#not even the supernatural is willing to go up against Lydia Martin

[usermischief]

♜Pairing: Briles ♜Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Brett Talbot, Lydia Martin, Jackson Whittemore, Liam Dunbar ♜Tags/Warnings: getting together, cocky Brett, oblivious Stiles (kind of) ♜Words: 3,132

ao3

---

There are multiple reasons Stiles despises returning to Beacon Hills, the supernatural shenanigans are just a small fraction of it. Mostly, it’s the memories too many places here harbor – and then there is his love life, or rather, the walking and talking reminder of the lack thereof.  

“You’re staring.” Lydia taps a finger against her red cup and studies him with a quirked brow and a slight smile. They might be best friends for years now, but he will forever be unsettled by her stares.

Stiles purses his lips. “I’m not.”

“Sweetheart,” Lydia sighs and leans back in her chair, “you’ve been staring at Brett since he walked in, and instead of going over to him, you’ve been sulking next to me.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“Oh, please.” Jackson collapses in his previously vacated chair. “It’s like you’re taking personal offence to Talbot being in the vicinity, which, if you’re asking me-“

“I’m literally not-“

“- is ridiculous,” Jackson continues as if Stiles never even opened his mouth. “You could have anyone here, but you chose Talbot?” Typical, the guy just loves to hear himself talk.

Stiles lets out a breath before emptying his drink. This conversation feels like he should consider going home. He’s got to pick up his grandparents from the airport tomorrow anyway. “I’ll head home now.”

“But it makes sense.” Lydia crosses her legs, eyes roaming over the other partygoers in the living room. “Brett is just one more person Stiles believes to be unavailable. It’s easier to go for someone like that otherwise he might have to let someone in again.” Her smirk is uncomfortable enough that Stiles nearly jumps out of his chair.

Smiling as politely as possible, he shoves his chair under the table. “There are at least fifteen other people you can psychoanalyze, sweetheart.” Stiles glances around the room, briefly studying the more or less wasted teenagers and college students. They’re mostly Liam’s friends and cousins. Nobody is particularly interesting, but Stiles also doesn’t know a lot of them. If he’s entirely honest, he doesn’t know the name of at least half of them.

“Oh, don’t be silly.” Lydia takes a sip of her drink, still smirking at him with that annoyingly cooked brow. “Nobody here is nearly as interesting as you are.” Which also means, fucked. If she didn’t have a point, Stiles would be offended. But, to be honest, nobody here is as interesting as Brett Talbot, who has, as of right now, never left his field of vision. Even though they haven’t spoken since they greeted each other three hours ago, Brett has never been as long around him as he’s been now.

Still, that Brett is even here, feels like a giant joke of the universe but by the looks of it, they managed to put their differences aside.

Much to Stiles’ chagrin.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” Stiles waves his friends goodbye before pulling his phone out to order an Uber. In any other city, he’d walk home. But he’s not going to risk anything in Beacon Hills.

“Love you,” Lydia calls after him.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles leaves the kitchen to Jackson’s snickering. He dodges Nolan and Gabe, having one of their usual spats in the middle of the hallway, and pulls up his app. There aren’t a lot of Uber drivers in Beacon Hills, much less ones who are willing to drive around this hellhole at 3am in the morning. People may not know about the supernatural world, but they do know that something weird is going on in this town.

He's willing to wait for a while, especially outside and way from—

“Hey, Stilinski.” Brett passes him in the entry and walks through the front door facing him. It really shouldn’t be all that impressive, but all Stiles can think about is that he would’ve broken at least four bones in his body — one on each stair.

Stiles lowers his phone and takes the other boy in like he’s done all night, tight black shirt, tight blue jeans and a crooked grin that makes Stiles feel all kind of things – none of them PG. Fuck, he really needs to get laid again. Fuck. He blinks. “Hey.” Swallowing, he taps his thumb against his phone. The longer he hesitates to call an Uber, the longer he’ll have to stay here and run the risk of either being psychoanalyzed even further or make an utter fool out of himself. The latter seems a lot more likely as long as Brett is grinning at him like a kid in a candy store.

“Going home already?” Brett raises his brows, twirling keys around his index fingers.

Humming in agreement, Stiles raises his phone. “About to call someone to pick me up.” He’s aware he makes it sound like somebody is waiting for him. Lydia would probably call it a defense mechanism.

She might be right.

But Brett doesn’t seem too concerned about that. “I could take you home.” Ever so confident. It shouldn’t be that fucking hot.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles is raising his brows. “You’re drunk.” Or at the very least, Brett has been drinking alcohol in the past couple of hours, and he’s sure Liam spiked most of the drinks so even the werewolves around are able to get wasted.

“I’m not drunk.” Brett actually looks offended for a second. “Satomi would rip me a new one, if I ever got behind the wheel wasted.” Sounds like someone would get along beautifully with his dad.

Stiles bites the inside of his cheek. Call an Uber. Just call the damn Uber, Stilinski. He lets out a breath. “Prove it.”

Idiot.

“And how,” Brett asks as he’s stepping closer with a smirk now firmly set in place, “would you like me to prove that, Officer Stilinski?”

“Special Agent, actually.”

“Damn,” Brett breathes, his soft looking lips parting.

Stiles really wants to kiss him right now.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Impressive.” Brett twirls his key around his finger again. “But you still gotta tell how to prove to you I’m sober enough to take you home.”

The words are ringing in his ears, so loud that Stiles has to clear his throat to hear his thoughts again. Take you home. Those three fucking words shouldn’t have such an impact on him. It’s a simple statement, no need to freak out. “Close your eyes, touch your nose.” His voice is nowhere near as steady as he would like it to be.

Chuckling, Brett steps away and does as he told.

Of course, he nails it.

Stiles gets the feeling he will end up in Brett’s car tonight. His stomach flutters. He tugs on his shirt, suddenly feeling very restricted in his button-up, and bites his bottom lip. That’s what he wants. It’s what he’s been wanting for a while. Besides, if he ends up going home with Brett, he can prove Lydia wrong.

Because she’s wrong.

He’s not afraid of letting people in. Not at all. He doesn’t go on dates because his job won’t let him. That’s the only reason.

And it’s not like he does have to let Brett in.

Emotionally, at least.

Stiles pushes his phone in the pocket of his jeans and folds his arms across his chest.

Brett blinks his eyes open, smirking. “And?”

“Stand on one leg,” Stiles orders, unable to break eye-contact – even as Brett follows the instruction without any hesitation.

He doesn’t even look annoyed about it. Instead, he keeps smiling as he perfectly balances on his left leg and continues to twirl his key around his index finger. “You’re really strict about this.”

“I spent a lot of time in hospitals and police departments.” It’s the truth, but Stiles wastes time to find a way out, or prepare himself for the inevitable. He’s not sure. If he let his body have its way, he’d jump Brett the moment they’d step into his car. But his mind is a jackass. Life without anxiety could be so fucking peaceful.

Brett nods slowly, and although his grin gives way to contemplation, he still doesn’t look inconvenienced by the request. “Some things stay with you,” he sounds like he knows exactly what Stiles is talking about. Perhaps he does. After all, Stiles isn’t the only one who went through something traumatic as a kid. “That why you’re afraid of emotional connections?” Raising his brows, Brett puts his foot down again and cocks his head.

“I don’t know,” Stiles replies, rolling his eyes. Of course, werewolves are too involved of other people’s business. At this point, he shouldn’t be surprised. “Is it why you refuse to date?” Two can play this game. Plus, Brett’s dating history – or the lack thereof – isn’t exactly a secret around town. As far as Stiles is aware, the guy has never slept with the same person twice. Another reason why Stiles should stay away from him. He’s not good with one-night stands. His heart gets attached too quickly.

“Touché.”

Stiles pushes his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “You always listen in to other people’s conversations?”

“Only the ones who’re playing hard to get.”

Stiles opens his mouth then snaps it shut again. Playing hard to get. He should feel offended by this. He really should. He’s not playing hard to get. He is hard to get. The two relationships he’s had in his life have taken forever until they started. “Walk. A straight. Line.”

Licking his lips, Brett raises both hands. “Okay, Special Agent.” He shuffles a few steps back until he’s halfway down the driveway. His tone is still soft, and he’s grinning again – as if this whole thing is nothing more than a joke to him. Perhaps it is. At this point, they both know he’s sober.

Stiles walks down the last few steps, brows raised expectantly. Brett’s going to ace this as well, there is no doubt about it, and if he does – then what? Stiles will have no more excuse. He’s going to walk with Brett to his car, get into the passenger’s seat, and let the night run its course. Then he can deal with the fallout while driving to the airport tomorrow. All is going to be great.

Rolling his shoulders, Brett starts walking towards him. One foot in front of each other. He isn’t even looking where he’s going. His gaze is fixed on Stiles, never breaking eye contact, not for a single fucking second. His smirk broadens.

The bass of the music drums to the rhythm of his heart. Time seems to bend and stretch around him as Brett makes his way towards him, blue eyes bright and beautiful. He captures his attention, stealing his breath away. Stiles swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. The air shifts as Brett keeps approaching him. His steps, first perfectly lined up, changed into something Stiles can only describe as predatory.

He hasn’t felt like prey in a while.

Stiles opens his mouth, and his breath catches in his throat.

Without warning, Brett wraps an arm around his waist and cups his cheek. He doesn’t allow him to speak or even think. Which is probably a good thing because Stiles would’ve managed to fuck that up royally. It’s his specialty, really.

His eyes flutter close before Brett’s lips even brush against his for the first time. But when they do- fuck. He’s gone. His lips are so soft. So unbelievably and undeniably soft that the gentle touch makes him gasp quietly. In an instant, Brett’s fingers curl into the back of his shirt even though he pulls away again. A second passes. Then another.

Stiles can hear him take a deep breath before he’s finally crashing their mouths together. The sensation makes his head spin. Every part of his body has ached for this. He grabs the back of Brett’s neck, pulling him closer as he parts his lips for a curious tongue. It tastes like coke. There’s not even a hint of any alcohol.

His stomach flutters again, and Stiles breaks the kiss unable to stop the chuckle from falling from his lips. “You planned all along, didn’t you?”

Brett responds by shoving him against the fenced front porch. A low growl fills the air between them, but a grin is tugging at the corners of his mouth. “For months,” he mutters, brushing their noses together in a surprisingly gentle display of affection. “Convincing Liam to invite me to his little birthday party was a hassle. But I played nice-” he pushes both hands almost shamelessly in the pockets of Stiles’ jeans and squeezes his ass “- and it was worth it.”

It was worth it.

Stiles’ breath catches in his throat and resists the urge to press a hand to his chest like a swooning Disney princess. He forces air into his lungs, eyes darting back and forth.

Chuckling, Brett leans closer again. “Cat got your tongue?” he whispers, capturing Stiles’ lips again. He pulls him so close nothing could fit between them.

Stiles curls one hand around Brett’s waist, and he tangles his fingers in the blonde strands, keeping him as close as physically possible without crawling into him. His whole body is burning. This isn’t enough. Not at all.

“Yo, Mason!”

Stiles jolts away from Brett, but the guy’s grip on him merely tightens with a huff. His eyes narrow slightly as Stiles cranes his neck. Heat creeps into his cheeks when he catches Liam’s eye.

Leaning against the door frame, the young werewolf stares back at him with a blank face and his arms crossed. “Tell Lydia, I want my hundred dollars by the end of next week.”

Stiles’ mouth drops open. What the hell?

Brett scoffs.

“Don’t think I did this for you, Talbot.” Liam pushes away from the door frame and shakes his head. “The engagement ring for Hayden is fucking expensive, man.” With a wave of his right hand, he turns away and slams the door shut behind him.

Not before Lydia’s what is audible despite the music, however.

Stiles whips around and pushes Brett off him. “Let’s go,” he urges, heart slamming in his chest as if he’s just finished running a marathon. “Let’s go. Let’s go.” There’s no way in hell he is going to face Lydia now, not when she’s lost a bet while still be able to rub his nose in the fact that she’s been right all along.

Brett barks out a laugh, but he relents and grabs Stiles’ hand as he steps away. “Your place or mine?” Smirking, he intertwines their fingers, nearly turning Stiles’ legs to jelly.

“My dad’s working the night,” Stiles whispers, and he struggles to breathe properly. This is happening. This is really happening. Because he’s not afraid of hooking up with people or letting someone in. Not at all. Lydia has been wrong about that.

Totally.

“I’ll have to pick up my grandparents from LAX tomorrow, though.” Stiles bites the inside of his cheek. Maybe this isn’t the best idea after all. “So, I don’t know. Maybe-“

“Road trip,” Brett grins down at him and pulls them flush together again. “Sounds fun.”

Stiles squints at him. “I’m picking up my grandparents.”

“I’m a family man.”

“Listen, I-“

“No,” Brett cuts him off, even having the audacity to cover his mouth with his hand. “You’re not doing this.” Doing what, exactly? His expression must’ve been pretty clear because Brett continues, sounding as if he’s resigned himself to a fate Stiles has no fucking clue about, “I didn’t spend a whole evening with Liam’s family and friends, so you can tug tail and run just because some idiot broke your heart, or you’re insecure and think you’re fucked up because of the shit that happened to you.”

Stiles opens his mouth, closes it and frowns before he pulls Brett’s hand away. “I don’t know if I should feel flattered or insulted.”

Red creeps into Brett’s cheeks, and Stiles nearly combusts with the need to kiss him again. “I’m… not well versed in the whole romantic confession thing.” Drawing his brows together, Brett rubs the back of his head.

“Really? Thanks for telling me, man,” Stiles drawls, pressing a hand to his chest in mock-surprise. “I never would have noticed.”

Brett grabs his chin and kisses him, “asshole,” he mutters against his mouth.

It really shouldn’t be one of the hottest things that’s ever happened to him – it shouldn’t even be in the top three – but his love life has been a disaster. Stiles would be lying if he said this didn’t make him want to drag Brett in the backseat of his car. He’s easy, sue him. But Liam might kill him, so he behaves. “Don’t let Babcia Agnes hear you call me an asshole. She will throw you out of a moving car, werewolf or not.”

“Noted.” Brett nods, scrunching his brows together adorably. “Babcia?”

“Oh, grandma.”

“Right.” Brett considers him for a moment then, “grandpa?”

Stiles smiles. “Dziadek.”

Another pause. A bit of helplessness creeps in. “Do they speak English?”

“They’re fluent, actually.” Stiles barks out a laugh when Brett lets out a sigh of relief. “I thought you’re a family man?”

Brett grimaces. “I lied.” He opens his mouth again, closes it and pulls his shoulders up.

Stiles doesn’t push it. Instead, he presses a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Dziadek Mieczysław loves everyone. Adress Babcia Agnieszka as Pani Gajos. She’ll instantly tell you to call her Agnes. Then eat a healthy portion. That’ll remind her that I need to eat more, and you’re off the hook.” Although Stiles can tell by the look of mild horror on Brett’s face that he is questioning his life choices, he hasn’t run away yet. “You don’t-“

“Don’t even try.” Brett wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him even closer – something Stiles didn’t know was even possible. “You’re leaving for Quantico in a week. We’ll have to speedrun if we’re compatible.”

“Compatible,” Stiles echoes and raises his brows. Call it a hunch, but something tells him Brett is very new to the dating scene. Smiling, he runs his fingers through the blonde strands. “How about we figure out how compatible we are at my place? And then we’ll go from there?”

Brett hums and tries, but fails, to hide the grin that’s already tugging on the corners of his mouth. Then he grabs Stiles around the waist and all but throws him over his shoulder. “Let’s do that.”

“I hate werewolves,” Stiles mumbles under his breath. “I hate werewolves.” And their constant displays of strength. The guy is lucky Stiles doesn’t mind a bit of manhandling.

Brett squeezes his ass in warning.

Stiles slaps his in return. For some reason, he has the feeling that they’re more than compatible.

[madeofstardust17]

Forget being a banshee Lydia Martin has the power of calling her boys' names and the supernatural bullshit just fucking leaves

2x12 || 5x20

[heliads]

What to Do

Theo Raeken doesn’t know what to think after Scott McCall’s pack stops him from achieving his goal of taking over the town. He certainly doesn’t expect that he’ll be sent to live with Y/N L/N.

masterlist

Theo Raeken leans back in his chair, surveying the crowded room before him. Every one of the teenage supernaturals who has ever once spoken to or been considered a friend of Scott McCall has been packed into the true alpha’s kitchen, much to the distress of one Melissa McCall. They’re all here for one crucial choice: deciding what they’re supposed to do with the guy who just tried to kill all of them and take control of the town. Namely, Theo himself.

They’re arguing fiercely at the moment. Do they lock him up with the Sheriff, do they force him to leave and never come back, or do they make him stay in Beacon Hills so Scott and the others can keep an eye on him and make sure Theo never tries to form another pack again? Theo’s fairly surprised that they haven’t tried to just flat out kill him so far, but to be fair, making True Alpha always-honorable Scott McCall agree to murder would be a little far. All the same, though, he’d be lying to say that he isn’t having at least a little fun watching it all go down.

Across the table, Stiles Stilinski has risen to his feet, finger pointed directly at Theo, eyes flashing even without the aid of a werewolf’s glowing gaze. Scott McCall, his best friend, sits next to him, one hand on Stiles’ arm in an attempt to get the boy to calm down. From what Theo can tell, it isn’t working. Lydia Martin is next, fingers steepled. Someone needs to tell her that the real world can’t be dissected like a math problem, but then again, she is a banshee who can tell the future. Maybe that’s how the universe looks to someone who can make prophecies about death: just an endless ring of word problems. Theo almost thinks he would rather be a human than have to deal with that.

Speaking of people who want him dead, Malia Hale (or is it Tate? Theo can never be sure) is giving him a death glare from where she perches against the row of kitchen cabinets, too highly wired to be able to sit down for a second. She’s been trying and failing to keep her claws inside her fingertips since the moment Theo walked through the front door. Liam Dunbar, too, is here, having a tense debate with Mason, Hayden, and Corey. To be honest, that group might be the most willing to let him live, which is surprising, because Theo thought he did a fairly good job of running his pack into the ground and trying to kill all of its members save himself.

Kira Yukimura watches from a distance, exchanging occasional words with Jordan Parrish. Theo isn’t entirely sure where they stand. Kira’s sword was used to drag him back from hell (awful experience, would not recommend), but Parrish’s almighty sense of justice could lead to Theo being interred once more. They appear to be in agreement, which means that Theo is back to square one in terms of figuring out how they feel about him.

Then there’s the final person here, the one person sitting alone. She’s roughly seated in the middle of the group, if a little to the outskirts, but she isn’t involved in talks with anyone else. Y/N L/N, in truth, fascinates Theo a little more than she should. She’s just a human, no skills or supernatural abilities there, yet she has still remained alive in spite of everything that’s come crashing down on Beacon Hills. Theo can’t help but wonder how she does it.

It could be her mind, could be her heart or conscience. She was the first person to believe Stiles when he said that Theo couldn’t be trusted, on board even before Scott McCall. Theo thinks that she might have even suspected him before Stiles started on his suspicion train, but he can’t tell for certain. There was this look in her eyes whenever Theo walked in front of her, like she could stare straight through his soul and see the lies before they even rose to his lips. Y/N may not have known that she distrusted Theo herself, but Theo could tell. He’s made a business out of knowing people. Like minds recognize each other.

At last, Scott stands up, finally managing to force a grumbling Stiles to take a seat and remain silent. “Alright, everybody, if we’re all in agreement-” 

Theo cuts him off. He can’t help himself- the resulting look of wrath in Stiles’ eyes is just too funny. 

“Have you made a decision? Are you killing me or not?” 

Scott shoots him a tired glance. “Tempting, Theo, but not today. You’ll be staying in Beacon Hills under our supervision until we decide that you can be trusted. You may have helped us in the past, but you also betrayed us many, many times.”

Theo nods. This is the option that made the most sense- Scott and the others would never let him out of their sight, not when they thought he might go rogue and start up another pack. The only question now is how he’ll be watched, and when they’ll decide he’s good enough to cut loose. 

