#literally second only to stiles stilinski

[darkintothedawn]

RUNWAY FEVER || Stiles Stilinski 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Stiles Stilinski x female reader

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

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

Word Count — 3013

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

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

But the only thing on your mind is him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not discreetly. At all.

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

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

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

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

“You’ve adjusted yourself like five times.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

She’s stunning.

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

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

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

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

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

And sure enough—there he is.

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

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

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

The ego boost hits.

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

Yeah. Yeah, that feels really good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The show has officially begun.

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

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

You’re fifth in line.

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

Fourth in line.

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

Third in line.

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

Second in line.

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

Then suddenly—it’s you.

You step around the corner, and the world erupts.

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

The cameras. The people. The nerves.

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

It’s all muscle memory.

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

Before you even process it, it’s over.

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

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

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

You exhale, shaking out your hands.

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

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

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

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

It’s done. You did it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your cheeks heat instantly. “Oh my God.”

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

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

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

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

God, it’s perfect.

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

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

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

And the second he sees you?

Yeah, you’re in for it.

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

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

Then, just as you reach him—

“Oh my God, babe.”

It starts immediately.

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

You blink, caught off guard. “Uh—”

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

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

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

You bite your lip, fighting a massive grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[kitkatwinchester]

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)

[seasprincess]

Stiles Stilinski x female reader

a chemistry project with a lot of chemistry

a/n: (that was a funny one thanks)

warnings: none just fluff!!

Stiles Stilinski is the biggest worrier in the world. All his friends know it.

However Stiles, well he has no clue just how much he worries. He can’t see it. It’s normal to him.

But it’s evident now as he scouts his room, making sure it’s all clean. Plumping up the pillows on his bed. He wants this to be perfect. He wants you to think the best of him.

God you’re only coming for the chemistry project. He’s acting like it’s an army inspection. That he’s going to get flamed if there is a spot of dust on his desk.

What if you think bad of him? What if you’re not comfortable? What if. What if. What if.

The doorbell signals your arrival and gives him a heart attack. He’s having to mentally prepare himself for this for the past day. You sprung on the question of doing the project at his house. He got excited and said yes a little bit too fast. Now he’s rather regretting it.

He’s had many people over to his house. And by many people he means Scott thousands of times.

Never has he had a girl over, especially not in his room.

“I got some chocolate if you want some?” Stiles says as he looks at you. Making sure you’re okay.

For the past couple hours Stiles has been checking in on you. And as sweet as it is. It is a lot.

“Or I can get you s-“

“Stiles.” As you say his name he shuts up, for the first time ever Stiles is quiet. Not that it will last. “I’m okay. Thank you.”

You smile at him and all he can do is melt. He thinks you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. He’s never felt this way about someone, not even Lydia. And that was bad.

From the moment you joined the school he knew he liked you. The way you’d crack jokes, be sarcastic and get anxious at a lot of things.

You were so similar to him it made him connect with you instantly.

“Just let me know if you need anything.”

Gosh is he the sweetest. He’s been so kind to you since that day in chemistry where he invited you to sit with him. Joking between each other which eventually led you here. To his room.

On his bed.

“You’ve never watched Star Wars?!” Stiles’ eyebrows shoot up as he looks at you, sitting up a bit taller at your confession. God he is shocked out of his mind. “You’ve never watched Star Wars?!” He repeats again in utter disbelief. He feels he’s been stabbed in the heart. The girl he likes has bever seen his favourite franchise.

“I’m sorry!” You say as you hold your hands up in mock surrender. Smiling away as you look at him. You’ve noticed the posters of Star Wars in his room, the multiple shirts that are Star Wars themed that he owns.

You’ve just committed an act of treason in this house. “It’s just not my thing.”

“But it’s one of the greatest franchises in the history of cinema. I mean the whole concept of another-”

Stiles continues to ramble on about it. Not even pausing for a breath as he just keeps talking. That’s one thing you have noticed about him. He never shuts up.

Ever.

So you decide to take things into your own hands. Literally.

Your hands cup his cheeks as you look at him. His mouth closing and eyes looking onto you. Staring at you as he freezes up.

You smile at him before he leans in and kisses you. One way to shut him up.

For at least a couple of seconds.

“Shit I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” He says as he pulls away, panicking like he’s late for something. He’s just fucked everything up. He thought it was going well too. Good job Stiles.

