#exchange student stiles

[fuckyeahfanfictions]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Cora Hale/Lydia Martin Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Cora Hale, Laura Hale, Lydia Martin Additional Tags: Polish Stiles Stilinski, Foreign Exchange Student Stiles Stilinski, Foreign Exchange Program, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Underage Drinking, Alive Hale Family, Pining, Painfully Oblivious!Derek Hale, Stiles lives with the Hales Summary:

"Derek had had his doubts when Cora first suggested their family play host to a foreign exchange student from Poland, but it wasn’t until the kid arrived that Derek really began to resent the entire program.

Sure, Stiles Stilinski cleans up after himself – never not a perfect gentleman around the house – and gets straight A’s while still somehow managing to make friends insanely fast. But he's also cocky and sarcastic; quick witted in a way that can tangle Derek into a neat, flustered little bow with only a few choice quips.

The worst part is that English isn’t even Stiles’ native tongue, and he still manages to be better with it than Derek. Bested at his own damn language."

[perseephoneee]

(For Ficmas 2023) Isaac Lahey and cookie decorating

cookie decorating (isaac lahey x f!reader) {ficmas 2023}

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ happy day 12 of ficmas!

warnings: allusions to sex

a/n: its christmas eve! this one is short but i wanted to keep it sweet and to the point. thank you guys so much for joining me in this journey to write 12 fics in 24 days (honestly exhausting, but i'm happy I did it). reminder that my requests are open, and to join my taglist if you want to read more of my work in the future. i have a couple requested fics that i need to work on, but i'm hoping to start having a regular posting schedule for you guys in the new year. once again, ily and thank you guys for supporting me always <3

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2023

Before your last school vice principal was killed by one of the many werewolf problems that arose in Beacon Hills, the high school didn’t have as many “school spirit” events. There were the typical ones, but truthfully, not a lot. But then, the high school needed a new vice principal, and suddenly, Beacon Hills High School was experiencing an influx of school-wide events. Some of them were incredibly stupid, annoying, and trivial, but occasionally there would be one that would excite all the students. This was one of those times. 

“I am happy to announce that for the holiday season, we will be doing a series of competitions centered around winter,” Mr. Bean, the new vice principal, announced at a school assembly one morning. You almost skipped it but were caught by Coach Finstock in the hall before you could sneak out. Your boyfriend, Isaac, was asleep next to you. “They will be non-denominational, of course. But what is the prize, you ask? After careful consideration, it was decided that the team that gets the most wins out of the twelve contests will get automatic As for the winter break homework– that’s right, a free pass!”

That got the students awake, chatter filling the auditorium as students daydreamed about not having to do any work over the break. You also perked up. Even though you were a good student, you never got an actual vacation with how things went in your life, and your brain almost couldn’t process all the reading and napping you’d get done if you didn’t have any homework. 

“Isaac,” you hissed, slapping your boyfriend in the arm. He groaned as you awoke him. “We are entering this.” He looked at you in confusion as you explained the competition to him. That seemed to wake him up. 

“I’m not doing too hot in Chemistry right now, so that’d be great,” he mumbled, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. 

“You told me you were okay!” 

“I lied,” he shrugged, and you slapped him in the arm again. 

“I offered to help you with your homework.”

“I wanted to make out with you instead.” That made you roll your eyes, but you didn’t get the chance to chastise your boyfriend as you finished listening to the rules of the competition. 

The following days went by as pretty much every student in the school participated. Everyone got points for the challenges, and the team with the most points got automatic As. There would be two runner-ups who got Bs. You questioned whether any of this was legal, but your lust for winning overtook the rational part of you. Your competitive nature shined as you and Isaac quickly rose to the top of the leaderboards. Between your book smarts and Isaac’s athletic prowess, you took the contests by storm. There was trivia, a sledding race, a snowman competition, and a relay race. Ethan and Aiden were The only team close to beating you two, which just spurred on Isaac more. Even Scott and Stiles, who had fallen behind since they spent more time arguing like a married couple than cooperating, were rooting for you and Isaac just to see Ethan and Aiden go down. 

The final contest wasn’t anything crazy but required precision and focus. Cookie Decorating. Of course. 

You hunkered down at your house, baking cookies and looking at YouTube tutorials for the best way to decorate cookies. You had some cookies look like ornaments, others like reindeer, and a couple as snowflakes. Unfortunately, Isaac had grown distracted about half an hour into your baking adventure. Which meant he had turned to distracting you. 

“Can we take a break?” he sighed, sitting at your counter as he watched you add frosting to piping bags. 

“We need to turn these in by 4 pm today, so we need to hurry,” you responded, tying off the plastic piping at the top and looking at your sketched designs before adding anything to your cookies. Isaac slid off the stool, standing beside you as he watched you draw careful shapes. You weren’t paying attention to him, so you missed the devilish smirk on his face as an idea came to him. He pushed your hair to one side, standing behind you as he wrapped his arms around your middle. You hummed, still focused on decorating, when he pressed kisses along your neck and shoulder. You became hyperaware of his lips on your skin as he licked a line from your artery to your jaw, hot, open-mouthed kisses following soon after. You bit your lip to stop a gasp from leaving your mouth. “Isaac,” you hissed in warning when he bit down, coaxing a sigh from your lips. 

“Y/N,” he hummed, his hands dipping under your shirt and running up and down your sides. His hands were cold and made you shiver wherever he touched you. 

“You’re being a nuisance,” you whispered, hand shaking as you kept trying to decorate. 

“Take a break,” he smiled against your skin, continuing his ministrations. You tried to calm yourself, but after making another mistake in decorating, you growled in frustration and turned around in his arms. 

“You’re obnoxious,” you muttered, back pressed against the counter as Isaac had you cornered. He just smiled, leaning down to kiss you as he had you caged against the counter. You let him kiss you, hands running up his arms, tangling in his hair. You let him take you to your bedroom, make love to you, and effectively distract you. And when he was done being needy, you went back to finish decorating the cookies, wearing just his shirt and underwear, even letting him steal one when he thought you weren’t looking. 

You ended up winning the competition, much to the chagrin of Ethan and Aiden, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as you spent winter break in peace with Isaac. 

[rubylize]

Summary: you being popular and making Stiles flustered.

Pairing: Stiles x reader

Word Count: 1,568

Warnings: none

Not edited

“You look so pretty.” Y/n heard Stiles say, they sat next to each other in Chemistry class, she tried to ignore him so they wouldn’t get in trouble for talking. “Babeee.” He whispered, trying to get her attention. “Shh.” she softly replied, it didn’t necessarily annoy her, well sometimes, but she knows he does it out of love.

The hallway was crowded with a bunch of students, “Babe.” She heard Stiles ask, “Yeah?” She replied. “Can you know, we.. um.” Y/n stopped in her tracks to look at her boyfriend, “Yes?” she asked softly, Stiles looked down to his feet, “Can I hold your hand?” He asked shyly. Y/n grabbed his hand intertwining them, she brought their hands up and kissed the back of his palm. The spot felt tingly for Stiles, he enjoyed it, it was like electricity went through him.

They walked towards Y/n’s locker, their hands broke apart while she put in her locker combo and exchanged books. “Y/nnn.” Bekah dragged her name, Y/n looked at Bekah giving her attention. “There’s a group date going on, you in?” Y/n contemplated it but wanted more information “When is this group date?” She asked while slowly closing her locker.

“Friday. Are you in?” Bekah asked once again. “I’ll think about it.” Y/n announced, Y/n saw Bekah walking away, she then turned her attention to Stiles again. “Why didn’t you say yes?” Stiles asked her confusingly. “It's a group date, meaning everyone is bringing a partner, which I have of course, but I have to let them know too and see if they're free or if they even want to go.” Stiles fiddled with his fingers, “To be clear I’m the partner right?”

Y/n smiled at him “Of course you are.” She said while her arms laid on his shoulder, she played with the back of his hair. “Do you wanna go?” She asked, his face cringed. “Good me neither.” Y/n’s hands traced down Stiles’ arm, she then placed his arms on her waist, while her arms went back to his shoulders. “You sure you want my hands there?” Y/n nodded, “I want your hands there.” She clarified.

“Do you want a kiss?” She asked Stiles softly, Stiles didn’t trust his words so he nodded. “Then kiss me Stilinski.” She smiled at him, when he leaned down and kissed her on the lips. When they came apart, she kissed him on the cheek. “Do you need anything from your locker?” She asked. “Yes.” He breathed out, looking at her eyes, being mesmerized by them. “Lead the way.” She said, while her hand gestured down the hall.

Stiles grabbed her hand and they went towards his locker. When they made it to his locker, Y/n patiently waited for him to get his things. “You look cute.” Stiles stopped what he was doing to look at her. “What?” He asked, his brian trying to register her compliment. “You look cute.” She repeated, “T-thanks.” He stuttered out. She smiled at him, “Stiles!” She heard her boyfriend being called.

Scott, Stiles’ best friend came into view. “Yeah?” Scott smiled at Y/n, “Do you guys wanna hangout with us on Friday, at my house?” He asked. “I'll let you know.” Scott gave Y/n another smile before walking away. “Do you wanna go?” Stiles asked her popular girlfriend.

“Sure, but only if you want to.” She told him, “Why didn’t you wanna go with your friends?” He asked.

“I don’t know if you haven’t noticed but my friends are dicks. I actually like your friends.” She admitted. Stiles chuckled, “Sorry.” Y/n frowned, “Don’t be sorry cause you thought something was funny.” She told him, Stiles nodded his head in understanding.

After school they went to his house to study and help each other with homework. Stiles for the most part focused on his homework but sometimes got distracted by Y/n, he couldn’t help but stare at his girlfriend.

Y/n yawned, gaining attention from Stiles, “You can nap if you want.” He suggested. Y/n looked at him, “Only if you nap with me.” She told him. Stiles nervously put his books to the side, slightly dropping his book. Y/n put her books away as well, she was already on the bed, she laid down waiting for Stiles to join her.

Once he got on the bed next to her, Y/n wrapped her hand around his waist and her head on his chest. “Wanna know something I noticed about you?” Stiles hummed in response, she felt the vibration from his chest next to her ear.

“I notice that I make you nervous.” She waited for a while to complete her thought, she heard his heartbeat speed up. “But you know just cause I’m popular doesn’t mean I’m gonna tell you what to do. You’re my boyfriend and I know you have feelings, you have an opinion. Sure my friends may not accept you but I don’t care. You don’t have to be nervous.”

Stiles felt loved, he felt relief run through him, he felt safe, he felt warmth around his heart, he happily kissed her forehead. Y/n lifted herself up to look at him, “Wanna know something?” She asked, looking at him. “About me?” He asked sarcastically, she laughed at him. “No. About me.” She clarified.

“Sure.” He replied. “I like you a lot.” Stiles raised his eyebrows, not in surprise, not in confusion, but in admiration. He had a big goofy smile on his face, “Why are you looking at me like that?” Y/n asked him. “Cause the most beautiful girl in the world is in front of me.” He admitted.

Y/n blushed at the comment, “Thank you.” She looked down for a second but then brought her eyes back up to his when she said “Pretty boy.” Stiles’ ears got hot, he felt his cheeks get warm as well. She was perfect for him, even if she was popular.

He then kissed her, she accepted, once they broke apart they looked at each other. “I’m not sleepy anymore.” She told him. “Can you help me with homework?” She asked with a smile on her face. “Mhm.” He replied.

They broke apart, Stiles sat at his desk, she told him which problem and before he started explaining he placed Y/n on his lap. Once he finished helping her with a problem, she kissed him on the cheek, “Thank you love.”

“Babeee.” He once again whispered in class. “Yeah?” She whispered back, actually talking to him this time. “I’ll tell you later.” He chickened out. Y/n looked at him with a raised brow, “You okay?” He nodded in response.

Once again they were in the hallways hand in hand though. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked again. “Yup.” He simply responded, she frowned at him worriedly. “Stiles..” she warned. He let out a breath, “Meet me on the field in 10?” She nodded confusingly.

She waited exactly ten minutes before going to the field, once she walked on the field she saw Stiles had a bouquet of roses. “What’s up with the roses?” She asked. “They’re for you.” He held them out to her, she smiled at him. “But why? It’s not our anniversary.” She told him while smelling the flowers.

“Because I have something really important to tell you.” He confessed. She nodded in understanding before Scott came out of nowhere and gave him a bear and chocolates, Y/n was amused by the best friend. “Hiya Scott.” She acknowledged. He mumbled a quick hi before reaching for his pocket and roses fell above them.

“Stiles, you don’t have to do all this to tell me something important.” She smiled at him. Scott then fled the scene, “I know but I wanted to.” He then gave her the chocolates and the bear. She happily accepted giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I love you.” He finally said, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re not only my girlfriend but my best friend. I love how we help each other with homework. I love how you clarified that I didn’t have to be nervous just because you were popular. You’re perfect. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen and I love you.” He confessed.

Y/n’s eyes watered, “I love you too.” She replied, Stiles let out a breath. “Oh thank god. That feels good to get off my chest.” He smiled happily at his girlfriend and her back at him. Y/n jumped on him Stiles grabbed her waist while she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me too.” Stiles laughed lightly. “I love you.” He said once again. “That’s never gonna get old. I love you too.” She told him, and she then kissed him. She then heard a “Wohoo!” She looked at the bleachers to see Scott, she laughed at him.

“I love you too Scotty.” She told him looking at him, while Stiles kissed her cheek. He knew that she meant it as a friend. When she said that Scott immediately looked at her, he widely smiled at the couple. He gave them a thumbs up. “Love you too!” He replied, while skipping away like a kid, causing the couple to laugh.

[natashasgrl]

Siblings And Secrets - Stiles Stilinski

The halls of Beacon Hills High School were buzzing with activity as students rushed from one class to another. Stiles Stilinski, with his backpack slung over one shoulder and a determined expression, weaved his way through the crowded corridors. He was on a mission, one that had been eating at him for a while now.

Meanwhile, you sat in your classroom, trying to focus on the teacher's lecture, but your thoughts kept drifting. You had been keeping a secret from your brother, Scott, and it was getting harder to maintain the façade. You were in a relationship with Stiles, a secret you'd sworn to keep. However, the weight of it was becoming too much to bear.

After the final bell rang, you met up with Stiles by your lockers. He had a nervous energy about him as he fiddled with his keys.

"Stiles, we need to tell Scott," you said, determined.

Stiles sighed, "I know. It's just... he's my best friend, and if he reacts badly, it could change everything."

You placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "I know, but I can't keep lying to my twin. He deserves to know the truth."

With those words, you grabbed Stiles' hand, and together, you walked toward Scott's house. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the town. The McCall house stood at the end of the street, a symbol of security and family.

Knocking on the door, you waited anxiously. Scott opened it, his face lighting up when he saw you. "Hey, sis! What's up?"

You took a deep breath. "Scott, there's something I need to tell you."

Scott's brow furrowed as he looked at you and Stiles, standing close together. "What's going on?"

You exchanged a glance with Stiles before taking another deep breath. "Stiles and I are dating."

Scott's eyes widened in surprise. He blinked a few times, clearly processing the information. "You two are... dating? Since when?"

Stiles answered, "A few months now. We didn't want to keep it a secret, but we were worried about how you'd react."

Scott's initial shock melted into a smile. "You're my best friend, Stiles, and you're my sister. It might take some getting used to, but I'm happy for you both. Just promise me you'll still be there for me and that nothing will change between us."

Relief washed over you, and you hugged your brother tightly. "Of course, Scott. We're a team, no matter what."

With that, the three of you shared a heartfelt moment, knowing that your bond as siblings and friends would remain strong. You had taken a risk in revealing your relationship, but it was a risk worth taking, for the truth had only brought you closer as a family.

[heliads]

hi

can i request a lydia martin x female reader? y/n is new in town and ends up getting along with the pack. she's a lot like lydia, genius smart, loves fashion, really girly, the major difference is that she's quiet and kinda shy, so everyone expects the two of them to become friends, but lydia really dislikes her and feels like she's being replaced by her. enemies to lovers, you know?

hope you like it and feel comfortable writing <3

reader: excuse me, i am smart, i am gay, i have the ability to make you jealous, i'm ~new in town~

masterlist

You are finding it hard to believe in the power of a fresh start. Everyone phrased it that way when it was first announced that you would be completely wrecking your old life to move to a town in the middle of Nowheresville, California, but you saw through it from the start. This would not be a wonderful chance to reinvent yourself, nor a blessed opportunity for trying again. This would be awful, and nothing about Beacon Hills could change that.

You already did your time of starting from scratch in a classroom you didn’t recognize back home. Home is not Beacon Hills, home is where you were born, where people knew you from kindergarten through your teenage years. Beacon Hills only has claim to you for the few years you have left in high school, and after that, you’re moving back to your hometown. So you’ve promised yourself, at least.

However, Beacon Hills doesn’t like it when its pawns and pieces get minds of their own. The only way people leave this town is through death, either theirs or that of someone they love. You don’t know that now, but you’ll learn it soon enough. It’s a lesson of inevitability for anyone daring enough to live in a supernatural hot spot even half the strength of this godforsaken town.