Scott glances around his friends one last time, then clears his throat. “You’ll need a new place to stay, so you’ll be living with one of us. Try not to kill them, would you? This was a frustrating discussion as it was, and we don’t want to have it again.”

Theo raises his hands in innocence. “Of course not. Murder is illegal, you know.” 

Theo can practically smell Scott’s irritation coming off of him in waves. Hey- if he’s been forced to be here for the last hour and listen to them talk, he can at least have his fun. 

Scott gives him one last eye roll, then continues on. “We need a place where you can fly under the radar, both from hunters and from everyone else. That’s why you’ll be staying with Y/N.”

Theo can’t help it- he sits up slightly in his chair. He’d thought about every possible option, but he didn’t think that the pack would take this one. Let him live with Y/N? She’s a human, and couldn’t even heal. What if he tried to kill her? She’d be dead, with no way to fight back. It would be easy for him to slash her throat and then run. He’d be out of the town and free before anyone even noticed she was gone.

Then again, when Theo glances at Y/N, the thoughts of midnight murders start to leave his head. She looks just as shocked as he does, and Theo is slightly distracted by the cute look of surprise on her face as she realizes what Scott has just said. 

“What do you mean? My house was never on the table for this.” 

Stiles, still smarting over Theo’s various smartass comments, speaks with a voice ripe in impatience. “Hunters don’t suspect you because you’re human, and I doubt your parents would notice if anything happened.”

Y/N flinches slightly at that, and Theo can’t blame her. He’s almost ready to yell at Stiles himself. There was no reason to come out like that, insulting her. No wonder Y/N’s been silent all this time- if that’s how Stiles talks to her on the regular, Theo wouldn’t want to be chummy with him either. 

Stiles must sense that all hackles in the room have been raised, because he backs off a little. “Sorry, didn’t mean it like that. What I meant was that the rest of our parents either know about the supernaturals and would therefore not let Theo into their houses, or they’d figure it out soon enough.”

Theo can see the glint of anger still flashing in Y/N’s eyes, but she holds her tongue. She judges Stiles silently for a few last seconds, then stands up abruptly. 

“Of course, Stiles. I agree with the decision. Come on, Theo, let’s go.” 

Scott blinks at her. “Just like that? You’re fine with it?” 

She raises an eyebrow as she leaves the room. “Was there ever any option where I said no?”

Theo looks around the faces of the pack, then follows Y/N out. He can sense her heartbeat rising and falling as she tries to slow her irritation, but it’s understandably hard to control. 

Y/N jerks her head towards her car. “Let’s go, new roommate. Hope you don’t mind that you won’t have a chance to gun for Stiles before you leave town.” 

Theo, grinning, slides into the passenger seat. “I’m more worried about you gunning for me. You look ready to throttle someone. Sure you don’t want to join my Stiles killing spree as I run?”

Y/N almost laughs, but she manages to hide it just in time. “I would never joke about killing my friends, that would be awful. I would just do it in my head.” 

Theo bites back a smirk as the car’s ignition roars to life. “I think this is already a great start. We’re going to be fantastic roommates.” 

Y/N snorts, although her smile slides away from her face as she considers his words. For some reason, Theo finds himself wanting to make another joke so he can see it again.

“Do you mind me staying? I thought you would have agreed with the decision.” 

Y/N sighs. “Of course I agree with the decision. It’s the right thing to do, to keep all of us safe. Scott doesn’t make choices like this on a whim. All the same, you know as well as I do why Scott had you live with me and not anyone else.” 

Theo thinks he can guess what she means, but he asks all the same. “What does that mean?”

Y/N’s gaze is riveted on the road in front of her. “Let’s say you get bored of Beacon Hills and you want to leave. You’d do it during the night, when Scott can’t figure you out and stop you. If any one of us saw you trying to leave, we’d stop you, right? You’ve already shown that you’re fine with killing anyone that gets in your way, so you’d slash that person’s throat and be gone. Scott’s just cutting his losses.” 

Theo sits in stunned silence for a second. “You think Scott had me live with you because you’re what, expendable?”

Y/N’s smirk is grim and cold as the night around them. “Why else would you be here? If he was truly concerned about making sure you were on the right track, you’d be with him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had a werewolf live with him, or even one that’s been an enemy to him before. It’s the only thing that makes sense.” 

Theo glances over at her. “I’m not going to kill you, you know. I’m not going to hurt you or your friends.” 

Y/N returns his gaze briefly before her eyes settle on the road. “You really believe that?” 

After a moment, Theo nods. “Yeah.” It might be the first time that he actually means it.

Theo’s been living with Y/N for a few weeks now. It’s surprisingly good. They’ve settled into an unspoken rhythm of driving to and from school, making breakfast, avoiding Y/N’s parents so they don’t have to answer awkward questions like “why is there a boy crawling out of your window the second we arrive” and “isn’t that Theo Raeken, the boy the Sheriff was trying to track down for criminal activity” whenever they meet face to face.

One day, Theo has to stay late after class, talking to one of his teachers to explain away the fact that he missed a couple months of school while he was in Hell. By the time he gets back to the school parking lot, Y/N is waiting for him by the car. She’s not alone, though- she’s talking to a boy. Theo recognizes him as Gabe, one of the hunter wannabes who haunt the halls of Beacon Hills. 

The closer he approaches, the more he realizes that Y/N looks very, very uncomfortable. Gabe is leaning forward into her space, and every one of his words seems threatening. Thanks to his werewolf senses, Theo can hear what he’s saying, and it doesn’t sound good. Gabe is trying to convince Y/N to come over to his house and ‘work on homework’. On the way there, he says, they can talk about a date, or maybe something about Liam Dunbar and Scott McCall. They seem suspicious, don’t they?

Then Gabe puts his hand on Y/N’s arm, and Theo has to bite back a snarl. He doesn’t realize he’s across the parking lot until he’s shoving Gabe to the ground, drawing back his arm to strike the boy across the head. A burst of scarlet bubbles up in his nose, and Theo feels a savage note of pleasure. He moves to hit him again, but Y/N’s in front of him, dragging him away and back to the car. By the time Theo looks back, Gabe has scrambled away, likely to tell all of his junior hunter friends about what a monster he is. Theo can’t find the will to care.

Theo is dragged back to reality when he realizes that Y/N is talking to him. “What was that about? You could have exposed yourself! He’s a hunter, Theo, and he can’t know that you’re anything but human.” 

The risk hadn’t occurred to him. It still hasn’t set in, actually. “He touched you. He put his hand on your arm.” 

Y/N shakes her head, uncomprehending. “I think you broke his nose.” 

Theo grins. “Good. He deserved it. He can’t touch you like that.”

Y/N stares at him for a second, and then something almost like humor touches her eyes. “My God, Theo, are you jealous? Overprotective, maybe?” 

Theo tries to scoff, but it sounds fake even to his ears. “What? No. I’m just trying to make the hunters back off. They’re bad news.” 

Y/N looks at him for a moment longer, then breaks out into quiet laughter. Theo wants to stop the world for a minute just to listen to it. 

“You’re actually jealous. That’s impossible. I didn’t think you did that sort of thing.”

Theo frowns. “Why not?” 

Y/N spreads her hands. “You tried to kill me and my friends a few months ago.” 

Theo winces at the memory. “Yeah, but I didn’t know you then.”

Y/N’s eyes glint. “Are you saying that you’ve changed?” 

Theo does his best to shrug nonchalantly. “Maybe. Would it matter to you?” 

Y/N smiles at him. “Yes, I think it would.” 

Then her gaze drops to his hands, and she grimaces. “You’re covered in blood, you know that?”

Theo’s eyes follow hers down to his knuckles, which he belatedly realize have been sprayed with scarlet. “At least I know I hit him.” 

Y/N grins. “Are you so invested in protecting my honor that you’d break Gabe’s nose?” 

Theo nods solidly. “Yeah. I think so.” 

Her eyes sparkle when she laughs. How had he never noticed that before? 

“Then I suppose it’s best I thank you.” 

Before Theo knows what’s happening, Y/N has pressed a light kiss to his cheek. When she leans away again, she looks almost insecure, as if unsure how he’ll react.

However, she doesn’t have to worry about that, because Theo’s moving forward to kiss her again, this time for real. He can feel her smile against his lips. Suddenly, Theo thinks that coming to Beacon Hills might have been the best decision he ever made.

teen wolf tag list: i would also punch somebody to protect your honor @underc0vercryptid​

[bellakitse]

I've got the remedy

“Stiles, go upstairs and take care of your guy,” she tells him as she turns to face him once more, sighing loudly when he starts to stammer.

“My guy?” Stiles squeaks, and he hopes Derek is too loopy to hear this conversation or the way his heart is racing. “I don’t –“

+

Derek gets sick with werewolf flu, and Stiles is left to watch over him. Their mutual crushes come to a head.

“Werewolf flu?”

Stiles Stilinski looks at his friend Lydia Martin dubiously as she stands in front of the stove, heating up soup. She’d called as he barely crossed back into the town lines – home on break from school, with an SOS text telling him to get his ass out to the Hale house. That wasn’t the surprising part, even being away at Berkeley didn’t stop the wolfy emergency-related texts. However, he could admit that their dear Alpha had a better handle on things these days, and he didn’t get too many ‘the world is coming to an end; we need your google-fu, Stiles’ call these days.

Not that Derek was willing to call his impressive skills ‘google-fu’ in the first place, no matter how much Stiles insists. Just because the big guy had mellowed out over the years doesn’t change the fact that he’s still a sourwolf.

Lydia rolls her eyes at him, probably because she has explained twice, and he’s still not getting it. “Peter didn’t precisely tell us – “

“What?” he drags out sarcastically. “You mean Peter Hale was vague about something?”

Lydia shoots him another look, more annoyed than the last, and Stiles smiles delighted, riling her up is one of his favorite pastimes. “Yes, shocker,” she says, returning his tone. “And he didn’t call it werewolf flu, but that’s essentially what it is, and Derek has it.”

Stiles frowns, looking up at the kitchen ceiling like it’s going to open up and show him their Alpha. “Is he okay?”

Lydia rolls her eyes yet again, and Stiles is starting to worry for her eyesight if she continues this way. “Yes. He’s just more irritating, if that’s even possible. Werewolves barely ever get sick, so he’s handling it oh so gracefully,” she tells him. The aggravation in her voice makes him wince.

“Where is everyone?” he questions. He knows the pack arrived days ago, him being the last one to come back to town due to a late paper he had to hand in.

“Far away,” Lydia answers as she turns off the stove. “I called Deaton. He said that while rare, the werewolf flu is contagious to other werewolves, so I sent them away because I couldn’t bear the thought of dealing with more supernatural whiny babies.”

Stiles snorts loudly at that. “Can’t Derek hear you right now?”

Lydia raises an eyebrow at him. “Like I care about the big bad wolf?” she asks, her mouth quirking upward when a growl vibrates through the house. Stiles shakes his head, amused. It’s times like this when he remembers why he was in love with her for so long.

“Okay, so why did you call me?” he asks, instantly regretting it when she gives him a bright smile. “No.”

“Stiles – “

He shakes his head quickly. “No, you just said he’s moodier than ever – “

“He needs someone to make sure he doesn’t drown in his own snot,” she says patiently, and the house shakes again with another growl.

“His betas – “ he tries over the huff Lydia lets out.

“Will get sick if they come near him,” she reminds him. “You really want to deal with a sick pack?”

Stiles lets out a sigh of his own as he reluctantly shakes his head. Scott alone used to be such a nightmare when he got sick before his wolfy transformation. “What about Allison?” he questions desperately.

Lydia looks at him like he’s stupid, and he knows why. Even years later, Allison and Derek aren’t particularly close. She’s pack because she’s Scott’s mate, but she’d probably just end up putting Derek out of his misery before bringing him tea with honey.

“You?” he questions in a last-ditch effort, knowing it useless by the way she looks at him.

“What exactly do you think I have been doing the last three days when I should have been studying, Stiles?”

“We’re on break,” he argues.

“You don’t win a Fields Medal by slacking off,” she shoots back with a flip of her hair. “Besides, I’m not Florence Nightingale.”

“And I am?” he asks. “What makes you think that leaving me with a sick and, per your words, grumpier Derek Hale is a good idea? I’m just going to annoy him more than usual, which I’m sure is not going to make him feel better faster.”

Lydia gives him a look that Stiles has come to know as her ‘Stiles, you’re such an idiot’ face. He’s used to it, but he’s not sure what he’s said right now to warrant it.

“What?” he questions when she continues to look at him like that.

Lydia rolls her eyes because it seems irritation is her default setting for the day and starts to make her way out of the kitchen into the living room to gather her jacket and purse. “The soup is ready. Make him drink plenty of water, and there are these herbs Deaton gave us. It’s already brewed. He has to drink that too. Word of warning, he says it tastes like death, so he’s going to pout about it. Make sure he drinks it in front of you. The first day the big baby poured it down the toilet.”

“Lydia, please,” he tries again as she puts her jacket on and heads for the door.

“Stiles, go upstairs and take care of your guy,” she tells him as she turns to face him once more, sighing loudly when he starts to stammer.

“My guy?” Stiles squeaks, and he hopes Derek is too loopy to hear this conversation or the way his heart is racing. “I don’t –“

Proving that she can be even more unimpressed with him still, Lydia rolls her eyes in a way that makes it seem it’s with her whole body.

“I don’t have time for your panic, so let me lay it out for you,” she says, not waiting for him to speak. “You two talk over the phone all the time. When you and I talk, you end up talking about him, and you get stupidly excited about making him laugh. He softens around you like no one else. You like each other, Stiles, and while it’s amusing for the rest of us to watch this little mating dance of yours, it’s also tedious as hell. Now, Derek has been a pain in the ass the last few days, and I guarantee you that you being here will put him in a better mood. So, I repeat, go upstairs and take care of your man.”

Stiles opens his mouth, but nothing comes out as he tries to process the truth bomb Lydia just dropped on his head. Seemingly taking his silence as an answer, she smiles, pleased with the havoc she has just wreaked, and walks out of the house, leaving him alone with a sick werewolf.

“Right,” he says to himself after a moment, closing his mouth and the door. He heads back to the kitchen, working on autopilot as he serves the soup Lydia heated up, pouring some of the herb-tea Lydia mentioned that does indeed smell like death and some water, placing it all on a carrying tray. All the while, he thinks about Lydia’s comments and the truth behind them.

He and Derek do talk all the time, sometimes for hours, about nothing and everything. He does get a ridiculous amount of joy when he can make the man laugh, and he’d been looking forward to coming home and seeing him, hoping to see and hear that laugh in person. There’s also the undeniable fact that he’s had a crush on Derek since high school, something he thought he’d manage to hide pretty well, but if Lydia’s words were true, then maybe not so much.

He feels his face go hot at the idea that the pack might be aware of his feelings, or worse, Derek. Because even if by some chance he wasn’t aware of them before, there’s no way he’s lucky enough for Derek not to have heard Lydia now.

Every part of him is screaming at him to get back in his jeep and drive home where he could hide under his bed until it’s time to go back to school. Instead, he grabs the tray and starts to make his way up the renovated Hale house. He’s faced scarier things than his feelings since learning about the supernatural, and it’s not the first time he’s been interested in someone wildly out of his league.

It’s his M.O.

Besides, there’s no way he could actually leave a sick Derek alone to be miserable if he can make him feel better. Lord knows the guy has had enough misery in his life. With that in mind, he pushes the door to Derek’s room with his hip, ready to deal with whatever is inside.

What he isn’t ready for is how good Derek looks. Stiles hasn’t seen him in person in months since his last break, and he looks amazing. Leave it to Derek Hale to get some strange supernatural cold and still look like a GQ model.

Derek is sitting up on the bed, and except for an impressive bedhead and unusually flushed cheeks under his scruff, he looks as gorgeous as ever.

“Life is truly unfair,” he whispers to himself, getting a raised eyebrow in return.  “What? Of course you would look this good while sick,” he says with narrowed eyes. Frankly, he’s annoyed by just how beautiful Derek is sometimes. “Can’t be like us lesser mortals who look like death when we have the flu? Do you just have to show us up?”

Derek stares at him for another moment before giving him an impressive eye-roll of his hazel-green eyes. “Why are you the most ridiculous person I know?”

Stiles snorts. “That’s simply not true. You also know Scott,” he answers as he makes his way towards the bed, tray in hand, silently apologizing to his friend for the dig.

Derek’s lips twitch for a second before he schools his features, but Stiles still catches it and celebrates the win with an amused grin of his own. It softens a bit as he sits down on the side of the bed, placing the tray on the bedside table to get a better look at Derek.

He stands by his original opinion that Derek Hale is just way too gorgeous in general, much more for someone sick with a magical flu, but this close, he can see the bit of bruising around his eyes from the lack of sleep. His cheeks are rosy-pink from sickness, and before he can stop himself, he reaches out to press his hand against one.

Derek lets out a surprised sound at his touch that startles Stiles into realizing what he’s done. He goes to take his hand off the werewolf, ready to apologize for overstepping when Derek gives him a surprise of his own by leaning into his touch, his pretty eyes fluttering shut, a peaceful look coming over his face.

Stiles holds his breath as Derek lets out another lovely rumbling sound from deep in his throat.

“Your hand is cool,” Derek murmurs softly, his eyes slowly opening to look at him. “It feels nice.”

Stiles bites down on his lip, feeling his stomach clench when Derek’s eyes drift to them, and he licks his own.

Holy shit, Lydia was right. This whole time he had figured that this was just one-sided. That it was him once again developing feelings for someone who would never return his affections. But looking at Derek now, he sees the same want and longing he sees in the mirror every day.

“Oh, screw you,” he breathes out, tightening his hold on Derek when he tries to pull away. “Nope, you don’t get to retreat now, sourwolf,” he warns him with narrowed eyes, proving his suspicions real by the way he listens to him. “You heard Lydia earlier,” he challenges with a raised eyebrow.

“I have good ears,” Derek grumbles back.

“So you heard her when she said we have feelings for each other,” he says, his heart beating faster than usual with anxiety, and he knows Derek can hear that too. Derek’s almost timid, hopeful expression when he gives him a single nod helps ease that worry as he starts to feel hopeful too. “Only all this time, I thought I was the only one with feelings here.”

“I thought you were the smart one,” Derek murmurs, a small grin playing on his lips when he sputters indignantly.

Stiles huffs loudly, even as he’s unable to stop the silly grin that takes over his face.

“Your heartbeat sounds happy,” Derek tells him softly as he looks down to his chest.

“You like me back,” he answers, letting out an incredulous laugh when Derek smiles at him, not denying it. Instead, he looks at him fondly, causing Stiles’ heart to skip a beat at being the recipient of such a rare and special look. “I’m more than happy right now, Derek,” he shakes his head. Happy doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Derek smiles again, pushing off the mountain of pillows behind him, reaching out for him. Stiles does the same, placing his hands on Derek’s bare shoulders, playing with the edge of his white tank top. His face gets inches away from Stiles’ when he stops.

“Wait – “ he starts as Stiles already shakes his head.

“No, no waiting,” he whines, wrapping his fingers around the material of his shirt, leaning forward. He rubs the tip of his nose against Derek’s even as he tries to close the last inch of distance between their lips. “I have had a crush on you since like junior year, Derek. No waiting, no wasting any more time, kissing now.”

Derek chuckles slightly. This close up he can see Derek’s eyes shining with joy, and Stiles wants to be responsible for that from now on.

“I’m sick, remember?”

“Affects werewolves, not humans,” he mutters as he brushes his lips against Derek’s, sighing at the feel of their softness. His sigh turns into a low moan as Derek gives in, hauling him onto his lap, proving that werewolf flu or not, his strength is still superior.

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck as he cradles him between his legs. He kisses him slow and deeply, thoroughly, it being such a long time coming. He sinks his fingers into Derek’s hair gripping it harder than he intended, pulling on it on reflex when Derek gives his bottom lip a bite. The pleased growl Derek lets out against his mouth vibrates down his whole body, making his spine tingle. He breaks the kiss to take a breath, only for it to turn into a gasp when Derek ducks to kiss his way down his neck.

