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1-800-local-slut · 2 months ago

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literally stiles smut anything girl

15 Minutes

You have fifteen minutes with Stiles's, and you're not going to waste them

Stiles Stilinski x Black! Super Horny! Witch! Reader

Warnings: smut smut smut and more smut, creampies, unprotected sex (don't do that guys) Stiles is obsessed with you, underaged drinking mentions, is Stiles under a spell or just horny? (he's just horny lol)

It was all your fault. Stiles tried to resist but you were too horny to wait even a second longer. It has been three weeks since you and Stiles had sex, and you were feigning like a crackhead. Damn near itching for it.

You crawled on top of him the moment you two were left alone is his living room after Scott and Allison volunteered for a beer run. Now you, ever the opportunist took two minutes to get Stiles out of his pants. It was like the room was on fire and Stiles was the reason for the fire burning inside of you.

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Stiles tries not to think with his dick. It's hard (pun intended) when Stiles is currently sitting under you, his dick inside of you while he hammered up into you. You squealed, scratched your nails down his back, and cried out his name.

It was like a prayer, the way you cried out his name, and Stiles wasn't about to disappoint you.

He panted heavily, shaking and trying to keep track of the time. He shook his wrist to check his watch and tried to ensure that he wasn't about to risk the other couple coming back and catching you two in the act.

You tempted him, but was he just as guilty for giving in to you? Probably, but it was hard to think about that when he was focusing on how pretty your chest looked bouncing up and down like that.

Your dark eyes held him in place, keeping him physically and mentally trapped under the weight of your desire for him. When those big brown beauties weren't looking down at him through your lashes, then they were rolling back from the pressure of him hitting it just right.

You casted a spell on him, you had to have. It was the only thing that made sense as he yanked on the puff you had styled behind your head and pulled you backwards. He couldn't control himself, the moment you pushed up against him it was like a switch flipped in his brain. And because you were so perfect for Stiles's willing to take whatever he gave you, moaned out a gleeful 'thank you'.

Leaning forward, he took one of your dark nipples and bit it tenderly, much to your delight. The funny thing is, Stiles wasn't even worried about himself. He wasn't worried about cumming inside of you and putting your underwear back on so it would stay inside. He knew you'd let him do anything to you, but it wasn't about what he wanted.

It was about you. Stiles was worshipping you, because you'd been such an angel. The past two-three weeks, you two hadn't even had a moment to hold hands. He left warm kisses on your neck, kisses that made your thighs do a little jump. With each swipe of his tongue across your skin you would let out a little 'oh god'. For the past two weeks, Stiles's has been busy. Too busy for even you it seemed.

And now was the time for him to care for you. To reward you for those late nights where you stayed up for him, those mornings he'd wake up to breakfast waiting for him, helping him fold laundry when he needed a hand, when you packed his lacrosse bag for him in order to keep him from getting screamed at after a hard night, those last-minute spells you'd cast at his request.

He picked up the speed, hips hammering upwards then stopping for just a moment to tease you just a bit. You whined, from the lack of stimulation but Stiles knows you. You wouldn't be enjoying this if it wasn't so rough after how long you've waited and if he didn't tease you just it bit it wasn't even sex for you two. For the first time in two weeks, you were technically 'bad'. You rolled your hips around in a circle, your clit rubbing against the hardened muscles of his groin. A hard spank stopped you quickly though he couldn't blame you for your desperation.

The make-out sessions in his car, in your bedroom, in his bedroom, in the police station, the locker room, empty hallways, empty classrooms, places you've had to break into, empty hospital rooms, at just about any moment you two had but never enough time to really go all the way. And you deserved more than kisses, dry humping, gropes that left you both feeling lightheaded. When you got the chance to take more than that, you quite literally pounced on him.

Picking up the pace, resuming his punishment (or more so your reward) he pulled your face down and gave you a sloppy kiss. You swallowed each other's moans. Separating briefly, you panted while Stile's kept his grip on your neck firm and his eye contact extreme. The closer you got to creaming all over him and his lap, the more pathetic you got. Whimpering, moaning and pleading for it to never end,

You tried your damnest to keep your eyes on him. To keep looking into those beautiful hazel eyes that were a darker color as he used his free hand to spank you. Each slap sent your eyes back just for a moment.

But combined with the feeling of him battering into your g-spot? You just went ahead and gave up. And Stiles knows you. So, he knows that when you arch your back and grind your hips down while your entire body starts to shake, its time.

A strong had slipped around your front, his thumb finding your clit and you almost started to fight him. To run a bit. But Stiles knows you, and he knows you'd never EVER run from an orgasm. Not one from Stiles who you love so much.

You let out a moan that sounded as if you'd been waiting for this your entire life. You squirmed and your entire body went limp. His hips slammed up into yours just one more time and he came with a grunt and a moan of your name in your ear. A creampie had never felt so good. Like heaven or laying on a set of freshly washed and dried sheets. And Stiles had a revelation.

Why would he put his and your clothes back on, literally stop looking at the perfection that is your naked body, to sit around and get mildly drunk with you and Alison? When he can stay home, run around his house naked with you, have sex AND get drunk with you?

Man fuck Scott, fuck Allison and fuck them beers. He could get his own beers, he has a fake ID. While he held you still, he slid his phone free from the couch cushion it was tucked into and decided to put you before everyone else.

And a quick text telling Scott to take his ass home (like seriously don't come back here man), and Stiles was ready to give you the long night you deserved. The long, steamy night, where Stiles intends to give you your favorite kind of sex. Messy-choking-so many orgasms you forget your name-maybe record it too-slapping sex. The type of sex you deserved after being so good for him the past few weeks and understanding that it's not that he didn't love and miss you, but he just couldn't be there as much as you deserved.

You'd done everything for Stiles, and Stiles was going to thank you. Thankfully, he now had more than 15 minutes.

#black reader #x black reader #x reader #fem reader #multifandom account #requests open #stiles x black reader #stiles stilinksi smut #stiles stilinski smut #stiles smut #stiles x reader #teen wolf smut #teen wolf #teen wolf x black reader #requests are open

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 7 months ago

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Hiya! Do you know any Sterek fics where Derek rejects the mate bond with Stiles and just ignores it all, leading to Stiles feeling the strain or pain of an ignored/incomplete bond? I've read one before where Derek just moved away cuz he didn't think it was a big deal and Stiles really took the brunt of it. But any fics that are similar would be perfect. P.S. Thank you for everything that you do and I hope that you're having a great day!

Oh yes. I love this kind of angst.

soulmates tbh by bleep0bleep

(1/1 I 1,423 I Teen)

"It’s been five months," Derek says darkly. "Why am I still getting these proposals? You know these are probably all fake marks."

Five months since the paparazzi had snapped that photo of him with the overzealous fan tugging at his shirt, five months since millions of people on the Internet realized that the birthmark revealed was in fact, the mark, five months Derek was inundated by claims from people who desperately wanted him to believe that they were his soul-mate.

Second Chances by rootbeer

(1/1 I 2,624 I General)

"A lot of times the ‘markings’ were common, simple things you said to strangers all the time. 'Excuse me'; 'thank you'; 'hello'. Some got extremely romantic things like 'it’s you isn’t it? I’ve been waiting for you' or 'Wow you’re really pretty'. And they were always the first words their soulmate would ever say to them.

Of course, having 'You are the fucking worst kind of person in the world' tattooed down your side, didn’t bode well. How fucked up was Stiles Stilinski that even his fucking Soulmate hated him? High School had been a special kind of hell when all the kids learned what his tattoo said—despite his best efforts to keep it a secret."

Three Marks by sanam

(8/8 I 113,736 I Mature)

"And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off— And suddenly it was done. Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt."

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

I Hunt For You With Bloody Feet by CharWright5

(26/26 I 200,462 I Explicit)

“Mates don't always mean happy ever after.”

When twenty-year-old born omega werewolf Stiles Stilinski received that cryptic email from his twin brother—who'd been missing for two years exactly—in a language the two of them had made up, his drive to find Stuart is doubled. The search leads him to Oak Creek, the most secured and heavily fortified city in all of California, where he finds that not only is his brother dead, but also the literal alpha of his Dreams in Derek Hale—who just happens to be his twin's Mate and the main suspect in Stiles' eyes. Despite an agreement to fight mutual feelings, the two are still drawn to each other as they try to solve the case themselves, uncovering a plot that goes deeper than the murder of just one wolf.

Blue Monday by ExpectNothingGainEverything

(19/? I 535,709 I Explicit)

Stiles would have never guessed that the star player of the lacrosse team and presumably the hottest guy in school who everyone wanted a piece of and one of his most hated bullies would turn out to be his soulmate.

Derek would never have dreamed that fate would be so cruel to pair him up with a freak like Stilinski.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #mates #angst

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darkintothedawn · 3 months ago

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RUNWAY FEVER || Stiles Stilinski 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Stiles Stilinski x female reader

Summary — The runway can't be that bad, right? Not when you've got Stiles hyping you up and a goddess telling you she's jealous of your relationship with Stiles. It's going to be fine. Maybe a little more than fine.

Memo — This is the first of the two stiles x fem reader fics I've got planned. Hope you enjoy this, guys! Also, I'm posting this now because day nine of The Boyfriend Code is going to be a little late ;;;;;;

Word Count — 3013

Warnings — Fluff. Suggestive comment. A single dirty joke. Completely head over heels, obsessed Stiles.

Masterlist | Stiles' Adventures | Pt.2

Backstage at the runway show is pure chaos. Models rush past, some still adjusting their heels, while stylists and designers scramble to make last-minute changes to outfits. Makeup artists hover around with brushes in hand, dabbing, fixing, perfecting. The air is thick with hairspray and anticipation, a mix of nerves and adrenaline buzzing through everyone.

But the only thing on your mind is him.

Stiles stands a few feet away, leaning against a clothing rack stacked with designer dresses that cost more than his Jeep. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans, but there’s no disguising the way his gaze is locked onto you—hungry, intense, devouring.

His hazel eyes track your every movement as you adjust your dress, a stunning, high-slit masterpiece with a plunging neckline that leaves little to the imagination. You feel powerful in it, like you belong here, about to walk the runway in front of hundreds of people. But damn, does Stiles make you feel like you’re the only person in the room.

“Babe.” His voice is rough, low, practically strangled. You meet his gaze in the mirror, and the second your eyes connect, he runs a hand down his face like he needs a second to collect himself. “Holy shit.”

You smirk, turning toward him slightly, shifting just enough so the slit in your dress reveals even more of your thigh. His jaw visibly tightens.

“You like it?” you tease, voice light but sultry.

His lips part like he wants to say something—probably something witty, something Stiles-like—but all that comes out is a quiet, strangled noise. His eyes drop, dragging over every inch of you, and then, for the third time since you came out of the dressing room, he shifts on his feet and readjusts himself.

Not discreetly. At all.

You fold your arms, amusement flickering in your expression. “Are you—?”

His head snaps up like a deer caught in headlights. “What?”

You bite your lip, fighting the grin threatening to spread across your face. “Stiles.”

“What?” he repeats, like he has no idea what you’re insinuating, even though the heat creeping up his neck betrays him.

“You’ve adjusted yourself like five times.”

He groans dramatically, dragging a hand down his face before gesturing at you like you’re the one at fault. “Yeah, well, maybe if my ridiculously hot girlfriend wasn’t out here looking like a literal goddess, I wouldn’t have this problem!”

You raise a brow. “Oh, so it’s my fault?”

“Absolutely your fault.” His voice is firm, but his expression is wild, his hands flailing in frustration. “I mean, do you see yourself? I should be suing this designer for emotional distress. I’m barely keeping it together over here.”

A laugh bursts from you, the nervous energy from the upcoming show melting under his ridiculousness. He always does this—grounds you, makes everything feel right. “You’re so dramatic.”

“No, I’m suffering.” His voice drops into something deeper, and before you can react, he’s in front of you, hands sliding around your waist, pulling you in just enough that you feel the heat radiating from him. His breath is warm against your lips as he murmurs, “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Your heart stutters, and suddenly, the bustling backstage disappears for just a moment. The music in the distance dulls, the frantic chatter of models and designers fades, and all that’s left is him—his warmth, his presence, the way his fingers flex against the fabric of your dress like he’s barely resisting the urge to press you closer.

Your smirk softens, your hands resting against his chest as you whisper, “Oh, I have an idea.”

Before he can respond, someone brushes past with a very pointed, “Not the time, Stilinski.”