Death has not darkened your doorstep, however, and you go to your first day of school with only the apprehension of wondering if you’ll find enough friends to make this town worth your while. The students seem pretty friendly when they’re not judging you behind three ring binders or over locker doors, but what else is new? Beacon Hills High School is still a high school, and that means it can only be so great when you’re not one of its usual crew.

It’s a good thing, then, that you managed to stumble upon people who would embrace you with open arms. You met Scott McCall first when both of you were paired together for a chemistry lab, then Stiles second in a math class. After that, it was almost inevitable that you would join the rest of their group, their pack. If you can win over Scott and Stiles, you’re guaranteed to fit right in.

It’s nice being with the McCall crew. They watch each other’s backs, they stand up for themselves, anything you could want in a friend group. It takes them a while to trust you long enough to share exactly why that is, but even afterwards, it only solidifies the bond you have with the rest of them. Their world is strange and utterly confusing, but they’ve managed to navigate it together so far, and now that together includes you as well.

It would be perfect were it not for the presence of one person in that group. No one can understand why it is that you and Lydia Martin cannot get along, but the facts remain just as solid as always. Every time you and Lydia cross paths, you can’t escape without at least a few angry comments exchanged. Terse words are a must, and sarcastic retorts are a necessity. There’s no way kindness can prosper if the two of you have to work together.

It makes no sense. You and Lydia should be the closest here of anybody, with the exception of Scott and Stiles. Both of you are clever, among the smartest in your classes; both of you like being right, especially when it saves the lives of your friends. Malia and the rest have told you about a thousand times over that you guys could talk about so much if you would just talk to each other at all. 

That, however, seems to be far easier to say than to do. Lydia won’t let you get in a word unless she’s got the upper hand, and you’re no better. You’re not talking unless you’re sniping at each other, and that’s hardly talking at all. 

You’re not going to act like it totally ruins your friendship with the rest of the McCall pack, only that it’s frustrating you’ll never be able to win over the full set. You don’t need Lydia Martin to love you, though, she just has to tolerate your presence long enough to save your life if necessary, and she does that just fine. 

Too fine, actually. Scott gets it into his head that you should all split up to stake out potential hunter territory to see if they’re planning something big. Seeing as you’re still new to the whole hunter/supernatural deal, you’ll have to have someone there with you to keep you alive if your cover is blown, and of all the people to watch your back, he chooses Lydia. 

You tried to fight that choice as much as possible. If you have to be stuck in the dark of night with someone for an extended period of time, wouldn’t it be better if it was a person you could actually stand? Anyone else would be just fine by you. Even Theo Raeken, and the guy’s literally tried to kill everyone about half a dozen times. 

Scott disagrees, though, citing this as the perfect chance for you and Lydia to finally mend some bridges instead of burning them. You may think he’s insane, but Scott’s word is law, mostly because he’s the most capable of making reasonable decisions of all of you. 

This may be true, but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. You roll up to the stakeout with expectations on the ground, and when Lydia greets you with an eye roll, the bar descends even lower than expected. You’ll both be sitting in her car and waiting for something to happen, and all you can think is that three hours cannot pass quickly enough. 

Lydia chuckles derisively when you climb into her car. Evidently you’re not as good at concealing your disdain for this evening as you’d like to think. “You might want to work on your poker face, sweetheart. You’re looking a little unhappy.”

“Wonder why that is,” you say, settling into your seat with great reluctance, “it’s not like I’m stuck in a car for hours with someone who hates me. Oh wait, I am.”

Lydia frowns. “I don’t hate you.”

You scoff. “Of course you do. We pick fights every time we talk. You’re even arguing with me now about how much we dislike each other.”

Lydia goes silent for a second, then:  “I don’t want anyone to think I hate them. Unless they deserve it, of course.”

“I haven’t killed you or our friends yet,” you remark, “isn’t that enough for me to not deserve it?”

“It should be,” Lydia replies hesitantly. 

Yet it isn’t, which is what she isn’t saying. You exhale, irritated, and turn your attention back towards the house outside, you know, like you were supposed to be doing all this time. The sun sets and disappears beneath the horizon, and once the stars have bothered to take their place, Lydia speaks again. 

“It is.”

You look at her, confused. “What is?”

Lydia gestures vaguely at you. “What you said earlier. What you’ve done isn’t enough for me to hate you.”

“Then why do you?” You ask slowly. 

Lydia tosses you an affronted look. “I don’t, but you seem so determined to dislike me that you think I do anyway.”

Your hackles are rising again, and you feel yourself rushing to counter what she’d just said. “Only because you never give me a chance to do anything else!”

Lydia groans. “See, this is exactly what I mean. Neither of us can say anything without the other taking it as an insult.”

You pause for a second, and when you speak again, your words are calm and cautious. “What about a truce, then?”

Lydia nods. “I’d like a truce.”

She holds out a hand to you and you shake it with as much solemnity as you can muster. It’s awkward for a while after that, both of you apparently unable to come up with things to say that aren’t direct insults, but slowly the conversation comes and then you’re finding connections between each other you never knew existed in the first place. 

In fact, by the time your phone vibrates with the alarm you’d set to mark the end of the stakeout, you find that you’re almost disappointed to leave the car. Lydia must feel the same way, because she only lets you go with a promise to meet up later to talk. For real, this time. Truce continued without the forced proximity of a stakeout. 

You end up meeting Lydia later that week for coffee, then two days later for a study session, then again for a review of your favorite fashion house’s spring collection. The meetups seem to follow each other in waves, no one ever enough to make you tired of her company. If anything, it only makes you want it more. 

You never really considered what the others must think about the abrupt 180 in your interactions with Lydia until you’re at a pack meeting about a month later and Malia confronts you about it. 

The meeting is over, and just as you’re letting down your guard and pulling on your coat, Malia calls something out to you in typical no-nonsense Malia fashion. 

“So,” she says with unimaginable confidence, “how long have you and Lydia been dating?”

You feel every bit of air leave your lungs, and it takes a few seconds for you to recover enough to sputter out, “What?”

Malia spreads her hands. “How long have you been dating? You guys are together all the time. When did you first get together?”

Across the room, Lydia looks as if she’s just been shot. “We’re not dating, Malia.”

Malia frowns. “What do you mean? Of course you are.”

She looks as if she’d like to spend at least a few minutes more explaining all the ways you’re totally in a relationship with Lydia when Scott gently but firmly guides her by the arm out of the room. He winces over his shoulder as he goes, mouthing something like sorry about that and I’ll talk to her about it, I swear. 

You and Lydia are left staring at each other in complete shock. “Crazy mixup she had there, isn’t it?” Lydia asks faintly. “I mean, who could have even thought…”

You shrug weakly. “I mean, is it really such a leap? We go places together without anyone else all the time. We have inside jokes. You have my contact saved in your phone with a heart next to the name.”

Lydia shakes her head. “That’s just because it’s your favorite color. There was no other shape with it. You know that.”

When you stare at her for a moment longer, her eyes clear. “Oh, I see how that could look to someone who wasn’t there.”

“What if she wasn’t entirely wrong?” You ask as casually as you can, “you know, it does look like we’re dating. We might as well just go ahead and make it official.”

Lydia blinks in surprise, then: “Y/N L/N, are you asking me out?”

It takes everything in you to not turn and run. “Are you saying yes?”

Lydia laughs. “Yes, I think I am.”

You think you might owe Malia a favor after this. Intentional or not, she finally managed to get you and Lydia together. That’s at least worth saving her life a couple of times. 

teen wolf tag list: @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @23victoria

[sterek-ao3feed]

No Such Thing As Ghosts

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/60298210

by idratherwrite

Derek once joked that he was an undercover agent, placed by Stiles’ own dad, to keep Stiles safe from his own ideas. Stiles suspects Derek meant ideas like this one.

Words: 1706, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 16 of Exchanges, Gifts & Bangs by Mint

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Additional Tags: Ghosts, Ghost Hunters, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, College Student Stiles Stilinski, College Student Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Protective Derek Hale, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60298210

[specialagentlokitty]

Derek hale x Reader - teach me

I would love a request about Derek Hale x reader where she has a crush on him and she like 19 or 20 nd Derek loves her back as well , and she's also a born werewolf from India and she's a foreign exchange from India nd she friends with Scott nd Stiles. And they over hear her talking Hindi language and they are shocked. She explains to the pack nd Derek where she's from nd her history background. That there are not only werewolf in Beacon Hill but outside beacon hills - Anon💜

A/N: so when someone is talking in Hindi it’ll be in italics (like this) this is because I am unable to read or write Hindi

Sitting in the loft, you had books scattered around you, a mixture of homework to research that you were doing.

The pack had to go out, but Derek said you could stay to catch up on the work you needed to for school and look some things up for them while they went out to do some investigating.

Sure, you could’ve gone with them, but you had to make sure your grades were kept atop of if you wanted to stay as an exchange student for the university it was part of the contract you had to sign with them.

Taking a small break, you leant back on your hands and let out a small sigh as you tried to release all the tension from your body.

What brought you out of your relaxation was the sound of your phone ringing it.

Picking it up, you smiled to yourself and walked over to the windowsill to sit down as you answered the phone and stuck it on speaker.

“Good morning.”

“Morning (Y/N), how is everything? How are you? We haven’t heard from you all week!”

You laughed a little and shook your head.

“I’m fine, everything is going well. I’m really sorry for not calling you mom, I’ve been so busy with school.”

“That’s fine, that’s fine. I’m glad you’re doing your studies. Have you made friends? What are the people like? Are you taking care in full moons?”

Smiling to yourself, you rested your arms on your knees and propped your chin on them as you hummed a little.

“Yes, I’ve made many friends. They’re actually werewolves! They’re a pack, one is a banshee and another is a human, it’s a strange pack. They’re really friendly though, very good people. I met their alpha Scott while I was looking for work and walked into the veterinary clinic.”

You could hear your mom whispering over the phone, she must be talking to your dad and letting him know how everything was going.

“Good! So are you part of his pack too?” Your dad asked.

You hummed a little, thinking a moment before replying.

“Yes and no. I’m not an actual pack member, since you and every back home are my real pack. They’re like a surrogate pack I suppose.”

You carried on talking to your family, letting them update you on everything that was happening there and you shared stories of your time in beacon hills.

You were so invested in the phone call you weren’t aware of the loft door opening or closing, or the people coming in.

They all stopped when they saw you were on the phone, and Derek was the one who gestured for the teenagers to be quiet as they walked over to the table and set some things down.

They stuck to what they were doing, but when you spoke up they all stopped.

“Mom you don’t have to be worried, I’m being safe. It’s okay. I need to go but I will call you later okay?”

“You better, I need to know you’re safe.”

“I will, I will.” You laughed.

You heard your mom grumble on the other end of the line.

“Okay, be well. I love you.”

“I love you Mom, tell dad I love him too. Bye!”

You hung up and swung your legs back over the windowsill, grinning at the pack who were just staring at you in shock.

“Sorry, my mom called.”

“That’s fine…” Scott whispered.

“What the hell was that?!” Stiles rushed out, “what language was that?! Why didn’t we know?!”

“Stiles!” Lydia hissed.

Laughing sheepishly, you rubbed the back of your head as you grinned at them a little bit.

“Well, you know I’m exchange student, right?”

They all nodded.

“I’m front India, I was born and raised there. I decided to come here because we heard stories of a true alpha, and I was curious. And here has a better course programme from what I want to study.”

“Wait, you heard of a true alpha? In India?” Malia asked confused.

“Yes, news travels fast in the supernatural world you know. My pack is a rather prestigious pack in my country, we are very large and well known. My father is the alpha.”

“There’s werewolves outside of the states?” Stiles whisper yelled.

You nodded again.

“Yes, many countries have werewolves and other supernatural creatures. Though nowhere near as many as America has.”

“So have your family always been werewolves?” Derek asked.

You turned to him now that he had finally spoken and gave him a smile, shaking your head at his question.

“No, many, many years ago one of my ancestors was bitten by an alpha who was alone and scared, in need of a pack. So she created her own, out of fear of being lost in an unknown country. As time went on more and more packs stared appearing across the country, but my pack has always remained the largest. My father adopts stray werewolves with nowhere to go, and they become part of our family.”

He nodded his head and for the next hour you answered all the questions they asked you.

Finally when they seemed satisfied you got on with what they had found while they were out and what it was you guys needed to look for next and the next course of action.

Everyone left pretty early today, and while you were packing your homework away, and putting Derek’s books back where you had gotten them from he approached you.

“Can you stay for a minute.” He whispered.

You nodded, and turned to Stiles and Scott who were waiting to drop you off home.

“It’s okay, I’m staying here. I will walk home.”

“It’s not safe.” Scott frowned.

“I’ll take her home.” Derek said.

They seemed happy with this and left, and Derek waited for you to finish putting the books away before he gestured to the couch.

Walking over, you both sat down and turned to face the former alpha.

“What is it?” You asked.

Derek opened his mouth but closed it again.

“Derek?”

He looked up at you, and turned away.

“I want you to speak in Hindi again.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I just… it sounds nice.” He mumbled.

Smiling a little, you crossed your legs and rested your hands in your lap.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

Derek smiled a little bit and looked up to face you.

“Could you teach me?”

“To speak Hindi?”

He nodded his head.

“Sure, but can I ask why? You don’t have to tell me.”

Derek reached over and placed his hand on your cheek, letting you lean into his touch.

“Because I want to be able to talk to you without the others knowing. I want to know you, and your language, and be able to talk to you in your native language.”

“I’d love that.”

“Good. Now, how do you say this?”

He leant forward and brushed his lips against yours.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered.

You sucked in a small breath.

“Yes…”

“Tell me how to say it…”

You leant forward but he leant back away from you.

It took a while for derek to be able to pick up the words and sounds of the language, but he kept his face just inches from yours.

It was agonising to wait, and every time you went to kiss him he moved away.

Eventually he was able to semi pronounce it. It didn’t quite sound right, and he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of the pronunciation but you still knew what he was saying.

“Can I… kiss you…?”

He finally asked it, and he asked it in Hindi.

Without hesitation you leant forward and crashed your lips onto his in a desperate kiss. One you’d been wanting to give him for months ever since you realised how you felt for him

[rose-of-oz]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐍

❝ Nobody would have to know April Hannigan for long to learn two very important things about her: one, that she was determined to be the best student Beacon Hills High had ever had, and two, she hated Lydia Martin. And though that might have seemed like a rather extreme mindset, it also could not be denied that the object of April’s disdain felt exactly the same way about her. Almost from the moment the two girls had been old enough to understand competition and the importance of academic success, they had been locked in a constant battle of grades and tests and icy glares exchanged in the halls, each vying to be the school’s top student, with the title bouncing between them over the years as both girls earned it and lost it to the other again before getting it back.

But their academic rivalry wasn’t the only reason April hated Lydia, although it may very well have been the main reason. Though she likely wouldn’t admit it even with a gun to her head, April resented Lydia for having what she did not; popularity, a friend group, a boyfriend, and all of it while she still managed to find time to study and engage in the girls’ competition. April didn’t have that - she had always devoted all of her time to books and studying and mock tests made to test her skills, and as such had not a friend to speak of, much less any hope of anyone being romantically interested in her. It was better this way, she had always told herself, repeating in her head the words her (admittedly rather absent and emotionally distant) parents always told her; if she could just study hard enough, earn good enough grades, she could get a full ride to whatever university she wanted and get a degree she could turn into a successful career, and by that point friends wouldn’t matter at all.

April may have told herself that, over and over and over, but she knew deep down that she didn’t really mean it. She wanted friends, even if so long spent ignoring people in favor of her textbooks had left her totally socially incompetent, cold, and too ignorant of others’ feelings to ever truly make connections. She supposed it was yet another reason she could hardly see Lydia without wanting to punch her perfectly made-up face: she knew how similar she and Lydia truly were at their cores, how intelligent and brutally honest and dedicated to being the best, and the fact that the other girl continually put on a mask, pretending to be yet another ditsy popular girl who fawned over her boyfriend, and was rewarded socially because of it, while April fully embraced that part of herself and was left out in the cold, enraged her.

Still, it wasn’t as if there was anything she could do about it, and so April has resigned herself to continuing on as she was - studying and ever improving her grades, spending all her nights alone in her room rather than out with friends or at parties, and, hopefully, eventually ending her high school career having come out on top of Lydia Martin, becoming valedictorian and leaving Beacon Hills forever to pursue higher education. Until, that is, she winds up locked in the school at night with her academic nemesis, her douchebag boyfriend, and the only two friends she’s ever had, who she hasn’t talked to since middle school, hiding from some kind of murderous creature that Scott and Stiles somehow seem to know.

Abruptly dragged into a whole new world where werewolves are apparently real and very dangerous, April finds that all her textbooks and test prep materials can’t help her now. But she also finds herself reconnecting with Scott and Stiles, even making some new friends, and possibly… maybe… starting to realize that Lydia Martin isn’t all that bad.