“Totally worth the risk,” he gets out, moaning as Derek traces his moles with his tongue.

Derek laughs against his throat. He pulls back to look at him, smiling widely. “You say that now, but don’t complain later if you do get sick.”

Stiles shrugs his shoulders, not really worried or caring right now when he’s in Derek’s arms. “If it happens, we’ll stay in bed together until we’re both better,” he answers, his eyes lighting up as he speaks. “Actually, that’s a great idea. Let’s stay in bed.”

He waggles his eyebrows, grinning when Derek huffs, rolling his eyes at him.

“The most ridiculous person I know,” he mutters right as he rolls them over, ignoring the yelp Stiles lets out at the sudden movement.

Stiles blinks up at the ceiling while Derek throws an arm and a leg over him, settling around Stiles like he’s his own personal body pillow.

“What about the soup?” he questions even as he starts combing his fingers through Derek’s silky hair, scratching at his scalp with blunt nails.

“Mhmm,” Derek hums out, his face tucked into Stiles’ neck, already sounding half-asleep. “It will keep.”

Stiles laughs softly, but still, he wraps his arms more securely around the sleeping wolf, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead because he can now, closing his eyes too.

The soup can wait.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

any fics where the pack doesn’t know Stiles has a twin??

I couldn’t find this but here’s a list of twin!Stiles fics instead. - Anastasia

and i thought it only a dream by bleep0bleep

(1/1 I 1,501 I General I Sterek)

Derek only started getting the dreams a few years ago, and he knows what it means, his soulmate is younger than him. Laura teases him incessantly about it, but Derek doesn’t pay her any mind. The dreams are fuzzy at best, he only has a fleeting glimpse of plaid shirts and laughter and a pink mouth.

As Laura and he start on their roadtrip back to California from New York, the dreams start to get clearer. Every state they cross, Derek can see the outline of his soulmate get more defined, knows that he has brown eyes, a gorgeous smile and fluffy hair that looks soft to touch.

The Shadow Effect by Mysenia 

(1/1 I 5,262 I General I Steter)

What was the fun in being a twin if you couldn’t trick a person or two?

Catch Me If You Can by MadnessofVoid

(1/1 I 5,923 I Teen I Sterek)

Beacon Hills was the first city in California, in the world, that turned the whole soulmate thing into a celebration. There were banners, posters, bumper stickers – the works – every single year. There were even t-shirts being sold that said I Ran insert year And All I Got Was This Stupid Shirt for those that had been in The Run and failed to find their soulmate.

Derek was hoping that this year he wouldn’t get a fifth one.

or

Every year there is a run for humans and supernaturals alike to find their soulmate. Derek’s just never lucky in finding his.

Cobwebs and Flies Come Out by AlmostSilent

(2/2 I 7,979 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles has had his whole life to get used to the fact that Mikołaj, his non-identical twin brother, is just better than him. He’s also kind of a dick and loves rubbing Stiles’ face in how much better he is at everything.

Or, the one where Stiles has a twin, and a massive crush on Derek, these two things conspire to ruin his life, but maybe everything will work out for the best. Still, he has high school drama and a winter formal to get through.

Season of the Witch by StupidGenius

(1/1 I 9,052 I Teen I Sterek)

“Derek!” Laura calls, right when he bumps into something.

Or someone.

Someone wearing a comically large black sun hat.

“I’m so sorry -” he starts. A hand lands on his shoulder, the person steadying themselves, and then it’s like a jolt of electricity goes through him.

“Oh, it’s okay. I should watch where I’m going, next time.” Stiles laughs, cheeks pink.

—

Witches and magic shouldn’t be real, and yet, Derek gets the feeling something Not Normal™ is happening in this town.

Thing One and Thing Two by words_reign_here

(18/18 I 37,184 I Teen I Sterek)

After the sudden, violent death of Claudia Argent, Chris Argent takes his twins, Stiles and Allison from their hometown and to a place that seems to have a history with the Argent family.The Stilinski boys seem to have a huge role to play in both the Argent family history and in the town.Stiles and Allison are about to find out how big.

Against All Odds by silveritas

(16/16 I 37,236 I Teen I Sterek)

It is a universally acknowledged truth that a single alpha in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a mate.

Ain’t nobody fresher than this motherfucking clique by graveltotempo

(1/1 I 38,999 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Derek had somewhat entertained the idea that the school council was some kind of high rank which made the five of them inaccessible to anyone else. Instead of a supreme table with golden cutlery and high chairs, they were just sitting on table similar to the one he was sitting on himself.

Allison Argent, with her cute dimples and flawless aim.

Lydia Martin, with her incredible genius and terrifying presence.

Scott McCall, with his big puppy eyes and his natural leadership.

Jackson Whittemore, with his annoying attitude and fierce protectiveness.

And Stiles Stilinski with his joy of life and guarded eyes.

One thing Derek was certain of? Heather was messing with the wrong group of people.

Two of a Kind by Halevetica

(28/28 I 35,823 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles and his brother, Spencer, were similar in a lot of ways, for starters they were identical twins. They were both stubborn and sarcastic, they liked the same music, had a lot of the same friends growing up, and now they liked the same guy.

Derek Hale didn’t expect to get twins for roomates and he definitely didn’t expect to find them so attractive. He tries his best to keep the brothers at arms length as he’s been hurt too many times before. However he finds himself falling for one of them, only he’s not sure which one. He’s not close enough to them to remember who is who and they often trade places for the sake of their grades.

Stiles and Spencer struggle to keep from letting a guy come between them while Derek struggles to figure out exactly which twin he’s falling for.

The Three Little Hunters by damnfancyscotch

(30/35 I 58,490 I Teen I Sterek)

Allison is being groomed to take over the Argent Hunters.

Stiles, her twin brother, is all set to be her Right Hand.

Liam, the youngest, is going to be her Enforcer and training expert.

The three of them are going to be the most dangerous and efficient group of Hunters in the history of their family.

There’s just one little problem…

—–

“Is anyone in this house not dating a werewolf?!”

Stiles raises his hand. “Technically, none of us are dating them, per se. We just sort of end up in the same places sometimes and then don’t leave.“ He pauses, then adds, "There may also be kissing but I’m not willing to give any concrete evidence of that.”

Madness and Magnetism by theinspiredginger

(13/? I 77,373 I Teen I Sterek)

"No, this can’t be happening. I refuse for us to be Romeo and Juliet. No. It’s not happening. No. So just stop. If you don’t wipe that smirk off your face, I’ll kill you. I mean it!” Stiles stared down at Derek, who just rolled his eyes. “Yeah because that worked out so well last time.”

A hunter!AU were Stiles is part of the Argent clan, and does not live up to the hunting prowess of his older twin, Allison. In an attempt to prove himself to his family, Stiles sets out to take down the most vicious alpha of the area, Derek Hale. Through Stiles’ bumbling attempts to kill Derek, and Derek’s mocking banter, the hunt turns to a game and enemies turn to something more.

I Hunt For You With Bloody Feet by CharWright5

(26/26 I 200,462 I Explicit I Sterek)

“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.

[princess-cordelias-writingblog]

YOUR DARK SIDE. (Void!Stiles x Reader)

A/N: THIS IS SICK (that gif makes me sweat jfc) Also, I changed a lot but I don’t think I need to tell you that bc is not really important lmao. I split this into several parts, 1 bc I haven’t had time to write more and I don’t actually know how to get to the end of this and 2 it is very long compared to my other writings, @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @sarcxstic-stilinski thought you guys might wanna read this <3

This is for  @roseringleader13 hope you like this part. <3

Words: 2,196

Warning: NOT A HAPPY STORYLINE. This whole plot is kinda about an abusive relationship?? between Void and reader? beware, the reader might have a suicidal wish and low self-esteem. Pretty much obsessed with the boy lmao.

Listen to me.

Part I / Pt. II / Pt.III / Pt.IV

How much pain are you willing to stand for someone? 

I’m a good person, I have good grades and always listen to what my mom says, I help my friends when they’re in trouble and I’ve never talked shit about a person in my life. Until now.

My friends and I fight against supernatural things all the time, everything that was always there to cause us pain and terror was defeated at some point, we stuck together through thick and thin, and that was all that matters.

You may have noticed how I keep saying “we”. I’m not exactly talking about my friends, I’m really only talking about him. This guy has been my friend since the very beginning; we are as close as my awkwardness allows, but the problem is that I’m in love with Stiles and I have no interest in being just a friend.

I can’t recall when I started to have these feelings for him, I know that at some point I saw him in the hall and the “Holy shit, He’s beautiful” hit me with no prior notice, but to say that I can remember exactly how I fell in love?, I can’t.

However, the sudden realization of my true feelings for the boy didn’t scare me away, in fact, they were keeping me close, holding me tight beside him and never breaking the contact, hoping that we would be together at the end.

“Hi there, y/n/n,” Stiles sat at the girl’s side, nudging her teasingly 

“How’s life?”

“Good, what about you?” The girl slid closer to him, very aware of how her cheeks flushed. 

“I- uh, I haven’t slept well recently,” He sighed “I’m tired, and having trouble concentrating at school and stuff.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” Y/N frowned.

“I’m aware of that” Stiles replied drily “Look, I’ll be fine I just need a few good hours of sleep and then I’ll be as good as always.”

“Why don’t you go see a doctor?” 

“There’s no need, I promise I’m fine”

“Stiles, you can’t know that. What’s wrong with looking for a professional opinion anyway?” Her hand automatically reached for his, which he accepted, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb.

“Y/N...” He mumbled tiredly.

“She’s right though,” Lydia said, glancing up from her phone “You have no way to know that whatever is happening to you is just from lack of sleep, it could be something more.” 

Stiles shifted awkwardly in his chair, biting his lip, Y/N wished they were the only ones on that table so no one could interrupt them.

“If you really think I should... I guess it’ll be okay”

And there it was, the real problem. Stiles’ undying love for Lydia Martin. At this point, I should’ve moved on and found a cute guy with good intentions and a huge heart, unfortunately, that was all he was. The sweet boy Stilinski, always there for everyone, the hero of every story. The feeling of having him so close yet so far was unbearable, I had a plan too just like he had one for Lydia. A three-year-long plan in which Stiles was going to notice me and figured on his own how significant I was in his life, by the time we were going to be on Senior year he’d be utterly in love.

I admit I started to grow bitter, the grudge I held against both of them wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t fair for either of them. I was being childish and stupid, they were my friends!; I found myself holding back from rolling my eyes everytime Stiles stared at the girl when he was talking with me, and clenching my fists whenever she said something remotely nice to him. There was this dark, heavy thing growing bigger and bigger with each passing day, consuming my heart, my rage was starting to be completely out of control. 

Lydia was everything I couldn’t. Brave, smart, beautiful... I couldn’t compete with her. I didn’t want to.

We soon figured what was wrong with Stiles.

“An evil fox?” Y/N said, not able to believe it “Are you telling me that Stiles is being possessed by the evil spirit of a fox?”

“This is not funny Y/N, Stiles could die” Lydia scolded “don’t you care about what could happen to him?”

“I care more than you know” She growled, the smile disappearing completely of her face “You know I’d do anything to keep him safe.”

“And yet you’re not doing anything to find him.” Isaac mumbled.

Before they got the chance to get into an argument, Scott stopped them.

“The plan is to bring him back before it’s too late, Stiles has been holding on for too long, at this point is very likely that the Nogitsune has more power over him.”

“Yeah but if I find him, How am I supposed to stop him? I, a seventeen-year-old girl, whose only supernatural power is the will to stand all this bullshit” Y/N’s comment was not well received by her friends, that groaned in exasperation.

“Just be sure to have a way to contact us in case you find something helpful,” Scott grabbed his own phone and walked out of the room, Lydia following behind, giving her an apologetic smile.

“Ugh, fuck off,” Y/N thought, not in the mood to accept Lydia’s kindness.

What did Lydia have that she didn’t? What made her worthy of his heart, or what made me her unattractive to him, Y/N was so tired of being ignored, she was exhausted to see all her or so call “friends”, treating her like she was an inconvenience. The little human who was not even good at research like Stiles was, Y/N held her breath and count to ten, her blood boiling with impotence.

It was getting darker and still no sign of Stiles. I entered every abandoned building I could find, I looked around the forest and in my last attempt, I even checked his house in case he had a glint of sanity and decided to go back, but there was nothing.

I went home feeling defeated, just thinking about what could possibly be happening to Stiles in that very same moment gave me goosebumps, I was hoping that Scott could find him fast when I found him in my living room. 

“Stiles! Where the fuck have you been?” Y/N dropped her bag and stood there in shock, “I’ve been worried sick, you disappeared and we thought you died!”

“Well, I can assure you I’m not dead” He looked like shit, dark circles under his eyes and dry lips, Y/N was surprised he could stay conscious “I need your help, Y/N/N”

The light in the room flickered when Stiles walked slowly to where the girl was, he looked at her up and down and licked his lips, the broken expression soon turning into a small, dark smile.

Suddenly realizing what was happening, she let him walk until they were face to face, knowing it wasn’t good but so terrified she couldn’t move a muscle to save her life.

“You’re not Stiles” she whispered in anger “You’re the other thing... Void.”

“Hi there,” He replied in a calm voice, looking at her hungrily “I’ve been waiting to officially meet you for too long”

“You’re despicable” Y/N had the urge to run to the opposite side, but she was so angry with this thing possessing the boy she loved that her emotions took control on her actions. “Why are you here?”

“Because of you.” He said, voice clear and intimidating.

“Y-you what?” 

Time seemed to stop when he took a final step, his face so close now she could see the darkness in his eyes. “I’ve been feeding of this boy for so long, and I’ve been able to see his life, all the people around him, so many accidents and death surrounding this kid that it was impossible for me not to want him, but you, you’re something else.”

“I know your heart,” He whispered seductively “I can see you love this boy and want desperately to have him just for you,” He tilted his head and pulled her closer, his face buried in her neck. Being able to perceive the dark feelings coming out of the girl, he moaned “I’m starving Y/N, and your anger is overwhelming... I’m sure we could get to an agreement”

Y/N wanted to scream, she wanted to kick and punch and bite as much as she could until Scott finally appeared kicking down the door or something heroic as hell like he used to, her heart was pounding against her chest and Stiles had such a tight hold on her neck she was sure it could break it in a second.

“Let me go!” She grabbed his wrist and tried to get him off herself, but it was useless.”Stiles!”

“I’m not Stiles!” He snarled, grip becoming tighter “You think you have any chance to fight against me? you’ll die as soon as you try to escape and you know it.”

“You won’t kill me, I-I’m his friend” Y/N choked out “He would never hurt me”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” He said, grabbing her waist with his free hand and smiling wickedly “he doesn’t care.”

“You’re lying” The girl tried to push him in a desperate attempt to make him trip, but Void was faster, he slammed her against the wall, the pain stunned her enough for him to take her to her room with no objections.

“Why would I?” He replied, “I’m in control now, but he can hear and see everything as well, he knows your feelings and is disgusted by them.”

Her heart shattered at his words, of course she had always known that Stiles didn’t like her back, but being actually disgusted? that was enough to make her want to erase herself from existence.

“You’re free to think he’s fighting against this, but he’s not” He closed the door and pushed her against it, rubbing her cheek “it’s such a shame that you’re wasted like this, living in the shadows of a boy who is not interested in having you.”

“Please” Y/N begged, she didn’t want to hear anything else, it was too cruel.

“I’m giving you an option, dove” He licked his lips anxiously “you’ll never have what you want, he’s too out of your reach. I however am willing to let you have him if you give me what I want.”

“I-I don’t understand...”

“Let me take all that darkness in you, and you'll have Stiles for you and only for you, of course, you will not be able to talk to him or feel his presence since I’m the one in charge now, but- look at me, Y/N” He grabbed her face aggressively, forcing her to see the face of the boy she loved, now completely different from what she remembered “this is all you got.”

“He’s right,” Y/N thought.

Stiles didn’t love her, didn’t want her around, even after all those times when she tried to convince him that she was the right choice, even after she was the one he called when things got complicated, Stiles simply couldn’t see it, he didn’t want to see.

And Y/N loved him so much, so desperately, that she found herself sinking in despair, knowing that her only wish in life was never going to happen, it destroyed her, the last remnants of her sanity finally disappearing.

“If I help you... Will I die?”

Void’s smile grew wider, his eyes with a wild glint that she couldn’t ignore, making her shudder.

“I need you to feed me, the boy is too weak now... we need you, you want to take care of him, this is how you’ll do it” He put a stray of hair behind her ear “which means, I can’t kill you.” 

“What’s gonna happen to Stiles?” Y/N felt herself drowning in empty lies, but it felt so good to have Stiles like this, so close to her body. 

“I’ll leave his body eventually.” He seemed to be hiding something important, but at that point, Y/N didn’t mind.

What things would you do to be with the person you love?

She looked into those honey brown eyes, and soon enough she realized there was something missing, but she also noticed that this was the first time Stiles looked at her with such intensity, and her mind went blank. Drunk with his scent and proximity, she nodded, one last tear falling down her face.

“Good girl” Void whispered.

Before she could react, Void grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her fiercely, dominating every movement and making very clear who was in charge. While Void kissed her, she felt as if she was being drained, a strange emptiness taking over her body, but at the same time, the overwhelming sensation of having Stiles’ lips on her own, was enough to distract her from any possible danger.  

Things were about to go worse than expected.

[vieuxnoyesrp]

Drowning in blood and death the way it once drowned in magic, the French Quarter watches as  war approaches. Solemn and slow, every day it creeps closer with the tide, seeking blood and death to feed on, blood and death to spread. With all the blood spilled in these months past, one would think the blood thirst would be slaked, but instead, the old souls of the Quarter crave more. Their thirst cannot be quenched, and they will have the blood they seek. 

Members! We are delighted to release our Season Two Plot Drop, and usher VNRP into it's third year and second season. Beneath you will find information for each character regarding where they stand at the beginning of this new season. The plot drop implies a slight time jump of about a month. Current threads which take place in the interim are welcome to continue on, but any threads taking place following the plot drop, we ask to consider the time jump. As always, please read the entire post, not just the sections related to your characters. It's important for our abilities to plot with one another that we all keep up with the storylines of every character in VN, to the best of our abilities.

Regarding Marcel’s new laws, we know this will make RPing a little more difficult, but we ask that members really try to follow these rules so as to make the limitations in the Quarter feel real. Alternatively, make sure that the difficulties your characters face in breaking them are acknowledged and don’t go without consequence. These rules will not be permanent, of course. If you would like your character to break the rules, we ask that you run your intended plot past us so that we can help ensure the most realistic portrayal.   Anything in this post is a gentle guideline, and open to negotiation. If you have questions or concerns, please feel free to contact us and we will do our best to work with you to find a mutually pleasing solution. If anyone would like information regarding the loose character arc we have envisioned for their character in Season Two, all you need to do is ask. Though we hardly need to remind you lovely people, just a gentle reminder to please strive to be as inclusive as possible as we usher in this new season, both with our new members, and the characters on our dash. The comments you leave on each other's posts are inspiring and heart-warming, and we hope the tradition continues on into our new season. Be creative, enjoy the story we get to tell together and laissez les bons temps rouler! -The Admins @ VN

Reeling from the pain of losing Davina, Marcel Gerard has gripped the spirits she left behind in a punishing grasp. The rules he implemented following the original Harvest were mere child’s play compared to the draconian martial law that rules today. No weres are allowed on the east bank, and have been banished to Algiers and the Bayou. The Mikaelsons have been placed under house arrest with a permanent vampire guard. Anyone practicing magic is subject to immediate death without trial. Lost in his grief, Marcel doesn’t care about any pain he might be inflicting; in fact, he welcomes the company. 

