#stiles stilinski headcanons

[chosenimagines]

stiles secretly learned how to use a gun and shoot and he got really good at it

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Pet Names Pt 3

Summary: Characters from my Teen Wolf Masterlist & what I think their favorite pet name(s) for Reader would be: (their names are linked to their individual Masterlists) 

[I will forever have a soft spot for Derek]

Derek Hale: Only uses Babe & very rarely. Most of the time he uses your name or nickname. 

[Dis mah main bih doe. God I love Theo]

Theo Raeken: Baby but also Gorgeous. 

[I'm not drooling... you're drooling]

Brett Talbot: Babe 99% but every now & then he pulls out a random off the wall pet name to fuck with you. 

[cute lil' bean]

Liam Dunbar: Such a Honey user. He also uses Babe though. 

[all hail the king of sarcasm & sass]

Stiles Stilinski: Every pet name under the sun. The pack keeps a running tally throughout the week & places bets on which one will get used most. 

Masterlist

[gredandforgeweatherby]

Random Stiles Headcanons of Mine

Stiles was always super warm, like a walking space heater, (his hands were especially warm, oftentimes bordering on clammy.) After void, however, it was the complete opposite. He was always cold and his hands were always FREEZING.

At some point in seasons 1-2, he wore down Danny so much and got him to agree to kiss him. Danny was like "Will you leave me alone if I kiss you?" and Stiles all flustered and not expecting him to say yes just babbled and nodded his head.

Is constantly listening to music.

The NBHD, Arctic Monkeys, All Time Low, and Cage the Elephant are some of his top artists.

Started wearing flannels because he saw a picture of his dad when he was younger wearing flannels and little like 7,8-year-old Stiles was just like "I wanna grow up to be like my dad so I HAVE to wear flannels.

Has def called Melissa 'mom' more than once like come on

Big cuticle picker. Always picking his fingers as like an ADHD/anxiety stim. Just like he's always shaking his leg.

[letteredaurora]

See, you don't understand how much of a whore Derek is for Stiles. How fucking gone he is over this spastic, pale as fuck, beautiful creature. How, once they've started dating, he cannot get over the overwhelming awe he has over Stiles' mind, his tongue, his wit, fuck -his body; how it moves under Derek's fingers, how Stiles mewls lightly when Derek kneads a sore muscle as they lay in bed for no productive reason whatsoever under the sunday sunlight. You don't know how many whimpers Derek has to hold back with his teeth pressed tight into his lower lip when Stiles moves, his thin waist so... grabbable, his lanky frame the most odd mix of fragile yet potent. He could go on and on and on about his suffering with Stiles but nobody will ever GET IT!

[melioristicbeast]

Wanted a cover for my 'I could see Stiles listen to this' playlist and since it can't be a gif - in which case it would have been this one:

- second best was a redraw of the lofi girl although the playlist is probably as far from lofi as you can get LOL

Link to playlist under the cut for those curious:

I've listed the ones I've done art for at the beginning but from there on I've just been adding whenever I came across something from my own liked songs that I could see stiles jam out to. Best on shuffle!

It ended up with so many of my hype favorites hahaha. if you put this on, say 'actually, what would realistically happen in this scenario is...' in the mirror 3 times and open a can of coke, you'll summon a ghostly apparition of me that'll poorly but enthusiastically dance in your kitchen.

[stilesonthehunt]

Shortly after the kanima attack, Stiles creates a tumblr blog that starts posting about supernatural creatures and how to deal with them but then it evolves into step-by-step guides into 'how to stop your werewolf pack mates from killing each other as a human' and 'how to convince your broody growly alpha that your plan is infinitely better than his'. By the time the alpha pack has left, his posts end up being about extremely mundane things he's seen the pack (mainly Derek) do that go against the whole werewolf stereotype

werewolvesarebetterthanpeople: Looked out the window today to see four of my packmates standing around looking worried as our two alphas attempted to treat an injured bunny rabbit

[kjwaikiki]

You know how Eli looks like Stiles. Well I have a headcanon and it is not that Stiles got pregnant through magic.

My headcanon is simply that Eli’s mom looked a lot like Stiles, which could be considered a little mundane until you consider the comedy involved with a stepdad Stiles and Eli being out together in public.

