merits within their ever-growing stack of werewolf research. They talked over which articles and forums were garbage versus the ones they thought might contain some truth.

"What did Scott have to do this afternoon, anyway?" Stiles asked eventually, chewing at the straw from his drink.

Amber had gotten slightly distracted as she watched him reposition the straw with his tongue before he bit down on it again. Her brain was fuzzy with thoughts of his mouth but even through the static, she registered that Stiles had said something, "Huh?"

"Scott ran outta the school as soon as the bell rang. He and his bike were gone by the time I met you in the parking lot. Thought he might've said something to you-"

"Oh, no." She blinked, "Last I saw him, he was giving Allison the third degree about Derek. It was a disaster."

Stiles nodded, still gnawing at the plastic between his teeth, "Derek warned him off playing in the game tomorrow."

"So did we, remember?" She took another sip from the bottom of her milkshake, "Scott wasn't exactly receptive."

"Yeah, well. Derek was a little more persuasive, and a lot more threatening." There was a bitterness in his tone at the thought of Derek Hale cornering their friend.

"Okay, so did Scott talk to Finstock about sitting out of the game?"

"Yeah," Stiles said, to which Amber perked up, before he continued, "He wasn't real receptive either. With Jackson's shoulder all fucked up, I think Coach is scrambling."

Amber slumped in her seat, digging her fingernail into the styrofoam of her cup and carving little crescent-shaped indents into the material, "So, what? We just go to the game and hope for the best?"

Stiles shrugged, chewing more aggressively at his straw, "We could go back to my house and dig through the research a little more. Maybe we'll find something that'll help him control it."

"Sounds good to me." Amber felt relief at the thought of doing something useful.

Stiles collected their garbage and ran it to the trash can outside the diner. As soon as he was back in the vehicle, he leaned over the backseat to dig through his backpack, dry swallowing his ADHD medication in preparation.

Just as the two were pulling back onto the road, Stiles' phone buzzed in his pocket. The boy squirmed in his seat and pulled it out, glancing at the screen as he handed it over, "It's Scott."

Amber looked at the ominous message, trying to decipher its meaning.

Found something, u & Amber come over ASAP

"What? What's it say?" Stiles finally asked.

"It just says he 'found something' and wants us to come over asap." She was still frowning at the phone in her hands, "As long as he didn't find another dead body, I'm golden."

"Right, let's go, then." Stiles laughed, taking the next turn to head in the direction of Scott's house.

Stiles grabbed ahold of Amber's wrist and was dragging her up the stairs behind him as they raced toward Scott's bedroom. She struggled to keep her feet underneath her as she fought to match his stride on her shorter legs. When they finally reached the bedroom door, Stiles threw it open roughly and they found Scott sitting on his bed, messing with the laces on his lacrosse stick. Stiles pulled the girl along with him until they stood in front of their friend expectantly.

"What did you find? How did you find it? Where did you find it?" Stiles asked in a rush, he and Amber both breathing heavily, "And yes, I've had a lot of Adderall, so-"

"It doesn't matter, where were you?" Amber interrupted him, focussing her attention on Scott.

"I found something at Derek Hale's." He answered.

"Are you kidding? What?" Stiles asked excitedly.

Scott shrugged, "There's something buried there. I could smell blood."

"No-" Amber whined, drawing out the word and looking at Stiles in despair.

"That's awesome!" Stiles said before catching Amber's eye. He released his grip on her wrist to pat her reassuringly on the head, fingers tangling slightly in her hair, "I mean, that's terrible," Stiles returned his attention to Scott, "Whose blood?"

"I don't know. But when we do, your dad nails Derek for the murder. And then you both help me figure out how to play lacrosse without changing. Because there's no way I'm not playing that game."

Amber couldn't help but roll her eyes, watching as Scott stood and tossed his lacrosse stick to land in the middle of his bed.

Scott was certain that he would recognize the scent of the blood he'd smelled at the Hale house if he were to smell it again, so the three of them piled into the Jeep and raced to the hospital where the bottom half of the body was being stored.

They split up once they were inside so that Scott could make his way to the morgue, while Stiles and Amber waited for him in the main admissions and E.R. At the sight of Lydia sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting area, Stiles watched as Amber immediately abandoned him to go sit beside her redheaded friend.

While Lydia had never been outright mean to Stiles, she tended to just ignore his existence entirely. He wasn't sure that it made him feel much better than if she actually did bully him verbally in the way Jackson tended to do.

Amber and Lydia had always been close, even as far back as kindergarten, but when the two had been split into separate classes in the third grade, they'd drifted slowly apart until they only shared a casual friendship. Coincidentally, that had been the same year Amber was assigned a desk directly between Stiles and Scott, and the three had been best friends ever since.