Like any true war profiteer, Katherine Pierce has deviated from her go-to game plan and placed herself right on the battle lines. Running hasn’t worked for her thus far, and this time, she’s going to control the cards as they fall. Playing double agent, Katherine has made herself indispensable to Marcel as the leading lady of his intelligence network. Little does he know that she’s promised the same to the Mikaelsons, who bear the brunt of Marcel’s enmity, passing valuable information about his plans their way. She’s not sure which side she’s rooting for, but she doesn’t need to be, not yet. She can make that decision when the winning party comes forward. Gia Talwar finds herself in a similar position, though she’s a lot less happy about it. Though her allegiance has always been with Elijah, Marcel had never been a bad leader before. She finds herself wanting to be there for him in his grief, part of the family of vampires rallying around their leader in his time of need, but she won’t turn her back on Elijah either. She splits her time between them, managing to pick up a position as one of the guards on the Mikaelson estate. She’s not sure exactly how far she’s willing to go to pay her debts to Elijah, and to honor the budding friendship between them, but she’ll have to figure that out, and soon. 

The Mikaelsons sit on the frontlines of Marcel’s warpath, bristling under the intense scrutiny and ever-increasing ordinances. Though sympathetic to his plight, they are not suited to meek submission, and plots and plans abound. Klaus Mikaelson seeks an alliance with Hayley Marshall, stoking the fires of her anger. With the successful hybrid transformation of Scott McCall, the sky is the limit. With war hovering on the horizon, he has dreams of an army, and the wolves that howl at the moon in reverence of their lost brother dream of blood between their teeth. Rebekah Mikaelson navigates the return of a long-lost sister, something her half-brother refuses to acknowledge, but which she is desperate to grasp with both hands. Freya Mikaelson seeks a place amongst her volatile siblings, a quest which will not be easily resolved. Or so it may seem. She is not the only Mikaelson to have found her way free from the darkness. Kol Mikaelson has been rumored to be lurking, though he has yet to be seen. Elijah Mikaelson plays mediator as ever, but his much-celebrated even temper and talent for patience test him as his siblings fracture, and let that fracture spread into the city he so dearly loves. In an attempt to placate Hayley, Elijah moves to free the Argent huntress from Marcel’s clutches and deliver her to the alpha, only to discover the Argent hunter in residence at the garden is not the huntress he was looking for. He delivers Chris Argent into the jaws of the wolves anyway, and hopes that it’s enough to slake the blood thirst he can see growing in Hayley’s eyes. Chris doesn’t deserve to die for the crimes of his sister, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t make a perfectly acceptable bargaining chip regardless. 

Hayley Marshall is out for blood, and is raising tensions in the Bayou as she calls for war against the vampires, with Marcel’s chafing rules and overzealous punishments. The witches are her first target, of course, but to root them out of her city for good, she needs to be ruling her city for good, and that means Marcel has to go. Malia Tate and Cora Hale seem to butt heads when it comes to their alpha’s plans. Malia won’t pretend that war is something she can stomach. Her family went all in, in the last Labonair war, and she lost everything for it. She’s not going to stand by and watch as her people, her family is ripped to shreds in front of her again. Not this time. Cora isn’t making it easy either, desperate to push away the people pretending to care about her. She wants blood, thinks Malia is naive to imagine this could go down any other way and that’s why she’ll stand by Hayley. But she’s done pretending that family doesn’t have to be blood, because her family is dead and there’s no pretending otherwise.

The loyalties of frienship are tested when Scott McCall reveals the true reason behind his disappearance. Both Malia and Cora are torn between fighting for their pack with the Mikaelsons on their side, and fighting the Mikaelsons for the crime they committed against Scott. Tyler Lockwood struggles with feelings of guilt for not arriving at the scene sooner. He channels this guilt into supporting Hayley’s campaign for war, mobilizing the wolves of the Bayou in her favor. The idea of war scares him, though, after the damage he saw Jennifer Blake wreak on his sister and one of his closest friends. Matt Donovan is struggling to keep up, as the depths of the supernatural world are revealed to him. His girlfriend, his sister, and his best friend, too. What other secrets are hiding out there, and what kind of role does he want them to have in his life? Equally out of the loop is Caroline Forbes, already isolated due to her self-exile, watching as the few connections she had to her old life slip through her fingers. Tyler is growing uncomfortably invested in his annoying little sister’s life—his step-sister, she is quick to remind him—and she can’t quite stomach seeing Elena. Even Stiles has gotten so busy, and she can’t help but feel incredibly alone. It’s making her act out, and just like the rest of her, Caroline’s sharp tongue is poised to kill. 

Allison Argent, after everything—the trauma with Jennifer, losing a friend (Isaac) and her father—is left to deal with her fear and her anger under her mother’s wing and Kate’s black influence. Without her father there to temper her views, they skew more towards the extreme of supernatural-antipathy. After all, vampires took her father, and witches killed her friend and nearly her as well. With Cora pushing away her attempts at friendship, and her relationship with Scott fracturing under the pressure they both face, Allison dives into her heritage, seeking comfort, but finding something else entirely. Old family friend, Dinang Prawira, struggles to secure a plan for rebuilding the Guild, caught between the kindness of the Argent women, and the extremity of their visions for the Guild. 

Lydia Martin is done being a victim of her mind and others’ schemes. She may still be healing, but she’s taking her life into her own hands. Like Allison, she searches for answers, but as Allison grows distant, absorbed in her own complicated life, Lydia must resort to research. Fortunately, she happens to be very good at it. She’s taken on Cami’s case as well, determined to figure out what is behind their fugues and time-losses. She finds an unlikely ally in Stiles Stilinski, who is stuck watching the cracks and fissures growing between his friends. Under extra pressure from J&J to find the witch responsible for the attacks, all hands are on deck. Stiles knows, however, that these things are connected and he worries that their friend group will be collateral damage to the greater forces tearing the city apart. Jaxon has noticed the two of them getting closer, and refuses to admit outloud how much it irks him. He’s not jealous of Stiles fucking Stilinski, no way. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to beat the shit out of him for it, though. Adam Sullivan finds himself in a similar position to Lydia. He’s beginning to realize that there are people in the world who might be like him. He’s determined to not feel so alone anymore, and despite being nervous about hurting people, he wants to learn about his abilities, and the people like him who can wield them. Meanwhile, Kira Yukimura doesn’t know what’s going on, but all of the people she had hoped would become her friends have suddenly withdrawn. She’s not sure how she could’ve managed to offend so many people in one go, but she can’t deny, it really hurts. 

Even as an unaware human, Charlie McBride has caught on that something is not quite right within the French Quarter. Though she can't put her finger on it, the questions are multiplying. She's been searching for the two people who might have the answers. What happened that night she'd made plans with Cami? Why was she so determined to ditch her friend? What was Cami so afraid of? And, strangest of all... Why does Stefan come to mind whenever she thinks of that night, despite the fact that she doesn't remember seeing him at all?

In the wake of the failed Harvest, the witches of New Orleans flounder. The last of their magic drained into the earth with Davina Claire’s blood, and the ancestors have yet to deign to return it. The ancestors are displeased; interlopers have come into their lands and taken what rightfully belongs to them. Stefan Salvatore is bewitched - a fitting adjective, given the truth behind the story. For in fact, the Ancestors are puppeteering Lexi’s memory for much more personal gain - Magic will not return to New Orleans until the Salem Impostors are purged from the city. The Ancestors will not see their magic be squandered on the heretics outside of their chosen coven, even if that entails leaving their own children powerless in the meantime. As for Stefan, he is merely a puppet, like Lexi. Engaged to carry out the Ancestors’ will as a vicious witch-weapon, despite the fact that it will cost him in the long-run. Damon Salvatore struggles to contain his brother’s destruction, while simultaneously trying to atone for the sins that have cut him off from any friends he might once have had in the Quarter. 

Sophie Deveraux cannot care less. She had had it right the first time, abandoning magic and the ancestors who abandoned her. To rub salt in her very fresh wounds, while tending to the bodies of the Harvest Children, something that has become a daily habit for her, Sophie realizes Isaac Lahey’s body is missing. Frederick Egrid fairs no better. Terrified that Isaac’s friend will return to finish the job, Egrid lays low, cut off from his only chance at the family he has longed for for so long. Meanwhile, Quentin Herrera is too busy struggling how to adjust to life banished from the Quarter to hunt down Isaac’s killer just yet. With his home forbidden to him, and his job as a bouncer on the line, he’s going to have to do some quick thinking to stay on his feet. Both his pride, and his livelihood, are on the line, and he’s not sure which one is most important to him just yet. 

Jennifer Blake has paid the price for her crimes: the souls she sacrificed have latched onto hers, and there’s no getting rid of them now. As she struggles for basic control of her mind, Mary Sibley struggles to hold the Salem Coven together as they face annihilation. The coven members have been disappearing one at a time, in a most gruesome fashion. They turn up with their appendages torn of, their heads decapitated, and then gently pieced back together in a crude mockery of the person they had once been. Mary vows to find the one responsible, but between holding what remains of the Salem coven together, evading attack herself, and looking after the increasingly tiresome Jennifer, she finds herself dreaming of her one tried and true tactic: run and then rebuild. The only thing stopping her is her missing Sister, Rain. She will stay for Rain and find her. Until then, she cannot be free. 

Compounding on the tragedy the Gilbert’s have already faced, Jenna Sommers has been murdered. Not, for once, by Klaus, but by a plain old human, in cold-blood. Stunned and aggrieved, Elena and Jeremy Gilbert must start their lives over once again without the family they had loved so dearly. To add insult to injury, they’ve inherited all of Jenna’s estate, including the harassment from Rogan Jones about buying the manor off their hands. It’s not a bad offer honestly, but it’s offered in cold blood, and the Gilbert kids can’t help but feel like he’s scavenging. The dirt hasn’t even settled on Jenna’s body yet. John Alden has become a permanent fixture in the Gilbert household, having finally claimed a bedroom in the old and drafty house. He is determined to provide these kids with the stability they have long since deserved, though he doesn’t know the first thing about stability himself. He struggles with nightmares, the ghost of his wife haunting him, and uncanny parallels between the life he had the chance to lead but lost, and the stolen life he finds himself living now. 

Vic Kloeckler-Kuyavar struggles with Cami’s departure from the Quarter, and the burgeoning truth of their marriage to Tajim. They find comfort in the strangest of places, the claws they swiped from Chris Argent so long ago. Still, even they can’t help with the rage and despair they feel, which only seems to be growing with every day that passes. 

In the wake of all the heartbreak, Cami O’Connell returns to New Orleans, drawn back to the City of Loss by too many friends in need. But all her weeks away were not for nothing. She’s done some digging and returns armed with an old picture and many questions. In this last-ditch attempt to make sense of the fragments of her memory, Cami launches herself into full-blown research, where no theory is too silly to consider. She begins with New Orleans’ history - supernatural and otherwise - determined this time to fend for herself, and protect her mind, once and for all. 

[moonslaughter]

WHAT IS THIS / AN INTRO? it is, hey demons its me ya girl! i’m taylor, 18 yrs whatever and i’ll be playing everyone’s favorite fuckable werewolf (thank you mark for that) tyler lockwood! i love superheros, naps, bein lazy as heck and iced coffee! you can find me on discord @/#whitewolves(2758) that’s all!  his stats are here and here is his pinterest board / child abuse, mental health, and alcoholism trigger warnings 

tyler was born prematurely on halloween (how ironic) causing great issue to his two loving parents carol and richard lockwood. for better say tyler has been a problem child since birth, but that was not always his intention of course

he is the only biological child of richard lockwood and his only son, yet, the man has always treated him as a failure despite tyler only sixteen and full of potentional. he may not get the best grades but he is average and compensates for what he cannot in sports which seems to suffice for now

richard has never taken kindly to the unforgiving rage that has always been inside of tyler who for the life of him cannot back down from a fight. he's almost aggressively brave and while has gone along with a lot of what his father asks would not give it a second thought to argue with him on something he is passionate about. 

the anger problems he clearly inherits from his father were more or less a side effect of the wolf burrowing under his skin anticipating the trigger to set free. tyler is completely unaware of the supernatural at the moment, the whole lot, and has absolutely no clue to the fact that he is a werewolf. 

unfortunately his greatest fear is not his father but becoming him. in fact it terrifies him that one day he'll be the mirrored imagine of richard lockwood and that's his worst nightmare. tyler wants to find love and grow up happy doing what he loves, not a miserable angered man like his father. 

since he was a little kid tyler has grit his teeth and stepped in front of his sister out of protection whenever the threat may occur. whether that be shitty boyfriends or their father, despite lydia being a little older he has always been protective of her and whoever chooses to fuck with lydia martin is going to have to deal with him first. 

due to their close age lydia has been tyler's best friend since they were kids. it never mattered that they did not share a father and it could never change anything. regardless of technicalities lydia is his sister and he wouldn't want anyone else to have to put up with his bullshit.

child abuse tw // while carol may not be aware of it on a handful of occasions tyler had been " taught a lesson " by his father after acting out through teenage rebellion. it almost always entitled being back handed or thrown against a wall, ty puts on a brave face like it doesn't mean shit to him but secretly he is afraid. if anything he will gladly deal with it over lydia having to face the wrath of her step-father

alcoholism tw // tyler might be the definition of a cliche frat boy. he is a massive jock, wears god awful dad shirts and is the person to beat at beer pong but throughout forbidden high school parties he's gotten into the habit of drinking a little too much. at first it was a sip here or there, which then turned into a few bottles before that shifted to half empty whiskey bottles hidden under his bed away from prying eyes. there have been plenty of times where the newly junior has shown up to first period with tired eyes and a killer head ache. like father like son. 

mental health tw // between the abuse and drowning it in alcohol it has left tyler a little more than damaged. he's managed to keep it pretty on the down-low from a lot of people but it's hard for him to understand that he can't be perfect and he doesn't have to be. he's sad and just needs acceptance even if it is not something he thinks he'll ever get from the person he seeks it most.

such a mama's boy tbh??? like there must be a billion baby pictures of tyler holding his mother's hand and trailing behind her like a little duck. it's pretty precious but now that he's older he doesn't want to bother his mother and leaves his own issues to be dealt with himself. she's still his hero and he wishes that she did not have to deal with someone as shitty as his dad.

nsync vc: BI BI BI

tyler has never been in love, not for real. he's had girlfriends and boyfriends, hooked up with people and been in many pleasent company but he's never got even a slim experience of love. most of his relationships don't last longer than a couple of months and to be honest even if he did catch solid feelings for someone he wouldn't be able to stay. he'll never admit to it but he has a hard time accepting that he is enough so the idea of deserving love or someone amazing is abstract to him. he doesn't want it. ( pls give him exes omg )

on that point though he is infatuated with vicki ( gotta work stuff out there ) it ain't love probably but he likes being in her company and like,,, she's beautiful so who is he to complain? again this will be added too in the future but yeah 

he tends to speak before thinking things through and this is why i contemplate: why does tyler have friends? not going to lie, he's kind of a dick. he is well aware he's a dick too and most of the time he can't help it ( blames it on being a scorpio smh )

the thing about tyler is that he has good intentions, like he really means well most of the time but most of what he says either sounds awful or he acts like a cliche rich boy to impress people. tyler is seeking acceptance to fill the void that his father's disapproval left in him and well, it's clearly damaged him a lot. 

doesn't always make the best choices ( and this needs to be plotted out still ) but i'd like to say that tyler is pretty damn loyal. he is willing to die for his friends and eventually will gain ones that he does in later seasons of the show so more than just matt.

is a pissy little bitch at times and yes wants to fight the small baby child that is jeremy gilbert. has straight up asked what the child is doing here when jer is around, just let him be extra.

he is such a nerd!!! loves superhero movies and star wars!!! probably has all the marvel movies not going to lie but also really enjoys horror movies just saying

his best class is gym and shockingly english

the most dramatic rich boy you'll probably ever meet but shrug emoji, he is a lockwood dammit and he'll be dramatic as hell. punch him in the face? he'll make a bloody nose look good. 

aesthetics include: wet hair, howling, thick forest trees, dirt under finger nails, the fresh smell of coffee, dark grain in wood, worn down sneakers, chalk dust, the chime of a whistle, bloody noses, expensive whiskey, fire places and football jerseys. 

char insp: loren hale, nate archibald, sirius black, jake fitzgerald and jace wayland.

[stilinski-jpeg]

Chaos Has Come Again

A/N: I was so inspired by this gif set of a ‘dark angel” Stiles that I had to write something for it. I’m calling this a drabble because there’s no real plot, but it’s definitely a longggg drabble. lol Thank you to @minhosmeanhoe for editing it, because I’m sure she did. Also I wrote this in like 2 hours so and I will edit it any further tomorrow if need be. lol I couldn’t find the creator of this gif or gifset, but if someone or the creator messages me ! I will be more than happy to tag them and give them credit. But I did not make this gif nor am I the owner of it.

Word count: 2737

Warning: It’s kind of dark and talks about the devil, and there’s smut (;

Paring: StilesxReader

“Where'd they take him?” Sheriff Stilinski asked again as Melissa McCall scanned a flashlight into my eyes.

 As she did, a memory hit of only hours ago when Stiles was being dragged away into the darkness. He was unconscious barely even breathing, but he was alive. He didn’t see it coming when I swung the large piece of wood over my head and slammed it over his head. He toppled to the ground instantly, his eyes trying their hardest to focus on me. I wasted no time in grabbing him by the feet and dragging him out of the lightless loft. It was difficult doing it by myself, but not impossible.

 “Hey!” John Stilinski snapped, pushing past Melissa into my line of sight.

 “John!” Melissa protested but he ignored her, grabbing my face roughly and forcing me to look at him.

 “Where is my son?” He practically growled at me.

 I had to give it to the Sheriff he was trying. But even if I’d miraculously had a change of heart, I still couldn’t tell him where his precious son was. Stiles was free to roam now and nothing he or anyone else did could change that.

 “How should I know?” I smiled at him, looking back just as fiercely in the eyes.

 The rage in the him was evident. He did little to hide the fact that I was angering him. My smile widened at that the thought of how distraught he must be. Stiles was constantly in trouble with his supernatural friends and the Sheriff never liked the idea of his only son running around Beacon Hills with nothing more than a bat to protect himself. No one expected I was what I was when they all met me, even Lydia. Especially not Stiles, I could feel his eyes on me as I pushed my way down the lunch line one fall afternoon. I looked back nonchalantly only to see him oogling, his mouth slightly hung open, and his amber eyes sparkling bright. I smiled at him and he fumbled to turn around in his seat, as if I hadn’t already caught him staring.

 When he approached me at my locker later that day, I could feel how nervous he was. Everything in me wanted to exploit that, watch him as he squirmed under my pressure-I couldn’t though. I needed him to like me if I was going to carry out my master’s plan. My master had been seeking out someone like Stiles for as long as I could remember, often killing several people just to get what he wanted.

 He found Stiles wondering around the forest of a small town that was a beacon to all supernatural beings. I wasn’t convinced at first that he wasn’t some superhuman. But Master assured me he wasn’t.

 He was so easy to seduce too. He really was an average horny teenage boy willing to do just about anything at the sight of tits. I saw him at Lydia Martin's annual birthday bash. He’d only had a beer, maybe two, by the smell of him and was already seizing up my body when I approached him. Although I would never admit it out loud, it did get me a little wet watching him. He was attractive without really trying, but those fucking eyes are what did me in every time.

 I was sure to wear the lowest cut top I could buy, showing off too much cleavage to be legal. Girls scowled while boys drooled as I passed, making my way to Stiles. The few drinks he’d had, had enhanced his courage and he seemed less nervous than he normally did.

 “I’m surprised to see you here.” He said, finally looking away from my tits to look at me.

 “Are you?” I asked, my own surprise shining through.

 “I’d think you’d be too cool for all this.”

 Normally I would be. I didn’t care for high school when I was in it. Now being a hundred and ten years old, having to relive the whole experience over again in a new millennium was the last thing I wanted to be doing. Yet here I was, flirting with a golden eyed boy that I’d been ordered to bring to Lucifer himself.