People assume Stiles is Eli’s biological father until one of them corrects said person. I want it to be Eli in which case he can go two ways (both are hilarious)

1. Eli jokes about his dad having a type.

2. Eli jokes about how he always knew his dad and Stiles would get together because look at him (Eli gestures to his own face and then to Stiles) it wasn’t rocket science to figure out the old man was a little hung up on Stiles.

I just think the implications are hilarious. Stiles would never feel insecure ever. If anyone asks him how he remains so secure in his relationship with Derek all he would have to do is gesture to Eli.

All I’m saying is it takes a special type of pining to have a son that looks and acts scarily similar to this one high schooler who you went through multiple brushes with death with, saved their life, had them save your life, and shared many very emotionally charged (possibly tender) moments with.

[patolemus]

Obsessed with the idea that Derek loves hearing Stiles talk, that he could listen to him talk for hours, that he uses the sound of his voice to ground himself and be at peace, that it's his favorite sound in the world. That when someone tells Stiles to shut up he'll growl right in their face and tell them to apologize or get lost (even the pack, they don't get a pass when it comes to Stiles).

I especially can't stop thinking about how, at some point, they'll be alone spending time together, and Stiles will be talking and Derek will be listening, until Stiles shuts himself up because he's so used to people getting annoyed when he talks, and he doesn't want to annoy Derek, but Derek just opens his eyes from where he'd been resting his head on Stiles' lap and asks him why he stopped, he obviously was very excited about the new Iron Man movie, come on, keep going.

And anyways yeah I think they're perfect for each other.

[fclsebnnyodair]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . loser stiles and his out-of-his-league pretty girlfriend.

pairing: stiles stilinski x fem!reader.

summary: when stiles finally asks you to be his girlfriend and you say yes, he can’t believe it —and he’s not the only one. you two come in very different fonts. but, you’re so quick to prove him and his self-deprecation that you like him, fully and shamelessly.

warnings: used of y/n… im sorry. a little fluff? reader being a menace and the end of stiles life (in a good way).

a/n: i tried my best to be funny and make it a little longer. a mother needs to feed her kids. based on this req <3

stiles stilinski had spent a solid seven-teen years being a complete and utter dork. a nerd. a disaster in human form. the kind of guy who could tell you, unprompted, that the fear of long words is called hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia but somehow still couldn’t spell “necessary” on the first try.

he was the guy who tripped over air, made obscure pop culture references no one asked for, and had a deeply unhealthy relationship with sarcasm.

so, naturally, when you—actual goddess, the prettiest face in beacon hills, social butterfly extraordinaire—agreed to date him, stiles was convinced he was being pranked.

“she said yes,” he had told scott the night it happened, voice shaking, hands gripping his best friend’s shoulders like he was trying to transfer the shock through sheer physical contact. “she said yes. to me. like, willingly. no coercion. no hostage situation. just… yes.”

scott, ever the supportive best friend, blinked at him. “huh.”

“what do you mean huh?”

“I just—” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking way too amused. “I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but… dude, that’s y/n.”

exactly.

you weren’t just popular. you are the cool kind of popular. the kind that made people want to be around you instead of just tolerating your presence because of high school hierarchy rules.

you had this effortless confidence, this ability to make everyone feel like they belonged—even stiles, who had spent most of his life on the outskirts of social normalcy.

you are the type of person who could go from hanging out with the lacrosse team and his girlfriends to sitting with the theater kids in the same day, and everyone would be happy to have you there. people gravitated towards you.

meanwhile, stiles had spent most of freshman year trying to convince people that his name was, in fact, not short for “stilton” like the cheese.

It didn’t make sense. and yet, somehow, here they were.

dating you was like winning the lottery, except instead of money, stiles got the incomprehensible love and affection of a literal angel.

which was great.

except for the fact that he had no idea how to be cool enough to keep up with you.

“you’re overthinking it,” you told him one day as you sat in your car, legs propped up on the dashboard.

“I always overthink it,” stiles replied. “It’s literally my defining trait.”

you laughed, and god, that laugh. It was the kind of sound that made people pause, made them turn their heads just to see what could possibly be so funny.

“okay, fine,” you said. “then tell me. what’s running through that giant brain of yours right now?”

stiles exhaled dramatically. “alright, let’s start with the obvious. I am a disaster. you are not a disaster. explain.”

you tilted your head, amused. “you really don’t see it, do you?”

