#to go with the alpha werewolf Stiles

[clotpolesonly]

Druid Emissary Scott

[casually-eat-my-soul]

The absolute sheer brilliance that would have been stiles and Lydia being bitchy best friends is super underrated. It’s diabolical/mad scientist friendship that sends people running in fear.

Like instead of falling in love with Lydia because she says something super smart, stiles just squints his eyes and rebuffs her. Bam Frienemies until they commit a crime together and instant best friends/siblings.

Ignore the whole Lydia being a banshee thing, like Lydia getting bite in season one instead and turning into a werewolf and best friend stiles. The dynamic would be unmatched. Her and stiles would have had that shit packed up in under an episode and maybe a half if they stop for coffee.

The only thing I’m not sure of is if Derek would have remained alpha because Lydia could have easily killed Peter herself. (I’m going to go with yes Derek does, as hale puppy pack has a special place in my hearts)

Derek wouldn’t have had the chance to even remotely fail because 1. Lydia knows that stiles is in love with him and refuses to let her best friend date a loser. 2. That is her alpha and she refuses to have a loser as her alpha.

Overprotective Werewolf Lydia and jealous Derek also would have been the funniest dynamic. Werewolf lydia and magic stiles would have been so so good.

[lacythoughts]

'stiles,' he sighs, smashing one cheek into the pillow he was just happily drooling on and his phone to the other. 'there's no such thing as ghosts.'

'derek hale you are a living and breathing alpha werewolf, there is no way you can say with 100% absolute certainty that there are no such thing as ghosts.'

'then how come I just did.'

'derek hale do not get smart with me! what's a little run through the woods at 2 in the morning anyway?'

stiles thinks he would run??? at this time of night? when he has a whole car with 4 wheels and a gas pedal? he snorts, 'no.'

'derek william hale.'

'you saying my full name is not going to get me out of bed, stiles. i was just there two hours ago.' he's absolutely refusing to get out of bed. no. nope. stiles can't make him.

'... please.'

oh fuck.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

read on ao3 HERE

.

He didn't mean to do it. He meant it, with every fucked-up fibre of his being he meant it, but he didn't mean to actually do it. 

Stiles had just—been so very fucking Stiles, in that stupid, irresponsible jump-head-first-into-the fray-on-everybody-else's-behalf kind of way that he has about him, and after the pack had neutralised the danger but everybody's veins still had more adrenaline than blood coursing though them, Derek felt—feels—so fucking livid, and so damn grateful, and so utterly, utterly muddled that he's grabbed Stiles by the shoulders and is pulling the kid's body into his own, hard, crashing their torsos together like a devastating highway collision, arms enveloping Stiles's shoulders as a crushed car bonnet wraps itself around a tree. 

Now—here, at a clearing in the trees on what has been Hale land for generations going back centuries, with Stiles in his space, and his nostrils, and in his fucking head—Derek is terrified. 

There's a fairly stilted, “Whoa, okay, alright, we're doing this, huh, big guy?” but then Stiles is relaxing into the hug. He sort of melts, actually, snaking long and wiry yet surprisingly strong arms around Derek's waist; so very warm, and alive, alive, alive.

“Stiles, you shouldn't have—why do you always have to—you could've fucking died!” he admonishes, although it doesn't come out half as harshly as he means and wants it to. 

Lost, Derek shoves his nose into Stiles's neck, and breathes.

Stiles lets him, because of course he does, cocking his head to the side to accommodate Derek's needs.

“Must be a day that ends in Y, huh, Der?” he answers, ever the class clown.

Derek quietly growls his annoyance and relief in equal measure, and even though he senses the rest of the pack has now gathered around them, and hating that he has an audience for this, he squeezes Stiles into him impossibly more.

Stiles wheezes comically, then jokes more, because humour is his default in any situation. “Why don't you ease up a bit there, buddy? Kinda need this work of art that I call a body in one piece if I'm ever gonna save your wolfy-ass again, oh alpha, my alpha.”

Derek shuts him up with a slick lick to the jugular. The kid shivers beautifully, but even Derek's tongue doesn't keep him quiet for long. Only Stiles Stilinski could ramble incessantly with a werewolf at his throat. 

“Okay, shit, that—ahhhhhhh, that tickles, Fido! Do I need to get the collar and chain on y—oh my fucking god!”

Derek clamps his jaws around the most exquisite throat he's ever seen, smelled, dreamed about, and growls out a warning sound that causes the betas to back off and Stiles to go weak at the knees.

Mine, he thinks loudly.

After a few moments of Derek gnawing on Stiles's throat, once they're alone in the preserve, other than the nocturnal animals and eery sound of the wind picking up from the west, Derek releases his jaws' hold on the sheriff's boy—the boy who runs with wolves; little red riding hoodie; the best human Derek's ever known—and soothes the purpling mark with a lingering press of his lips.

“Oh!” is amazingly all Stiles has got—although Derek can satisfyingly smell Stiles's arousal, his wolf now howling inside of him at the delicious scent.

“Yeah, oh,” he answers, after trying his level best to calm the feral instinct he has to pull them both down into the undergrowth and mate the boy.

He finally pulls away from Stiles, but doesn't release him from his grip entirely. Fire-red irises find big, brown doe eyes, and a smirk that Derek wants to lick right off Stiles's face and replace with a look of pure ecstasy.

“Stop doing stupid things,” he demands.

Begs. 

“Yeah, no, probably never gonna—oomph!” 

Derek kisses Stiles, kisses him like it's the end of the fucking world because he's realised that every time Stiles puts his own life in danger, it feels like it might be.

Stiles doesn't hesitate this time, though. He kisses Derek right back like he gets it.

Now found, Derek takes, and he takes, and he takes.

Stiles kisses like nobody else in existence, Derek is sure of it; he is earth and wind, fire and water.

Fucking elemental. 

When he presumably needs to breathe, Stiles tears his lips away from Derek's—swollen and blood-red—and Derek can't help the whine that escapes his. Their foreheads bump as they both pant, attempting to settle as they shake with post-fight waning nerves and a feverish desire.

Stiles says, “How ‘bout if you keep doing that, I'll get myself a bigger bat?”

Derek both hates and loves the smile that spreads across his face like a rash, entirely of its own volition. 

