#second in command stiles

[incorrect-teenwolf-quotes]

Derek: *trying to feed Eli*

Eli: *smacks the spoon out of his hand, arms flailing around*

Derek: That's the forty seventh time!

Stiles: I was an energetic kid but ours seems to be my ADHD if he was a person

Derek: *in his Alpha voice* I COMMAND YOU TO EAT CHILD!

Eli: *passes out*

Stiles: Quick! Sleep while we can!

Eli: *wakes up* SECOND WIND!!! *resumes his flailing*

Derek: Is it too late to return him?

Stiles: I think once it comes out of you, you have to keep it

[beaconfeels]

Everything is red. Red like rage, like pain, like the howls of his pack as they burned. Peter drenches the world in red, and he feels nothing but anger.

Then, “I’m not afraid of you!” 

It’s not exactly true, but it’s also not exactly a lie. For the first time in months, Peter feels something else. Curious. Intrigued. 

Then everything goes red again. 

—

The boy is defiant. Still refusing to back down, just like the first time Peter met him. He’s terrified but he doesn’t cower. 

As a reward, Peter offers him the best gift he can think of: the bite. 

It’s hugely disappointing when the boy pulls his arm away at the last second. 

“I don’t want to be like you,” the boy says.

It’s a lie, but Peter lets him go anyway. For the first time since he awoke, he wants something more than to be feared. He’ll wait for the boy to come to him. 

—

”I know why you did it,” Stiles says. He’s curled up against a tree, clutching his bruised ribs. This time, he really isn’t afraid.

That knowledge soothes Peter, cools down the red enough for him to focus on pale skin and brown eyes. 

“They killed your family,” Stiles says, “I would have done the same.” 

That is also not a lie, and Peter leans in, tilting his head to the side as he inspects the boy. “You don’t hate me anymore,” he realizes out loud.

”Maybe not,” Stiles says, “But that doesn’t mean we’re on the same side.” 

Fair enough, Peter thinks, slinking back through the trees before the rest of the pack catches up with them. 

—

Being alive again is strange. Death did not become him, but he’s not so sure life does anymore either. He misses the red haze sometimes. Everything is so colorful, so vivid now. For the first time in his life, there are moments when he wishes his senses were as dull as a human’s. Six months in, and he still hasn’t gotten used to it. 

He goes deep into the forest, the only place where he doesn’t feel assaulted by sensory overload. There, he finds the one intrusion he doesn’t mind. It’s his boy, curled over something in his hands in a grassy meadow. 

Stiles’s lips move, and Peter can’t quite make out the words, something in Latin, he thinks. 

Peter creeps closer and sees that a dead leaf in Stiles’s hand is slowly unfurling into green. 

“Yes!” Stiles says, pumping his fist, and then nearly falls over when he realizes Peter is standing not ten feet in front of him. 

“Clever boy,” Peter purrs.

”Yeah yeah,” Stiles says with an eye roll, but his cheeks blush rosy pink. 

—

”Stay,” Stiles says, reaching out to snag Peter’s hand. He’s curled up on his bed, blanket pulled hastily over himself because Peter had commanded him to get some sleep. 

This is what Peter had wanted back in that parking garage. To be wanted. To be chosen. It’s not all he wants, but it’s plenty for now, Peter decides as he lies down beside his boy. 

Stiles curls against his body, and Peter puts an arm around him and holds him tight, planting a soft kiss in his hair as the boy falls asleep.

Yes, it’s quite enough for now. 

—

”You want me, right?” Stiles asks. He sounds sure and steady, even though his heart is pounding in his chest. 

“Yes,” Peter answers.

”In all the ways?”

”In all the ways.” 

Stiles nods, a little smile curling up the corner of his lips. “Okay, you can have me,” he says. 

The touch of his boy’s hands is nothing like the red that burned through Peter for so long. It feels like a cool breeze on a warm day, soothing and refreshing. 

Their lips touch and part, touch and part. Everything is Stiles’s smile and Stiles’s sparkling eyes, and Stiles’s fingers in his hair. Gold, like the last light of evening, flooding everything in its soft glow. 

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Sterek but Merlin au

Derek Hale is the werewolf prince of beacon hills, a place that outlawed all types of magic. ( I was having trouble deciding who was the prince before I realized the stiles would have figured out Derek in a WEEK) Werewolf’s are naturally distrustful of it.

Stiles is the son of the commander of the city watch. Being a spark, a creature of magic. One cannot exist without the other. He is close friends with Derek and works with his father and doctor Deaton (He would be gauis)

Stiles being absolutely distraught that his very existence is a betrayal against the person he loves. But he cannot handle the idea of betraying Derek, not after Paige and Kate and Jennifer.

Going to him on his knees and confessing, crying out that he would never harm Derek or his family. To not harm his father because he had nothing to do with his magic. Begging him to spare his father and to not let him watch stiles burn. And lastly he begs for Derek to kill him, one last mercy. he doesn’t even care if it’s quick as long as it’s by Derek’s hand.

I’m struggling with picturing with Derek’s reaction, because betrayal is something he would abhor but this is Stiles. Stiles has always been and forever will be an expectation to every rule for him. Stiles no matter who or what he his, is Derek’s. And fire would never touch a lick of stiles skin. Derek would coo at how adorable stiles is being begging on his knees, he would wipe the tear from his face before making stiles vow by magic, unbreakable in every right to belong to him. (Ooh I see you master manipulator, getting your mate) binding stiles to him in every sense of the word. What does Derek care of the rules, of the kingdom against stiles. He is a second son. He won’t even be king, he’ll have a plot of land and he live there until his end of days with stiles.

This binds them even further together. Stiles killing anyone who even breathes a word of treason or assassination against his prince. Derek hunts down anyone who even looks in the direction of stiles with even a little bit a malicious

Them having a happy ending because I can’t handle angst

Their networks were cowards

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Last Chance Lost Fic

Derek smelling something sweet around The Hale pack house and not being able to locate it what it is. Jackson is his second in command, the alpha ack is a threat and they’re trying to find a way to destroy them. Derek realises the smell was pregnant!stiles when he, Jackson and Boyd hear the baby’s heartbeat while stiles is making stew.

If you recognize it send me an ask or IM. Thank you!

[fruchtfliege]

Fuck it Friday 💘🐺

Tagged by @honestlydarkprincess (yo I was legit writing when I saw this 🥰✨) @hemlocksandfoxgloves and @ksbbb

Coming back to the fire and their friends, Theo shouldn't be surprised that it takes less than two seconds for Stiles to smash through the small foundation of control and peacefulness Theo just spent an hour building within Liam. 

“Took your time! I thought Theo killed you for good this time. Or that you killed him,” Stiles throws Liam’s way before mumbling to himself. “I wouldn't have minded that second option.”

The werewolf doesn’t waste time on a warning and goes to jump Stiles but Theo puts a hand on his chest to block him, making Liam come to a halt. The beta looks at Theo and eases, his focus shifting as soon as he feels his hand on him. Theo tries not to smile at Liam softening so fast but he makes a note of it.��

“Alec, take the chair,” Theo commands the young beta. 

“Why?” Alec doesn’t even take his eyes off the fire, he’s far too serious about the marshmallow he’s currently roasting.  

“‘Cause I need to be between Liam and Stiles so Liam doesn't kill him.” Impatient, Theo simply grips the back of Alec's shirt and pulls him up only to toss him into the camping chair behind him so he can sit on the blanket with Liam. 

“Thanks?” Stiles says, puzzled and giving him a side-eye.

“I'm not doing this for you,” Theo says honestly and with enough grumpiness so the others won’t be suspicious about the chimera being willingly helpful.

No tags coz everyone already tagged me lol but if @aristarr and @thiamsxbitch have time today or tomorrow... 👀👀

[takaraphoenix]

Oh and I am intrigued by the human alpha Stiles you mentioned! Let's say for 17 if that's not taken!

Tags: m/m, established relationship, Pack Mom Stiles, True Mates, Human Alpha Stiles, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, Jackson Doesn't Leave, Pack Feels, fluff, m/f

Main Pairing: Derek/Stiles

Side Pairings: Scott/Allison, Boyd/Erica, Jackson/Lydia

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Derek Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd III, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall, Allison Argent

@writersmonth Prompts: red + kitchen

Summary: It was a normal afternoon at the Hale House when Stiles first flashed his eyes Alpha red. And over something as stupid as when to salt pasta water.

This Story on FFNet | This Story on AO3

My Kitchen, My Rules

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

Stiles frowned as he walked into his kitchen. Yes, his kitchen. Two rooms in this house belonged to him and everyone else was just tolerated in them. Those were the kitchen and the library. And he earned those! The kitchen, because he had supplied all the sandwiches during the rebuilding of the Hale House, and once the house was half-way up, he had put his foot down and demanded them to do the kitchen second (after the bathroom, because peeing in the woods got old fast).

At the time, Stiles hadn't even noticed that Derek gave him full free reign on picking appliances and style, he took a total step back. He didn't think much of it, figuring that Derek just wasn't a fan of interior design. But when it came to the basement, to the living room, Derek took control. And then came the library, the library Derek put in specifically for Stiles, with all the books from the Hale vault. A ridiculously big and amazing courting gift that, again, Stiles didn't see as that at the time, because a library was something the entire pack benefited from.

The Hale Pack was growing and strengthening after taking down Gerard together, with Jackson joining them now that he was a wolf. Things were good. Stiles was happy. Until he started noticing changes, in the pack's behavior when it came to him. Listening to him, without protests – if he put force behind his words. They didn't just do anything he asked for, but if he commanded them, they obeyed. They also got much more tactile with him. And they broke into his bedroom near nightly, at least one beta would sneak into his room for comfort or advise or both.

It was when Stiles' own behavior changed that he realized what was going on though. Because he started to develop werewolf instincts. He'd growl and snarl, bare his teeth as though he had fangs, started scent-marking the betas, not out of copied behavior but out of genuine instincts.

His suspicion was confirmed by the Alpha Pack, who hadn't just come to torment a random, normal pack. No, they wanted the incredibly rare, valuable human Alpha in their pack. Granted, Stiles could have done without the latest big bad being the one to point it out. He would have preferred Derek with maybe chocolates or flowers, confessing his undying love to Stiles. But then that was unrealistic, considering all things traumatic and emotionally constipated.

So Stiles was the Alpha Mate and by being a human and the Alpha Mate, he'd started developing wolf instincts and Alpha abilities, when it came to the pack. It was rare, because usually when an Alpha found their mate in a human, they'd offer them the bite and the Alpha Mate became a wolf themselves. It was incredibly rare for the Alpha to let things run for this long without offering the bite. But then, that wouldn't change anything anyway. He didn't want to be a wolf.

Ever since they'd taken the Alpha Pack out, Stiles got to actually relish in his role – and also to enjoy the perks of new boyfriend. Beautiful, strong, sarcastic, growly boyfriend. Stiles was happy, was in a good place. Having his mate and their pack, the by now fully renovated Hale House that had quickly become a second home to him. Things were perfect.

Well. Nearly perfect, as he walked into his kitchen and found the betas make a mess. Allison was sitting on the counter, Scott between her knees and the two heatedly making out. No sex in Stiles' kitchen, that was one of the sanitary and sanity rules because if Stiles had to cook where he knew the unspeakable had happened, he'd only order take-out from hereon out. Lydia and Erica – also known as the most unqualified people to cook ��� were stirring something in a pot. Their respective boyfriends were fighting over the pot of water next to them. Isaac was setting the table (aka Isaac was the only one wise enough to only do allowed things in the kitchen).

Stiles brushed his hand over Isaac's neck and ruffled his curls, earning a pleased noise from the beta, as Stiles made his way over to the rest of the betas, a glare on his face.

"What do you think you're doing in my kitchen, you feral puppies?"

The pack froze and slowly turned toward him. Jackson had a salt-shaker in hand but Boyd was holding his wrist tight, holding it in place so he couldn't salt the water. They all looked like a weird still painting. Stiles' glare hardened, even as he started feeling a little queasy.

"We're making dinner, Batman," Erica perked up proudly.

"Whatever you are doing there is not edible," Stiles pointed at the pot. "There is a whole onion in there. It's not even peeled. Why would you… What compelled you… And you two! What are you doing fighting over the salt? What?"

"You salt the pasta water after boiling," Boyd frowned. "Salted water boils slower."

"That's stupid and Stiles always salts it before," Jackson growled annoyed.

The two betas started arguing loudly and shoving each other. He growled at the betas loudly.

"Shut up!" Stiles snarled. "In this kitchen, we salt before it boils, because we want the flavor in the water, besides, only large amounts of salt and much more heat would make that matter."

The betas gasped and actually whined at him, baring their throats and what. Lydia blinked at him, even as she stepped up to her own mate and took Jackson's hand, to stop him from gloating.

"Your eyes just flashed red, Stiles," Allison pointed out softly. "Alpha red."