“see what?”

you smirked, leaning in a little closer. “you’re kind of amazing, stiles.”

he blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“you make me laugh,” you continued, like you hadn’t just dropped a bomb on his entire worldview. “like, really laugh. you make things interesting. and you care so much about the people around you. I like that.”

stiles stared at you, brain officially malfunctioning. “uh. are you… are you sure you’re not under some kind of supernatural influence?”

you rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully. “just shut up?”

and just like that, he realized something insane. you actually liked him.

not just in a “haha, he’s fun to have around” way. not in a “pity date” way. not even in a “this is a temporary thing before I move on to someone more worthy” way.

you liked him. dorkiness, sarcasm, ADHD-riddled brain and all.

maybe he wasn’t as out of your league as he thought.

still, he spent the next few weeks in a state of perpetual disbelief.

he kept waiting for the moment where you would realize you had made a grave mistake and move on to someone who, well… had the ability to walk in a straight line without tripping over absolutely nothing.

but you didn’t.

In fact, you made it very clear that you were, for some ungodly reason, into him.

like, full-on, public displays of affection into him.

which was insane.

because now, not only did stiles have to deal with his own confusion, but also the confusion of literally everyone else at beacon hills high.

It started with a completely normal lunch. stiles, scott, lydia, and you were all sitting together, as usual, while he rattled off some extremely important information about why the original ‘star wars’ trilogy was superior to the prequels.

“you just have to accept that Jar Jar Binks was a crime against cinema,” stiles was saying, mid-rant, when he felt a hand casually slip into his.

he froze.

the table went silent.

you, completely unbothered, just kept eating your fries, fingers lazily intertwined with his.

scott immediately stopped chewing. lydia raised an eyebrow. somewhere behind them, he was pretty sure he heard jackson choke on his drink.

stiles, being the mature and composed individual that he was, blurted out, “are you—did you—was that on purpose?”

you gave him a deadpan look. “no, stiles, my hand just accidentally fell into yours.”

scott made a choked sound that was very unhelpful.

“I just—” stiles floundered. “you’re—you want to hold my hand? In front of people?”

you smirked. “what, do you want me to sign a permission slip first?”

lydia rolled her eyes. “stiles, stop acting like you just won the lottery.”

“but I did,” he said, eyes still wide. “this is like if someone found bigfoot, but instead of running away, bigfoot started dating them.”

you snorted and leaned closer, whispering, “you’re an idiot.”

and then—just to completely obliterate stiles’s ability to function—you kissed his cheek.

the cafeteria erupted.

all right, maybe “erupted” was an exaggeration. but scott definitely lost all ability to contain himself, because he burst into uncontrollable laughter, clapping stiles on the back so hard he nearly faceplanted into his lunch tray.

jackson muttered something about how the world was officially broken.

and lydia? lydia just sipped her drink and said, “honestly, this might be the funniest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

stiles, meanwhile, was still sitting there, trying to process the fact that you had just kissed him in front of the entire student body.

“okay,” he breathed. “alright. cool. totally fine.”

you squeezed his hand. “you’re so lucky I can keep up with you.”

“I strongly agree.”

scott shook his head, grinning. “dude. just take the win.”

yeah.

maybe he should.

────୨ৎ────

now stiles had zero business being on the lacrosse team. he was only there because coach finstock occasionally needed a warm body to throw onto the field, and also because scott insisted that he “needed to be included in the team dynamic.”

that was stupid, because stiles was about as useful on the field as a drunk giraffe.

still, here he was, suited up, trying his best to not die.

you were sitting in the stands, chatting with some of the other girls on the cheer squad, but every so often, he caught you watching him.

why on earth would you be looking at him when there were actual athletes running around?

at some point, coach finstock (in a moment of pure insanity) decided to sub stiles in.

naturally, it went horribly.

he got knocked over in under a minute.

hard.

like, wind knocked out of him, stars in his vision hard.

by the time he sat up, still gasping for breath, he vaguely registered that someone was calling his name.

then, suddenly, you were there, pushing past some of the other students on the sidelines, crouching next to him.

“oh my god, are you okay?” you asked, eyes scanning him for any visible injuries.

“you,” stiles wheezed. “just—taking a quick—dirt nap.”

you sighed, shaking your head. “you really shouldn’t be allowed to play this sport.”