“How about next time, you just wait for me?” 

“Deal,” Stiles grins and kisses Derek again, and Derek hopes it's the kind of deal that's forever.

.

for @greyhavenisback—love yew, love <3 (unedited, soz!)

.

now edited and on ao3 HERE

[hedwig221b]

Do you by chance have BAMF Stiles recs? I'm reading your stories and all you rec so thank you for being awesome!!

Thank you so much! One wouldn't know by looking at my fics, but I absolutely adore BAMF!Stiles lol. He's a delight!

Daybreak by TheObsidianQuill

"There . . ." Stiles swallowed and looked down at the bottle in his grasp as he slowly swirled the amber liquid inside. "There's really nothing left. For me. Everyone is . . . gone, and it feels like I haven't thought of tomorrow in years." His words rang in the air like a gunshot, he took another heavy drink. "I would trade every last breath I take to just have another shot—not even a guarantee, just a chance to make things right and bring back even one of them."

The pack was gone. He had nothing left. He had no one. With nothing to lose, Stiles puts everything on the line to go back in time to try to prevent the future from becoming his past. Broken, guarded, and haunted by his past, only one overgrown-pup of a wolf seems able to get past his defenses. Changing the future? Easy. Finding a place for himself in the Hale Pack? Impossible.

The Roads Not Followed by SylvieW

Scott decides to leave Beacon HIlls with Allison and her father. Stiles is left alone to deal with the supernatural troubles of his home town, so he turns to Derek.

Years later, Scott’s new pack is threatened, and the only ones who can help them are the Hale pack and Derek’s powerful mate.

Not Your Disney Romance by Wrennefer

After a long-forgotten agreement of an arranged marriage between Derek and the daughter of another pack's alpha resurfaces, Stiles takes it upon himself to become the most amazing fake fiancé that a clueless, desperate alpha werewolf could wish for.

This is Ridiculous by zosofi

There's a unicorn in Beacon Hills. A fricken' unicorn. In fricken' Beacon Hills, California. And it turns out that unicorns aren't drawn towards virgins in a happy-go-lucky let-me-lay-my-not-at-all-metaphorical-horn-in-your-lap way. No. They kill them. And guess who's the only virgin idiotic enough to get sucked into the Beacon Hills supernatural scene? Stiles, that's who.

A Tangled Refuge by wanderingeyre

The Hale House has been rebuilt for the past five years and for all five of those years, it’s been a sanctuary for supernaturals that needed a place to stay, a halfway point, a place to recuperate, or a place to be safe from whatever was on their tail. Word traveled quickly in the small world of the supernatural and now they rarely had to seek out people who needed help. Most came to them.

What Fresh Twilight Bullshit Is This? by isthatbloodonhisshirt

“I am not Bella!” he insisted, shaking his fist angrily at Jackson, as if he’d been the one to suggest he was. “I am not Bella! I am, like, a Jacob, at least!”

Lydia made a noise of debate from his right and he whipped around to look at her.

“What?! What was that sound?!”

“You’re more of a Mike,” she insisted, shrugging neatly and flipping some curls over her shoulder.

“Wha—” Stiles had never been so offended in his life! “I am not! No way! I am a solid Jacob!”

“Mike,” she argued.

“Who’s Mike?” Scott asked.

“Shut up, Scott!” Stiles insisted, pointing a finger at him but still glaring at Lydia.

Came For The Spark, Stayed For The Flame

Derek felt the panic build up in his chest as Jezebel held out a hand. He smelled it before he saw it, because who could forget the scent of what destroyed your life? Fire and spark and smoke curled from Jezebel's hands, and the wood stacked at Stiles' feet flared up.

When Stiles and Derek get bonded as Emissary-and-Alpha, hidden attractions become a lot harder to hide, secrets are kept and secrets are surfaced, and an evil teenage girl is planning even more ritualistic sacrifice. Canon divergence from the end of 3a.

Dangerous by jjmash

There are a lot of things that the pack doesn’t know about Stiles.

Some of it is little things he simply has no reason to mention, like how he almost failed organic chemistry his first semester at Stanford. Some of it is bigger stuff that he just can’t bring himself to think about, like the nightmares that still plague most of his nights and trap him inside his own mind in increasingly horrific ways.

But most importantly, the pack doesn’t know all the ways in which Stiles has transformed during his time away from them. He doesn’t need fangs and claws to be dangerous.

The Person You'd Take a Bullet For (is Behind The Trigger) by SadieHerondale

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, but until he gets Derek back, Stiles' actions are going to be worse than bad. And he will get Derek back, come hell or high water.

Something More Than Human by gatergirl79

Stiles Stilinski has a secret, a huge secret. A secret that will change the way everyone sees him. No, he hasn't been bitten by a werewolf. Stiles Stilinski is the product of a government experiment to create the perfect soldier, a human weapon. As a second generation transgenic, Stiles has been living a normal life with his dad in Beacon Hills, playing the role of klutzy sidekick to his werewolf best friend. All that changes however when Derek saves his life, Stiles finds himself slowly embracing who he really is. - But at what cost?

Red Witch by rootbeer

The red hair of a banshee. The red eyes of an alpha. The red hoodie of a mage. The red of fire burning.

Derek Hale has been a prisoner to the hunters since they burned his family alive. But now someone has come to save him: skinny, defenseless Stiles--147 lbs of skin and fragile bones. Turns out, sarcasm isn't his only weapon.

Oh my (let me look at those eyes) by Gorgeousgreymatter

A few months ago, he might’ve been able to solve this with some force—a little man-handling, a snarl, a glimpse of teeth. But he looks at Stiles’s broken face, knows he’s seen too much horror and blood and evil, the whole Big Bad Wolf routine is just going to fall flat. Because Derek looks at Stiles and he doesn’t carry himself like a teenager anymore. He carries himself like a soldier.

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | possessive Derek | smut | hurt/comfort | magical Stiles | mafia | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | omegaverse

[messylustt]

hii since u said you’d do something for stilinski can i request a fic where the alpha twins were just introduced and stiles and reader (best friends) like each other (everyone in the pack knows but them) and reader thinks stiles doesn’t like her so they start hanging out with the twins more and stiles gets jealous and it’s like a angry love confession and maybe smut?