Stiles groans, tilting his head back dramatically, but he doesn’t step away, just loosens his grip enough to let out a frustrated exhale. “Okay, but after the show—”

“You’ll wait like a good boyfriend,” you interrupt, grinning as you tap a finger against his chin.

His eyes darken, his hands flexing against your waist again like he’s imagining a million different ways to make you pay for this later. “Babe, you’re killing me.”

You step back, adjusting your dress as the stagehand waves for you to get in line. But just before you turn away, you glance at him over your shoulder and wink.

“Good.”

The air backstage is thick with anticipation, a humming mixture of adrenaline, nerves, and controlled chaos. The bass of the runway music vibrates through the floor, and the chatter of stylists, designers, and models is a constant buzz around you. It’s almost time.

You take your place in the lineup, stepping behind one of the other models, and immediately feel your stomach do a weird little flip. Because the girl in front of you?

She’s stunning.

Like, next-level, out-of-this-world, sculpted-by-the-gods beautiful. She has that effortless, intimidating beauty that makes heads turn without her even trying—long, elegant limbs, perfect bone structure, and skin that looks airbrushed in real life. And while you know you belong here, standing next to her makes a tiny flicker of self-doubt creep in.

She catches you looking and offers a warm, knowing smile. “You okay?”

You snap out of it, forcing a small laugh. “Yeah, just pre-show nerves.”

She hums, nodding in understanding as she shifts slightly, checking her posture in the nearby mirror. “Yeah, I get that. This part is always the worst.” She glances past you for a split second, then her lips curve into something playful. “But, honestly? I’d kill to have a boyfriend looking at me the way yours is looking at you right now.”

Your brows lift slightly, and instinctively, you glance over your shoulder.

And sure enough—there he is.

Stiles is still exactly where you left him, leaning against a rack of expensive designer pieces like he’s trying to play it cool, but failing miserably. His arms are crossed over his chest now, but his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, and his eyes haven’t left you once. He looks like a man barely holding it together, like he’s physically restraining himself from marching over and claiming you in front of everyone.

Your heart does a weird little flutter at the intensity of it.

The model in front of you smirks, crossing her arms. “Yeah, see? That’s the look of a man who’s two seconds away from storming back here and hauling you over his shoulder.” She tilts her head slightly, observing. “And I don’t mean in a controlling way. I mean in a he’s literally in physical agony having to watch you and not touch you kind of way.”

The ego boost hits.

This woman—this goddess—who could have anyone in the world, is jealous of you? Of the way Stiles looks at you like you hung the moon? The way he’s so visibly obsessed with you that it’s noticeable to other people?

Yeah. Yeah, that feels really good.

You bite your lip, trying so hard not to grin like an idiot. “Yeah, he’s, uh… persistent.”

She lets out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Understatement of the year. I bet he’s counting down the seconds until you’re off that stage.”

You steal another glance at Stiles, and just like that, he shifts—his fingers drumming against his biceps, his foot tapping slightly like he’s forcing himself to stay put. And when you move slightly, your dress shifting just enough to reveal more skin, you swear you see him mouth holy shit under his breath.

Your stomach flutters, and suddenly, the nerves about walking the runway don’t feel as overwhelming anymore.

But before you can respond, someone shushes the two of you, snapping your attention forward.

The first model moves around the corner, stepping onto the runway with effortless grace. The energy shifts instantly, the chatter quieting as everyone watches.

The show has officially begun.

The moment the first model steps onto the runway, time seems to shift.

You stand tall, trying to steady your breathing as the lineup slowly moves forward. The music thrums through your chest, deep and rhythmic, matching the precise pace of the models walking ahead of you. One goes, then another.

You’re fifth in line.

You watch the model in front of you disappear around the corner, stepping into the blinding runway lights. The crowd’s reaction is muffled from here, the sound barely cutting through the heavy bass of the music and the distant clicking of cameras.

Fourth in line.

Your fingers twitch slightly at your sides, the nervous energy starting to build again. You take a breath, lifting your chin like the stylists taught you, rolling your shoulders back.

Third in line.

You shake out your hands once, exhaling slowly. The girl in front of you is poised, relaxed, like she’s done this a hundred times before. Maybe she has. But to you, it all feels surreal.

Second in line.

Your heart beats a little faster. One more. Just one more.

Then suddenly—it’s you.

You step around the corner, and the world erupts.

The lights are blinding. The flashes go off in rapid succession, the music pulses through your body, and the moment your foot touches the glossy runway, everything else melts away.

The cameras. The people. The nerves.

All that exists is the rhythm—the smooth, practiced movements of your walk, the way your dress flows effortlessly with each step, the subtle shift of your body as you pause at the end of the runway. Pose. Hold. Turn.

It’s all muscle memory.

A blur of white lights, shifting shadows, blurred faces in the audience. Somewhere, you know Stiles is watching, but you don’t dare break focus to find him. Instead, you keep your expression sharp, confident, the way you’ve practiced a thousand times.

Before you even process it, it’s over.

You step back into the wings, the sounds dulling instantly as the thick curtains swallow you whole. The shift from the runway to backstage is like stepping out of a dream and straight into reality again.

And just like that, you’re standing next to her again.

The stunning model from earlier, the one who made you doubt yourself for even a second, is standing there like nothing just happened, like the two of you weren’t just parading in front of an entire crowd.

You exhale, shaking out your hands.

She glances at you, tilting her head slightly. “See? Told you it’d be fine.”

You huff a soft laugh, the adrenaline still thrumming under your skin. “Yeah. It all just… blurred together.”

She nods, like she knows exactly what you mean. “It always does. The nerves before, the rush during… and now we just stand here and pretend like we didn’t just walk in front of hundreds of people.”

You snort, and just like that, the tension melts. The two of you fall into easy conversation, the chaos of the show still raging around you, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

It’s done. You did it.

And somewhere in the crowd, Stiles is definitely still struggling to pick his jaw up off the floor.

You shake your hands out again, the last bits of adrenaline still tingling under your skin. The whole thing happened so fast it barely feels real, but here you are—backstage, done, standing next to the stunning model from before like you didn’t just walk in front of hundreds of people.

She eyes you with a knowing smirk, arms crossed. “You crushed it.”

You huff a small laugh, still catching your breath. “I barely remember any of it.”

She grins. “That’s how you know you did it right. It’s all muscle memory—one second you’re waiting in line, the next you’re back here like nothing happened.”

You nod, still processing. “Yeah, that was… insane.”

She studies you for a beat, then smirks. “So, tell me. Are we taking bets on how long your boyfriend lasts before he’s on you like a man possessed?”

Your cheeks heat instantly. “Oh my God.”

“I’m serious.” She gestures toward the direction where he’s waiting. “He’s either about to drag you out of here or spend the next ten minutes hyping you up so hard you’ll be floating for days.”

You bite back a grin, because honestly? She’s not wrong.

Before you can respond, one of the assistants appears, clapping her hands. “Alright, let’s go, let’s go—get changed, and if you have any finale outfits, be ready in ten.”

You give the model a quick smile before getting ushered toward the changing area. As you step inside, you glance down at your dress, running your fingers over the fabric.

God, it’s perfect.

For a brief moment, you seriously consider begging them to let you keep it. Maybe even buy it if you have to. Then you check the designer tag and nearly laugh at yourself—yeah, not happening. This dress probably costs more than your rent.

With a reluctant sigh, you slip out of it and change back into your own clothes, handing the dress off to one of the assistants.

Then, with a deep breath, you make your way through the bustling backstage, weaving past crew members and models, until you finally reach the section where Stiles is waiting.

And the second he sees you?

Yeah, you’re in for it.

The moment Stiles spots you, his entire face lights up.

Like, full-on cartoon heart eyes, jaw practically on the floor, body vibrating with excitement kind of reaction. His arms drop from where they were crossed over his chest, his mouth opens, closes, then opens again, like his brain is short-circuiting trying to find the words.

Then, just as you reach him—

“Oh my God, babe.”

It starts immediately.

He grabs your hands, eyes wild, voice bursting with so much enthusiasm that a few people actually glance over in amusement. “Are you kidding me? Are you literally kidding me right now?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Uh—”

“You were insane!” he barrels on, shaking your hands for emphasis. “Like, top-tier, next-level, shut-the-whole-runway-down level insane. I blacked out! I think I actually blacked out!”

You let out a breathy laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. “Stiles—”

“No, don’t Stiles me, because I need you to understand that I was not okay watching that,” he continues, throwing a hand over his heart dramatically. “I almost had to be escorted out, okay? Security probably had an eye on me because I was looking at you like a deranged fanboy—which, by the way, I am—but holy shit, baby.”

You bite your lip, fighting a massive grin.

“I mean, the walk? The look? The way that dress moved with your body? I almost died on the spot. I think I did die at one point, actually.” He presses a hand to his forehead, shaking his head like he’s still trying to recover. “I saw the light, babe.”

You lose it, laughter spilling from you as you squeeze his hands. “Stiles, you’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m being realistic,” he counters, pulling you closer. “Do you even realize how insane you looked? How freaking sexy you were up there?”

Your cheeks heat instantly, and Stiles sees it, grinning so big you think his face might split in half.

“And don’t even get me started on how unfair it was that I had to sit there, in public, watching you be all hot and powerful and confident—knowing I couldn’t touch you? Couldn’t grab you and kiss you senseless? Torture. Actual, physical torture.”

You giggle, shaking your head. “You’re so dramatic.”

He gasps, offended. “Excuse me, I am being so serious right now.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is so full you feel like you might float away.

Stiles softens slightly, squeezing your waist. “I mean it, babe. You were incredible. And I know I joke around a lot, but seeing you up there? Owning it? Being everything I already know you are? I was just… so damn proud.”

Your breath catches, and for a second, it’s hard to find words.

So instead, you just cup his face and pull him in for a long, lingering kiss—one that’s filled with everything you’re feeling but can’t quite say.

When you finally pull back, Stiles blinks at you, dazed, then exhales a dreamy sigh. “Yeah. Okay. That helped.”

You snicker, resting your forehead against his. “Good.”

He grins, eyes shining. “So, uh… how do we steal that dress?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you smack his arm. “We are not stealing the dress, criminal.”

Stiles gasps, hand flying to his chest. “Criminal? Wow. Hurtful.”

Ignoring his dramatics, you grab his hand and start pulling him toward the exit, your body still buzzing from the post-show adrenaline and his nonstop praise. “Come on, let’s go. Where’s my favorite girl?”

Stiles groans, dragging his feet slightly. “Ugh, here we go.”

You glance back, raising a brow. “What?”

“You mean Roscoe, don’t you?” He gives you a deadpan look, but his lips are twitching. “You just rocked a runway, looked like an actual goddess, and the first thing you ask about is my Jeep?”

You smirk, squeezing his hand. “Well, you did say I looked insanely sexy. I figure I should reward myself with some quality time with my second favorite ride.”

Stiles chokes, tripping over his own feet. “Oh my God.”

You just giggle, tugging him along as he stares at you, wide-eyed, like he can’t believe what just came out of your mouth.

Finally, he shakes his head, muttering under his breath. “Unbelievable. I have to compete with my own car for my girlfriend’s attention.”

You glance at him with a playful grin, voice dropping just enough to be suggestive. “Maybe you should remind me why you should be first on my list, then.”

Stiles stares at you for a solid three seconds before groaning dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. “Babe, you are killing me.”

You just laugh, swinging your joined hands as you step outside, feeling on top of the world.

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #female reader #stiles stilinski x female reader #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski x female reader fluff

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princesssmars · 2 years ago

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practical magick

a stiles stilinski x witch!reader

plot : just when stiles thought he had gotten used to the dramatics of the supernatual, he happens across you performing magic in the forest. when you fail to wipe his memory, his thursday afternoon gets a whole lot weirder.

wc : 4.678

contains : sfw. kissing at the end. the picture for look inspo is fair-skinned but the reader's skin color is not described! reader has hair! google translated latin sorry 😞i like my men loserish and obsessed sorry.

a/n : yasss a little halloween special. rewatching teen wolf for the third time bc idfk. is it obvious i love witch!reader's yet.

for the first time in over a decade, stiles stilinksi was bored out of his mind.

he had previously thought that given his adhd gave him a deep desire to be doing literally anything all the time that the word bored wouldn't enter his daily vocabulary until he died.

yet here he is, kicking his feet at the dead leaves on the ground as he searched for any hidden traces of wolfsbane. the only reasons this had even happened was because he had opened his big mouth too many times and was sent on a busy quest by deaton, to "make sure the surrounding areas were safe for werewolves."

just reminding himself of what led him here was enough to tick him off again. it wasn't like the past two years have been easy, being under the constant threat of werewolves, werewolf hunters, kanimas, etcetera etcetera. it was enough to stress out the most stable of adults, and stiles was the direct opposite of that, so of course he got nervous and started talking over people and pissing them off.