Stiles was eternally grateful for the sequence of events that had woven her so deeply into his life.

It appeared that Lydia was on a call, but the moment she finished her conversation, Stiles watched her turn to Amber with a smile and the two began talking. He slumped into a seat around the corner and turned so he could scowl as he watched the soft smiles Amber gave to the girl who had never even given him the time of day.

"Hey, Amber," Stiles muttered to himself, "Sure wish you would stop letting Lydia infect you with her insidious mind warp that makes you forget that I exist." He watched Amber throw her head back in laughter at something Lydia said and he scrunched his nose in distaste, picking up a large pamphlet on the table next to him and pretending to read it as he continued to grumble under his breath, "Y'know, because I think we have this kind of connection. Unspoken, of course. And maybe, if you weren't constantly being brainwashed by a beautiful, strawberry blonde she-devil, I might even stand a chance."

He turned forward in his seat to continue sulking, angrily gripping the paper in his hands, eyes unfocused as he glared unseeingly at the page in front of him.

"I know you like research, but if you had any questions, y'know you could've just asked." Amber's voice came from above him with a laugh a few minutes later.

He flinched aggressively. He hadn't even noticed her get up, but when he looked around the room, Lydia was gone.

Amber moved to sit down in the chair beside him, her chest pressing against his arm as she peered at the pamphlet he was holding. It wasn't until he flipped to the cover that he realized what it was actually for — It was a large booklet detailing the menstrual cycle.

"Ha." He choked out, fighting and losing to the urge to look down at the place where her breasts were pushed together against his arm.

The pamphlet was suddenly ripped from his grasp and he jumped again, his attention pulled from the place where he had, regretfully, been ogling his friend. "Holy god!" Stiles breathed, heart beating loudly in his chest.

Scott stood above them and tossed the booklet back onto the table, "The scent was the same."

"You're sure?" Amber asked, leaning away from Stiles slightly and sitting back into her own chair.

"Yes." Scott assured them.

Amber stood and pulled Stiles up with her so the three could continue the conversation closely, heads ducked together.

"So he did bury the other half on his property?" Stiles questioned, lifting a hand to squeeze Amber's shoulder. Although he was looking at Scott, he could practically feel her frowning at the turn of events.

"Now we have proof he killed the girl." Scott nodded.

"I say we use it." Stiles said, already headed down the hallway to leave the hospital.

"What?" He heard Amber squeak from behind him. She grabbed his shoulder as she rushed to catch up with him.

"How?" Scott asked.

"Tell me something first," Stiles sighed, turning to face Scott and reaching out to rest a hand across Amber's shoulder blades, "Are you doing this because you want to stop Derek, or because you want to play in the game and he said you couldn't?"

"There are bite marks on the legs, guys. Bite marks."

"Then we're gonna need a shovel." Stiles said.

When Amber sighed underneath his hand, Stiles felt it. He rubbed her back as the three turned and headed back toward the parking lot.

They were going to take Derek Hale down, and then he'd never get anywhere near Amber again.

"Can I just ask, how do we know Derek buried the body?" Amber whispered, squinting in the dark toward the burned ruins of the Hale house as they waited for Derek to emerge, And not someone framing him for-"

"Because, he's the only other werewolf we know who's running around and-" Stiles started quietly, turning to glare at her in the dark cab of the Jeep.

"Shh!" Scott scolded them.

Just as quickly as Scott had hushed them, Derek emerged from the house and strutted over to the Camaro that was parked out front. Stiles waited a moment after the car was out of sight and down the driveway before he pulled his own vehicle up closer to the house and parked.

The three stepped out into the cold night air and Amber shivered. She hadn't even worn a jacket to school, due to the lack of lacrosse practice the day before the big game, she'd known this morning that she wouldn't need to sit outside for an hour that afternoon, but now, protected from the chill by only a thin long sleeved v-neck and jeans, she was overtaken with goosebumps. "Fuck, it's cold."

The boys were pulling shovels from the back of the vehicle while she rubbed at her arms. Scott tossed her the only flashlight, and Stiles climbed back into the car and leaned over to dig around in the backseat. When he re-emerged, he held a dark flannel shirt and tossed it to her before slamming the door shut and claiming one of the two shovels for himself.

Amber thanked him and pulled his shirt on in a rush, sighing gratefully when it immediately cut down on the cold air seeping into her skin. She clicked on the flashlight as they followed Scott around the side of the house.

"Wait, something's different." Scott said as they reached the far side.

"Different, how?" Amber asked, her warm breath puffing out in a cloud.

"I don't know," Scott said, looking around them. He eyed the soot-covered siding of the house for a minute before shaking himself, "Let's just get this over with."

Amber held the flashlight steady as her friends dug a large crater in the fresh-looking soil at the treeline. She chewed at her lip anxiously the deeper they dug, eyeing the dark forest around them nervously like she was just waiting for something to jump out.

