#stiles went: you know what? you supernatural freaks are gonna LEARN to appreciate me

[thatrandomblogsays]

Beacon Hills going through another supernatural crisis:

Stiles on a self care vacation staying away from that mess

[when-they-write-stuff]

Well, you're a hot mess (and I'm falling for you)

Written for this moodboard and I totally forgot to finish this, but here we are now! Thank you @fanficmakesmehappy for the permission and amazing moodboard, I had a ton of fun writing this!

~

Stiles was so ready for his first college party.

After surviving werewolves, hunters, literal demons, and a multitude of other supernatural creatures hellbent on killing him and his friends, a party was nothing. He was ready to get drunk under neon lights and forget about his (not so) normal life, thank you very much.

But then Derek Hale showed up.

Stiles knew he’d never escape the supernatural. He didn’t want to, not really. After four long years of running around Beacon Hills from some threat or other, he figured that was just his life now. But he also deserved a break, okay? A break from multi-colored eyes, from fangs and sideburns, from anything that had to do with Derek literal Hale.

Derek Hale, the guy Stiles had been pining after for years. Derek Hale, who he was planning on finally forgetting with lots of drinking, dancing, and whatever else started with a ‘d’ and ended with him pretending the supernatural didn’t exist.

And that was supposed to start tonight; at his first college party. 

Except Derek was such a stalker.

Stiles wondered if he was hallucinating at first. Sure, he got the occasional visit from one packmate or another. Sometimes they stole his clothes, sometimes they just curled around him and refused to leave until morning. But Derek only got in contact when he needed something. Research, a status update, questions about the bestiary.

And Stiles was supposed to be forgetting him, remember? Only, he didn’t know how he was supposed to do that when Derek was standing across the room looking like literal sex on legs.

This really wasn’t fair. The man looked downright sinful underneath the neon lights and why the hell could he never wear jeans that actually fit? It was way too hot in the room for a leather jacket, but Derek was definitely wearing a v-neck underneath and Stiles might have a heart attack if he took any more layers off. In fact, he might have a heart attack anyway.

He had two options, Stiles figured, turning his back toward Derek and gripping his cup tighter. Go over there and chew the asshole out for obvious stalking, or pretend like this was a hallucination and get as drunk as possible. Because Stiles had a plan; drinking, dancing, forgetting.

And you know what? He was so sticking to the plan.

Like a godsend, that came in the form of a blond-haired guy slipping onto the stool at Stiles’s side, a smirk going up to sharp blue eyes.

“Hey, there.”

Stiles was quick to down the rest of his drink, wrinkling his nose at the taste of cheap beer. But anything to give him a bit of an edge on this conversation, right?

The guy smirked when Stiles turned toward him, offering out a hand. “I’m Chet.”

“Stiles.”

“... Stiles?”

“It’s a nickname,” Stiles said, grimacing. He got enough strange looks from his professors to know that he was going to be explaining this to everyone for the rest of his college career. That was one thing he wouldn’t miss about high school. At least there, people had learned to just not ask.

“Weird,” Chet said, looking a little more disinterested. Stiles laughed a little, glancing across the room involuntarily. 

Derek was still staring at him. And now, the man was starting to look a little murderous.

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles said, wrenching his gaze away. He smiled at the other boy, nodding toward the open floor. “You dance?”

Chet studied him for a long moment, then smirked back. Stiles firmly avoided looking in Derek’s direction as the guy grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him off the stool toward the neon flashing lights, a strange pit already forming in his stomach.

It wasn’t excitement, exactly. Or… Stiles wasn’t sure. Maybe it was. Maybe it should be. He swallowed hard and let Chet pull him closer, suddenly wishing he had drunk a bit more.

Or maybe had something stronger.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” Chet said, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “You do know that, right?”

Those words were enough to snap Stiles out of his thoughts. He looked at Chet in surprise, who tilted his head, eyes traveling all the way down Stiles’s body appreciatively.

“Guy like you shouldn’t be sitting at a party alone.”

“I don’t usually do this,” Stiles said, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. Chet tilted his head and Stiles flushed bright red, internally cursing himself. “Parties, dancing. Uh—”

“Well,” Chet said, cutting him off. “I guess I get the privilege of being your first, then.”

Despite everything, despite the intoxicating closeness of guy, Stiles felt his eyes drifting across the room again. Only to realize that Derek was gone. The place he’d been was empty, as if the werewolf had never been around in the first place.

“Hey,” Chet said, catching his chin and guiding his gaze back forward. “Stiles. Eyes on me.”