++ thank u so much for taking the time to read & write this!! your writing is actually making me happy as sappy as that sounds💗💗

you’re my friend, not theirs — stiles stilinski + reader ( teen wolf ) : stiles getting jealous over the blooming friendship between you and the twins.

contents : jealous!stiles. kissing. sorry no actual p in v. i need to watch teen wolf again — that shit was gooood, and thank you so much ur actually so sweettt

"I want one." Lydia said, eyes focused behind you and Allison.

You both turn in your chairs to see the two new twins talking by a bookshelf. "Which one?" Allison asked, turning back. You kept your gaze on the twins, mainly for the fact that they were said—by your strange friend group—to be alphas.

Why they chose to go to school you could only guess. Most likely not to actually enjoy classes, but to keep an eye on said strange friend group.

"The straight one." You answered for Lydia. "I'd hope." You turn back in your chair to see Lydia narrowing her eyes.

You smile, just as Stiles slumps in the free chair beside you. Scott taking one beside Lydia. You glance back around at the twins, tilting your head in a slight observation.

Then you feel a poke on your arm. You turn your head to face Stiles, who is eyeing you with furrowed brows. "What are you looking at?"

"Our new classmates." You say, gazing back.

"You know they're alphas, right?" Stiles asks, making you nod. "Like, deadly...scary alphas?" He re-asks narrowing his eyes, as you chuckle.

"I heard they can shift into...like...one big werewolf." You say, in slight awe.

Stiles scoffs. "It's not that impressive."

"It kind of is." You mutter. Then you hear your seat scraping against the floor as Stiles jolts you around to face away from the twins.

"Do you know the distinction between friends and enemies?" Stiles asks, making you scoff. "Scott, did you know that y/n's rather stupid?" He asks Scott, making you elbow his arm.

"Yeah. She thinks the twins are cool." He continues, as you try to shut him up with your hand.

"I'm not the only one." You say defensively, before gesturing to Lydia, who is still eyeing up the straight twin.

"Well that's...Lydia." Stiles grabs your wrist, removing your hand from his mouth.

"Wow, your reasoning is impeccable, Stiles."

Stiles tilts his head at your sarcasm, the edges of his lips curving up a fraction. You get your wrist out of his grip before looking at Lydia—Allison and Scott caught up in conversation. "It's called having taste, Stiles."

Stiles raises his brows. "Taste?" He nearly exclaims. "Did you get hit in the head?"

"Alright...I'm gonna head to science." You say, ignoring stiles, standing, as the others spare you 'goodbyes'.

Stiles calls to your leaving form. "You have zero taste, y/n. Nada!"

You chuckle as you walk out into the hall. Stiles has been your best friend for almost forever. You enjoyed his jokes and even his incessant sarcasm. But you hated the fact that whenever he smiled butterflies would swarm your stomach. Whenever he would look at you a certain way your cheeks would pinken.

You had to brush it all way, knowing he wouldn't feel the same. And ruining such a long friendship would be horrible. Your mind is caught as you nearly collide with someone.

"Shit— sorry." You say looking up, holding a tighter grip on your notes.

One of the alpha twins stares back at you, a small smirk edging his lips. You quickly take in his appearance and the way he holds himself. "And I'd take it your the...straight one?"

He chuckles before beginning to nod. "Aiden." He introduces.

You nod. "Nice to meet you."

He raises his brows awaiting your own introduction. You go to speak, opening your mouth, but pause, seeming to remember exactly who Aiden is. "Will I be in danger if you know my name?" You whisper ask.

Aiden leans down to whisper back. "You might be safe."

"I might?" You ask, raising your brows.

Aiden smirks. "A pretty face usually makes it far."

Your mouth partly opens in slight shock. "Ha. So, you are a flirt." You straighten up. "Lydia's gonna love you."

"Mm, and what about you?" He asks, brushing a strand of hair away from your shoulder.

You chuckle. "Again—Lydia's gonna love you." You then step around him, walking into your class.

Stiles had seen one of the alpha twins follow you out. And of course, with a narrowed gaze—he followed him. He stopped upon seeing the twin speaking to you. Stiles' grip on the doorway was tight as he watched. A scowl formed as he saw the twin brush your hair over your shoulder, you chuckling about something.

What the hell were you talking about?—Stiles wondered, wishing he had scott's hearing. His stomach had tightened the moment he saw you with him. Hating seeing you smile at the enemy. But it wasn't just for the sake that it was the twin you were talking to. Stiles would feel like it no matter what dude it was. He wanted you to smile at him like that. Not someone else.

When you passed the twin for your class Stiles saw the way he eyed your form before leaving for his own class. Stiles scoffed to himself, glaring holes into the back of the alpha's head. No way was that beast getting you.

A few days had passed and through the halls you had caught yourself talking to the twins. It started off brief, just passing nods and a few hello's. But then you started picking up conversations where you'd left off the next time you'd pass eachother.

Stiles saw as you would wave at them or smile, them cracking a joke or a compliment. On the occasion that he would walk with you, Stiles' expression couldn't be more gloomy. You'd bump his shoulder making a comment on the "glare" he'd mastered, but Stiles' couldn't laugh, only hearing Aiden's compliments on your outfit or hair.

At first he didn't want to acknowledge that he was jealous. Because then he'd have to remember his large crush on you. He had had to push it away, knowing you wouldn't feel the same. You were freinds, and Stiles hid behind that concept, forcing himself to reason his glares to him just being a good friend, not wanting you to date someone like Aiden.

But once the days drew out, you and the twins seeming to grow closer, Stiles finally accepted his jealousy. You were his friend not there's. So, when he saw you smile and blush at a compliment Aiden gave you, he couldn't help himself but grab your wrist and pull you somewhere secluded.

You swiftly turned to face Stiles as you stared at him in confusion. You both are in the boys locker room, it being empty—the laccrosse team not practicing today. "What the hell-"

"What the hell is that?" Stiles cuts you off angrily. You stare at him, brows furrowing.

"What?"

"That." Stiles gestured to the now closed door. "Them. The twins."

"Aiden and Ethan?" You ask.

Stiles scoffs at the first name basis. "Yeah, Aiden and Ethan."

"What about them?" You slowly ask, never really having seen Stiles so mad.