"This is taking way too long." Scott complained after roughly twenty minutes of digging.

"Just keep going." Stiles demanded, wiping sweat from his forehead with his shirtsleeve and huffing as he threw another large scoop of dirt out of the hole and into a pile off to the side.

"Keep going, but faster." Amber said, eyes flicking back to the still-dark driveway before returning to where her friends were standing knee-deep in the ground.

"What if he comes back?" Scott asked, also breathing heavily from the manual labor.

"I have a plan for that." Stiles said, shoveling another heap of dirt from the ground at his feet.

"Which is?" Scott asked.

"You run one way. Me and Amber run the other. Whichever he catches first, too bad."

Amber snorted a laugh, her hand shaking the flashlight for a moment before she steadied it to shine on her friends again.

"I hate that plan." Scott complained, shoving his shovel back into the earth with a loud thunk.

"Ooh, stop, stop, stop-" Stiles pushed Scott back before they both dropped to squat down and began to brush the dirt around with their hands.

Amber took one slow step forward to get a better look at what they'd uncovered, but it was just a burlap sack tied shut with a long length of rope.

"Hurry up-" Scott urged, watching as Stiles' fingers worked at the rope.

"I'm trying-" Stiles huffed, "Did he have to tie the thing in, like, nine hundred knots?"

"I'll do it." Scott reached over and began to undo the knots quickly.

Amber's stomach turned painfully with nerves the more they worked at the rope. When it finally fell away, the boys pulled open the bag and all three of them screamed loudly at what they saw inside.

"What the hell is that!" Stiles yelled.

It was a dead wolf. Its fur was dark and soft-looking, but its eyes were murky and glazed over with death.

"It's.. A wolf." Amber stated.

"Yeah, we can see that," Stiles said sarcastically, turning to Scott, "I thought you said you smelled blood — As in, human blood."

"I told you guys something was different!"

"Okay, so Derek buried an actual wolf in his yard," Amber said, still breathing heavily with adrenaline as she waved the flashlight around, "That's not exactly a crime, is it?"

"This doesn't make sense." Stiles said in confusion.

"We gotta get out of here." Scott announced, both boys climbing from the hole.

"Yeah, okay, help me cover this up." Stiles began to brush a small pile of dirt into the hole with his hands.

Amber sighed in relief, returning the flashlight to shine in the crater they'd dug so that the boys could see as they filled the hole back up. She watched Stiles pause, looking past where she was standing on the opposite side of the grave, his eyes catching on something behind her.

"Oh, god. What?" She asked, turning around to shine the light behind her but not finding any immediate danger.

"What's wrong?" Scott asked.

"You see that flower?" Stiles questioned, pointing to a shin-high flower a few inches behind where Amber stood.

"What about it?" She asked, shining the light on it and prodding it gently with the tip of her shoe.

"I think it's wolfsbane." Stiles said quietly, standing up and brushing his hands off on his jeans. He walked around to stand beside Amber and knelt down to look at it closer.

"What's that?" Scott asked with furrowed brows.

Stiled sighed, "Haven't you ever seen The Wolf Man?"

"No."

"Lon Chaney Jr.? Claude Rains? The original, classic werewolf movie?"

"No! What?"

"Not even Dracula?" Amber followed up, "C'mon you have to have seen Dracula. He literally holds up the flower at the end of the movie and-"

"You guys have watched way more of these movies than me, okay?" Scott interrupted.

"You are so unprepared for this." Stiles sighed in disappointment.

Amber watched as Stiles returned his attention to the flower at her feet and tilted his head cutely before pulling the plant up from the ground to reveal a rope tied around the base. He continued to tug gently at the rope and followed its trail as it swirled around the hole they'd dug several times before tapering off where it wrapped around the burlap sack.

Scott suddenly stood from where he was still kneeling at the base of the crater they'd dug, "Guys-"

Amber and Stiles both came to stand beside him and turned their attention back to the grave. Where the dead wolf had laid before, there was now a wide-eyed corpse of a young woman.

"Oh my god!" Amber gasped, flinching back and bumping into Stiles. He reached up to steady her, hands on her shoulders as her back pressed tighter against his chest, the wolfsbane flower tickling at her cheek where it was still clutched between his thumb and forefinger but she hardly noticed it as her mind repeated the same realization over and over.

The top half of the woman from the preserve was buried at the burnt shell of the Hale house.

The next morning, Stiles and Scott forced Amber out of bed at the crack of dawn to drag her back out to the burned house in the preserve.

Hoping to be better prepared for the weather, she had pulled on a dark hoodie underneath the same flannel she'd worn home the night before. It wasn't as cold in the light of day, but she didn't dare risk it.