"stupid wolfsbane, stupid werewolves," he mumbles, kicking at more of the dead brown leaves on the forest floor, tearing a line of the familiar purple plant up from the ground and stuffing it into the brown sack in his other hand. once he was done it was likely it would either be tucked in jars in deaton's stash or burned. he wouldn't mind seeing the latter.

its another twenty moments of grumbling and scavenging before a sound in the distance stops him in his tracks. he stands still, making sure that he barely breathes before he relaxes, figuring his anger and memories are making him paranoid of the woods.

a minute later he wishes his mind was playing tricks on him, because he nears the noise again, but this this its louder.

"its closer," he thinks.

he barely even registers when his legs start running. he may have a bag full of wolfsbane, but there was no guarantee the threat was something the plant could harm. and he didn't feel like tempting fate today.

at this point he's slightly lost his direction, but when he passes the stunted redwood stump he and scott carved their names into during the fifth grade he starts to understand where he is, and as his heart beats in his hears he knows if he turns right here he'll come up onto the old willow tree-

in the span of ten seconds he smacks head on into a hard object, falling on his ass and gasping as the air is knocked from his lungs. he blinks quickly to try to rid of the black spots in his vision, and before he can comprehend it he's making eye contact with you.

he's slightly embarrassed that the first thought that races across his mind is how pretty you are. he knows he should be wary of you, but he can't help it. your hair is a rich (h/c), seeming to almost shine despite the sun being blocked by clouds. your skin is smooth and your eyes are gorgeous and big and still staring straight at him.

you both rush to stand up. he holds his hands out in a way that you would calm a wild animal, hoping it doesn't piss you off.

you continue to stare at him. which isn't helping calm down his racing pulse.

"uh, alright. look, i'm not gonna hurt you, alright? i'm just...looking for something..."

before he can finish his sentence, you raise your hands to cup the sides of his face. his words die in his mouth and he feels his cheeks warm up to the point he's surprised they haven't burned your palms. you look determined, and for a second he feels like he's gone to heaven

"convertere et perge quid agas. oblivisceris quid hic vidisti."

turn around and continue what you're doing. you will forget what you saw here.

his mouth opens and his brows scrunch in shock. he never thought those latin lessons he took online and with lydia would pay off, but he's really glad he did them now.

he considers doing what you said, just turning around and forgetting all about this encounter. but unfortunately his curiosity is getting the better of him, and if his suspicions are correct he needs to know more about you.

"i'm gonna guess you just tried to put a spell on me, right?"

your eyes widen so largely he's afraid they're going to pop out of your skull.

"i..i don't understand, that should have worked. are you a warlock? druid?"

"no, no. i'm just stiles." he tells. his guess that you were something supernatural is partially confirmed, since you know about druids and the whole tried to put a spell on him thing.

"well, stiles, unless you tell me why my spell didn't work on you i'm most likely going to have to kill you." you deadpan.

he thinks you're kidding so he eta out a strained laugh. you don't even twitch.

he wracks his brain for a good enough excuse that will save his life before his arm moves without command and thrusts the bag in your direction.

"well, i have a uh, a bag full of wolfsbane, if that matters at all. pretty sure it does since…yeah…wolfsbane”

yours eyes dart from him to the bag, most likely not trusting that their isn’t some insta-death powder that will pop out as soon as you open it, so he looses his thumbs grip and steps closer so you can see the purple herbs inside.

“hate to admit it but you’re right,” you sigh, pushing back some hair from your face. his eyes follow the movement before darting back to yours.“ that much wolfsbane would make most supernatural or magical doings wonky.”

"yes, yes! exactly. that makes sense. im sorry about that-"

"why would you even have that much wolfsbane anyway? are you a hunter?"

"what? no, no! im not, i swear to you im not a hunter. i can explain this, really i can." he nearly chokes on his words at the speed he speaks.

you stare at him for a few seconds more before crossing your arms over your chest, hopefully about to let him explain why he has a bag filled to the brim with a dangerous plant on a random afternoon.

when you start to walk directly past him into the forest he doesn’t think he’s ever been more confused.

"fine. you can explain it on the way back.”

he’s as still as a statue as he process your words. you just accused him of being a hunter and now you want him to follow you to whatever mysterious place your going? even for him this is weird, and he’s ten seconds from refusing-

“hurry up.”

he rushes to catch up behind you.

after around twenty minutes of stiles repeatedly asking where you were going followed by silence on your end, you finally reach a clearing in the woods filled by a large victorian-era house, fully black with large looming windows lit up by warm golden lighting coming from inside. there's a nearly fully glass sunroom/greenhouse on the right side, and he can see from here the varying flowers and plants that fill the room. he wants to ask how a house like this could be kept under wraps from the rest of the town, but then he remembers.

magic, duh.

you lead him through the threshold of the home and down a hallway until you arrive in what must be your living room, not giving him a chance to admire the room before you're pushing on his shoulders so he sits in a loveseat, taking your own seat across from him. your legs spread and you rest your elbows on your knees as you glare at him, causing him to shift in his seat.

"why are you carrying a bag full of wolfsbane?"

"my friend's boss, deaton. he asked me to pick up any wolfsbane in the woods to make it safer for them when they do the whole wolfing out thing."

"deaton's working with werewolves again? does he have a death wish?" your brow raises in confusion, he notes how the fingers on your right-hand scratch at the skin on your right.

"i'll be honest, you're kind of creeping me out."

"thank you. why is he doing it?"

"my friend, scott. he's a werewolf. and so are our friends erica and boyd. and derek and his weird uncle peter-"

"the fucking hale's are back? are you kidding?" a scoff leaves you and you get up out of your chair, starting to pace back and forth in front of his chair.

"yeah, it was this whole thing with peter being evil and killing his niece, and he turned scott but scott thought it was derek who turned him. it was a whole thing. not to mention how peter came back from the dead-"

you continue to walk around the room while occasionally pausing to pay attention as the boy details the events that have happened in the past year. despite you being a stranger it felt oddly cathartic to vent about everything that had happened to him. admitting to the countless times he felt scared out of his mind but had to stay strong lest his enemies take advantage of it.

"that's a lot for a normal human to go through in just a year with no prior knowledge of the supernatural. i'm surprised your brain didn't implode from the stress."

he blinks. "thanks. i guess."

"you're welcome. i'm going to make some tea. stay here," you say, moving from standing across from him to heading to a room near the side of the room, able to faintly see some dark counters and pots and herbs hanging from the ceiling, "not like you'd be able to leave anyway."

that's reassuring, stiles thinks to himself, bouncing his leg up and down where he sits. after a minute he figures you won’t kill him horrendously if hes looks around a bit, so he gets up and starts observing the countless pictures on the walls. some are old, like the people in them are wearing outfits from a few hundred years ago, while some are colored and recent. in most of the recent ones, you’re with three older women who look just as dark but ethereal as you do.

he continues looking at some pictures and hung-up trinkets when you come back into the room with two cups of tea, handing one with a smile to the wary boy with a halfhearted promise that it’s “totally not poisoned.”

“can i ask you a question?” he asks, sipping at his tea after he discovers it’s not poisoned and actually really good. he was never really fond of tea, always preferring coffee or energy drinks when he was in a low-energy period. he remembers his mom liked chamomile tea.

“you just did. but go ahead.”

“why would you let me in here? you could have just questioned me at the willow tree, you didn’t have to let me into your house. not that i don’t like your house. i like the whole victorian gothic vibe.”

you don’t answer for a solid minute, slowly drinking from your cup as you stare into the lite fireplace.

“witches pride ourselves on our knowledge. to be aware of our abilities and surroundings at all times to best stimulate our growth. and as much as i’d like to be this powerhouse who could take down any threat, i know i’m not. if you actually were powerful and i tried to take you on myself? who knows what would happen.”

“and i’m guessing that magical barrier around the house would protect you in case i really did try anything?” he gently asks, not wanting to talk too loudly to distract you from opening up to him.

“exactly. plus if you tried anything my aunts probably would have put a curse on you and your loved ones. something not too flashy to attract attention, but enough to cause great suffering.” he notices your soft sigh when you stop talking, almost like you’re disappointed you won’t get to see this suffering play out.

“plus it’s better to know where your talents excel,” you continue, setting your cup down on a skull patterned coaster on the coffee table in front of you. “i’ve always been better at using my magic to investigate my surroundings. helps to find materials or signs of psychos roaming around.”

something you two have in common. it makes his mouth quirk up.

“so, the werewolves and all the other things being back in town, that’s a problem for you and your aunts, right?”

“yup. if it was just werewolves it’d be normal for beacon hills, but kanimas and a whole pack of alphas? who knows how much that can disrupt the natural balance and what more they’ll bring.”

he thinks over his next words carefully. scott would likely be upset at first at him for trusting you, but he was also the nicest person stiles had ever met. if you could help them then it was worth the risk.

“then how about a trade. you help us with this alpha problem, and you get the experience you need to become a great and all powerful witch. pretty soon you'll be riding your broom to your heart's content."

you can’t help but scoff a laugh as you think it over. he starts to think you’re about to reject the offer as you stare him down before you get up and offer him a hand.

“you’ve got a deal.”

after shaking on it, you send the boy back with his bag of wolfsbane and a few more helpful weeds from your greenhouse, giving him a note to give to deaton so he won’t ask too many questions.

when he returns to the vets office he dumps the materials on the operating table, ignoring isaacs joke about how if he took any longer they’d all be alpha chow by now. he can tell deaton is concerned about where he got the vials of strange red and yellow herbs, but when he reads the note his eyes widen and he lets out a mix between a laugh and a sigh. scott asked insistently what was on the note but his boss refused to tell him what it said.

before he left to drive home, deaton pulled stiles to a corner and told him that he had been in close contact with one of your aunts before something happened a few years after the hale fire that caused them to go into hiding and cut contact with all supernaturals they had previously been helping, including him as the emissary of the hale family.

as he lay in bed that night staring up at his ceiling, all he could think about was you. you were a welcome distraction from the chaos of his current life, a pretty distraction at that. if not a bit scary. which he didn't mind all that much.

the both of you spent more time together in the following weeks. at first, it was just simple conversations by the willow tree talking about the werewolf situations and checking what materials deaton needed from your family. as time went on his curiosity got the best of him and he started to ask you more questions about your life.

"so hit me if this is stupid but did you have any family in salem? or can you like make a potion ina cauldron to see if I did because I could use that as massive bargaining power in fights with issac-ow! why'd you hit me?"

"you said i could."

"yeah but not so hard. jeez, ever thought of quitting this witch thing and trying boxing."

"never thought of it. maybe i should start now. with your face."

"really funny."

(your threats kind of reminded him of derek, but had less of an 'i'm about to rip your throat out and eat your esophagus vibe.' slightly.)

but as time went on it got deeper. as he told him more about himself you started to do the same, once even apologizing for "giving off psycho killer bitch vibes" and chalking it up to being so isolated from people for most of your life. he told you he didn't mind the vibes, assuring you he liked it maybe a little too excitedly.

he could really feel the shift when one day he came up to the willow tree and he saw you, standing with a frame photo in your hands and nearly on the brink of tears. he was so shocked at seeing you show such intense emotion he wasn't watching where he was going and stepped on a branch, alarming you as your head whipped to him like a deer in headlights.

"i...im sorry. i can leave if you want."

"no no, it's," you shook your head, looking down at the photo once again. "it's fine. it doesn't matter."

"well if it's enough to make you cry id say its world ending-"

"could you just shut up? for once in your life?"

it's quiet for a minute, the only sound in the air being the gentle breeze. even thought the comment stings stiles knows all too well you're just lashing out in anger and hurt.

"im sorry."

"don't apologize. i get it, i do." he moves closer until he's standing beside you, walking slowly so he doesn't make you lash out again.

he looks down at the photo and he gets it. its you, about six or seven with a bright smile on your face and standing with two people he can tell are your parents. he can see the resemblance. you have one of their smiles and hair color, the other's nose, and by their clothes, the same dark style.