Huh. Okay. So. That was new. Stiles blinked and swayed a little. Scott immediately rushed from Allison's side to grab him by the arm and ease him onto a chair, looking worried.

"We wanted to make dinner, since you're sick," Erica offered more softly this time.

Heaving a sigh, Stiles rubbed his face. Before he could lecture his disobedient puppies, the door opened and Derek walked in with a pile of pizzas higher than him. A small smile spread over Stiles' lips as the Alpha put the pizzas down and then immediately leaned down to try and kiss Stiles – just for Stiles to turn his face because he was sick, so Derek ended up kissing his cheek.

"I brought dinner, since you're not feeling well I figured we could have pizza."

"Yeah, you're not the only one who wanted to help with dinner," Stiles sighed.

He motioned at the betas and the stove, where whatever Erica and Lydia had made instead of a sauce was boiling over. They started cursing and took it off the stove, starting to clean up. Derek frowned as he took in the chaos, just to shake his head and grab Stiles, picking him up.

"You are sick, you need to rest, not to worry about the pups," Derek declared. "You, bed. And you lot, clean up this mess, I want the kitchen pristine before we even touch the pizzas."

At the betas' whines, Stiles sighed in defeat. "I do appreciate the sentiment. Thank you. But… never, ever touch anything in there again. My kitchen, my rules. Understood, pups?"

"Yes, mom," the betas chorused, only half in jest, making Stiles smile wryly.

~*~ The End ~*~

[takingchences]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 𖤟 prologue

Where Savanna Rios, the reigning queen of Beacon Hills High, learns that while she may be at the top of the social food chain, she's not the only predator prowling the campus

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!oc

Warnings: mature language

series masterlist + playlist + m.list

*** Friendly reminder that this chapter takes place in season 1 to give you a glimpse of their relationship. The rest of the story will follow season 3 ***

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶ ⛧ ⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶

How does one describe Savanna Rios? She's like Regina George, but meaner and hotter. Love her or hate her, Vanna commanded respect. She was the only student at Beacon Hills High Coach Finstock couldn't intimidate. The man likened the teen to his younger, female counterpart. He enjoyed watching her terrorize Greenberg and all the other idiots and delinquents that annoyed him.

Stiles Stilinski worshipped the ground she walked on. He'd been head over heels for the girl since she'd moved to town in the second grade. Vanna, Stiles, and a girl named Heather had all been close as kids, but drifted apart as they grew older. Nowadays, the three hardly spoke at all. Vanna socialized with the popular clique, Heather transferred schools, and Stiles was always getting into trouble with his best friend Scott McCall. Speaking of which....

"Oh, God. Look at them," one of her cheerleaders, Mallory, nudged Vanna's side. She snickered, pointing at the two dark haired boys talking animatedly. Scott quickly lowered his shirt after Stiles reached out to touch the bandage around his waist, glancing around nervously.

"So lame, right?" Harley from her other side joined in. Vanna ignored them. The girls were more like followers than friends. They trailed after her like ducklings that imprinted on the first thing they saw. With no free will or opinions of their own, they only said what they thought the ravenette wanted to hear. Just like everyone else.

"That is freakin' awesome," they overheard Stiles Stilinski saying. "I mean, this is seriously going to be the best thing that's happened to this town since Vanna Rios moved-"

"Stiles," his friend Scott McCall sighed, spotting the Devil herself in her uniform walking towards them with two other cheerleaders by her side. Stiles noticed her too, brushing a hand over his buzzed hair. "She doesn't even know your name."

"She knows my name, okay?" Stiles argued, straightening his shirt. "Hey, Vanna!" The boy called out, holding his hand up with a goofy grin. "You look... like you're gonna ignore me." He continued, his voice growing quieter as she strutted by without a glance.

Vanna stopped at the bottom of the steps and turned, looking straight at them. "Bilinski!" The ravenette called out, her straight, chest-length hair blowing softly in the breeze. Stiles and Scott froze, their eyes wide and mouths hanging open. Vanna snapped her fingers and pointed down at her spotless white cheer shoe, where one of the laces had come loose.

"On it!" The pale boy tripped over himself from how quickly he ran over to help her. He crouched down and retied her shoelace as she braced her right foot against his knee. Her two minions giggled above him, exchanging smirks. Vanna smiled down at the boy condescendingly with her arms crossed.

"Thanks, Biles." The head cheerleader walked away with her two shadows as they laughed and shook their heads in pity.

Stiles returned to Scott's side with a sigh, refusing to acknowledge the look of see what I mean? on Scott's face. "See? Just like I said. She knows most of my name." The pale boy finally admitted, his hazel eyes locked on Vanna's figure.

"Uh-huh." Scott quietly agreed, the two climbing the steps and entering the school. "I don't get it. Why do let her walk all over you like that?" Scott asked as they headed for their lockers.

"I don't know what to tell you, Scott. Alright? Pretty privilege is real." Stiles gestured wildly with his hands. "She could back over me with her car and I'd pay for any damages my body may have caused her paint job." The boy stared off into the distance, where Vanna could be seen giggling with Danny Mahealani. Vanny and Danny. The two, like Scott and Stiles, had developed a deep, sibling-like bond over the years and were rarely seen without the other.

"And why 'Biles,' anyway?" The tan boy shook his head with a confused look.

"Because," Stiles rolled his eyes, putting in his combination code. "When we were kids we went on a field trip to the zoo and she dared me to eat one of the food pellets. I did it—like an idiot—and barfed in front of the entire class."

The shaggy haired male snorted. "Why the hell did you agree to that?"

Stiles pursed his lips, pulling out his textbooks for first and second period. "She's very persuasive."

⊶⊶⊶ ⛧ ⊶⊶⊶

Beacon Hills was always a little out of the ordinary compared to Vanna's memories of San Diego. But lately things in the small California town were getting too strange to turn a blind eye.

Firstly, half of a girl's dead body was found naked in the woods. There weren't any leads to go off of just yet, but the police believed the Jane Doe to be a victim of an animal attack. Secondly, benchwarmer Scott McCall was suddenly a lacrosse god. Word has it that he actually flipped over his teammates to score a goal at tryouts. Then, days later, a half-dead man was found mauled in the back of a bus at the school. Yeah, things were definitely getting hairy in Beacon Hills.

"We'll figure it out-" Stiles tried to reassure a panicked Scott. Suddenly, they were joined by a third person.

"Figure what out?" Lydia sat down, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing with every movement. The two boys stared at her with wide, unblinking eyes, dumbstruck by her arrival.

"Uh-" Scott glanced frantically between Stiles and Lydia. "Just, uh... homework."

"Yeah," Stiles agreed lamely. He leaned across the table. "Why is she sitting with us?" He whispered to the werewolf, who shook his head in bewilderment.

Allison and Greenberg sat down next. "Hey," Allison greeted the table with a bright grin.

Danny appeared a moment later, noticing all the available seats were by Stiles. The lacrosse goalie sighed heavily and sat down, purposefully leaving a chair between them as he avoided eye contact with the pale boy. Stiles nearly choked on air as he realized what was happening. Because if Danny was sitting with them then-

"Why the hell are you sitting over here?" Vanna stopped at Danny's side with a grimace, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "We don't like these people."

"Play nice, Vanny." He pulled the chair next to him out from the table with a small smile. "Sit down." The cheerleader rolled her eyes but obeyed. She pulled a box of Reese's Pieces out of her bag and tore the tab open.

"Oh," Danny's expression grew smug. "Chocolate and peanut butter. I see your secret admirer is back." He held out a hand and she poured some into his palm.

"Duh." Vanna tossed her long, glossy hair over her shoulder with a perfectly manicured hand, a genuine smile on her face as she spoke with her best friend. "I'm the hottest piece of ass at this school."

Stiles made a noise of agreement, his cheeks turning red as he continued to stare at his dream girl sitting inches away from him with a hand over his mouth. "S-secret admirer?" His voice was a few octaves higher than usual. He cleared his throat, fidgeting in the hard plastic chair.

"Oh, yeah!" Allison gasped. "Lydia mentioned something about that. Somebody puts candy in your locker on Wednesdays, right?"

Vanna nodded, crossing her legs. The movement caused her skirt to ride up her thigh. Stiles forced himself to avert his eyes. "Get up," Jackson stormed over, glaring down at Greenberg.

"Why do you never ask Danny to get up?"

"Because I don't stare at his girlfriend's coin slot or up his ex's skirt." The goalie sassed.

Vanna groaned with a grimace, her nose wrinkled in disgust. "God, did you have to remind me about that dark time in my life?" Greenberg reluctantly moved and Jackson claimed the spot at the head of the table. "It was a two week fling in middle school. Do I have to carry that shame with me for the rest of my life?"

"Yes." Stiles answered aloud. She narrowed her eyes threateningly at the buzz-haired boy. He chuckled awkwardly, making finger guns.

"So, I hear they're saying it was some kind of animal attack." Danny bit into his apple.

Allison frowned. "Another one?"

The boy shrugged. "It's probably a cougar."

"I heard mountain lion," Jackson argued.

"A cougar is a mountain lion."

"A cougar is a mountain lion, dumbass."

The table went silent.

Lydia and Vanna shared a look before the redhead backtracked. "Isn't it?" The Latina rolled her eyes before tossing a candy into her mouth. Was there a better combination than velvety milk chocolate and creamy peanut butter?

"Who cares? The guy's probably just some homeless tweaker looking to die anyway." The lacrosse king said dismissively.

Stiles sat up, looking at his his phone. "Hey, I just found out who it is. Check it out." The group all leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the video playing on his phone. Stiles stopped breathing as he felt Vanna's hair brush against his cheek. Having the scent of coconut and peaches so close made him blush furiously.

Any other day, Scott would've laughed at how fast the poor boy's heart was racing from such a small interaction, but he had other things on his mind at the moment.

"I-I know that guy." He explained how he knew the victim, looking understandably freaked out. After hearing more details of the alleged animal attack, the mood was pretty bleak. It was only made worse as Lydia suggested a double date. Vanna watched, amused, as Stiles made hilarious faces during the couples' conversation. He looked physically pained the longer it dragged on. She giggled quietly.

"... you know what else sounds fun? Stabbing myself in the face with this fork," Jackson deadpanned.

"Do we all get a turn?" The lacrosse captain flipped off the ravenette.

"Vanny, Danny" Lydia pipped up, batting her eyes innocently. "Do you want-"

"No way," she denied. "I'd choose death by mountain lion before going on a group date with you losers." Her best friend nodded in agreement.

⊶⊶⊶ ⛧ ⊶⊶⊶

Another animal attack. Another dead body. This time, Lydia and Jackson were witnesses.

Now, Vanna wasn't exactly close with either of them. Jackson and her butted heads more times than not, which forced poor Danny into the roll of peacemaker. Lydia could be nice when she wanted to be. Some days the two girls got along fine, while others they were at each other's throats. There wasn't any personal beef (contrary to popular belief). The two girls simply didn't know how to get along. They were pit against each other so often, constantly compared to the other that it drove them both crazy. It wasn't a competition. They could both be beautiful, intelligent women. Having one there didn't take away from the other's value.

Then, as if things couldn't get any more fucked up, Vanna was then trapped inside the school with Stiles, Scott, Allison, Lydia, and Jackson. Oh, not to mention a psycho killer was also in the building, hunting them down.

Despite the late hour, Vanna had still been at the school. The cheerleaders had been tasked with helping make decorations for the winter formal. Most of the squad had stayed after practice to help, but Vanna eventually sent them all home while she swept up the glitter on Coach's floor and laid the posters they'd painted out to dry.

She'd run into Scott and Stiles after going to investigate the strange sounds coming through the intercom. She'd floored the young werewolf with a strong uppercut, mistaking him for a burglar in the dark hallway.

After scrambling to find an excuse for breaking in, Scott left to find Allison after receiving a text while Stiles guided Vanna back to the lobby. All night, even while they were running and hiding from whatever it was that was chasing them—because it sure as Hell wasn't human—Stiles kept her within reach, constantly adjusting so that he was placed slightly in front of her.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Vanna didn't try to bite back her smart comments. It was obvious that Scott and Stiles were lying through their teeth about the killer's identity and why he was now targeting them. The only pieces of their story that rang true were the parts about the janitor being dead and someone being after them. There was real shock and fear there. It was obvious when they'd screamed at the sight of her in the hallway earlier that they'd been fleeing something or someone.

"What are we gonna do? Throw acid at him?" Stiles had joked once they'd taken shelter in a chemistry classroom on the second floor.

"No, like a fire bomb. In there is everything you need to make a self-igniting Molotov cocktail." Lydia corrected him, moving towards the locked cabinet.

"Self-igniting...?" Stiles frowned.

"Molotov cocktail." The group stared at Lydia in confusion. "What?" She fidgeted. "I read it somewhere."

Stiles sighed, gesturing towards the cabinet. "We don't have a key for that either..."

He was cut off by the sound of glass shattering. Vanna set down the barstool she'd used to bust out the glass and reached into the empty panels in the cabinet door to remove the chemicals they would need. She shrugged. "I found a key." Her expression dared someone to say something. The teens wisely chose to remain silent.