Apparently, Stiles had already called into the station, reported the body, and implicated Derek over the phone to the deputy who had answered. He and Scott were all too eager to see the older boy arrested.

"Okay, I was up, like, all night and I have a theory-" Amber said quickly as they all tumbled back into of the Jeep, "And I really think we at least mention it to your dad-"

"If this 'theory' is that Derek Hale is somehow innocent in any way-" Stiles interrupted her.

"It's just-"

"No! No, oh my god. No." Stiles stammered, looking between Amber and Scott with wild eyes, "I don't know what has got you so hell-bent on Derek being innocent! I don't know if it's that he's, like, tall and sculpted, and looks like a Greek God-"

"Sounds like you're more hung up on his looks than I am." She muttered petulantly under her breath. Scott snorted a quiet laugh in amusement but Stiles barreled on as if she hadn't spoken.

"-Or if it's just a feeling you're convinced he's giving off, but whatever it is, you're wrong, okay?"

"If you let me just-"

"No."

"It- My gut is telling me-"

Stiles interrupted her again, "Amber, listen to me. You smart, beautiful, ridiculous pain in the ass-" He cut himself off, turning to face her fully in the still-parked vehicle and bringing his face close to hers, "Your instincts suck, okay? They suck. Because they're telling you Derek is a good guy when he is actually a- a dangerous murderer. Who murdered someone. And then buried the body in his own yard."

"I feel like you just complimented, but also insulted me." Amber questioned with a frown after his rant was over.

"That's because he did." Scott chimed in.

She sighed, scrunching her face up in frustration, watching Stiles shake his head before he started the Jeep and backed out of her driveway. He draped his arm over her knee to reach the gear lever and she nudged it occasionally as she mindlessly picked at the long sleeves of the flannel she wore.

"What about Derek's sister though?" Amber looked between the two boys, "Derek said she came into town before he did.. I mean, what if they're both werewolves? What if she's the one killing people and my instincts are right and Derek hasn't done anything wrong?"

"Or," Stiles deadpanned, "Maybe Derek's a liar. And he lied to you about his sister and he murdered someone before burying their body outside of his childhood home. Y'know, because he's a dangerous lying murderer."

Amber sighed in frustration but didn't respond.

When they pulled up to the Hale house, Stiles parked at the edge of the driveway near the treeline, hidden behind the police cruisers already at the scene. There were deputies laying crime scene tape around the area where the body was buried to the side of the house.

The three teens tumbled out of their vehicle and watched as Sheriff Stilinski and a deputy split off to enter the burnt shell of a house to search for Derek.

Amber huddled close to Scott where he was leaning back against the headlights of the Jeep. They watched for movement through the shadowy windows while Stiles did the same from the passenger side door, closest to the house.

When a deputy finally emerged with Derek's hands cuffed behind his back, Amber shrunk back from the glare he aimed at the trio. The officers guided Derek into the back of a police vehicle and Amber watched in distress as Stiles rushed forward to climb into the passenger seat as soon as the coast was clear.

She made a move to follow him but Scott grabbed ahold of the flannel she was wearing, pulling her back to stand beside him. She pouted with another longing glance to where Stiles was sitting inside the car, already conversing with Derek, and Scott shook his head at her.

Only a minute or two passed before Amber saw Sheriff Stilinski rounding the side of the house and heading for the cruiser. She abandoned Scott and made a beeline to where he was pulling Stiles out of the car with a tight grip on his arm.

"There. Stand." The Sheriff released his son, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm just trying to help." Stiles insisted, taking a small step back to stand next to Amber.

"Okay, well, how 'bout you help me understand exactly how you guys came across this?" His dad demanded, looking between the two teens.

"We were looking for Scott's inhaler." Stiles explained, waving his hand around as he spoke. Amber shook her head at him with wide eyes but Stiles kept his focus on his father.

"Which he dropped when?" The Sheriff followed up, eyebrows raised.

"The other night." Stiles stated simply.

"-The other night when you were out here looking for the first half of the body."

"Yes." Stiles sighed, sounding exasperated.

Amber wanted to reach over and cover his mouth with her hands to keep him from continuing to dig himself deeper. It was like she was watching a trainwreck in slow motion.

"The night you told me you were alone and that Scott and Amber were both at home." The Sheriff said slowly.

"Yes! ..No! Oh, crap-" Stiles said with a grimace, finally realizing his mistake. Amber wrapped a hand around his forearm and gave it a squeeze.

"So you lied to me." The Sheriff's words continued to come out as statements rather than questions. The look of disappointment on his face had Amber withering under his gaze, but Stiles remained strong.

"That depends on how you define lying."

"Well," His father started, "I define it as not telling the truth. How do you define it?"

Stiles hesitated for only a moment, "Reclining your body.. In a horizontal position?"