“tell that to coach crazy over there,” he muttered.

you rolled your eyes, then—without warning—cupped his face and kissed him.

right there.

on the field.

In front of everyone.

stiles was pretty sure his soul left his body.

by the time you pulled away, he was definitely malfunctioning.

“god,” he managed.

you smirked, brushing some dirt off his jersey. “maybe if I keep doing that, you’ll actually start scoring points.”

scott, who had jogged over at some point, burst out laughing, —again.

“please don’t encourage him,” he told you.

you just shrugged, standing up. “what can I say? I like an underdog.”

stiles, still staring into the middle distance, finally processed what had just happened.

then, very calmly, he said:

“I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m definitely not complaining.”

────୨ৎ────

stiles finally gets it. he gets you. 

It took three months of dating before stiles finally stopped expecting you to give up on him.

because the truth was, you could.

but for some ridiculous, unexplainable reason—

you didn’t want to.

and maybe, just maybe, that was the best part of all.

stiles stilinski had exactly one defense mechanism when faced with overwhelming emotional stimuli:

panic.

pure, unfiltered, high-octane panic.

and you?

you loved it.

you lived for it.

In fact, stiles was about 80% sure that her actual favorite hobby—above reading, music, and being generally awesome—was finding new and creative ways to make him short-circuit.

your weapon of choice?

kissing him.

at random.

without warning.

In the most inconvenient and socially inappropriate moments possible.

────୨ৎ────

stiles was already having a rough day.

coach had made him run extra laps for “being a distraction” (which was not fair, because technically speaking, it was danny who had laughed first).

so there he was, post-practice, dripping in sweat, hair a mess, brain still recovering from almost getting hit in the face with a lacrosse ball, when you materialized out of nowhere.

“hey, loser,” you greeted, leaning against the locker next to his.

stiles jumped about a foot in the air. “jesus—you can’t just sneak up on a guy like that!”

you, completely ignoring him, hummed thoughtfully. “you look cute when you’re sweaty.”

stiles immediately turned red. “I—what—who?”

and before his brain could fully reboot, you leaned in and kissed him.

right there.

In the locker room.

With scott and half the team still standing right there.

stiles froze.

his brain immediately short-circuited.

somewhere in the background, he could hear the distinct sounds of his teammates reacting.

jackson made a disgusted noise.

“seriously? right here?”

danny, ever the neutral observer, just snorted. “I mean, props to her, I do love watching stilinski suffer.”

scott, instead of helping, just shook his head fondly. “dude. just accept it.”

you, for your part, just smirked against stiles’s lips, completely unbothered, and pulled away with a satisfied little hum.

stiles, meanwhile, was still frozen in place.

mouth slightly open.

face burning red.

brain? completely fried.

“did I break you?” you teased, poking his cheek.

stiles let out a strangled sound.

jackson groaned. “oh god, get a room.”

you turned to him, smirking. “jealous?”

jackson scoffed. “not even remotely.”

you shrugged, looping your arm through stiles’s. “good. because I’m not sharing.”

and then you walked off, dragging stiles with you—leaving the entire locker room howling in laughter.

────୨ৎ────

stiles had one sacred rule in life:

the library is a safe space.

the library was for quiet and learning and pretending to do your homework while actually texting scott about supernatural nonsense.

the library was not for being publicly humiliated by your ridiculously hot girlfriend.

unfortunately, you did not respect the sanctity of anything.

stiles was sitting at his usual spot—textbook open, pen in hand, pretending to study—when you slid into the chair next to him.

“hey,” you greeted, voice suspiciously sweet.

stiles narrowed his eyes. “you’re up to something.”

you smiled, all innocent. “me? never.”

he squinted harder. “what do you want?”

you tilted your head. “can’t I just want to spend time with my adorable boyfriend?”

stiles immediately turned red. “I—you—stop that.”

“stop what?”

“being cute,” he hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

you grinned. “make me.”

before stiles could formulate a response, you very casually leaned forward and kissed him.

and not just a quick kiss.

oh, no.

this was a calculated attack.

a slow, lingering kiss, tongue and all—just long enough to completely fry his brain, but not long enough for him to actually do anything about it.

by the time you pulled away, stiles was bright red, gripping the edge of the table like his life depended on it.

“why?” he gasped out.

you shrugged. “felt like it.”

stiles gaped. “we are in library.”

you smiled sweetly. “uh-huh.”