Not that April’s not still going to beat her in the valedictorian race even if it kills her. Her mission might just, possibly, involve a more friendly rivalry (and maybe even some confessions and kissing, if that damned meddler Stiles has anything to say about it) than she’d originally planned. ❞

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @auxiliarydetective, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand, @ginevrastilinski-ocs, @luucypevensie, @ginger-grimm, @arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @impales, @claryxjackson, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @oneirataxia-girl, @ocappreciationtag. (Also tagging @nolanhollogay.)

[sterek-exchange]

When the Teacher Met the Agent for mintonarel

Derek Hale has been a teacher for almost five years in NYC, but this year he is back in Beacon Hills and has taken his first job as a Kindergarten teacher. However, unlike in NYC, he has multiple Supernatural students, which is something he was not expecting. Especially a certain Stiles Stilinski, who smells...weird. Who is this boy who runs with wolves, and why can't he get him out of his head? Snippets from them meeting to maybe, possibly, falling in love.

Summer 2023 @sterek-exchange Event For @mintonarel

[clotpolesonly]

In The Stacks

for @sunflowerqueen for the Stiles Shipping Central discord server's monthly ficlet exchange, the prompt for which was "libraries/bookstores"! this one probably only qualifies as pre-slash 😅 but i hope it satisfies anyway, haha | Stoyd | 1.5k | Gen | Libraries | Pre-Slash | Anxiety | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | (also on AO3)

.

Stiles didn’t go to the library very often. It was a quiet place, and Stiles was not a quiet person. He was also more adept at internet searches than he was at navigating the Dewey Decimal System, and he didn’t have the patience for poring through book after book after book looking for something that he could’ve just control+F searched for if it had been digital.

But sometimes, unfortunately, professors wanted you to prove you actually knew how to read. Thus, here Stiles was, entering the Beacon Hills Community College library for the first time, seven months into his journey of higher education. He’d been hoping to hold out the whole first year, just for kicks. He tried not to resent his Violence and Social Conflict in American History professor for requiring he break his streak and began scanning the stacks for whatever arbitrary shelf number corresponded with social conflict.

He’d found naturalism and related systems, Aristotelian philosophy, and general statistics of Europe when something drew him up short. The shelves weren’t exactly packed full—it was mid-afternoon on a Friday, the sun was shining, and the library was nobody’s first choice in those circumstances—but Stiles had passed his fair share of other students so far, none of the slightest bit familiar. But here, in the public finances aisle, was a very familiar face.

Stiles had entirely forgotten that Boyd went to this school too. He hadn’t seen him on campus all year. He’d barely seen him anywhere else either, only in passing when Scott was back in town from UC Davis and needed to do werewolf stuff, tucked into the backseat of Derek’s car or hovering impatiently at the edge of the woods. As much as Stiles had tried—and he'd really tried—he had never managed to get Boyd to look at him twice, much less be friends with him.

Him and Scott. Stiles had wanted Boyd to be friends with them, not just him. To be part of the pack and stuff. Hadn’t Boyd gotten the bite so he could have friends? Stiles had offered to be that friend! Collectively, with other people!

The specifics weren’t important. Obviously, it hadn’t worked.

Stiles was just opening his mouth to comment on how unlikely and fortuitous it was for them to run into each other like this and maybe it was a sign that they should try the whole “friend” thing again when he heard the wheezing. He stopped to actually take in what he was seeing.

Boyd had folded his considerable height onto the floor. His back was pressed up against the lowest shelf, head tipped back into a space absent of books, eyes closed tightly. His hands were clenched into fists on his knees. His breathing was strained enough for Stiles to hear it from the end of the row, sounding tight and pained and also, unfortunately, familiar.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Boyd’s eyes snapped open, flashing yellow. Stiles glanced around hastily to make sure there was no one to see, but this particular patch of the library was blessedly empty. By the time he looked back, Boyd’s eyes were brown again and his face was slack with relief.

“Stiles,” he said. “What are you—”

He didn’t finish the question, distracted by the need to breathe. Stiles approached with caution. Not because he thought Boyd might lose control or hurt him, but because he’d had panic and anxiety attacks than he could shake a stick at and company didn’t always help the situation.

He half-expected Boyd to snap at him. That’s what he’d done most of the time in high school, whenever Stiles had tried to ingratiate himself. He’d gotten a little more chill about it over the course of senior year, even going so far as to tolerate Stiles’ presence at the same lunch table, but Stiles’ presence had never been his favorite thing.

He didn’t snap this time. In fact, the closer Stiles got to him, the less tense he seemed to become. The fists on his knees loosened to reveal splotches of red where his hidden claws had dug into his palms, cuts already healed. His shoulders slumped, bit by bit, from where they’d been hiked up around his ears. He wasn’t wheezing anymore.

Gingerly, Stiles eased himself to the floor, leaving a good few inches between them. Somehow, against every natural inclination, he managed to not say anything. He just pulled a random book off the shelf across from him and started skimming.

It was a few minutes before Boyd shifted beside him. “What are you doing here, Stilinski?” he asked, voice hoarse.

Stiles shrugged. “I go here too.”

He wasn’t looking, but he was almost certain Boyd rolled his eyes. “Not on campus. I mean…”

Stiles shrugged again, his nonchalance a little less genuine this time. He didn’t look up from his book. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay. I can leave, if you want.”

He waited for Boyd to tell him to fuck off. He’d skimmed another four pages before he realized that he wasn’t going to. Tentatively, Stiles glanced over at him. He found Boyd already looking at him, a frown on his face that, for once, didn’t look annoyed.

“I hate living on campus,” Boyd told him, unprompted. “There’s too many people. Too many strangers.” He looked away, a muscle in his jaw flexing as he clenched his teeth. “Apparently, being kidnapped twice gives you trust issues where strangers are concerned.”

Stiles couldn’t stop a snort from escaping. “Yeah, go figure. I’m not great at making new friends either. And I only got kidnapped the once.”

The huff of breath that Boyd let out, just short of a laugh, should not have made Stiles feel as accomplished as it did. In his defense, he had been trying to make Boyd laugh for literal years. When Boyd turned his face back, he was smiling. Just barely, but it was there. That felt even better.

“I was gonna get food,” he heard himself say. “I mean, I was gonna find some books, and then I was gonna get food, afterwards. If you maybe wanted to— I mean, you don’t have to, it’s fine, I just thought maybe—”

“Okay.”

Stiles blinked at him. “Wait, really? Like, actually? You’ve never been willing to be seen with me in public before. Or tolerated my presence out of either.”

Boyd definitely rolled his eyes this time, but the little smile stayed. He levered himself off the ground and said, “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Stiles saw, though, the way that he looked over his shoulder, eyes roving the stacks like he couldn’t help it. Still searching for threats. He also saw the flare of Boyd’s nostrils as he breathed in and the way his eyes were drawn back to Stiles. Empathy wasn’t Stiles’ strongest suit, and he’d never been accused of being particularly perceptive where other people’s feelings were concerned, but Stiles was almost certain of three things in that moment: firstly, that Boyd did not want to be alone right now and was choosing to allow Stiles to keep him company; secondly, that Boyd was deliberately seeking out his scent and getting comfort from it; and thirdly, that, friends or not, Boyd trusted him.

When Boyd held out a hand, Stiles took it and let himself be pulled off the floor with an ease that was, and had always been, downright distracting. Equally distracting was the knowledge that it would’ve been just that easy even without the werewolf strength—what did Boyd need werewolfiness for when he had biceps like that?

Stiles patted the bicep in question, which Boyd allowed with an unusual amount of patience, and said, “Books! Then food! I gotta find some books.”

He looked around them. They were, in fact, surrounded by books. So many books. Why did libraries have to have so many fucking books? How was anybody supposed to find anything in this place? He said as much out loud and, wonder of all wonders, Boyd laughed. A real one this time, complete with vocalization and dimples and everything. Fuck.

Boyd took pity on him, possibly mistaking his dazedness for simple library-related overwhelm. “What are you looking for? Unlike you, I actually know how to navigate a library like a normal person.”

Stiles told him, and Boyd led the way through the shelves with a confidence that was as attractive as everything else about him. He helped Stiles carry the dozen books he decided he needed down to check-out. He even let Stiles talk about them over lunch, something like fondness hanging around the upturned corner of his mouth, without a single complaint.

Maybe it was just gratitude for Stiles sitting with him, but that was okay. It was progress from where they’d started, and as Stiles drove Boyd back to his dorm, he thought that maybe he would be seeing that familiar face a little more often from now on.

[sapphireginger]

Title: Don’t Be Talkin’ Bout My Girls

Characters: Stiles Stilinski & Jackson Whittemore

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Warnings:

Homophobic Behavior, Thoughts, Slurs & Etc. Objectification Implied Past Rape/Non-Con of a Minor Toxic Masculinity

Square Filled: Stiles x Jackson For: @lgbtqbingo

WC: 3,588

Summary:

Amber eyes found each of the attackers in the sea of students once more and smirked. “You came after me and while that was bad, I would’ve left you alone but then you came after my people. You came after my friends, my best friends. You. Came. After. My. Girls.”

Stiles had one best friend that he had known since diapers. Her name was Heather but when they were five years old, Heather’s father got a job and they had to move. It sucked and Stiles was really upset about it. He would watch the window, hoping it was just a joke and any minute she’d be back. 

School started in the fall and Heather hadn’t come back. Stiles was really sad, but when he got to his kindergarten classroom, Stiles met Erica who became his closest friend. She was Catwoman and he was Batman.

After Erica was Allison who they called Ally, Hayden and Tracy, rounding out their group to four lovely ladies and one gorgeous guy. Then by the time they reached eight grade it was Stiles, Erica, Ally, Tracy, Hayden, Kira and Lydia. No one understood it. It made no sense to anyone. How was it possible for one guy to have all female friends and not be sleeping with at least two of them? 

Freshman year of high school, Stiles tried out for the soccer team. He made it and got slotted into first string. Then came Sophomore year of high school and Stiles was first string once more as well as an alternate for captain. 

Some of the guys on Stiles’s soccer team, who fancied some of the girls Stiles was friends with, decided to see if they could go through him, thereby getting an in with the girls. He was one of them, one of the guys, and they tried to get him to put in a good word for them with a couple of the girls. 

However, Stiles would only scoff and tell them if they wanted to ask one of his friends out, then they had better grow a pair and do it themselves. That got him beat up and dumped in the shower. They turned on the freezing cold water, gagged him, tied him up and shouted slurs at him over and over again until he passed out. Then they left him there, snickering and elbowing each other. It was only after they left that they regretted not taking a picture for posterity.

The team left, shutting off all the lights and wondered how the little bitch would get home without his clothes which they decided last minute to take with them. A round of high fives was exchanged before they all parted ways, eager for the reactions of the rest of the school when they saw the state the little shit was in.

☆💗☆

However, the next day when the attackers leaned against their lockers and waited with glee to see just how cowed the amber eyed boy would be, they were stunned into silence. 

When the school doors opened, Stilinski was there all right. However, he was now in a pair of purple spandex shorts, a long sleeved white Henley, a black and gray sleeveless vest, and his lucky converse, one pink and one blue. To top off the look he had pair of black rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He looked so soft and dare some of his peers say...cuddly? That in itself was shocking as it was the antithesis of his usual attire, but then, flanking him on both sides and covering him from behind, were Ally, Erica, Tracy, Hayden, Lydia, and Kira. Those six were joined by the newest girls, Danielle and Heather. Heather had moved back that past weekend and of course, she was right by Stiles’s side just like she always had been before.

While Stiles was more feminine in his appearance, the girls were more slightly masculine. They wore white skinny jeans, pink or purple t-shirts-alternating with each girl-and blue leather jackets. Their feet sported gray heeled boots or gray converse, once again alternating with each girl. The guys felt a bit intimidated and horny all at once. It wasn't what any of them had expected of today.

The group walked through the halls with their heads held high and ignored everyone else. Students watched with a myriad of expressions ranging from envy, jealousy and hatred to longing, disappointment and hope. 

Everywhere Stiles was, the girls would be too. Wherever the girls were, Stiles would be there as well. No one could explain it but a couple of the guys from the soccer team who felt snubbed, convinced some cheerleaders from a rival school to help them out. It was easy to steal a couple journals and sneak some photos. 

When they saw that most of the girls were drawn to other girls, they were furious, but the biggest revelation was that Stiles was asexual. That set off all the guys who were interested in the girls. It was obvious Stilinski didn’t want the girls in the way the rest of the guys did. So why the fuck was he keeping those beauties from the ones who did want them? 

Why was he standing between those girls and the guys who could show them what real men are like? It wasn’t like they would ever find out from Stilinski. After all, the guy was a fucking fairy anyway. Everyone knew he had a boyfriend, but no one had ever seen said boyfriend. Therefore, a lot of people didn't believe the guy. Another reason it pissed the guys off was because they didn't believe he was truly asexual either. None of them could imagine not wanting sex or to fuck some pretty little thing. Maybe he didn't want to fuck the girls, but the guys exchanged a look with sadistic smirks. Perhaps he was a pillow biter and a fag. 

It looked like the guys would be doing some more ass whooping on the Stilinski kid. He needed to learn a lesson and they were more than willing to make sure it got beaten into him if necessary.

☆💗☆

Sunday night, the guys broke into the school and got everything set up for the following morning. 

Monday morning, the halls were plastered with photos of the girls, copies of diary entries and worst of all, a photo of Stiles with bruises and some other unexplained markings had been blown up. Not that the guys cared. The little shit deserved it. 

However, none of them took into account that Stiles as Student Body President and a TA was always there early before classes started. His eyes widened when he saw the photos, diary entries and the photo of himself. The hour he had before people showed up was usually spent helping the principal and the teachers but that day it was spent clearing the entire school of every single picture and diary entry. He nearly threw up when he tore down the picture of himself.

Once again, the guys were filled with sadistic glee as they hopped out of their sports cars and stalked up to the school doors. They were feeling victorious and confident that what they had done would finally knock Stilinski down for good. If not, well, they’d take a more drastic action. As it was, they were hoping to see tears but that was not what happened. 

In fact, there wasn’t time to go to class or to their lockers as the principal announced over the intercom that there would be an all school assembly instead of first and second period. No one knew why but they didn’t have a choice. So, irked that they hadn’t gotten to see the look on the little shit’s face, the guys decided they’d handle it after the assembly. Everyone filed into the auditorium and took a seat, waiting to see what was going on. 

As per usual, Stiles, as Student Body President, spoke to the students. Today he was wearing pair of skinny jeans, a white Henley and his glasses once more, rounding the outfit out with a pair of pink, blue and purple converse. As he spoke, his words were clear, concise and he articulated in a tone that was icy and cold. The rage he felt after what he had witnessed, was like fire waiting to be unleashed. The guys who had it out for him ignored the way they all gulped in response. 

Then Stiles began. “Good morning, Beacon Hills High. Good morning teachers, staff, faculty and students. I know it might seem sudden that we are having an assembly out of the blue but honestly this has been a long time coming. I have a few things to say, and those for whom the words are intended will know who they are.

“To the ones it may concern, I could not care less about what you say to me. I could not care less what you say about me. I could not care less about what you do to me. What I do care about are my friends, my best friends. What I do care about are my girls. So, don’t you dare talk about my girls! I do not care why you feel the need to do to me what you did. I do not care why you feel the need to say to me what you have. I do not care why you feel the need to say about me the things you have said. As I said, say to and about me what you want. As I said, do to me what you want. I do not care but coming after the ones I love and will protect with everything I have, is where you–Sorry Principal Martin–is where you fucked up!

“These beautiful, strong, brave, intelligent, gorgeous women are worth so much more than your lust, your hunger, your desire, your degradation, your humiliating words and I know this because I know them. They are my best friends and have been for years. I know what you guys say about them when they aren’t there. Such gentlemen, right? You say they probably taste good, feel good, and smell good. You say they probably moan prettily, and say they probably beg beautifully. You even talk about their ‘O faces’ and flushed cheeks because you think you’ll do that great at pleasing them. You’re sick and think only with your dicks. The way you view women as objects for your own sexual gratification is exactly why you are not worthy of them, their time, their smiles, their laughter, their touch or their hugs.

“They don’t deserve to be seen as a prize to be won, a pound of flesh to satisfy your carnal desires, an object, or any other degrading thing. 

“As for me? Well, in case you didn’t know already, my name is Stiles Stilinski. I am Student Body President here at Beacon Hills High and as usual I was here early today. When I arrived on campus this morning, I came across a disturbing, disgusting and degrading sight. On the walls, the windows, the doors and even the ceiling as well as the bathroom mirrors were the evidence of how you view me and my girls. I saw the pictures, the private diary entries and more. Perhaps, you thought it would scare us or break us up. Perhaps you thought it would beat me down or scare me. Perhaps you thought it would hurt me, but it didn’t accomplish that. You were not successful, and you should know this–” He cut off and looked up, his eyes alight with a smug rage. “We know who did it.”