"Get the hell out of here." The Sheriff demanded.

"Absolutely-"

"Yes, sir."

Stiles and Amber spoke at the same time, scrambling to get back to where the Jeep was parked. Scott was still standing at the front and moved to open the passenger side door when he saw them heading back, "What the hell were you doing?"

Amber sighed as she passed through the open door, sliding into the center seat so that Scott could climb in behind her.

"I was trying to get information out of him!" Stiles explained, climbing into the driver's seat and starting the engine.

"Okay, well, did you?" Scott asked.

"Not really," Stiles began the drive down the long, winding dirt path that led to the house, making his way back out to the main trail for the preserve, "But listen, I have a book in the back. One of you grab it and see if it says anything about the rope and the wolfsbane we found last night."

Scott's arms were longer, so he reached behind Amber's back and dug around until he found the Stiles' backpack. He moved it into the front seat and settled it onto the floor between his legs, digging around inside until he found the book Stiles was referring to. Amber pulled one side of it onto her lap as Scott flipped it open and they began to skim the pages. They flipped past several sections on completely unrelated material and flicked more slowly through the ones on werewolf lore.

"Can't find anything about wolfsbane being used for burial-" Scott said in frustration, pushing the book fully into Amber's lap.

"Just keep looking," Stiles insisted, glancing at the girl beside him to ensure she was doing just that, "Maybe it's a ritual or something. Like, maybe they bury you as a wolf. Or maybe it's a special skill y'know? Like, something you have to learn."

"The ritual thing makes sense but I'm not seeing anything in here about it.." Amber said, finger tracing along the words on the page to keep her place in the bumpy car.

"I'll put lessening that on my to-do list." Scott scoffed at Stiles, "Right underneath figuring out how the hell I'm playing this game tonight."

Amber's head suddenly snapped up, eyes wild, "I think I might've printed something off about born-werewolves that could shift fully into a wolf-"

"Or maybe it's different for girl werewolves-" Stiles pondered.

"Okay! Stop it!" Scott shouted at his friends.

"Stop what?" Stiles asked for the both of them, looking at Scott in confusion.

"Both of you just stop saying 'werewolves'! Stop enjoying this so much!" Scott was breathing heavily and Amber slammed the book closed and shoved it between her back and the seat.

"Hey, what's going on?" She asked softly, putting a hand on Scott's arm.

"Are you okay?" Stiles asked, his eyes flicking to the pair beside him before going back to the road.

"No!" Scott said, shoving Amber's hand off of his arm and clenching his jaw, "No, I'm not. I'm so far from being okay."

Amber's face pinched and she awkwardly put her hand back in her lap, feeling like she'd been scolded.

"Y'know, you're gonna have to accept this, Scott." Stiles said.

"I can't-" Scott panted, breaths appearing to come harder.

"Well you're gonna have to-"

"-No! I can't breathe!" Scott yelled, gasping for air.

"I- Are you having an asthma attack?" Amber worried, turning toward him in her seat.

He continued to take in choppy breaths, reaching toward the backpack on the floor. He unzipped the pocket further and opened it to reveal the rope and wolfsbane from the night before.

"Oh, shit-" Amber swore, quickly pulling the backpack away from Scott and into her lap. She jostled Stiles in her haste and the Jeep swerved along the road.

"Pull over!" Scott yelled.

"Why!" Stiles shouted back, righting the steering wheel, "What's happening?"

"You kept it?!" Amber scolded loudly, re-zipping the bag to cut off the floral scent.

"What was I supposed to do with it!" Stiles defended.

"Stop the car!" Scott growled, no longer sounding like he was having an asthma attack but instead beginning to sound as if he were shifting. When Amber looked back at him, his eyes were glowing bright gold.

"Okay!" Stiles stopped sharply to park in the middle of the dirt road. The doors on either side of the Jeep were thrown open and Stiles ripped the backpack from Amber's lap and ran from the vehicle.

She watched Stiles run a short distance before simply launching the backpack as far as he could throw it.

"Okay, we're good. You can-" Stiles turned back to the Jeep and cut himself off, "Scott?"

Amber turned to see that Scott wasn't standing to the side of the vehicle like she'd thought. He was gone.

"Scott?" She called out once before looking back to Stiles with worry.

He began to climb into the car but she immediately reached out to stop him.

"What?" He questioned.

"Stiles, you need the backpack with all of your schoolwork in it. Just take out the rope and wolfsbane."

"Oh, yeah. That- uh, that would've been a good idea." He sighed, looking back toward where he'd thrown the bag before sulking over to follow her advice. When he returned to the vehicle, he threw the bag into the backseat once again and settled behind the wheel. "What the hell do we do now?"

"I- we gotta look for him, right?"