“In a library.”

“yup.”

“where people can see us.”

she leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “I know.”

stiles let out an undignified squeak.

and that was the exact moment lydia martin—who had apparently been sitting three tables away—very loudly shut her book and said, “I’m going home. this is disgusting.”

you just laughed.

stiles, meanwhile, buried his face in his hands.

────୨ৎ────

now, there were rules when it came to dating in front of parents.

rule #1: no PDA.

rule #2: seriously, no PDA.

rule #3: do not test sheriff stilinski’s patience.

you had no regard for any of these rules.

stiles had just walked you to the door, ready to say a very normal, appropriate, and respectful goodbye, when you suddenly grabbed his hoodie, pulled him way too close, and kissed him stupid.

right there.

In his driveway.

where his father could definitely see.

and as if that wasn’t bad enough—

the front door creaked open.

sheriff stilinski cleared his throat.

you pulled away completely unbothered, turned to the sheriff, and grinned.

“good afternoon, mr. stilinski.”

stiles, meanwhile, had stopped breathing.

the sheriff raised an eyebrow. “you trying to kill my son?”

you smirked. “not today.”

and then you smiled—like a menace—patted stiles on the chest, and walked off, leaving him to deal with the aftermath.

the sheriff stared at him.

stiles stared back.

after a long, painful silence, his dad just shook his head and muttered, “unbelievable.”

then, he walked inside—chuckling to himself.

stiles, still standing frozen on the porch, groaned.

you were going to be the death of him.

and, honestly?

he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[chosenimagines]

i think stiles owns a pair of noice cancelling headphones since his mom was dying and when she died he wore them everyday and listen to music so it would be louder than his grief, panic or his dad and not being able to notice anything like the noticing by sound if his dad drinks too much he doesn’t use them anymore because he’s afraid to miss something important since scott has been turned

[elilovesredacted]

Alright, some stiles x witch!longtimebestfriend!reader headcanons

(reader should be GN, though if I make a mistake let me know!)

(that title is long af)

- You guys had been together from diapers, your mothers having been friends for years.

- And once Scott was in the mix, what a trio you were. They were your boys, your best friends.

- When they got picked on, whether for Scott’s asthma or Stiles’ fast talking, you were there to back them up, glaring at their bullies with your hands on your hips.

- Stiles thinks he started to crush on you from then on, and Scott knows he did.

- On the night of Scott’s turning, you had been at home, working on an art piece. Your phone lit up from a text from Stiles, urging you to open your window.

- This lanky guy fell through said window, mind racing as he relayed everything they had seen.

- You sat and listened to him for most of the night. His ramblings were usually ignored or met with some resistance from others, but never you.

- When Scott’s turning began to bring the supernatural to light in Beacon Hills, your own powers began to surface.

- You had been sitting in English class, mindlessly doodling while trying your best to stay focused. Stiles and Scott sat behind you, whispering about their crazy nights, and what to do about Derek.

- Your eyes began to burn, your head pounding. Everyone in the room is silent, but you can hear voices across the campus in your mind.

- Stiles notices. Of course he does, he knows everything about you. His hand reaches forward to touch your shoulder, calling your name softly.

- Before he can touch you, you let out a pained cry, the entire class turning to stare.

- Both the boys stand up and quickly rush you out of the room, Scott trying his best to let the teacher know that you’re going to the nurse.

- They bring you to the locker rooms, your hands gripping your hair as you continue to hear the innermost thoughts of the teens of Beacon Hills.

- Stiles places you on the ground, turning to Scott and asking him to call his mom.

- The poor boy is terrified, rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

- “Come on, Sparks. Talk to me.”

- The nickname came from the time you almost lit your picnic blanket on fire, trying to light candles for a nighttime picnic with them both.

- You stare at him, trying desperately to hear him.

- “S-Stiles..”

- “I’m right here, promise.”

- You try to count the moles on his face, not that you needed to. You knew the number.

- When his voice entered your mind, it was soft, almost like a wave crashing over you.

- Please be okay, please be okay, i’m here, i’m here Y/N, you’re gonna be okay..

- Hearing the panic rising in his mind, your reached out and gripped his hand, tugging him to sit next to you.

- The boy flailed alittle, before wrapping you in his arms and rocking you slowly.