Stiles nearly pulled away. Because Derek— Derek— he hadn’t imagined the man, had he? That could be typical Stiles, though, he supposed. Getting out to his first party to forget about the fluffy asshole only to imagine he was seeing him everywhere.

“You,” Chet said, kissing him on the neck. “Are so fucking—” another brush of lips— “Hot.”

Drink, dancing, and forgetting. That was the point of tonight.

“My kind of fucking hot.”

“O-okay,” Stiles said, finally tugging away. He offered the guy his best apologetic smile, although he didn’t really feel it. “I’m sorry, man, really. But not tonight.”

Chet’s smile wavered. Stiles chuckled nervously, stepping back.

“I’m just, uh, tired. I should get going.”

“Oh, come on,” Chet said, catching the front of his shirt again. He pulled Stiles close enough that Stiles could feel warm breaths against his face, making him wince. “Stiles. Nobody likes a tease.”

“Okay, dude—”

But Stiles didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before there was a pair of lips crushing against his own. He squeaked in surprise and tried to yank back but before he even could, there was a loud roar and Chet was ripped away from him. 

A loud crash filled the air as the guy went tumbling sideways into the punch table.

The sound of chattered died like someone had fired a gun. Stiles froze, his heart still thudding against his chest, and then he realized it was Derek standing in front of him. Fists clenched, shoulders squared— like a guard dog or something.

Derek Hale. Real and totally here, not just a pining part of Stiles’s stupid brain.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, slowly coming back to reality. The music still played and the lights still flashed, but people were definitely staring now. And when Derek looked over his shoulder, meeting Stiles’s gaze, there was definitely a bit of red in his eyes.

Oh, god.

Stiles laughed nervously, grabbing the man by the jacket and pulling him away from the overturned drinks table. Chet looked like he was in shock, white shirt doused with beer and punch, his face as pale as a sheet.

“O-kay, Sourwolf,” Stiles said, guiding Derek toward the frat house door. His heart was still thudding against his chest and he could feel every eye staring them down. “We’re just gonna go get some fresh air now, okay?”

Stiles managed to get him to the door, but before he could pull him out, Derek pulled away and gave Chet a full-on death glare. The guy whimpered, shying even further into the floor, and Stiles could’ve sworn there was a growl in Derek’s voice when he spoke.

“You ever so much as look in his direction again, I’ll rip your throat out.”

Chet’s eyes rounded and he averted his gaze. Stiles’s heart was in his throat as he pulled Derek out the door, into the fresh night air, and all but slammed the door of the now-silent party at his back.

They barely made it to the sidewalk before Derek was grabbing Stiles by the arms and searching him up and down.

“Dude, dude, dude,” Stiles said, trying to wiggle free. “Stop it, Sourwolf, I’m fine!”

“I should have thrown him harder,” Derek growled. “Maybe out a window.”

“Woah, no,” Stiles said, raising his hands as he finally managed to pull free. “Manslaughter would definitely not be good for any of us, dude. Especially not you.”

Derek scowled, but some of the red was gone from his eyes, at least. Stiles searched him down, his brain still playing slow catch-up to everything that had just happened.

“Dude,” he said. “What the hell was that?”

“What was what.”

“What was— Derek! A simple knee to the nuts would have sufficed! You nearly wolfed out in front of everyone.”

Derek looked at him, face betraying nothing. Though, he didn’t look bothered by that fact. Stiles stared, then rubbed a hand over his face, groaning. 

“Oh my god. What are you doing here anyway?”

“I was in the area.”

Stiles lowered his hand, blinking at the man. “You were in the area?”

“Yes.”

“Derek, you’re never in the freaking area! Not without a text about some stupid thing that you need me to research, anyway. What the hell was that back there? How the hell did you know where I’d be anyway?”

Derek held his gaze, then growled, tearing it away. Stiles stared in shock as the man started down the sidewalk, hands shoved into his pockets. He bit down on his tongue, cursed, and then chased after the werewolf.

“Derek, dude, stop!”

“I was nearby,” Derek said, spinning around. “And— and—”

“And what?”

“And Erica told me you were going to a party!”

Stiles blinked. Faintly, he remembered texting Erica a few outfits to get her professional opinion before he’d left his dorm, but he’d never expected the beta to report back on him. Even in the darkness, Derek’s face was bright red, and Stiles nodded carefully, trying to process that information.

“So?”

“So,” Derek said, glowering. “Clearly, it’s a good thing I was there.”