"its been over ten years. since i lost them," you whisper, your voice sounding more weak than he's ever heard it. "itd be nice if I was staying with my aunts for some sabrina the teenage witch reason but no. i don't have a choice."

he gently puts a hand on your shoulder. "i get it, i do. i lost my mom. every day i remember things about her in things i do. it hurts but its better than forgetting."

you sniff and hes about to back up when you put your hand over his on your shoulder, gripping it tightly. it hurts a bit. he doesn't really care.

"its not fair."

"its not."

"...thank you."

"don't mention it."

you give him with the materials and he's about to leave when you stop him, your hand grasping his wrist. he wants to ask whats wrong but he stops. you're staring right at him, into his soul he thinks, and all he wants is to hold you and tell you any pain he's suffered the past few years is worth it because it led him to you, that even if you asked him to sacrifice himself on an alter for a spell that would make you happy for a minute he would do it-

"this bracelet. i want you to wear it and don't take it off no matter what, all right?"

hey, that works for him.

as soon as the bracelet was clasped around his wrist he felt different. like his nerves were tingling and his brain was warm. he felt like he was going to get the most powerful migraine in existence and reached to take it off when you took his hand again.

"please. just give it a minute."

and so he did.

only thirty seconds of dull pain later and he felt normal, if not better. like when you're a kid and have the best day of your life and return home to a good meal. a nice bath, and a great night's rest. he feels almost powerful.

"hey what is this thing? did you just give me powers? is this gonna make me your servant or something?"

"bye stiles."

he gives deaton the materials after telling scott where he was ignoring the weird look on his face before the boy goes back to examining an adorable beagle on the operating table.

deaton takes the bag and bottles with an appreciative smile, his eyebrows scrunching up when he notices the jewelry on stiles wrist.

"where'd you get that bracelet?"

"uhh, i found it. at a thrift shop. thought it looked cool. why?"

deaton clearly doesn't believe him but decides to entertain stiles anyway. "the band is a normal bracelet but the charms are what makes it special. they're pagan."

"could you explain them to me? just because you know."

the vet just shakes his head and laughs before pointing to each one.

"this one, the witchs knot. standard symbol for warding off evil. its mostly used as a protection charm."

stiles admires the charm, the metal silver with the symbol burned into it. it looks like a circle with a line roped in and out of four points of it.

"this, hecates wheel. a goddess of magic, as you probably already know. symbolizes the power of knowledge and life."

this charm is a bit heavier, the stone looking weathered with a scratched labyrinth engraved on it, a distinct 'x' in the middle of it.

"and this one is..." deaton starts before his words trail off. stiles looks at it. it looks like four combined circles, each with symbols inside them. the two across from each other on the side looking like two crescent moons, the one on the top holding a basic pentagram. but he doesn't recognize the one on the bottom-two perpendicular lines forming an 'x' with little swirly lines coming from the middle on the top and bottom.

"what? what does it mean? is it bad?"

"no, it's not bad at all, stiles. the crescents and pentagram are used in another basic protection spell. more protection for the user."

"and the one on the bottom?"

"well, i don't honestly know what it is. its most likely a personal sigil made by the person who made it. but by my guess, based on others I've seen before, it might mean whoever made it has a deep love and affection for whoever they gifted the bracelet to."

stiles thought he was keeping his cool, but scott made extra sure to remind him the following days and the dumbass look on his face when deaton explained the symbol to him.

he didnt know what to do. this had to mean you felt the same way he did about you, right? why else would you gift him a love sigil on a bracelet you insisted he wear? for a second he considered it was a love spell you tried to put on him, but he was feeling iffy about that. mostly about how he wouldn't care that much.

(he apparently admitted that in a sleepy haze when he was sleeping over at scotts, and he's never wanted to die more than when he woke up and realized issac of all people heard him.)

the next time he saw you he tried as hard as he could to act casual. you asked him about ten times if he was okay, and he eventually came up with a good enough 'just a slight stomach bug' lie and regretted it immensely when you invited him back to your house, telling him you'd been practicing making simple health remedies and you had the perfect thing to fix him.

the whole walk to your house he was on edge, his palms feeling sweaty for the first time in his life as he repeatedly wiped them off on his pants. just like the first meeting, you tell him to wait on the couch and he lets out a shaky breath when you leave into the kitchen.

what does he do? does he confess? does he need to? he was so scared that he was being too obvious and maybe that's why you put the sigil on the bracelet, to let him know you returned his affections. but what is he wasn't obvious? and he was basically telling you he only liked you because you liked him? what if-

"stop staring into space and drink this tea, dummy."

he laughs awkwardly and takes the ornate cup from your hand, sniffing the tea before he drinks it. it's sweet but savory, smelling like nutmeg and milk. he can see little flakes and leaves floating on the top. he takes a sip and hums at the taste.

"screw boxing, you should be a professional chef. i'm gonna need you to give me this recipe."

"yeah right. a witch never reveals her secrets." you scoff before sitting down next to him on the couch. you put your arm up on the back and rest your head on your wrist as you cross your legs, your foot brushing against his leg. he nearly spills the tea over his lap.

he can't help but admire you. he had given you a few magazines he'd gotten from stores and stuff to better show you how people were dressing these days, and while you'd hated most of it you took to some trends, wearing a pair of black ripped skinny jeans and a pair of combat boots. he tried to focus on the rips in your jeans as to not let his eyes wander up, where you were wearing a leather halter camisole with nothing underneath. he can't help but laugh in his head when he thinks of the word camisole. maybe he was spending too much time around lydia.

"stiles? seriously are you possessed or something? normally you'd be talking my ear off trying to guess exactly what ingredients i used for the tea."

he sets the cup down after taking another long sip and turns his body to you, your eyebrows raising in what he can tell is amusement. most people could easily get annoyed by his theatrics, but after your near trauma bonding at the willow tree, you had always made sure to welcome them with a smile.

"look, i have something to say. which you probably already know, but i need to say it to you anyway to make sure you really know, y'know?"

you blink. "go ahead."

he breathes in and out a few times, his previous confidence suddenly disappearing.

"let me guess, you saw the sigil and now you're going to confess your love to me?"

he goes into a near coughing fit.

"how, well thanks because now i dont have to actually say it, but if you had given me a minute-"

before he knows it you're scooting closer, your faces just a few inches apart. you're staring at him with that same look you had when you gave him the bracelet. his breath is picking up and he bites his bottom lip, your eyes darting to the motion.

"can i kiss you?"

"yes, god yes-"

your hand grips his chin and brings his lips to yours, the intensity and plushness of it nearly driving him insane. he doesn't really know what to do with his hands, settling to just keep them on his lap before your other hand brings them to your waist and squeezes them in place. at this point you're nearly on his lap and that combined with the kiss and the fact he swears he just felt your tongue poke his lip is going to be the death of him.

he pulls away from the kiss and kneads his hands on your hips, able to feel the softness of your skin on the places where the camisole lifts up.

"wow. i mean just...arent you a recluse? where'd you learn to kiss like that? have you like, conjured up clones to practice with or something."

"stiles?"

"yeah?"

"shut up and kiss me again."

"whatever you say, babe."

for the first time in his life, stiles stilinksi thinks everything is gonna work out.

ty for reading! had to tell myself to get up off my ass and write at 3am and wrote about half of this so sorry for any dialogue inconsistencies. love you bye bye.

#teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #stiles #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski x witch reader #stiles x reader #witch reader #witch!reader #deaton #scott mcall

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fairytales-and-folklore · 2 months ago

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Maximum Suction

Teen Wolf » Sterek

Title: Maximum Suction

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Teen Wolf (Masterlist)

Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: Comparing your oral skills to the highest setting on your boyfriend's vacuum cleaner is certainly an interesting way to announce to your entire group of friends that you're secretly dating.

Derek glares at the pair of them and makes a show out of turning the vacuum up to maximum suction so it's running even louder than it was before, but he barely has a moment to bask in his petty victory before the decrepit old thing splutters and shuts off. "Not again," Derek groans. "I'm not sure what's wrong with it, but lately, it only lasts about a minute on max succ." Stiles, who's been engrossed in a game of I Love Hue on his phone the entire time, huffs out an amused snort of laughter, and without missing a beat, blurts out, "Derek only lasts about a minute on max succ." It takes Stiles a few seconds for his brain to catch up with his mouth, and then he's blushing brighter than a summer sunburn, sinking down into the couch cushions like he's hoping they'll swallow him whole, while Derek stands in the far corner, frozen to the spot with half a vacuum cable wrapped around his shoulder, the tips of his ears burning bright red.

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Derek's never really had a place of his own to call home, so when he finally buys a house — a cozy little two-bedroom cottage overlooking the forest — he becomes a little overzealous about wanting to keep it looking clean and tidy. An impossible task when you've got the human equivalent of a tornado for a boyfriend and pack of werewolves who double as college students sprawled across your living room couch, stuffing their faces with doritos every other night. Still, he tries.

Said pack of miscreants have somehow managed to get crushed up oreo bits embedded into his carpet in their pre-movie marathon snack rush, and Derek is having a hell of a time trying to get them out before they leave a stain. He drags his ancient piece of shit vacuum over the same spot a dozen times, but all it seems to do is just volley the crumbs from one end of the carpet to the other. It quite literally doesn't suck, and that's the problem.

"Derek," Erica whines around a mouthful of chocolate-covered pretzels, spraying them all over his freshly polished coffee table. "Do you have to do that right now? We're not gonna be able to hear the opening credits."

"Seriously, the world's not gonna end if you leave one speck of dirt on your precious pristine carpet," Jackson teases, dropping his glass back down onto the coffee table without a coaster like a fucking monster.

"Not again," Derek groans, sighing in defeat as he jiggles the cord out of the socket and begins the tiresome process of wrapping it back up.

"What's wrong with it? Anything I can do to help?" Kira asks, because she's the only one polite enough to pretend she actually cares.

"Not sure," Derek replies. "But lately, it only lasts about a minute on max succ."

Stiles, who's been engrossed in a game of I Love Hue on his phone the entire time, huffs out an amused snort of laughter, and without missing a beat, blurts out, "Derek only lasts about a minute on max succ."

It takes Stiles a few seconds for his brain to catch up with his mouth, and then he's blushing brighter than a summer sunburn, sinking down into the couch cushions like he's hoping they'll swallow him whole, while Derek stands in the far corner, frozen to the spot with half a vacuum cable wrapped around his shoulder, the tips of his ears burning bright red.

The whole room goes silent, everyone staring back and forth between the two of them in varying states of shock. Erica looks like Christmas has come early, a broad, red-lipped smile to rival the Cheshire Cat curling across her face. Scott looks like he just walked in on his parents having sex and doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Jackson just rolls his eyes, whips out his wallet, and hands Boyd and Isaac $20.

"Well," Derek says around a sheepish smile. "That's one way to tell the rest of the pack that we're dating."

#teen wolf #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fanfiction #sterek fanfiction #maximum suction #fairytalesandfolklore #fairytales-and-folklore #fairytalesandfolklore fanfiction #fairytalesandfolklore teen wolf #fairytalesandfolklore sterek

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the-bat-writes-imagines · 5 months ago

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Scars - Part 1

Fandom: Teen Wolf (Soulmate AU)

Pairing: Derek Hale x Reader

Story Type: Angst/Fluff

Warnings: Violence, Discussion of Past Trauma, Reader with Visible Facial Scar

Summary: Soulmate!AU Where werewolves can have soulmates, and they can feel each other's pain. It's very subtle until you're near each other, then the closer you are the stronger it becomes. This will only stop once soulmates have their first kiss. The reader is Derek's Soulmate and moves to town to teach chemistry at the local high school. Derek knows who you are as soon as he sees you because of a distinctive scar, but he is afraid to let you know. Of course, it becomes harder and harder for him to hide it.

First day as a teacher, no big deal, right? Nope, it's going to be easy! At least that's what you keep telling yourself. Except somehow this feels exactly like walking into high school for the first day did. Which means you are literally shaking with nerves as you down your second cup of coffee and make your way into the chemistry lab. This is your first ever real teaching job. No more TA'ing for a middle school science teacher, no more grad school classes. This is it. You are responsible for whether or not these kids succeed in this class. That pressure coupled with the fact that your predecessor was murdered by serial killer the previous semester really was not making it easy to put forth a facade of calm.