- When you began to hear less and less, you started explaining what had happened, your eyes trying to focus on his.

- “What the hell is going on, Stiles..”

- He held your face gently, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone.

- “I promise you, I will help you figure it out. You’ve got me, and Scott, and we’re gonna be right here.”

- You leaned into his touch before burying your head into his neck, breathing in his cologne and gripping his flannel.

- If you could have seen his face, you’d see how unbelievably excited he was to have you cuddled up with him, his hands shaking lightly as he rubbed your back.

- Whatever journey you were going to go on, he would be with you all the way.

I hope you enjoyed, if you want me to continue this please let me know!

[gredandforgeweatherby]

Stiles Stilinski

Oneshots:

Nothing yet...

Series:

Nothing yet...

Headcanons:

Random Stiles Headcanons

[headcanonforthought]

Teen Wolf Headcanon thing?

When Stiles gets taken away from reality and everyone is trying hard to remember someone they've never met and don't remember, Derek is also feeling the same like 'I am missing something, but I don't know what' As his memory comes back and as he picks up the clues of who Stiles is, to everyone but especially to him. Derek concluded that he and Stiles were dating.

it only makes sense seeing the hearts and kissy-face emojis Stiles sent him. Remembering pinning Stiles against walls, laying on top of each other, Stiles treading water to save him, begging him not to die... Derek is bisexual so he's like, okay those fuckers tried to remove my BOYFREIND from reality.

So when they get Stiles back Derek immediately jumps him, kissing him. Stiles is like, "What the fuck dude" and Derek lays out all the evidence that he found that proves the two of them are lovers. And everyone else is slowly regaining ALL their memories and are like, shaking their heads no. But Stiles is like, "Yeah, kinda un-sung ya know, we never made it official, but yeah, we're dating buddy" And that's how Stiles and Derek actually started dating.

[melioristicbeast]

Creating the content i want to see in the world: more sleepy derek hale :] a wolf burrito. worrito. wolfarrito.

we'll workshop it.

Also to further my Stiles' erratic taste in music (other posts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9) headcanon, he's listening to:

Which is another had-it-on-repeat-for-days kinda song for me, what can I say! it slaps. also recommend Bobby, huge earworm.

[stilesonthehunt]

A few weeks after Derek buys the loft, the pack start making it theirs. Boyd starts hanging out there on the days he's not working, so he and Erica can train with Isaac or catch up on their school work. Scott and Stiles start joining them after lacrosse or when their respective parents are working nights. Soon, it becomes a weekly thing, the five of them gathering at the loft to study or just hang out as Derek flits in and out.

Danny, Allison, and Lydia join one night after hearing Scott and Stiles talk about their new hangout (all of whom are now up to speed about what really happens in Beacon Hills) and their study session quickly evolves into a movie marathon night of the weirdest film combinations in history.

Stiles and Isaac manage to wrangle Derek to join them by the third film, pulling him to sit between them on the couch as Erica and Boyd move to sit on the floor in front of them, leaning back against their legs.

Once everyone's attention is back on the film, Derek subtly takes it all in. The quiet chatter of Stiles and Scott, the comforting presence of Isaac next to him. He'd been trying his best to put some distance between himself and the ever-growing group, knowing that, with the constant threat lingering over Beacon Hills, he couldn't let himself get attached to the idea that he finally had a pack. That his loft, once silent and empty, was almost constantly filled with conversations and laughter and the faint feeling of family. Of home. But he couldn't deny his wolf any longer. Not now that he was surrounded by his friends. His packmates. His family.

Not now that he was finally home.

[patolemus]

I've been thinking the past few days about how, after the scene in s2 where these huge chains fall from Stiles' locker, everyone in school thinks he's either in a gang or into some very deep BSDM, and there's like this tally that goes around where people annotate things they've heard him say and debate over why it points to one or the other.

I mean, someone will hear him say human sacrifices and they'll immediately go 'alright so this guy is roleplaying some very hardcore stuff', but then someone else will hear him say something like we gotta find the bodies and then it's like... maybe not roleplaying?

Werewolf? Depending on the context, it's a code word or the name of a rival gang (his gang??), or like some weird kink no one's sure they want to know much about.

Also, Derek Hale is definitely involved somehow, but this doesn't help clarify whether Stiles is in a gang or if he and Derek are just into some very kinky shit. There's a tally on that, too.