Jackson snorted, stepping over the broken glass to help her grab the needed materials. The rest shook off their dazed expressions and got to work measuring out whatever chemicals Lydia instructed them to use. "Jackson, hand me the sulfuric acid." Lydia held a hand out. Her boyfriend hesitated before grabbing the bottle next to the one he'd originally reached for. Vanna narrowed her eyes from beside Stiles. Lydia mixed it all together before handing the weapon off to Scott.

"No," Allison blocked his path as he moved to leave. "No, this is insane. You can't do this. You can't go out there, Scott."

"We can't just sit here waiting for Stiles' dad to check his messages," the shaggy-haired boy argued.

"You could die," she stressed tearfully. "Don't you get that? He's already killed three people."

"And we're next," he reminded her, gently nudging her aside. "Somebody has to do something."

"Scott, just stop!" The brunnette panicked. "Do you remember... do you remember when you told me you knew whether I was lying or not? That I had a tell? Well, so do you. You're a horrible liar and you've been lying all night." She's not as oblivious as I thought, Vanna observed the scene from where she was perched on the edge of her usual desk.

"Just, please, please don't go. Please don't leave us," Allison pleaded. "Please?"

Scott stared at her for a moment before looking at Stiles. "Lock it behind me." His girlfriend pulled him into a desperate kiss, making the cheerleader roll her eyes in disgust. Scott left the classroom in total silence.

"So... we're just not going to talk about how painfully awkward that was to watch?" Lydia bobbed her head, swaying from side to side. "Okay."

Vanna picked at her chipped nails. Tonight's harrowing events had destroyed her manicure. She'd have to get them redone before winter formal. "I mean, I almost volunteered to take his place just to get away from your whiny as-"

"Van." Stiles shot her a look that she understood to mean behave. Her nose crinkled in annoyance.

Allison didn't react, far too busy pacing the room. "I don't get this. I don't get why he'd go out there and leave us. And I can't-" she dropped her hands from where they'd been fiddling with her hair to stare at them. "I can't stop my hands from shaking," she whimpered. Jackson moved to comfort the girl, under the watchful eyes of Lydia and Savanna. The redhead quickly turned away with a pained expression.

Jackson Whittemore had ruined Lydia Martin. He'd taken a strong, smart, confident girl and broken her down emotionally. She was forced to hide parts of herself that he didn't like or appreciate in order to receive the same affection he'd given the new girl for free. Savanna tore people down because they mostly deserved it. Jackson made people miserable for the hell of it. And now, he'd set his sights on someone that was already taken with zero regard for the girl whose heart he owned completely.

At least Lydia looked as fed up with the situation and Allison as Savanna herself felt. It wasn't often that the two agreed on something, but this was one of those rare moments where they could come together and support each other. Coffee brown eyes met green and the two girls shared a look of understanding.

Stiles was scared shitless. His best friend was out there, alone, risking his life. The Alpha was lurking somewhere in the shadows waiting for him. His dad could check his phone and arrive any minute. He was currently trapped in a classroom with the biggest douchebag he's ever met, an emotional wreck, the secret genius of Beacon Hills High, and his tormentor/crush.

"Hey," he slid into the spot next to her on the desk. Vanna side eyed him but chose not to comment on his proximity. "I just, uh... I want you to know that there's nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried." She lifted her brow pointedly. "I can handle myself."

"Oh, yeah," he chuckled. "I saw the way you took down that cabinet door." She bit her lip to contain her smile, but the boy still noticed. "And that right hook you threw at Scott earlier?" He nudged her arm with his elbow. "Badass." It completely took them by surprise how the petite girl had knocked a werewolf flat on his ass with one blow.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. It wasn't her usual cruel or smug smile, either. This one was genuine.

"Turns out you have a pretty nasty right hook yourself." She jerked her chin in Jackson's direction. His jaw was already starting to bruise.

"Ah-yeah, that." Stiles blushed, flexing his stiff knuckles. He'd definitely have to ice them if they ever got out of here. "It actually felt pretty good."

"It's not Derek that's after us, is it?" Savanna whispered, not wanting to be heard by the others. Stiles stiffened, his hazel eyes going wide.

"Wha-what?" He stuttered, avoiding eye contact. He shook his head with a look of disbelief. "Scott said-"

"I know what Scott said." Stiles felt trapped by her intense stare. "But as we've already established tonight, you're both terrible liars. So who's really out there? The Alpha?"

"How-" he gaped, looking at the others warily before leaning closer. "How do you know about that?" He whispered.

"I heard you and Scott talking in the cafeteria."

The two teens were locked in a battle of wills. Stiles crumbled under her knowing gaze. "You can't tell anybody." He stressed, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

"Who would I tell? I don't even know what we're talking about." She rolled her eyes. "But it sounds gang related. So, who is this guy?"

Stiles exhaled through his nose, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I don't know."

Savanna always thought of herself as superior, but it wasn't because of a complex or anything. She really was different from everyone around her. Her senses and reflexes were far better than your average person. She could smell things others couldn't, like the pack of mint mojito gum Stiles always carried on him. She could hear things, too... and this was the first time all night she hadn't heard his heartbeat spike.

Stiles was telling her the truth.

The seven students were now scattered across the parking lot of the high school. Stiles' dad had shown up just in time with reinforcements after Scott had locked them in from the outside, sealing them inside with no chance of escape. Vanna finished giving her statement to the kind officer and headed towards her car. She'd just tossed her cheer bag in the backseat when Stiles appeared. "Hey," he smiled breathlessly, having run all the way over to talk to her. "About earlier..." he started, leaning awkwardly against her car.

"I didn't say anything to the police, if that's what you came to ask." She crossed her arms.

Stiles blinked, mouth gaping like a fish for a moment. "No, that's... I didn't-"

"Then we have nothing to talk about. Good night," she interrupted, dipping under his arm to slip into the driver's seat. The pale boy watched with sad eyes as she drove off. He'd really thought they'd gotten somewhere tonight. She hadn't made fun of him or insulted him all night. In fact, she'd called him by his name and had actually smiled at things he'd said.

Sheriff Stilinski pulled up next to him in his squad car and rolled down the passenger window. "Get in." His son climbed into the car and settled back into the seat with a sigh. Noah looked over at his son, noticing his disappointment. "Girl trouble?" He asked.

"That obvious, huh?"

"Well, I am a cop," Noah pulled the car into the driveway and parked, though neither of them made an attempt to exit the vehicle. "And believe it or not, I was your age once."

"I just thought after everything that happened tonight," Stiles squeezed his eye shut, dragging a hand down his face. "I dunno."

Noah reached across the console to squeeze his son's shoulder. "Son, girls like that eat guys like you for breakfast. You're better off."

Stiles disagreed.

He wasn't in love with the idea of her like so many others—this gorgeous, seemingly-perfect girl. She was so much more than the stereotypical mean girl. They only looked at the surface level. Sure, she'd called him Biles Bilinski as a joke since grade school. And yes, she was the one who broke into his locker last year and covered his stuff with whipped cream... but she was also the same girl he'd befriended as a kid. The one who'd given him a piggyback ride home after scraping his knee on the playground. The one who'd dressed up as Belle for a month and a half straight because she was her favorite Disney princess. Stiles knew her before she was the girl she is today. He'd seen sides of her that she keeps hidden away from others and herself.

Everyone made fun of him for chasing after a girl he could never have, including his best friend. Even his own father encouraged him to stop wasting his time on Savanna Rios. But Stiles Stilinski is stubborn and persistent. There was always a chance that things between them could change. If he'd learned anything in the weeks following Scott's transformation, it was that in Beacon Hills, nothing is impossible.

⊶⊶⊶ ⛧ ⊶⊶⊶

"Are you not freaking out?" Stiles and Scott walked out of the locker room after Coach announced the new co-captains. "I'm freaking out."

"What's the point? It's just a stupid title." Scott was still moping. Stiles had taken him out the night before to drink and help him get over Allison dumping him. Unfortunately, they learned that werewolves can't get drunk and Scott had ended up babysitting his wasted best friend. The full moon was coming and not even the announcement of his new position as co-captain could get him out of his funk. "I could practically smell the jealousy in there."

"Wait," Stiles threw an arm out, stopping Scott in the middle of the hallway. "You can smell jealousy?"

"Yeah, the full moon is turning everything up to 10."

"So you can pick up on stuff like," the pale stared down the hall at a group of cheerleaders talking. "I don't know, desire?"

Scott gave him a small, knowing smirk. "Desire?"

"Like, sexual desire." Stiles elaborated.

"Sexual desire?" Scott repeated with high brows.

His friend was growing impatient. "Yes, Scott, sexual desire. Lust, passion, arousal." He rolled the "r" with his tongue. The werewolf spotted a familiar face among the group of girls.

"You mean Savanna."

"No," Stiles immediately denied. "In a general, broad sense. Can you determine sexual desire?"

"From Vanna to you?"

"Fine, yes." Stiles clenched his teeth. "From Vanna to me. Look,  I need to know if I have a chance with this girl. Okay? I've been obsessing over her since we were freakin' seven."

"Why don't you just ask her?" Scott suggested.

"To save myself the utterly crushing humiliation, thank you very much." The paler boy said in an obvious tone. "So can you please just go up and ask her if she likes me? See if her heartbeat rises or pheromones come out," he waved his hand around his head.

"Alright," Scott gave in, unhappily walking towards the group of cheerleaders.

Stiles watched him in disbelief. "I love you," he called after his friend in excitement. "I love you. You're my best friend in the whole world."

The group fell quiet as Scott approached, the girls eyeing him up in down in confusion and curiosity. "Can we, uh, talk for a second?" He asked the ravenette. Vanna frowned but agreed, walking with him over to coach's office. Vanna leaned her hip against the edge of the desk.

"Is this about the other night?"

"Do you know if Allison still likes me?" He asked with those sad, puppy dog eyes. Vanna scoffed, crossing her arms with a sneer.

"How the hell would I know? We're not friends."

"You hang out in the same circle." He shrugged, moving closer. "I thought you might've heard something."

"Well, I didn't. Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you, so..." she tried to move around him to get to the door but was blocked.

"I was trying to protect you," he stated in a low voice, taking another step towards her. Vanna refused to retreat and held her chin up confidently, even when her instincts were telling her that something was wrong. This was not the Scott McCall she was used to. "All of you. Why can't you see that?"

"McCall-" she placed a hand on his chest to keep some distance between them.

He inched closer, inhaling deeply. "You smell... good." His nose brushed the skin of her neck as he leaned in to sniff her once more. His strong hands gripped her hips painfully, rooting her in place. Vanna fisted a handful of his long, curly hair and yanked, forcing his head back and away from her.

"Do not touch me." She hissed, her pupil's dilated as they made eye contact. She threw him to the side and stormed out of the office with a slam of the door.

Turns out, after Scott had made an aggressive pass at her, he'd turned around and made out with Lydia Martin. Then, as if he was trying to incur the infamous wrath of Rios, he injured Danny during lacrosse practice. Everyone stopped what they were doing to rush to the boy's side.

The ravenette shoved people out of the way to kneel next to him. "Danny? Are you okay?" Her hands hovered over him, not wanting to injure him further. Jackson joined her a second later. "Where does it hurt, Dan?"

The goalie laid flat on his back, blinking slowly in confusion.

"Dude!" Stiles walked over to Scott and removed his helmet. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What?" Scott snapped back. "He's twice the size of me."

"But everybody likes Danny." Coach moved to the side to allow the sports medic through. Vanna and Jackson stayed by their hurt friend. "Now everybody's gonna hate you."

"I don't care." He stormed off.

Vanna squeezed her best friend's hand in reassurance and comfort as the medic tested Danny for a head injury. The cheerleader and Jackson each took an arm and propped Danny between them, walking him to the locker room to be examined further.

"Control your dog, Stilinski." She spat as they passed him.

⊶⊶⊶ ⛧ ⊶⊶⊶

"I brought you some water," Stiles walked into Scott's dark bedroom. The boy in question was lying on the floor chained to the radiator. Stiles held up a bottle of water and a dog bowl with his friend's name written on it in sharpie. He poured the bottle out and set the bowl on the ground a little ways from Scott.

The werewolf threw the full bowl at Stiles' back as he made to leave. "I'm gonna kill you!" He growled.

"You ruined it, Scott." Stiles whipped around, pretty pissed off himself. "Okay? Van told everyone what you did. That's my... like, the one girl that I..." he struggled to voice his concerns as so many thoughts and emotions flowed through him. "And you know, the past three hours I've been thinking, 'it's probably just the full moon,' you know? 'He probably doesn't even know what he's doing. Tomorrow he'll be back to normal and he probably won't even remember what a complete dumbass he's been. A son of a bitch, a freakin' unbelievable piece of crap friend-"

"She came onto me."

"What?" Stiles breathed.