Then there was the scar. It ran from just below your left eye, down your cheek to just under your chin. Almost like a tear running down your face. You didn't like talking about how you got it, it's a horrible memory to relive. You can handle people staring at it and even talking about it behind your back. As long as you don't have to tell them how you got it. You concocted a lie with your friend years ago about getting scraped by a nail in broken fence post. It may not have been a perfect lie, but once you made it clear the story was boring people usually stopped asking about it.

You shake out your shoulders trying to pull your focus back to the task at hand. You write your name on the board in chalk and turn to arrange the few items that you brought on your desk. As you're placing your last desk trinket, a little rock with a wolf painted on it gifted to you by a student from your TA class, the first few students start to filter in. You smile at them as they enter the classroom. Once the bell rings it's showtime.

"Welcome everyone! My name is Miss (Y/L/N) and I am going to let you in on a little secret." You take a quick breath looking around at the class. "You are my very first class. So, I'm going to make a deal with you. You take it easy on me and I'll make none of my quizzes pop quizzes, I'll let you pick your own partners for any collaborative work, and I will keep the number of class presentations to the absolute minimum required by the accreditation guidelines. Deal?" You ask. A few of you students look around at each other before a boy in the back with slightly spikey hair speaks up.

"I mean, sounds like a pretty good deal to me!" He says and the other students either mumble their agreement or nod their heads. "Alright, looks like we're in agreement. Stiles, by the way. Under Stilinski, on the attendance sheet there." He introduces himself. You look down at the sheet to check off his name and are immediately glad he introduced himself. There's no way you would have been able to pronounce his actual first name.

"Alright, that's one off the list. Let's find out who the rest of you are." You start going through attendance.

The rest of class goes well, and you are already feeling better about taking this job. No one asks about the scar. As nervous as you have been it feels right to be here for some reason. Little do you know just how much you really are meant to be here.

...

You are woken in the middle of the night by a pain raking its way through your chest. You sit up nearly in tears due to the pain. You have had these pains for as long as you can remember. They pop up often and have seemingly no rhyme or reason. The only explanation a doctor could give you was a mild nerve condition. Since there was nothing else that could explain it and the pain was usually very mild you accepted it and learned to live with the occasional pain. However, this was significantly more painful than ever before. As you consider making a trip to urgent care the pain starts to fade leaving you with a mild tingling feeling across your skin. Just like all of the other times. So maybe no trip to urgent care, but you make a mental note to set up an appointment with you doctor to talk about your nerve condition getting worse.

...

Your first few weeks at Beacon Hills High School have been going well, and you are starting to feel at home. Tonight is one of the first lacrosse games of the season and you got invited by a couple of your fellow teachers. You are making your way to the stands to meet up with your coworkers when you run into someone.

"Oh! I'm sorry, excuse me." You apologize quickly.

"No that's my bad! I'm sorry." He responds. You finally look up at the man in front and you and he is easily one of the most beautiful men you have ever seen. You almost forget how to speak when you look into those eyes of his. He is staring back at you. He looks caught off guard, almost even a little scared?

"Umm... I'm (Y/N)." You say, extending your hand, hoping to politely break the tension.

"I...I'm Derek." He stutters back before taking your hand. He shakes your hand slowly, still looking kind of shell shocked. It takes a noticeably long time for him to release your hand. "Umm... What brings you to the game?" He gestures at the field.

"Oh, um, I am a teacher at the school and a bunch of us thought it would be nice to support our students on the team and get into the spirit." You tuck your hands into your coat pockets trying to hide your nerves talking to him. "What about you? You look a bit young to be a parent and I think I would have noticed you around school before." You panic as you realize how that sounds. "Not that you're super noticeable..." oops! overcorrected! "I mean your noticeable, just I... What I mean is it's not a big school. I've met everyone on the staff." You make eye contact with him knowing you are bright red with embarrassment. He chuckles softly, smiling at you.

"I'm here to support a friend. Scott McCall. I'm sort of friend slash mentor of his so I come to the games occasionally."

"Oh, that's nice of you." You respond. Lame you think to yourself immediately.

"Yeah, I guess." He pauses. "I should let you get back to your coworkers." He takes a step by to that you can pass him.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks." You say as you step past him. "Enjoy the game."

"You too." He smiles gently again before walking away from the stands and toward the players.

You join your coworkers at their place in the stands, accepting a warm cup of cider from Mrs. Martin. The next couple of hours pass quickly as you watch the game. Every so often you feel drawn toward the front of the stands. Whenever you look down toward the front your eyes immediately fall on Derek sitting with the sheriff and a dark-haired woman that, if you had to guess, you would say is Scott's mom. You count yourself doing this no less than fifteen times over the course of the game. During several of these glances though, you catch Derek looking back up at you. He looks away quickly and so do you. Mrs. Martin elbows you gently to get you attention. When you look at her, she's smirking at you.

"Finding another reason to like Beacon Hills?" She nods in Derek's general direction. You blush immediately.

"Maybe..." You mumble, suddenly very interested in your now empty cider cup. She chuckles at you before turning back to the game.

...

Derek's POV

Goddamnit! He thinks to himself as he walks away from you and toward Scott. Derek had never really thought much of the soulmate bond he had. He barely felt any pain from his other half, and it was almost always so faint. He figured you had to be far enough away that you would likely never meet. Then, when things are at their worst you show up.

He would recognize you anywhere. He remembered the night you got that scar. It was nearly a decade ago, but he never forgot the way that hurt. Whatever made that cut moved slow and ran deep. It hurt him more than any other pain from the bond had, it had to have been agonizing for you.

The fact that you had come to town now felt ominous. Derek was losing his power, there were assassins hunting down supernaturals all over beacon hills and now you were in the middle of it. Then there was the thing he had not been expecting when he met his soulmate for the first time; you were not a werewolf, you were human.

All of this is swirling around Derek's head, distracting him. He almost ran directly into Scott. Scott put out a hand to stop him.

"Whoa, Derek. What's up?" He asks.

"Yeah man, you look like someone shit in your cereal." Stiles adds. Derek just glares back at him for a moment before turning back to Scott.

"Do you remember what I told you about werewolves sometimes having soulmates?" He asks Scott.

"Vaguely." Scott replies. "You told me it was very rare, and that soulmates could feel each other's pain, but only like a little bit. Until they get close then it gets stronger." Scott shakes his head. "But that's it. I don't really remember anything else."

"Did I tell you that I have one?" Derek asks.

"WHAT?!?!" Scott and Stiles shout at the same time, garnering the attention of several of their teammates.

"Keep your voices down!" Derek growls.

"Sorry. It's just, you definitely didn't mention that." Scott responds much more quietly.

"Yeah, well I didn't think it was ever going to come up, until now."

"Why are you telling us now?" Stiles asks him.

"Because she's here." The eyes of both Scott and Stiles bug out in surprise.

"You mean here right now?" Stiles points at the ground in disbelief. "Here? At this game?"

"Yes, I literally just walked into her on the way over here."

"Where?" Scott asks as both he and Stiles start looking around over Derek's shoulder.

"At the base of the stands. She said she was meeting up with her fellow teachers to watch the game." He sighs.

"Wait, she's a teacher?" Scott responds.

"Yes, she is." He looks over his shoulder quickly to see where you ended up sitting. He turns back to the boys. "She's up in the fifth row, next to Lydia's mother. She has a scar."

"Miss (Y/L/N), the new chemistry teacher?" Stiles is looking repeatedly between Derek and you in the stands as he speaks.

"(Y/N)." Dereks says your name quietly, almost to himself.

"She's your soulmate? Our chemistry teacher is your soulmate?" Stiles' words are still riddled in disbelief. "How do you know?"

"The scar. I remember the night it happened. I knew who she was the second I saw it."

"But wait, if she's a wolf, shouldn't the injury have healed without leaving a scar?" Scott looks like he trying to do complex math thinking about it.

"That's just the thing Scott. She's not a wolf." Derek shakes his head. "I could tell the second I smelled her, she's human."

"So, does she know about us? About everything?" Scotts asks. Derek shakes hid again.

"I don't know. I doubt it. Most people don't grow up knowing about our world unless they're in it." Derek looks back over his shoulder at you. "I don't think she knows anything." He turns back to the boys. "And it's going to stay that way." He adds sternly.

"What? Why?" Scott is shocked.

"Why? Look around us Scott. We are constantly fighting for our lives. There are hired killers all around this town hunting us. If she's not involved, I'm not dragging her in to get her killed." Derek's voice rises a bit as he speaks.

"Well, if she's human, then the hired killers won't be after her. Right?" Stiles adds, unhelpfully. Derek glares at him.

"She may not be on the Dead Pool, but do you think any one of the people hunting us wouldn't be willing to hurt her to get to me if they had the chance?" Derek snarls at him.

"Well, when you put it that way, no. I don't think any of them would have a moral crisis over it." Stiles looks a little ashamed as he answers.

"So, what? Are you just not going to tell her about any of it?" Scotts gestures generally around he asks. Then he points to Derek. "Not even your bond?"

"No, it's better if I leave her be." Derek says. He didn't know this was where the conversation was going to go when he told Scott about you, but he knows it is the right choice. Bringing you into this would get you killed. He cannot do that.

Before the boys have time to respond they are cut off by a sharp whistle.

"Stilinski! McCall! On the field, now!!" Coach's aggravated voice rings out. It's clear neither Scott nor Stiles wants to end the conversation here.

"Go." Derek says, before turning to go back and join Melissa and Noah in the stands. He sits next to Melissa. All throughout the game he is trying to make himself forget where you're sitting. Trying not to think about you, just a few rows away. He can't help it though. He keeps looking up to where you are. Physically unable to stop himself. A few times he even catches your eye and has to look away immediately.

One thing was very clear to him; leaving you alone was going to be very, very hard for him.

#teen wolf imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #derek hale #derek hale imagine #derek hale x reader #derek hale x you #fandom imagine #fandom imagines #headcanon #fandom headcanon #fandom headcanons #soulmates #imagine #derek hale headcanon #soulmate au

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voidboymads · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! Love your writing! For the Steter prompts: 5 Times Peter wasn’t so sure Stiles was Left Hand material + 1 Time he was sure (and aroused by it). Hope it’s not too long to write! Cheers 🖤

hoooooo I apologize for the long wait but here it is! this was my first time writing a 5 + 1 fic so I hope it's good >.<!

When the pack files into the loft a few hours after leaving to deal with the threat in the forest, they look sullen and downtrodden.

It’s not difficult to see why when a few of them, the humans mostly, look pretty banged up and broken. “Trouble out in the woods?” Peter comments, casually leaning back on the spiral stairway. He doesn’t mean to be an ass, but if they’re stupid enough to come back in pieces, it feels only natural to rub salt in both their literal and metaphorical wounds.

Scott is the first to roll his eyes, and then Lydia and yada yada yada - down the line it goes until Stiles. Stiles doesn’t roll his eyes, though. Instead, he stares at Peter a second longer than he normally affords him, and something in the way his disjointed gaze glides away from him tells Peter that he was right in telling them that taking on the big baddie directly was a mistake.

Derek strolls in, looking a little worse for wear - and a little peeved, but otherwise relatively unscathed. “Thanks for the help,” He grumbles sarcastically, crashing on his couch with an attitude and a huff.

“You’re welcome,” Peter chimes, pulling himself up and off the stairs. There’s no reason to gloat or toss in an ‘I told you so’ but he does it anyway. “If you had just listened - ”

Stiles groans nearby, rotating a shoulder until something clicks. “Why didn’t you just do it then, mister ‘I know everything’? Hm?” He’s strung out and possibly feeling the worst of the embarrassment for the fumble that was tonight. As he should. Peter doesn’t just speak out of his ass when it concerns the pack and he expects a little bit more from Stiles. He’s supposed to be the clever one.

“If I did everything around here, none of you would learn that my way is always the most efficient way.”

———

“Can I help you?” Peter leans against the threshold of his front door. It’s unusual for a member of the pack to visit him at home, so he hopes he’s conveying the proper amount of annoyance at finding one standing before him.

Even if it’s Stiles Stilinski.

“I need help,” Stiles mumbles, surveying the hallway on both sides. There’s no threat, but Peter patiently waits for those beautiful brown eyes to find him again.

He grins. “Sorry, didn’t catch that.”

Those same brown eyes roll so far back in Stiles’ head that he’s close to losing them, but they roll back just fine as he finds the ability to speak up after a lengthy, heavy sigh. “I said, I need some help.”

“Well, then you’ve come to the right place. Please, come on in.” It’s supposed to sound as threatening as it should, but Peter almost immediately distances himself from Stiles as they pass into the apartment.