A ripple of murmuring went through the student body at his words, and the guys on the soccer team blanched, their faces paling. They sat up straighter, determined not to be cowed.

Stiles smirked and shrugged one shoulder. His eyes found his best friends, Erica’s smile being the one to help calm him so he could continue. “Then of course there was a picture of me. I bet you felt clever. I bet you felt proud, and reveled in the pain you expected it to cause me. I wonder if, when I tell you what that picture is from, if you will still feel that way.”

His eyes lock onto the captain of the soccer team. “The picture that you had blown up of me was the aftermath of an assault. That picture was of what happened when I came out as biromantic asexual to a friend from another school and was overheard. That picture is the fate I suffered for being who I am. That picture was from the night I was raped. I was raped, beaten, drugged and left for near dead just a few blocks from the school. It was my best friends, Erica, Tracy and Ally, who found me and got me the medical attention I needed.”

He takes a breath, shuddering as he slowly inhales and exhales. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be asexual and have no desire for sex? Do you have any idea what it’s like to be raped even if you were the most sexual person on the planet? Maybe you do. Maybe you don’t. I don’t know if any of you do but let me tell you something. Listen up because here’s the honest to hell truth. It was excruciating and I blacked out. The guy who–” He cut off and locked eyes with Tracy who had a rage filled expression but came to stand beside him. She linked their fingers together and squeezed his hand to ground him. 

“You can do this, Bambi,” she whispered, soft enough for his ears only.

Stiles nodded and looked back at the sea of students. “The guy who raped me, drugged me, beat me up and left me for dead is here. He’s a senior, with a full ride scholarship to Stanford of all places. I wonder if that would change if they knew what he’s done.” Amber eyes locked onto the senior who was frozen in terror with a murderous expression on his face as Stiles continued, “You can run if you want but they’re waiting for you.”

At the far right side of the auditorium a guy with a letterman jacket jumped up and bolted towards the double doors. He didn’t make it more than a few feet before he was taken down by Deputy Parrish, also known as Stiles’s older brother Jordan. 

Amber eyes found each of the attackers in the sea of students once more and smirked. “You came after me and while that was bad, I would’ve left you alone but then you came after my people. You came after my friends, my best friends. You. Came. After. My. Girls.” 

He held up his hand a small black remote visible. “So, consider this retribution.” 

He pressed a button on the small remote and the lights dimmed slightly. Everyone looked up to see images and videos on the projector screen for everyone to see. There was detailed proof and clear evidence of what the guys had done to him and his girls. Every single one of the ones responsible for the photos, diary entries and more were exposed to everyone at the school.

“Thank you for your time, Beacon Hills High,” he said into the microphone after the video stopped, leaving thirteen pictures up on the screen. Each a culprit that had been called out for what they had done. He let Tracy lead him away and was immediately swarmed by the girls. He was grateful when the principal allowed him to head home. It was a surprise to him that all eight of his friends were dismissed as well. 

That night Stiles painted Lydia’s toenails while Ally painted his and a movie played in the background. It was perfect. He loved his girls. Ally, Danielle, Erica, Hayden, Heather, Kira, Lydia, and Tracy. They were his best friends, and he was theirs. They became a pack, a group of close knit friends that were like family. 

By the end of their junior year, they gained Malia, Cora, Laura, Paige, Lori and Caitlin, bringing their group, their pack, their family, to a total of fourteen beautiful young women and one handsome young man. At least that’s what the girls would label Stiles as, despite his protests that were only halfhearted at best. 

The girls would teasingly call Stiles their alpha and pack mom. It made Stiles preen and the girls laughed fondly at the guy who they trusted with everything. He had proven himself to them over and over again and they would always be there for him. After all, he had always, always was and always would be there for them.

The sound of his phone ringing startled all of them, but Stiles grinned as he had a feeling, he knew who it was. 

"Hey Jax!"

"Hey, Bambi. How did it go today?"

Stiles chewed his lip and shrugged even though his boyfriend couldn't see it. "It was okay."

Tracy scoffed. "It was better than okay, Stiles."

The other girls nodded in agreement before Paige spoke up. "You stood up for all fourteen of us, Stiles. That's not just a simple okay thing. It was amazing." She offered him a sweet smile. Paige had always been one of the sweetest of them.

"I swear those guys looked ready to piss themselves." Erica crowed with a snicker. 

"Did you guys see the way Jordan took down the asshole who tried to run?" Cora said with a smirk. "Bet he will have a lot of fun in prison."

All of the girls continued to talk about how awesome Stiles had been and brave and then delved into other topics. Meanwhile, Jackson listened to his boyfriend try to downplay it again.

"It really wasn't much, Jax. I just did what anyone would do," he whispered from his place at the doorway. He didn't regret it at all, but he never knew what to do with compliments.

"I know you may think that, love. However, not everyone would do what you did. Are you doing okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Stiles asked, chewing on his thumb. 

Jackson sighed softly. "Because you came out to the entire school, brought up the attack, stood up to those guys and-"

"Okay, Jax," Stiles said. "I hear you. I guess I'm okay. I mean, I–" He cut off and sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "When will you be home?"

"Well, I actually am just landing in Cali."

Stiles's eyes widened and he squeaked. "You're here? Where? When will you be here? How long? Can you speed? I wanna see you! I need cuddles!"

A laugh echoed through the phone. "I'll be there soon, Little Fawn."

"Is that a promise?"

"There's nowhere else I want to be. I'll text you when I'm close."

"Oh no you won't mister!" Stiles chided. "No texting and driving. I'll just track you like any normal person."

Jackson scoffed. "Uh huh. Well, you're lucky you're cute."

Stiles blushed and rolled his eyes with a playful, pleased smile on his face. "You love me and all my awesomeness."

"What gave it away?" Jackson teased.

"Oh, let's see..." Stiles started. "The kisses and the cuddles. The peanut butter and chocolate shakes from heaven but oh so sinful. I could go on for hours and by then you'd already be here. So, you just get here safe and sound. Then I'll talk your ears off."

Another chuckle from Jackson made Stiles smile wider. "Yes, sir, Little Fawn. I'll be there before you know it, but I do have to attend to a minor injury now."

"Injury?!?!" Stiles squawked.

"Mhm. I have to pick my ears up off the floor. I mean you did talk them off already."

Stiles pouted. "Hardy, har, har," Stiles said dryly.

"Don't pout, Bambi. Especially when I'm not there to kiss the pout away."

"Then hurry back." He glanced over his shoulder to see the girls setting up for family fun night and smiled at them. "I'm gonna get my butt back in the living room. It's game night you know?"

"Okay. I'll see you soon."

Stiles sighed happily. "I love you, Jax."

"Love you more, Bambi. And hey?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm proud of you, Little Fawn."

The tips of Stiles's ears matched his cheeks with the new wave of blush triggered by the praise. "Thank you," he whispered. 

"You're welcome. Bye."

"Bye."

Stiles hung up and slipped his phone into his pocket. He scrubbed his hands down his face and sighed, missing the sound of fourteen vibrations in the living room. 

[Jax-in-the-Box] Cuddle the fuck out of him for me please?

The girls grinned at each other, sending off a confirmation. Finally, after retrieving snacks and drinks, Stiles-their fearless leader-returned.

He gazed around at his friends as they all chatted about the upcoming summer before senior year and the plans they had made as a group. He smiled, giving his opinion when they asked but mostly just listened. He didn’t care that he was the only guy. It didn’t matter to him. He felt fiercely loyal and protective over his girls. He loved each and every single one of them.

When he started to nod off later that night, he was shuffled into the center while all fourteen of his girls wrapped around him. It was family. It was love and it was home. There was only one thing–one person–missing.

He snapped a quick photo and sent it off to Jackson with a smile. 

[Bambi] #definition of family Hurry home babe!

[Jax] Save me a spot, Little Fawn. xx

[Bambi] No saving needed, Jax. There's always a place for you. x

[kingofangst]

Alright then, here is chapter 2 of TWOAE, and as tensions mount, the silent observer watches as the tension begins to cross.

(Also I am creating a tag-list. If there is anyone who wants updates on this story, let me know and I will add you in the tags.) @rhyslahey @thiamsxbitch @phantomraeken @hemlocksandfoxgloves @bendystrah @amatchinwater

***This is a much longer chapter than the first one. To let everyone know, the italic words after a dialogue of a character in the past events or when Seraph is eavesdropping are his thoughts, unless it is a cinematic retelling of canon events Seraph is present in. Just so that there will be no confusion. But ENJOY!!!*

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The Wings Of An Enigmatic

Chapter 2: A Disconcerting Sight

The final bell of school rang, and countless students flooded the hallways to go to their destinations. Seraph was one of them. He swiftly navigates his way through the crowd so he can get away from the sea of loud students and head to the exit.

Despite his neutrality and observance, there were a few exchanges of words that he had listened to. It was between Scott and Mieczyslaw during chemistry class. This is one of two classes that he shares with the two individuals. But while he was creating a formula for dry ice, his heightened hearing picked up their conversation earlier.

Flashback - Second Period, Chemistry Class

“Maybe it was my blood on the door.”

“Could have been animal blood. You know? Maybe you caught a rabbit or something.”

“And did what?”

“Ate it.”

“Raw?”

“No, you stopped to bake it in a little werewolf oven. I don’t know, you’re the one who can’t remember anything.”

Seraph internally sighs. Sometimes Mieczyslaw’s sarcasm doesn’t help, considering how Scott is trying to remember if he was the one who hurt Mr.Myers. Luckily for Scott, the enigmatic teen can concur that Scott did not hurt the poor man, but tried to help him out of his werewolf’s subconscious. Bless Seraph’s precognitive abilities. Although Seraph doesn’t understand why Stiles would assume Scott would eat a rabbit.

“Hey, I think I found something!” One of the students called out, heading to the window interrupting Mr. Harris’s lecture. Seraph, intrigued, went to the windows to follow the other students. Looking out the window is emt workers pulling a stretcher of a body. Mr. Myers.

Suddenly said man on the stretcher jolts up in a panic, scaring the students (minus Seraph himself) in the class. Just as the students slowly back away while still looking out the window, he felt Scott’s anxiety peak up.

“Okay, this is good. He’s alive. Dead guys can’t do that.”

“Stiles…I did that.”

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And in the cafeteria during lunch where Scott, Stiles, Allison, Lydia, Danny Mahealani, and Jackson Whittemore conversed.

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“So I hear they say it’s some kind of animal attack? Probably a cougar?” Danny’s voice muses out as Seraph heightened his hearing far from the group.

Yes…if only a werecougar was present during the attack but that wasn’t the case.

“I heard Mountain Lion.” Jackson replies.

Mountain Lions and Cougars are the same thing, insignificant scum.

“Cougars and Mountain Lions are the same thing.” Lydia responds. Yes, Lydia gets me here-

“Isn’t it?” Oh my god, this girl.

“Who cares? The guy’s probably some homeless tweaker who's going to die anyway.”

Of course you would think that Jackson because everyone in this school excluding yourself, Lydia, and Danny are homeless tweakers with that rich boy mentality. Why is Lydia with this degenerate?

“Actually I just found out who it is, check it out.” Stiles replies as he pulls out the cellphone to the group.

So have I, Stilinski. So have I.

“I-I know this guy,” Scott replies.

“You do?” “Yeah, when I used to take the bus, back when I was living with my dad. He was the driver.”

“Can we talk about something slightly more fun please?” Lydia huffs. At that point, Seraph tuned out the rest of the conversation.

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Present - Kingfisher Estate

“Are you sure that you were the one who hurt Mr.Myers, McCall?” Seraph ponders in his thoughts as he pulls his car up to the cobblestone driveway of his family’s Georgian estate. He turns off the ignition, takes his bag and exits the car. Earlier, Lydia had tried to find a date for Seraph to invite him to Lydia’s double date, but he flat out declined. Seraph’s ice king and enigmatic personality alone is not winning anybody’s attention.

He opens the red colored doors to the estate, going inside. Just as he locks the door, he hears someone coming down the stairs.

“Oh it’s just you.” A feminine voice flatly quips. Seraph glances at a very short girl who is 4ft '11 inches in height and with long brown hair dressed in a blouse and a black skirt with boots. His 14 year old sister, Celes Kingfisher.

“Obviously it’s me. Mom is at work still and dad is in Alaska for a board meeting. Who else were you expecting?” Seraph questions with a deadpan look.

"A boy named Mason." At Seraph’s raised eyebrows, Celes sighs. "Relax, Mason is into boys so don’t play protective brother mode."

“Inviting a regular Beacon Hills human into our estate is quite risky.”

“One, Mason is a very intelligent student with honors and has a knack for biochemistry and technology-”

“I am obviously aware he is from the affluent Hewitt family, Celes. I’m not dumb.”

Celes, the quaint fashionista girl, walks down the last part of the stairs before walking forward and plopping down on the chaise. Seraph drops his bag on the mahogany table, taking out his calculus assignment to get started on it.

“Always the serious homework doer I see.” Celes muses out as she takes out her phone to scroll through social media. Seraph gives her a confused look.

“Shouldn’t you be doing yours as well?”

“I already did my assignments, besides I am the only one with a 98 in my grade.” Celes remarks without looking up from her phone, while she relaxes and does her usual routine of looking through her feeds.

“I have 100s in 4 of my classes. I intend to keep it that way for the sake of getting into New York University in New York.” Seraph responds while he does his illustrations of formulas for the calculus problems.

“So how come your other two classes aren’t 100s then?”

“Because of Chemistry and Mr. Harris is an asshole, despite me being one of his so-called “favorite students”. But instead of getting a 100, I have a 96 for his class. His dislike for teaching is so evident. If that’s the case he should go back to the military to serve since that was his former occupation.” Seraph's curt reply makes Celes chuckle.

“And the other class?”

“Classical Literature. Apparently, Ms. Cavendish grades rather on performance than on writing details regarding life and death and usage of literary devices. I have a 99 in her class since I wrote a paper based on how love is a tragedy compared to how love is a beautiful feeling of passion. However I received an A- for that paper for the proper detailing and usage of citations from Romeo and Juliet.” Seraph finishes half of his calculus assignment before he looks at his sister.

“It’s kind of melancholic how you only know of the concept of love, yet you could only explain it theoretically, not on an emotional level.” Celes teases.

“Love is a tragedy. It makes people do crazy and reckless things. Like Romeo and Juliet, like Bella Swan with Edward Cullen in Twilight, like Katniss Everdeen with Peeta Mellark in the Hunger Games—”

“Twilight and the Hunger Games didn’t end in tragedy. Bella was happy marrying Edward and being with him for the rest of her life, while Katniss and Peeta had lived peacefully after Panem’s hegemonic dictatorship collapsed and the Hunger Games were permanently outlawed.” Celes interjects.

"My god you sound like Lydia when it comes to debates. Always eager to have a counter-argument on standby and shift the mood of the discussion.” Seraph snarks, getting up to head to the kitchen.

“Maybe you should start becoming Lydia’s partner in crime with education and history considering how the two of you have As in all of your classes.” Celes quips back.

“You are neurotic for thinking that. It’s a slim chance of ever happening considering me and Lydia’s convoluted mindsets.” Seraph grabs a glass before pouring water in it. He sips it as he listens to Celes’s discombobulated nonsense.

“It can be such a perfect duo between the two of you. Not romantic wise, no way as the two of you are very stark contrasts from each other-”

“Do not put me and her in the romantic context.” Seraph interrupts her while cringing, nearly choking on his water.

“As in a detective team duo is what I am proposing.” Celes states ignoring his disdain a few seconds ago.

“Like I mentioned before, me and her have convoluted mindsets. We would be bickering back and forth like hyenas in a desert range.” Seraph answers back. Celes just rolls her eyes at her older brother’s conservative viewpoint.

“Anyways, where is our grandmother? Because I do not sense her aura in the estate or hear her heartbeat.” Seraph asks while taking more sips of his water.

“She went grocery shopping with our butler. Apparently we are having grilled salmon topped with chopped grilled peppers, quinoa and asparagus as our dinner meal. For Dessert, they are buying key lime pie.” Celes replies, opening a can of soda.

“It was all nice and scrumptious until you mentioned asparagus. My contempt for that vegetable is very relevant. I do not understand why she still buys that." Seraph utters out, putting his finished glass in the sink.

“You just hate asparagus because it makes your urine-”

“Just don’t. Do not say it.” Seraph cuts her off vehemently. Celes tilts her head when she realizes Seraph’s now pensive gaze towards the mahogany cabinet. She ponders looking at her older brother while he thinks about— wait, he’s thinking about his encounter with a teenager named Isaac and how he is getting abused—

“Stop reading my mind, Celes. It’s troubling thoughts I should bear alone.” Seraph blurts out.

“Sorry but, you seem to be troubled by this Isaac person and finding out he is abused.” Celes responds.

“I can’t really help him. Who would believe an individual who can sense aura, read minds, smell blood and misery? Even if we involve mom, she will need a ton of concrete evidence to file a case against Isaac Lahey’s abuser. But with all of that, Isaac may not even allow that. The implication of it will only traumatize him as he believes there is something wrong with him thanks to the emotional and verbal abuser’s manipulation.” Seraph demonstrates. “An abusive narcissist finds ways to make it the victim’s fault and guilt trip them into believing it is their fault.”