"She was all over me," Scott smirked darkly up at him. "She wanted me, man, and she smelled amazing." Stiles left, sliding down the wall just outside the bedroom. He shook his head, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth as Scott continued to spew bullshit. Stiles had waited for the girl outside the locker rooms and begged her to tell him what happened. She'd cursed both boys in Spanish before telling him how Scott had practically forced himself on her. "I've never smelled anything like that before."

[ellswritings]

Heart Monitor 1x06

Episode 7

To Fallon’s surprise, after her accident and spending pretty much all night in the hospital, when she returned home, Derek was still there. Pretty engrossed in his book to her delight. He was pretty concerned about her leg, which happened to be a clean break. He was furious when he found out what happened, but so was Stiles. It was interesting hearing them say pretty much the exact same thing without the other knowing. They both unknowingly agreed that Scott needs to step away from Allison to regain focus.

Stiles’ idea of getting Scott to understand his mistakes is by giving him the silent treatment. So sitting in their shared class, Fallon stares blankly at the white board, periodically writing down notes as Scott desperately tries to get them to talk to him. After a while she did start to feel bad. He has apologized incessantly since the accident and while Fallon did originally want to hit him with a car of her own, she slowly began to miss talking to him.

“Seriously?” Scott sighs upsetly. “You guys seriously are still not talking to me?” No response. “Fallon, you know how sorry I am. I mean, at least it was a clean break, right? My mom says they have a better chance at healing without complications.”

The girl looks down at the white cast covering her leg. He’s right, clean breaks do have a better chance at healing fully. She’s devastated though that she’ll have to sit out at lacrosse practice for the next couple of weeks, which is actually one of the main reasons she wanted to wring Scott’s neck. But knowing Coach, he’ll kill Scott before she does.

She reaches into her backpack, pulling out a small bottle of painkillers. She pops one into her mouth, chasing it with a sip of water. She didn’t do it as a way to make Scott feel bad, but seeing him hang his head in shame out of the corner of her eye did make her feel slightly vindicated.

“You know I feel really bad about it, right?” He tries once again. Fallon can hear the sadness in his voice. She glances at Stiles, seeing if he’s ready to give in yet. Freckles shakes his head, commanding her with his eyes to stand her ground. She huffs, dropping her head into her hand with a frown. Scott leans forward even further, tapping Fallon on the shoulder. “Okay. What if I told you that I'm trying to figure this whole thing out, and... that I went to Derek for help?”

Fallon’s head snaps towards Stiles faster than it ever has before. She makes a wild gesture with her hands, showing how desperately she wants to give her opinion on the matter. Stiles tries to stay strong, but the pleading look in her eyes causes him to groan. He exhales loudly out of his nose, “If I was talking to you, I'd say that you're an idiot for trusting im. But, obviously, I'm not talking to you…”

Fallon’s lip quirks up in a small smile. She lazily writes in her notebook, pretending not to care. “And if I was talking to you, I’d say that I’m proud of you for stepping up and getting help from someone who has more experience with this than you.” Stiles glares at her for complimenting him and she just shrugs. “It’s like the devil and angel on the shoulder thing,” she explains. “I’m the nice one.”

“Uh-huh,” Stiles narrows his eyes, “And I’ve kissed Taylor Swift.”

Scott smiles brightly as things seem to return to normal between the three for a moment. Her and Stiles make eye contact, faces going stoic for a split second. They wordlessly communicate, making Scott wonder how they learned to read each other’s facial expressions so well. Both of them turn around at the same time.

“What did Derek say?”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Walking out of their class together, Scott sticks to Fallon’s side which isn’t heavily unusual, but she’s used to him taking up Stiles’ side, not hers. Most of the time when they walk together, Stiles is in the middle while Fallon takes up his left and Scott his right. But now she’s in the middle. She doesn’t mind it, it’s clearly him feeling guilty over what happened. He even took her backpack from her before she could even grab her crutches. If this is the new treatment he’s giving her, she’s definitely not going to complain.

“Wh--? He wants you to tap into your animal side and get angry?” Stiles asks him incredulously after hearing what Derek said to Scott.

“Yeah…”

“All right, well, correct me if I'm wrong, but every time you do that, you try to kill someone, and that someone is usually us.” He gestures between Fallon and himself.

Scott sighs, “I know. That’s what he means when he says he doesn’t know if he can teach me. I have to be able to control it,” he explains.

Fallon tilts her head in thought, “I mean, it’s not impossible…” she admits. “I know it feels difficult right now, but Derek has control doesn’t he?” She points out with a shrug. “He obviously learned how to do it over time. I don’t think he came out knowing how to be a werewolf. While I do believe he came out with a leather jacket and angry cat face, I don’t think he came out being an expert on control.”

“How do you think he’s going to teach you?” Stiles asks, nodding along with Fallon’s statement.

“I don’t know,” Scott adjusts his backpack strap with an unsure expression. “I don’t think he does either…”

Stiles rolls his eyes at his friend's lack of knowledge, “Okay. When are you seeing him again?”

“He told me not to talk about it,” Scott answers. “Just act normal and get through the day.”

Fallon shoots him a pointed look, “When?” She asks, knowing there has to be a more specific time than that.

Scott looks at her, huffing as he knows he can’t keep anything from her after letting her get run over. “He’s picking me up at the animal clinic after work.”

Stiles nods, “After work. All right. Well, that gives us to the end of the school day then.”

Scott furrows his brows, “To do what?”

Stiles and Fallon make eye contact, smiling in unison, “To teach you ourselves.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

When lunch rolled around, Fallon was summoned by Lydia and Allison, the two girls wanting to see how she was doing after all that happened. Unfortunately, the conversation didn’t last long as Stiles strode by, grabbing her backpack and lunch tray and taking it over to their usual table. She watched after him, jaw agape while the other two girls just looked at her confused. He just stared at her, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for her to hobble over to him. Seeing as he wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, she bid her two friends goodbye before venturing over to him.

That brings them to the present moment, her smacking the back of his head for his rude behavior. “Y’know you could’ve just asked me to sit with you like a normal person,” she scolds, plopping down in her seat.

Stiles takes her crutches, putting them on his other side so they’re not in her way. “If I would’ve done that you would’ve just put your finger up and told me to wait,” he points out. “At least this way, you couldn’t tell me no,” he smiles innocently.

Fallon narrows her eyes but can’t prevent the grin that spreads across her face. She shoves him playfully, “Don’t look at me like that when I’m trying to be mad at you.”

“You’re not mad at me,” he rolls his eyes, popping a french fry from her plate into his mouth. “You can’t be mad at me. You love me too much. Your life would be so boring without me in it.”

“What you call boring most people would consider peaceful,” she shoots back sarcastically.

Stiles reaches over, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into him as he messes up her hair. The two of them roughhouse for a moment before Scott not-so-subtly slides into the seat across from them, clearly still avoiding Allison.

Fallon tilts her head, still stuck in Stiles’ lap. They stare at him as he hides his face behind one of his textbooks. The girl lifts an eyebrow, “I think using the book as a shield is making your intentions more obvious,” she says. “Besides, she’s not even looking over here. She seems pretty engrossed in whatever that book is about.”

Scott peeks over the pages, noticing that his somewhat girlfriend isn’t looking in his direction. He exhales, lowering the book but not straightening his posture to full height. “So, did you guys come up with a plan yet?”

Stiles nods, silently checking with Fallon. “We think so.”

He stares at them hopefully, “Does that mean you guys don’t hate me now?”

“No,” Fallon takes a spoonful of yogurt.

“No,” Stiles scoffs in agreement. “But your crap has infiltrated Fallon and I’s life, so now we have to do something about it,” he answers sassily. “Plus, I’m definitely a better Yoda than Derek.”

“I choose to take on a more Haymitch Abernathy role in this situation,” Fallon shrugs. “Drunkenly making sure my pseudo children don’t kill themselves,” she points at the two boys.

“Okay,” Scott nods with a small smile. “Yeah, you guys can teach me.”

“Yeah, I’ll be your Yoda,” Stiles smiles.

“Yeah, you be my Yoda.”

“Your Yoda I will be,” Stiles says in a gruff voice, trying his best to mock the character from the films. Fallon chuckles, shaking her head at how horrible it was. “I said it backwards,” Stiles laughs.

“Yeah, I-I know,” Scott nods slowly, showing how he still has never watched the movies, despite how many times Stiles has begged.

“All right, you know what?” Stiles gets up angrily, grabbing Fallon’s bag and crutches before helping her up. “I definitely still hate you. Uh-huh. Oh, yeah.”

He storms off, Fallon huffing as she tries to keep pace. She shoots Scott an apologetic glance, but by the way Allison is approaching him, Stiles having a fit about Star Wars is the least of the werewolf’s worries.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon’s theatre class had ended up being rather active for the girl’s current predicament. They were introducing new stretches and class bonding exercises to get everyone ready for the Beauty and the Beast production. She was upset that she couldn’t participate, but her teacher, Ms. Potter was more than understanding. She gave Fallon the script early, granting her a free period to read over it since she can’t do any of the activities in class.

So now she sits with a highlighter dangling from her mouth on the lacrosse field, her legs sprawled out. Her eyes gaze over the pages, writing small notes in her notebook about each character and what makes them tick. She briefly glances up as Stiles throws the equipment for Scott on the floor, looking at her with curiosity.

“What are you reading?” He asks, tossing his lacrosse bag at her to hold.

She catches it with ease, setting it down beside her. “The script for the play.”

“Oh,” he comments, not knowing it was that time already. “When are auditions?”

“Next week,” she sighs, rubbing her face. “I don’t think I’m gonna audition though. There’s just too much going on.”

Stiles looks at her incredulously, “What?” He shakes his head. “No, absolutely not. You have to audition.”

“Stiles–”

“Fall, you are so good at singing,” he huffs. “You can’t just not audition. That would be like a crime to everyone’s ear holes.”

She playfully glares at him, “While I appreciate the compliment, there will be other shows for me to do. Right now, my priority is here with you and Scott.” She leans back on her arms, “Plus, I’m kind of stretched thin as it is with lacrosse and school,” she opens up honestly. “My counselor is already talking about enrolling me in a college English course next semester, so I just want to focus on getting through high school… and not getting ripped apart by a werewolf in the process.”

He looks at her with sympathy, but ultimately understands where she’s coming from. “All right. Well, you know that Scott and I would go see every show if you did decide to do it.”

“I know,” she smiles appreciatively.

At that moment, Scott comes running out of the school and over to his two friends. He stops in front of them, “Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes. “It took me a minute to convince Mr. Smith to give me a free period,” he sets his backpack on the floor next to Fallon as well.

“It’s fine,” Stiles waves off hurriedly, grabbing something and handing it to Scott. “Okay. Now, put this on,” he commands.

Scott takes it, inspecting it with a confused look, “Isn’t this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?” He queries, unsure of how it would benefit them.

“Yeah,” Stiles nods. “I borrowed it.”

“Stole it,” Fallon corrects nonchalantly, still observing the script.

Stiles speaks defensively, “Temporarily misappropriated,” he counters before turning his attention back to Scott. “Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs, and you're gonna wear it for the rest of the day.”

Fallon shakes her head as Stiles pulls out a cellphone that definitely doesn’t belong to him. Scott’s jaw goes slack, “Isn’t that Coach’s phone?” He asks warily.

Stiles nods slowly, “That… I stole.”

“Why?” Scott looks at his friend, not even knowing where to start on labeling his issues.

“Because Master Yoda over here doesn’t understand the concept of rules,” Fallon smirks as Stiles looks more than offended. “Or laws, or personal boundaries. A side effect of your father being the sheriff.”

“Okay, I don’t want to hear it,” he puts his hand up in her direction. “Last time I checked, that father got you out of a speeding ticket last week when you were practically flying through a residential area like Wolverine in X-Men Origins.”

“That was a very specific comparison,” Fallon snickers.

“Anyway…” he sends Fallon a look that says to stop interrupting unless she plans on being helpful. He points to the monitor on Scott’s wrist, “All right, well, your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right? When you're playing lacrosse, when you're with Allison, whenever you get angry... Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heart rate,” he carefully explains the theory him and Fallon had been talking about.

“Like the Incredible Hulk?”

Fallon shrugs, “Kind of like the Incredible Hulk, yeah.” She figures letting him think he’s a superhero will get him to try harder. It’s like Stiles and his unnatural fixation with becoming Spiderman. She lets him believe it could happen. At this point, she wouldn’t be surprised if it did. He definitely wouldn’t look half bad in the suit.

Scott smiles widely, “No, I’m like the Incredible Hulk!”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Would you shut up and put the strap on?”

The spastic boy tosses Fallon the phone, assigning her to keep track of his heart rate. The two boys travel out to the center of the field, Stiles duct taping Scott’s arms behind his back. Freckles smiles mischievously at Fallon from behind Scott. She raises an amused eyebrow, knowing this is Stiles getting revenge for the brunette girl.

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my free period!” Scott complains as Stiles walks a few feet away, bending down to pick up his own lacrosse stick.