“You’re okay. It’s fine.” You say softly to calm the anxious boy down.

Unknown to him he didn’t fuck it up. Not at all. You’ve been wanting him to kiss you ever since you first laid eyes on him. Embarrassingly you’ve imagined it. Not that he’ll ever know.

You grab his cheek again before pressing your lips to his, slowly kissing the boy that’s been in your mind for the past month.

After a couple moments you pull back smiling. Stiles smile beaming on his face before he opens his mouth.

“Still can’t believe you haven’t seen Star Wars.”

a/n: i love stiles

divider- @tsunami-of-tears

tags- @mayfieldss @inlovewithdob

[mysticallystilinski]

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

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

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.

[princesssmars]

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.

[the-bat-writes-imagines]

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.

[theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming]

Welcome to the first installment of:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[obriengf]

"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?

[princeescaluswords]

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 being 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.

[putalabelonit]

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.

••••••

[itseyaaaa]

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.

[elisela]

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.”

[night-daily]

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.

[amatchinwater]

So, hey. 👀 I have a prompt. 👀 Actually, I have two, and I hope it's okay I'll send them in one 🥰

"“i’ll kiss you right now to prove i don’t feel anything for you” but the kiss proves the exact opposite"" for Stisaac

"i’m watching you date all these other people and i don't know what it is i'm feeling but it's definitely not jealousy" for Steo (preferably with jealous Theo because I love jealous Theo 😍 But you don't have to. I'm gonna love it either way. 🥰 )

Gods, I don't even want to think about how old this ask is 🤦‍♀️ but I finally got the second one done!! Thank you, babes 💚💚

Pairing: Steo

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken Mason Hewitt, Tracy Stewart, Corey Bryant, unnamed OG male character,

Warnings: drinking, rejection, mentions of past Sterek, Stiles thinks he can drink and fuck the breakup pain away, irritated Theo, jealous Theo

Words: 3033

Prompt: jealousy prompt in ask, thanks again, Laura 💚

Ao3 link Masterlist

---

Do you know what it feels like to have happiness? True happiness. Only to have it yanked away from you with no hope of stopping it?

Stiles does.

Twice in his life, aside from his mother’s death, has it happened. Once in the form of his childhood best friend and schoolyard crush Theo moving away shortly after a death in both of their families. Right when they probably needed each other the most. The second, and arguably the worst, was Derek Hale breaking up with him and also leaving town…and the country. 

At least Theo kept in touch, Derek cut him off cold turkey. 

It hurt like a mother fucker.

Even now with a healthy pack and a good life, six months later, Stiles still doesn’t feel quite whole. Like the wound is still fresh without an ounce of scar tissue in sight. 

“Are you coming tonight?” Tracy asks, flopping on the couch next to him and setting her feet in his lap. “Or are you finally staying home?” 

He doesn’t miss the suggestion in the kanima’s tone. That Stiles should stay home tonight. But the fox won’t. A fact they’re both more than aware of. 

Stiles will go to the club like every other time. Searching for someone with a hero complex insisting they can help him forget his ex. They mostly do. For the duration they’re in the fox’s bed at least. The moment the post-coital haze clears, Stiles is missing Derek all over again. Feeling guilty for what he’s done for the hundredth time. 

Because that’s the thing about rebounding with a bunch of strangers that no one tells you about. You’re still the same broken shell of a person afterwards. Nothing changes just because you had an orgasm. You’re still hurt. 

“Of course he’s going,” Theo huffs, all but stomping off the last step.

And he’s right. Even though Stiles knows it won’t make him feel better, he can’t stop.

“When are we leaving?” The fox asks, making Theo scoff. “What’s your problem?” He asks, rolling his eyes towards his Alpha.

“Nothing at all,” Theo mumbles in annoyance from the kitchen. “I’m staying home tonight, let me know when you guys are heading back,” the Alpha stalks back upstairs without another word.

Right. Okay, Stiles should probably back up a bit. He mentioned having a healthy pack now. With Derek gone, it’s obviously not the Hales. But Scott isn’t his Alpha either. When Theo came back to Beacon Hills at the beginning of their senior year, he and Stiles reconnected as if he’d never left. He was an Alpha and quickly built a pack of stray supernatural creatures both Scott and Stiles didn’t even know existed. 

