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the-bat-writes-imagines · 3 days 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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kitkatwinchester · 1 year ago

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YOU'VE GOT NOTHING, B*TCH!!!

And THIS is why Garrett said you shouldn't try!!

"Because a whole pack of Alphas went after McCall, and he was the one left standing."

Because he's F*CKING SCOTT MCCALL!!!!

AND HE'S NOT JUST ANY ALPHA!

HE'S A F*CKING TRUE ALPHA!!!

And he is the Alpha of the MOST LOYAL PACK in EXISTENCE!!

Because the McCall Pack CANNOT BE BEAT!!

And Scott McCall CANNOT BE BEAT!!!

WHY DO YOU THINK HE'S WORTH THE MOST MONEY, HUH?! (At least, I'm assuming, because I'm pretty sure no one else at this rate is gonna beat 25 MILLION--although let's not sleep on Lydia being not far behind with that 20 million, because LYDIA MARTIN <3.)

Because he's the HARDEST TO KILL!

BECAUSE HE'S SCOTT F*CKING MCCALL!!

TRUE ALPHA OF THE MCCALL PACK!!!

YOU'VE GOT NOTHING, B*TCH!!

...anyways.

I WAS RIGHT ABOUT GARRETT! (Evil vibes.)

AND I WAS RIGHT ABOUT BRETT!! (Werewolf.)

AND I WAS RIGHT ABOUT PARRISH!!! (Definitely something.)

AND I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE KEY WORDS!!!! (People we've lost.)

But...I think that's all I'm gonna be right about for the foreseeable future, because I am out of predictions, and I have NO idea who The Benefactor could be.

None.

No idea who would be able to keep track of all of the supernaturals in Beacon Hills this well and be this technologically and supernaturally connected and be quick and clever enough to steal money from the Hale vault.

Mostly because all of the people that I think are capable of that are in the McCall Pack and therefore (likely--I know we're still missing a list) on the list.

I also thought Kate was involved, but she's on List #2 (...as is Kira's mom, I just noticed, so that sucks), so that's out of the question.

Speaking of Kate, god, when Araya was yelling at Chris to say the code, I was soooo hoping that he was gonna speak Allison's code instead. Especially after she said "say it for your daughter, Allison". Like, I know he's mad and hurting and probably has a lot of mixed emotions about Kate, but the POWER MOVE it would've been to have Araya say that and to have Chris say "We protect those who cannot protect themselves."

I hope he does say it later, 'cause that would be awesome and would make me love him even more.

But, regardless, I love him, and I trust his mixed emotions to sort themselves out and do the right thing in the end, because we need to figure out how to save Derek's powers.

I feel like these Season 4 episodes have seriously been so solid so far. Like, this one was a lot more set-up in a lot of ways, but as a result, it was also a lot of puzzle pieces coming together, and the filmography and editing and emotion that was done with that was spot-on, and it really made for an incredible episode.

I REALLY love Season 4 so far, and I'm so excited to keep going (especially because I'm now two episodes away from an episode @slice-of-magenta told me has an amazing Sciles moment in it and I am PUMPED. XD <3 <3 <3 <3)

Anyways BAD*SS TRUE ALPHA SCOTT F*CKING MCCALL ALL DAY LONG!!! <3 <3 <3

(TRY US B*TCH! YOU GOT NOTHING ON TRUE ALPHA SCOTT MCCALL!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3)

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 2 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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mysticallystilinski · 3 months ago

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i just need the sappiest like nap with stiles he's such a baby i cannot

BABY LOVE

a stiles stilinski x fem!reader fic

— ౨ৎ masterlist

CW ! (literally only the most cutest fluff)

lav speaks.. i’m so tired and it’s 3 am! i listened to the feels by twice the entire time while making this fic; take that as it is :)

heading to the stilinski household after lacrosse practice was the highlight of your day. of course — stiles lacrosse practice. one day in particular, you had happened to head to his house a little bit later than normal.

going up the front porch steps, and knocking on his door to no response was a little confusing to you. usually with the 4 knocks, stiles and yours speciality, he would run down the stairs, knock into a few things, then quickly open the door.

nope, today it was an embodiment of silence. beacon hills was growing darker by the second. of course with the reputation of the supernatural, you had to either go home and explain to stiles later why you didn’t show up, or risk being hit by a baseball bat in self defense.

you chose the second option.

slowly creaking the door open, the lights were on, but sheriff stilinski was at work; meaning that stiles had to be somewhere. fear creeping within, you quickly ran up the stairs and towards stiles room. his door was ajar, meaning he was definitely home.

“sti?”, you questioned softly while opening his door. your face contorted into an awe once you saw he was sleeping on his bed, still in his lacrosse jersey. stiles shoes were on, his hair slightly sweaty, and he was hugging one of your blankets that you gave him tightly.

you slowly pulled out your phone, and snapped a photo of him, sending it to his phone for him to look at later. heading over to him, you quickly took off your shoes and jacket, and laid right next to him.

“stiles — wake up i’m here”, you giggle. stiles groaned, turning over while practically crushing you underneath him. he mumbled something incoherent, so you didn’t even bother trying to understand what he meant. “sti, you’re hurting me”.

his arms started to feel around, as if he was looking for something important. finally finding your warm body, he pulled you in closer making you breath in his musky scent. you practically died at the touching from him. even though he was your boyfriend, every experience felt new and never got old.

he embraced you, as you wrapped your arms around his torso. you felt his chest rise, slowly up and down. he was dead asleep, and there was no waking him up from this comfy position.

you gave up fighting it and actually gave in. making yourself comfortable, you wrapped your legs around stiles legs, interlocking each-others bodies. with being able to slightly use your hands, you connected your phone to his speaker and put on some soft music.

stiles woke up in a haze, trying to figure out his surroundings and who he was cuddling. once he realized it was you, a smile absorbed his face. “hey”, he spoke softly. you laughed at his expression, half-asleep, and practically dreaming.

“did lacrosse kick your ass?” you slight snickered. stiles just groaned at the thought of lacrosse, “yes — yes it definitely did.” without second thought, stiles pulled you closer to his sweaty body. you didn’t mind it though, you guys were just close like that.

besides, it was kind of a turn on.

stiles yawned, which caused you to yawn — complete chain reaction. “baby, are you tired?”, stiles asked in a compassionate voice. in a sleepy haze, your eyes started to droop and your thoughts wandered. “mm’ so tired sti.”

he smirked at your words, slightly rubbing your back to make you even more sleepy. “here, wear my jersey baby”, stiles spoke in a whisper. he stripped himself of the jersey, and slowly maneuvered it onto your body.

it had to be immediately after that action that you were out like a light, breathing in the comforting scent of his. stiles faced his back towards you and took your hand around his body. he needed to be comfortable too, and of course he was the little spoon, always.

minutes later, stiles was sound asleep in your arms. both dreaming of each-other, lovers became closer.

— ᡣ𐭩 LAV

#teen wolf #stiles x reader #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski blurb #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x y/n #stiles stilinski #dylan o’brien #dylan o’brien x you #dylan o’brien x reader #teen wolf stiles #stiles teen wolf #stiles x y/n #stiles

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princesssmars · 1 year 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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ateotd-izzy · 8 months ago

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happy birthday - stiles stilinski x fem!reader

summary: it’s april 8th, which also happens to be the day of your boyfriend’s 18th birthday, so you want to make sure he has the best day ever.

notes: i know, such a creative title!! happy birthday to my totally real boyfriend (it’s just fluffy and cute ig)

☾

6:00 am.

this was the time stiles woke you up that morning.

his lips brushed against your cheek and you stirred, hearing a soft chuckle from the boy beside you.