He blatantly ignores Scott’s words, “All right. You ready?” He asks, scooping a ball into his net.

“No.”

“Remember– don’t get angry,” Stiles warns him, cocking his arm back to launch the ball.

Scott shifts on his feet, eyeing Stiles unsurely. “I’m starting to think this was a really bad idea,” he voices.

Without another words, Stiles chucks the ball at Scott’s body, pelting him roughly. Fallon winces from her spot besides Stiles, glancing at the heart rate monitor. Still steady for now, only moving up one point. Stiles readies another ball, throwing it as hard as he can, nailing Scott in the chest.

“Oh, man!” The boy cries out. “Okay, that one kind of hurt.”

Fallon watches as a small satisfied smile makes its way onto Stiles’ face. He wiggles his eyebrows at her, offering his stick, “Wanna give it a go? It’s pretty therapeutic actually.”

“No!” Scott shouts with wide eyes. “Do not give her that stick.”

Stiles shushes him like a child, “Quiet. Remember, you’re supposed to be thinking about your heart rate, all right? About staying calm.” He reminds before smirking as he helps Fallon to her feet. He hands her the stick, looking Scott directly in the eye. He pats her back, helping her stay upright. “Give it a go.”

Scott starts muttering encouraging words to himself under his breath as Fallon adjusts her grip on the stick. She smoothly scoops up a ball, licking her bottom lip. She lifts the stick, throwing it roughly at her best friend. The ball collides harshly with his gut, making him double over in pain. It sounds like the wind has been knocked out of him.

“AHHH! Son of a bitch!”

“Nice!” Stiles chuckles, high fiving her. Scott shoots them an incredulous look which makes Stiles clear his throat awkwardly. He dismisses Scott, “Heart rate,” he points stiffly.

“What do you think I’m doing?!” Scott screams at them with a heavily clenched jaw.

Fallon goes to sit back down, noticing his number climbing higher with every passing second. She shares a warning glance with Stiles before looking at Scott again. “Don't get angry.”

“I’m not getting angry!” He responds frustratedly.

Stiles continues his assault on Scott as Fallon carefully monitors Coach’s phone. She begins to get nervous as she watches the numbers climb higher and higher. 140. 141. 142. That’s when Stiles knocks him in the jaw, making Scott almost fall to the ground in pain. The boy tries to regain his footing, “Stop. Just wait– Wait, just hold on–” he groans, doubling over once again, but this time he actually collapses to the floor.

157. 158. 159. 160.

“Stiles!” Fallon gets his attention, a cautionary gaze in her eyes as she flashes him the phone. Scott continues groaning as Stiles places his stick on the floor. Suddenly the duct tape around his wrist flies off in different directions. Stiles and Fallon watch him with wide eyes. He’s shifting. The heart monitor starts beeping rapidly, his heart rate reaching high numbers that are nowhere near healthy for a normal person.

“Scott?” Stiles calls out warily, trying to find a way to calm him down.

His breathing gets heavier and deeper after a moment as he clenches and unclenches his fists. Fallon glances back at the phone to see the numbers slowly decreasing and returning to normal. She and Stiles let out a breath they didn’t even know they were holding.

“That could’ve gone in a seriously horrific direction,” she mumbles to him.

Stiles nods slowly, helping Fallon to her feet. The two of them travel over to the boy who is still folded over on the ground. “Scott, you started to change…” Stiles says softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Scott breathes heavily as his pulse is still returning to normal, “From anger,” he adds. “But it was more than just that– it was like, the angrier I got, the stronger I felt.”

“So Derek is right,” Fallon says thoughtfully. “It is anger that elicits a reaction.”

Scott shakes his head defeatedly, “I can’t be around Allison,” he says glumly.

“Just because she makes you happy?” Stiles questions.

“No…” he looks up at them sadly. “Because she makes me weak.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon walks alongside Stiles as they walk into Coach’s economics class. The two of them snicker at a joke Fallon told him on the way in, earning a confused glance from their teacher. For how funny that man is, he sure doesn’t seem to be a big fan of laughter. The two teens just giggle again at his look of confusion before finishing their journey to the middle of the class. Stiles sets Fallon’s stuff down in the chair next to Scott’s, the two boys not having let her carry anything of her own all day. It was endearing and annoying at the same time, but she let them do it.

Stiles goes to sit behind Fallon, but a quick panicked look from Scott gets his attention. “Stiles. Sit behind me!” He whisper yells.

Fallon looks up and sees Allison beelining it for the exact same seat. Stiles scrambles to the side, trying to get all of his belongings and himself into the chair before she can. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough. Allison smoothly slides into the seat, smiling at Scott as she completely ignores Stiles. Scott turns in his chair, a frown plastered on his face as his plan to avoid Allison is not going as well as he hoped.

Fallon shoots Scott a sympathetic smile before reaching in her backpack to bring out last night's homework assignment. It wasn’t anything too difficult. Just a few pages of reading and a couple of questions to help summarize the important parts.

The bell rings loudly, indicating the start of the period. Coach turns to start writing about today’s topic of discussion on the board. She watches out of her peripherals as Allison leans forward in her desk to get closer to Scott. The boy tenses, sensing her growing closer in proximity. Allison doesn’t seem to notice the awkward tension as she goes to talk to him.

“Hey,” she smiles happily. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

Scott barely looks back, “Uh, yeah. I’ve been, uh, super busy,” he looks at Stiles and Fallon for help.

His two friends shrug at his misfortune, Fallon sinking further into her chair to avoid watching this train wreck go down. Scott has a look of momentary desperation until he has to cover it up when Allison grows closer. “When are you gonna get your phone fixed? I feel like I’m totally disconnected from you.”

Yikes. Fallon’s phone buzzes with a text from Stiles.

She sneakily pulls it out, hiding it underneath her desk to respond. I don’t know if I should be embarrassed for her or for him.

She’s clueless and he’s awkward. Why can’t it be both?

True. She giggles at his reply. I feel bad. They’re both happy when they’re together. Sucks that they can’t be.

I mean, we don’t know that yet. Stiles counters.

He said she makes him weak. She reminds him.

Once he learns how to control it, it’ll be fine. He reassures her. We just gotta show him that he won’t hurt her. Or anyone else.

Yeah, ‘cause this gross couple-ey mutual pining crap is starting to get on my nerves. She rolls her eyes as Allison tells Scott she switched her lab partner to him. She loves them both together, she really does. But Fallon’s hopeless romanticism stops in the fictional worlds she reads about.

You’re such a romantic. Stiles smirks at her with sarcasm written on his face. It really is a shock that you’re still single.

Ditto.

Stiles kicks the back of her chair and she leans her head back, looking at him upside down. She smiles innocently, booping his nose before sitting upright again. He scoffs lowly, crossing his arms as he tries to act offended by her response.

A book slamming on a desk pulls everyone’s attention to the front. Coach Finstock has a menacing look on his face as he analyzes the class, “Let’s settle down,” he commands. “Let’s start with a quick summary of last night’s reading.” Only one individual raises their hand, causing Coach to roll his eyes. “Greenberg, put your hand down. Everybody knows you did the reading,” he dismisses the boy, more annoyed now than he was before class. “How about, uh…” Everyone avoids eye contact with their teacher like the plague, trying to avoid being the one he calls on. “McCall!”

Scott looks up at him like a deer in the headlights, “What?”

Coach moves to sit on his desk, the tension within the small classroom slowly growing. “The reading.”

Scott shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, “… Last night's reading?” He wonders, seemingly trying to stall so he doesn’t have to do it.

Coach grows irritated with the question, starting to realize that Scott didn’t do the assignment, “H-How about, uh, the reading of The Gettysburg Address?” He suggests sardonically making the rest of the class laugh. Fallon wiggles her own between her fingers nervously. Coach making fun of him like this is going to make him shift in front of everyone.

Scott looks even more confused, “What?”

“That’s sarcasm,” Coach reveals with a tilt of his head. “You familiar with the term sarcasm, McCall?”

He slowly turns to the two friends on his right, “Very,” he answers. Fallon simply glares at him while Stiles smiles proudly, patting Fallon’s back like it’s a team effort. Which, most of the time it is.

Coach huffs, looking at him expectantly, “Did you do the reading, or not?”

The boy plays with the pages of the book in front of him, his embarrassment increasing. “Um, I think I forgot…”

“Nice work, McCall,” his teacher praises fakely. “It’s not like you’re not averaging a D in this class.” He leans forward on Scott’s desk, his anger being replaced by concern. “Come on, buddy. You know I can’t keep you on the team if you have a D.”

Fallon’s attention is stolen when she hears the familiar beeping of Coach’s phone tracking the heart monitor. She pulls it out of her pocket, eyes widening when she sees Scott’s pulse rising. Stiles leans forward, watching along with her as the numbers start to increase with everything Coach says.

“How about you summarize, uh, the previous night’s reading?” He suggests. 98. 99. 100.

Scott silently shakes his head, hoping that he somehow finds a supernatural way to turn invisible. “No?” Finstock mocks. “How about, the uh, the night before that?” Scott fiddles with his fingers as he avoids eye contact. 122. 123. 124. “How about you summarize anything you’ve ever read in your entire life?!” 135. 136. 137.

“I-I… uh–”

“No? A blog?” Coach asks, looking for any sort of hope that Scott’s done something. “How about, uh, h-how about, uh, the back of a cereal box?” Scott tries to hide his face behind his hand as their teacher continues grilling him. Fallon is now bouncing her leg up and down, hoping that Scott gets some sort of reprieve from this. “No? How about the adults-only warning from your favorite website you visit every night? Anything?” When Scott doesn’t answer, Coach gives up and goes to retreat back to his desk. “Thank you, McCall, thank you. Thank. You. McCall.” He emphasizes with a slap to his desk. “Thank you for extinguishing any last flicker of hope I have for your generation.” 159. 160. 161.

Fallon looks at Scott, trying to comfort him with a sympathetic smile, but he doesn’t notice. His face simply grows redder and redder and his chest heaves up and down with angry breaths. “You just blew it for everybody,” Coach continues. “Thanks. Next practice, you can start with suicide runs. Unless that’s too much reading.”

Suddenly the monitor stops beeping as rapidly. Fallon glances at it surprised as she watches his heart rate start to go down. Despite all the laughter and snickers from their classmates, it’s actually going down. Fallon and Stiles visibly relax and when they look over to their friend, they see his arm reaching backwards. Allison is holding his hand tightly, rubbing her thumb across the top of it comfortingly. Fallon tilts her head. Maybe Scott was right in a way. Allison is his weakness, but in a way that gives him control. She keeps his anger at bay, keeps him grounded.

When the bell rings, they all could not be happier to get out of there. Scott still looks a bit mortified after everything that happened. Stiles once again grabs Fallon’s bag, carrying it on his shoulder. Allison bids her goodbyes to Scott, heading in the opposite direction the trio is. As soon as they are sure she’s out of ear shot, Fallon smacks his arm, “Dude, it’s her.”

“What do you mean?” He tilts his head, confused by the random statement.

“It’s Allison,” Fallon elaborates while Stiles nods along.

“Remember what you told me about the night of the full moon?” He brings up. “You were thinking about her, right? About protecting her.”

“Okay…” Scott says, still not understanding what they’re getting at.

“Remember the night of the first lacrosse game? You said you could hear her voice out on the field,” Stiles adds, trying to see if he can put it together.

Scott nods with a small smile, “Yeah, I did.”

“Well, that's what brought you back so you could pass the ball and we could score,” Fallon finishes explaining. “And then, after the game, in the locker room, you didn't kill her– at least, not like how you were trying to kill us.” Scott frowns, sending her a pointed look. Fallon huffs, “She’s like your anchor is what I’m saying. She brings you back. No need to get your werewolf panties in a bunch.”

Scott shakes his head at her statement, “No, no, no. But it's not always true, because literally every time I'm kissing her, or-or touching her–”

Fallon’s nose scrunched up in disgust as Stiles cuts him off, “No, that’s not the same. When you’re doing that, you’re just another hormonal teenager thinking about sex, y’know?”

“I really do not want to be having this conversation with you two,” Fallon grumbles uncomfortably, especially when she notices the smirk on Scott’s face. She groans, squeezing her eyes shut, “You’re thinking about it right now, aren’t you?”

He chuckles sheepishly, “Yeah,” he admits. “Sorry.”

“Just don’t ever give me any details on anything you guys do, okay?” Fallon says before shaking off her disgust. “Anyway, back in the classroom when she held your hand, that was different. She may be your weakness per say, but not in the way you originally thought. I think she actually gives you control. You might go feral if she gets hurt, but that’s besides the point. She’s what actually keeps you human.”

“You mean because I love her?”

“Exactly,” Stiles nods.

Fallon’s eyes widen slightly at the sudden admission. She wasn’t expecting Scott to just randomly admit that out loud. He apparently wasn’t expecting himself to say it either, “Did I just say that?” He asks them.

“Yeah,” Fallon smiles softly. “You did.”