 “Well I heard you’d be here.” I shrugged like I just hadn’t said the words that he’d been dying to hear.

 His cheeks flushed, as he took a sip of his red solo cup trying to calm his nerves. I smiled sweetly at him, biting down on my bottom lip. “You okay there, Stilinski?”

 “Trust me, I couldn’t be better.”

 I hated the rush of adrenaline that surged through my body, warming it slightly. Stiles was having a weird effect on me-I didn’t like it.

 “I can think of a couple of ways you could be better.” I said, licking my lips.

 How I ended up with my legs in the air as he ploughed into me was a blur. It was somewhere between the sexual innuendos and flirtatious touching that our lips met and we blindly found ourselves in an empty bedroom. His lips dragged down my body, sucking and nipping at the swell of my breasts causing me to hiss in response. We desperately clawed at each other's clothes until we were left in nothing but our underwear.

 He threw me onto the bed and I couldn’t help the expel of giggles that escaped when he did. A second later his lean and warm body was pressed against mine as he attacked my neck. I could feel him pulling the bruises to the surface of my skin with just his mouth. I whined as I ran my nails roughly down his back. His only revenge was to bite down hard, which I fucking loved. His hand roamed down my body between us until he reached my black thong. He expertly slipped into them and swirled his finger in my arousal. I moaned, not being able to hold back at his touch. I could feel his smug smile against my neck as he moved faster and faster, his patterns never consistent. I arched my back as I could feel myself tense up and a second later I was cuming unapologetically. He connected​ our mouths again, swallowing every moan and moving his fingers until he was sure I’d ridden out my high completely.

 He pulled away his eyes like coal, the amber flames that once were, burned out into black orbs of lust. He sat up, his body positioned perfectly between my legs. It was my turn to oogle at him in awe. I’d watched Stiles for a long time, but never  had I seen him like this. The muscles on his body were flexed and tight, while his cock begged to be let free of its confinements. My mouth began to water as I thought of wrapping my lips around his hard cock, hollowing my cheeks so that the space was tighter for him and my eyes watering as he gripped onto my hair and fucked my mouth. Occasionally hitting the back of my throat, causing me to gag around him. I could almost hear the sound he would make as it did.

 I licked my lips, preparing them for the plan that I’d already worked out in my head. I started to sit up, eyeing his dick all the while, but he stopped me before I could. His hand grasped my shoulder stopping me from sitting up any further before pushing me back softly and forcing me to lay back down. The sudden dominance in this boy I’d thought of as awkward and defenseless, was beyond arousing. I watched as he hooked his fingers into my thong and slid the thin material off my body, throwing it somewhere in the dark room. His eye never left mine as he pushed my legs apart wider before pulling down his boxers revealing his hard swollen member. I whimpered upon the sight of it, the tip glistening already with precum. The precum I desperately wanted to taste. I would never get the chance though as he glided his cock into my wet pussy. He sighed as he filled me, my walls involuntarily tightening around him. Then he began mercilessly pounding me into the mattress, no warning or anything.

 I thought it’d be harder than it was to do what my master had instructed after Stiles had fucked me into oblivion, but it wasn’t. When I called him the next night, asking him to meet me at some abandoned lofts downtown for another rendezvous, a thrill came over me. Not the kind that reached all the way down to my core, but one that made my heart beat a little faster and my fingers tingle.

 He knocked on the door, a few minutes before I told him to be there. I rolled my eyes at his eagerness but went to open the door anyways. He stepped into the loft, his eyes looking around at all the empty space. The loft was completely empty, nothing but dust filling the space.

 “Do you live here-” Stiles asked, slowly turning back to me. But before he could even finish it, I slammed a heavy piece of wood on his head.

 When he awoke from his not so sound slumber, he was lying on the same type of beds they used for mental patients in psych wards. A bright light shone above his head, making it nearly impossible for him to see anything else beyond. He pulled at his restraints as soon as he realized they were around him, trying desperately to find a weak spot in them. When that didn’t work, he quickly took in the room he was in. It was too dark for him to see me from where I stood. I leaned against the wall, arms folded, as I watched him begin to call out for someone, anyone.

 I smiled at his feeble attempts, laughed at how pathetic they were. Once Lucifer had you in his possession, there was nothing that could get you out. When Stiles started screaming for help, is when my master made his appearance. He too stood in the shadows, watching this creature’s mannerisms.

 “Ah, Stiles. There’s simply no use son. No one can hear you where we are.”

 Stiles gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he did. “And where are we?”

 He was quick, I would give him that. Most people screamed or cried when master told them that. But Stiles, although the fear was evident on his face, maintained his hard expression. My master didn’t answer the human boy’s question, instead he paced around him. He took in the specimen that he’d been searching after for centuries.

 “You’ll do nicely.” Master smiled, something he rarely ever did.

 Stiles eyes widen slightly at his words, feeling the imminent doom encompassing him. My master pulled a syringe out of his pocket. It was filled with a black liquid that was laced with pure evil. I’d seen Lucifer inject many potentials with this serum. All dying before the effects had fully set in. Something told me though, that Stiles would be different.

 At the sight of the needle, the disheveled haired boy began squirming in his restraints again. He fought as best as one could under the circumstances, but in the end he lost. My master grabbed his arm holding it still and pressed the syringe into Stiles’s skin. I could see even from where I stood the dark liquid filling his veins and flowing into his bloodstream. He was already screaming by the time the syringe was emptied into him. His body began to shake violently and eyes struggled to stay open. Black liquid started to flowing from his mouth and ears, his screaming just gargles now as his body stopped its movements.

 “Is it working Master?” I asked meekly, taking a step towards him.

 “Shhh.” He hushed me, raising a hand to halt me.

 We watched for several minutes in anticipation waiting for some sign that the serum had worked. I went to speak again when I was halted once again but this time by Stiles. His eyes flung open, making me jump slightly. They were normal for only a moment, before inky black glossed over his eyes. If I hadn’t seen it happen, I would have thought he didn’t have any at all. He stayed, unmoving, on the bed his breathing steady and even. His eyes impossible to read. From around his neck Lucifer produced a chain and attached to it a cross. I hissed at it, taking several steps back until I was at the wall again. My master however seemed unphased by the object as he walked closer to Stiles with it. His head mechanically turned toward the cross, watching as my master walk towards him. Stiles lifted his hand, breaking free from the straps that once held him back, to block the burning radiance of the cross. His skins started to disintegrate from his body revealing bloody red tissue underneath. As painful as it must of been Stiles never flinched, even after Master had pulled away.

 “At last, I have found my angel.” Lucifer snarled, lifting his fist slightly in triumph.

 John’s grip on my chin was starting to hurt but I would never let him know that. It was far too much fun to watch the worry swim through his eyes. Melissa placed her hand tenderly over the one that held my chin, speaking softly to him. “John, you have to let go. There will be no way to explain to anyone why you’re hurting a little teenage girl.”

 Reluctantly, he pulled away from me. Melissa still whispering useless reassurance to him. He was foolish to think he was every going to get his son back. Stiles was dead, almost literally and whatever the Sheriff thought he could get back was a mere shadow of what he once was.

 “Just tell me where my son is.” John whispered over to me, but I only smiled back not willing to give anything up.

 “Sheriff!” Deputy Parrish burst into the room, breathing heavily as he looked from Melissa and John then back to me.

 “Parrish, what is it?” Sheriff Stilinski asked hopefully.

 “We found him! We found Stiles.” He replied, but something in his tone didn’t imply happy new. But I already knew that.

 Melissa and the sheriff exchanged joyous looks before scrambling to their feet to head out of the door. Before they could, Parrish stopped them. A grimace forming on his perfectly sculpted face.

 “There something else,” The young deputy said, looking down at the ground.

 “What else could there be?” Melissa asked, her grip on the sheriff tightening.

 “When a couple of the other officers picked him up, he didn’t put up a fight at first,”

 “At first?” John questioned with confusion.

“Yeah, your son attacked them once they put him into the squad car.” Parrish explained.

 “Attacked? Is everyone okay?” It took the deputy a moment to answer Sheriff Stilinski’s question. He seemed to be battling with himself to find the best way to break the news.

 “He killed them.” He said finally, hanging his head so he wouldn't have to meet their gaze.

 The room was completely silent, even the beeping of the machines seemed to quiet at the information. From seemingly out of nowhere, Parrish produced a picture the sound of the thick paper echoed in the hushed room.

 “There’s also this.” The Sheriff took the photo from his deputy looking over it frantically and clearly not understanding what he saw.

 He turned quickly, taking two large steps before standing in front of me once again. John Stilinski shoved the photo into my face and growled.”What the hell is this?”  I looked over the picture analyzing what I saw. The picture was of Stiles, his back was turned towards the camera and someone was lifting his shirt up to show tattoo like markings covering his back. Different celtic symbols had been carved into him, where none had lived before.

 I smiled, looking past it and at him. “And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him. And he said, ‘Let the dark angel wreak havoc over the earth.’ 

[superteenwolftrash]

Intervention/Stiles Stilinski Smut

Most of these are taken from my Wattpad account! (Twtrash01)

Send me requests for the following Fandoms: Teenwolf, Vampire Diaries, Dolantwins, OUAT(Peter Pan, Robbie Kay, Supernatural, Suicide Squad, The 100. Basically I’ll write for any fandom. I’ll write non-smut as well. Be specific in what you want! *I DON’T OWN ANY GIFS*

Part 2

Request: Hi!!!! I love your writings so much! Could you write a smut with Stiles? And there's handcuffs and the reader is super dominant?

This is Trash

3rd Person

"Do you have any idea how many people she's killed?" Scott asked his best friend, Scott and the rest of the pack called a meeting. It was to discuss Stiles and Y/N's relationship. Ever since Y/N strolled into town Stiles was attached to her, she didn't even compel him. Not once Stiles was willing and more than happy to be with her. Despite her being a vampire, Stiles had become more than aware of the supernatural so he didn't see the big deal. His friends on the other hand became very aware of Y/N after she had went on a little killing spree in Beacon Hills. They couldn't touch her though, although Scott was a true alpha with a pack she was still stronger than them. "She's not a bad person!" Stiles defended, he was blind because he was in love. "Are you hearing yourself?" Lydia chimed in, "She's killed probably hundreds! Maybe even thousands of people!" Lydia added, "She kills for sport!" Scott said, causing Stiles to roll his eyes. "So what do you want me to do?" Stiles asked, "You gotta break it off." Scott stated, Stiles let out a dry chuckle. "I finally found a girl that I love who loves me back and you want me to ruin that?" Stiles scoffed, shaking his head not being able to hear anymore of this nonsense.

Y/N's POV I watched Stiles stroll out of the McCall house. He was clearly distraught, "Their little invention over so soon?" I spoke causing Stiles's head to snap towards me. "It's just me." I giggled, "They're totally fine when their girlfriends or boyfriends go in crazy murderous rampages but when it's my own they flip shit." Stiles groaned, I cupped his face in my hands. "But you don't listen to them, Right?" I asked him, "Of course not. I love you." He said, causing a smirk to appear on my face. "Let's go back to you house, yeah?" I smiled and Stiles nodded. We got back to his house and as soon as we stepped though the front door I had his back pressed against it. My lips nipped at his neck, my fingers tangling into his hair. I pressed my body flush against Stiles, already feeling his erection on my thigh. This is gonna be fun, I thought to myself. I moved my lips to his, pressing them firmly against his soft ones. I felt his tongue try to push past my lips causing me to pull away. He was breathless and I had a smirk on my face and I slowly made my way up the stairs. Leaving him there to watch my every move, I quickly made my way up to his room. I could hear his feet stomping up the steps, he stopped in the door way. Before he could say another word I had him on the bed, I grabbed his left hand and I cuffed it to the headboard before doing the same to his right hand. He tugged at the cuffs, a red circle already appearing on his wrists. I sat so I was straddling his waist, I was relishing in the fact I had complete control over him. But let's be honest here, I always had control over him. I ripped the front of his t-shirt open, exposing his chest to me. I licked my lips in anticipation, I remembered all of the spots where I had bitten him. Of course I had healed him from those, he just loved when I bite him. "Y/N?" He spoke, I could hear the jingling of the cuffs. "Shh." I whispered, placing my lips to his. This time I was the one who pushed my tongue into his mouth. Stiles didn't even put up a fight for dominance. I reached down between us and I started rubbing his erection through his jeans. A groan left his lips and went straight to mine, my eyes lit up in satisfaction. He bucked his hips against my hands, I pulled away from his lips. I started kissing down his heaving chest until I reached the top of his pants. I unbuckled them with one hand, before pulling them down his legs along with his boxers. His cock sprung up and out, looking painfully delicious. I could feel my mouth water at the sight of him already dripping precum. I ran my fingers up his thigh, gripping the base of his cock. I felt him shudder beneath my touch, "Fuck." He groaned, bucking his lips. "How about you tell me how bad you want it?" I asked with a smirk, Stiles eyes fluttered shut. He brought his bottom lip between his teeth, it was truly a sight for sore eyes. "I don't want it. I need it! I need you, so fucking bad!" Stiles pleaded, his eyes meeting mine. I could see the desperation in his eyes and I just adored it. I brought my lips to the tip of his cock, moaning as I sucked the pre cum from the tip. Stiles's body shuttered, his breath became uneven and his heart sped up. I loved the effect I had on him, just as I was about to fully take him into my mouth the doorbell rang. Stiles's eyes shot open as he let out a whine. I pulled away, "You wait here!" I said with a giggle, as if he could leave. "I'll be right back." I said with a smile, as I left the naked boy cuffed to his bed. I skipped down the stairs, my smile never faltering since I knew who was behind that door. "Y/N?" Lydia spoke, "Ah Lydia Martin. To what do I owe the pleasure?" I asked with a smirk, "I want to talk to Stiles." She demanded and I chuckled. "He's a little busy right now." I glared at her, "I don't care." She spoke, "I'm surprised. You're braver than I thought, although I may be confusing bravery with stupidity." I explained, grabbing her by the throat. She didn't even have time to scream before I sunk my teeth into her neck. Her blood was bitter, kinda like her. She fell limp to the ground, I looked out the door to see if anyone saw a thing. When I determined that they didn't I moved her back with my heel. Pushing her out of the way so I could close the door, I know what you're thinking. Oh my god you killed her, No I didn't. She'll be fine if somebody finds her within the hour or half who knows. I wiped the corner of my mouth, getting rid of her blood. I made my way back up stairs to a Stiles who was struggling desperately to get out of the handcuffs. "Thank god!" He groaned, he didn't even have a care who was at the door. "Did somebody miss me?" I asked innocently, crawling back into the bed. Resuming my position with his cock in my mouth, he started bucking his hips. Meaning I had to hold him down on the bed by his thighs, "F-Fuck Y/N!" He moaned, Stiles never lasted long when it came to my mouth. I bobbed up and down on his cock, purposely dragging my teeth along him. A gasp leaving his lips, "I-Fuck I'm gonna cum!" He groaned out, I by default when faster. My head bobbing up and down on his cock at a very fast pace. Stiles hips sputtered, then he was gone. His cum was shooting down my throat, a satisfied moan leaving his lips. I pulled away, wiping my mouth. "Your mouth is always so fucking amazing!" He gushed. I bit my bottom lip, I leaned over and uncuffed him. "Open your mouth." I told him and he did, I brought my wrist to my mouth biting into it drawing blood. I handed my wrist to Stiles who gladly took it, sucking the blood from my quick healing wound. "Get dressed, quickly." I told him, "What's going on?" He asked, rubbing his wrists. "Your friends are coming. I'm gonna give you what you've been begging for." I promised him, of course there being another pro of my actions. Stiles didn't think twice before getting dressed, the next second his 'pack' busted through the door carrying the body of none other than Miss Lydia Martin. "You!" Scott roared, stepping towards me. Stiles stepped in front of me blocking Scott from getting to me. "You're protecting her? Look what she did?" Scott growled, gesturing to Lydia. I leaned slightly so I could get a look at his face, He was clearly surprised at what I had done to Lydia. "As a show of good faith I'll heal her!" I said, grabbing an empty on Stiles's nightstand and biting my wrist once against to fill it will blood. I handed the cup to Stiles who in return went to gave it to Scott who was hesitant but he and I could both hear the sound of Lydia’s heart rate dropping. Scott grabbed it then gave it to Malia. I could tell Scott wasn't done with me, "Scott you can't-" Stiles started to speak but I snapped his neck before he could. Scott looked at me in shock, "Tell him he has to feed when he wakes up or he'll die. I'll be back for him." I said with a smirk before quickly using my vamp speed to get out of there.

[pantstomatch]

@andromedainwonderland said:

Teen Wolf-Scooby Doo, as in, the Teen Wolf crew driving around in the Jeep solving supernatural mysteries. Just me?

So I don’t know what this is, but this fic turned out to be my ARCH NEMESIS, so, you know, make of that what you will. It’s even alternating POVs, which I haven’t written in years upon years. So please appreciate how much this story wanted to kill me, and how we’re still eyeing each other with open hostility from different corners of the room.

The groundskeeper has gnarled, knotted fingers and rheumy eyes, and it takes five hundred years for him to turn the key in the rusted padlock.  The gate creaks almost as loud as his bones, and Derek flicks an ear in irritation.

“That’s a big dog you’ve got there,” he says, only mildly curious.

Stiles buries one hand in the scruff around Derek’s neck. “Not sure he is one,” Stiles says, and Derek cocks his head up at him.

Scott has the van idling behind them.

Derek takes a deep breath and sneezes. Decay, old blood, and sulfur flood his senses—he whines softly. He doesn’t have a good feeling about this.

The old house looms in front of them, stone and spires, ominous, cloaked in shadows thrown by the nearly full moon. His skin ripples under his fur, uneasy, and he tucks his tail between his legs.

“Relax,” Stiles murmurs to him. “This is easy money, right? A simple salt and burn.”

Derek huffs, knocks into Stiles’ side as he hastily turns around, and then slinks back to the van. He doesn’t like this place. He never likes haunted places, too much lingering despair that stirs up old guilt, but this house feels like it’s made out of skeleton bones, dread sits like a stone in his belly.

Lydia already has the side of the van open. He hops in, slides past Kira, and then digs into Stiles’ open duffle, buries his snout in an old t-shirt that smells a little bit like Scott, too.

“Dude,” Stiles says when he climbs in after him. “Come on.”

Derek growls, low in his throat, and Stiles backs off with a huffy, “Fine, be that way.”

The van grinds into gear and rolls forward slowly, tires bumping over the cobblestone drive, and Derek feels like his chest is caving in.

*

Stiles doesn’t know why he gets to be Keeper of the Wolf: official title. Wolf doesn’t seem to particularly like any of them,  is the thing, except Stiles is generally the only person he’ll even remotely listen to—barring Scott’s Alpha Voice, which he rarely, if ever, uses—and more often than not Wolf just… follows Stiles around.

It’s not like Stiles can’t guess who he is. He’s a traumatized Hale relation, obviously, since they found him two months ago living in filth and sadness in the shell of the old Hale house—and hadn’t that been a fun job, with a half-feral werewolf trying to thwart all their plans to lay the Hales to rest. Granted, they’d been hired by a contractor to help tear the place down. The ghosts were the peaceful part of that deal.

Nobody had warned them about the locally famed Demon Wolf that guarded the place.

They’d had a couple things to their advantage, though. The really big one being Scott’s True Alpha status, and the astoundingly effective way it made Wolf come to heel. Their backup plan had included Kira calling down lightning and Stiles’ stash of mountain ash, and he’s really happy they didn’t actually have to use that, in retrospect.

Wolf has a sensitive nose and a deep-seated fear of thunder storms.

This house, the North Mansion, has been languishing on the real estate market for over five years, and the current owner’s sick of all potential buyers getting chased off.

It could be raccoons—that’s happened before—but going by Wolf’s reaction, Stiles is leaning a little more toward malicious poltergeist.

He rubs his hands together in anticipation as they pull up to the top of the curved drive. They haven’t had a good old exorcism for a while. This is going to be fun.