“stiles, what time is it?” your voice was between a mumble and a groan, and stiles kissed your cheek again.

“uh, like,” he rolled over to check his phone, which was sitting on the table beside his bed. “oh, it’s six.”

“ugh, gross. go back to sleep.” you said, your eyes still shut as you pushed his face away from your own.

“i can’t.” he complained, turning to lie on his back beside you again. “i mean, it’s my birthday, babe.”

“mhm.” you rolled over and stiles wrapped an arm around you, kissing the back of your neck. “and it’ll still be your birthday at 8 am.”

“did you get me a present?” stiles asked, lifting his body to look at you, and you opened one eye to meet his own.

“oh, crap, i forgot.” you watched the smile on his face drop and then put a hand on his cheek. “i’m kidding, i wouldn’t forget that.”

stiles rolled onto his back again, his head leaning against your own. “babe, i really can’t fall asleep, i’m too excited.”

you shook your head with a smile before leaning over the edge of his bed, reaching into your bag to pull out a gift wrapped box.

“happy birthday.” you spoke softly and his lips slowly grew into a smile as you handed him the gift.

he unwrapped it carefully, and once the box was open, he chuckled.

inside the box was a small collection of things you had bought him. a new flannel, some new markers, a pair of socks with little death stars on them, a dvd copy of the film hot rod, some more red string (because he only seemed to run out of that colour), and a photo of the two of you that you framed.

he smiled, and kept looking down, pulling out the picture before lifting his head and meeting your eyes.

“thank you.” he put down the frame and wrapped his arms around you.

“of course, baby.” you hugged him back tightly and he kissed you right on the lips.

when it was finally 8 am, stiles practically flew out of his bed and was downstairs in just seconds, greeted by his father who was making breakfast for the three of you.

and by 10, the two of you were grocery shopping.

not the most fun for a birthday activity, but in order to have a birthday party there needs to be food.

while you were pushing the cart down the aisles, stiles was picking out the different snacks, texting scott for secondary opinions as he did so.

then after putting a bag of chips into the cart, stiles leaned forward and pulled you into a kiss.

his hands held onto your hips, and you let go of the shopping cart to move your hands up to his shoulders.

when you pulled apart, stiles just gave you a smile and started pushing the cart away, leaving you standing in the aisle in the moment before you caught up.

“what was that for?” you asked, following stiles to the checkout counter.

“what was what for?” he asked in response, and you stared at him. “what?”

“you’re a weirdo, stilinski.”

“well aren’t you just the sweetest girlfriend ever.”

that evening, after hours of preparing, the stilinski household was decorated and the guests had arrived.

the guests literally just being the pack and melissa.

but that was all stiles had wanted.

he sat on the living room couch with scott and liam, but his eyes were on you.

you were in the dining room, talking with lydia and laughing at something she had said.

stiles crossed his arms and pulled his shirt, the new one you had bought him, closer to his body.

you had basically planned and executed the entire party, plus your gift for him, and you even made him a cake (which you hadn’t told him about, he just found you in the kitchen earlier in the day).

as stiles stared, all he could think about was just how entirely in love with you he was and how he wanted to stay like that forever.

in his eyes, no matter what, you were perfect. in every single way.

you turned your head, and made eye contact with him.

all you did was look at him, and that was all stiles needed to die happy.

honestly, in order to have a good birthday, all stiles would’ve needed was to see you, just like every other day.

but for you, you wanted to do all of this for him. if you could, you would give the whole world, the moon and the stars to stiles, and that still couldn’t compare to the love you feel for him.

so, the best you could do was to try and give him the best day possible, and you didn’t even know you had succeeded just by existing.

neither one of you could even comprehend how much you loved the other.

“how ‘bout cake, stiles?” noah’s voice caused stiles’ head to shoot up.

“now?” stiles started getting up off the couch before looking back to the dining room, but you had disappeared.

“come on.” noah chuckled and everyone moved from the living room to the dining room, where stiles sat at the table.

then the lights were turned off and stiles turned to watch you slowly walking from the kitchen, carefully holding his cake and bringing it over to the table.

the candles on the top flickered when the cake was sat down in front of him, and stiles grabbed onto your hand the moment it was free.

then everyone started singing for him, for his day.

your hand stiles wasn’t gripping in his own was gently passing through his hair until he leaned forward to blow out the candles.

one candle stayed lit, still flickering in the dark room for a few seconds until he tried blowing it out again.

then the lights were back on and the room was soon full of conversation and the sounds of cutlery against plates as everyone ate.

when stiles finished his cake, he lied his head against his crossed arms that were on the table and looked up at you beside him.

his girl. the most perfect girl in the world.

hours later, after you had showered and changed, you climbed into stiles’ bed beside him, where he was staring up at the ceiling.

“did you have a good day today?” you asked, your voice a soft whisper.

“the best.” he replied, his own tone matching yours.

you pulled the blanket up and leaned against stiles, one arm going over his chest.

“what are you thinking about right now?”

when you asked the question, stiles brought his hand around your body, his fingertips grazing the skin of your hip below your shirt.

“next month we’ll both be 18.” stiles told you.

“yep…” you were a little confused. “your point?”

“i want to marry you.” stiles stated, kissing the top of your head. “obviously not right away, but… eventually.”

you were silent for a moment.

“good.” you spoke. “because i want to marry you too. eventually.”

stiles smiled and you lifted yourself up to kiss him on the lips.

“maybe in june.” you suggested and stiles laughed.

he was the one to kiss you that time.

“i don’t care when it is, i just want it to happen.”

a/n: idk if this is good but i just love him so much like on another level

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #dylan o’brien x reader #dylan o’brien #teen wolf #stiles stilinski oneshot #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine #birthday

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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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princeescaluswords · 4 months ago

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Not Hard to Say You're Sorry

I've heard it before and I heard it yesterday: Parts of the fandom don't like Scott McCall because he never apologizes for what he does. It's a common argument. However, it's not true. I would argue that Scott shows he's sorry all through the show by actions more than words, but that might be a little complex for people looking for a reason to hate a minority lead protagonist. So, lets just list the times he literally told someone he was sorry about something that happened in Season 1. This list is restricted to the precise word: "sorry." (Note: I just realized I've done this before. Well, if at first you don't succeed ...)

Wolf Moon (1x01)

Says “sorry” to Allison for touching her cheek without permission.

Says “sorry” to Coach for interrupting his speech during tryouts.

Says “sorry” twice to Stiles for losing his temper when Stiles tried to cancel his date with Allison

Says “sorry” to Allison for ditching her at the party.

Second Chance at First Line (1x02)

Says “sorry” to Chris three times for getting hit by Chris’s car.

Says “sorry” to Allison twice for running away and for acting weird.

Pack Mentality (1x03)

Says “sorry” to Deaton twice for being one minute late.

Says “sorry” to Allison for being bad at bowling.

Magic Bullet (1x04)

Says “sorry” to Allison for his phone interrupting their time together.

Heart Monitor (1x06)

Says “sorry” to Stiles for being distracted thinking about sex while Stiles is talking about anchors.

Says “sorry” to Stiles for realizing he’s in love with Allison.

Says “sorry” to Derek for his second howl being so loud.

Wolf’s Bane (1x08)

Says “sorry” to Jackson insincerely, pretending not to know Jackson is accusing him of a werewolf

Formality (1x11)

Says “sorry” to Allison for trying to get her to laugh when she’s being serious.