Scott gets even more giddy than he already was, readjusting his straps as he continues to profess his love. “I love her.”

Stiles rolls his eyes impatiently, “That’s great! Now moving on–”

“No, no, no, really– I think I’m totally in love with her,” he insists.

“And that's beautiful. Now, before you go off and write a sonnet, can we figure this out, please?” Stiles gesticulates over dramatically. “Because you obviously can't be around her all the time.”

Scott snaps back, refocusing on the task at hand. He nods, “Yeah, yeah, yeah… Sorry. So, what do I do?”

“We don’t know,” the boy huffs, pausing for a moment. “Yet.”

Scott looks at him alarmed, “Oh, no. You’re getting an idea, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…” Stiles smirks.

“Is this idea going to get me in trouble?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Fallon nods, not knowing the specifics of the plan, but knowing Stiles well enough that it’s going to entail some more revenge.

Scott groans, “Is this idea gonna cause me physical pain?”

Stiles nods rapidly, “Yeah, definitely. Come on.”

Fallon crutches along behind the two boys, furrowing her eyebrows as they head out to the parking lot. Stiles looks back at her and she tilts her head, silently asking what his plan is. The boy simply shakes his head, mouthing “just wait.”

Scott looks just as lost as Fallon, “What are we doing?”

“You’ll see. Hold on,” Stiles looks into the distance as if he’s checking something before turning around to instruct Scott. “Okay, stand right there. Do you have your keys?” Scott pulls them out to show him. “Perfect. Hold ‘em up like so,” he demonstrates, lazily holding his arm up in the air. “Now, whatever happens, just think about Allison. Try to find her voice like you did at the game. Got it?”

“Okay…”

“Fallon, my partner in crime, come stand with me please,” Stiles requests and she moves over to him. “Just keep holding it right there…” He summons Fallon to follow him as he sneakily walks over to the black truck behind them. She narrows her eyes as she watches him pull out his own keys. Her jaw drops as Stiles nonchalantly keys the truck before sliding his keys back into his pocket. He taps her shoulder, telling her to call attention to it.

Fallon looks at Scott who’s silently begging her not to do what Stiles is saying. She glances back at Stiles who is just nodding menacingly. “Do it,” he whispers.

She sighs, sending Scott an apologetic look, “Dude! What the hell do you think you're doing to that truck?!” She yells fakely. Stiles has to hold back the mini celebration he wants to have as the owner of said truck turns around.

“What the hell?!” The student yells, approaching Scott who nervously fumbles with his keys. He tries to shake his head, saying it wasn’t him who did it, but the other student clearly isn’t buying it.

“Oh my God!” Fallon shouts, flinching backwards as the guy socks Scott in the face without hesitation.

Stiles grips onto her as Scott tries to fight the guy back, but he’s over powered when the other student’s friends decide to join in. Scott is thrown to the floor, giving the others the upper hand as they drag him backwards. They continue hitting him in the face and kicking his abdomen. Fallon hears the phone beeping once more and she sends Stiles a glare.

“This was your brilliant idea?” She snaps.

“If he just thinks of Allison, it should work!” He defends. His eyes travel back to Scott as Fallon pulls out the phone. His heart rate is spiking once again. “Ahh,” he taps his foot nervously. “Come on. Stay calm. Stay calm.”

Fallon looks over her shoulder, “Is there really no one here to stop this? No teachers? Nothing?” She asks with a scoff.

“Oh, that's not okay.” Stiles winces. 129. 130. 131. “Scott, come on, buddy…”

Fallon feels the need to interfere, but the way Stiles is clutching onto her prevents her from going anywhere. She holds her breath, waiting for this nightmare to be over. She knows Scott will heal from all of this, but it’s still hard for her to watch him get beat up like this.

Out of nowhere, Mr. Harris comes barreling through, barking at the assailants to stop. The brunette girl never thought she would be grateful to see Mr. Harris, but she stands corrected. The other boys run off, leaving Scott on the floor with a bloodied up nose and a decent amount of bruising. Something probably broke, but isn’t visible due to his supernatural healing.

“What do you idiots think you’re doing?” Harris asks harshly, glaring down at Scott through his glasses.

None of them could even bother responding to his insult, the only thing they’re focused on is the fact Scott managed to control his rage. Stiles and Fallon smile at each other.

“He did it.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Detention.

Fallon should’ve assumed that this is where they were going to end up after Mr. Harris caught them outside. She just wished she brought something more entertaining to school today so she could occupy her mind while being stuck here. She has a chair pulled up at the end of Scott and Stiles’ table. The three of them sitting rather dejectedly even though they technically just succeeded in teaching Scott control.

The brunette girl sketches in her notebook, drawing the Beacon Hills woods from memory. Stiles watches her interestedly, leaning forward to look at her work. He tries not to move too far forward as her broken leg rests on his lap for some form of elevation.

“That's really good,” he compliments.

She smiles, “You think so?”

“Yeah,” he nods with a scoff, like she’s stupid for even asking such a question. “Like I would frame that. Y’know, if I had the money to buy a frame… How about I hang it on my fridge?”

Fallon laughs softly, ripping the page out and handing it to him. “Do what makes you happy.”

He grins, carefully putting the drawing in his backpack. The two of them look at Scott who shifts around in his seat. He’s antsy to get out of here. After a moment, he finally speaks to Mr. Harris, “Excuse me, sir?” He gets their teacher’s attention. “Uh, I know it’s detention and all, but, uh… I’m supposed to be at work, and I don’t want to get fired.”

Despite Scott’s polite request, Mr. Harris just grins fakely at the boy, looking back down at the paper he is grading. Fallon shakes her head annoyed. She didn’t understand how someone who hates kids could choose a profession where they sit with them all day.

Scott tries to go back to working on his homework, but can’t stop himself from talking to his friends on the other side of him. “You knew I would heal,” he says, with an almost impressed tone of voice.

“Yep,” Stiles nods. “We both did.”

“So you did that to help me learn?”

“Yep,” he repeats, rubbing his hands together.

“…But partially to punish me.”

“Thought that one was obvious,” Fallon mutters, hitting her pen on the desk to a steady rhythm.

Scott sighs, looking at them sadly, “Guys, you’re my best friends,” he says, regret etched in his eyes. “And I can’t have you both being angry with me.”

Both her and Stiles pause for a moment. Fallon sucks in a deep breath, looking at Scott sincerely, “We’re not angry at you anymore.”

Stiles turns to him, “Look. You have something, Scott, okay? Whether you want it or not, you can do things that nobody else can do. So, that means you don't have a choice anymore– it means you have to do something.”

Scott nods his head, really taking in Stiles’ words. “I know,” he agrees. “And I will.”

“Just next time a car comes barreling at me and Allison, try to give me a five second warning so I can at least try to save myself,” Fallon says lightheartedly.

“There won’t be a next time,” Scott shakes his head. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not again.”

Fallon smiles toothlessly, reaching across the table to grab his hand. Stiles places his on top of theirs, all of them coming to a truce. Mr. Harris watches from afar, his frozen heart slightly touched by the display. He rolls his eyes, “All right, all three of you– out of here,” he gestures towards the door with his head.

The three of them look at him with wide eyes, but nonetheless stand up and start collecting their stuff. For once the boys allow Fallon to carry her own backpack. She wings it over her shoulder and adjusts herself on her crutches before following after them.

“Miss Donovan,” Mr. Harris calls out. She internally screams, not wanting to speak to him more than she has to, especially after what her father said to him on parent-teacher conference night.

She turns, “Yes sir?”

“I hope this shows that I do not hate you, Mr. McCall, or Mr. Stilinski. I meant what I said. I see a potential in you that I… struggle to see within them. Or at least I did,” he concedes. “But if I keep witnessing displays like that,” he refers to their conversation, “then perhaps I can admit where I was wrong. They aren’t all bad.”

Fallon shuffles awkwardly, not knowing how to react to him being kind. “Thank you?” She says it more as a question than statement.

Mr. Harris nods, “And I hope your leg gets better. I’m sorry to hear that happened to you.”

“Yeah…” she nods. “I’m all right though.”

“Well, have a good rest of your day,” he says, suddenly reverting back to his cold demeanor as he looks back down at the worksheets in front of him.

She sighs, heading back towards the door, “You too.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon didn’t even get a chance to get dropped off by Stiles before Scott called them, explaining that Derek showed up to the animal clinic and attacked Deaton. The older werewolf thinks that Scott’s boss may be the Alpha. Hearing that made the girl's blood run cold. She’s spoken to Deaton a couple of times and she never would have guessed him to be the murderous werewolf they’ve been looking for.

Scott requested them to come pick him up because he told Derek to meet them at the school. So Stiles and Fallon did a quick pit stop at his house to grab supplies they’ll need to break into the school and then they quickly go pick up their friend. When the arrive, Scott picks up Fallon, helping her out of the jeep.

They move to the trunk, Stiles glancing around worriedly, “This is a terrible idea.”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott admits.

Fallon furrows her eyebrows, “But we’re still gonna do it…?” She asks incredulously.

“Can you think of something better?” Scott questions a bit harshly.

Stiles shrugs, “Well, personally, I’m a fan of ignoring a problem until eventually it just goes away…”

Scott gives him a deadpan look, “Just make sure we can get inside.”

The headlights from Derek’s Camaro practically blind Fallon as he pulls up. She glances down at her watch. Ten-thirty. She hopes her dad believed her when she said she’d be sleeping over at Stiles’. Noah and him are working the overnight shift so as long as they choose to believe her and Stiles, they should be okay.

“He’s here,” she mumbles to Scott and Stiles.

Scott’s the first one to approach Derek as he smoothly slides out of the driver’s seat. Fallon crutches behind Scott, peeking out from behind his shoulder to look at Derek. “Where’s my boss?” Scott demands darkly.

“He’s in the back,” Derek replies shortly, nodding to the back window of his car.

Fallon glances through the window seeing Deaton tied up and knocked out. She feels bad for the man, even if he is the Alpha, there is no way he's waking up without a creak in his neck. Stiles scoffs, “Oh, well, he looks comfortable,” he comments sarcastically.

Derek shrugs, his suspect’s comfortability not a concern to him in the slightest. Stiles shakes his head in annoyance before waving at Scott to follow him towards the school. Fallon decided to stay outside as she didn’t feel like moving super far with her crutches if she didn’t have to. They tend to dig into her armpits when she walks around excessively. She removes them from under her arms and leans against the Camaro, figuring Derek wouldn’t mind.

“Wait–” Derek calls out, confused as to what they're doing. “Hey. What are you doing?”

Scott turns around, “You said I was linked with the Alpha– I’m gonna see if you’re right,” he replies before finishing his journey to the entrance of the school.

Fallon glances into the window and frowns when she looks at Deaton. She still can’t even fathom that he could be the Alpha. He’s so kind, gentle even. He takes care of animals, he wouldn’t hurt anyone. Not on purpose anyway.

Derek eyes her for a moment before slowly inching closer to her. He points to her leg, “How are you feeling?” His voice was low, gruff—almost like he was forcing himself to ask.

She looks up at him with a shrug, “Okay, I guess. Just a little sore. It’s also really hard to scratch when I have an itch,” she admits. “Not that you needed to know that last part.”

“It’s all right,” he replies, hands buried in his pockets. “Friends can share those details, can’t they?” He lifts an eyebrow, leaning against the car alongside her.

Fallon smiles at him, “Yeah, I guess they can.”

“Have you been taking your pain medication?” He questions curiously.

“Yeah,” she nods. “Actually… I may have forgotten tonight,” she says thoughtfully. “I left my backpack at Stiles’ house. Haven’t exactly had a minute of downtime today to think about it.” She tried to keep her tone light, but she couldn’t help the slight edge of frustration that crept in. She wasn’t used to being this vulnerable, this...weak.

He glowers at her for a moment, “You better take it when you get back there,” he says strictly. “If you’re in pain, it’s only going to slow you down.”

She met his gaze, surprised at the concern lacing his words. It wasn’t like Derek to show he cared—at least, not openly. “I’m not planning on going anywhere fast, Hale.”

Derek huffed, almost like he was amused. Almost. “Good. Because if you do, you’re going to fall flat on your face.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips, despite herself. “Are you offering to catch me if I do?”

He didn’t answer right away, his eyes searching hers for a beat too long. “You wouldn’t need to be caught if you were more careful,” he said finally, his tone firm but lacking its usual bite.

Fallon let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re really bad at this whole comforting thing, you know that?”

“I’m not trying to be comforting,” Derek replied, his eyes flicking back to the school. But his posture had softened just a fraction, his stance less rigid than before.

They fell into silence again, the sounds of the night surrounding them. Fallon shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure on her leg. “So what exactly was your original plan when you were gonna pick up Scott?”

Derek’s jaw tightens, “Teach him control,” he answers.

“Okay, obviously,” she rolls her eyes. “But how?”