Stiles clenches his jaw, all the past days annoyance bubbling up. "What about them? Really, y/n?"

Your still displaying confusion, as Stiles steps closer. "Why the fuck are you talking to them?"

"You're mad at me becasue I've said hi?"

"Oh, you've said more than hi." Stiles scoffs. "You keep talking with them in the halls as if your the closest of friends."

"Look Stiles, I know you don't like them. And I know they aren't particually saints. But if you spoke to them you'd realise how not in control they are. Deucalion—"

"I don't care for their sobstory, y/n. And you shouldn't either. You barely know them." Stiles has progressively gotten closer, before he's backing away, running his hands through his hair in annoyance. "God." He mutters.

"Stiles." You say, making him meet your gaze. "What is this?" Your tone has stayed calm, not wanting to start an arguement with Stiles of all people. "Are you okay?"

"No, y/n. I'm not." He finally says, fully stepping closer. You slightly stumble back at how swift his movement was. "Why do you want to talk to them?"

"Stiles, they...they're nice. They make me feel good, strangely enough."

"They make you feel good?" Stiles asks, eyeing you.

"They make me laugh. They are quite funny." You mutter, seeing how close Stiles is getting.

"Oh." Stiles chuckles, though the humour is lost. "Aren't they just amazing. Making you laugh and smile. You even blush around Aiden."

Your cheeks begin to redden on embarrassment as you cough. "No, I don't."

"Yeah, you do. And it's really annoying." Stiles says. "You know what else is annoying?" You meet his gaze, pressing your lips together. "The fact that you're blushing for him right now."

You scoff. "I'm not."

You can feel Stiles' breath hit your face. "I really hope that's true."

"Stiles, why are you so angry about this?"

And he cracks. "Because I don't want you to like some rabid wolf, I want you to like me!"

Stiles freezes, processing what he just revealed. Fuck. You stare at him, mouth beginning to open.

"What..." You drift off, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

"I-" Stiles begins, stepping back, shocked and incredibly nervous at his own words. "I didn't-"

"You...like me?" You slowly ask.

Stiles goes to shake his head for fear of your rejection, but then he thinks of Aiden, and switches to a small nod.

Now your shocked, confirmation that his first confession wasn't a slip up. Silence has engulfed the locker room and Stiles can't bear it. "Say something...please."

"I didn't know...you liked me like that." You mutter, your life long crush's words having taken a toll on you.

He couldn't let you date Aiden and now you knew why. But your moments of silence were crushing his heart. He began to step farther away, thinking he just ruined your friendship, when you quickly grabbed his cheeks, and kissed him.

Stiles eyes widened, before they became hooded, the feel of your soft lips making his stomach do somersaults. But then your pulling away far too soon, eyes wide, your own shock at what you just did easily visible.

But Stiles doesn't waste another moment, smashing his lips back to yours. You slightly stumbled back at the force as Stiles began to lick and eat at your lips. He groaned into your mouth when he was able to finally push himself against you, your back hitting a locker.

"Oh, god." Stiles muttered against your lips. "This means you like me back...right?" He asks as he began to kiss your cheek and jaw, leading all the way to your neck, as his hand slipt around your waist.

"No, Stiles." You sarcastically say, making him chuckle against your skin. You grab his face, bringing him back to your face. "Kissing you doesn't mean I like you." You kiss him, your tongues eagerly meeting.

"I'm glad you've picked up my sacrasm." He says, continusously kissing you. "Otherwise that would hurt."

You smile into the kiss, your head buzzing with this reality. You had begun to unbutton his jeans, making his breath hitch, but he quickly grabs your hand, making you meet his gaze in question. "I didn't like hearing that the twins make you feel good." Stiles says, putting your hands over his shoulders, as he lead one of his hands back down.

He unbuttoned your jeans, slipping his hand inside making you grip his shirt. "I want to make you feel good." Stiles kisses you, as he reaches your panties, pushing them aside as he finds your wetness. You jolt when his fingers find your clit. "Much better than them." He whispered as he began to rub your pussy, circling around.

"Christ." You whispered into his neck, before your head hit back against the locker.

Stiles trailed one finger to your hole, pushing inside, making you whimper. "At first I was hurt, because you were my friend not theirs." Stiles said as he pushed another finger inside you making your hips stutter. "But now that doesn't matter, because you can be their freind all you like." Stiles littered kisses along you collerbone and neck. "As long as I can kiss and touch you like this." He grinned against your skin as you moaned, his pace quickening.

"Oh, god— please." You breathe, finding your hand in his hair. You kiss him, letting your lips bruise as he laps at your tongue. Stiles then kisses your cheeks. "You look so cute when you blush."

Your cheeks had heated due to the actions given by Stiles. "I thought you got annoyed when I b-blushed."

Stiles chuckles, curling his fingers inside you. You pant, sweat forming across your forehead. "That's only because you were blushing for Aiden. But now your blushing for me." Stiles smiles. “All for me."

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms

[arlos-warm-drpepper]

When I think Derek Hale I think insecurity. Unstable. Unhinged. Derek Hale.

I don’t think “got his shit together” at all!! So in this Ted talk I will explain why I prefer when authors write him as the insecure one, and Stiles as the secure one.

Derek Hale was 19. Truly he was a kid in charge of a bunch of slightly younger kids. A kid who hadn’t had any responsible adult in his life since he was 15 (16?) y/o. I do not know how you can look at this kid and think “oh yeah he’s got his shit together”

The guy who went around biting teenagers the second he became an alpha with NO hesitation. As if that was a totally rational and responsible decision to make. The guy who fell for any woman who gave him the slightest attention. Even if they were evilness.

Because ultimately Derek just wanted someone. A pack. A family. Whether that was in the form of a bunch of teenage werewolves (teen wolfs full name hurhur) or an evil girlfriend. He just needed SOMEONE. Because he was lonely. He was lonely and insecure and probably felt like everything he touched went wrong. Because it did!!! And he probably hated himself for that. Probably blamed himself for everything. For Paige (even though that was peters fault), for Kate (Kates fault. Grown ass woman), for Boyd and Erica (NOT DEREKS FAULT!!!), for everything. Hell, probably even for Laura. And it doesn’t help that Scott and Stiles ALSO blamed him for Laura at first.