They began to drive the winding road through the preserve again, eyeing the treeline for their friend. When they got out to the main road without spotting him, Stiles pulled out his phone and called into the Sheriff Station on speakerphone.

"Stiles, you know you can't call the dispatch line when I'm on duty-" The deputy said upon answering, likely recognizing his number calling in.

"I just need to know if you've gotten any odd calls-" Stiles said loudly into the receiver.

"Odd how?" The deputy sighed.

Stiles looked at Amber with wide eyes, unsure what to say, and she shrugged. I don't know, She mouthed silently.

"Uh. Like, an odd person or- Or a dog-like individual roaming the streets-"

"I'm hanging up on you now." The deputy responded before the line went dead.

"No! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wai-"

"She's gone, Stiles." Amber sighed, "'A dog-like individual', really?"

"Well, I don't know! What was I supposed to say? 'Any tips about a werewolf?'"

"I don't think it would've gone any worse if you had!"

Later that evening, Jason dropped his sister off at the high school for the game on his way into the fire station. "Hey," He called out when she went to climb out of the truck, "Wish Scott good luck for me. Stiles too-" He rushed to add as an afterthought.

Amber laughed, "I will! Love you."

She waited for her brother's response before slamming the door shut with a wave. Once he pulled away, she gnawed on her lower lip in thought for a moment. She knew she should head out to the field to get a spot on the bleachers, but she needed to check on Scott before the game started.

Decision made, she entered the school and crept into the boys locker room, looking around cautiously. She sighed in relief when she saw that everyone was already changed into their uniforms, moving more confidently as she wound her way through the rows looking for Scott or Stiles.

She stumbled upon Stiles at his locker first and she couldn't help her grin at seeing him in his game-day uniform. "Lookin' good." She said softly over his shoulder, laughing when the boy jumped and spun around to face her.

"Jesus," He gasped, "What are you doing in here?" Stiles looked around behind her like the thought they were about to get in trouble.

"I wanted to check on Scott." She defended.

"Yeah, alright, me too-" Stiles grabbed his duffle bag from his locker before slamming it closed, wrapping an arm around her back and guiding her toward Scott.

When they reached him, Scott was sitting on the changing bench. Their friend looked up and sighed when he spotted the two of them, "You guys gonna convince me not to play?"

Amber sighed and shook her head, knowing there was nothing Stiles or herself could say at this point to change his mind.

"I just hope you know what you're doing." Stiles said.

"If I don't play, I lose first line. And Allison." Scott grabbed his arm pads and began pulling them on.

"You honestly think she's that shallow?" Amber questioned.

"Yeah, Allison's not going anywhere-" Stiles assured him, "And it's one game.. That you really don't need to play."

"I want to play!" Scott whined, "I wanna be on the team. I wanna go out with Allison. I want a semi-freaking normal life. D'you get that?"

"Of course we do." Amber moved to sit on the bench beside Scott.

"We get it," Stiles said, dropping his duffle from his shoulder and straddling the bench to sandwich Amber between him and Scott, "Just try not to worry too much while you're out there, okay? Or get too angry-"

Amber nodded in agreement.

"I got it." Scott sighed.

"-Or stressed."

"I got it." Scott said again.

"Don't think about Allison being in the stands. Or that her father's trying to kill you-"

Amber turned her head sharply to glare at Stiles but he kept going, unfazed.

"-Or that Derek's trying to kill you. Or the girl he killed. Or that you might kill someone.. If a hunter doesn't kill you first-" He was cut off by Amber's hand reaching up to cover his mouth. Stiles made a questioning noise, eyes flicking to Scott who had tensed up, wide-eyed over the course of his rambling. Stiles' eyebrows rose in realization and he frowned sheepishly, pulling Amber's hand gently from his mouth. "I'm sorry. I'll stop."

Amber rose from the bench and rested a hand softly on the side of each boy's neck, unable to reach their shoulders through all of the padding. "Good luck." She smiled at both of them nervously, taking a deep breath and patting their cheeks before turning and leaving the locker room to head out to the field.

The crowd for the first game of the season was huge. The stands were packed and Amber hesitated, looking for a free spot. She caught sight of Scott's mom waving her over and quickly climbed up to sit beside the woman.

"Thank god," Amber laughed as she plopped down onto the cold metal bench, "I wasted too much time talking to the boys that when I got out here I thought I might have to stand on the sidelines the whole game."

"Big crowd, huh?" Ms. McCall smiled, "Is Scott nervous?"

"Uh, yeah. He definitely is," Amber said, "But he'll be fine. He's got this." Amber said the words more to herself, praying that speaking them into existence would somehow make them true.

The players were spilling out onto the field and Amber watched Scott head onto the pitch while Stiles settled into the player's bench. Stiles' dad spotted his son and bent to talk to him for a moment before looking up to search for an open space to sit in the same way that Amber had a few minutes before.