“Test him. See what he can handle. Try to help him find a way to ground himself,” he explains briefly. “And if he couldn’t figure it out…”

“Then you’d step in,” she finishes for him. She looks at him, “Would you hurt him?” She wonders softly. “Y’know… if he couldn’t do it.”

He glances at her again, his expression softening just a touch. “If he puts anyone else at risk, yes.”

She nods, appreciating his straightforwardness. It was something she’d come to value in Derek, even if he was rough around the edges. “I can handle myself, you know. A broken leg isn’t going to stop me.”

Derek’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to her leg before meeting hers again. “You shouldn’t have to.”

The words hung between them, heavier than she expected. Fallon felt her chest tighten, the weight of everything they’d been through pressing down on her. But instead of feeling stifled, she felt… understood.

“Thanks, Derek,” she says quietly, her voice sincere.

He gave a short nod, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment before turning back to the school. “Just don’t make a habit of getting hurt,” he muttered, the gruffness back in his voice.

Fallon smiled to herself, leaning back against the car. “No promises.”

All of a sudden, out of nowhere the wimpiest howl Fallon has ever heard echoes over the PA system. Her jaw drops as she fights off the urge to laugh. She couldn’t even think of what to classify that as. It sounded like a cat having gas pains.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Derek winces as if listening to that was physically painful. Truthfully, it was. She normally tries to be an encouraging person, but that was awful. She’s pretty sure her ears would have bled if it had gone on any longer. She silently hopes that Stiles finds some way to inspire Scott to dig deep. Because at this rate, there’s no way the Alpha is coming.

When the second howl comes through, it actually makes the girl jump. This one is deep and powerful. It manages to cause the building to shake, making the doors vibrate with a loud jangle. A surge of fear fills Fallon’s veins as she realizes that this is it. There’s no way the Alpha could ignore that. She’ll have to face him again. Derek can sense the sudden shift in her demeanor. He can smell the chemo signals radiating off of her. Her face remains still, but her insides are twisting in ways they shouldn’t be.

“Hey,” Derek gets her attention. “You’re okay. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he reassures.

She nods, not having the ability to come up with a more witty response. She tries to shake off the overwhelming feeling that something bad is going to happen, but it continues to linger over her. Eventually Scott and Stiles make it out of the school, meeting a very pissed off Derek and a concerned Fallon. “I’m gonna kill both of you,” the elder of them threatens furiously. “What the hell was that? What are you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?”

Scott tries to apologize genuinely, but anyone can see how proud of himself he is. “Sorry… I didn’t know it would be that loud.”

“Yeah,” Stiles scoffs excitedly, “it was loud… And it was awesome…” he finishes in a sing-song voice.

Fallon can’t help but smirk, pushing her growing worries aside. “Gotta admit Scotty, that was impressive.” She stiffens when noticing Derek’s glare, “I mean– not impressive. Not impressive at all,” she clears her throat awkwardly.

Derek looks at her incredulously, “Shut up.”

Her lips form a tight-line. So much for the moment they just shared. Stiles narrows his eyes, “Don’t be such a sour-wolf,” he mocks, pulling Fallon closer to him and Scott. She stumbles slightly, trying to get ahold of her crutches.

“Could you be a bit gentler, please?” She scoffs.

“What’d you do with him?” Scott asks snippily, pointing to Derek’s car which is now open.

“What?” The man’s eyes widen as he turns around. He looks baffled as he sees the backseat is empty. The nervous feeling fills Fallon’s gut again. Deaton was knocked out cold. There’s no way he could just get up and walk out without at least one of them hearing him. “I didn’t do anything,” he tells them.

“He didn’t,” Fallon confirms. “We’ve been talking the whole time.”

However, nothing else can be said as hot blood spurts out of Derek’s mouth and onto Fallon’s face. She stumbles back in shock before screaming loudly. Derek is being lifted in the air, claws belonging to the Alpha ripping straight through his back. His green eyes are wide as he chokes on his own bodily fluids.

Fallon tries to tell herself to move, but her body won’t listen. Staring into the bright red eyes of the creature that invaded her space, who made her feel unsafe, rendered her paralyzed. She can’t even blink as she watches the Alpha chuck Derek across the parking lot into the wall of the school. His body hits the ground with a loud crash. She makes eye contact with the monster as Scott and Stiles pick her up, carrying her into the school. She can’t seem to tear her eyes away from it. Again, the expression it wears is almost mocking. Like it’s silently telling her she’s existing on borrowed time.

She’s only brought back to earth when the doors to the school slam shut, both of the boys setting her on the ground before holding the doors closed. Her eyes still look distant, disturbed. Scott and Stiles share a concerned look, not just for their situation but for their friend who is once again covered in Derek’s blood.

[gege-wondering-around]

Wip Thursday

i'm aware, it is not in fact thursday, but that's all depends on when you read this. thanks for the amazing tag @patolemus and let me know if this feeds you some more (i promise this work is coming out greatly behind the curtains, although i am having an hard time finding time and motivation to write, but i'll make it!)

“Tonight, I’ll make you mine.” Stiles blushed and hid his face in the other’s neck. Denial was gone while his father's body laid lifeless on his mind, pooled in blood the same color of his flattered expression; he felt guilt but unable to resist temptation. He was cold. However, that same temptation caught him off guard when the man made the room empty of any person, somehow commanding so without a word nor a stare, just plain attention directed to his doll and nothing else surrounding them; Stiles wondered what the other had in mind, to make the room so private for them. After that, Derek took it even further and cradled Stiles in his arms, receiving a lock of slim limbs tightening around neck; the smug expression of victory made the boy’s blood boil but he could do nothing about it; even if the man made him so mad about being manhandled without much of a second thought, he could allow it based on the gentle demeanor he knew the man had within himself. Still, it wasn’t over; in a small instance, standing while lifting Stiles as well, Derek began to walk out the room while observing his doll’s soft, rosy cheeks in embarrassment; he was going to remember that night for the rest of his miserable life.  So, carrying him out the decayed cinema once there was not a single soul in the perimeter of the place, the man let his feet touch ground again while opening the car’s door for him and guiding the slender figure in, for then taking the steering wheel and turn on an engine that made the seats shake; the boy was finding out more and more about the courting ways of the man who was bringing him home with such care. The pitch black Camaro of the newest model available was recognizable miles away, both by its stunning lines and its roaring engine galloping on the road; during the drive, Derek would sporadically caress Stiles’ thigh without going to far up between them between shifting gears, making the doll fumble even more for such doings. Which didn’t stop his thin mouth from letting his flirtatious nature out; it was unacceptable to not participate in the small dance they had initiated earlier the day. If the wolf could court him so delightfully with dead heads and exploring hands, he could play the desirable act; it was much to his heart’s content. “You are a concentrated driver, aren’t you, Sir?” Stiles parted his legs widely as the man’s hand remained in place near his knee, while a hand brought his shirt covering his mouth to hide blushing cheeks and humid eyes, not wanting to allow the other the pleasure to have him all in one bite; Derek was going to have to guide him through it, sure, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t trace a small path he was comfortable taking in the meantime.

ahhhhh i hope it was enough to fulfill the duty of the wip challenge! i'm gonna tag @dontcallpanic @patolemus @hellameyers @jadezdominion @seaweed-water @demonicfaerie

and @sterekloverforever @oldefashioned @fuji09 if they wanna join in too! (forgive me, i do not remember i you'll usually participate, but i hope you don't mind <3)

plus, if you are interested, check out ch15 of my longest work so far here

(p.s. if you saw any mistakes, as per usual, you didn't)

[i-am-traveling-the-multifandom]

Ok so, this a full review of Mieczyslaw 'Stiles' Stilinski's name

His real name Mieczyslaw means.

His name literally means "glorious sword". And he is Scott's second in command, dare I say his emissary (minus the magic). He is an extension of Scott and that is exactly what a sword is, an extension of its wielder. He is a human yet one of the most prominent members of the Mccall pack.

As for his last name 'Stilinski',

It literally means stylish. So all this time we all have been calling him 'STYLISH STILES'. This is hilarious. I have never been happier in my entire life.

[usermischief]

♚ Pairing: Sterek ♚ Warnings: — ♚ Words: 907 ♚ Dialogue Prompt: “You're right.” - "I know... about what?" ♚ Mini Fic Roulette: 33/∞

---

Rolling over in the middle of the night to find one side of their bed empty is not unusual, yet Stiles still sits upright with panic when he notices Derek’s absence. Because Derek isn’t the one who leaves the bed in the middle of the night. He is the one who shuffles into the living room or the office to try and coax Stiles back to bed. That’s how their nights are, that’s their routine. Changes from the routine are never a good sign. 

Stiles rubs his eyes, listening to the silence of the night. At first, he doesn’t hear anything other than his heart pounding in his chest then he catches the soft murmur of voices. Derek watching TV in the middle of the night is almost more unnerving than the prospect of someone breaking into their apartment which is probably saying a lot something about him. However, it’s hard to be scared of criminals while living under the same roof as an alpha werewolf. 

Huffing out a breath, Stiles rolls out of bed. Even after years of being together, having to coax Derek back to bed is still very much unchartered territory. But on the rare occasions it happens, Stiles at the very least has an inkling as to what’s going on. Today, however, he has no clue what could possibly keep Derek up at night. There are no monsters causing mayhem in Beacon Hills. Nobody in the pack is in any sort of danger. Everything should be fine. 

But apparently not. 

Stiles tiptoes out of their bedroom and down the short hallway towards the voices coming from the TV. By the sound of it, Derek put on a rerun of Friends. He pushes the door open, not entirely sure what to expect — and he sure didn’t think he’d find a wolf curled up on the couch. “Derek, seriously.” Annoyed, Stiles flicks on the lights in the open-plan kitchen. “Get your filthy paws off my furniture.”

Derek’s ears flick in his direction. He doesn’t move immediately but decides to follow the command after a few seconds of contemplation. Judging by the way he stretches languidly, it seems like he doesn’t have a care in the world. 

If Stiles has woken up in an empty bed for nothing, he’s going to be pissed. He grabs the sweatpants from the backrest of the armchair and tosses them at Derek. “Unwolf and explain yourself, Mister.” His least favorite past-time is forcing his fiance to talk to him about feelings. No matter how long they’re going to be together, Stiles doubts Derek will ever be able to communicate freely about the shit that bothering him. So, occasionally Stiles has to get a little mean to make Derek open up. Cuddles can come after. 

The enormous wolf makes a sound akin to a huff. However, he shifts back into a human — not without a disgruntled rumble though. He still cooperated a lot faster than Stiles expected. Nothing would’ve stopped him from simply staring him down as a wolf, looking adorable as hell. Well, nothing but the knowledge that not even Derek, as emotionally constipated as he might be, is able to out-stubborn Stiles. 

“So?” Stiles asks and switches the TV off. “What’s going on?” 

Derek studies him as he slips into his sweatpants, head slightly cocked in a way that’s reminiscent of an animal. It always takes a few moments to leave his wolf behind. He blinks slowly, once then twice, and flares his nostrils just enough to be noticeable; almost as if he’s trying to figure out how mad Stiles really is — and truth be told, he isn’t mad, just a little frustrated that Derek decided to eat his feelings instead of waking him up. A conclusion his dear fiance clearly came to as well because his shoulders slump and he crosses the distance between them. “You’re right,” he says almost reluctantly before pulling Stiles into a hug. 

“I know.” The response is more instinct than anything else. After all, when is he wrong? Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s waist and squints at him. “About what?” 

“Peter doesn’t have an emergency.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “She’s not going to eat you alive.” His grandmother has always been more bark than bite, but since Stiles is her favorite grandchild, she might be a little bit overprotective. 

“I’m not sure about that,” Derek mutters, and he looks genuinely worried. 

It takes everything in him not to bring Red Riding Hood into this conversation. “Babcia knows you make me happy,” Stiles reminds him, wrapping his arms tightly around Derek’s middle, and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “That’s all she needs to know to approve of our marriage.”  

Derek doesn’t reply immediately, instead, he leans back a little and studies Stiles’ face again. “Am I?” 

“What?” Stiles raises his brows. 

“Am I making you happy?” That question could’ve only come from Derek. They’re engaged, about to be married in three months, and have lived together for the last four years. Still, he questions whether or not Stiles is happy, as if he’s the one burying his emotions under abs of steel. 

After kissing Derek once again, Stiles leans back and sighs. “That depends.” His attempt at keeping his face straight fails almost immediately. He grins slightly and cups Derek’s face. “Are you coming to bed?” 

Laughing softly, Derek hoists him into his arms and carries him back to the bedroom.

[beaconfeels]

Okay playing off @mirrorthoughts last ask:

Thoughts on Alpha werewolf Stiles and his second in command, werewolf Chris Argent? 😉

I HOPE YOU’RE THINKING SHIPPY THOUGHTS BECAUSE I’M THINKING SHIPPY THOUGHTS! Ahem. *smooths down hair*

I love the way this ask is worded because it makes me feel like I can handwave how this situation came to be and just GET TO THE GOOD STUFF.