Stiles on the other hand, he was pretty secure. Sure, at first he was a little insecure when Scott had just became a werewolf and he felt a little less-than. But he got over that quickly. Over it enough that he rejected Peters offer for the bite. He was hard headed, stubborn, and smart. And he knew he was smart. He knew what he had, his skills. He trusted his instincts ten times out’ve ten. He was secure with himself. He knew when something was off, and he was persistent in trying to get everyone else to listen to him. Because if everyone just listened to him, they would be fine. Because ten times out’ve ten, he was RIGHT!!! And he knew it!!! And he was secure enough with himself to go after the most popular girl in school, despite her having a boyfriend (which I NEVER even questioned the morals of, because he didn’t. Because he seemed so sure in that decision. Because he was SECURE in himself!!!)

Derek Hale might have been aware that he was beautiful on the outside, but that doesn’t mean he was secure within himself. That man is filled to the brim with guilt. Guilt over things that aren’t even his fault. There’s no way he doesn’t absolutely hate himself.

Stiles might have guilt over void, but he knows that wasn’t him. That he tried everything to stop void. He knows he isn’t a killer, and that everything he’s done has been for the greater good. He is secure in every decision he makes. And I know that because that’s practically what he told Scott. Some people are human, some people have to get their hands a little dirty sometimes. He knows that. He is secure in that thought process.

Stiles Stilinski is secure, hard headed, persistent. Derek Hale is insecure, unstable, and uncertain. These are facts. So why are you all writing it the opposite???? I don’t want it the opposite. I want Derek to be pathetic and wet. I want Stiles to be fucking confident, assured, SOLID. Because that’s what Derek needs. He needs someone solid, because he hasn’t had that since he was 15. He deserves that.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

I found I enjoy the Stiles is best friends with Laura Hale dynamic. Do you have any recommendations?

Hi anon! @kevaaronday made this list for you.

Burn with hellfire in the blue light of midnight by babisays (20/20 | 203,189 | Teen | Sterek) Stiles met the Hale siblings when he was eleven years old. Now it has been six years since he lost his best friend Cora in the fire, and Derek and Laura left Beacon Hills.

Six years was a long time, so he didn't think he would ever see them again, but now he was wondering what the hell was Derek Hale doing back in Beacon Hills.

How We Serve by GrimReaperlover11 (16/16 | 53,280 | Not Rated | Sterek) Stiles is selected to become the servant to Prince Derek Hale.. however his new master gives off total 'Ima rip your throat out, with my teeth' vibes...maybe its a werewolf thing. Nonetheless Stiles hopes he can survive his new life

Sacrifice (Whatever It Takes) by adara, Swlffangirl (7/7 | 38,519 | Teen | Sterek) In which Laura lives, the Hale Pack grows, and Derek finds a peace that he'd never thought could be his. It doesn't come easy, because when does anything ever, but they've got a real shot at it for the first time since before the fire that stole their family and sent their whole lives up in smoke.

My Sister’s Boyfriend by Niecy8 (14/14 | 36,297 | Mature | Sterek) Derek loves his sister very much and is looking forward to seeing her since they haven't seen each other in a while. However, he's not thrilled that she is bringing home her new boyfriend - someone they know zero about. He will be nice but what he didn't expect was how attractive he would be.

Stiles will do anything for Laura. She's his best friend and like an older sister to him. However, this has to be the worst idea she has ever had - pretending to date one another? No one will believe it and it becomes increasingly harder to play the part when he meets her gorgeous brother. 

Or two idiots slowly falling in love with each other with Laura playing a hand in it.

The Ghost of You (It Keeps Me Awake) by StaceyMarie123 (1/1 | 21,477 | Teen | Sterek) She took each step slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal that might spook any second.

“You can see me?” she asked, and her voice was higher pitched that he’d expected. It was a complete and utter marvel that Stiles hadn’t keeled over from shock yet.

He nodded and her face broke into a huge grin.

She had bunny teeth, just like her brother.

…

Or: the one where Stiles accidentally develops the power to see and communicate with ghosts, and there seems to be someone haunting their favourite grumpy alpha.

Samhain by nightlight9 (1/1 | 20,135 | Teen | Sterek) The ghost of Talia Hale has been showing up in Stiles’ bedroom on the night of Halloween for years. Normally their conversations are pretty normal. But when she shows up screaming about how her daughter is going to be killed, Stiles knows that he’ll do anything to prevent that from happening.

Platonic Absolutes by sparkandwolf (1/1 | 7,362 | Gen | Sterek) When Stiles first met Laura, there was no doubt in his mind that their soul bond wasn’t meant to be anything but platonic. He had heard of that happening, that the marks on a person’s body could mean they had a soulmate by any meaning of the word, and was momentarily disappointed that his meant a lifetime best friend. 

Then he realized that Laura was the most incredible woman he had ever met. If it wasn’t for the fact she was very, very, gay, he would’ve fallen in love with her the moment she barged into his life.

A Death Omen Too Strong to Stomp Out by one-fandom-became-all-fandoms (1/1 | 6,668 | Mature | Sterek) The dream had haunted him for nearly a year since moving to New York. With no friends but his therapist to confide in, Stiles raced to figure out what the wintry orchard had to do with saving a life. Accompanied by a mysterious stranger, Derek, Stiles may unravel his psyche before it's too late.

love and soulmates by EvanesDust (1/1 | 1,747 | Teen | Sterek) Derek watched as Stiles looped an arm around Laura’s waist and laid his head on her shoulder.

“Aw, Laur, don’t be like that. You know we’re soulmates…” 

Soulmates? And just like that, Derek’s heart broke. Laura brought home Stiles--perfect and delectable and entirely Derek’s type. Fuck his life because, of course, Stiles would be in love with Laura.

AND

@littlekittio reminded me of this fantastic fic.

Fireman Derek's Crazy Pie [Cheeseburger Baby] by owlpostagain

(1/1 I 17,698 I Teen)

“He can't blame me for the fact that I live in a building full of people united in the singular effort to ogle Hot Fireman as often as humanly possible."

Laura laughs, loud and echoing in the empty restaurant.