She raised a hand and waved to the man, scooting closer to Ms. McCall and pointing to the spot next to her. He nodded and climbed through the crowd to reach them, sighing gratefully when he sat down beside the girl.

"Hey, Sher-" She cut herself off at the man's eyebrow raise, "Mr. Stilinski." She settled with a smile.

"Hi, kiddo." He smiled, softly, leaning past her to exchange pleasantries with Scott's mom for a moment before turning back to face the pitch. "You think Stiles'll get onto the field?"

"Oh, um, Maybe." Amber smiled.

She hoped desperately that Stiles would get a chance to play this season. He'd warmed the bench during every game their a Freshman year, and she knew that his dad wanted to see him play as badly as she did. But more than that, though Stiles would never say anything, she knew how much her friend hated that his dad came to watch every single game on the off chance he might get thrown in for a few minutes.

"Is your brother down at the fire station for the night?" Sheriff Stilinski asked her.

"Yeah, he's just getting in, so. Probably won't be off until, maybe, midnight tomorrow?" She thought back to the hand-written schedule that was hanging on their refrigerator, "I think he's doing a thirty."

The Sheriff let out a breath, "And I thought I worked long hours." He watched Amber shrug before continuing, "Come home with Stiles and I, we'll order in pizza or something and hunker down for the night."

"Oh," Amber started, not used to receiving an invitation from Stiles' dad instead of her friend, himself, even after all these years. She smiled, "Yeah, I- That sounds great. Thank you."

The field filled up with both team's players and the game started. Amber kept her eyes glued to Scott as they began playing, and it didn't take long for her to notice that the ball was being thrown to every Beacon Hills player except for him. Scott raced around the field, open for a pass, but his teammates avoided him like the plague the entire game.

In the final quarter, a player from the opposing team dropped the ball and Scott made a run for it. Amber narrowed her eyes as she watched Jackson slam into him and send him to the ground.

"Hey!" Amber called out.

Ms. McCall was covering her own mouth with her hands in surprise.

Jackson quickly scooped up the ball himself and ran down the field, sending it past the other team's goalie to score a point.

The crowd cheered as the scoreboard changed to display the new score, 3 - 5, but Amber still frowned. She turned her head at the sound of Lydia screaming for her boyfriend and spotted her and Allison holding up a homemade sign.

We Luv U Jackson

Amber grimaced and she noticed Stiles peering behind him and doing the same when he spotted the girls. Stiles and Amber both returned their attention to Scott, but he'd clearly seen the sign as well. Amber dropped a hand between her knees and crossed her cold fingers, praying that Scott could hold it together.

The players reset after the goal, and they spread out to stand in their positions on the field again. Amber kept her eyes on the little number 11 on Scott's jersey, swallowing hard when she saw a player from the other team slowly back away from him like he was afraid.

"Oh, god." She whispered.

There was only a minute and a half left of the game, surely Scott could keep himself in check for that long.. She hoped.

The whistle blew and a Beacon Hills player won the initial scuffle with the other team to get possession of the ball. Scott raced down the field and when he was blocked by a wall of players, he launched himself inhumanly high into the air, jumping over their bodies to catch the ball in his net. Amber watched wide-eyed as her friend continued downfield, weaving through players expertly and sending the ball into the goal the moment he was close enough for a shot.

Amber and Ms. McCall both cheered loudly, turning to smile at one another in excitement for only a moment while the players reset again.

"McCall! Pass to McCall!" She heard Coach Finstock screaming at the team over the cheers.

There was one minute left and the scoreboard changed again, 4 - 5.

She kept her fingers crossed as she watched the other team get the ball straight away. The player turned to face Scott and froze for a moment before tossing the ball to his opponent. Amber huffed in surprise at the ball now cradled in Scott's net. He raced down the field once more and threw the ball straight into the goalie's waiting stick, but it tore through the netting and went into the goal behind him.

Coach Finstock and Stiles both raced to the sidelines, where the referee was unsure whether to call the shot a goal or not.

"The ball is in the net!" Coach yelled, grabbing the ref's whistle and blowing it himself to signal the goal.

Forty seconds remaining and the score was tied. 5 - 5

Amber's heart was beating violently in her chest with adrenaline, eyes wide as she watched the final seconds of the game. Scott got possession of the ball almost immediately and he raced toward the other team's goal before pausing, looking at the players surrounding him with slow, ominous-looking turns of his head.

"Oh, no." Amber whispered, glancing at the scoreboard to see there were only ten seconds left, "Oh god. Scott, don't lose control now-"

With two seconds left on the clock, Scott shook his head and sent the ball flying into the back of the goal.