*

Even though Derek wants to hide away in the van for the entire job, he only hesitates a moment to follow when everyone else clambers out. He keeps low to the ground, gaze dipped, and seeks out Stiles by scent.

Stiles rubs one of his ears between his fingers, and Derek noses the back of his knee.

Lydia says, “Huh,” and Derek finally looks up just in time to see her stuff her phone back into the purse she has slung over her shoulder.

“What?” Kira says, glancing around wildly. “Does anyone else think this house is, like, extra creepy?”

Derek woofs in agreement.

And then the door slowly creaks open on its own.

Stiles says, “Cool,” with a stupid amount of enthusiasm, and Derek bites into his jeans to keep him from just flouncing inside.  “Ow, what the fuck, dude?”

Stiles tries to shake him off, but Derek feels like he’s being watched, the hair down the middle of his back bristles, and his lips open up into a soundless snarl around the caught denim.

Kira’s eyes flare orange and a light beyond the doorway flickers on.

“No, wait,” Scott says, a hand on Lydia’s arm. “What do you mean by huh?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Lydia says, hands on her hips. She looks at the open door, tilts her head back to gaze up the slick, moss covered stone.  “Ask me again after we step inside.”

There’s an elaborate wolf head carved into a knocker on the door, elongated canines carefully fit around a metal ring.

Derek’s ears flatten against his head. He can hear the echo of phantom howls, and he lets go of Stiles’ jeans to press closer to his legs.

Stiles stumbles under his weight, says, “Whoa, Wolf,” and lets him huddle between his feet, hastily balancing into a crouch over him.

Derek only relaxes minutely under the hands on his head and back.

Something wrong happened here.

There are too many dead, and all of them are angry.

*

Lydia freezes in the front foyer at the bottom of a wide staircase, eyes glazing over, fingers curled into Stiles’ arm. Her nails dig into his skin hard enough to cut, and he wraps his other hand around her wrist to ground her.

“What is it?” Scott says.

The air inside is cold. Stiles doesn’t hear the dead, not like Lydia, at least, but he can tell when the space is so packed with spirits no warmth can touch it.

He can see his breath, and Wolf shivers beside him.

It’s oppressive, and Wolf backs up onto his haunches, like he’s ready to bolt.

Lydia’s voice does the eerie doubling thing, like two of her are talking at once. “The wolves,” she says, words echoing off the marble tiled floor. “They slaughtered them all.”

“Hunters?” Stiles says. They’ve had the displeasure of coming across many a hunter over the past couple years—a ragtag group of supernaturals solving mysteries attracts an unsurprising amount of attention. They always leave an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

“No,” Lydia says, and then shakes off the voice with a slight stumble of step that she’s visibly annoyed by. She straightens and tugs down her shirt and clears her throat.

“Who was it?” Kira says. She’s poking around the light fixtures, and then the hallway to the left lights up, bulbs glowing one by one down the long corridor. She grins brightly and does a fist pump.

“I’m—“ Lydia’s perfect brow wrinkles a little. “Wolves?”

Wolf’s ears suddenly prick up, and he lurches forward, nose in the air.

Scott’s fangs drop and his eyes flash red. He says, “Someone’s in here. Alive.”

*

All the lightbulbs explode at once, and Kira says, “Sorry,” just before Derek gets thrown back against a wall.

His head spins, there’s a pressure in his chest keeping him pinned in the corner of the foyer, paws scrambling uselessly on the floor.

Stiles yells, “Why do we always fucking do this at night, how come that’s a thing?” and then Derek’s temporarily blinded by the beams of three flashlights.

The vice grip on his chest travels up to his throat, invisible hands forcing his head back. He lets out a long, drawn out howl. And then the pressure’s just…gone.

Derek sags down onto the floor, heaving panting breaths, whole body wracked with spasms, and then buries his head in Stiles’ lap when he drops down in front of him.

“Hey, big guy, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Derek says, and then Stiles says, “Holy shit, you can talk!”

*

Officially, Scott and Stiles started off as supernatural debunkers. Shithead eighteen year olds with a couple gopros, a book of magic lore they’d ‘borrowed’ from Scott’s veterinarian ex-boss, and a YouTube channel.  They guilted Scott’s dad into buying them a used van, downloaded a map of haunted places, and set off across the country for a gap year that stretched well past what their parents think is acceptable.

And then Scott got bit by a werewolf off highway 95, they accidentally set Kira free from an Arizona desert prison, and Lydia Martin, Stiles’ high intensity high school crush, aka the smartest and most beautiful woman in puppet land, called him up out of nowhere at 3 am one random Tuesday and nearly blew out his eardrums with a banshee scream and a death omen.

Stiles has business cards introducing himself as a mage, which started off as a token human joke and then got a whole lot real when he figured out how to make himself invisible by sheer wishing and willfulness.

Scott’s veterinarian ex-boss calls him a spark, but Stiles doesn’t feel like spending the money for a reprint.

They no longer film themselves.  It’s all a little too damning.

And two months ago they acquired their very own Scooby to round out the mystery gang, never mind that it was a werewolf seemingly very happily stuck in a full shift—so of course, why not, why not have him talk.

“It’s like some storybook Gmork shit, you shouldn’t have the vocal chords for this,” Stiles says, absolutely fascinated as Wolf says, wearily, “Shut up, Stiles.”

“Could you always talk?” Stiles says.

Wolf gets to his feet and licks his chops. His mouth works open and closed, it’s so fucking weird, and then he says, hoarse, “No.”

*

Derek doesn’t know what’s happening, but he knows it’s probably bad.

His throat feels raw and overworked, like something has rebuilt his insides.  He fights down a rising panic, and then a vision in white, a woman that flickers between being viciously scarred and serenely pretty, appears in the middle of the stairs and smiles at him.

He can hear her heartbeat. It’s louder than anyone else’s in the room.

“There,” she says. “Isn’t that better?”

*

It’s probably really fucking strange that Stiles only notices that Kira and Scott and Lydia are no longer in the room with them when the scary lady starts talking.

Stiles holds up a hand. Salt works for ghosts, but ash works for creatures, and he’s not sure yet what he’s dealing with here.

She grins wider. “I’m sure we can all be nice,” she says. “After all, I did give poor Derek here back his voice.”

Derek, Stiles thinks. Derek Hale, the kid everyone thought actually set the Hale fire all those years ago. Huh.

Derek growls. “It was never missing,” he says. His mouth moves when he talks, and there’s a strange disconnect, like Stiles is watching something break and reform with every impossible word.  Wolves’ mouths aren’t shaped for speaking.

“Oh, of course,” she says, face light. “But when you refuse to shift,” she shrugs, “we work with what we have.”

The bigger question, Stiles thinks, is why this crazy lady wants Derek to talk.

“Now, we can all sit down for a nice long chat later,” she says, and her eyeballs get full-on zombie white. “I need to find your meddling friends first.”

Stiles has a brief moment of relief that Scott and Kira and Lydia are purposely missing, hopefully working on a solution to this mess, and then everything goes black.

*

It’s cold, and Derek curls around Stiles, wriggling his head into Stiles’ chest so he’s nested up against him.  Stiles’ warm breath and plodding heartbeat are reassuring.

They’re in the basement, thin planks of wood underneath them, loose boards to cover the dirt—it’s like laying on a block of ice.

The still air is dank, and Derek buries his head against rising whispers. Thin, reedy howls. Cries of anguish, pain, revenge.

She’s got an army of wolves in the house. They’re buried underneath the floorboards.

Stiles groans and shifts against him—his arms tighten around Derek’s neck and then release as he gingerly pushes up onto his elbows.  “What happened?” he asks. “Where are we?”

“The basement,” Derek says.

“Crap. That’s never going to stop being weird.” Stiles pokes at Derek’s mouth and Derek snaps his teeth at him.

“Stop it.”

“Okay.” Stiles cradles his head in his hands. “Okay, so what’s the plan, big guy? Wait it out? Hope Scott smokes the lady and rescues us?”

Derek snorts.

Stiles stifles a laugh, says, “Right. Right.” He leans heavily against Derek. “Do we have any idea what’s going on here?”

The chill is tense and thick, like the wolves are standing guard.

Years ago, Derek remembers, certain packs had disappeared.  Wiped entirely off the map, leaving gaping holes in the northern California territory.  His mom had been nervous about it. He doesn’t think this mass grave is a coincidence.

Derek sniffs the air and says, “Maybe.”

*

“Wolves,” Derek says, after pacing the length of the basement restlessly.

Stiles narrows his eyes and says, “What?”

Derek pads up to him, drops down close, so they’re touching again. “The ghosts are all werewolves,” he says, clearly irritated.

“Huh,” Stiles says. “So that’s what Lydia meant.”  He props his back up against the cold concrete wall, rolls his shoulders against the rough texture and resists running his hand over the ache at the back of his head.  

Derek is a soothing wall of furry warmth next to him. Stiles curls his cold fingers into a fist to keep from petting him. He wouldn’t have hesitated before, but it’s a little weird now that he can talk.

“Ghost wolves, ghost lady—”

“She’s not a ghost,” Derek says. “I don’t know what she is, but she’s not dead.”

Probably magical then, Stiles thinks. In charge of ghost wolves and strong enough to take down Derek—Stiles has witnessed Wolf tear a chupacabra to shreds—“So… we’re thinking… witch?”

“The word you’re searching for is Darach, darling,” the woman in question says, feet soundless on the basement steps. “We’re a bit more specialized.”  She pauses at the bottom, one hand on her hip, the other skimming lightly over the rickety-looking rail.  “Now, Derek, tragically, I see you’re an alpha of none.” Her eyes are shrewd.  “There seems to be a lot of that going around.”

Wisps of cool smoke swirl around her legs, coalescing here and there in snaps of teeth, furred snouts and paws with big-ass claws.

“Unfortunately, I can’t use you as bait.” She pouts, a parody of disappointment. “Despite quite a lot of nasty rumors, it seems you didn’t actually kill your entire pack.”

Derek snarls.

Stiles says, warily, “What are you talking about?”

The woman flickers, like a TV with a loose cable, and then her glamor drops to reveal a gray face full of scars, her head and neck slashed—her grin shows off blackened gums, and she says, “I’m talking about revenge.”

*

Derek shrinks away from the Darach when she leans toward him. He feels Stiles grip the fur on his back, an anchor, and forces his eyes wide when she crouches in front of them.

She says, “Tell me everything you know about Deucalion.”

Derek bares his teeth. “I don’t know anything.”

Stiles gives out a pained cry as she shoots an arm out, blindly squeezing a hand around his throat. Derek’s ears flatten against his skull, listening to the dry rasp of Stiles failing to drag in a breath.

“Talia was a close friend,” she says, impassive. “Your mother was there when the hunters took his eyes.”

Derek had been fourteen and oblivious to almost everything except his first girlfriend.  “I don’t know,” he says.

Stiles is choking to death, and the Darach isn’t even looking at him.

“Hmmmm,” she says, and then abruptly releases Stiles—he slumps over Derek, coughing—“Kali?”

Kali, Kali, Derek scrambles for anything, any bit of information he remembers, and blurts out, “She gave me condoms.  Once.”

The Darach’s laugh is mean-edged, but breathless. “Julia gave you condoms,” she says, and then drags both hands over her eyes, her mouth; there’s a slump to her shoulders that has Derek freezing in place.

Stiles says, “Derek,” a croak in his voice, and Derek whimpers a warning for him to stay quiet.

“I could make you a man again,” she says, voice muffled.  She drops her hands and her glamor is suddenly back in place, brown, wavy hair framing a pale, delicate face. “Would you like that, Derek Hale?” Her fingers lightly play over the fur on Derek’s brow. “To be a real boy?”

“Leave him alone,” Stiles slurs.

She ignores him and says, “I bet you grew up fine.”

Derek doesn’t know how he grew up. Sometimes he doesn’t think he grew up at all.  How many years has it been? Six? Ten? Twelve? Everything up to Stiles, and Scott, is pale gray and faded, like old newspaper ink.

“Don’t listen to her, Derek,” Stiles says, as the Darach clucks her tongue, eases fingers over Derek’s right ear.

“I wonder whose fault it really is,” she says idly, “that Argent burned your whole family alive.”

Derek pushes down the hurt and guilt, lets the wolf snap forward and snarl. He whips his head up, catches the thin skin of the Darach’s wrist between his teeth and shakes.

She laughs as he bites down, and pets his head with her other hand.

“Derek,” Stiles says, and Derek bristles, hunches down, coiled in anger with blood in his mouth.

“Derek,” Stiles says again louder, a hint of horror in his tone, and Derek shrugs off his grip, locks his jaws, feels the bones in his mouth crunch and splinter.

And then the Darach says, voice steady, “Good boy,” and Derek—he lets her go with a whimper and a gasp.

Good puppy, Kate would say. Good boy.

The Darach gets to her feet with a cloak of anger wrapped around her, finally turning to narrow her eyes at Stiles.  And then:

The door at the top of the steps slams open; Derek’s ears ring from the echo of Lydia’s scream. All the lights burn bright in a sizzle of sparks, and then Scott is slicing through the pack of ghost wolves with an iron fire poker as Kira summersaults through the air to slice off the Darach’s head with her sword.

Stiles says, weakly, “10/10 form there, Yukimura. Would recommend,” before passing out.

*

Stiles wakes to soft slaps on his face and a concerned Scott hovering over him.  He winces at the overhead lights and pushes away Derek’s insistently nudging head.

“I’m up, I’m up,” he says, struggling into a sitting position.

“We need to get out of here,” Scott says. “Can you walk?”

“Sure,” Stiles says. He’s pretty sure he can.  Whatever whammy the Darach put on him made his limbs loose and his head rattle, and his throat feels tight and hot—his bruises are going to be spectacular—but he’ll crawl out of there if he has to. Stiles has faced down demons and spectral dragons, but that lady was the worst.

They’re in a salt circle. They’re practically in a salt field, considering the amount they’ve dumped all around them, but Kira is busy prying up floorboards with Derek’s help, so Stiles figures their reasoning is two-fold. “We’re burning the house down,” he says, not really a question.

Scott grins at him, strained at the edges. “We’re burning the house down.”

“What are the odds of us not getting arrested for this?” Stiles asks.

Lydia looks up from where she’s painting containment sigils all over the Darach’s headless body with her lipstick. “Faulty wiring,” she says. “I’ll call Jackson tonight.”

Outside the salt, the ghost wolves are milling, howls rising like echoes in a cavern. Scott leverages Stiles to his feet, and Stiles throws an arm over his shoulder to steady himself.

“We need to get out of here,” Lydia says. “Now.” She caps her lipstick, stuffs it into her purse, then hefts the iron poker Scott had brandished earlier.

Kira tosses the now-empty sack of salt into the corner of the room.  She flicks out a lighter and looks over at them. “Want a head start?”

Scott lurches forward under Stiles’ weight.  Lydia is already halfway up the stairs, slicing through wolves with the poker, and Scott and Stiles follow right behind, Derek at their heels.  He pushes steadily on the back of Stiles’ legs, urging him to go faster.

The fire has already spread to the kitchen by the time they all make it outside.

*

Dawn is creeping over the tops of the trees and flames are licking out of the second story windows when Lydia finally calls 911.

The smell of smoke makes Derek’s eyes burn and belly cramp, and he worms his way under the van to hide.

He watches Stiles’ beat up sneakers slowly walk toward him before he collapses on the ground by the back tire.

After a long pause of silence, the crack and roar of the fire and the distant echo of sirens the only sound, Stiles says, “She was wrong, you know.”  Stiles’ long-fingered hand is pressed flat on the stone next to him, and Derek shuffle-crawls close enough to nudge his nose into his pinky.

He whines.

“I know you don’t believe me,” Stiles says, “but she’s wrong.”

“You don’t even know what happened,” Derek says.

“Well, big guy,” Stiles says, lifting his hand to scratch behind Derek’s ears, “I know who the black sheep of the Argent clan are. And I know you always have my back. I’m pretty confident in my assumption here.”  He scratches a little harder, and Derek tilts his head into his hand. “If you ever wanna give me the rundown sometime, though, I’m all ears.”

*

Derek is quiet through the full moon, and Stiles doesn’t know if that’s because whatever the Darach did to him wore off, or if he just doesn’t have anything to say.

They spend the long night in a motel just outside a preserve, and their resident werewolves scuffle like puppies in the woods. Stiles thinks Scott’s a little disappointed he can’t shift past beta, but he doesn’t seem to let that stop him from joyously running off with Derek every full moon anyhow.

Stiles sleeps in fits and starts, ears straining toward the playful yips and howls—he’s worried, for probably the first time, how Derek is actually doing.

Wolf was such a separate being, a tag-along, a warm body to curl up with. Derek watched his family burn, and then hid for years in the ruins. Stiles isn’t exactly a sensitive soul, but he tends to latch onto people he cares about and never let go. Somehow, Derek has managed to weasel his way into his heart.

At little before dawn, Stiles’ door gets bumped open, and Derek pounces through with a goodbye wave from Scott—Stiles watches sleepily. Derek has his tongue out, panting, and his tail and furry butt wag as he prances toward the bed.

Stiles yawns around, “Have a good time?”

The mattress shakes as Derek jumps up and spins in a circle, letting out a humph as he drops down in the bend of Stiles’ knees.

*

Derek stares down at his hands, bigger than he remembers. Hairier. The muscles in his legs feel strange. He wiggles his narrow feet against the rough carpet, fascinated with the knobs of his ankles. The sheer difference in the width of his chest has him purposely heaving breaths, rolling his shoulders. He remembers lean arms and peach fuzz—he palms the side of his face and thinks he probably needs to shave.

Behind him, Stiles stretches awake. He says, “Der—“ and cuts off with a yelp, a, “Holy fuck,” and a muffled thump as he rolls off the other side of the bed.

Derek grins into the mirror propped over the dresser across the room. His cheeks puff out and his ears flush.

“Derek?”

Derek turns to look over his shoulder at Stiles, huddled in all the sheets pulled off the bed, hair sticking up every which way, eyes impossibly wide as he clutches the side of the mattress.

“Derek?” Stiles says again.

Derek says, “Hey.”

*

Stiles can’t stop looking at Derek.  Scott’s shirt fits him pretty good, but Stiles’ pants are tight across his thighs—Stiles watches Derek’s hands curl and uncurl against the fabric.

“Dude,” Scott says, flicking him a glance through the rearview mirror. “Stop making it weird.”

“I can’t help it!” The whole situation is already weird; this is not Stiles’ fault.

Because Derek Hale is hot.  Derek Hale is surface-of-the-sun hot, but Derek Hale is also quiet, slightly awkward in his skin, and keeps making aborted movements toward Stiles, like he wants to rub up against him. Stiles tends to freeze when that happens, buzzing with nerves and anticipation, causing Derek to soundlessly back off, even though that’s the exact opposite of what Stiles actually wants him to do. He can’t quite bring himself to say that out loud.

Lydia had been all narrow eyes and questions that morning over breakfast, but now she’s adopted a bored-with-it air, riding shotgun, bare feet curled up on the dash, concentrating on making sure the government knows Derek is still alive.

Kira had been trapped underground for three hundred years before they found her. She’d shaken Derek’s hand with a sunny smile and offered him half of her share of bacon. Currently, she’s calling up possible clients in the way-back seat with her regular cheerful zeal.

Stiles’ hands desperately want to pet Derek, rub over an arm, slide fingers through the hair at his nape, but his mind keeps flashing warning signs to back off. Derek is not a dog.

It’s like Stiles’ brain and body aren’t syncing up, and the strain of holding back is exhausting. Finally, in the heat of the late afternoon, Stiles can’t take it anymore. He slumps into his seat, presses his shoulder against Derek’s, carelessly knocking their knees together. The rocking of the van over the stretch of route 66 lulls him into a waking coma, he blinks against flashing trees and long dashes of beige. He doesn’t even fully register it when Derek worms his hand into his and holds on.

*

When they’re working, Derek still prefers to stay a wolf.  