"Hot firemen can make a girl do crazy things," she agrees, nodding towards her brother's name on the menu. "Derek won't let me date anyone from his company, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the eye candy."

"Send them my way," Stiles suggests, finally loading up a forkful of pie. "Apparently I'm incompetent enough that I need to be babysat at all times, because it would be cheaper than dispatching a truck every time I try to use a kitchen appliance."

AND AND

@idoobeg suggested these!

The Cool Kids by thankyouforexisting

(1/1 I 14,375 I Teen I Sterek)

Laura was four when her parents brought home a baby. [...] The next day, she grabbed a basket and put her brother in it. The four month old baby blinked sleepily at her, and she grinned, “Hey, brother. This is for my own good,” she’d heard something like that yesterday at the movies, and it sounded cool. She carried the basket into the Preserve, taking care not to wake her sleeping parents, and walked for a while before setting it gently on the ground. “Animals of the forests!” she cried, “This is my offering to you! Take this baby in exchange for my family’s safety!” // Laura has tried to abandon her siblings 13 times (each), has convinced Scott that life isn't real in 8 occasions, and she's made her parents wish they'd stayed childless about 1000 times, but not really. A story in which little Laura grows up, and learns.

I Hate You a Little, a Lot, Passionately, Not at All by YouRunWithTheWolves

(6/6 I 26,083 I Explicit I Sterek)

Laura has a brother. He's a dick. So Laura gets herself a best friend.

He's also a dick.

or, Laura finds a new roommate to replace Isaac and Derek is ecstatic.

[sourmiguel]

i need a Stiles got bit sterek fic.

or

Stiles being so in love with Derek and Derek being oblivious and not knowing why Stiles’ heart races when he sees Derek.

either works.

Here's my favorite Stiles got bit fic:

Choice by Omni (wc8613, teen)

Summary: Derek knows what it feels like to not really have a choice, what it’s like to be manipulated. He’d never take away someone’s right to choose freely. The fear of even accidentally doing so is enough to hold him back from acting on his own feelings. Stiles has never had a problem making his own choices, and fuck anyone who would try to tell him he can’t. (Or: Stiles gets bitten by a different alpha, but of course would prefer to have Derek as his alpha. And also just, you know, have Derek.)

This one is also a good one:

Throw Me to the Wolves by @pantstomatch (wc13493, teen)

Summary: He feels the physical embodiment of devastated, his already too strung-out mind struggling to wall up all the hurt, the rejection—he takes a deep shuddering breath and looks down at the shredded skin on his arms, at the sluggish way they’re weakly healing. There is nothing, nothing he wants more than to have Derek sweep in and make everything all better. He should have known, though, that something like that would never happen to him. OR - Stiles accidentally gets bitten, and everything goes to hell.

And then this is an epic, if you haven't read it:

I Was a Teenage Werewolf by @halehathnofury-blog (wc456244, explicit)

Summary: Stiles just knows he’s going to get lost in the woods. There must be a Laura Palmer reference in there somewhere. A fork in the road retelling of Teen Wolf where Stiles is the one to get bitten.

Hope you like those! :)

[ellswritings]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Derek Hale x Reader

TW: Mentions of blood and death, werewolfy things, Stiles being an absolute spaz, age gap, Jennifer Blake (cause she’s a warning on her own), major feels, and a tiny bit of angst, some bad words. I think that it y’all. Once again, let me know if I missed something!

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

There have always been two constants in Y/N L/N life when it came to living in Beacon Hills, life threatening creatures and the possibility of her imminent death. When she became friends with Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall in Kindergarten, she wasn’t completely aware of what she signed up for. Most people would think the constant Star Wars marathons with Stiles and lacrosse training with Scott would’ve drove her away early on, but she stayed. Not that they’d let her leave even if she tried. Having them as her best friends has always been a blessing and a curse. She would do anything for them, but she didn’t know anything included becoming a supernatural creature.

A werewolf to be precise.

The night of the dance their sophomore year, Y/N had seen Lydia walk out of the dance in which she assumed was in search of Jackson. But when she saw the blonde boy lingering in the hallways, she had a feeling something was off. When she went in search of the girl and found her at the lacrosse field, there was no escaping their inevitable fate. That was one of the many times Y/N thought she’d meet her end. Watching Peter Hale run towards them at fully speed before taking a nice bite out of their skin was not on her bucket list for the evening.

Since then there have been plenty adventures for the “McCall Pack” as she’d like to call it. Allison’s grandfather Gerard coming to town, the Kanima, Derek and his pack trying to kill Lydia, then finding out it was Jackson, only to have him turn into a werewolf and run off to London. There might have been a couple kidnappings and restraining order somewhere in there, but those are minor details.

And, of course, with a new year comes new threats. There has been a recent string of kidnappings that turned into murders that none of them have been able to solve yet. They’ve tried as a group to brainstorm, meeting at Derek’s new loft every so often to get the entire groups opinion, but nothing has come out of it. Well, besides spending extra time with the Alpha. That’s an aspect Y/N didn’t mind in the slightest.

She had no issues making herself at home in his loft, despite his halfhearted protests. No one could understand how Y/N had the ability to just throw her feet up on his coffee table and not get her throat ripped out. It’s either she has no regard for her life, or Derek has a soft spot for her which is something no one saw coming.

The two have always had an interesting relationship. Y/N enjoys arguing, similar to Stiles hence why they get along so well. She loves getting under Derek’s skin and pushing every button she knows he has. It’s almost as if she goes out of her way to try and get a reaction out of him. No one blames her really, it gets entertaining hearing them go at it. Especially for Stiles.

Whenever anyone needs to ask Derek for a favor, the first person they send his way is Y/N. For one, they’ve only ever heard the word “yes” come out of his mouth when talking to her, and she’s the most likely one not to flinch if she has to kill him. She has a conscious, it’s just not always active.

Y/N rides up to Beacon Hills High on her motorcycle before parking in the thin spot near the bike rack. She carefully takes off her helmet, smoothing down any stray pieces of hair that might’ve fallen out of place. She had been told to go to Derek’s the night before to ask him if he’s found anything out about their new lethal friend, the only issue is when she got there, she could hear her new teacher Jennifer Blake in the apartment with him. She felt the urge to completely kick the door down and interrupt whatever conversation was happening, but she practiced a high level of self-restraint. She knew Derek was aware of her being there. He could smell her the same way she could him. But the hot white rage that filled Y/N’s chest forced her to walk away and ride angrily back to Stiles’s place.