Scott apologized sincerely at least 16 times in Season 1. Again, this isn't counting the times he tried to make up for his mistake such as when he let Stiles beat him up or brought back Allison's necklace to her. These are only the times he said the word "sorry."

He wasn't the only person, of course. Many other people said they were sorry, though some of them were insincere. Here's a list in order of numbers.

Allison Argent: 10

Stiles Stilinski: 7 (1 insincere)

Alan Deaton: 4

Melissa McCall: 4

Chris Argent: 3 (1 insincere)

Jackson Whittemore: 3 (all insincere)

Kate Argent: 3

Garrison Myers: 2

Adrian Harris: 1

Peter Hale: 1 (insincere)

In direct contradiction of fandom's statement that Scott never apologizes, at least in Season 1, Scott told someone he was sorry as much as the next two characters combined. What is also pretty weird is that the fandom darling, Derek Hale, never said the word once. (He'll say it insincerely in Shape Shifted (2x02) when he's flirting with the night desk deputy).

Want me to go on? I can! Or, maybe the parts of the fandom so riddled by unjustified hate for a minority lead protagonist might want to watch the show again.

#scott mccall #scott mccall defense squad #stiles stilinski #allison argent #derek hale #teen wolf fandom problems #fandom problems #fandom racism

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cgsf · 10 months 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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itseyaaaa · 6 months ago

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Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks...

tbh it was hard to choose just 10 but i managed to do it so here u are!!

1) ADAM PARRISH from the raven cycle. He is the most relatable character I ever read so he deserves first place. Loved him since the beginning and keep on doing it. I usually never relate to characters but then he came in my life and i found myself staring at the pages while reading his thoughts bc that was how I felt too and it was kinda shocking.

2) JEAN MOREAU from All For The Game series. Since he was just a background character in the first 3 books I didn't mind him much, but then I read the extra content and his story broke me so much and I couldn't stop thinking about him, then the 4th book about him came out and I'm even more in love with him even tho he keeps make me cry. His story keeps tormenting me hoping he will get the happy ending he deserves.

3)HUA CHENG from Tian Guan Ci Fu. The greenest man in the world!!! Waited 800 years for the love of his life and he even died for him. He is just so perfect that I couldn't help but love him.

4) MONKEY D. LUFFY from One Piece. Only God knows how much I would give to have Luffy knocking on my door and ask me to join his crew. The happiness he brings, the serenity I would have if I had him in my life. The way he is a savior without even trying like pls come and save me too from this meaningless life and let's go have adventures in weird islands!!!

5) STILES STILINSKI from TeenWolf. He is my supreme teencrush. Never had a crush like this for an actor/tv character. He's literally the type of guy I would marry without second thoughts.

6)XERXE BREAK from Pandora Hearts. It's my favourite manga ever and his character was so interesting to read about, his powers, his story, the way he was connected with Abyss, his being mysterious and weird sometime, his intelligence, everything about him got my attention since the beginning. And personally his legal Chain had one of the best design and powers in the whole manga.

7) FA MULAN from Mulan . She was my childhood crush and I know the Disney movie by memory. I admired her so much and I wanted to be her since I was a child and my admiration still exist even now. she was an icon and a legend!!

8)SHERLOCK HOLMES from Moriarty the Patriot. Always liked sherlock as character but this version is the ultimate perfection. The animation design is stunning and the character too. I have a thing for intelligent men and he is the first one on the list.

9) MAKI ZENIN from Jujutsu Kaisen. Big ass crush for her since the beginning but then I read the Zenin Clan Arc and I was on my knees for her. A female character that it's not fanservice or a pretty face or two big boobs

10) SUNG JINWOO from Solo Leveling. It's my favourite manhwa and he is amazing. I actually have a bigger crush for Igris but it's one of his shadows but whatever. His story and growth is very interesting and I enjoyed reading it a lot.

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elisela · 1 year ago

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an introvert's guide to falling in love on thanksgiving derek x stiles, g, fluff, thanksgiving, 1.6k for @nerdy-stilinski ... just barely getting this up in time haha

It’s not that Derek doesn’t like being charitable; it’s that Derek doesn’t like people. What he does like is cooking, which is why, every Thanksgiving morning since high school, he’s found a reason to make himself useful in the kitchen and just …. not leave.

All day.

Slowly, throughout college and grad school, he was put in charge of more and more of the meal, until the only thing he wasn’t responsible for was the appetizers his mother set out early and kept refreshing throughout the day. He has his timeline down to a science at this point, though the menu has evolved over the years to keep up with the guests his mother invites and the new additions always necessitate some last-minute juggling. He starts with the soups a full week in advance; butternut squash and split pea, made in huge proportions and kept frozen until the night before. Same with the gravy, though he’ll add in drippings for extra flavor just before it’s served. He preps the casseroles the day before and lets them sit until the morning, bakes at least half a dozen pies, and usually goes to bed the night before already exhausted for what’s to come.

But as tiring as it all is, he’ll gladly do it when the alternative is mixing with a bunch of college students he doesn’t know, all of whom don’t have another place to go for the holidays. The kitchen, at least, is his refuge.

A refuge that’s invaded far too quickly the next morning.

He hears the humming first; he’s been able to tune out most of the conversations since he was a teenager, though the more repetitive and annoying noises tend to break through occasionally. And while the humming is definitely repetitive, it doesn’t alarm him until it gets closer, closer, and abruptly turns into a low whistle at the threshold of the kitchen.

Derek grits his teeth and reminds himself that while charity is important to his mother, genuine kindness is more so, and she won’t hesitate to voice any disappointment.

“Does the cooking or the clean-up take longer?” a voice asks, followed shortly by footsteps.

“Not sure,” Derek says, wincing when the potato peeler slips and cuts into his finger. He flips the water on with his wrist, hopefully hiding the blood from sight until his skin knits itself back together seconds later. “My sisters are in charge of cleaning.”

There’s laughter from behind him, and the sound of the wooden spoon he’d been using to brown the butter as it clinks against the pot. “So it doesn’t matter much to you is what I’m getting out of that.”

Derek feels his lips quirk up, despite his reluctance to have his space invaded. “If there’s a single clean dish in this kitchen at the end of the day I’ve failed.” This time, when he hears laughter, he turns around to look at the source of it and almost immediately wishes he hadn’t. If there’s anything that makes Derek a little weak in the knees, it’s pale skin and big, dark eyes, and he looks away before he can take the man in fully and find even more appealing details.

“Need any help getting dirtying them up?” the guy asks. Derek’s about to decline—politely, of course, or God help him if his mother overhears—but then he adds, “Because to be honest it’s kind of awkward being out there, I’m pretty sure everyone knows each other? There are groups, at least, and I was supposed to come with my buddy because we decided it was a Christmas-only trip home this year, only his girlfriend invited him to Tahoe literally this morning and he didn’t tell me until I got here and it also felt awkward to leave, so …”

Derek starts peeling the potatoes again and tells himself to stay strong, but he can feel his resolve crumbling. “I don’t really need much help,” he says; a weak protest, but still true. He does so much of the prep ahead of time that it’s really just managing the timing of it all. The disappointment that radiates from the man is so palpable that Derek caves almost immediately. “But you can cube the potatoes, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, anything,” he hears, and then, “I’m Stiles, by the way.”