He tells Stiles it’s because his senses are keener, when really he feels like he’s layered in armor—he has sharp teeth and big claws and the only creatures that don’t seem impressed by that are the family of opossums they find in the attic of a house in Nevada.

He tells himself it isn’t because when he’s a wolf, Stiles finally relaxes around him again.

Whatever the Darach did to his canine throat had disappeared with his first shift. At first, Stiles had seemed disappointed, but then it was business as usual—salt and burn the ghosts, exorcise the demons, keep out of the way of anything fae, call an exterminator for the snakes and raccoons.

“Bats,” Stiles says, wrapping his arms around his chest and shoving hands up into his armpits. He has a sluggishly bleeding scrape on his forehead and a sour expression.  “I hate bats.”

Derek woofs and licks his forearm.

“Come on,” Scott says. He slaps Stiles on the back as he hops down the front stoop. “Let’s get something to eat. And then we can go home.”

Stiles’ face lights up at the word, and something hot squeezes around Derek’s heart.

*

Their last job bought them close enough to Beacon Hills to justify a detour home, one they try to manage at least once every couple months.  The last time was when they were on their way to the Hale job, just outside Beacon County.

Stiles is irrationally disappointed when Derek refuses to shake off his fur to meet his dad.  

He understands it, is the thing. He totally gets why Derek tries to hide behind his legs when his dad pulls him into a hug at the front door.

He gets why he lies under the kitchen table during dinner, and then flops down across his feet in his tiny twin bed.

Stiles says, “I’m not going to be able to feel my feet in the morning,” and Derek just grunts, squirms over onto his back to really dig into Stiles’ ankles, legs playfully kicking at the air.

His dad knocks on the half open door, eyes them both, and says, “I somehow expected this to be less weird.”

Derek rolls up onto his haunches, ears alert, half the covers pulled down around his paws.

Dad points at them and says, “Let’s all try to be human for breakfast, okay?” and then wanders off down the hall, muttering to himself about dang werewolves.

Derek huffs and hides under the blanket, and won’t budge no matter how hard Stiles kicks him in the head.

Somehow, it’s always been easier to sleep on the road than at home—curled up in the van, sharing dumpy motel rooms. He has too much energy, most nights, to have any sort of restful sleep if he’s not bone-deep exhausted from the day.  

He stares at the ceiling of his old bedroom, pinned down by Derek’s weight. He doesn’t think Derek’s sleeping either.

He says, “It’s only for a couple days,” into the darkness, and isn’t all that surprised when Derek doesn’t make a sound in answer.

When he finally drifts off, eyelids falling heavy against the moon shadows lengthening across his ceiling, Stiles dreams of the Hale house.

Of the burned-out husk, the ash-gray of the front veranda, the moldering charred remains of a house that was, miraculously, mostly still standing. The fire had been localized in the back of the house, like a bomb went off where the kitchen used to be. The door leading to the basement hanging off its hinges. Lydia wouldn’t go near it.

He dreams of red eyes, like a crouching demon in the dark.

He dreams of howls, thin and plaintive, round and angry, and when he wakes up, panting, the ghost of hot breaths and sharp fangs against his skin, fingers clenched in his messy sheets, Derek is gone.

*

The call is familiar, like an old ache, and Derek shoves open Stiles’ window and slips outside. He hops to the ground and leaps back into the wolf, digging his back claws into the soft dirt, scraping long grooves into the grass.  He scales the fence with a brush of his underbelly against rough slats, and then he pauses, ears up.

The howl is long, mournful, and faint, and Derek knows it’s traveling over miles.

He glances back at the house once, dark and quiet, and then sets off through the woods, hope and wonder lengthening his strides.

*

They wait a week; three days longer than they’d planned to stay. Even Lydia is getting restless, and finally Stiles folds and they pack up the van: extra food from Melissa, two more books from Deaton—given freely, this time, along with a small supply of animal tranqs—and brand new socks and underwear for all. It’s like they’re on tour, except instead of being in a band, they save the world from supernatural creatures and possible rabies.

Scott gives Stiles not-very-encouraging smiles, and by the time Beacon Hills is fading from their rearview mirror, Stiles has a halfway formed plan in his head that involves a very small detour to the Hale house that’ll only put them another day behind.

“No,” Lydia says.

“What’s another day, we’re already late!” Stiles says. “What if something’s wrong?”

“We got rid of everything that was wrong there,” Lydia says, one eyebrow arched pointedly. “I told the DeMattos we’d be there the day after tomorrow.”

Scott stays silent, mouth pressed closed, and Kira is shooting everyone indecisive puppy-eyes.

Finally, Scott sighs and says, “Look. Look, Stiles, I know how you feel, man, but Derek knows how to find us, okay? He’s got a phone and everything now.”

“He left his phone when he ran away from my house naked,” Stiles says. Naked, wolf, same thing. He left his duffle with every single piece of his clothing in it; Stiles very shamelessly rifled through it before tossing it in the back of the van. He sinks down low in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest, biting his lip. “What if something’s wrong,” he says again.

“He’s a grown wolf,” Lydia says primly. Then she leans over and squeezes Stiles’ leg. “He’s going to be fine. And if we haven’t heard from him by the time we finish with the DeMattos, we can come back and check.”

*

The house has a very distinctive smell: a mixture of mold, ash and despair. Derek didn’t realize how used to it he’d become over the years. Now, it makes his nose twitch and burn, the fur on his back prickle with unease.

There’s a woman sitting on the porch steps, dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Derek pauses just outside the tree line, crouching in weeds and wildflowers, watching.

Her head jerks up, eye’s narrowing in prickly rage, a flash of gold, and then a split-second later they round with disbelief.  “Derek?” she says.

Derek slinks forward, belly low to the ground.

Cora—this is Cora, all sharp cheekbones and thin wrists—slowly stands up, arms falling limply to her sides.  The last time Derek saw Cora she’d just turned eleven, baby pudge still soft on her face, and Derek thought she’d died in the fire. Derek doesn’t know what to make of her now.

She says, voice hoarse, “I heard they were going to knock it down.”

Derek wants to say: they tried.

He wants to say: Stiles wouldn’t let them and I’m sorry.

Instead, he huddles at Cora’s feet and pushes his head into her hand.

“What the fuck, Derek,” Cora says, and then drops to her knees, wraps her arms around his neck, and buries her face in his fur.  “I thought you were dead, asshole.”

Derek whimpers and licks at her wet cheek.

*

The DeMattos have an amusement park problem. Various eye-witnesses describe a slimy swamp-like monster that rises out of the pond around the Tunnel O’ Love, but Stiles’ money is on a bunch of stoned kids fucking with them.

“This is classic Scooby Doo shenanigans,” Stiles says, waving his flashlight around. “All we need is the Harlem Globetrotters and Don Knotts to show up.”

It’s weird, he feels strangely vulnerable without Derek’s furry presence at his side, despite having done this for years before they found him.

Normally, this kind of job would be awesome—spooky abandoned amusement park, chockfull of expired corn dogs, paint-peeled clown statues that hilariously freak out Scott, and the rickety spires of roller coasters that have an eighty percent chance of actually killing someone. The greater worry here is the risk of getting lockjaw, not getting eaten by a swamp monster.

There’s no such thing as a swamp monster anyway.

Stiles kicks at some gravel and tries not to pout.

He keeps checking his phone, like Derek’ll call him even though his phone is still buried at the bottom of his bag in the back of the van.

Kira says, “Okay, but do you think they’re hiding a weed crop or a meth lab?” as the two of them examine the control panel for the Tunnel O’ Love. She wiggles her fingers and the lights flicker and burn, a loop of plinky carnival music starts up, and half-sunk swan boats clunk into each other at the dock.

“Why would anyone want to reopen this fun house of horrors?” Stiles says. “They should just leave it to the local swamp monsters.  Wanna set something on fire?”

“That’s arson, Stiles,” Kira says, but she looks intrigued.

They’re gonna get a reputation.

“Scott would be mad,” Stiles says.

They stare at each other.

“Lydia would be furious,” Kira says.

The loudspeaker across the park suddenly crackles on, echoing demented clown laughter all over the grounds, and in the distance: baying hounds.

Stiles cocks his head. “That’s a weird combination,” he says absently. “That’s weird, right?”

“Stiles,” Kira says, grabbing his arm and shaking him. “Stiles, look.”

While the presence of a hulking, oozing man-shaped mass sloping toward them could be the result of Stiles getting too little sleep in the days since Derek disappeared, it’s kind of tough to argue that when Kira can see it too.

Kira says, “Oh no,” and Stiles takes an unsteady step backward.  Both of their hands are raised, Kira with electricity jumping from finger to finger, Stiles pooling wishes in his palms.  

And then the dock makes an ominous crack and Stiles goes flailing into the murky Tunnel O’ Love pond.

“Oh, gross,” he says, coughing and swiping suspiciously slimy water off his face.  He can’t see anything beyond the broken planks overhead, but he hears Kira yell, “Fuck you, motherfucker!” which is, like—he winces to himself, Kira’s cursing usually consists of liberal use of poop with some grandmotherly dang-its thrown in for good measure.

He’s just about pulled himself back up onto dry ground when a familiar fur-face barrels into him and accidentally—hopefully—pushes him back in.

*

Stiles smells like gasoline and sludge and old corn dogs, but it doesn’t make Derek back off.

Cora huffs at him, wrinkles her nose and then retreats a good distance away, where Scott is tying up three teenagers who are high as kites and laughing their asses off.

Stiles wraps himself around Derek and says, “Oh my god, you tried to kill me,” but he has his face planted in Derek’s side, so Derek’s pretty sure he knows it was an accident.

One Cora will never let him live down.

He didn’t expect to miss Stiles this much, especially after finding Cora. But there’s a weird tentativeness between him and Cora that didn’t exist ten years ago, and he has no idea how to make it go away—or if it ever will.

They’ve spent their nights curled up together as wolves, but traveling miles apart during the day, keeping track of each other by howls.

Stiles hugs him tight and says, “Hey, Wolf, hey,” and murmurs, “Missed you,” and the bright flush of embarrassment and pleasure make him warm all over.

When they finally make it over to the others, Lydia has her phone out and Scott gives Kira a high five, and then everyone stares at Cora—she has her head held high, ears pricked, and only Derek and maybe Scott can tell it’s more from apprehension than disdain.

Stiles says, “Who the heck is that beauty,” with an exaggerated wink at Cora and Cora snaps her teeth at him.  He holds up his hands and says, “Alright, Lady Wolf, cool your heels and watch your fangs.”

Cora growls, low in her throat.

Stiles says, “I’ve dealt with Grumpy for over two months, I can handle a little Surly,” with the hint of a waver in his voice that makes Derek maneuver himself fully in front of him and stare Cora down.

Cora as a wolf is lean, red and rangy, taller at the haunches than Derek, faster, if push came to shove, but without his muscle bulk and his terrible stubborn willingness to protect Stiles at all cost.

Cora dips her head, though, pads forward to rub her cheek along his.

“Aww, isn’t that adorable?” Stiles says. “Hey, Scotty, how come you can’t go all full wolf?”

Cora silently bares her teeth at him and then transforms into human shape with a fluidity Derek envies, a smirk firmly affixed on her face.  “Because he wasn’t born one.”

*

“So that’s your sister,” Stiles says, cupping his hands around a warm mug of coffee.  He won’t admit to being briefly jealous of Derek’s new lady friend, but he thinks maybe Derek knows about that anyhow.  “Also, I mean, there’s no tactful way to say this, but… I thought she was dead?”

Derek shrugs, picking apart his muffin with his fingers. “You thought I was dead, too.”

True, true, Stiles nods, pretty much all of the Hales were presumed dead, given that no one knew they could turn into large hairy wolves. “You, though,” he grimaces, “the famed Demon Wolf of the woods—we know where you were hanging all those years.  Where’s she been?”

Derek’s muffin is massacred on his napkin, Stiles is pretty sure none of it ever made it to his mouth.

Derek says, “I don’t know,” shoulders hunched in to make him look smaller.

It should be ridiculous, Derek’s muscles have muscles, but it just makes Stiles want to press his palms into the back of Derek’s neck and let him hide his face against Stiles’ chest. Stiles keeps his hands to himself, though, because Stiles is a gentleman, and Derek only seems to invite pets when he’s got four paws and a tail.

Stiles could sing songs about his spring green eyes and the way they change color in the sun, but he does not.

He could write poetry about the careful fold of his shirt cuffs over his forearms.

He shifts in his seat, lets go of his coffee cup to tap his fingers on the table. He bounces his leg and feels weird about the way the gang is three tables away, giving them some semblance of privacy—that Stiles is staunchly pretending he doesn’t know why they need, ignoring Kira’s exaggerated winks—and he can only thank mother moon that Cora is back at the motel getting a shower, because he’s pretty sure she’d be able to feel his emotions spilling all over the place.

Someone needs to put him out of his misery here.

Derek’s chest expands on a big breath.  He says, “She wants me to go back with her.”

Stiles freezes. “You don’t even know where she’s been all these years, but you’re going to leave for parts unknown with her?” He shoves a hand through his hair. “What, did you come find us just to say goodbye? Jesus Christ, Derek.”

Derek’s eyebrows slant down, mouth frowning. “She’s my sister.”

“Yeah? A sister who abandoned you—”

“She was eleven,” Derek says, voice rising.

“And it’s been over a decade, Derek, she didn’t stay eleven, did she?” Stiles pushes back his chair, it makes a screeching noise that echoes around the small cafe—Scott glances over, alarmed, but Stiles holds a hand out to stop him from coming over.  He takes a deep breath.  “Look,” he says finally, “I get it, okay? We’re just—“ he flops a hand between them, trying hard not to let on that his heart is breaking, what the fuck, “—you do what you gotta do.  I guess maybe I’ll see you around. Sometime.”

Scott is giving him big, worried eyes when he moves past their table, but Stiles just shakes his head, he doesn’t want anyone following him right now.

It’s ridiculous and it’s total crap, and he’s a big boy. He can handle this.

Fuck.

*

Cora finds Derek sitting on top of a picnic table around the side of the motel.  It’s almost sunset.  He can hear the van idling in the parking lot as the gang packs up their things.

They have a job on the east coast. They need to start moving soon.

Cora hops up on the worn wood next to him and bumps their shoulders.  She prefers to be human, she’s told him, and she seems a lot more comfortable around him than when she’s a wolf. When her instincts take over.  He’s not sure what that says about them—he doesn’t think it’s anything good.

“You ready to go?” she says.

Derek shoots her a glance, but she’s not looking at him.  She has her hands on her knees and her face to the sky.

The sun is low and golden. There are darkening clouds to the east, a storm rolling in. The wind picks up and ruffles the ends of his too-long hair.

Cora’s hair is a mess to her shoulders, framing a solemn mouth and rueful eyes.  She plucks at his shirt, a playful tug on his sleeve, and suddenly: she’s ten and needling him for the last of his pancakes. Nine and using her doe eyes to borrow his precious comics. Seven and hiding with him in the attic after using up all of Laura’s lipstick.

He’s ready, he thinks, and opens his mouth and says, “No.”

*

It doesn’t take very long to pack up, but Stiles drags his feet. He dumps his bag out on the bed and methodically separates his clothes into clean, relatively clean, and dirty piles.  He wipes down his deodorant, trashes his last toothbrush, throws out the boxers he was wearing when he fell into the amusement park pond.

Derek’s duffle is zipped up and sitting on the floor by the door, mocking him.

Scott peeks around the doorjamb and says, “We need to get at least six hours of driving in today, dude,” with an apologetic frown.

Stiles sighs. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he says, and then sweeps up all his piles together and stuffs them haphazardly in his bag.

He leaves the door open, for Derek, and then shoves his bag in the back of the van, under the seats.

Kira’s already in shotgun and Lydia’s got the wheel.  She’s far too classy to make impatient noises, but she glares at him and his sloth-like speed as he hefts himself through the side door.

It’s just… he’d been hoping to say goodbye to Derek again. He hates that he made it weird.

And then Scott says, “Whoa, hey,” and a massive black wolf pushes past him to scramble in the van—he sits on his haunches directly behind Lydia and gives Stiles and Scott an innocent well, what are you waiting for look, and it’s—

Stiles doesn’t bother trying to stop the wide grin he can feel blooming across his face.

“There better be room for me,” Cora says from behind them.

Stiles whips around to see her lugging Derek’s bag with a resigned expression.  She says, “I’ll need to stop for clothes,” knocking Scott to the side.

“No, really, what’s going on?” Stiles says before he can stop himself.

Derek huffs.

Cora wrinkles her nose and says, “Derek thinks McCall here is his alpha.”

“Can alphas have alphas?” Stiles says. “Is that a thing? Wait, you know what, I don’t actually care.” He thumps his butt down next to Derek and feels his warmth all along his side.

Scott pulls the door shut behind himself before joining Cora in the way-back.

Lydia says, “Seatbelts, please,” like none of this is odd, and then they’re off.

*

They play musical chairs at the next rest stop, and Derek ends up next to Cora in the third row of seats.

It’s full dark, and he stares at the moon outside the window, feels Cora sigh and shift and pointedly not say anything.

Derek waits her out.

Finally, she says, soft, “Satomi took me in.”

Derek tenses, watches Cora’s reflection in the window.

“I was in the attic,” she went on. “Dad tossed me out the dormer before going down to help everyone else. He took Teddy, because he wouldn’t have survived the fall.”

Derek’s chest is tight, and his eyes burn.

She says, “You were napping in your room,” a hitch in her breath. “I remember. I remember you snapped at us to leave you alone, and then I never saw you again.”

Derek blindly gropes for her hand and squeezes.

“I went to Dad’s family, in South America. The pack Cousin James married into.” Derek can feel her shrug, stiff and forced. “And then you know the rest.”

They’re quiet again for a while.  Stiles is in front of them, head tipped back and snoring.

After a few long moments he slips his sweaty hand out of hers and says, “Thanks.”

She arches an eyebrow at him.

“For coming with me,” he clarifies. He gives an aborted wave toward Stiles and she snorts.

She snorts and then covers her mouth with the back of her hand, failing to hide a smile, and says, “Good luck with that. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Derek has no idea what he’s doing, but he thinks that’s okay.

*

“You don’t really think Scott’s your alpha, do you?” Stiles says, curled up on a bed in the cheapest motel they could find outside of Tucson, watching through the mottled window as the sun creeps up over the horizon.

“You’re fishing,” Derek says, voice sleep-rough.

Stiles rolls over to look at him. At some point in the middle of the night, Derek had slipped from wolf to man.  He’s got his head pillowed on a massive bicep, the sheet tucked just over his hip, and Stiles tries to keep his eyes firmly on Derek’s face.  It’s not a hardship. Derek has pillow creases on his cheek, enough dark scruff to be officially dubbed a beard, and a soft smile on his lips.

“Answer the question, Wolf,” Stiles says, poking the divot in Derek’s chin with a finger.

“Yes, Stiles, I really think Scott is my alpha,” he says, but he curls his hand around Stiles’ and slowly drags it down his throat—Stiles fans his fingers out and swallows dry.

“Okay,” Stiles says, nodding slowly. “Okay, but you’re an alpha too, so how does that—”

Derek’s other hand fists in the front of his t-shirt and Stiles flails a little with a squawk of surprise, and then Derek’s mouth is opening up under his and—okay.  Okay.

Stiles shakes his hands out of Derek’s grip and threads his fingers into Derek’s hair, pressing up against him with a groan. This is all good, right?  This is like—Stiles has no idea what’s happening, but everything is a-okay with him. There’s the hot slide of Derek’s naked muscles underneath him, basically the only thing holding Stiles back right now is the tangle of sheets around his legs.

And then there’s a pounding on their door and Cora shouting through the thin wood: “Hurry up, Losers!”

Stiles backs off of Derek with wide eyes, leverages up with his palms flat on Derek’s chest. “That was…” He trails off, not sure what to say.

Derek blinks blearily up at him. His soft grin is even softer.  Derek is like a puzzle within a puzzle—his tragic past, his dark years, the way he looks at Stiles, sometimes, like Stiles is some kind of hero, like Stiles could be his whole world.