The door shuts quietly behind him, but it spikes Stiles’ anxiety to the ceiling. Good.

“Derek won’t listen to me about this guy, and I figured you’d be able to talk some sense into him.”

Peter hums, watching Stiles awkwardly shuffle beyond the foyer. “I’m not sure I’ll get anywhere close to convincing him. You all have a point of not listening to me.”

Stiles turns on his heel, an angry but eager look on his face. “I’m listening now.”

“And that’s a very good first step. But really, it’s the next step you keep tripping over.” He chooses to take a few steps towards Stiles, watching as the young man straightens his posture in an act to seem bigger.

In the years he’s been watching the members of the pack age, Stiles Stilinski finally grew into some impressive twink muscles. It still doesn’t help, though. All of them just look so small to Peter.

“Murder can’t just be the end all to our problems.” That eagerness is slowly slipping into frustration, but Peter still finds this amusing.

He grins again. “Yes, it is. It’s actually a very effective end all because once they’re dead, the threat is gone.”

Stiles makes some noise between a scoff and a disbelieving squawk. “And the after effects?”

“If you’re good at it, there shouldn’t be any.” It’s really quite simple. Peter can see that Stiles understands, but there’s something else there that’s holding him back. Presumably, a bratty best friend and a stubborn alpha.

“Ugh, never mind. I shouldn’t have come here in the first place.” Stiles makes for the door, hand on the knob before he turns around. “This was the biggest mistake I could have made,” He says over his shoulder.

“Give it a few hours. I’m sure you’ll find some other way to fuck this one up.” Peter waves him off, an amusing smirk on his lips as the door slams behind Stiles’ retreating form.

———

“You have a problem.” Peter picks at a fluff on his shirt, tossing it aside as he languishes across Derek’s couch. His own furniture is far more comfortable than Derek’s, but if he wants to be able to bend the other’s ear, he has to suffer with mediocrity for a little while longer.

“And that would be?” Derek sighs, pouring himself over a map laid out on his table. He’s been intensely staring at it for a few hours, hardly even looking up to acknowledge Peter when he walked in earlier.

Peter looks up at the ceiling of the loft, his fingers drumming an unknown beat on his stomach. “You have a weak spoke in your wheel.”

For a minute, there’s silence. Peter wonders if he’s going to get a response at all but then Derek turns around, curiosity peaked with a cocked, thick brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Stiles.” He shouldn’t have to elaborate, but Derek is looking at him like he requires more information, so Peter huffs a burdened sigh and sits up. “You’re letting him go to waste with all this morality you and Derek Jr. are touting.”

Derek’s gaze narrows at Peter, pointedly conveying that this isn’t something Derek wants to talk about. It’s no surprise to Peter. Broaching a subject such as this wasn’t exactly on his bingo card for things he desired for the pack. Stuff like this is meant to be kept in the shadows. A place a wolf has no qualms occupying. But Stiles isn’t a wolf, yet wasted all the same for his potential. “Peter, there are rules - stipulations to belonging to this pack. You know that, and you’ve known that since I let you back in.”

Peter scoffs, a smarmy smile plastered on his face as he shakes his head. “Right.” He stands, eyeing the large metal door. “How could I forget the distance an arm’s length with you is. Practically a football field between us.” Derek doesn’t bother to say anything else, and that’s all Peter needs to take his leave.

———

“What did you do? Peter! What did - ”

Stiles is red in the face - and everywhere else. It can’t be helped since he was in the splash zone, but Stiles is so angry that it just looks like the Kool-Aid man is yelling at him.

Peter can’t help but huff a chuckle. The fight wasn’t too difficult, but it certainly was tiring. Even after years of training, of always being prepared for a rough rumble, it still knocks the wind out of Peter occasionally. Maybe he’s getting too old for this. Which is precisely why he dragged Stiles along with him.

“If you have time to stand there and gawk, you have time to help me bury the body.” He moves to grab the shoulders of the lifeless corpse at his feet, unbothered and uninterested in what a dead fairy looks like. It definitely loses its glow when it loses its life, but who cares? It wasn’t a nice fellow by all means and after tracking it for about a few days while it tracked unsuspecting townspeople, it was time to slit its throat.

“Is this why you called me out here!?” It’s funny that Stiles is whispering because there’s no one else around but the three of them. Well - the two of them now. He ends up moving to help Peter lift the body anyway, but they don’t move very far, just far enough that there’s room to dig.

Peter drops the body near the spot he’s picked and quickly gets to work digging with his bare hands. “Think of it as a training exercise.” He grabs handfuls of dirt and breaks the ground until it’s a sizable enough hole. Stiles is fidgeting something awful above ground, glancing around him like the law is on their heels. “You’re father isn’t going to find you here.”

Stiles kicks dirt over the edge. “How the fuck would you know? Hurry up before someone sees.” By someone, he means Derek, but Derek is busy dealing with another issue on the other side of town. One that is unavoidable. It made the perfect distraction for this.

“Here.” Peter reaches up. “Slide it over here.”

“I’m pretty sure ‘it’ has a name.” But Stiles is dragging it over to the pit all the same. Peter grabs an arm and pulls it down. He doesn’t need to finesse it - it’s not like the fairy is going to wake up and be offended for being dumped in a hole in the forest.

Peter sighs, climbing up and out of the pit. “Why didn’t I think to ask that before I slashed their vocal cords?” Stiles shudders next to him, so Peter rolls his eyes in response. “Honestly, this is getting annoying. Stay and help me cover it up, or leave and run to Daddy Derek. I don’t care.” He doesn’t bother wasting time watching Stiles make a choice. He has dirt to shovel back into place.

Quietly, Stiles inches near him and starts shoving dirt over the edge with his foot. He’s grumbling, but at least he’s making an effort.

———

It’s impressive, really, that Stiles hasn’t said one word to Derek about their little murder-cover-up tryst in the woods. It’s been a few hours, and even though Stiles appears not to have gotten much sleep over it, he doesn’t look ready to spill the beans.

“Stiles, you should have been there!” Scott exclaims as the pack divulges their recent fight. “A whole pack of them and Derek managed to make them stand down and turn away with their tails between their legs.”

“How formidable,” Peter comments, and while it earns him a few heads turning in his direction, it goes mostly uncared for by the rest of them. Except for Stiles, who is glancing at him a few seconds longer than anyone else again. Peter shoots a grin at him, but then Stiles turns away and ignores him for the rest of the meeting.

Derek catches his eye at some point, but Peter doesn’t say a thing. Even if Derek senses something off - an uptick in Stiles’ heartbeat or smell the sweat just beginning to push through Stiles’ pores - he won’t say a thing about it. Derek can remind Peter of the rules of the pack but there’s only so much the hypocrite will enforce. Not when it gives results and everyone else is none the wiser.

It’s only later, when Peter is leaving the building, that Stiles confronts him near where his jeep is parked. Normally, Peter wouldn’t stop to listen, except something tells him that Stiles has something important to say.

“You were right,” Stiles mumbles and damn if that doesn’t stir something inside of Peter. Call it excitement, arousal, or just an incredibly high-piqued interest, but Peter smirks all the same and crowds Stiles near the driver’s side door.

“I love those words. Makes my teeth tingle.” Stiles is looking up at him like his fangs might drop, and maybe they should for emphasis, but Peter likes the anxiety rising in Stiles at the anticipation. “Say them again.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but that’s typical. Despite the flush beneath his cheeks and the hammering of his heart, Peter doesn’t expect to win Stiles over completely to the grey side. It takes time, and Peter is patient. Horny. But also patient. “Omitting the truth is still lying. It doesn’t matter if you’re right; it doesn’t feel right to keep this from the others.”

Peter shrugs and takes an experimental step forward. “Guys like us weren’t made for the big leagues, Stiles.” Stiles presses up against the door to the Jeep. “Maybe once I had aspirations of being top dog, but I like riding the bench. It’s much safer, and I get to see the bigger picture.”

“I’d rather be short-sighted if it meant I wouldn’t have to be alone.” Hm. Wise words. No less should be expected of Stiles Stilinski. So Peter takes another step, and another until there’s barely any room between the two now. Mere inches sit in the thin line Peter has created, and Stiles can’t seem to regulate his breathing the closer Peter gets.

Fuck. They could banter back and forth for a millennium, and Peter wouldn't mind sporting a hard-on the entire time if it meant eternity with this quick-witted fool. “You won’t be, darling. You’ll have me.” And before the little protege can do more than open his mouth to protest, Peter grabs a handful of plaid and pulls Stiles in for a very heated exchange.

#steter #steter fic #steter ficlet #steter prompt #fic prompt #5 + 1 steter #5 + 1 fic #stiles stilinski #peter hale #I hope you all like this one!#it took my way longer than I wanted to write it but its here!#I'd love to hear some feedback and critique for my first ever 5 + 1 fic :3

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theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming · 4 months ago

Text

Welcome to the first installment of:

Nicole Reads A Lot of Fanfiction (and she's gonna share it with you): Week 1

We've got a little bit of everything this week: A/B/O, Sex Pollen, Codas, Boys being Dumb™.

Below you'll find Sterek (3), Buddie (12), and BuddieTommy (2) (in that order and split by headers). Will I keep up with this on a weekly basis like I want to? Stick around and find out :)

Beyond The Canyon Nook by raisesomehale/@raisesomehale (2023•T•7.3K)

Stiles has retrieved countless children from the shadows. But Eli is the first child Stiles has found alone.

Stilinski's Home for Wayward Wolves by owlpostagain/@thegloryof (2013•T•35.1K)

“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.” “There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly. Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding: DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him --- Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

One life stand by Vendelin/@ljummen (2017•E•84.2K)

Stiles is used to selling himself to make ends meet. But it's getting harder to keep those ends meeting, and there's only so much of Stiles to go around. Until a too-fancy car shows up in his neighborhood, and he meets Derek Hale. All Derek wants is Stiles's time, someone to stay on his arm for events and smile for the cameras. It's the easiest job Stiles has ever had, the best-paying one he's ever had, and he's more than happy to sign up. Derek is everything and nothing Stiles expects him to be, with his tailored suits, sharp mind and his quiet way of caring. But it's just a job and Stiles never meant to fall in love.

the distance to the stars by cloudydaisies (2020•GA•27K)

“Didn’t know you were seeing someone.” Buck just laughs. Like, honest to god giggles. Eddie is stuck fighting off doubly massive waves of butterflies and confusion, all while Buck just gazes down at him. “That’s cute,” he hears Buck mumble, just before climbing into the truck, calling Eddie after him. - or, everyone knows eddie is dating buck except for eddie, literally.

wake up, boy, you're far from home by Daisies_and_Briars/@cal-daisies-and-briars (2024•E•23.7K)

Eddie is miserable in El Paso, having seemingly made things worse. Buck is miserable in Los Angeles, without him. When Buck agrees to go home to Hershey for the holidays, everything implodes.

stranger sunlight, still by mmtion/@mmtions (2022•E•64.5K)

When the 118 find out about Buck’s secret thirst account on Instagram – to raise fire safety awareness, obviously – they make fun of him the appropriate amount and move on. Eddie, who has had some recent and birthmark-shaped revelations about his feelings, finds it a little harder to do the same. Of course, Eddie would never invade Buck’s privacy by searching for and finding the anonymous account. Or looking at all the uploaded photos late at night. Or even directly messaging Buck’s secret account. That would be weird, because he’s certainly not planning on doing anything about his newfound attraction. However, anonymous account @ elbombero118 has no such limitations.

the forms of things unknown by glorious_spoon/@glorious-spoon (2024•E•13K)

Buck's mind goes blank: suddenly and perfectly blank like a briskly shaken Etch A Sketch, the tracks of his thoughts swept clean. Eddie's mouth is on his. Eddie's nose bumps his nose, and his stubble rasps, and Eddie is kissing him. And this is probably a bad idea. The thought surfaces briefly. This is probably a bad idea. They don't do this. They haven't talked about this. Until thirty seconds ago, he was perfectly certain that Eddie was straight. - Or: Eddie's love life gets some supernatural meddling.