“Clearly— hey! That’s an asshole move.”

“The guy kissing you when you didn’t want it was an asshole move.”

Stiles swallowed hard, dropping his gaze. For a moment, the silence reigned, the cool air filtering around them, and Stiles shivered.

Then Derek sighed. Before Stiles could even react, the man was slipping off his jacket and wrapping it around his shoulders, easily avoiding Stiles’s surprised stare. The stare didn’t last long though, as Stiles took in the man’s freaking too tight v-neck, and dammit, that so wasn’t fair.

“Dude,” Stiles said, averting his gaze. “Really?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles just flushed, unconsciously pulling the jacket tighter around him.

“Nevermind.”

“Do you,” Derek said hesitantly. “Want to go back inside?”

Stiles looked at him in surprise again. The man didn’t look happy at all about the words that had come out of his mouth, but he just shrugged.

“I can leave, Stiles. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

“Oh my god, Sourwolf,” Stiles said. “Please never apologize for threatening someone like Chet ever again.”

Derek scoffed slightly. Stiles grinned.

“Though, I thought the whole ‘rip your throat out’ thing was our thing.”

One eyebrow raised. Stiles blushed.

“Not like that. Er, you know. In like a sexy threatening Alpha werewolf kind of way.”

“Oh?”

“Shut up,” he said. “Stop smirking.”

“Okay,” Derek said, a hint of a smile still tugging at his lips. And why hadn’t Stiles seen him look like this before? “So, your first college party was a bust. But it’s usually not the only one, you know.”

Stiles blinked. “What?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“You… went to college.”

The man’s face did something strange. “Stiles, you do realize werewolves do things like that too, right?”

“Yeah, uh, yeah,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “I just…”

It was Derek. The words died on his tongue as he eyed the man, some strange emotion forming in his chest again. But this time, he thought it might actually be excitement. Or maybe nerves. Or maybe a mix of both.

“Hey, Derek,” he said carefully. “Take me out?’

The man’s eyes widened. And what had Stiles been telling himself earlier? Drinking, dancing, forgetting. But the last thing he’d expected was to see Derek Hale. All green eyes, too-tight jeans, and a v-neck that was literally the sexiest thing Stiles had somehow ever seen.

Derek Hale.

There was no way he was getting over him tonight.

“Take me somewhere,” Stiles said, heart thudding against his chest. Derek’s eyes sparked a little red.

“Okay.”

-

“So,” Stiles said, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. When Derek had taken him to get streetside hot dogs of all things, Stiles had thought he was joking. But then there they were, sitting in the dark, eating street meat. “Tell me about your college.”

The man glanced over, mouth full. Stiles snorted.

“Where did you go, dude? What was your major? Why have I never heard about this before?”

“I don’t like to advertise my life,” Derek said, swallowing. “But I went to NYU. And got a degree in Engineering.”

Stiles’s blinked. Derek’s ears turned a little red.

“I like fixing cars.”

Stiles huffed, grinning out at the street. It looked like there was a bar or something across from them, music coming from the open door and bright lights dancing out onto the sidewalk.

“You should start your own business or something,” he said thoughtfully. “Fixing up cars.”

Derek snorted. Stiles grinned over at him, elbowing the man.

“Shut up, I’m being serious!”

“Hm.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, sticking the last of his food in his mouth and jumping up. Derek gave him a surprised look as Stiles hauled the man to his feet and started across the street. There was a loud honk and a cab barely swerved to avoid them, making Stiles bark out in laughter.

Derek gave him a slightly terrified, slightly confused look.

Stiles just grinned brighter, stumbling through the door of the lit up the building and pulling Derek with him. And, turning around, he realized it was more of a club than a bar.

Which was even better.

“Okay,” Stiles said, eyes sweeping over the crowded dance floor. “This is so much better than a college party.”

“Stiles—”

“Oh, come on, you big lump,” Stiles said, pulling the man along again. “We’re going dancing.”

Derek made a noise of protest, but Stiles barely heard him. Tugging him into the crowd, he nearly lost the man’s hand in the throng of people twice. The lights flashed, almost blinding, the smell of alcohol hung heavy in the air, and Stiles spun around on the middle of the dance floor to see Derek looking wide-eyed and red-faced, the color going all the way to his ears.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “You ever go dancing at NYU, Sourwolf?”

“Shut up.”

“Because,” Stiles said, stepping closer. “That’s what tonight was supposed to be all about.”

“Stiles, I don’t know if—”

“It’s a necessary college experience,” Stiles said, glancing up at the werewolf. “That’s what I’ve heard anyway.”