“So what? We are just going to just let it continue while he gets abused by his dickwad of a caretaker?” Celes asks, hating the idea of someone innocent getting abused. It reminds her of a certain boy in her middle school whose father abused him and the mother until she divorced and left the deadbeat. But now because of how long that boy sustained abuse until 4th grade from reading that boy’s thoughts, he developed IED and has a hard time controlling his anger.

“Sadly, there is no choice. Plus us trying to help Isaac will expose us and our ties to the supernatural.” He concludes before going to the foyer for the stairs. “We do what we are best at doing. Staying neutral.”

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Garrison Meyes succumbed to his wounds that night. A tragedy befallen upon a man. Seraph knows something is definitely up as the Alpha wouldn’t just kill a school bus driver. There had to be a particular reason for him to be killed, or rather, succumbed to his critical wounds.

Seraph was asleep that night until his precognitive abilities showed him Derek Hale getting shot by a bullet filled with Blue Aconite Monkshood, from Kate Argent. The fact that the psychotic woman is back in town only states one thing. Reinforcements. When Seraph woke up at 6:15 in the morning, he realized the event had already happened, hearing the gunshots during his sleep at approximately 2am. Regardless of that, he took care of his hygiene before getting dressed in a white button down shirt, beige crew-neck sweater, black trousers and brown dress shoes. After getting his notebooks, folders and pens into his bag before draping it over his shoulder, he heads down to the kitchen table full of scrambled eggs, french toast, bacon, english muffins, variety selection of fruits, waffles, regular toast and scones, with spreads of jam, marmalade, clotted cheese and butter. He simply takes a slice of regular toast with grape jam before heading out.

“Be very careful today, Seraph. Another Argent is in town as you know.” His mother, Elizabeth stated. Her straight black hair is done neatly while she adds final touches of her eyeshadow over her tan skin in the mirror. Dressed in full attorney attire, she had her briefcase settled by the staircase in the foyer.

“I am well aware. Did Celes leave for school already?” Seraph asks after he finishes his toast.

“Yes. She went with Mason. Apparently they walked since the middle school is just 10 minutes from here.” His mom responds before she checks her phone. “By the way, your father is still in Anchorage and won’t be back until tomorrow evening. The CEO of the oil company in Alaska scheduled one final board meeting for the month.”

“And just as dad will be back, he will be swarmed with political duties in Beacon Hills Town Hall.” Seraph quips as he takes his keys. His mother chuckles at his dry wit.

“Well he is Beacon Hills’ top Council Member for a reason. He does alot of duties that require his help while he keeps watch of Beacon Hills through observing. Although, he is not happy with the arrival of the Argents.” Elizabeth explains.

“What supernatural would be thrilled about an influential multi-billionaire hunting family like the Argents being in Beacon Hills? Especially with their history and record?” Seraph questions, phrasing it as more of a statement. He kisses his mom’s cheek, saying his byes before he heads out into the driveway and enters his Honda Accord.

He gets to the school within 20 minutes before parking his car and getting ready to start his day. Once again, he is silently observing the environment, as well as watching the other students including Scott, Stiles, Allison and Lydia. School passes throughout the day almost uneventfully. Almost, until his last period which was study hall. It’s during this period when he senses an aura of pure pain and dread, with the scent of blood mixed with wolfsbane. He is alarmed as he remembers who was poisoned with a sizable dose of aconite.

DEREK HALE IS IN THE SCHOOL!? What is he doing here!?

Seraph calms down his thoughts as he uses his senses to lead him to wherever Derek is in the school. He is unable to comprehend why the Hale beta is in the school near the end of the last period of the day and why he is here when he can easily expose himself. As the senses of pain and dread grew stronger, so did the scent of aconite mixed with blood, and it made him nauseous. He turns to his left and he witnesses in the distance seeing a pale and very ill Derek confronted by none other than the egomaniac jock, Jackson.

“Steroids.” He hears Derek blurt out to Jackson which the blonde wasn’t buying.

“No girl scout cookies, what the hell do you think I am talking about?” Seraph hears Jackson sarcastically snap before continuing in smugness, “Oh and uh, by the way, whatever it is you’re selling, I’d probably stop sampling the merchandise. You looked wrecked.” Is Jackson assuming Derek gave Scott an enhancement or stimulant to be better in lacrosse? What an idiot. A smart but stupid idiot.

A moment of silence happens as Seraph watches Derek’s blood cascades from his knuckle, as one drop falls to the floor, unaware to the human jock. He can sense anger and pain leaking out of Derek.

“I’ll find him myself.” Derek declares quietly before leaving Jackson. But the captain of lacrosse remained undeterred as he clasped Derek’s shoulder. Seraph internally grumbles at that display of superiority.

Jackson you stupid, incomprehensible idiot-

“No, we’re not done here–!” Jackson’s words are instantly cut off when Derek pushes the former’s arm off his shoulder before pinning him to the lockers, and Derek’s claws sink deep into Jackson’s nape, earning a pained grunt from him. Seraph watches in slight shock as he sees Derek’s control slipping and harms a human. He is aware the werewolf is slowly dying from the poison but did he have to impale Jackson’s nape?

Then again, Jackson did deserve that. Derek stumbles away before Seraph witnesses Jackson grasp his nape in pain, and Seraph smells Jackson’s blood as well as the wolfsbane poison seeping into it.

Oh perfect, he’s going to suffer wolfsbane poisoning. He is not getting involved in that. This is an issue that doesn’t concern him. If Derek gets caught or ends up dying of the poison, then there goes the bloodline of the Hale family.

Seraph leaves the scene, as he heads to the parking lot for his car since the last period will be ending in 5 minutes. Just as he opens the passenger door to drop his back in is when he hears the bell ring inside and the numerous bodies of students exiting the school. Seraph gets in the driver seat, and starts the car. He pulls out of the parking lot and slowly drives as cars are in front of him exiting.

Then he feels it again. The aura of dread, pain combined with the smell of sweat, poisoned blood and this time a hint of death. He senses Derek outside again and this time, he is closeby. He abruptly stops as the car in front of him is completely still. Puzzled by the honking of horns, he unbuckles his seatbelt and exits his car. He gets a better view of what is happening and to his shock and irritation, there is Derek Hale, alive but on the pavement in front of Stiles' rustic Jeep. A disconcerting sight.

Oh my God…unreal. This is a disaster. I hope to God he does not expose himself to the humans around this school. Seraph’s thoughts were nothing but tense thoughts. As much as he feels bad for the adult werewolf, he cannot get involved in this without making himself known and who knows if there is a spy from the Argent family reporting to Chris Argent and Victoria Argent around here observing. He sees a nervous Scott and a frustrated Stiles huddled around a weakened Derek. He sees their lips moving so he sharpens his hearing.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asked Derek anxiously.

“I was shot.” Derek pants out, barely sitting on the pavement.

“He’s not looking so good, dudes.” Stiles observed slowly.

NO, really Mieczysław? How did you figure that out?

“Why aren’t you healing?” Seraph hears Scott asked frantically.

“I can’t.” Derek said, breathing heavily, “It w- It was a different kind of bullet.”

“A silver bullet?” Stiles asked, surprised.

“No you idiot.”

Well technically silver bullets are useful against werewolves and werecoyotes, but not more potent compared to wolfsbane. The Argents certainly have some deadly weapons up their sleeves if they have Blue Monkshood infused bullets.

“Wait, Wait…” Scott cuts in, the aura of shock being felt. “That’s what she meant when she said you had 48 hours.”

“What?” Derek asks.

“The one who shot you.” Scott responds back. Wait, Scott was present when Kate shot Derek? Dannazione!

Suddenly, he heard the gasps and felt the flinching shifts of Derek’s human and werewolf forms. Seraph saw Derek’s eyes flicker between his regular ones and ice blue ones as he struggles to control it, shocking the enigmatic afar. Oh no this is going to be a catastrophe.

“What are you doing!? Stop that!” He hears Scott scold worriedly at Derek. At least Scott, despite his new transformation as a werewolf, is aware that they shouldn’t be out here and Derek shouldn’t be out in public as the poison makes Hale struggle with his control to shift.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell y-you, I can’t!” He sees the werewolf struggling to get up despite Scott’s urgence to get him up.

“Help me put him in the car!” Scott urges Stiles as they lift the heavy werewolf to the latter’s Jeep. The honking of car horns and curses of students are starting to annoy Seraph. He feels a presence, and glances slightly seeing Allison pass by him to see what is going on.

“I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used.” He hears Derek breathe out to Scott. Aconite Blue Monkshood, a rare form of wolfsbane, and the deadliest.

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“She’s an Argent…she’s with them.” Derek implies lowly. Seraph tilts his head while he stares at the Jeep from the werewolves reply.

“Why the hell should I help you?” He hears Scott question frustratingly. I feel sorry for Scott, his transformation to becoming a werewolf is forcing him between the rift of the Hale and Argent war. A war between werewolves and hunters. A war…Scott doesn’t deserve to suffer in.

“Because you need me.” He catches Derek’s words mixed with his panting. Scott needs you, Derek? Or do you need him?

The car honks intensify along with students being much more aggravated now with the traffic congestion Stiles’ Jeep is causing, not that it’s the Sheriff’s son's fault.

“Fine, I’ll try.” He hears Scott reluctantly reply. “Stiles, get him out of here.”

“I hate you for this—so much.” Stiles grumbles as the Jeep takes off. Seraph changes back to his normal hearing as he watches the blue Jeep leave the vicinity. Before Scott could look in his direction, Seraph turned around heading back to his car. His sight deadpans when he sees a very familiar silver Porsche 911 behind his car, with Lydia inside of the Porsche. Jackson, who was out of his car just like Seraph was, sported a glare casted at him.

“Can you move your freaking piece of shit car so I can get the hell out of here, Sherlock Holmes?” Jackson snarls. Seraph remembered Jackson’s confrontation with Derek and with that new injury in the back of his neck, he appeared more like a cantankerous man that hasn’t gotten laid in 50 years.

“First off Whittemore, my Honda Accord is 3 months old with top notch durability, top quality auto parts, state of the art technology and is a terrain-resistant vehicle. I’ve been test driving it before my 16th birthday. Secondly, do not take your indignant and uncouth anger out on me just because your ego is broken thanks to someone else taking your spotlight in lacrosse.” Seraph rebukes him, staring him down.

“I would like to get back to my place instead of being in this shitty lot.” Jackson snarks back. Seraph shoots him a wry grin.

“Then you should have reversed and went around my own vehicle to leave then. What, you don’t want to ruin your precious, lavish car that was spent with daddy’s and mommy’s money? Spare me the theatrics.”

Jackson’s face turned red, like the color of a fire engine. He grinded his teeth before gazing at Seraph. “You’ve got some nerve, Kingfisher. Like you aren’t from the same rich background like me.”

Seraph chuckles sardonically. “Oh Whittemore, me and you are in two different echelons of Upper Class. You are lavishly rich since you were adopted by David Whittemore and Annalisa Whittemore. Your adoptive father created and manufactured his wealth while your adoptive mother came from money that she no longer has access to. Me, on the other hand, I was born into it. My family has been exceedingly wealthy for approximately 90 years. Henceforth my family has been a part of Beacon Hills’ high society for almost a century. I could easily buy 50 of those Porsche 911s and still be rich.” Seraph elucidates off of his family’s wealth, souring Jackson’s mood and breaking his ego. “Moreover, I am vieux-riche.”

Seraph sees Jackson clench and unclench his fists while his torso was shaking with anger and his jaw were contracted, edifying his repressed rage.

“Fuck you, tool.” Jackson hisses. Seraph bows with a humorless smile.

“The pleasure is mine. Now let me go back in my car and drive away peacefully so you can go back to your abode for your pornographic desires.” The irreverence of the enigmatic’s words startles Jackson that he chokes on his breath from the vulgar insinuation. The flabbergasted expression on the lacrosse captain’s face seen from the rearview mirror made Seraph grin before he closed his car door and drove off, not caring what or how he felt about Jackson.

Now all that matters is getting home and staying neutral. Part of him hopes Scott, Derek and Stiles are okay, while the other half of him remains negligent of their situation.

Truly he is an enigmatic structure of nerves to work with.

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

So...what do you guys think of this canon au? Who is the enigma that is Seraph and just how will he interact with the others?

To let everyone know, much of season 1 and season 2 will be skimmed by partially due to Seraph being observant and a shadowy figure. However he will be having interactions of the canon characters soon. (Him and Stiles will be having sarcasm matches after sarcasm)

[wulfnerd]

Home Away from Home, sterek, g, 100w ◌ Derek and the visiting exchanging student have grown closer. [ao3] Companion to: Welcome Home @sterekdrabbles for 14 Dec (child, command, bustle)

Derek’s barely turned off his alarm, and already he hears the bustle of Stiles getting ready for school. Derek smiles and rises to join him. 

Stiles’ command of English is already better than most of their year, but he still loves talking to practice. Derek loves listening to him, so it works. 

Especially since the teasing has mostly stopped. Except for mom. She treats them like children, cooing whenever they’re together. 

But it has had one benefit. She’s helping bring Stiles’ dad from Poland for the holidays. Which is good. Derek has a gift he can only give in person. 

[luucypevensie]

🐰 + Emily McCall??

OMG, ANOTHER FLASHBACK!! THANK YOU FAE FOR BRINGING BACK ONE OF MY ORIGINAL BBS (who I forgot that I rebooted awhile ago)!

1. Their berserk button: Seeing her little brother get bullied; Scott is the best person she knows, and to see him be treated like he’s the bottom of the food chain makes her furious (Emily’s just thankful that he has Stiles as his best friend)

2. Why their name was chosen: Melissa thought the name sounded lovely, and that it paired well with Scott. She also liked how Emily means “laborious”, as she wants her children to understand the benefits of hard work

3. Their favorite 2020s song: Paris by Taylor Swift

4. Their biggest fear: Anything happening to Scott (it’s her big sister instinct to protect her little brother)

5. One turn-on of theirs: Consent is *sexy* to Emily (especially after everything that happened to Derek)

6. Their go-to sleepover activities: Emily LOVES America’s Next Top Model; when she was in Paris for a fashion exchange program, she and some of the other students got together to watch some of the older cycles. During the watching, they would also act as if they were on the show as contestants and one would be Tyra Banks (there would also be a lot of macaroons involved)

7. What candle they’d get at Bath & Body Works: White Gardenia (gardenia petals, sweet apple, white tuberose)

8. A moment where they reached their breaking point: When Emily found out that not only was Derek a werewolf, but her little brother was one too, she just froze. Mind was blank, life was gone behind her eyes, pale face, the works. The whole experience was blanked out of her mind because she was so upset

9. Whether they’re organized or slobby: Emily’s totally organized, like SCARILY organized

10. Their favorite feature about themselves: Her eyes

[zsphoenix]

It's been forever and 1 times since I last wrote fanfiction. Here is a little bit of a come back. Hopefully I can make this in 3 parts.

Sterek, university professor/student Au!

Part one

-

The first time that they saw each other, they were crossing a bridge going on opposite ways. Their eyes met, they recognized each other; Derek waved his hand while talking to a colleague that walked along beside him, Stiles smiled and said "Hey, professor!".

That was the first time they saw each other in person, though. They met a year and a half before, during class.

It was 2020, Stiles was starting his second year as a Master student. He had chosen professor Hale's class because he was interested in folklore and magic, and the professor specialized in urban myths.

Due to the pandemic, all classes were online, so Stiles was following more lectures than recommended -but oh, how he was happy to do so! So much content! Knowledge for ages!

He opened the zoom app and prepared for the class. Slowly but surely he and his colleagues started to be accepted into the conference room, where the professor's camera was turned to the side and Stiles could only see half his arm, with sound off. As soon as everyone was connected, prof. Hale appeared on screen, turned on the audio and smiled.

Stiles' brain stopped working.

He blinked a couple of times, watching one of the most gorgeous people he's ever seen -including Lydia AND Jackson- speak about the semester ahead. Those green eyes were hypnotic, and better yet, he could listen to the man speak forever -he had such a nice voice... but quick enough he got his head back into the game and started taking notes about the class. He was considering asking professor Hale to be his Thesis Advisor, therefore he had to do his best and Be Present in class. And maybe impress him a little on the way wouldn't hurt.

-

The semester passed fast, but time seemed to stop during Magic and Floklore classes. Stiles got the attention of professor Hale, as he wanted, by making controversial remarks that made the professor reflect and exchange ideas with the students. After the fourth class, professor Hale started to invite Stiles to reflect upon the lecture's topic of the day, and they often exchanged smiles. Once or twice they even joked around in front of the other students, for prof.Hale's late mortification.

-

Derek liked Mr. Stilinski.

He liked how he held himself -very confident even when his point of view was a questionable one, and he was amenable to discussing different perspectives. It was important for someone that studied mythology to have an open mind.