If Only In My Dreams by songbvrd/@songbvrd (2025•GA•9.2K)

When he was 26, Buck had his first genuinely transformative relationship. She was smart, kind and more mature than him. She looked at him and it made him feel like maybe he mattered. When she told him she needed to go find herself, he promised to wait. He waited for months, living like a ghost in her abandoned home, before finally walking away, humiliated and abandoned, finally realising the love he'd felt had been one-sided. All of this to say, Evan Buckley had never been good at knowing when to let go of things. So when Eddie Diaz told him on a chilly Friday afternoon that he had put his house on the market and started packing, Buck told himself that this time, he wasn't going to cling to someone trying to leave him behind. This time, Buck would understand what rejection looked like, and he would let someone he loved walk away with dignity. OR - Eddie moves to El Paso a month before Christmas. Buck goes a little bit insane about it.

the rush of slumber party kissing by butchdiaz/@butchdiaz (2024•M•3.2K)

“Okay, Uh—“ he racks his brain for something else Buck has done that he hasn’t. “Never have I ever kissed a man.” Buck doesn't put his finger down, just cocks his head curiously. “Damn, six months without even a kiss, no wonder Tommy left.” Eddie mutters half under his breath. It causes Buck to snap out of his daze and give him a half-hearted middle finger. He’s still thinking, though, eyebrows scrunched together in that adorable way they used to whenever he tried to help Chris with his elementary school math homework. “What, Buck?” “Never?” Buck asks. “No?” Eddie answers. He doesn't know why it comes out as a question. Buck sits up sharply, swinging his legs over the bed and leaning forward like this is suddenly the most important conversation in the world. “Not even like…in the army?” “No, Buck.” Eddie feels his cheeks heat under his scrutiny. “Huh.” He’s staring, eyes piercing into Eddie's fucking soul. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Snickerdoodles of Longing by ElvenSorceress/@elvensorceress (2024•E•52.1K)

Eddie piles up all his baking supplies and tells him, “All yours. Whatever you want to make. I’ll get more of anything if you need it. We should have plenty of flour though. I got you five bags.” Buck’s head snaps toward him. “Five bags? You got me five bags of flour? The little two pound ones, right? Or the five pounders?” “No, the tens. Like that one.” “You bought me fifty pounds of flour?” “You’re the one who decided his coping mechanism for loneliness was snickerdoodles and sourdough. I’m just being supportive. Since you’re my wingman and I’m yours or whatever you said when you stole my tablet and my realtor call.” Buck smirks. “More like saved your call.” More like saved Eddie’s everything but who’s counting? ~ Eddie decides he needs to move to Texas and slowly unravels as he comes to terms with how he really feels and what he's losing.

Alphas Being Alphas by Nigellica (2024•E[there's no smut idk why it's rated E]•1.9K)

Chris doesn't want Buck picking him up from school and Eddie has no idea why. Until he hears them. Then he knows exactly why. He just has to figure out how to talk to Buck about it

Buck Naked by disasterbuck/@disasterbuck (2025•T•941w)

Eddie finds it difficult to talk about his feelings because it always leaves him far too vulnerable and exposed. So, when he finally decides it's time to tell Buck how he feels, he has a plan to get them both on equal footing. - Buck turned, slicking his wet hair back, and then yelped and covered himself comically with his hands when he saw Eddie standing there. "Eddie!" he exclaimed, his face turning red. "I'm naked!" "Obviously," Eddie replied.

honey came in and she caught me red-handed by lizzybizzyzzz/@lizzybizzyzzz (2024•E•9.3K)

From: Buck Buckley, 4:42pm Come over and fuck me From: Buck Buckley, 4:45pm [1 Image Attached] From: Buck Buckley, 4:45pm [1 Image Attached] From: Buck Buckley, 4:45pm [1 Image Attached] From: Buck Buckley, 4:46pm Don’t keep me waiting or I’ll start without you. He’s in a grocery store, for fuck’s sake. In the produce section. Staring at broccolini. Eddie swipes away from the conversation and shoves his phone into his pocket. He swallows down the whine that threatens to permeate the innocent air of the store, and with clammy hands, pushes his cart to self-checkout so none of these poor cashiers ask if he's having a medical emergency from how red his face is. Is he drooling? He doesn’t think he’s drooling – at least, not from the mouth. On autopilot, he loads his thankfully non-perishable groceries into his backseat and navigates his vehicle safely and calmly through the winding downtown streets to Buck’s apartment. or, buck accidentally sends eddie nudes; they fuck it out

not a single day goes by where you don't cross my mind by babyslutbuck/@babyslutbuck (2024•GA•5.7K)

Buck doesn't make a full recovery after the lightning strike. Eddie is there.

rearview blues by clytemnestra/@clytemnestraaa (2024•E•16.5K)

“Eddie,” Buck says, too fast, he sounds strange. “You picked up. Sorry it’s. It’s late I know I just. I’ve been thinking a lot-” “My kid won’t talk to me, my parents want full custody, and I fucked a married man,” Eddie says. Buck is quiet. “Can you…” He says after a minute. “Can you run that by me again?” - Eddie Diaz is not having a great time in El Paso.

Sunlight by DarkAliceLilith/@dark-alice-lilith (2025•T•393w)

Evan rolled to rest on top of Eddie who wrapped an arm around his waist. “True. We scored the hottest man on the beach.”

Chapter 24 of this can't be love by prettyboybuckley/@prettyboybuckley (2024•E•4.4K/123K)

Buck may be an omega, but he’s lived most of his life since presenting as a beta thanks to strong suppressants. Despite having vowed to never date an alpha, when Tommy asks him out, Buck can’t resist. Eddie had come to terms with knowing he would never have a chance with his best friend. When Tommy starts dating Buck, Eddie quickly becomes jealous, though after a while he feels confused. Who exactly is he jealous of? Tommy falls for Buck harder than he expected, but he doesn’t want to lose Eddie as a friend. After something happens to Buck, he starts to think that maybe none of them have to choose. OR: three men slowly but surely fall in love with each other despite societal expectations - things get complicated

#Sterek #Buddie #BuddieTommy #polyfire #stiles stilinski x derek hale #evan buckey x eddie diaz #2025 Fic Rec List #Sterek Fic Rec #Buddie Fic Rec

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obriengf · 1 year ago

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"do i know you?"

it was the worst thing that stiles could hear in this moment. his heart open, willing, full, and racing a million miles per second, only to be shut down in an instant by a handful of wrenching words.

his jaw fell - slack and in disbelief, words weighing heavy on the tip of his tongue as he lost the ability to speak, to answer you and your face of confusion. he forgot that he had a vice grip on your hands as his fingers were threading between yours; they were tangled, and sore from hours of never wanting to let you go, never wanting to lose you or let you slip through the cracks.

he couldn't stand to think of what his life would be without you, but he might just.

his arm tensed as muscles were thrown into fight or flight, your hand pulling away from his warm grip. he finally allowed his eyes to move as they peered down to his empty hold, brown irises blown out of proportion and dilating with fear. what did you say?

and then you said it again.

"do.. do i know you?"

your tone was getting desperate now despite its raspiness. he hadn't heard your voice in days, not since you were screaming his name in pain, yelling out for his help, his comfort. not since you were held nearly eight whole feet off the ground by your throat, a monster unwilling to let you go as snarls filled your ears and set your body alight with every single possible ounce of trepedation and torment.

the next thing stiles saw was a blur. a literal mess of sight, where you were one second and suddenly against the ground by the next. your head was perched against the trunk of an old californian oak - you looked peaceful, sleeping. if it wasn't for the red splotches of blood that dragged as you slid to to the ground, then stiles wouldn't be where he was now.

"stiles."

his tone was abrupt - out of nervousness. it was short and probably a little too loud. but he was worried. he was scared.

"what?" you were getting quieter now, brows furrowing and your body sinking back, pulling yourself away. the need for a cocoon to cover yourself in was in high demand, but the best you had was the corner of your hospital bed and a red button to call for help. "what are you talking about? who are you?!"

he could see the tears in your eyes now as they gathered, and he was surely not too far behind. people lose loved ones everyday, but this heartbreak was different. not knowing your love, nor having your love not know you, was an ache that would need much more to heal itself. if, it could heal.

"baby, please just.. let me.. i can help you-" he was growing more desperate as his body shook in complete panic, an attack only mere moments away if he didn't control himself.

he reached for you out of instinct. your touch always grounded stiles: having you in his arms aided any nightmare, a single kiss could jump-start his sad heart, a hug was warm enough to cure any chilly day. he showed his love through touch.. but didn't expect for you to pull so damn fast away from him.

"leave me alone, no! help, help!" you were screeching now as the tears fell, the unknowing clouding your mind. it was a thick fog that no light could pass through, and if someone even dared, they would be lost.

stiles was dragged back, familiar hands steadying his shoulders as he swayed in dizziness. this couldn't be happening.

melissa mccall tried to lead him out, but his feet had sunken into the faded blue linoleum. it was a pure scene of horror before him now - doctors holding you down as you screamed, shook, cried.

because of him.

he didn't remember exactly how he ended up in the waiting room, but questions and encouraging hope was falling on deaf ears.

stiles stilinski loved you with everything he had. but he had lost you. he loved you, had for years now, undoubtedly, unconditionally.

but what does one do, when the person who has your heart, doesn't even remember who you are?

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #teen wolf x reader #dylan O'Brien #dylan O'Brien x reader #idk i wanted to write something spontaneously #here you go

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putalabelonit · 1 year ago

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Teen Wolf fanfiction recs:

Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski

"A Little Hot Mess (The Best of Bad Ideas Remix)" (M) by angelgazing | 1,438 | He doesn't know what makes him do it, probably whatever is making his blood edge closer to boiling. He slides a hand up the outside of Stiles' leg, soothing, holds on to his hip as tight as he dares. Says, "I never have, but I can start," with his mouth wetter; hot and wanting.

"i've woken up on one too many floors (but my favorite was yours)" (E) by turnpikedarling | 4,888 | “Come on, dude,” Stiles tells him, planting his hands on the back of the couch and vaulting over it into the hallway of the apartment they’re currently trying to move into. It’s their first apartment together, some shitty little thing Stiles found on Craigslist and sent to Scott in a frantic email. It took Scott less than a second to realize he’d follow Stiles anywhere, and then all of a sudden: a month later they were roping Isaac and Erica and Boyd into helping them move hand-me-down furniture across town, and now here they are, trying to figure out what to do with this disgusting couch that neither of them really wants, anyway.

"Love Me Right" (E) by alexenglish | 6,004 | Generally, people are attractive, all their bits and pieces. Stiles has always seemed to be attracted to everyone, which is why it isn’t a surprise when Stiles leans forward, eyes on Scott’s face as he passes the joint back to him, and says: “Why haven’t we made out yet?” in a very serious voice. It takes all of Scott’s self control not to burst out laughing. The look on Stiles’ face is so so so intent, eyes wide and wet and blinking slowly. It's only a surprise that it takes until they're 17 for him to ask.

"A Little More 'Touch Me'" (E) by alexenglish | 4,215 | “I will blow you for half that pizza,” Stiles says. It’s an accident, really, he definitely didn’t mean to say that. It’s true, but he didn’t mean to, fuck – “I mean, I would blow you not for pizza, but at this point, mostly for pizza.”

"Find new ways to fall apart" (E) by queerly_it_is | 5,997 | Stiles confesses his feelings to Scott when he thinks they're about to die, but has to deal with the consequences when they don't.

"Like real people do" (E) by queerly_it_is | 15,361 | Stiles waits until Scott’s focused on the game, eyes narrowed and his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth, fingers tapping at the controller, before he says, “So I think we should kiss.”

"Apparent Lack of Ceremony" (E) by Loz | 3,104 | Scott keeps climbing into Stiles' bed at night to cuddle. They don't talk about it in the morning.

"more power than anything waiting in the dark" (G) wangler | 2,082 | When Scott jogs back inside, his mom stands against wall, watching Stiles, eyeing the tangle of bandages and dusty old clothes. "Get them off," Stiles is saying, dazed and soft. "Get it off."

"I Want Your Love" (E) by BootsnBlossoms | 7,229 | During high school, he’d ‘jokingly’ teased Scott about wanting to make out with him, about wanting to try new experiences out with him. He loved his best friend literally more than life itself, and once Scott starting dating women, Stiles had taken his attraction and want and shoved it in a little box. Friendship, saving each other from the trauma of their supernatural coming of age, protecting each other from the horrors of their senior year… well, putting the lid on his feelings was easy to do. But now? Now he’d come to terms with his infatuation enough that his buddies were sending him porn videos featuring people who looked like Scott.