Stiles … doesn’t shut up. He talks as he cuts the potatoes in a way that makes Derek think he’s going to lose a finger by the end of the night, an abbreviated life story that gives just enough details to get Derek interested in hearing more. But for every small fact about himself he gives out he asks at least three questions of Derek, everything from his middle name to the first flavor of ice cream he’d ever considered his favorite, and Derek finds himself talking much more than he does to anyone he’s ever met. He doesn’t even realize he’s answering the questions until suddenly they’re knee-deep in an argument over the relative merits of the Wildcat formation and he realizes he’s ignored the timer on the oven going off for a solid two minutes while he details his very short college football career.

“So how’d you get stuck with all the cooking?” Stiles asks hours later, just as Derek’s pulling the turkey out of the oven to rest. He’s holding a casserole dish in his hands and although his body is still, he also seems to be vibrating with energy. “I’m just assuming this isn’t the first time because you seem to have everything under control, whereas I would have probably burned the turkey to get it to cook faster and forgotten like, the rolls or something.”

Derek pauses, still holding on to the roasting pan with both hands. The words send a jolt of adrenaline through him—not the good type, not the type that comes with elation or something equally serotonin-boosting—but dread, and a mild sense of panic.

He couldn’t have forgotten the rolls. He gets the frozen type, bags and bags of them, because once they defrost and rise they only take a few minutes to bake. It’s the last thing he does every year; he takes the casseroles out of the oven and puts four cookie sheets worth of rolls in, and by the time they’re done everything else is on the table.

“I forgot the rolls,” he says, letting go of the roasting pan and twisting to look at the island, where the shelf he typically keeps the cookie sheets on is depressingly empty. His heart feels like it’s sinking, even though he knows at the same time that there’s plenty of food and it’s not such a big deal. “I forgot to take them out.”

The oven door closes, pulling him out of his head, and Stiles taps at the buttons to set the timer. “I can grab them. Where are they?”

“In the freezer,” Derek says, probably too short, because Stiles raises an eyebrow in response. “Fuck, I never took them out. They take hours to rise, it’s too late. Shit.”

“So we go without,” Stiles says, shrugging. “If anyone complains, kick them out.”

He can’t keep himself from frowning. It’s such a simple, little thing, and he tends to get stuck on those at times and the unsettled feeling in his chest can stick around for hours. But then Stiles moves into his line of sight and reaches out, hand closing around his shoulder. “You’re cute when you’re upset,” he says, and grins even though a faint blush appears on his cheeks. “It’s not rolls, but I can make biscuits pretty quick if you’ve got flour and extra butter.”

Some of the pressure lifts off his chest. “Flour’s in the pantry,” he says, and Stiles nods once and turns around, further discussion not needed. Derek still needs to assemble the salads, but he takes a moment to find a clean mixing bowl and the pastry cutter so Stiles can get to work. It takes longer than the rolls would have, but everything is still hot when they come out of the oven, and he can’t even bring himself to care that his sisters will definitely make fun of him for messing up when Stiles breaks off a piece of a biscuit and holds it out for Derek to try.

They’re simple, but good—but even better is the way that Stiles kisses him back when Derek pulls him in, a little overwhelmed by the way the day turned out so differently than he had expected, but grateful.

“Thanks for that,” he says, quietly, when they part, gesturing to the basket Stiles had just piled all the biscuits into. “And everything else.”

“Thanks for letting me hide in here all day,” Stiles says with a grin. “Do you have to stick around for a while after dinner, or can I convince you to get late-night ice cream with me?”

“I could be convinced,” Derek says, picking up the last of the casserole dishes to bring to the table, “but I could also just forget to bring out that cherry pie you’ve been looking at all day and we could keep hiding.”

“Hiding’s good,” Stiles says quickly. “Hiding is great, let’s do that. Just not in here where I assume your sisters will be cursing our names as they clean, so—my place isn’t that far, if you wanna just … hide there. Instead. With the pie. You know, we could always get ice cream to go with the pie, that’s probably the best decision. Do people do a la mode with cherry pie?”

Derek shakes his head and grins, and uses his elbow to urge Stiles in front of him; they’ve only known each other a few hours, but he knows well how easily he can get distracted. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go get this over with and we can find out.”

#sterek #fic #thanksgiving #fluff #eli writes #legit thought of this around 8:30 and started writing it around 10 #just needed to write thanksgiving fluff i guess!

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night-daily · 2 years ago

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He likes you more than sarcasm| Stiles Stilinski x f! reader

summary: It's Stiles's birthday and you don't know what present buy him so you ask for help to Scott.

warnings: none.

a/n: hii everyone, hope u like it and please let me know for any mistakes because english isn't my first language:]

Since early in the morning you have been running all the mall trying to get the best present for Stiles, it wasn't that you forget his birthday actually it was the opposite his birthday was the only thing on your mind since two weeks ago but still you haven't found anything and, to be honest, you were struggling right now so you decided that you needed help from the only one who knows Stiles a little better than you, Scott McCall.

Stiles on the other hand was worried about you, why? well, it's easy, turns out that you have been so concentrated on the present that you forgot to call to wish him happy birthday or at least a message like you always do on his birthday. You have been always the first person to call him since you two met.

You arrive at his house, knocking on the door impatiently waiting for him or someone to open but without a response, you used the key that according to the pack it was supposed to be only for emergencies but this was an emergency... well at least for you.

''Scott! Where are you? I need your help!'' you yelled as you stepped into his house as if were yours.

Scott who was sleeping on the couch, gets startled by your voice and your presence standing in front of him ''first of all, you scared the shit out of me'' he says holding a hand in his chest ''and how do you even get into my house? It was locked'' he raises a brow.

''I'm not here to talk about how you should change your lock because everyone in the pack has a key'' you just shrugged and you sit down next to him.

He just rolls his eyes at you.

''So why do you need my help anyways?''

''Okay, so as you know It's Stiles's birthday and I have no idea what to buy him this time, I actually asked him what he would like to receive and he just says and I quote you don't need to buy me something, your presence it's enough to make me happy but that can't be true, everyone knows that it's something you say just to not sound like you are a materialistic person but deep down you want to be surprised'' as you finished to say Scott can't believe it how oblivious were you, Stiles literally has confessed his feelings to you. '' I mean, what else he likes besides the sarcasm?'' you started to walk from side to side, thinking.

''Well, he likes you more than sarcasm- oh shit'' Scott's eyes widened as you froze in your place ''what did you just say?'' you were shocked, he mean it? Stiles really likes you? The same guy you fell in since you saw him sleeping in class drooling over his notebook?

''Stiles it's gonna kill me...'' Scott mumbled to himself.

Before you started to ask him so many questions, the front door of the house opens abruptly, scaring the two of you while Stiles started to walk with his phone in hand without realizing you were there.

''Dude I think something happened to yn, i have been calling her but she doesn't pick up and both of us know she is always the first one to congratulate me on my birthday no matter how early is''

''You like me?'' you asked him still in shock.

And in that very moment, Stiles dropped his phone on the floor his head moving to look at you, standing a few steps away from you. His cheeks turned red instantly and was hard not to notice.

''I'm sorry and good luck bro'' Scott patted Stiles's shoulder and run upstairs to his room.

You came closer to Stiles '' so... it is true?'' you asked him again, your voice full of hope. ''yes, I like you'' he murmured nervously avoiding your gaze, and slowly started to step backward ''I'm sorry if i made you feel uncomfortable i know you don't feel the same-'' '' but I do, i like you too, Stiles'' you cut him off as your heart started to racing.

There was a silence for a few seconds, then Stiles grabbed your wrist and this time he came closer to you, so close that your noses were touching, and finally, he kiss you, slowly and tender, a hand caressing your cheek and after a moment, you both break the kiss to breathe some air, damn air.

''By the way, happy birthday'' you chuckled.