He enjoyed their exchanges in class, mostly because so many students were quiet and teaching through zoom was depressing. He missed being in the classroom, full of new blood.

It didn't hurt that Mr. Stilinski was handsome to top off his brain. He had luminous eyes and a mouth that had been plaguing Derek's dreams for almost a month. His salvation was near, though, because soon exams would come and go -hopefully Stiles would take them on the first round- and then he wouldn't have to worry or avoid (very, very hard) fantasizing about him.

-

As predicted, exams happened.

Stiles studied a lot. He was confident that while professor Hale liked him, he wouldn't make it any easier for him.

And he was right.

Professor Hale gave him a 9.5/10. Probably because Stiles didn't mention the article professor Hale had written.

Oh well, it's not a bad grade! Now all Stiles has to do is prepare his research topic for next month.

-

"Hello, Mr. Stilinski, tell me everything", Derek said to the student on the other side of the zoom call. The young man gave him a small smile and moved on his chair.

"So, I was wondering what do you think of rural legends and their influence in urban myths as a research topic. Is it feasible?"

Derek touched his beard, thinking.

"Well it depend on which legends you want to use. You'd have to chose samples in order to be able to compare them, the way you speak about it is a bit broad".

Stiles kept moving in his chair, side to side, biting his lips. He nodded.

"Cool, I'll find a few samples".

They stared at each other for a moment. Derek had a suspicion of why this was coming up.

"Is that all?" Is not that Derek wanted to be rude. He just likes to be direct. Besides, those lips were A Problem for him. At the hair? It looks like someone passed their fingers through them and tugged. Did Mr. Stilinski got out of bed directly to the call?

"Eeh, I was wondering if you'd like to be my thesis advisor?"

There it is.

Fuck.

Think, Hale, think!

Derek breathed deeply.

"I could be, if you think your topic will be this one". He shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant. He wouldn't abandon a student just because he wanted to taste his lips, fingers on his hair.

"Yes, I'm sure. I have been handling legends in urban areas all my life, coming from Beacon Hills and-"

Beacon Hills? What a coincidence....

He must never know.

[obriengf]

Empatheia ✽ Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Summary: Scott begins to learn the ups and downs of being a werewolf, whilst Stiles helps Y/N figure out what she really is. Words: 10.8k Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence and injury, mentions of dead body ✽  Series masterlist  ✽

Chapter Two: 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐀𝐭 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞 /Part 1

The past week was one of absolute discontent; everything that you thought you knew was being challenged, and the headache it had brought was showing no signs of leaving ever since it struck in the early hours of last Saturday morning. You were finding great difficulty in accepting that your mind had become fractured and impulsive, that supernatural creatures weren’t one of fiction, and that Stiles Stilinski had somehow slipped himself back into your life as if nothing had happened. You thought back a week ago when you desired something more from your life, a change in yourself. It was only ironic that this mismatched incongruous chain of events gave you everything you wanted, in its own twisted way, with the addition of two zany boys adopting you so easily as one of their own. Ever since that night in the Preserve, they didn’t leave your side, and it was made very clear early on that they weren’t planning on doing so. You were in this together now, like a secret club, a union bound by surreptitiousness and somewhat of a common ground. You were starting to find friendship in the last place you’d look, and it was honestly gratifying. But the good had to stop somewhere, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something bigger was about to get in your way, warnings of inevitable danger sounding in your sleep and twisting your gut; you had never felt so on edge.

You stood by your locker, books exchanging between the small metal shelves and your bag to prepare you for whatever study you had tonight. The school day had dwindled to an end, and luckily you hadn’t come across anything to spur your emotions or to trigger Scott’s McCall’s newly profound abilities. You hoped the excitement was over for now, until you looked down the hall, Scott’s face pale and bewildered, as if he had the oxygen knocked straight out of him. He was walking slowly, a stumble ever so often, and you could tell by his far-off gaze and agape mouth that something was definitely wrong. Your locker slammed and you moved toward him, meeting the boy halfway before slightly ducking to match the height of his hung head.

“Scott, what happened? You look like you just witnessed a murder.” You questioned, positioning yourself until you caught his soft brown eyes. He didn’t answer, so you assumed the worst, your voice expelling in a shouted whisper, “Please tell me there isn’t another dead body.”

Scott shook his head in denial, shifting his position as he swung his bag over his other shoulder.  He sighed, a hand rubbing down his face, “Just when I thought this werewolf thing couldn’t get any harder.” He suddenly lent back, groaning in distraught, and you tried to ignore the other students as they watched on. You smiled, trying to wave them off, and the little embarrassment that fell over your features. Scott peered to you as he ignored his peers, “We need to find Stiles.”

You followed him through the school, dodging crowds as they rushed past you both to get home. You could see the furrowing of his brows as something heavy weighed on his mind, and the way his fingers were nervously readjusting their grasp on his bag strap as it chaffed his shoulder. It didn’t take long before you were led into the boy’s locker room – the players beginning to gather for after school practise. Your eyes glanced around the space as you took in the confused expressions and squinting glares, an irritated scoff pushing past your lips, “What? Never seen a girl before?”

Your annoyed tone was enough to force them to look away, any questions or protests that sat idly on their tongues now vanishing as they proceeded to mind their own business. After all, they were dressed, just simply waiting for Coach to fumble through those doors and set up a definite boot-camp of an afternoon for them all. You were leaning back against the locker beside Scott’s as he placed his bag inside, his movements slow as if he were in a trance, still hung up about whatever had shocked him before you saw him earlier. You couldn’t help but feel pitiful.

As if on cue, Stiles’ head popped around the corner, his eyes wide and childlike in curiosity of Scott’s earlier endeavour to apologise to Allison for Friday night. Queries were ready to sprout until his focus landed on you, lashes blinking rapidly to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. His head fell to the side, “You do know this is the boy’s locker room, right?”

You produced a small smile, the sarcasm that he usually wore well now present within your own tone, “Really? I hadn’t noticed.” You could see his lips twitch up in the corners, the Stilinski boy always front and centre for a good banter and battle of the sarcastic wits. But instead of playing into it, you sighed, your hand briefly patting at Scott’s shoulder after he turned around and lent back against the cool metal, “Something’s spooked Scott.”

Stiles pursed his lips, “Uh huh. So, you apologise to Allison, buddy?” He first asked, wondering if rejection was the reason behind his startled behaviour.

Scott nodded, “Yeah.”

“Is she giving you a second chance?”  You pried further, sharing a small glance with Stiles over Scott’s ambiguity.

The boy nodded, again, “Yeah.”

Stiles found himself perplexed, his arms crossed as he stood against the frame of the lockers across from you, “So, everything’s good then?”

“No.”

You were getting closer to the issue, prompting your body to turn more toward the saddened boy, “What do you mean no? What else happened?”

“Remember those hunters?” Scott spoke, flicking his eyes between you and Stiles, their colour drained of their usual vibrancy. He was definitely shaken. You both nodded your heads to his question, Scott drawing in a sharp breath, “Her dad’s one of ‘em.”

As you fell silent, Stiles’ jaw fell ajar, stunned at the new information, “Her dad –? “ He interrupted, but the other boy continued to talk over him, your eyes rolling at how dysfunctional their interjecting was becoming.

“ - He shot me!” Scott’s hands surrounded his face, words muffling as he groaned against his palms.

Stiles started muttering under his breath, repeating the facts until he began to process them efficiently, “Allison’s father… hunter – “

Scott groaned louder, “ – and with a crossbow!”

Whilst one was devastated, the other was flabbergasted, and you wondered how they managed to get on in daily life if this is what they reverted to when they ran into a problem. You took a step and a half until you were directly in front of Scott, one hand grasping his shoulder as the other pried away his hands. You huffed, managing a small slap to his cheek, “Snap out of it, Scott.” When his eyes caught you, you couldn’t help but frown. He looked like a wounded puppy. You bit your bottom lip as you thought, “Okay… okay, did he recognise you?”

Scott shook his head, “N-no, I don’t think so.”

Stiles came up behind you, clicking his tongue as his chin poked in over your shoulder, “What about Allison? Does she know?”

It was as if realisation struck him hard as Scott’s eyes blew wide open, panic setting in as his breaths became shallow, “Oh, yeah… I don’t know! What if she does? This is gonna kill me, guys – “

You could hear the door to Coach’s office open, your focus blinking over your unoccupied shoulder as you watched him enter the opposite side of the room. You hummed as a temporary solution made itself present, “Alright, this is what you’re going to do. Stop thinking about it and focus on Lacrosse.”

Stiles spurred a noise of agreement, quick to reach behind his friend as he gathered the forgotten Lacrosse gear before shoving it against Scott’s chest, “She’s right. Take this and focus on Lacrosse. That’s all you have to do, buddy. One thing at a time.” Scott inhales deeply as his eyes closed, an attempt to regulate his heart rate, before nodding his head reluctantly. Stiles smiled, “Good, okay. Here we go!”

Your bodies were swarmed by the team as they came from all directions, their destination heading out into the hallway before trekking to the Lacrosse field. You felt Stiles move from behind you as he guided Scott the same way and you immediately followed, only to be stopped by a bellowing voice that you were sure couldn’t speak below a yelling tone, “Y/L/N, what are you doing in here?”

You widened your eyes as you turned, faced with the questioning expression of Coach Finstock. It was absent-minded when you shrugged your shoulders, your lips releasing a strained chuckle, “Are you telling me this isn’t the girl’s locker room? You know, it all looks the same.”

Disbelief is something that Coach wears well, and you could tell that you had hardly convinced the man before the managed a low blow of his whistle, the object falling back to his chest as it hung from his lanyard. You cringed at the piercing sound, and his finger pointed directly toward where Scott and Stiles were waiting for you beyond the door, “Out, now!”

You obliged, rather quickly, as you left for the corridor. Ignoring the snickers from the two boys on the other side as you wandered together to the outside space.

It was impossible to stop the look of disgust that played on your facial features as you watched Jackson claim all the commendations and glory from Coach. You didn’t find his cockiness appealing, of course, nor his gameplay which mostly featured injuring others to get a leg up in the game. But all you could hear as you stood on the sidelines was Coach Finstock sing his praises, and you had never rolled your eyes so hard in your life. You regained focus as Scott was called to take his turn next, eyes watching him carefully as his mind was still in a far-off place. Not that you could blame him – he possessed characteristics that he yet could control, and the girl he had heart eyes for was the spawn of the man that wants to have his head. Scott had it bad, and the most you could do was continue looking out for him.

You knew he could hear you, waiting until he was centered enough to catch your voice, “Scott, you gotta snap out of it. Remember to breathe.” You whispered, your hand covering your mouth slightly from potential onlookers. You watched as the boy turned slightly to face you, your communication successful, holding your thumb high as a gesture of luck. You wished you could do more to settle his poor nerves, but as he showed a nod of acknowledgement, you couldn’t resist the small smile that tugged between your cheeks.

His name was called on once more as Scott leapt forward, catching the ball from Coach in his lacrosse stick. He goes for the shot at the goal, but was suddenly intercepted by Jackson, his own stick smacking at Scott’s arm in a volley of slap checks between his elbow guard and glove. The ball falls from his possession as Scott bends at his torso, wincing at the pain radiating from his arm. You stood there shocked at the unfair play, your eyes immediately glaring in Jackson’s direction as he ducked down to your friend’s level, sneering something unmotivating in his ear.

The jock walked away with deep laughter, his tone mocking before the other players joined in. It wasn’t until Scott lifted his head that you started to feel fire burn at your fingertips, travelling quickly up your arms and exploding in your chest as a fit of pure fury. Golden orbs shone through his helmet and immediately locked with your worried gaze. He was angry, and he was shifting. You gulped down and whispered, “Breathe. Don’t do this, not now. He’s not worth it, Scott.”

You were sure that the glow was fading, and you were glad that nobody else picked up the odd feature, but then Coach opened his mouth, and all progress was lost. “M-my grandmother can move faster than that. And she's dead. You think you can move faster than the lifeless corpse of my dead grandmother?” He bellowed, provoking Scott’s hands to curl in his gloves.

He tried to choke out an answer instead of the growl gathering in his throat, “Yes, coach.”

But Finstock just continued to press him, “Sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you!”

“Yes, Coach!” Scott’s voice grew and you could tell that it was strained, choking on his anger, but controlled for now.

“Then do it again!” Coach stood back with his arms crossed, a vexatious laugh sounding as Scott jogged back into position. He was breathing heavily as the stick twirled in his hands and it brought a worried frown to shape Stiles’ lips. You were looking toward the two boys, pointing to your eyes and mouthing the word when Stiles peered back over to you, his worry only increasing about how Scott was going to handle himself. Nothing good was going to come from this if Scott couldn’t find control.

The whistle blew and Scott bolted forward, his speed unmatchable as Jackson stood ready with a smirk. The jock’s smile fell, however, when he caught on to Scott’s fast pace and how he wasn’t planning on stopping. What happened next was completely unexpected; Scott landed against Jackson, his shoulder plummeting into the other boy’s collarbone as they both flew to the ground. The cry that ripped from Jackson’s throat was one that harnessed pain, his tone screeching, and it caused your hand to fly to your own shoulder as you grasped at the sudden sting that radiated down your arm. You bit your tongue, chewing on your cheeks, anything to stop a cry of your own from pushing through. If you really could feel the pain of others, then Jackson was currently going through hell.

You easily shook it off as you looked up to see Stiles’ anxious gaze, your feet instantly dragging you across the field with your bag in tow. Everyone was gathered around Jackson, but you bee-lined straight for Scott as he hunched over. You grabbed at his helmet, trying to take it off but his gloved hand pushed you away. You frowned until you realised that his eyes were still glowing and that his teeth had protruded through fangs.

Scott groaned, “What about Jackson…?”

“I think his shoulder popped out, or it’s sprained… whatever it is, it feels like shit.” You muttered as you swung Scott’s arm over your own shoulders, catching Stiles’ curious expression from over the other boy’s hunched form.

“You felt that?” He asked you, intrigued at the thought, but it quickly shifted to concern when you nodded with a soft wince.

Scott began to struggle under your joint hold, and he groaned once more, heavily panting toward the ground as you and Stiles carried him toward the school, “It’s happening, guys, I can’t control it. It’s happening – “

Stiles hiked him up before looking around, glad to see a clear path, “Seriously, right now? Okay, okay, we’re nearly inside. Come on.”

It felt like forever before you all stumbled through the doors of the locker room, quickly securing them behind you before you and Stiles let Scott go. His fingers tangled in the metal caging of his helmet, tugging in anguish. You both guided him toward the sinks where he fell to his knees. You could tell that he was getting worse, your thought solidified by his deepened growl and frustrated sighs that pushed out with his erratic breathing. It made your chest thump harshly against the caging of your chest. You reached out in response to his angst, but Scott flinched away once more.

“Scott, you okay?” Stiles queried, kneeling in front of his friend, but the shifting werewolf shook his head roughly. He was getting overwhelmed, and you could sense the anxiety diverging from his trembling frame. Stiles made a move to place his hand on the boy’s shoulder, but Scott’s head ripped back, and a scream of torment ripped forcefully from his lungs as his eyes were completely inundated by a radiant amber glow.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” He roared; his gloves hastily thrown to the ground to show off his gnarly sharpened claws. The force from his voice caused Stiles to fall behind himself, his body crawling in shock backward until your hands scooped under his arms to pull him into a standing position. You both ran behind a shield of lockers, your backs pressed against the metal as you tried to catch your winded breath. You were met with eerie silence until the lockers shook, reverberating against your spines and Scott’s half-shifted form peering down to you from atop of them.

You heard Stiles gulp as fingers curled around your wrist, his voice whispering under bated breath, “Don’t look up.” You nodded as Scott’s nostrils flared, growling lowly, becoming more animalistic the further his transformation got along. He was trapping you as he was preparing to pounce, treating you and Stiles as if you were his prey and the predator inside him took all the control.

You felt the lockers shift, and Scott was ready to move, provoking Stiles to quickly push you to the side as he jumped toward the other. Scott snarled in response to you actions when you and Stiles briefly parted ways to round opposite sides of the locker room. You couldn’t help but watch the young wolf’s every move as he moved with agility over the air vents before crawling back along the top of another set of lockers. Hunger only made his eyes shine brighter and his brows furrow deeper – Scott McCall was going to kill you both, and you didn’t know how to stop him. You and Stiles managed to make it back to the entrance as your feet tripped over themselves, your body heaved roughly against the door. It felt like a bad horror movie and death could be quite literally around the corner, but your new position on the floor caused your eyes to focus on a vibrant object beside you.

You gasped, catching Stiles’ attention as he neared you, your hand thrown in the direction of your solution, “Stiles, the fire extinguisher! Quick!”