When I think Chris and Stiles, I think PINING. Second in command werewolf Chris being OUT OF HIS MIND because twitchy kid Stiles Stilinski turned into young but extremely competent alpha, person Chris trusts most in the world, maybe love of Chris’s LIFE, but he can’t fuck this up because they actually have a stable pack, and Beacon Hills is finally not the murder capital of Northern California, and also Stiles wasn’t even born yet when Chris graduated high school. Fuck his life.

Meanwhile Stiles is over here like, he might be the glue that holds the pack together, but Chris is the glue that holds him together. Chris became his second in the early days, back when Chris was still human. He doesn’t really understand how it happened, but Chris became his rock, that solid energy he rests up against when everything feels like it’s spinning out of control. He trusts him, not just with his life, but with helping him make good decisions for the pack, to have his back, to tell him when he’s off the rails.

Derek and Peter had hammered it into him that having a person as his anchor isn’t a good idea, so Stiles has anchored himself to something else but…Chris is still a big part of what keeps him sane and grounded.

Also, turns out when Chris is happy and healthy he not only has bulging werewolf-fueled muscles, he also has a little extra meat on his bones, and a belly that is just a bit soft around the edges and he looks big and solid, and Stiles is OBSESSED with the way he feels small and protected when Chris wraps him in his arms, even though they’re the same height. He’s pretty sure if he could curl up with Chris and sleep for about eleven years, it would fix him.

Chris knows he and Stiles don’t have a typical Alpha and Right Hand relationship. He’s seen how other packs operate, and it’s definitely more of a business relationship than he and Stiles have. He and Stiles are wrapped up in each other in all the ways. Protecting the pack. Protecting each other. Hugs and neck nuzzles and eating meals where they end up still sitting at the table hours later just talking about anything and everything.

Everything he’s read says it shouldn’t work that way, but every time he tries to put some distance between them and act like he’s “supposed to” around his alpha, things fall apart. It’s bad for Stiles. It’s bad for the pack. So fuck the rules. He and his alpha are what they are, and everyone will just have to deal with it. Including himself. Because fuck his life he’s in love with his alpha.

And Stiles decided ages ago that what he has with Chris is enough. Sure, he really really wants to push Chris up against a wall and kiss him senseless before letting Chris take him to bed, but he can live without it. Chris is partner enough, just as things are.

This might have gone on forever if Peter and Derek hadn’t come back for a visit. They watch the alpha and his second in command like they’re a reality show until suddenly one day Peter can’t take it anymore and says “Jesus Christ, you’re not the typical Alpha and Right Hand because you’re mates, you idiots!”

And…

Oh.

[kingofbasicfanfiction]

D. Hale: The Uninvited Guest Chapter 3

Derek tosses Stiles onto the bed before leaping in after him, landing on his hands and knees so as to not crush his mate under his weight. Derek grins at Stiles’ laughter at his antics.

Derek leans his head down and starts heavily kissing Stiles.

They’re both panting when Derek pulls away.

“Lube.” Derek commands.

Stiles nods his head towards the bedside drawer.

Derek reaches over, opens the drawer, and feels around for it. Derek pulls out a black, vibrating dildo. It’s 8 inches long with average thickness. 

Stiles blushes in embarrassment. 

Derek tosses the toy onto the floor behind him and snarls, “I’m bigger.” Derek makes a reminder to toss that vibrator in the trash later. Stiles doesn’t need that little toy anymore. Derek is going to always keep Stiles satisfied with his big dick.

On his second attempt, Derek successfully finds the bottle of lube. He then flips Stiles onto his stomach. 

Derek uncaps the bottle and drizzles some lube on Stiles’ hole. Derek groans as he watches Stiles’ pucker flutter in reaction. Derek uses his thick thumb to work it in and around Stiles’ hole. 

Stiles buries his face in his pillow, muffling his screams of pleasure. Derek gives Stile’ ass a firm yet gentle slap. “None of that, pup. Daddy wants to hear your every cry of pleasure.” Derek growls.

Stiles lifts his head. “Yes… Daddy.” Stiles says, voice broken.

Derek pours more lube in his hand and starts slathering his hard, throbbing member. He pulls back his foreskin, revealing the pre-weeping helmet.

Derek presses his cock head against Stiles’ hole, but doesn’t penetrate him, just teasing his mate. Stiles whimpers, he needs Derek inside him.

Derek continues to rub the head of his cock against Stiles' rim, coating it with his pre. “Who do you belong to, pup?” Derek growls, his dominance saturating every syllable.

Stiles is whimpering and mewling so much that he can’t answer.

Derek growls as he delivers another small slap to Stiles’ ass. “Answer Daddy, pup!” Derek warns.

“I b-belong to you, Daddy.” Stiles obediently responds, his voice cracking in pleasure.

A deep rumble of approval thunders from Derek’s chest, pleased with Stiles submitting to his dominance. “That’s right pup, you belong to Daddy. And Daddy only wants you. No one else!” Derek swears.

With a snap of his hips, Derek sheaths his thick, 11 inches into Stiles’ hole. 

Stiles arches his back and cries in pleasure. He loves how Derek fills him. 

Derek’s faring no better. His breathing has quickened thanks to how Stiles’ passage is deliciously massaging his girth. 

Derek lies down, blanketing Stiles’ body with his much bigger one. Derek rubs his nose against the shell of Stiles’ ear. “You feel that? Hmm? Daddy’s cock is that hard because of you. Mmm, Daddy is going to knot you so good, pup.” Derek huskily promises softly in Stiles’ ear.

Derek starts slowly rolling his hips, languidly fucking Stiles. He slowly pulls his cock half way out and then back in at a snail's pace.

Derek smirks against Stiles’ ear, knowing what he’s doing.

This is torture for Stiles. Stiles wants more. “Daddy, please.” Stiles begs.

“Please what, pup?” Derek talks softly in Stiles' ear.

“Please fuck me.” Stiles pleads.

Derek chuckles, “My silly pup, what do you think Daddy’s doing right now?” he teases.

Stiles shakes his head, “No, I need you to fuck me hard. Prove to me that I belong to you, Daddy.” 

Derek grabs Stiles' chin and turns Stiles’ face towards Derek’s. Derek’s eyes are glowing red, and he’s baring a devilish, toothy grin, showing off his fangs. 

“Don’t forget pup, you asked Daddy to wreck you!” Derek snarls.

Derek releases his grip on Stiles' chin and rears back up. Derek wastes no time, he immediately starts pistoning his hips, fucking Stiles at a ravaging pace.

Stiles arches his back and makes noises of pleasure. He loves when Derek fucks him brutally like this, completely owning him.

Derek grins ferally, knowing he’s the one responsible for giving his mate so much pleasure.

The bed beneath them groans, protesting against the force of Derek’s powerful thrusts. Derek’s hips slam into Stiles’ with a primal and relentless rhythm. The sound of slapping, sweating skin echoes through the bedroom. 

Derek’s big, calloused hands grip Stiles’ shoulders with bruising force, holding his mate in place as he drives his cock, deeper, harder, each thrust more commanding than the last. 

Stiles is moaning and quivering as he endures Derek’s sheer dominance, and Derek loves it.

“That’s it pup, scream for Daddy. Let the whole town hear how good Daddy fucks you. Let them hear that none of them could ever compare to Daddy!” Derek possessively snarls.

Derek’s moves are primal and precise, using his entire body to undulate his hips, every muscle working in tandem to bring Stiles pleasure. Defying all odds, Derek's punishing pace somehow increases.

Every time Derek's fat cock is sheathed inside Stiles, Stiles' velvety and warm passage clamps down on him, making Derek gutturally groan.

The two mates are in perfect harmony, working each other to release.

Stiles wetly cries as Derek’s massive cock alone makes him cum. He releases his load into the sheets beneath him. 

This causes Stiles’ inner muscles to squeeze Derek’s length in the most perfect way, and Derek roars as his knot starts to form. Derek continues pumping his hips while he still can, catching his swelling knot on Stiles’ rim, until his knot is locked behind the ring of muscle. 

Once Derek’s knot has locked them together, Derek’s cock fires off one steamy load after another, filling Stiles' innards with a never-ending river of his cum.

They’re both panting and sweaty. Derek lies back down, blanketing Stiles with his vastly bigger body, shielding Stiles’ presence from the outside world. Derek lies on Stiles in a way where Stiles can still breathe.

Derek is still coming and rolling his hips in small circles. Derek’s knot starts to deflate after twenty minutes but he doesn’t pull out of his mate.

Derek softly asks in Stiles’ ear, “Can we sleep like this, pup? With me completely covering you and my cock inside you? I want to be close to you all night.”

Stiles is tired but listens to Derek’s request and likes what he hears. Stiles sleepy nods.

Derek rubs his beard over the mating bite he gave Stiles, scenting him. “Thank you, pup. And please forgive me for everything.” Derek apologizes again, and he can feel his eyes starting to sting. Derek hates that he could’ve lost his mate tonight, all because of his so-called best friend, well former-best friend now.

Stiles wraps a hand around Derek’s big, hairy wrist. “Derek, I’ve already forgiven you. And I love you. We’ll get through this.” Stiles promises before falling asleep.

Derek slots his face in the nook of Stiles’ neck, before following Stiles to sleep. Before Derek falls asleep he whispers against Stiles’ skin, “What did I do to deserve you?” 

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi! I’m pretty sure it’s deleted but I’d like to know the name. The fic has Derek smelling something sweet around The Hale pack house and not being able to locate it what it is. Jackson is his second in command, the alpha ack is a threat and they’re trying to find a way to destroy them. Derek realises the smell was pregnant!stiles when he, Jackson and Boyd hear the baby’s heartbeat while stiles is making stew.

I don't know it. Does anyone else recognize it?

[infiniteeight8]

ooh, could I get a follow-up to your Never Wanted Any of This steter 'verse? it's really interesting!

Edit: Of course I forgot to link the rest of the mini-series. Oops. Here it is! https://archiveofourown.org/series/4335202

-

Stiles can’t quash a feeling of anticipation as he arrives at the pack meeting. It had been Liam who called it, which makes sense with Scott out of the picture: Liam served as his second in command all through the war. Scott is on a date with Annika; at Stiles’s suggestion, he’s turned his phone off. Stiles honestly hadn’t expected pack business to come up quite so soon, but hey, this is Beacon Hills.

Stiles is the last to arrive: Liam, Malia, Mason, Corey, and even Peter are already seated around the room. “Thanks for coming,” Liam says when Stiles has seated himself. “We’ve got kind of a problem.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Scott?” Corey asks tentatively.

“I tried to call,” Liam says. “But… without his wolf, I really don’t think he can help, anyway.”

“What’s the problem?” Stiles prompts.

Liam takes a long breath. “The Sadler pack have some concerns about the terms we negotiated to end the war. They’re a small pack, so they weren’t consulted during the negotiations, but…”

“Not so small that we can afford to blow them off,” Stiles finishes. He leaves unspoken that the McCall pack is tiny if one doesn’t consider all their alliances. Even the Sadler pack is larger.

“Yeah,” Liam nods. “I offered to hear out their concerns, and they did agree to a meeting, but… Look, they made some pretty pointed comments about how young and inexperienced I am. I didn’t want to play the ‘True Alpha’ card, given Scott’s… condition, so I just smiled and nodded and told them we’d be in touch with a meeting time, but I think we’re in deep trouble if we can’t bring some kind of, I don’t know, weight or clout or something to this meeting.”

Everyone is quiet and uncertain for a minute, trading looks back and forth. Stiles keeps quiet, even though the solution is obvious.

When the silence is getting a hair desperate, Peter speaks up. “Well,” he says. “You do have access to the oldest surviving member of one of the five oldest packs in North America.” Peter spreads his hands. “I know I’m not your favorite person, but my pedigree is very good. And I’m quite familiar with the Sadler pack; they’ll think twice with me at your shoulder.”

Liam considered Peter for a long minute before slowly nodding. “That could work.”

Stiles swallows a smile. Liam would have balked if Peter had suggested he run the meeting. Offering himself as a resource sidesteps that reaction while still putting Peter in a position to direct the encounter.

One step at a time.

[renmackree]

The lost city of Lycosura and it's people was said to have been destroyed by the gods for their rulers Lycaon's sins - but how could a city just disappear without a trace?

A too-stubborn-for-his-own-good museum cartographer Stiles Stilinski dreams of finding the city of Lycosura and finishing the research of his late mother, a famous explorer.

When a journal surfaces, an eccentric billionaire named Gérard Argent funds an expedition to do just that with group of daredevil explorers: Linguist Lydia Martin, Medical Specialist Dr. Scott McCall, Geologist Isaac Lahey, Engeneer Erica Reyes, Démolitions Expert Vernon Boyd, Communications Expert Jackson Whittemore, Weapon Specialist and second in command Allison Argent to her father the leader of them, Commander Chris Argent.

Will they find the secret city of Lycosura?

Spoiler, they do and it goes about as well as you can expect.