Everyone in the crowd jumped to their feet, cheering loudly and already beginning to disperse from the bleachers. Amber climbed her way down with Stiles' dad, his hand wrapped around her bicep to catch her in case she took a wrong step.

Just as they stepped onto the grass, the Sheriff's cell phone began to ring and he stepped away from the chaos to take the call as Amber rushed over to where Stiles was standing on the sidelines to throw her arms around his neck.

"That was crazy! He actually did it!" She laughed.

Stiles reached up to wrap his arms around her back, "Thought he was gonna lose control for a minute there-"

"Oh my god, at the end! I was shaking." She finally loosened her grip and pulled back to look at her friend's smiling face. Her eyes moved from his and traced slowly over the tiny constellation of moles along his cheek. Her gaze dropped to his mouth for only a second before she released him completely and took a small step back.

Stiles looked utterly stunned and Amber took a deep breath before turning away from him to search the field for Scott. Her eyes raked over the many faces, but she didn't see their friend.

"Where did Scott go?"

"Huh?" Stiles asked, shaking his head and reaching up to rub at the back of his neck.

"I don't see Scott anywhere. D'you think he's okay?"

"I don't-" Stiles paused when he saw his dad approaching them with a frown on his face, "Dad, what's wrong?"

The man sighed as he stopped to stand in front of them, "I gotta get down to the station. We're releasing Derek Hale-"

"What!" Stiles squeaked, "No! Why?

"Medical examiner finished the autopsy on the top half of the body and determined the cause of death was the bite marks.. An animal attack."

"But-" Stiles paused, looking at Amber for the first time since his dad had come over. She shrugged and took his hand as he realized he couldn't say anything to deter his father.

"This case has been a mess. But, at least now we know who the victim was, and the cause of death-"

"What?" Amber interrupted when she processed his words.

"We do? Who was it?" Stiles questioned.

The Sheriff sighed again, tucking his phone into his pocket, "She's been ID'd as Laura Hale, Derek's older sister."

"Oh my god." Amber's hand went up to cover her mouth.

"The poor kid," The Sheriff shook his head, "Listen, I really gotta get down to the station. I'm sorry I won't be home for dinner."

"That's alright, don't worry about it, dad." Stiles assured him, squeezing Amber's hand in his own as his mind continued to race.

"You kids still order a pizza or something, all right? I don't like the thought of either of you going home to an empty house on a Saturday night." Sheriff Stilinski gave his son a pat on the shoulder before turning and taking off in the direction of the parking lot.

"Oh my god." Amber repeated quietly.

"We gotta tell Scott." Stiles announced, pulling her along by her hand and jogging toward the school.

The lights in the boys locker room were still out when they got there and Stiles continued to drag her through dark the aisles as they neared the back of the room. He stopped short and pulled her back to hide behind a locker when they neared the showers.

She went to question him but Stiles brought his free hand up to cover her mouth, shaking his head. He jerked his head in the direction of the showers and she peered around him to find Allison and Scott standing in the shower cubicle, kissing. Amber moved back behind the locker to stand beside Stiles, and it was only then that she realized they were still holding hands.

"I- I gotta get back to my dad." They heard Allison say quietly. There was a loud smack of one final kiss before Allison's footsteps began to approach where they were lurking.

"Hi, Stiles," Allison laughed, rounding the corner and spotting Amber beside him. Her eyes flicked down in the dark to where they were joined with a smile, "Hi, Amber."

"Hey." They both responded quietly.

The moment Allison was out of the locker room, Stiles released Amber's hand and the two stepped out from behind the lockers to stand in front of Scott.

"I kissed her." Scott said, a dopey grin on his face.

"We saw." Amber told him.

"She kissed me." Scott's smile continued to grow.

"Yeah, we saw that too." Stiles laughed at the look on their friend's face, "It's pretty good, huh?"

"I-I-I don't know how, but I controlled it. I pulled it back." Scott told them, "Maybe I can do this. Maybe it's not that bad."

Amber and Stiles looked at each other for a moment and grimaced.

"Yeah.." Stiles huffed out a pained laugh, pulling Amber a step back in the direction of the exit, "We'll talk later then."

"What?" Scott asked nervously, taking a step forward to match their step back. His eyes bounced between them as he waited for an answer.

"The medical examiner. Um, they looked at the other half of the body we found." Amber said quietly.

"And-?" Scott urged.

"Well, we'll keep it simple," Stiles explained, "Medical examiner determines killer of girl to be animal, not human. Derek's human, not animal. Derek not killer. Derek let out of jail."

"Are you kidding?" Scott asked his friends with wide eyes.

"No," Stiles answered him, "And here's an even bigger kick in the ass. My dad ID'd the dead girl — both halves. Her name was Laura Hale."

"Hale?" Scott repeated, voice raising.

"Yeah," Amber whispered, "Derek's sister."

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