He flailed desperately as he spun around, launching for the device. His fingers were trembling, and he was panting rather excessively, alas he detached the hose and flicked the trigger, just as Scott jumped down to the floor. Stiles planted his feet plumes of white spurted from the extinguisher, making Scott cover his face in an annoyed response to shield himself. Stiles was too focused to hear you creep up behind him, a small scream leaving his lips as you grabbed at his shoulder and tugged his frame toward the door, a loud clang echoing off each surface as the extinguisher dropped to the concrete floor. You two found yourself pressing your backs against a heavy structure once again, quick breaths and thumping hearts trying to settle down from the exhilaration. You closed your eyes as your head lent back, glad that you both were in one piece. You could tell that Stiles was terrified the moment he reached for your hand; his fingers confident as they laced with yours, his hold tight filled with relief.

It was hard to tell what was going to happen next. You both stood in anticipation – Scott was either going to still be his wolfy self, or your plan was enough to shock him back to humanity. Either way, a few minutes of silence had passed, and you couldn’t hear a single sound coming from the room behind you. It wasn’t until a gentle peep, a dazed and quiet voice sounding toward you, that you both made the move to peer back cautiously into the locker room.

Scott sat on the bench now with his helmet on the floor, his face in his hands, and sweat dripping from every pore on his face. He looked as if he ran a twenty-mile marathon, and then lost out first price. Stiles entered first, immensely guarded as he moved gingerly toward his friend, your hands dropping as he crouched down to capture Scott’s saddened brown eyes.

“W-what happened?” Scott asked weakly, the uncertainty scaring him as he pulled back, his hands now white from the extinguisher before his eyes trailed to the mess cascaded across the floor.

Stiles couldn’t refrain from frowning, teeth gritting before he stood back up and joined you by your side. He was mad, and although Scott couldn’t help what was happening to him, Stiles still found that miniscule reason for resentment. “You – “ He began, his hand now gesturing between the two of you, “ – tried to kill us!”

Scott immediately grew guilty, his eyes shying away shamefully as he swallowed back. You knew that he didn’t want to hurt anybody, he never wanted to hurt anybody. It was your turn to crouch before him, your hands sitting on his knees as you looked at him with the utmost seriousness, “Like we told you before… it’s the anger, it’s your pulse rising. That’s the trigger.”

He expelled an exhausted laugh, anything but humour in his voice, “But that's lacrosse. It's a pretty violent game, if you hadn't noticed.”

Stiles moved a step or two forward, his knees now beside your shoulder line. You could hear the tittering as he clicked his tongue before his voice became firm, “Well, it's going to be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field.” His body inclined toward the floor, joining you in a squatted position, “You can't play Saturday. You're gonna have to get out of the game.”

“But I’m first line – “ Scott moaned, immediately trying to protest, before you cut him off.

“Not anymore.”

You sat crossed legged on your bed; miscellaneous papers scattered before you, a couple of books once again borrowed from the school library open to random pages with an array of coloured sticky notes protruding from them. It reminded you of this time a week ago when you were trying to figure out what Scott was, and now you were doing it for yourself, especially after you so intensely experienced Jackson’s separated shoulder, instead of just observing it like everybody else. Not that you were getting too far – you didn’t even know where to properly start, your characteristics close to, but not quite, matching various creatures and occults that you’d come across. You were feeling at a loss, and it made you fall back against your pillows, and you groaned with frustration into your palms.

A knock at your door a few moments later made you launch into an upright position, quickly gathering the research so that Valerie didn’t see just what you were looking at. Not that you necessarily needed to worry; it was only just print outs of mythology and folklore after all, not porn. But there was just something that prodded at the guilt deep inside, the sadness and confusion you felt, that you didn’t want her finding out about. The knock sounded again, and you called out to it, “Hi, yeah, come in!”

She was careful in opening the door, not sure on what she’d be facing as she never usually has to knock twice. A smile of relief fell over her lips, however, when she saw you curled up with a textbook, and she couldn’t hold back her happy tone, “Okay, so, just wanted to remind you that you might have to get takeout or something tonight seeming that my date should be here in… seven minutes. Hopefully.”

Your eyes widened as you were reminded, quick to overlook her fitted red dress and black heels, a matching black leather jacket warming her arms. You made a noise of approval at your aunt, your head nodding and it made her smile even wider, if possible, “You look amazing, seriously, Val. Will absolutely knock them dead.”

She puttered toward you, one hand on your shoulder as the other sat over your knee. She used the leverage to lean in and press a gentle kiss to the top of your head. You closed your eyes and took in a breath, an overwhelming feeling of love swelling in your heart. It was instant the second she had laid a finger on you, making you believe that it was an emotion stemming from your aunt as she appreciated the holes that you filled in her life. The warmth slowly disappeared the further she pulled away, and you could feel a single tear sitting in the corner of your eye. It was one of gratefulness, but you didn’t conjure it purposefully.

Valerie’s smile dropped for a brief moment as she noticed it, and you were quick to wipe it away and offer her a brightened beam, “It’s nothing, must just be the lighting or whatever. I’m fine, promise.”

She nodded as her lips pursed, knotting in contemplation, “Are you sure you’ve been feeling alright lately? Any nightmares as of late? Sleepwalking?”

You were shocked to have these questions thrown at you again, making you wonder if she somewhat knows just what is written on those pages shoved under your bed, or the strange things typed in your google search history. This is the second she time had asked you since that night in the Preserve, and all you could muster was a continued smile and end to the conversation, “You don’t need to keep asking me, I’m okay. I promise.”

Her eyes said that she didn’t believe you, but a loud tune and flashing image on your laptop managed to stop her from saying anything more. You both looked over to your desk where a photo of Stiles was present, an invitation to a video chat lighting up that corner of your room. It was in time with a knock at the front door and you had never felt more relieved to get Valerie out of your bedroom before.  

She hummed, “Thought you weren’t friends with Stiles anymore?” The question was accompanied by a raised eyebrow and smirk that pulled at her painted red lips.

You scoffed, only to smile back at her, “We don’t want you to keep your date waiting, Val. You better get going.”

She rolled her eyes, but agreed as she moved toward the hall, turning around as you jumped form your bed and over to your laptop. She spoke softly, “You know, if anything’s going on… you can talk to me. I’ll always be there for you, sweetheart.”

The mouse hovered over the accept button before you turned around, nodding in response, “Have a great night. Kick ass.”

You didn’t expect to see Stiles spin around in his chair as a nerf gun was pointed at the camera, your face popping up on the screen only a mere second before Scott’s. He was chuckling and you absentmindedly turned to look out your bedroom window as you could see him place it in his lap. All that you could think was that he was an idiot, but your lips still rose very mildly into a smile. The other boy, however, didn’t look impressed. His face was wretched with tiredness, his body hunched over, and the illumination from the screen didn’t help the darkened bags under his eyes.

Scott huffed, wanting to get straight to the point, “What’d you find out?”

A cringe crawled across Stiles’ face, his eyes squinting, eyebrows folding in, “It’s bad. Jackson’s got a separated shoulder.”

“What, are you serious? Because of me?”

You sneered, refuting Scott’s blame on himself, “No, because he’s a fucking tool.”

It was unfortunate to be so used to Scott dropping his face into his hands, and as he did, you pouted at the sight. He sighed out in dismay, “But is he gonna play?”

Stiles shook his head with sympathy, a pitying look crossing his face, “Well, they don't know yet. Now, they're just counting on you for Saturday.”

Scott becomes evidently conflicted, weighing up the pros and cons of playing versus if he doesn’t. The McCall boy didn’t want to let anyone down – his mother was excited to see him play, he managed to score a position in first line, and he wanted to impress Allison more than anyone. On the other hand, his anger was out of control – he had the capability to seriously hurt someone, and if he wolfed out on the field then he would expose werewolves to half the town. He was stuck, and either route he took would end in misery.

You squinted your eyes at a sudden shadow in Scott’s room, bringing your head closer to the screen as if you would be able to see better. You couldn’t make out what it was, but Stiles had the same idea as he too attempted to get a clearer look.

Scott frowned, “What? What are you guys looking at?”

It didn’t take long for the shadow to form a recognisable shape, one of a human structure, and it was standing right behind Scott. Your eyes widened in intense alarm, trying to warn Scott, but as you spoke, the screen started to become glitchy. Both boys’ feeds were fractured, so you had the idea of posting a message through the chat box instead – TURN AROUND. But even the message was taking a while to send, the buffering getting worse.

You groaned, your balled fists hitting the tabletop. You ran to your window, a loud squeak sounding as you slid the pane upward. It was as if you two shared a mind when Stiles did the same thing, the shock present alongside the worry for his best friend. You tried to keep your voice contained, but loud enough for the boy to hear, “You need to call him, Stiles! Someone’s there with him!”

All that he could muster was a moan, his hand thrown up with a phone clutched between tense fingers, “I’ve been trying, he’s not picking up!” His spare hand ran nervously over his buzzed hair, and you had never felt so useless. You leant against the windowsill, your head dropping to the frame as you tried to think of what to do, or better yet, who was there with him. You turned your head, and didn’t look away from the still glitched out screen until Stiles’ voice sounded again, “I-I’m gonna come over, okay? Just… just hold on.”

Feet dragged you down the stairs, fumbling until you softly ran into your front door, unlocking it in time for Stiles to run through. He was panting, and you wondered for a small moment how he even got onto the lacrosse team if he lost his stamina from just running next door. He was about to speak, but his breathing was still heavy, his pointer finger lifting lazily to signal for a wait. Just as he was about to continue expressing his concerns, his phone rang, and you both jumped high with complete anticipation for Scott’s status. Stiles answered it immediately as you hovered by his side, the call put onto loudspeaker, “Dude! What – what the hell happened? Are you okay?”

“He told me that I can’t play in the game.” Was all that Scott’s frustrated voice said, the disappointment overly present.

You looked at Stiles perplexed before pushing for further details, “Who told you, Scott?”

“Derek. He said that if I even try to play… then he’ll kill me. And you wanna know what the worst part is? I think he was serious.”

Hearing his name again, and having it linked to Scott’s new werewolf status, was overwhelming as you took a step backward. Everything wasn’t as it seemed, and the boy… the man you thought you knew, was built of violence and anger and secrets. You supposed that a lot could change over the past few years, and that the Hale fire was more than a driving force for this completely different persona that you were hardly even used to yet. But it still tugged at your heart that the soft and kind boy that swore to protect you from the world, was the one causing the harm instead.

Stiles didn’t like to see you distraught, but hearing Scott call for his name as neither of you answered, made him focus back to his phone, “Well, Scotty… I think he’s right. It sucks, man, I know it does but if you shift in front of everyone – “

“I know, I know. Then Allison’s dad will be the one to kill me. I’m telling Coach first thing, I swear.”

Stiles nodded, finally letting his shoulders slump in relief that at least Scott was okay. He quickly lapped at his lips and sighed into the receiver, “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.” You listened as the two said their goodbyes, Stiles’ phone slipping into his pocket. From what he’s heard about Derek, he wasn’t a huge fan, especially now that he’s gone psycho stalker on Scott; but seeing you saddened by the development made him frown too.

You watched his lips dip down, and you knew what was coming next – he was going to question if you were okay. That’s all everyone seemed to be doing lately. It made you feel weak, as if you couldn’t handle yourself, as if something was always wrong with you. So before he could even try, you reached for his hand and dragged him up the stairs, pulling him into your room before softly kicking the door closed behind you. A word was hardly spoken as you wandered over to your bed, but you missed the way Stiles looked around him in awe.

He hadn’t been in your room for years, and it was vastly different. Some of the walls had changed, except for the familiar peeling floral print behind your bedhead, which made him smile. Any sign of a stuffed animal had completely vanished and was instead replaced by photos and the odd sentimental trinket. You had a vanity now covered in different types of makeup, and your wardrobe door was open as he sneakily took a peek at how your style had also changed and matured drastically. He felt as if he was meeting a new person, but maybe he was, the thought that the young girl he left behind was of course no where near who you had grown to be. This just meant that he had to get to know you all over again, something that Stiles was very much unopposed to.

His widened eyes finally landed on your form as you were crouched, pulling an array of papers and books from under your bed, before dumping it on top. He pursed his lips, walking slowly to your side, humming under his breath, “I see you traded out the pink. The sky-blue suits you much better.” He said, looking down as you looked up to him.

You nodded, a soft blush pinching at your cheeks, “My exact thoughts.” You didn’t look into his eyes for long, not wanting that whisky swirl to suck you in, as you instead leant down to scatter the pages around your bed and open the books to your marked pages. You stood back with a sigh, your hands on your hips, “I’ve been researching, but not getting too far.” Your lips knotted, disappointment obvious in your voice. You reached down for one of the books before holding it up to Stiles, “Think you could lend me a hand?”

He accepted it, graciously, as a wide grin perched between his dimpled cheeks. He always thought he’d have to be the one to ask first, but you taking the step in offering him the invitation meant that you trusted him, and that he was on the way to gaining that trust back one hundred percent, no matter what he had to do. “Let’s get down to business.”

Empty Chinese takeout boxes were gathered in a heap on your floor, chopsticks scattered around them as two full bodies sad against the side of your bed. Stiles had your laptop propped up on his bent knees as he scrolled through the never-ending sites of mythical creatures and beings, whilst you had your nose buried in a book and hand scribbling down more notes. You had been at it for an hour, and still no explanation was found. You were slowly losing faith again, close to just throwing in the towel and saying that it was all in your head – but you knew that Stiles wouldn’t let you do that. He was the most determined person in your life, and that boy would go to hell and back if it meant that he could be your saving grace. He continually refused to give up despite your small attempts, provoking you to sit back with a frown, but all he did was smile at you as he looked through his peripherals.

Stiles clicked his tongue, “Have you thought that maybe you’re not a creature… maybe you’re a being.”

You rutted your brows, leaning forward slightly to catch Stiles’ questioning gaze, “Is there even a difference?”

“Creatures are, well, just that… creatures. Beasts. Simply, non-human. Scott is a creature when he shifts, but you don’t do that.” His tone was factual as he turned the laptop more toward you, your eyes skimming with interest over the screen. You never stopped to think about the side of the supernatural that wasn’t werewolves and vampires, but he did, and it gave you the tiniest bit of regained hope that if anyone was going to find out just what you were then it would be Stiles Stilinski.

He cleared his throat, “There’s a few different types of supernatural beings that have… powers, I suppose, but they can stay in human form. Like – like here – “ He switched browsing tabs to a site that consisted of scanned pages from an archaic book, the text hardly legible as it was in scrawny penmanship. He dragged his finger along the sentences until he found the information he needed, “Psychics, witches, dreamwalkers. Maybe we’ve just been looking in the wrong place. We’re not searching for what supernatural creature you are; we’re searching for where your abilities lie.”

By now, you had forced yourself up against Stiles’ side, one hand inattentively pushing on his thigh for stability as you lent in for a closer look at your laptop.  You were too focused to notice the hitch in his breathing, or how his arm flailed hesitantly behind your head before settling at an odd angle along the edge of your bed. He could smell your shampoo because you were so close, and feel the warmth of your touch, and it was incredibly overwhelming to his senses. He just hoped, prayed, that you couldn’t feel the way his heart was galloping against his ribcage. You were none the wiser, however, returning to your prior position beside him. Your hand pulled away and settled in your lap, thinking back over the information you’d read, “You think I could be one of these?” 

He pushed out the breath he was holding before nodding his head, lips pulling up to form a lopsided boyish smile. His head was still reeling from your close vicinity, but he managed to play it cool, “I-I mean, it’s a possibility. We already know that your mind is the main source. You’re living others’ emotions and manifesting them as your own, you can literally feel pain that isn’t yours, or as in today… it was like your own shoulder separated, wasn’t it?” You nodded in agreement, relating his words back to the strange moments you had experienced over the past week. Stiles was too, even managing a small chuckle at his next thought, “It’s like you’re over-empathising without even realising it.”

It was as if his words had struck a chord, your body straightening from your position on the floor. Brown doe-like eyes watched you with intrigue, your own eyes darting at an empty space in the distance as you were beginning to recollect something your mother had often told you. She always had a knack, a talent, at reading others. She said it was how she first got a date with your father, knowing that he was nervous to offer a proposal so she took the first step, or how she could sense the love he had for her before he could find the words. It was portrayed as a fairy-tale story of love and promise and forever. She knew when something was wrong, or when it was about to head south, just by the weather cues or through the simple act of looking at someone across the room. You broke your arm in the third grade and she made the pain disappear with a small hold of your wrist, and a smile that so quick to force your own to copy. You had thought that she was purely intuitive, or as you’d call her as a young child ‘a mind reader’. It didn’t seem so obvious back then, because you didn’t know what you knew now. Then it all fell together. Piece by piece. You saw yourself within her so easily. This, you, it wasn’t coincidental.

“We are women of empathy.” You hummed lightly, words spoken under your breath, and if the room wasn’t so stark quiet… If you weren’t sitting shoulder to shoulder with Stiles, then he would’ve hardly heard you.

“What does that mean?” He wondered aloud, waiting for you to face him, relief settling in his chest when he noticed the small upturn of your lips and that this time you hadn’t blacked out in pain. 

Your head shook. You weren’t sure why it came to mind, the only trigger that made you remember being that simple word – empathising. You mother empathised, highly and easily. And so did you. You laughed out a small breath, “It’s something my mom would always tell me when I was little. I never knew what it meant, but it always made me feel strong, like her.”