''This is literally the best gift I have ever received'' he grins and connects your lips one more time.

#stiles stilinski #scott mccall #teen wolf #stiles stilinski x reader #teen wolf fanfic #stiles stilinski fanfic

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aurevell · 1 year ago

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❄won't mean a thing, dear (if you're not here with me) ❄ Steter | 34k | M

Stiles, who was just about to comment on the blinding glare from the Christmas lights, slowly shuts his mouth. Realization is dawning, and he feels like an idiot not to have seen it coming. “Surprise! Christmas isn’t your thing,” he guesses, resigned. Peter gives him a look like he’s insane to even bring it up. He probably is.

Peter and Stiles’s whole relationship is built on sarcasm and disdain for the world at large. No topic is safe from mockery. (Unfortunately, they may not be on the same page about the holiday season.)

Some days, Stiles is convinced Peter’s only dating him because the guy gets off on pushing buttons. That’s Peter’s main source of amusement. He knows Stiles is never more than a second away from some minor crime at any given moment, and he likes watching Stiles reconsider and bend his already flexible morals. Likes being the one to urge him on.

Some days, Stiles likes to let him.

Some days.

“Yeah, I dunno about this,” Stiles mutters dubiously, peering through the chain-link fence. When he grabs on, squinting for a closer look, the metal is icy against his skin. “It’s kind of a stretch, dude. Even for me.”

“What’s the harm?” Peter inquires, his tone even. Still, Stiles can hear the smirk without looking. “It’s just a peek. Sixty seconds.”

“Psh. Yeah, right. Sixty seconds now, until we actually get in there and look around.”

It’s late, maybe a little past one in the morning, and the two of them have been meandering a slow circuit through the neighborhood around Stiles’s apartment. Which, yeah, is kind of a weird or even suspicious thing to be doing at this hour, depending on who you ask. Dangerous, too, considering the area. But it’s safe enough when one of you is a literal creature of the night and the other knows his way around a curse book.

It’s also kind of a necessity. Late-night walks are sometimes the only thing that helps Stiles nod off when he’s got too many thoughts rattling around in his head. The rhythmic steps, or maybe the familiar neighborhood setting, always calms his nerves somehow. Or else it just burns off his restless energy. Stiles hasn’t psychoanalyzed himself or anything, but it does the trick.

As for Peter’s presence, that’s a semi-recent thing. He used to just pretend to get offended that the sex alone wasn’t enough to tick the right boxes and knock Stiles’s lights out. But it must have gotten boring sitting around indoors and waiting for him to come back, and the guy has never been one for pillow talk anyway, so he’s started tagging along. Plus, he likes fucking with evening joggers who don’t expect to find someone lurking around the corner in the dark. (See? He’s all about the amusement factor.)

Anyway. They’ve paused here by the fence because Stiles has been keeping an eye on this city block for months. Construction has rattled the ground and diverted local traffic forever. Gleaming in its wake is a new building, freshly raised: a mixed-use space, with apartments above and a couple shops at ground level. One of which, the signs promise, is a coffee shop. A coffee shop, and this cannot be emphasized enough, that is only one block away from where Stiles lives. It’s like some beneficent cosmic being decided Stiles Stilinski does deserve nice things, after all. Things like fresh coffee after an all-nighter. Wi-fi when his shitty router kicks out. Maybe even sandwiches and pastries and stuff—he’d sell his soul for decent bear claws within walking distance.

“You did say you wanted to see the inside,” Peter reminds him idly. The building’s been done for weeks, but the fence still blocks half the sidewalk, keeping pedestrians away from the new facade. Even to Stiles’s human nose, the whole area smells pleasantly of sawdust and fresh paint.

“Yeah, but c’mon. I meant when it was finally open. And anyway, can see it fine from here,” Stiles retorts, and it’s kind of true: with the glow of the streetlight behind them, he can make out the gleam of new machinery and the dark shadows of tables and chairs. “Hey. Look, they even have folding windows. For when it’s nice out.”

“Those are nice.” Peter observes. “Easy to break into.”

Stiles tries his best to fight back a grin, because you can’t encourage Peter at times like this. Give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. “Ok, babe, just so we’re clear. We are not breaking—”

“—into your new favorite coffee shop, which you haven’t shut up about for more than five minutes at a time in weeks? I’d think twice about passing on the opportunity. Once they’ve set up their security system, it won’t be as easy.” He hums, as if a thought has just occurred to him. “You know, they probably have all kinds of decor in there. For your sign collection.”

There are a bunch of dark shapes spread out on the walls, some kind of decorations. A few large ones that are probably just menus or something, but smaller ones too. Could be signs, could be art. “I don’t have a—it’s not a collection.”

“It’s eleven signs. What’s that you always say? Two’s a coincidence, three’s a pattern? ‘Eleven’ is probably a collection.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Stiles laughs.

The squeal of bending metal cuts through the quiet. Stiles drags his eyes away from the cafe windows to find Peter peeling up the bottom of the chain link fence, all casual, like it weighs no more than a sheet of paper.

Peter smirks. “It’d be a crime not to.”

“Peter,” Stiles replies, amused, “this is a crime. This is a literal crime.”

“I bet they have those deluxe espresso machines you get so hard for.”

Stiles heaves out a long-suffering sigh, taking in those dark shapes through the window, and pretends to still be thinking about it. He briefly glances around, like anyone else is crazy enough to be out in the cold this time of night, like Peter wouldn’t hear anyone within earshot anyway. Peter lifts the chain-link fence a little higher. An invitation. The same way some boyfriends might hold open a door.

“Alright, fine,” he mutters under his breath. He ignores Peter’s triumphant smirk as he ducks beneath the fence. “Sixty seconds.”

A week and a half later, Cuppa Life Cafe opens to very little fanfare. It’s just a tiny cafe on a tiny street in a tiny town—who cares? But to Stiles, it’s revolutionary.

It’s a shiny new distraction to break up his days. When he’s doing research for his magical consulting clients, when he’s combing through digitized bestiaries for Scott, when he’s delving into police files he one hundred percent did not swipe from his dad, he’s got somewhere to go. No more is he confined to slogging away within the four walls of his cramped and arguably dim apartment (he likes the vibe of his scattered ritual candles, but they don’t always do the trick for him, focus-wise). When he needs a change of pace, he can head downstairs for a three-minute walk to sugar and caffeination and sunlight.

And then there’s Peter, who’s trekked here four times already for dark roast coffees he continually claims are beneath him. Either he’s full of it, or he knows Stiles is more likely to peel away from his work if Peter’s within easy walking distance as well.

Presently, Stiles’s phone chimes with a text from a contact listed as Big Bad Creeperwolf, a label he hasn’t changed since their first meeting. (Anyway, it’s still accurate.) When Stiles checks his messages, there’s a snapshot of the Cuppa Life menu and a text that just reads, Unfortunate.

Stiles stares, squinting and wondering what Peter’s point is, but he can’t work it out. He could text back, or he could grab his current working bestiary from the bed and go around the corner to figure it out.

The place really is cute. They’re clearly going for that modern chic look, with chalkboard menus, lighted glass cases full of Instagram-ready pastries, and graphic art peppered across warm, red-bricked walls. At a glance, you wouldn’t know anything’s missing at all. Stiles only feels a little guilty about nicking his latest sign, inasmuch as he ever feels guilty about nicking anything (and then, you know, returning to the scene of the crime afterward). Look, the display was probably a free one the coffee brand shipped to the cafe as an ad. And Stiles is a regular customer now, and he always tips well, so it’ll probably even out in the end.