Scott and Stiles watch their friend from the steps at the entrance to the school. Her ever present frown is a little troubling as it is much more prominent than usual. They didn’t get the full details about what angered her so much the night before, but it’s clearly still bothering her. She takes the keys out of her bike before stomping up to them. When she notices them staring at her, she lifts an eyebrow, “Something you wanna say?” She challenges. Both boys look at each other and simultaneously shoot her a fake smile.

“You– you look nice today,” Stiles comments awkwardly as he rubs the back of his neck. “Did you uh– did you do something new with your hair?”

Y/N stared at him blankly while Scott mentally facepalms at his friends attempt at covering up their concern. She simply shakes her head, looping her arms through both of theirs. “I’m fine if that’s what you guys are wondering. Derek was busy last night so I just came back to the house. That’s it,” she explains shortly, leaving no room for questions.

Scott scrunches his nose and a look of realization dawns on his face. It quickly morphs into disgust the more he thinks about it and Stiles furrows his eyebrows curiously. He looks over Y/N’s head and waits for his other best friend to clue him in on what’s got him all bothered. Scott makes sure Y/N’s more focused on weaving through the crowd before mouthing “She’s jealous” over to Stiles.

“I’m gonna grab my notebook real quick,” she tells them. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as she reaches her locker, Stiles leans over to attempt a discreet conversation with Scott. “What do you mean she’s jealous?” He asks in a whisper. “Jealous of what?”

“I don’t know,” Scott answers, watching Y/N carefully. “But I’m assuming it had something to do with what happened at Derek’s last night.”

“Why would she be jealous over something with Derek?” Stiles scoffs, his eyebrows furrowed.

Scott shoots him a pointed look. Stiles is an absolute genius when it comes to certain topics, but girls and social cues are not one of them. His jaw drops slightly when he realizes what Scott’s implying. He rapidly shakes his head, flailing his arms in the air. “No– no, uh-uh. There’s no way. Absolutely not.”

“It’s not like you can stop it,” Scott chuckles. “If she likes him, she likes him.”

“Oh God,” Stiles groans disgustedly. “Out of all people? Sourwolf? Really?”

Scott shrugs with an amused smile as Y/N turns to start walking back, “The heart wants what the heart wants.”

“Okay, but does it have to want him?” Stiles continues to complain. “And if she’s jealous that means there was someone else there last night. Who? Because last I checked, Derek is a very acquired taste.”

“How would I know?” Scott replies. “Now shut up before she realizes we’re talking about her.”

The three of them made a pact awhile back that they wouldn’t eavesdrop on each other’s private conversations unless they were in danger. So they knew it would be safe to have said discussion despite Y/N’s enhanced hearing.

“You guys ready?” She asks.

Both nod vigorously, trying to hide their gossip, but their desperation to seem normal gives them away. Y/N simply rolls her eyes and says nothing. She once again links their arms together as they head towards their English class. No one needs werewolf senses to see how tense and angry Y/N got at the sight of Ms. Blake. The fury behind her eyes is one everyone in the pack has had to face at one point or another. Scott vividly remembers those eyes when Issac stole the last piece of her banana bread from when they went to the bakery they all love, and she threw him clear across his house.

Y/N separates herself from the boys, taking her spot next to Alison and Lydia while the boys sit down behind them. It’s a miracle how they all ended up in the same class. Y/N opens up her notebook, choosing to doodle rather than pay attention to whatever Ms. Blake is writing on the whit board in front of them. Alison looks at Y/N’s drawing with curiosity and smiles, “That’s really good,” she compliments.

It’s her beginning sketch to one of her favorite book characters, Sirius Black from Harry Potter. Y/N tries to muster a genuine grin, “Thanks,” she replies.

Alison isn’t clueless though. She can feel the difference in Y/N’s attitude from how she acts on a regular basis. She squints her eyes trying to silently figure it out before turning back to Scott who already knows what she’s wondering. What all of them were wondering. Who got Y/N so riled up? They know she’s jealous of something that happened with Derek, but who could she be jealous of?

“Alright, good morning everyone!” Jennifer greets with a smile that makes Y/N’s blood boil. She brings a hand up to play with her helix piercing to prevent her claws which will no doubt make an appearance by the end of this class. “Today, we're going to delve deeper into Shakespeare's Othello. I want you to focus on the themes of jealousy and manipulation that are littered throughout the text.”

Y/N’s eyes narrow on her teacher. The word “jealousy” feeling like a direct hit on their current situation. She cracks her neck before flipping to the page in their text book. She slouches in her chair, leg bouncing up and down. She quickly begins to run out of patience hearing the teachers heels click every time she takes a step.

“Y/N,” Jennifer calls out. “Why don’t you go ahead and start us off by reading the first paragraph?”

The grip Y/N has on her pencil tightens. There it is. Scott can not only smell it, but he can see it with his own eyes. The tension is more than palpable. Jennifer was the one at Derek’s last night. Y/N tilts her head, “Why can’t someone else do it?” She deflects coldly. “Lydia for example is quite the fan of our troubled poet.”

The challenge in her voice makes Jennifer hold back her own glare. She should’ve known Y/N would be the student to give her trouble from the beginning. The class shifts uncomfortably from the sudden chill in the air. “Y/N, it’s important for everyone to participate. Please, read the passage,” she requests with forced patience.

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that,” the (h/c) haired girl answers, folding her hands together as she leans on the desk. “I have crippling anxiety when it comes to reading in front of people. You wouldn’t want to do something to cause a breakdown would you?” She asks in the most taunting voice possible.

Lydia and Alison both stare at their friend with confusion. Stiles has to sink low in his chair to hide the inevitable laughter that’s about to come out of his mouth. While Scott just covers his face with his hands, waiting for World War Y/N to take place in his English class.

Jennifer quirks an eyebrow, “Did you not just do the school play of Beauty and the Beast last month? Where you played Belle? The lead role?”

Silence.

“That’s different, Ms. Blake,” Y/N corrects. “Not that I’d expect you to understand, but playing a character and who I am in real life is completely separate.”