Derek’s eyes darted from Stiles’s own, to his lips, then back up. And for a moment, Stiles was almost nervous. Because what if he’d taken tonight one step too far? Oh god, what if he was pulling a Chet?

But then the man pulled Stiles forward by the folds of his jacket and slid closer to where he was obviously welcome. And Stiles smiled brightly at that— he couldn’t help it. 

If he was going to drink and dance with anyone tonight, it was going to be Derek Hale. 

Only Derek Hale.

“I want you to touch me,” Stiles said, guiding the man’s hands down to his hips. Derek’s eyes flashed red and he wrapped an arm around Stiles’s waist, pulling him even closer. 

Stiles exe. almost logged off, but somehow, he still managed to keep his head. Raising his chin, Stiles searched the man’s face, teeth sinking down into his lower lip.

And fuck, if Derek wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Under the ever-changing lights, his eyes were a kaleidoscope of colors. Stiles didn’t often see the Alpha let down his guard, but Derek was open and gentle with his arms wrapped around Stiles’s waist now. And Stiles didn’t know such a tight grip could be so careful when the man held him close, forehead brushing against Stiles’s own.

“Derek,” Stiles whispered, closing his eyes. The man’s breaths were soft and warm against his face. And it so, so different than earlier.

“Fuck, Stiles.”

Stiles’s heart skipped a beat and he huffed a small laugh. “Language, Sourwolf.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He glanced back up, smirking softly. The man searched his face, eyes dropping a little lower again, and before Stiles could stop himself, he was meeting Derek halfway, pressing his lips against the werewolf’s own.

He’d had a few rules going into college. Stay on track. Don’t eat curly fries for dinner every night. And try to move on from Derek Hale.

This was so far from trying but Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to even care.

Because dammit, Derek had been what Stiles had missed the most. Derek had been the one Stiles had always hoped to see when there was a knock on his door. It was Derek, it had always been Derek. And maybe, maybe that was just how it was supposed to be.

Derek kissed him soft, open, and warm. Fingers brushed over the skin above the waistband of Stiles’s jeans, looping through the belt loops and pulling him even closer. And hell, this was better than the stuff of Stiles’s best fantasies. Teenage daydreams when he’d been sixteen and slowly coming to reality with his sexuality.

“Goddammit,” Stiles murmured against his lips. “Fuck, Derek.”

“Language.”

Stiles laughed and kissed him harder, stubble rubbing against his cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead. It was so freaking hot in the club and Derek’s jacket wasn’t helping— except for it, for everything around him smelled like Derek.

Leather, pine, and aftershave. 

Faintly, Stiles realized loved that smell. He loved the fit of Derek pressed up against him. The way the man felt kissing him.

Faintly, he realized he just might be in love with Derek Hale.

Stiles didn’t know what kind of song was playing when they drew apart, heart thudding against his chest. Glancing up, he was almost pleased to see the red in Derek’s eyes, the hunger on his face. Stiles grinned, tilting his head.

“So, Sourwolf. Maybe it is a good thing you showed up after all.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles laughed.

“And maybe, I might just need you to attend other parties at my side in the future. You know, because no one would ever cross a werewolf and what belongs to him.”

The man’s eyes sparked even brighter. Flashes of pure red in the neon lights. Stiles leaned forward and brushed his lips against the man’s again, just barely not making full contact.

“So, Alpha? What do ya say?”

Derek’s grip tightened, and all assumptions of ‘careful’ from earlier went down the drain. Stiles could help the way his heart leaped into his throat as Derek growled, nipping sharply at his lower lip. “Mine.”

“Yeah?”

Derek kissed him again, hard and hungry. Stiles closed his eyes again, drinking in the taste of the man, the feeling of the hands tight around his waist. And yeah, he could be that, he thought. Down the drain with with ‘careful’, down the drain with drinking, forgetting.

Down the drain with almost all things except for a few beginning with the letter ‘d’.

He thought Derek Hale might be a good start.

-

I had a slight idea where I wanted this to go and then it didn't go there at all XD But I'm alright with how it turned out!

(if you enjoy my writing, consider sending a coffee? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

[amylillian22]

Master Plan - Stiles Stilinski Imagine

Requested by Anon: Episode where Stiles got beat up by Gerard, but instead of Lydia visiting him afterwards it's you and you get really concerned and worried 

Word Count: 1,812

Author’s Note: Because I couldn’t come up with the title, I decided to use the title of the episode. 