“You think your mom used to feel things like you?” 

“I know she did.” You replied, your head leaning back against the side of your mattress. Your eyes fluttered closed for a small moment as you drew a deep breath – trying to regain your thoughts, more memories, any kind of lead toward what this really is. When your eyes reopened, Stiles was still looking at you. He never had looked away. He was intrigued and happy and his arms were twitching to hug you, but he couldn’t bring himself to cross that line, not yet. You simply smiled at him, and he smiled back, all anxiety now expelled from the room. “Now we just have to figure out what it all means.”

Although the hallway chatter between classes could nearly be considered as a cacophony, Scott was still started by the sound of Stiles’ locker closing beside him. He had just talked with Coach and judging by the still stressed pull of his features, it didn’t go as planned. Arms were shaking as he was gathering his books, a sign that he was now more than conflicted – whatever his chosen path, Scott would be drawing the short stick, and nothing fortuitous would be coming his way. He was murmuring under his breath, a whispered personal conversation where he rehashed his pros and cons, but you didn’t want to pry too much as you waited for him to be ready so that you two could get to class. Stiles was standing with you, feet pointed in the opposite direction of first period math as he had study hall instead. His foot was tapping incessantly as a mismatched rhythm echoed beneath him, his own way of holding back the questions he wanted to ask as a follow-up to Scott’s conversation with Coach. The young wolf was told to play the game, that whatever excuse he came up with wasn’t nearly good enough, but he was scared that he would hurt someone. You all were.

The moment his locker shut, you wanted to curl your fingers around Scott’s wrist and drag him behind you, but his feet stopped in their tracks when a familiar pretty brunette made her way through the crowd. She wore her usual bright smile, a welcoming attribute that lit up the room instantly, and that also lit up Scott’s face as he stared with wide and loving eyes. He was in deep, and even her father’s status and the lacrosse game couldn’t stop him from wanting to be by her side.

His phone dinged as she stood in front of you all, your hand lifting into a wave as she spoke a greeting in return. Scott began to speak in mumbled and nervous words, something about a text from his mother and Allison attending the lacrosse game. You instead stood back with Stiles as you couldn’t bare to put up with the awkwardness that was stemming with ease from Scott’s behalf. As you could see the small giggles and nervous hand gestures, you crossed your arms, watching them with slightly screwed eyes and brows, “Has he always been a nervous wreck, or is this werewolf thing just really getting to him?”

“Oh, no, this is tame for him.” Stiles replied immediately, his hands shoved into the deepened pockets of his jacket, watching the minor trainwreck with the same winced expression, “Lucy Jacobs touched his hand once by accident in middle school, and he ran away. Hid in the boy’s bathroom for like, an hour. It was hilarious.” You lightly jabbed at his side when he started laughing, the joyous sound dying down, but the large smile remained. Stiles shook his head, “The werewolf thing, though, definitely not making it any better.”

You sounded a noise of agreement, looking up to Stiles and you both shared a knowing look. It broke as quick as it started, your hand soon lifting as Allison began to move on and you waved her off, beaming at the kind girl until she turned away form you. Stiles wasn’t too long after, promising to meet up between your next classes, and you finally got a hold on Scott as you two walked across the building.

Math wasn’t something you were particularly strong in, but it was a class that you shared with Lydia, and you knew that she would do whatever she could to help you absolutely ace it. That’s why you shone a bright grin as you entered the room and saw the redhead already seated, her fingers dangling in a hello. You could see in the sharp point of her lips, a budding smirk, that she was ready to dominate whatever mathematical equations were put in front of her – not that she would outright admit that she could work in circles around every single person in this class, without fault. There was a spare seat behind her on the diagonal, your body slipping with ease into the chair with Scott plopping down behind you. He was hardly paying attention to the world around him; even when you were chosen to complete a calculation on the board, he was still staring out that classroom window with a far off look in his eyes. Whatever you were, it was provoking a feeling of nausea in your stomach as you continued to worry for Scott, inevitably taking on his saddened and scared thoughts that mixed unceasingly with his high-alert anxiety.

You were stuck on him, not even realising that your equation had been solved and that you’ve been standing inanimately at the board for a few minutes now. Your arm dropped down as your teacher shook your shoulder gently, eyelashes fluttering madly against your skin before you saw that you had finished your task. A small smile was pulled between your cheeks, one that didn’t reach your eyes, and you timidly moved back toward your seat. Lydia’s hand was held out for you as she smirked smugly at your good work, and you high-fived her – after all, you wouldn’t be this efficient at your work if it hadn’t been for the bubbly redhead. As you sat back in your seat, you looked over your shoulder at Scott, and he turned to face you when he noted movement.

You frowned, “Like Stiles very much likes to remind me, every problem has a solution. We’ll figure everything out, I promise.”

His lips lifted, a sparkle of gratefulness crossing his eyes. Scott nodded his head before he hummed, “So, does that mean you forgive him then? For whatever happened between you guys?”

“Let’s just say - ” You started, drawing in a deep breath, simply for dramatics, “-that I don’t want to hit him with my car anymore.”

Scott finally shone a proper smile, one that brought colour back to his cheeks and caused small lines of joy to crinkle beside his eyes, “Well, that’s a good start.”

His name was called, prompting both of your eyes to focus on your teacher as he gestured for Scott to join him at the board. He was diffident; head looking down as he followed a very confident Lydia as she also took her stance at the front of the room. Her posture was perfectly upright and oozed self-assurance, an opposition to Scott and his unwillingness to have the attention put on him. You couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but the way they both slightly turned their heads and the clenching of Scott’s fist made it clear that Lydia was speaking rather unmotivating words to your new friend. She knew how to rile somebody up within a split second; it came hand-in-hand with her increased intelligence and impressive observation skills, aspects which she utilised on a daily basis.

Lydia finished first, and in near record-breaking time, before she sashayed back to her seat. You lent forward as she sat, voice hardly above a whisper, “Lyds, what did you say to him?” You asked, recognising the despair as Scott wore it too well for comfort. The small moment of happiness you witnessed prior had vanished, and the upsetting and empty shell of a boy had returned.

Lydia pursed her lips, not seeming bothered by your concern for him, “Only that there’s some super cute guys on the lacrosse team that want to meet Allison. Oh, and that he better play the Saturday game seeming he’s the one that pushed Jackson out of peak performance.” Her tone had bite; it was sharp and cold, and you knew that her insinuated threat was one to not take lightly.

It was as if Scott was listening to your conversation the moment he turned back around, facing the class with focused eye contact only on you. The need was there to pull the boy into your arms and rock him back and forth until the distraint was alleviated; but alas, you shone him a small smile, sympathy pinching between your cheeks despite how hard you were trying to prevent it. He returned a smile that refused to meet his eyes, only for it to drop further as he peered to Lydia and the smirk she gave him as she continued texting away on her phone.

“Okay, you’re seriously just depressing me now, Scott.” You closed your locker as the boy sunk against metal beside you, this position being second nature to him now ever since the first day of Sophomore year. He had refused to speak ever since your last class, your small talk of encouraging words going through one ear and out the other. It was as if he wasn’t even trying to make things better for himself.

He moaned, his head lulling to the side as it fell toward you, “I thought you were on my side.”

With arms crossed, you shifted your weight onto one side as you held yourself up against your locker, facing the young werewolf as you sighed, “I am, I just also happen to feel how shitty you feel and it’s even bringing me down. Take a breather.”

Scott was so engrossed in his problems that he forgot about your own, a hand now rubbing at his face as he grimaced at what exactly you could feel from him. He was very well aware of how downcast his heart was, the mixture of anxiety and stress and fear only adding to the nauseous concoction in his stomach – and you were absorbing every last ounce of emotion.

“I forgot about that.” He admitted sheepishly, but you just smiled warmly. You couldn’t turn on or off the way you connected to the things around you, but it was starting to make sense that the more intense the emotions and pain of others were, then you would be feeling them much easier.

You nodded, “We’re both still trying to find our footing in this new crazy world, but it won’t happen straight away. You can take a break, Scott, you’re allowed to stop every now and then.” You could see his head bob in acknowledgement, words resonating in his mind as a stood a little straighter. Scott closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, allowing himself to hold it in until you could see his cheeks flush pink. As he exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropped, and he wiggled his fingers to release any leftover tension. You smiled at him, properly, “Better?”

The iconic wide grin of Scott McCall returned as he looked back to you, appreciation now softening his brown eyes, “Much, thanks.”

It was swift when Stiles came bumbling around the corner, his shoes skidding against the floor as he reached the both of you, the screech of rubber against linoleum catching the attention of the surrounding students. Your brows furrowed in question, but all he did was point a finger each at you and Scott, his head gesturing toward the next hallway. “You and you –“ He started, slightly breathless as his feet were moving on the spot, not allowing his energy to decrease, ” - come with me.”  

He hardly allowed time for questions before he had disappeared again, a shared look between yourself and Scott only showing silent questioning as you both hurried after him. The reasoning behind Stiles’ behaviour quickly became apparent as you spotted Sheriff Stilinski standing outside of the principal’s office, too far down the corridor for you to hear the conversation, but the tight-lips and squinted eyes hinted that it wasn’t a pleasant topic of choice.

Stiles grasped your shoulder, pulling you behind a pillar as you both stood behind Scott. The energetic boy tapped his foot, teeth digging into his bottom lip before gesturing toward his father, “Tell me what they’re saying.” He said to Scott, the young werewolf closing his eyes as he attempts to tune into the Sheriff’s conversation. His head slightly moved, eyes squeezing, an indication that he was trying to concentrate enough to drown out the chatter of your peers. Stiles grunted, “Well? Can you hear ‘em?”

Scott shushed him, loudly, as he tried to catch the end of the discussion. It wasn’t long afterwards that the meeting was dissipated as Scott faced you both with widened eyes, “There’s a curfew. Because of the body.”

Stiles’ hands were thrown high, a look of incredulity playing across his face as he grew slightly frustrated at the decision made by his father. He began to walk away, once again leaving you and Scott to follow behind him as he started speaking out in a tangent, “Seriously… unbelievable. My dad’s out looking for a-a rabid animal, while the jerkoff who actually killed the girl is just… hanging out! Doing whatever he wants!”

Scott pursed his lips, “Well you can’t exactly tell your dad the truth about Derek…”

“Uh, what about the fact that we don’t even know for sure that he did kill her!” You butted in, pushing yourself forward until you stood in front of Stiles, Scott managing to come to a halt beside the other boy as you remained in front. With your arms folded you looked at them both with a quirked brow, and all that Stiles could do was sigh, his hand rubbing with conflict over his buzzed head.

He didn’t want to look at you because he knew that he’d be met with puppy dog eyes; naiveness that could easily turn into fire with the wrong choice of words. But the clearing of your throat dragged his vision like a magnetised force, and Stiles was left with feeding you a possibility that you didn’t want to hear. He bit his lip briefly, “With the evidence, we can’t quite rule out that he didn’t do it either. But what I do know is that if my dad can’t do anything about it, then I can do something.”

In your gut, you knew he was right, and a part of you even appreciated how he tried to soften the blow. To think though, that Derek, the sweet boy with the big blue eyes growing up, was capable of something so devilish like murder… it would always be incomprehensible to you. With a short nod, you moved to the side so that you could continue to your next class, listening in as Scott asked what exactly Stiles could do, all the world’s scepticism bound to his voice.

But Stiles just smiled, determination in his eyes, a confident firmness in his tone that worried you a little as you heard what he had to say, “We’re gonna find the other half of the body.”

You scoffed, disdained by the idea of digging yourselves further into his murderous hole. Stiles peered to his side and you immediately recognised the grin of mischief that earned him his childhood nickname, “Are you fucking with us right now? This could be some really serious, dangerous shit, Stiles.”

“Which is why we need to grab this bull by the horns and sort it out before anyone else gets killed.” He rebutted with a simple shrug of his shoulders, his calm demeanour oddly impressive as the thought of death itself was enough to make your stomach twist and turn.

You shook your head, trying to lower your voice before your exasperation alarmed the classroom you were stepping into, “We could get killed!” It was a hushed yell, and it was fortunate that Stiles was the only one who heard as you took a seat beside him in the middle row.

He drew a deep breath, “Between Scott’s freaky werewolf powers and our loveable innocent faces, we’ll be fine.”

Whatever loveable and innocent face Stiles was talking about was nowhere to be seen as you deadpanned him, indignity tearing at your furrowed brows and tense jaw. What you found the most dumbfounding, however, was that even though you believed his idea to be of the highest stupidity… you would still follow him into whatever danger there was, headfirst. No questions asked.

You smiled as your phone screen lit up, the small vibration of a received message reverberating about the tabletop of your desk. Valerie had gone on a second date, and she was now in the bathroom sending you excited messages from one of Beacon Hill’s fanciest restaurants – as fancy as Beacon Hills could get, really. As she left a couple hours prior, you couldn’t help but think that you hadn’t seen her smile so brightly in what would have been years. She was finally allowing herself to get her life back on track and not let the dark and tortured emotions of your parent’s deaths get the better of her. You could really take a page out of her book, you supposed.

You replied to her with a could of thumbs up emojis and some small wording about how happy you were for her, finishing it off with a single red heart, a signature for you both when signing off a text. Eyes were quick to look back over your English notes, settling down into the routine you made the moment you got home from school. Your night was humble as you were home alone, the only sounds you could hear were the very quiet and soft melodies playing from your phone – a necessity to have background noise as you found utter silence the most deafening. You were taking in the annotations that you made during class earlier that day, hoping that they would make more sense now that you were in the privacy of your room, able to reread as many times as you needed without the pressure of keeping up with the pace of your teacher. You were so absorbed that the split second your ringtone started to echo throughout the room, you jumped with a loud gasp, your heart hammering in your chest.

Stiles’ name flashed across your screen, but you waited a could more rings before you answered due to the jump scare you definitely did not anticipate this evening. Breathlessly, with a hand still pressed to your chest, you responded, “Hello?”

“Hey, hi, hi, sorry I know it’s late but I was at the station, and Scott said he had news so I rushed over, otherwise I would have stopped to get you but he said it was important and I’m – “ He stopped mid-rant to pant out his breaths, the phone temporarily moved away from his face as you imagined him bent down with hands pressed to his knees. He needed to work out more.

You hummed, “Stiles? You there?”

Footsteps were loud as they echoed into the phone, sounding like shoes smacking against wood panelling, and you guessed that he was now making his way up the main staircase inside the McCall residence. He brought the phone back up to his ear, “I just didn’t wanna leave you out of the loop, ya know?” You couldn’t stop the smile that fell on your lips, a warm feeling gathering at the base of your ribs that you hadn’t felt in a very long time. It was an odd sensation, but it was nice. Suddenly, the sound of Scott’s voice could be heard in the background, and Stiles pulled the phone away again, “Hold on, let me put Y/N on speaker.”

You sat back in your chair; arms crossed over your chest as you kicked your feet up on the edge of your bed. You called out toward your phone, “Hey, Scott. What’s goin – “

“What did you find? How did you find it? Where did you find it?” Stiles blurted, and you could imagine him literally bouncing on the spot with absolute anticipation for whatever development Scott had made. A scoff was heard, and you were sure it came from the other boy before Stiles sighed loudly, “And yes, I’ve had a lot of Adderall.”

“Just a lot?” You pitched in, a snorted sound of acknowledgement indicating that Stiles had heard the sarcasm in your voice.

Scott chuckled at the banter, but the humour wasn’t carried into what he had to say next, “I found something at Derek Hale’s.”

You gasped, “What?”

“ – Are you kidding me?” Stiles sounded, just as shocked as you were. You didn’t know Scott was going to Derek’s, and by the tone in Stiles’ voice, he too was unaware.

Scott hummed, “There’s something buried out there. I could smell blood.”

The phone was fumbled between the clumsy hands of Stiles as you heard excitement in his voice, the pitch raising with eagerness, “That’s awesome!” And you rolled your eyes, knowing that Scott would be doing the same thing due to the silence that followed. Stiles eventually cleared his throat, “I mean… that’s terrible. Who’s blood?”

“I don't know...” He started, but his voice got louder as it grew closer, telling you that he had made his way toward Stiles and the phone, “But, when we do, your dad nails Derek for the murder. And then, you guys can help me figure out how to play lacrosse without changing, because there's no way I'm not playing that game.”

He sounded definite; an oddly out of character thing for Scott as he usually sat on the line of indecisiveness and timidity. It was easy, though, to sense his desperation and you were certain that having werewolf blood now coursing through his veins was enough to build up that up-and-coming courage of his.

“So, uh…” Stiles said with confusion, the sound of footsteps once again coming clear, “Looks like we’re gonna swing by yours. See you in ten?”

You didn’t know what they had planned, and you didn’t know just what crazy scheme Scott was configuring in his head, but you still sighed and locked eyes with your sneakers across the room. Pursing your lips, you picked up your phone, “I’ll be ready in five.”