Well, they knew about kanimas. But not raijus or that were-jaguars were a thing. Or that there were creatures that could turn invisible! Nor that kids they went to school with were supernatural and right under their noses. Granted, Stiles was a human at the time and literally never would’ve known. 

What bothered Scott the most is hard to say. Unclear to which straw finally broke the camel’s back. It’s always possible that it was just a culmination of everything that got to the True Alpha. In part, it definitely had to do with the fact that Theo wouldn’t relinquish his title as Alpha because Scott asked him to. And he shouldn’t have either, in Stiles’ opinion. The coyote got his power fair and square by his Alpha passing it on. 

Then it boiled down to how close he and Theo became.

They were best friends before Stiles even met Scott. Even over the years when they stayed in touch, there never felt like distance between them. There’s nothing that Theo doesn’t know about. No secrets. 

At first it started with Stiles already having plans with the coyote. But eventually it progressed to Stiles forgetting about pack nights because he was with Theo. And then the Alpha asked if he’d think about joining his pack since he sees Scott so little and seems happier with Theo.

Saying yes had never been so easy. 

He even accepted the bite.

Because Theo was absolutely right. After Allison, there was always an uncomfortable air around Scott and Stiles. On the surface, the fox was happier.

Not happy. But happier.

So off to Sinema he goes. Pack in tow save for their Alpha.

“What are the chances I can get you to be my wingman tonight?” Josh asks, looping an arm around the fox’s shoulder. “I need some of that luck you always seem to possess.”

Any other night, Stiles probably would’ve said yes. But for some reason Derek is at the forefront of his mind tonight. And there’s something clearly pissing Theo off. So for the sake of not thinking about either Alpha, the fox knocks back his fourth- fifth?- wolfsbane infused drink courtesy of Hayden.

Throwing a wink at the raiju, Stiles says, “watch and learn young padawan.” He can’t focus on fully helping Josh right now. But if he pays attention, it could work out for him.

It did with Corey and Mason.

Grated, Mason was so far gone on Corey, he didn’t really need to do much to get the human. 

Feeling that last cocktail settle in his blood, Stiles makes his way towards the dancefloor. It wasn’t until after Derek that the fox realized just how much he likes dancing. Or the fact that once he loosens up, Stiles is actually pretty good at it too. Moving through the sea of gyrating bodies, he finds himself a nice little space off the center.

That’s his trick. He’s close enough to the outside that someone sitting down can see him. But he’s also enough in the crowd that people on the dancefloor have eyes on him too. The more visible you are, the more chance you have of taking someone home. 

It takes no time at all for someone’s hands to find his waist. Stiles doesn’t even bother to push people away anymore. Company is his goal after all. So when the person pulls him close, grinding the fox against him, Stiles lifts his hands up, curling his fingers into their short strands. 

When the song changes, the body behind him makes no effort to move. So Stiles takes the initiative to turn around, see who’s interested. He’s surprised to find someone who looks like they could be Derek’s body double. It’s almost scary. But it deals the deal for the fox. Determination setting in to take this guy home. Maybe one last hook up, this time with Derek Lite, will be just what Stiles needs.

“Hey, handsome,” the fox lightly slurs over the music, “what are the chances I can get you to go home with me?”

Blunt and to the point.

Works every time.

The hands fall from his waist, the stranger’s face softening. “I’m sorry,” he leans in, not knowing that Stiles can hear him perfectly. “I was just looking for someone to dance with and you’re really good. You’re not my type, sorry.”

“Right. ‘Course, have a good night,” Stiles says, biting his remark away. The ‘you rub your boner on me but I’m not your type, huh?’ stings the back of his throat. The fox leaves the dance floor, making a beeline for the exit. 

That always works.

It didn’t work on Derek either.

Okay, that’s just fucking rude. The voice in his head has no right to say shit like that. Derek wasn’t some guy in a club. He was a good Alpha and brother who left town to protect his sister.

That doesn’t help it sting any less that an essential carbon copy of the Alpha rejected him.

The fresh air hits his face and all of the alcohol Stiles consumed makes itself known He’s not going to throw up, but he feels how much he had to drink. The fox doesn’t stop moving until he gets to the alley on the side of the club. Crouching down, Stiles puts his head in his hands.

He should be over this by now. Why the fuck does it still hurt so much? The fox’s eyes sting with tears. Drunk or not, he’s not going to fucking cry.

He won’t.