Peter’s snagged a table toward the front, right where the late fall sunlight streams in. It’s just barely warm enough that all the windows are folded to the side—they really are a nice touch, even if Peter’s right that they’re easy to sneak through—and when he spots Stiles walking past outside, he glances up with a knowing smirk. Because of course Stiles was going to jump up to visit. Annoying, Stiles thinks, how that one look sends a coil of pleasure into his stomach every time.

“That wasn’t an invitation to drop by,” Peter drawls, typing into his laptop, when Stiles appears at his table.

“Then you shouldn’t have announced your location, babe,” Stiles counters, dumping his book. The pet name slips off his tongue without thought again: he started using it ironically a few weeks back, almost taunting, just to dig at Peter for his condescending little “sweethearts” all the time, and now…

Peter smirks at the face he’s making. “Can’t stop it, can you? Cute.”

“Shut up,” Stiles says without bite. He sinks into the opposite chair, his attention catching on the little cardboard table menu. It’s done up in red, with glittering holly leaves, to cheerily advertise the seasonal specials. “About time! Peppermint hot chocolate?”

“Didn’t you see my text? We’ve gone from pumpkin spice to peppermint season,” Peter informs him, voice dripping with disdain. “It’s all Laura’s been complaining about for days.”

“Is that why you sent it?” Stiles asks distractedly, flipping the menu to check the drinks on the back. “And—wait, what are you even talking about? Peppermint’s the best.”

It’s all the good stuff, he finds: butterscotch caramel coffees, peppermint mochas, gingerbread spice cold brews, s’mores lattes. Man, this place does not disappoint. Stiles must have accidentally done a good deed to deserve it, but hell if he knows what it was.

It’s not until he lowers the menu that he sees Peter’s dismay. Too late, he picks up on the haughty tone, which is Peter’s default whenever they parry insults or dogpile on something they mutually believe to be garbage.

“Is that a joke?” Peter demands. “Peppermint is nature’s mildest poison. Who wants to eat something whose primary flavor is ‘cold?’ The whole place reeks of it now—even you should be able to smell it with that chunk of marble you call a nose. We’re going to have to avoid every cafe in town for the next two months.”

Stiles shakes his head, amused. “Every now and then, I feel really grateful I don’t have all your wolf stuff going on. There are definite downsides to super sniffers. But you’re right about pumpkin spice, I guess—that stuff’s a travesty. RIP to Laura and all the pumpkin spice girls probably crying into their scarves as we speak.”

“You’re a witch, and fall's barely over. Are you even allowed to voice a dislike of pumpkin spice?”

“I’m a spark and you know this. And yeah, I guess they’ll probably revoke my card,” Stiles jokes.

With his stuff now scattered across the table, he heads off to the counter, deliberating over his drink choices. He ends up going with the peppermint mocha, partly because he does, in fact, really love peppermint and needs to carpe diem the fuck out of it while it’s still in season, and partly because he knows it’ll annoy Peter.

Once he grabs his order and gets back to his seat, he takes his first taste while making pointed eye contact with the werewolf. Unfortunately, Peter’s crinkled nose just makes Stiles snort into the drink, and he ends up choking on a puff of whipped cream for his trouble.

“Lovely that I’m only learning now that you enjoy drinking toothpaste,” Peter snarks. He looks almost disgusted, but he’s still wearing the delighted smirk that means he’s back in his element. “What other dealbreakers don’t I know about you?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Stiles coughs, still laughing a little. “Out of all the shit I’ve done, peppermint’s the dealbreaker?”

“I already know about the live theater thing. The—musicals.”

“What, that I’ve witnessed some without fleeing the theater?” Stiles asks, covering his grin with a sip of his drink. It really is good, with just enough peppermint to boost the chocolatey taste of the mocha without being overpowering. “I stand by Heathers, my dude. J.D. is hot. I won’t apologize for that.”

“Sickening. What else do I need to know? Do you put motivational quotes in your email signature? Do you unironically follow astrology? If you’re a secret cryptobro, you’d better tell me before this goes any further.”

Stiles snickers into his drink. “No to all of the above. But if either of us was gonna turn into some condescending asshole trying to peddle something skeevy, it’d probably be you.”

“Excuse you.”

“Speaking of dealbreakers. Met this cute guy earlier today.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Did you now.”

“You’d better watch out.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Fat. Tan.”

“Tabby?”

“Maybe, but the fur was pretty long. I took pictures. Wanna see?”

He’s grinning: it’s a bluff, of course, and they both know it. Peter just grunts. There are few things the werewolf finds more boring than pictures of small animals. He’s insane that way. Like he would honestly rather pry his own eyes out than witness a cute cat displaying its belly for scratches. Stiles doesn’t even know what to do with him sometimes.

“Keep your beaus to yourself,” Peter replies, returning to his book.

“Your loss.” Stiles pulls his laptop to him, booting it up. “By the way, did I tell you Pudding’s rash is gone? Saw her this morning.”

“If I have to hear another word about cats,” Peter sighs, “and especially a cat’s skin condition, I’ll swear to god I’ll find a way to get you banned from this cafe.”

Stiles mimes zipping his lips and gets back to work, though Peter looks at him with distrust for a full minute before he resumes reading. But while Stiles does sometimes get a perverse sense of enjoyment from Peter’s poor attempts to feign interest in his interests, he’s got shit to do today. Peter’s off the hook. For now.

Harassment has always been one of Stiles’s love languages. At least when it comes to Peter.

The feeling is clearly mutual, though. And Stiles knows Peter well enough to tell he isn’t the type of guy who’d stick around if he were actually offended.

They’ve come a long way since their first meeting, the first formal introduction of their respective packs. Back then, they were all circling each other warily, a prospective alliance built on contract negotiations and polite adherence to ceremony.

Everyone except for Peter. Peter was an immensely egotistical shit the entire time—not that he did or said anything outright insulting, anything to make the McCall pack cut their losses and back out, just things that were right on the cusp. Snarky insinuations. Snubs. He clearly thought them an insignificant pack of amateur shifters, and bitten wolves at that, a term he used with this pitying tone that suggested he wanted to turn up his nose but wouldn’t for propriety’s sake. It rubbed Scott and Isaac the wrong way right off the bat, and even Kira got sour about it. And Kira believes in peace and forgiveness and pixie dust for literally everyone.

Maybe Stiles only found it so funny because he knew how wildly wrong Peter was about them. The McCall pack, after all, is a bad enemy to underestimate and a good ally to have in your back pocket.

And then, somewhere amidst the getting-to-know-yous and the haughty diplomacy, it became clear that sure, Peter may have been sneering and abrasive, but he backed a lot of the same things Stiles championed: an aggressive defense, strong tendencies toward revenge where appropriate, doling out the harshest possible punishments against offending packs. His mean streak, in fact, aligned very neatly with Stiles’s.

For half the alliance negotiations, Stiles found himself arguing beside Peter, who looked delighted at the unexpected support, especially when it was just the two of them against ultra-forgiving alphas who indulged their reasoning but came down firmly on the side of living and letting go and other bullshit.

“Fine,” Peter had said when it was all done. All pleasant and smirking, of course, because he’s always refused to show weakness after a loss. “Well, I’m sure none of us will ever regret this.”

Talia just rolled her eyes with the exasperation of someone who’d borne this kind of barbed statement all her life. And Peter turned and gave Stiles this meaningful look, the first of many designed to invite his judgment as well, as if to say Can you believe this? You and I are the only ones who truly understand.

Stiles was a little bit in love. Even then.