My Teen Wolf Masterlist

Stiles was lying down on his stomach, resting his head on his pillow, and looking out his bedroom window as he thought about the events that happened tonight. Gerard had him handcuffed and held hostage with Erica and Boyd. At first, Stiles didn’t know what Gerard wanted from him until he admitted he wanted information on Y/N, the banshee in his best friend’s pack. Y/N just recently found out she’s a banshee and didn’t know much about it just yet. Neither did Stiles, but he did research to learn more about banshees and their supernatural powers, which Y/N hadn’t fully developed yet. They were still working out some of the kinks. But even if Stiles knew everything about banshees and what Y/N could do, he wouldn’t have told Gerard. He’d do anything he could to protect her in any way possible.

Stiles’ train of thought was interrupted by a knock on his bedroom door. “Dad, I said I’m fine,” Stiles spoke, thinking his father had come up to check on him for the 10th time tonight.

A few seconds later, another knock rapped against the door. Stiles let out a frustrated sigh before getting out of bed annoyed and walked towards his door. “Come on, Dad. How many times…” Stiles immediately stopped talking once he saw Y/N standing in front of him after he swung the bedroom door open.

“Hi.” Her voice was so soft yet Stiles could hear the slight nervousness behind it.

“Hi.”

“Your father let me in.”

“He did?” He asked slightly confused before realizing why his father would let her in. “Yeah, of course he did.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed together as she looked closely at Stiles. “What happened to your face?”

Stiles’ pointed at the purple bruise just under his left eye. “Oh, uh- Yeah, no, it’s nothing,” he shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine. Do you want to come in?” He opened the door a little wider as Y/N slowly walked in. “How are you doing?”

Y/N bit her bottom lip before letting out a small chuckle. “I should be asking you that. You’re the one with the bruised face.”

“Y/N…” he sighed, “Answer the question.”

She turned away from him as his question brought back all the reasons why she had shown up at his door in the first place, Jackson. He had been killed tonight and she needed someone to talk to. She needed someone to hold her and lend her their shoulder to cry on. For some strange reason, she felt like Stiles was that person. Her chest quickly rose and fell as tears began to form in her eyes. “They won’t let me see him,” she whispered as she sat down on his bed.

Stiles quickly rushed to the bathroom down the hall and came back with a roll of toilet paper. “Sorry, I don’t have any tissues, so um…” He handed her the toilet paper roll.

Y/N let out a small chuckle as she took the roll from his hand. “That’s fine.” She sniffled as she unrolled the paper and blew her nose. Stiles didn’t say a word. He just placed his hand on her knee and watched her carefully; ready to catch her if she was ready to fall. She turned around to look at him. Her eyes began to fill up with tears again as she slowly cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing just underneath his bruise. Stiles flinched. “Who did this to you, Stiles?”

Stiles swallowed hard and looked away from her. He didn’t want to explain what happened tonight. He didn’t want her to feel guilty because he knew she would. He fiddled with the string on his grey sweatpants. She placed her hand on top of his, stopping his nervous tic. He sighed as he turned his hand around and held hers in his, rubbing his thumb against her knuckles.

He opened his mouth to answer her, only to be silenced by his cell phone. Y/N reached over for his phone beside her on the bed and noticed who had texted him. “You have 17 missed messages from Scott.” She held up his cell phone and showed him.

“I know.”

Y/N was sort of surprised. He’s not one to ignore his best friend. Usually, it’s hard to separate the two as they were always joined to the hip. “You’re ignoring him?” She asked confused.

He shook his head. “No. No, not really.”

Y/N let out an annoyed sigh knowing Stiles wasn’t going to talk about what really happened to his face and why he’s ignoring Scott. She stood up and walked over to his dresser. Her eyebrows furrowed together as her eyes scanned the unusual items on top of his dresser. There was jewelry, perfume, and a variety of bath salts. Y/N knew these things didn’t belong to Stiles.

“Why do you have girls’ stuff?” She held up a cute leather bracelet with small heart charm.

“Oh!” Stiles exclaimed as he quickly stood up and walked towards her. “Uh, nothing. It’s just some stuff I bought, you know, for your birthday,” He said looking down at his feet while scratching the back of his neck.

“For me?” She asked surprised.

“Yeah, I just… I kind of didn’t know what to get you, so I just bought you, like, some of stuff.” Y/N gave him a look, one that read ‘that’s not some of stuff.’ Stiles quickly corrected himself, “Okay, like, a lot of stuff. You know, I was gonna return anything that I didn’t give you.”