"A Place to Belong" 🔒 (E) by blacktofade | 10,086 | Stiles doesn’t know what to expect after they complete the ritual, after his father’s checked over at the hospital and released a few hours later, after Stiles is back at home, sitting on the end of his bed with a heaviness in his chest that’s never been there before.

"Instructions for Dancing" (T) by calrissian18, cybermanolo | 19,247 | If Scott was asked to start from the beginning, his mind would place him right at the center of Beacon Hills, looking up at the black and white Hale house, clamped down on his mom's hand and trying not to feel fear. If Stiles was asked to start from the beginning, he would talk about a boy named Scott who walked into his kindergarten classroom, stuck to him like a barnacle and became the most important thing Stiles would ever do with his life.

"Roadside Assistance" (E) by autoschediastic | 3,741 | Scott shoves his shoulder. "Shut up or I'll let you freeze." "Great, now you're starting to sound like Derek," Stiles says, grinning harder at the look of shocked horror that skitters across Scott's face. He lowers his voice to gravely rumble. "Shut up or I'll rip your throat out, Stiles. I'm gonna kill you myself if you don't shut it, Stiles. Stop talking, Stiles, or I'm gonna--"

"Coal Calling the Kettle Black" (T) by calrissian18 | 1,024 | “You okay?” Stiles scratched at his eyebrow with his opposite thumbnail, turned around. He squinted, licked his lip. “You?” he asked rather than answered. Stiles 101 there.

"Or What" (M) by calrissian18 | 2,043 | Stiles nearly died. Scott's still trying to figure out what the hell that means.

"This is Totally a 'the World is Ending Unless We Sleep Together' Scenario, Right?" (E) calrissian18 | 4,854 | Scott steeled himself and said tightly, “I think we should have sex.” There was no amount of practicing the words that could have prepared him for actually saying them. The way they hung there itched at his skin. Stiles’ head whipped around. He blinked, eyes widening. “Charlie what now?”

"The Killer in Me is the Killer in You" (E) by Loz | 21,327 | Nothing has ever felt as horrific as seeing the look of betrayal in Stiles’ eyes as Scott sinks his teeth into his wrist.

"Let's Think of Each Other and Hesitate" (M) by Loz | 4,944 | Perhaps it was a mistake to try to surprise Stiles like this. He doesn’t know what his reaction will be. He’s always happy to FaceTime, but there’s still distance between them, metaphorical as well as physical. Maybe Stiles has been enjoying this separation from his old life, and seeing Scott in person again will bring all the old horrors back.

"Trying Hard to Keep This Warmth In" (T) by Loz | 1,646 | The thing about them being best friends is that they’re always touching.

"Sensitivity to Scent" (T) by RarePairFairy | 2,392 | Scott is used to Stiles being a werewolf. He's used to Stiles being tactile. But he's not used to Stiles being a tactile werewolf, and somehow, that's different.

"Into Me (See?)" (T) by deathgetsusall & mrsvc | 7,735 | "We still on for this Friday? Sleepover at my place?" Scott almost crashes the cart into Stiles' heels. Scott's not ready, though, to face spending so much uninterrupted time with Stiles, not yet. He's got too many thoughts running around his head, and he'll either embarrass himself, or do something stupid. Like tell him everything.

"scott/stiles twitter fic" (M) mrsvc & rospeaks | 1,725 | series of short bits where scott and stiles make out (and more!) before the series starts.

More to be added.

"Whatever the mess you are (you're mine, okay?)" (E) by queerly_it_is | 4,478 | Scott has no idea what they’re doing. Well, okay he knows what they’re doing, it’s just… how do you wrap the right definition around ‘I’m screwing around with the guy who’s my brother except we aren’t really related’?

"Sometimes a piece of sun" (E) by queerly_it_is | 39,603 | It doesn’t matter how Scott asks, Stiles always says he’s fine. Scott’s not sure who’s supposed to believe it, or if Stiles just says it because it’s what he thinks he’s supposed to say. They do this now. They break and bleed and fall to bits, but so long as they say they’re okay then none of it’s really happening. It’s a nice idea. Just stick your fingers in your ears and hum really loud. The problem is that it’s not working, and Scott’s terrible at pretending it is.

••••••

#fanfiction #teen wolf #fan fiction #fanfic #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fics #fic recs #scott mccall #sciles #stiles x scott #scott x stiles

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sundrop-writes · 2 months ago

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What fandom should I focus on writing for during the month of March?

Hey everyone! My birthday is on Friday - which I am really excited about. I'm going out for my birthday and I'm probably gonna take a few days off after that just to relax and hang out, so I won't be working on fics for a few days, but - when I come back, I want to be working on some fun stuff. And that means I have posted my last fic of February.

However, lately, I have had a really hard time choosing between what WIPs I want to work on. I had more focus during the month of February because I was rewatching The Walking Dead and only working on WIPs related to that fandom, so I have decided that this is something new I am gonna try. Every month (or so), I am gonna post a poll to decide which fandom I am gonna work on. And then, whatever the winner of the poll is, I am gonna rewatch the source material and focus my energy on only working on WIPs from that fandom.

So, if you have really wanted to see me work on something from one of these fandoms, now is your time to speak up. I will weight the results of the poll - but I will also more heavily weigh the opinions of people who comment on this poll and tell me if there's a particular WIP you're excited about or if you send me an anon message saying so. I was slightly considering putting Stranger Things and/or Criminal Minds on this list, but I don't quite think I'm ready to get back to writing for those fandoms yet. But whatever the winner of this poll is won't be on next month's poll. So I might need another fandom to fill that slot.

Anyway, please read through this list or consult my general list of WIPs for 2025, and please let me know what you think!

Examples of WIPs From Each Fandom:

(Fics that I'm really excited about potentially working on, so that you guys know what you're voting for)

DC Titans

My main priority for this fandom would be the second part of The Jaws of Life - Jason Todd x GN!Reader. Which, so far, nobody has asked about and the original comment goal has not been met. You can read the first part here if you have not read it, or read the original 'first part' of the series - Emergency Contact.

I would also potentially like to work on a third part to the series:

Death of An Executioner - Jason Todd x GN!Reader. Lovers Fighting. Hurt and Comfort, Extreme Angst, Happy Ending. Set during Season 3. Sequel to the above fic. You and Jason are standing on rocky ground. He feels like he owes Crane his life because the man literally brought him back from the dead, but you don't care about that - you just want to ditch Gotham and run away to chase peace somewhere else. Things get a lot more complicated when Crane realises he can use you to his advantage, and Jason finally has to go crawling back to the Titans, begging for their help. (10,000 words est.) (This will be the sequel to The Jaws of Life, ending out the story as a perfect trilogy. It is my ultimate goal to write this story sometime during 2025, finishing out the arc of the trilogy with my ideal perfect ending.)

Also, I really want to work more on the 'One Moment Per Episode With Dick Grayson' Series. I really want to write more of these. It's a lot of fun and I really want to make more progress on it!

Teen Wolf

Bark Like You Want It aka The Isaac Closet Rut Fic - Sub!Isaac Lahey x Fem!Thick!Reader. Acquaintances/Friends to Lovers. Smut. Set during Season 3. You and Isaac get stuck restocking the janitor's closet together during a detention punishment, and being in tight closed space with you, being drowned in your scent accidentally sends Isaac into a rut. (8,000 words est.)

Untitled - Sequel to Blood In The Water - Void!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader. Extreme Angst, Horror, Gore. Set during Season 3. You are rudely awoken in the hospital after narrowly surviving a stabbing that Void intended to kill you. But he ensures you that now, he has a greater, grander purpose for you. (10,000 words est.)

Harry Potter

Untitled aka 'The One Where Fred is Obsessed With Your Ass' (aka Punishment Anal with Fred) - Fred Weasley x Fem!Ravenclaw!Reader. Annoyances/Enemies to 'Lovers'. Smut/PWP. Hogwarts Era. One day in class, Fred chases his impulsive mischief and boldly grabs your ass - in response, you smack him with a paper that you're holding. Naturally, McGonagall doesn't see what he did, and only sees your retaliation. Being forced to apologise to the prankster makes you determined to get him caught in the act, which gets you caught in a loop of wearing short skirts in front of him and bending over around him and eventually, screaming and yelling at him when he grabs your ass and smacks it and nobody else ever catches him doing it. And the whole cat and mouse game comes to a head when you get caught in the Gryffindor common room late one night and he catches you alone, finally tired of your teasing and ready to show you a darker side of his mischievous personality. (8,000 words est.)

Untitled aka 'The One Where George Handcuffs Himself To You As A Prank' - George Weasley x Fem!Reader. Annoyances/'Enemies' to Lovers. Smut with Plot. Set Post War. What it says on the tin - George is fed up with the fact that you don't seem to like him very much, and he is determined to get you to like him. One day he finds a pair of handcuffs on Harry's desk and (not knowing that they are enchanted to keep criminals from escaping with basic spells) he takes them and conveniently forgets to take the key, and handcuffs himself to you so that you will be forced to like him by spending time with him. After you demand to be let go, and several failed attempts to escape the cuffs with basic magic that grow increasingly dangerous (and with Harry out of the country on a topic secret mission and a Ministry curse breaker delayed with other business) you two are stuck together for a full day, and oddly enough, George's theory is right. It helps that you are pulled close by his body weight while he sleeps and accidentally sit on his boner, forcing you to face the fact that annoyance and lust are two very similar emotions. (10,000 words est.)

The Maze Runner

(Note: most of the fics I have for this fandom are already finished and just need to be edited, but I would love to write new stuff for this fandom if it's chosen.)

Some Kind Of Disaster - Gally (TMR) x Fem!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Emotional Angst, Hurt and Comfort, Smut. Set during The Death Cure. You had every reason to believe Gally was dead, so when a mysterious stranger pulls off his mask and reveals himself to be the one person you had been missing so badly - you are shocked. And then you show him just how badly you had been missing him. (6,800 words est.) - PREVIEW HERE

English Blood // American Heartache - Gally (TMR) x Fem!Reader x Newt (TMR). Established Monogamous Relationship to Polyamory. (Very slight) Emotional Angst and Smut. Set post Death Cure/Safe Haven Era. Newt Lives AU. (Sequel to the above fic.) When you get to the Safe Haven, you believe that you have everything you ever wanted, everything you ever needed. So why do you have a nagging feeling that something is missing? Turns out, that 'missing’ thing was the addition of your best friend Newt to your bed, which your boyfriend Gally is more than happy to provide. (20,300 words est.)

Random/Misc. Characters/One Off Movies (And Shows)

(On my Masterlist, this is listed as "Horror Characters", but I do want to write for more than just characters from Horror Movies, and I have a Grey's Anatomy WIP and I don't know where else to put it)

Heartbeat - Eggsy Unwin x Fem!Thick!Reader. Childhood Friends to Lovers. Smut/PWP. Set between the two films. You know it's so incredibly cliche - falling for your childhood best friend. But he grew up to be too fit, and the whole 'friends with benefits' thing didn't benefit you when you started falling in love with him. Too bad for you, he broke your heart when he rudely snubbed you and then disappeared for months, only to show up out of the blue wearing an expensive bespoke suit and talking about - loving you back? (10,000 words est.)

In Too Deep - Nick Jones (House of Wax) x Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Smut, Emotional Angst, and Horror/Gore. Hurt No Comfort. When you are invited on a trip to see a football game out of state, you end up thinking it's a big mistake when your ex is also on the trip, and he spends the entire car ride glaring at you. It seems like an even worse idea when you're stuck sharing a tent with him. But after some feelings and a cigarette are shared, you find out - the trip wasn't such a bad idea after all. (10,000 words est.)

Untitled aka ‘The One That Came To Me In A Dream’ - Alex Karev x Surgical Intern Fem!Reader. Strangers to Friends With Benefits to Lovers. Smut, Emotional Angst. Set during Season 3. Partway through the MAGIC intern year, you are ‘transferred’ to Seattle Grace from another hospital in another state, and nobody seems to know anything about your background. Because Bailey is your resident, her other interns are incredibly curious about where you’re from and why you’re transferring so suddenly - Alex is the only one who doesn’t seem to care, especially when the two of you start having mindless crazy animal sex with absolutely no strings attached. However, he starts to care very much when Cristina discovers a bomb in the hospital in the patient room where all of you hang out, and somehow - you know how to defuse it. (10,000 words est, or more. Will likely be a multi-part arc.)

#sundrop speaks #polls #I'm not gonna put larger fandom tags on this because I want this poll to be JUST FOR MY FOLLOWERS #I genuinely want to know what you guys think

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