A hand rests on the fox’s shoulder, Josh’s scent filling his nostrils. It’s a comfort like no other. Stiles doesn’t know what he’d do without the raiju. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“He broke me,” Stiles snaps, looking up at his best friend with blurry eyes. “I’m broken, Josh,” the fox sobs, tears spilling down his cheeks. He said he wasn’t going to cry, dammit. But here he is, one simple question from the raiju- one he could’ve said no to- and Stiles’ drunken brain releases the floodgates. 

He feels pathetic.

“But you’re not,” Josh speaks softly.

“Yes, I am!” Stiles sniffles, angrily wiping his face dry. “I’m not his type,” the fox scoffs, “Derek left me.”

“Okay, well fuck both of them. They’re idiots if they can’t see how great you are.” Josh looks at him earnestly, “but I also don’t think sleeping with a bunch of nameless faces is going to make you feel better. Kinda seems like it’s been doing the opposite.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look,” the raiju sighs, “I’m not trying to piss you off or control you. I’m just trying to help you. It’s kind of my job.”

Josh is right. Stiles knows that. But how else is he supposed to get by? Who else is going to want someone as damaged as him?

“How about instead of hooking up with everyone you can,” Tracy rounds the corner of the building, “you take a look at what’s right in front of you.”

Stiles, rather drunk and confused, looks at his best friend who is indeed in front of him. 

“You mean Josh?” Don’t get him wrong, his best friend is rather easy on the eyes. But that’d be like dating his brother. No, thank you.

The raiju laughs.

“Oh my god,” Tracy groans, scrubbing her face in aggravation. “You are not that dumb or blind,” the kanima scoffs. Stiles gives her a blank stare and shrugs. “For the love of- Theo! He’s in love with you, you idiot!”

Stiles’ heart stops.

“Bullshit,” he snorts. “Theo doesn’t even look at me like that.” If he did, Stiles would’ve tried something with his childhood crush a long time ago. Theo’s hot and nice and actually cares about him. He gently hits Josh’s arm, “tell her to stop fucking with me.”

Josh pulls a face, lifting a shoulder, “she’s not.”

Stiles’ heart stops again.

Then he laughs. A full on giggle fit that doesn’t stop even when they get him in the car. Laughs as he explains his behavior to Mason and Corey. But when they pull into the driveway and they give him the same look Josh had, Stiles sobers up real quick.

They’re home.

And Theo’s inside.

Theo.

Who doesn’t like, but loves him. 

What’s breathing? Stiles has forgotten how to do it, but he’s pretty sure it’s something that’s supposed to be automatic, not a conscious choice of inhaling and exhaling.

“Uh, hey guys,” Mason’s voice echoes beside him in the back seat, poking his shoulder.

“What?” Josh asks, putting the car in park.

Tracy actually turns around, “oh shit.”

“What?” The raiju repeats, looking behind him, “shit. Stiles?”

The fox is frozen, staring at the house. Full of alcohol and nervous energy. “He’s going to think I’m a whore,” Stiles mutters, his brain running a stomach churning montage of all of the people he’s slept with. 

All the while Theo knew about and said nothing in the way of disapproval. Unless you count his attitude. 

Gods, Stiles feels like such an idiot.

The kanima cackles. Actually cackles, “oh, honey. If anything Theo is just jealous and upset you’ve never let him grace your bed.”

“Why do you think he was so upset tonight?” Mason asks, rubbing the back of the fox’s neck. Even as a human he understands how to calm them down.

That would explain the Alpha’s attitude, sure. But still, “Why did he never say anything?”

Everyone in the car gives him a shrug.

“Guess you’ll have to ask him yourself,” Corey says, leaning over Mason and Stiles to open the car door.

“What?” The fox looks back and forth and before he knows it, the couple shoves him out of the car. If not for his supernatural reflexes, Stiles would’ve eaten the concrete.

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Josh yells through Tracy’s open window.

What?

The car door slams closed, tires squealing in its haste to get out of the driveway before the fox can react.

“Dicks,” Stiles mumbles, turning and facing the house. 

His body really wants to go into flight mode. Guess it’s time to put his big boy pants on. His heart picks up, fingers shaking trying to use the key to unlock the front door, one thought nagging him.

Has he been hurting Theo this whole time?

“Dammit,” he squeezes his eyes closed, pushing open the door. The only sound inside the house is his Alpha’s heartbeat. Too quick to be sleeping. A page turns. “Theo,” Stiles calls out, closing and relocking the front door.