Y/N loved the gift Stiles had given her for her birthday. She really appreciated the thought behind it, but she had no idea how hard he had worked to give her the perfect birthday present. She couldn’t believe he’d gone to extreme lengths to get her a gift she would love when they had only been friends for less than a year.

Y/N suddenly felt overwhelmed by his sweet and thoughtful gesture and tried to hide the tears escaping from the corner of her eyes as she faked a small smile with a chuckle. She turned around from the dresser and saw another present that was meant for her, a huge 34-inch flat screen TV.

“A flat-screen TV?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

Stiles chuckled. “Yeah, that I’m definitely returning.”

The sound of a ‘bing’ went off, signaling a new text message. Y/N pulled her phone out from her pocket and quickly read the message. “You’re gonna want to read this,” she quickly rushed to Stiles’ side.

Stiles quickly read the text message and took a step back. Jackson wasn’t dead. He was still alive, but Stiles didn’t understand how or why. Y/N saw Stiles’ eyes move back and forth as he thought about something, probably trying to figure out how Jackson was still alive.

“How much do you know about this stuff?” Stiles grabbed her phone and tossed it on his bed, hoping it wouldn’t interrupt them again.

“Pieces,” Y/N sighed, her shoulders dropping in the process. “I’m still figuring out some stuff, but half of it’s like a dream.”

“Yeah, well guess what? The other half is like a freaking nightmare,” Y/N noticed the sudden change in his tone. He was no longer concerned or soft in a caring kind of way. His voice was strict and slightly furious.

Y/N shrugged it off and looked him in the eyes. “I don’t care. I can help him.”

“See, that’s the problem. You don’t care about getting hurt. But you know how I’ll feel? I’ll be devastated. And if you die, I will literally go out of my freakin’ mind. You see, death doesn’t happen to you, Y/N. It happens to everyone around you, okay? To all the people left standing at your funeral, trying to figure out how they’re gonna live the rest of their lives now without you in it? Huh? And look at my face!” Stiles voice rose after each sentence. “Do you have any idea what I went through tonight? To protect you?!”

Y/N stood there frozen, unable to move at the sudden confession. The tears she tried to fight earlier had returned and slid down her flushed cheeks. Stiles realized what he said and took a step back. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I-I didn’t mean-“

“Stiles, what the hell happened to you, and don’t you dare lie to me,” her bottom lip trembled.

“Gerard is what happened,” He answered truthfully.

Y/N closed her eyes, fighting back the unimaginable thoughts of what Gerard had done to Stiles. She shook her head before slowly fluttering her eyes open. “Why? Why didn’t you give him what he wanted?”

“Because he wanted you… I didn’t want him to hurt you. I’d rather get hurt than let him hurt you, Y/N.” She looked into his eyes and they were filled with so many mixed emotions, but one thing was clear to her. He was in love with her. She always had an inkling that he was, but she never noticed just how clear his feelings for her were until this moment.

She took a step forward as her hands rested on his hips before they slowly slid up to his cheeks. She cupped his face gently and pulled him towards her. Her eyes flickered to his lips before looking back into his soft brown eyes. Just before she closed her eyes, Stiles eyes flickered down to her pink lips and closed his eyes as their lips collided. The kiss was soft and sweet, and only lasted for a couple of seconds before Stiles pulled back with a small hiss.

“Sorry,” he quickly apologized. “It’s not because it was bad, because it totally wasn’t. It was actually pretty incredible, but it’s kind of hard to kiss with a bruised lip.”

Y/N let out a small chuckle, relieved it was his bruised lip and not because she was a terrible kisser. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more gentle next time,” she brushed her thumb just under his swollen lip.

“Next time? What about Jackson? I mean I know you two aren’t together anymore but-“

She quickly shook her head. “Stiles, I will always love Jackson, but I’m not in love with him anymore,” she gave him a small smile as she gazed into his soft brown eyes. She noticed a small sparkle in his eyes, almost as if his heart had skipped a beat with her words. “Stiles?”

“Yeah?” He whispered.

“I have to go help Jackson… the voices… my banshee powers… whatever you want to call them… I have to see Jackson. Please,” she whispered.

Stiles sighed. If every bone in her body was telling her she had to save Jackson before it was too late, then he’d let her do whatever she had to do because if she didn’t, Stiles knew she would carry that guilt with her forever. He took her hands in his and held them tight to his chest. “Okay… but only if I can help you. You’re not doing this alone, okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine with that,” She smiled.