That’s a lot of pressure to put on a twenty-something dude who fights supernatural baddies for pennies and still gets an allowance from his dad.

Stiles stares at him, and the longer Stiles stays quiet, the more concern creeps into Derek’s eyes.

Stiles straightens up and away, kicking his legs out of the sheets to crisscross in front of him.

Derek shifts on the mattress, a dull flush on his ears, says, “Stiles, you don’t—” just as Stiles says, “I hope you realize this makes us boyfriends.”

He’s not going to have rules, like Derek has to be human with him eighty percent of the day—impossible to expect—or Derek can’t rip out the throats of his enemies to protect him—because that’s badass, even if Stiles can take care of himself.

But they’ve kissed, Derek kissed him, boyfriends is non-negotiable.

One of Derek’s hands curls over his bare knee. “Okay,” he says.

“Right, uh,” Stiles clears his throat, jerks his gaze away from the dip of the sheet at Derek’s groin, the smooth skin of his throat, the curve of his jaw under his ear, “we better get a move on. Before Cora turns the hose on us.”

Derek moves up onto an elbow and cocks his head—Stiles manfully resists inserting a dog joke—and his blush becomes more pronounced, grin sheepish.  “Scott’s, uh, lecturing her on patience and privacy. They’re going to breakfast without us.”

Stiles says, “Oh, good,” and tackles Derek back onto the bed.

Derek laughs into his mouth.  “Slow down,” he says. “We’ve got a while.”

[just-jordie-things]

The List - Lydia Martin

Lydia Martin: Genius Beautiful Popular Sassy Sweet Strawberry Blonde Green Eyes Fair Skin Banshee

You looked over your list, the one in the very back of your History notebook.  Your neat cursive writing in perfect script as you read it.  You’d started this list when you transferred to Beacon Hills High.

It was in the middle of the year, and your hopes on making any friends, were very, very low.  But, Scott and Kira had figured out you were a fire kitsune, and everything went uphill after that.  You met the pack, Stiles, Liam, Malia, Hayden, Mason, Corey, and Lydia.  The moment you saw her, your eyes widened a little, and your lips parted.  She’s given you a sweet smile, introduced herself as Lydia Martin, and held her hand out for you to shake.  Then, it was like you’d all known each other forever.

It’s been a year since you met them, and you still always seem to look at Lydia the same way.  Although you were sure she only saw you as a friend.  You didn’t even think she was into girls.  So you enjoyed shopping trips and sleepovers as much as you could.

“y/n!” Malia hissed, and you jumped in your seat, looking over at her.  “God I said your name like twenty times” You closed your notebook, but not before she caught what it was you were looking at.  “Seriously.  We’re still going on with this crush you have?”

“I’m sorry” You sighed, twiddling your pen in your hands.  “I just can’t get over her”

“Then ask her out, like a normal human being” Malia said simply, with a shrug on her shoulders.

“Are you kidding me?” You said a little loudly, earning a few violent shushes from surrounding students.  You didn’t care, just glad your professor hadn’t noticed.

“What?” Malia asked, brows knit in confusion.  “Why can’t you do that? Like a normal person..?”

“Mal... look, Lydia and I are such good friends, and I really don’t want to mess anything up between the two of us.  Does that make sense?”

“I guess so... but if you like her enough to keep staring at that stupid list... then maybe it’s worth a try?” You bit your lip harshly.  That sounded so right, it made so much sense.  But you weer just too afraid of rejection.

“We’ll see Mal... we’ll see” You said softly.  The topic wasn’t brought up for the rest of class.

Lunch rolled around, and you were eating your sandwich next to Lydia and her salad.  You were discussing after school plans, some studying and maybe a manicure if you get everything done that you need to.  You spent most of the period laughing and just messing around, everyone enjoying the fact that there was no supernatural issues going on.

You didn’t know, but Malia had her eyes on you the entire time.  She watched at the way Lydia’s eyes lit up, and she leaned towards you whenever she giggled at something you said.  She saw how you’d put your hands on each other’s arms every time either of you spoke.  But most of all, she noticed the rapid heartbeats beneath your chests.  She was no cupid, and had very little experience in the field of love, but these surely counted for something.

“Walk with me to French?” Lydia asked you when the bell rang.  You smiled and nodded, slinging on your bag onto your shoulder, and walking off with her.

Again, your hour was spent with quiet giggles and arm touches.  The both of you’d finished your work early.

“So I got these new skinny brushes I wanna try on my nails” Lydia said excitedly, holding her fingernails in front of her face, examining them.  You giggled as you watched her examine them.  “What?”

“Nothing, it’s kinda cute how excited you get to do your nails” You chuckled.  “I just get worked up cause I do it so sloppy-” You stopped yourself when she smiled a small smile.  That was when you realized what you’d just told her.  “I’m sorry, that was probably kinda weird, I didn’t mean it in a weird way” You said quickly.  Lydia laughed, shaking her head at you.

“I don’t mind at all” She said with a dismissive wave of her hand.  You smiled in relief.  And a small amount of hope struck your heart.  “So, did you get dropped off this morning?” You shook your head.

“Rode the bus” 

“So.. I’m hearing that you need a ride to my place?” You grinned.

“That’d be amazing”

When the final bell rang, you and Lydia packed away your French supplies.  “So,” Lydia said as you walked off down the halls.  “We gotta find something good to talk about, I’m done with Star Wars with Stiles, and rules of the wild with Mal” She said, and hooked an arm through yours.

“Alright, somethin’ juicy” You nodded.  “Like what? I’ve got nothing”

“Sure you do, tell me bout your life before Beacon Hills” Lydia suggested as you walked out of the school, and into the parking lot.

“Alright” You shrugged.  “But there’s nothing really interesting” You got in the passengers side of her car, and she got in next to you, turning on the engine.  But as soon as Lydia turned into the row of cars waiting to leave school grounds

“Oh sure there is” Lydia said with a scoff.  “Come on, boyfriends, girlfriends, drama, drugs, sex life? You’re eighteen you have to have some kind of wild story” You pursed your lips, and she finally got out of the traffic line at the school.  She grumbled a few curses of relief.

“Well, I’ve only had one girlfriend.  She only wanted sex, which I wouldn’t give to her seeing we’d barely begun dating” You explained.  “Well rumors spread fast, like any guys or girls would go out with me after that” You rolled your eyes.  But you caught the look that Lydia gave you, one of empathy.  “It’s cool now.  I’ve got you guys” You bumped your fist gently against her shoulder, making her chuckle.

“And drugs?” You laughed loudly.

“I smoked a cigarette once?” Lydia giggled again.  “Coughed enough to spit blood and never touched one again” Lydia nodded, her giggling dying down.  “You ever do any crazy drugs?”

“I’ve been possessed kinda... and I’ve had wolfs bane if that counts?” You rolled your eyes, but smiled a little.

“Well I’m glad”

“You are?”

“Yeah, it’s nice to have friends with good morals” Lydia’s hands tightened a little on the wheel.

“Yeah well you know better than anyone that I haven’t always had the greatest set of priorities” You shrugged, looking at her with another smile.

“But look at you now Lyds” You said happily.  “You’ve come a long way” She put her hand over top of yours, and no more words were exchanged.

When you got to her house, you both got out of the car, and walked in.  You followed her up to her room.  

“So what’re we studying first?” You asked.

“I need to work on a History assignment, and write a conclusion for my English research paper” She said.

“Alright, I can work with that” You said, pulling out both your History and English folders and notebooks.  “I didn’t pay any attention in class today”

“Let me guess, Malia distracted you?” You giggled and nodded.

“Yeah sorta, every time!” Lydia laughed, opening up her laptop, and getting to work.  You sat up on her bed, back against the headboard, and your knees up so that you could put your notebook on your legs as you read over the notes.  Every so often, you’d sneak a glance and peak over to Lydia. 

After an hour and a half, you’d both finished all your work, and were ready for some down time.  Lydia excitedly pulled out her box of nail polish and tools.  

“So I got this maroon colour that I think would look really nice on you, willing to try? She asked with hope, and held up the bottle.

“Lemme see” You leaned off the bed slightly to where she was sitting at her desk, and took it from her hands.  You examined the polish with pursed lips as you thought.  “Yeah it’s cute, I got a dress I could wear that’d look cute with it” You said, handing it back to her.  Lydia bore an excited grin as she shook up the paint.  “Mind if I get a drink of water first?” You asked, and she shrugged.

“Sure, you know where everything is” She said, and you made your way down to the kitchen.  Lydia pulled out cotton balls, and nail polish remover, setting them on the bed to get ready.  She noticed your things still out and open, and being a good friend, decided to organize them in your bag for you.  She picked up your English notebook, putting it in the correct labeled folder, and sliding it into your bag.  Then picked up your history notebook, but sliced her finger, dropping the notebook to the floor.  “Shit” She hissed, looking at the paper cut.  Lydia shook her hand, trying to relieve some of the pain.  Then looked down to get your book.  But her eyes landed on her name as she grabbed it.  Her brows knit together as she read the back page.  You’d made a list of her? She flipped through a few more pages, almost expecting there to be lists of others, but it was just her.  There were a few doodles and hearts, and it surprised her so much that she didn’t notice you walk back into the room.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, making her jump, her green eyes meeting your concerned ones.

“I was just helping you pick up your things-”

“No... you were going through my notebook” You said warily.  Then crossed the room to her.  “Why?”

“I didn’t mean to- I dropped it and..” Lydia trailed off.  “Why’d you write those things about me?” Lydia asked.  Your lips parted, and you wet them with your tongue.

“Morrell said the best way to release pent up things is by writing them down” You answered honestly.  Lydia quirked a brow, looking down at your notebook again.

“And what do you have pent up about me?”

“Pretty sure you’v already read it Ms Martin” You said, a slight amount of confidence in your tone.  Lydia smiled softly.

“You know a better way to release pent up emotion?” You shook your head no, growing nervous as she walked closer to you.  “Facing it” She whispered, standing directly in front of you.  Without her heels on, you had to look down slightly to meet her eyes.

“I don’t know... I don’t want anything messed up” You admitted aloud.  Lydia’s smile grew into a smirk.

“I do” And with that, she was on the tips of her toes, pressing her mouth to yours in a passionate kiss.  Her hands lay on your waist, and when your mind registered what she was doing, you cupped her face in your hands, brushing away loose strands of strawberry blonde.  You parted for a brief moment to catch your breath, then gave her one more sweet, and longing kiss.  “Better?” She whispered breathlessly.

“Much” You replied, and kissed her again, full of want, and adoration.

“Next time, just ask” 

xoxo ~ Jordie

[1989dreamer]

Rec List (my first one!)

Recently, I was asked to rec some stories.

This is by no means an exhaustive list. In fact, I know a lot of my favorites aren’t on here. This is just a starting point. My rec section will contain spoilers for the stories although I did try to remain vague.

Here’s hoping there’s something new in here :)

In no particular order:

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5954161

Title: Fold In Gently

Author: thepsychicclam

Relationship: ends Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, established Cora Hale/Kira Yukimura

Warnings: None

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Derek is going to kill Cora. He’s going to kill her numerous times. One death is not enough punishment for what she’s making him do.

Cora’s making Derek take baking classes.

My Rec: Derek may appear as an asshole at first, but Stiles doesn’t take it to heart so there’s no misunderstandings or hurt over it.

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/2262240/chapters/4967643

Title: A Desperate Arrangement

Author: mikkimouse

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Warnings: Chose not to use

Rating: Explicit

Summary: "I'm sorry, I believe there's something wrong with my hearing," Stiles said. "Because I could have sworn you just told me you set up a betrothal agreement with the Hales. A betrothal agreement involving me. Me."

Scott smiled his easygoing smile and nodded, which told Stiles no, he hadn't misheard a damn thing.

After seven years of lengthy negotiations, the treaty between the Hales and the Argents has fallen apart and the two countries fell into war.

Months later, there's an uneasy truce, thanks to the intervention of King Scott McCall, but it won't last. In a desperate attempt to maintain the peace, the Hales sign a treaty with the McCalls to marry Prince Derek to Prince Stiles Stilinski, King Scott's brother.

In the history of the world, there have been many better ideas.

My Rec: I absolutely love this story because it has a beautiful plot and never feels slow. My favorite chapter is the seventh just for how Stiles interacts with Derek.

 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3334607

Title: An Exercise in Trust

Author: impalagirl & wilddragonflying

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Past Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Allison Argent

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage (Note: both in the past and not explicitly stated)

Rating: Mature

Summary: Derek Hale hasn't been able to hold a steady job for quite some time, thanks to his past. When an ad is posted for a babysitting job, Derek(thanks to his experience with his large extended family) jumps at the chance to maybe start rebuilding his life.

My Rec: I love how the subject matter is treated and respected. This is one of my always rereads.

 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6297130/chapters/14430451

Title: Talk Me Down

Author: SylvieW

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Warnings: None

Rating: Mature

Summary: After the Hale family narrowly escapes the fire, Derek moves to New York to escape their lingering resentment. There, he meets Stiles, and feels an instant connection to him, but their relationship, and Derek’s self worth is tested by the hurdles Derek’s pack throws at them

My Rec: I keep coming back to this one. I’ll admit, I was disappointed in the way it ended because I felt there was too much of a jump between events, but the more I reread it the more I’m glad the author did it this way. (And I will allow this story when I usually avoid bottom!Stiles like the plague.)

 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1766344/chapters/3778642

Title: Sanctuary

Author: darkmagess

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Rating: Mature

Summary: Starts where 3B stops, with Kate attacking Derek in the loft. She kidnaps him to Mexico, and Stiles, Scott, and Lydia rush to find him before Kate can inflict too much damage. She inflicts enough, and Derek retreats into his mind to escape the horrors of his situation. The Derek they find is not the one that left Beacon Hills.

My Rec: This was one of the first stories that I read for this fandom that I recall. I added it to my bookmarks immediately (on my computer, not my AO3). This is one of my favorite ones to reread, especially the early chapters with Derek at the Sheriff’s house. Bonus: it’s part of a series.

 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4501536

Title: flawless

Author: bibliosexual

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes

Warnings: None

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: “I know you and I are, like, werewolf-married, but dude, if I ever met Lydia Martin in person . . . All bets are off, is all I'm saying."

It's not like Stiles really means it (does he?), but it still makes Derek’s hands clench into claws on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, if," he says, and keeps his eyes on the road.

My Rec: Every once in a while I’ll get into a funk where I need to read emotional hurt and this is one of my favorites. Insecure Derek coupled with Joking Stiles makes for a miscommunication of manageable proportions.

 Link: ��http://archiveofourown.org/works/2525144

Title: Down on My Knees

Author: Vendelin

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Warnings: None

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Stiles gets addicted to a new computer game, and Derek just wants their relationship back.

Written for the prompt: "new iphone game/video game/tv show ruining sterek's sex life"

My Rec: Emotional hurt galore. I like both characters here but obviously, Derek is my favorite. I think the relationship is portrayed well with deference to the prompt.

 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/810419

Title: Uncover the Endless Hours

Author: BarlowGirl

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, past Isaac Lahey/Stiles Stilinski, background Scott McCall/Allison Argent

Warnings: No warnings

Rating: Mature

Summary: “Can I buy you breakfast?” Derek blurted, then cringed. Where exactly had that come from? He couldn’t actually remember the last time he'd asked somebody out. Not that he was asking Stiles out. Just for breakfast. And - he was pathetic.

Stiles blinked, honey-whiskey-golden eyes huge in the dim light. “What?”

“I woke up you up at two in the morning,” Derek said, more slowly. “I – you know, food?”

“Oh.” Stiles shook his head. “I have to get up at five and I stayed up stupid late as it is. I’m gonna be a mess tomorrow already and–”

“Nobody gives a fuck, Romeo,” somebody shouted from outside and Stiles jerked so hard he cracked his head on Derek’s windowsill.

Or: The one where Stiles is a cop and Derek doesn't sleep.

My Rec: This is why I want to write “You’ve Got Your Headphones On” because the stalked!Derek in this story is fantastic. Although, in the story I want to write, Stiles is a stalker too (not a bad guy or even really bad at all). When I have enough time, I am definitely going to reread more than just the first couple thousand words (again).

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/2778593

Title: With Delayed Expression

Author: Idday

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con

Rating: Mature

Summary: "I have… well… she said that she thinks that I maybe have… PTSD?”

The line goes so dead that Derek almost thinks Stiles hung up on him. He waits eight very quiet seconds, and says softly, “Stiles?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Stiles says, breath whooshing back over the phone line.

“I have PTSD,” Derek says more firmly. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, not as a question. It hasn’t really seemed real, until now. He’d spent the whole of his last session arguing that Tamara was wrong about him, and saying it out loud is like admitting it’s true. “Post-traumatic stress dis—”

“I know what it means,” Stiles interrupts, “I just didn’t think I’d heard right. Oh my God.”

My Rec: Absolutely breathtaking with how the author has presented the material and the respect given to the subject matter. Derek was believable in his journey and more than that Stiles was believable. Another favorite reread.

 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5435879

Title: (un)broken

Author: KouriArashi

Relationship: Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Laura Hale

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage

Rating: Mature

Summary: Newly made detective Stiles Stilinski is given what looks like a straight-forward arson case. The house's owner, Kate Argent, claims that it’s her abusive ex-boyfriend Derek punishing her for kicking him out. But when Stiles looks closer, things don't add up....

My Rec: There are very few gaslighting fics in the Teen Wolf fandom but this is one of the very best. The characterization, the horribleness of Kate, is showcased brilliantly. This story is always near the top of my reread list.

 Bonus recs:

Link: http://coyotequeens.tumblr.com/post/124109492735/hi-heres-a-prompt-if-youre-willing-sterek

Title: Untitled (as far as I can tell)

Author: grimm

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Warnings: None

Rating: Unrated

Summary: Dearmonday: Hi! Here’s a prompt if you’re willing, sterek arranged marriage – the day they fall in love. (If that makes sense hahaha) Thank you! :)

Grimm: I wanna punch you in the face for this prompt. (✿◠‿◠)

My Rec: Remember I said I liked the emotional hurt sometimes? This is one of those stories. Derek is a king too soon in his role and forced to take a husband in Stiles. Stiles is angry at the arrangement and takes it out on Derek. One of the tags used is “Happy Ending I swear.”

 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1798978/chapters/3857674

Title: Box of Wormwood

Author: Emmessann

Relationship: Chris Argent/Derek Hale

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con

Rating: Not Rated

Summary: So, this fic has received a (purely coincidental) celebrity endorsement at the first Wolf Moon Con in answer to the question: What supernatural creature would the actors like to see on Teen Wolf?

JR: "butterflies, really dangerous butterflies." Tyler H: "Greek mythology monsters." JR: "Greek butterflies."

Well, gentlemen, against all odds and common sense, this one goes out to the both of you. (thanks to felicitysmock for the con notes.)

When Chris took the headshot, Kate exploded -- burst into a swarm of satanic butterflies. Now Derek's terminally infested, waiting to see what physical or emotional hell will break out next. Chris would give anything to save his friend, but they both know the clock is ticking on their last desperate hope.

Diverges from the final scene of Season 3B.

My Rec: One of those that I just keep coming back to. Its own mythology is well-done and beautifully presented. I’m neither here nor there on Chris Argent/Derek Hale, but the relationship in this story is done with insight into both characters and the struggles they have gone through.

 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6520231/chapters/14917072

Title: Mine to have

Author: baeberiibungh

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, past Jennifer Blake/Derek Hale

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con

Rating: Not Rated

Summary: Derek whimpers, the ropes taunt over his hands and legs, Stiles smirking above him and his hands weaving a too heated path on his bare skin that makes him recoil inwardly…

My Rec: Now, as much as I like a sappy, happy ending or an emotional rollercoaster, one of my absolute guilty pleasures is dark!Stiles with or without a happy ending. This story doesn’t have a happy ending. I loved the way the manipulation was subtle enough that the reader only realized the depth of it at the same time Derek did.