Please don’t ignore him.

Please.

There’s a pause followed by a sigh, “In my room.” 

His heart is thundering in his chest. Yes, the revelation from the pack sobered him up, but the fox isn’t sober. There’s still a buzz in his head and a slight wobble to his legs. Stiles very carefully walks up the stairs to the Alpha’s room. The one right next to his. At least their walls are soundproof, so unless a door is open, you can’t hear shit. 

Meaning Theo never had to hear Stiles with the people he brought home. 

The smallest of consolations because Theo still knew they were there.

When Stiles makes it to the Alpha’s room, Theo is propped against his headboard reading Catching Fire. No shirt on and gray joggers. He is a sight to see. Why the hell did Stiles never even flirt with the guy? He’s more than aware of how hot Theo is. Maybe the fox just didn’t want to ruin their friendship. Or step over any pack bounds. 

Excuses, honestly.

“Hey,” Stiles says a breath above a whisper. His tipsy brain says the best course of action is why not try for some flirtatious humor to break the tension? “You waitin’ up for me, handsome?” The fox leans against the doorframe with a grin.

“No one warming your bed tonight?” Theo asks in a sour tone. Not even bothering to look up from his book, simply turning the page. 

Alcohol takes control of Stiles’ tongue, “I was hoping you would.” 

It’s unmistakable. The rush of arousal coming off the coyote. His fingers twitch against his book. “So they told you.” But Theo still doesn’t look up.

“They might have informed me that I’m a moron,” Stiles says, stepping over the threshold. “That I had someone much better right here the whole time.”

That gets Theo’s attention. He looks up from his book, eyes flickering red for the smallest of seconds.

He’s getting to Theo.

“I don’t want your pity,” the Alpha closes his book. “You’re only here because it’s convenient. A fall back because no one came home with you.” Theo’s voice is full of something Stiles can’t quite place. Anger? Sadness? His words hurt just the way that Theo must hurt when he says, “You don’t actually want me.”

The fox snorts, filter nonexistent, “Are you jealous that people come home with me?”

Theo tosses his book on the nightstand, getting up from his bed. The fox is ready to drool. All he needs is to get his hands on the coyote. But Theo stays just a step away, “I’m watching you fuck all of these other people and I don’t know what it is I’m feeling,” Theo’s heart skips. “But it’s not jealousy.”

“Liar,” Stiles says confidently. Never once feeling so bold and so fucking nervous at the same time.

The Alpha scoffs, giving him a tongue in cheek smile. When their eyes meet, Theo crosses his arms to his chest, stepping closer, “I’m not lying, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Stiles’ mouth dries out. Throat clicking when he swallows. Does the Alpha realize how he looks and sounds? He is growing determined to get Theo to crack. He’s putting on a face so that Stiles won’t know he’s getting to him.

As if he can’t smell it.

Unless Theo’s trying to be done.

The fox gets an idea. He nearly purrs at the thought. If Theo wants to drop it, he’ll let him. But if he doesn’t…

“Okay,” Stiles quips, “if that’s what you really want. For the record, it’s not pity, I’d never have stepped foot in the club in the first place had I known you had feelings for me too. But I guess I’ll just leave you be then” He turns to leave, ready to walk away if that’s really what the coyote wants. 

No matter how much it might hurt.

Theo’s hand curls around his wrist. “Don’t you dare walk away from me,” the Alpha growls, words charged and breath thick. “I can’t-” Theo takes a controlled breath, sounding small and vulnerable, “I can’t watch you walk away again.”

“Then don’t,” Stiles whispers, unable to properly breathe either. “I’m yours…if you want that,” that fox turns around meeting rubies. 

“Not just for the night, sweetheart,” Theo sounds like he’s begging, yanking the fox close. His arm wraps around the small of Stiles’ back, keeping him there.

Stiles gulps, imagining this very situation since he was a kid, “However long you want me.”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” Theo tells him, eyes still glowing red, fingers twitching against his back. 

“Try me,” Stiles retorts, kissing Theo’s response away. 

The Alpha doesn’t pull back other than to drag Stiles to his bed. 

Needless to say, Stiles doesn’t return to Sinema again unless it’s with Theo on his arm. Nor does he sleep in his own room anymore. Theo’s room became theirs. 

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

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.