After they all dispersed for friendlier conversation, Stiles sidled up to him, phone held out imperiously. “Give me your number.” At Peter’s raised eyebrow, he added, “Don’t tell me you don’t want the backup. My alpha wasn’t the only one who said the words ‘minor territory breach’ like it’s not an oxymoron.”

It was hard to disagree. And Stiles wasn’t misreading the exasperation: by the time Peter finished entering his contact info, the werewolf had already begun to complain of all the extra work he often put in just for his own peace of mind given Talia’s relaxed policies. There were no known hunters or magical threats in the area—a feat only accomplished because of strict border enforcement, thanks very much—and the Hales were diligent about maintaining alliances with several nearby packs. But you never really knew. The Hale library, Peter added, was brimming with insights on defenses and known threats for that very reason.

Stiles perked up at the magic word. “A private library, huh? So…we’re officially allies now, right? When do I see it?”

Peter’s grin turned sly.

The attraction was clear as day. Even Stiles could read it, and most people’s flirtations went right over his head. Regardless, both of them were reluctant to make a move right away, both of them aware how disastrous the fallout could get for their respective packs if things went south between them. Or at least Stiles was aware of it, and Peter—perennial schemer that he is—must have at least considered it.

But maybe it was inevitable.

On a totally normal day, Stiles showed up uninvited at Peter’s, just to annoy him into loaning out a bestiary, and then they were just—on top of each other. It was the first and only time Stiles understood what people meant when they said they had sex by accident, a phrase he used to think was a stupid excuse people used for not bothering to control their own impulses, but holy shit, it was like someone just flipped a switch: one second they were staring, and the next second Peter’s tongue was down Stiles’s throat and Stiles was so fucking turned on that he was trying to climb him like a tree about it. He could not stop, could not stop for anything, like the only way out was forward, and forward meant tasting every inch of Peter’s skin.

The sex was amazing. Stiles was fucking wrecked. And of course when they came down, they said they should probably not do it again, absolutely never, because of pack reasons. And that they probably should not even mention it to anyone.

But those turned out to be more impulses they couldn’t rein in.

They became a thing. Somehow.

God knows they still rub each other the wrong way: Stiles is and always will be an annoying little shit, and Peter keeps making condescending offers to help broaden the tiny McCall pack—the implication being, again, that they aren’t perfectly fine as they are.

But somewhere along the way, Stiles has realized that all Peter’s stupid negging and random hints about his current location might be construed—if you looked at them through your dealing-with-a-manipulative-prick lens—as indirect attempts to coax Stiles into spending time with him. They’re the efforts of someone who has never bothered to invite anyone anywhere, and isn’t any good at it, and doesn’t even know how to do it without trying to manipulate the person in question into wanting it.

And now? Well. Peter’s never been one for grand, romantic gestures—he’s allergic—but it’s turned out okay. Do they have a relationship the average onlooker would describe as “normal” or “tender” or even “level-headed”? Hell no. But Stiles feels more comfortable with Peter than he does with just about anyone, and it’s clear Peter feels the same, and that’s enough.

Even now, the silence stretching between them is warm and companionable, with Stiles’s books and notes covering more than his fair share of the little table, and one of Peter’s legs stretched out beneath it to lean against Stiles’s, and the occasional question swapped between them to punctuate the calm.

A while later, after Stiles finishes the peppermint mocha and finds his limbs stiff, he stretches and returns to the front counter. When he comes back, he’s got a plain black coffee to replace Peter’s empty cup and, because he sometimes decides to be a just and merciful boyfriend, one of the gingerbread cold brews for himself instead of the peppermint.

That’s the kind of thing you end up doing when you get a little too invested. Not that Stiles would say it aloud.

Read the rest on AO3

#steter #steter fic #warning in advance that i will be having a little too much fun with this one #this is probably where i will be outing myself as a Christmas Freak #mine

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 1 year ago

Note

After being in complete denial about the movie for the past 2 days I want to know if you happen to have nah recommendation or some good fanfics that is either based on Harry Potter or in the Harry Potter universe I’d appreciate so much. I think I’ve been scarred by this movie completely 😬

Yes. I am always happy to share uncredited works of she-who-must-not-be-named.

Amortentia by raspberrylimonade

(1/1 I 1,113 I General I Stydia)

Potions was always terrible in the week leading up to the full moon. Scott’s already heightened sense of smell was especially sensitive during this time. All the scents and fumes, on top of the typically gunky smell of the poorly ventilated dungeons, drove his nose crazy.

Today they were brewing amortentia. It was a rather difficult potion. Half the class was over-excited and making mistakes, which meant weird smells hitting his nose from all directions.

And then there was Stiles and Lydia’s potions.

shirley temple, on the rocks by orphan_account

(1/1 I 3,006 I Teen I Sterek)

“Are you sure you’re a Gryffindor?” Derek says.

“The hat did try to put me in Slytherin,” Stiles shrugs. “But I asked for Gryffindor, so," and he drains his drink, crunching on the bits of syrupy ice at the bottom.

kickstarts again by 1001cranes

(1/1 I 3,544 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek has known Stiles was his mate since Fourth Year; Stiles keeps getting lost on the way to the Common Room - these two things may very well be related.

That Witch! by sapphireginger

(1/1 I 3,580 I Teen I Hermione/Stiles)

“Are any of your books damaged?” he asked, prepared to pay to fix them if needed.

The girl quirked a brow. “Would it matter if they were?”

Stiles nodded seriously. “Absolutely. Books are knowledge. The destruction of knowledge is blasphemous in my book. Anyone who says otherwise is a bloody fool and—”

“I’m sorry,” she said between giggles. “You’re American. I wasn’t expecting you to say ‘bloody’.”

Mischief Unleashed by Artemis_Charmed for one-fandom-became-all-fandoms (Sara36913)

(1/1 I 6,241 I Teen I Sterek)

The thing was, magic was real. And the entire school was magical. Literally. The stairs moved; statues winked. There was a room that seemed to be around when you required it. So nothing should surprise him. Except. There was a large black wolf lying in a corner, under the half moon light shining through the window.

"The Enigma: Shadows of Magic" by uronthinicepal

(2/63 I 6,512 I Mature I Sterek)

When Stiles Stilinski finds himself at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he's placed in Ravenclaw. In a world where werewolves and wizards exist in the same universe. Instead of Scott navigating his own way, he is sent to Ilvermony, the school for magic in America, to assimilate into werewolf life. Stiles is magic, he is a spark. He is sent to Hogwarts to learn and for his own safety. Join Stiles on his enigmatic journey into the world of magic, where the unexpected can become the greatest hero. Oh, and Derek's here too.

Hufflepuffs Are Awesome by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion

(1/1 I 10,524 I Teen I Sterek)

"My fierce firecracker,” Stiles gasps out, between laughs, “my precious little shortfuse.”

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek says, his voice muffled as he hides his face in his hands.

“Captain Aggro, defending my honour,” Stiles chokes out, heaving himself upright. “My champion of love.”

“If you don’t shut up,” Derek warns him, “this bed is going to be your only companion for the next month.”

Or the one where Derek and Stiles are in Hogwarts, and there are shenanigans.

Dead Faint by MaddieStilinski

(1/1 I 29,872 I Not Rated I Sterek)

A few things happened in very quick succession once the potion had left Stiles’ hand. Derek brought it up to his eyes to look at it, shook it a little and uncorked it.

It took Stiles a couple of delayed moments to notice two very important things. The first, being the iridescent colours that danced across the top when Derek shook the potion. The second, that the room had started to spin around him. From very far away, Stiles registered the calming potion in Derek’s hand, transparent where it should have been blue. Derek brought the potion to his lips.

‘Wait-‘ Stiles started. Then, the room still spinning, he collapsed in a dead faint.

Moonwalkers by twinklingpaopufruit

(68/68 I 531,781 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles had his entire Seven Years of Hogwarts all planned out:

Prank and Prank Hard. Woo Lydia Martin. Avoid detention and Potions at all cost. Have crazy fun.

Enter brooding werewolf to send this plan to the bottom of the Black Lake.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #hogwarts au #stydia #lydia martin

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transdunbar · 11 months ago

Text

for @theoraekenapperciation Day 1: Mistletoe

It started after a pack meeting. There was some new threat to Beacon Hills, because the universe was steadfastly against giving the residents of the town a break from the supernatural, and Theo had been called in to help. Like always, he had stood in a random corner of the McCall house, trying his best to turn invisible while the McCall pack debated on what to do. Like always, Liam (and sometimes Scott, ever the peacemaker) piped up to try and loop him into the conversation, and, like always, the pack neatly looped him back out of it after he had answered. The meeting couldn’t have ended fast enough, and as soon as Scott gave the dismissal he was making a beeline for the door and ignoring Liam calling his name.

He had just closed the door of his truck, keys barely in the ignition, when someone quite literally slapped the roof of his car. He jumped, turning to find Stiles practically leaning in through the driver’s side window. His freckled face was unreadable, but Theo could smell the contempt rolling off of him, something that never completely went away whenever he was in the chimera’s presence. There was also a hint of amusement and mischief, but Theo was beginning to think that was just this baseline scent at that point.

“What do you want, Stiles?” Theo asked.

“There’s an abandoned warehouse on Sunnyside Street, about two miles past the train tracks. The deputies don’t have it on their patrol route, so if someone were to, say, park their obnoxiously large truck behind it, they wouldn’t be disturbed or brought into the station every three days for loitering,” came Stiles’ response.

It was very obviously some sort of olive branch, he could tell that much. Even so, Theo found himself frozen for a second, brain turning and twisting to try and come up with a reason why Stiles would voluntarily help him. He wasn’t as good at hiding things as he used to be, however, because Stiles took one look at his (probably very confused) face and huffed out something that resembled a laugh.

“You look like hell warmed over, dude. You’re obviously not taking care of yourself, and even someone as evil as you deserves to have several hours of uninterrupted sleep a night. It’s not gonna completely fix you, but it’s a start.”

“And you’re just telling me this out of the goodness of your heart, not because you want to know where I am at all times, right?”

“Hey, it serves a dual purpose. Now get going,” Stiles said. He thumped on the roof of Theo’s truck twice more, inspecting something that he apparently found there, before wandering off again. Theo blinked once, twice, then started his truck and peeled off down the street, the human’s weird antics all but forgotten.

--------

There was someone tapping on the glass again. Theo groaned, shaking himself out of his sleep and cursing the Stilinski name. Stiles had said that the deputies didn’t patrol this part of town, but he should have known that Stiles would have pulled something like this and had lied to get him arrested again. Maybe his goal was to kill Theo via sleep deprivation by putting him directly in the deputies’ path.

The tapping sounded again while Theo was brainstorming ways to hide Stiles’ body, and he groaned again as he sat up.

“Alright, alright, I’m—”

Theo opened his eyes, intending to placate whichever deputy had found him this time, only to be met with wide, concerned blue eyes belonging to one Liam Dunbar.

“Liam?”

“Theo, what are you doing out here?” Liam asked after Theo had rolled down the window. “Shouldn’t you be at home?”

“I know academics aren’t really your strong suit, Dunbar, but I would have thought you’d be smart enough to put two and two together,” Theo sighed, flopping back down in the seat. Liam was blessedly quiet for all of five seconds before the yelling started. Theo sighed, tuning most of it out by putting the sweatshirt he had been using as a pillow over his face. He wasn’t sure how long the werewolf went on, whining about how Theo should have told someone and how the pack would have helped, but eventually he seemed to realize Theo wasn’t listening and petered off.

“Theo? Are you even listening, dude?”

“Not really,” Theo answered.

“Why not?”

“Because you woke me up just to yell at me. Of course I’m not gonna listen to that.”

Liam huffed, and Theo didn’t have to take the sweatshirt off of his face to imagine the way he crossed his arms, or his face scrunched up in irritation in a way that Theo secretly found adorable.

“Why are you even here, Liam?” Theo asked.

“This is part of my patrol route. You would have known that if you had paid attention at the pack meeting. Now why are you here?”

“After the meeting, Stiles told me this part of town was deputy-free, so I could get a decent night’s sleep and he could know where I was sleeping in case I ever did anything evil and he needed to kill me,” Theo answered.

“... Stiles was the one who made the patrol routes,” Liam mumbled. “I wonder if—”

“Yeah, he obviously did it on purpose, Liam. Now can I please get back to sleep?”

“No way.”

Theo groaned. He sat up again, but only to reach out and attempt to roll the window back up, but Liam’s hand was faster. He grabbed Theo’s forearm, using his werewolf strength to keep Theo’s hand from reaching the buttons as he fixed Theo with a stern glare.

“I’m not letting you sleep in your truck, Theo. Come back home with me.”

“If you wanted to get me in bed, all you had to do was say so.”

Liam rolled his eyes, but Theo still caught the rising blush on his cheeks, the way his chemosignals gained just the faintest hint of arousal. If Theo were any less tired, he would have grabbed hold of that thread and elaborated on it so he could see how flustered he could make the werewolf, but as it was he just sighed and turned away.

“Hey, by the way, why do you have mistletoe taped to your car?”

“What?” In a flash, Theo had stuck his entire upper body out of the car window, twisting around so that he could see what Liam was referring to. Sure enough, someone— Theo had a sneaking suspicion as to who— had stuck a sprig of mistletoe to the roof of his car with thick, black duct tape. He was vaguely impressed that it hadn’t fallen off on his ride around town earlier trying to find the warehouse.

“I’ll bet you five dollars it was Stiles,” Theo muttered as he climbed back inside of his truck.

“Well, uh,” Liam mumbled, his face turning even redder, “you know what they say about mistletoe, right?”

“That it could kill us?”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Before Theo could defend his honor, Liam was leaning in, and oh. He must be really tired to have missed that.

Everything made sense the moment Liam’s lips touched his. Stiles telling him about the warehouse, the patrol routes, the mistletoe— Theo was either going to murder him for real this time or get him some sort of gift basket. Stiles had wanted this to happen, had known that Liam would run into Theo and would take the bait with the mistletoe. Theo wondered how Stiles had deduced that they had been harboring feelings for each other, since apparently neither of them figured it out without his help, but then Liam’s tongue was sliding against his lip, asking for entrance, and Theo found that he didn’t want to think about Stiles anymore as his hand came up to gently cradle the back of Liam’s neck.

“Now will you come home with me?” Liam asked when they finally broke apart.

“I might need a little more convincing.”

--------

When Theo woke up the next morning, warm and comfortable with Liam curled up half on top of his chest, he found that he had a new text on his phone, something that hadn’t happened in months.

Stiles Stilinski: im guessing the mistletoe worked, then?

Theo: you would make an excellent evil genius with a brain like that

Stiles Stilinski: you’re welcome, raeken

Stiles Stilinski: also, if you and liam start making out in front of everyone like he did with hayden, i’m ending you myself

#theo raeken #liam dunbar #thiam #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #theochristmasweek23 #sorry this is late :(#i'll have day two's up before the end of the day today

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