“Well, that’s perfect then,” she nods. “Why don’t you go ahead and read it in character for us?”

A strong scent of copper fills Scott’s nose. He glances down and sees Y/N’s claws dug deep into her thigh. Stiles notices Scott’s wide eyes and glances where he’s looking. When he sees the wide open wound his face turns pale white before he shuffles in his chair.

“What a fantastic idea,” Y/N quips sarcastically before glancing down at the page below her. As she begins to read, the passive aggressiveness in her tone is evident. “O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on."

Her eyes lock with Jennifer's, and she can't help but add, under her breath but loud enough for her friends to pick up on, "How fitting"

Jennifer's expression hardens, but she maintains her composure. She leans on her desk while looking Y/N in the eye, “I would like a word with you after class Miss L/N,” she says coolly before continuing on with her lesson.

The glare on Y/N’s face never fades. She burns holes into the back of Jennifer’s head. Scott grew increasingly more worried that her eyes would flash, giving away her secret for all to see. All four of her friends exchange worried glances. Y/N’s never really been one to get in trouble on her own accord. She’s gotten detention, but ninety percent of the times it’s because Scott and Stiles roped her into it. The boys take it upon themselves to text Lydia and Alison, informing them of their theory of what is causing Y/N’s sudden aggression.

Lydia purses her lips together as she reads the texts. She leans back to whisper to Stiles, “This should be interesting…”

The rest of the class drags on, time ticking fairly slow. Y/N doesn’t say much, but the nasty looks she shoots cut more deeply than any words ever could. Halfway through the period, Stiles places his hand on her back to help keep her calm, which she wouldn’t admit, helped a lot. When the bell finally rings, the students begin to file out. Y/N stays behind, her anger barely contained. Scott, Stiles, Alison, and Lydia linger outside the door, trying to listen in on the upcoming confrontation.

Y/N rolls her eyes as she slings her bag over her shoulder. She approaches Jennifer’s desk with a sickly sweet smile. The teacher doesn’t buy it though. “Y/N, what is going on with you today?” She questions firmly, feigning concern for the younger girl.

Y/N shakes her head, producing the most innocent face she could. “Going on with me? Nothing at all, Miss Blake. I am doing just dandy. Why do you ask?"

Jennifer bites the inside of her cheek, narrowing her eyes, but she manages to keep her tone measured. "Your behavior today has been disruptive and disrespectful. You are a talented and well-read young woman. I expected more from you."

Y/N chuckles, leaning more of her weight on her left side, popping her hip to show just how much she truly cares about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do, given your high standards and all. It must be exhausting to keep up appearances,” she comments with a deceptive charm.

The older woman’s nostrils flare, knowing exactly what she’s trying to get at. Of course this is what her behavior is all about. Jennifer takes a deep breath, “Y/N, your comments today were out of line. This isn’t about keeping up appearances, it’s about maintaining respect in the classroom."

Y/N walks closer to her desk with a sly smile. She traces her finger up the wood, rubbing the dust in between her fingers. “Respect? Funny you should mention that. It seems respect is a bit... selective around here."

Jennifer's patience finally snaps, though she tries to mask it with a strained smile. “Y/N, your insinuations are inappropriate. Whatever issues you think exist, this isn't the place to air them."

Y/N barely even makes eye contact with the woman, flicking off the small dust bunny she formed with her fingers. “Of course,” she agrees mildly. “From now on, I’ll make sure to be more… discreet.”

Her teacher’s eyes flash with irritation, “You know what? Your behavior today has been unacceptable. Detention. After school. I expect to see you here as soon as the bell rings.”

Y/N opens her mouth to argue, but the look in Jennifer's eyes stops her. She storms out of the classroom, her friends quickly falling into step beside her. Stiles trips over his own footing as he tries to grab Y/N’s wrist, “Would you just– Jesus– Y/N. Slow down!” He exclaims, finally catching her. He grabs onto her, holding the girl in place.

Y/N raises her eyebrows, “What?” She bites out. “I have to get to Calc.”

“Care to explain what the hell is going on with you?” Lydia tries to coax the information out of her. She knows it’s never good for Y/N out of all people to keep things bottled.

“Nothing’s going on with me,” she denies. “I’m fine. Are we done here?” She scoffs, spinning on her heel to walk away.

Scott runs in front of her, “Y/N, we just want to help,” he insists softly.

“I don’t need your help!” She snaps. The wounded expression on his puppy dog face makes Y/N groan at her actions. She runs a hand over her face, “Look Scotty, I appreciate it. I appreciate all of you, really, I do. It means a lot that you care so much, but this isn’t something that I feel like talking about right now. I need space and time to plot out her murder and then maybe we can have a discussion later, okay?” She says nonchalantly, kissing Scott’s cheek before walking off to her calculus class.

They all stand there stunned for a moment. Stiles watches after her, pointing at the girl and turning back to his friends, “Did she– did she just say plot her murder?”

“Yup,” Alison nods, popping the “p.”

As the school day goes on, Scott and Stiles continuously try to monitor Y/N and her behavior. Something about her unhinged jealousy is putting everyone on edge. Luckily, the advanced classes they don’t have with her, Lydia does. So whenever they can’t be together, they assign someone else to watch over her.

When Lydia reports back, they’re all slightly shocked to hear that she was absolutely fine in all of her other classes. Which only affirms their theory that Ms. Blake was in Derek’s apartment last night, and that’s why Y/N acted the way that she did.

When the final bell of the day rings, Y/N growls under her breath, knowing she has to spend the next hour or so with Jennifer Blake in an enclosed space. She marches down the hallway, mumbling profanities under her breath before pushing the door to her classroom open. Stiles and Scott watch from afar, the latter trying to listen in for any painful screams. But knowing Y/N, if she truly were to murder someone, it wouldn’t be loud or obvious.

Y/N furrows her eyebrows when she sees Jennifer packing up her desk. When the woman hears her door open, she glances over in her students direction. “Miss L/N, I hope you had a good and reflective rest of your day,” she comments, clearly not interested in Y/N’s day whatsoever.

Y/N doesn’t bother responding. She simply stares at her straight faced with her arms crossed. Her patience is dwindling the longer they stand there. Jennifer picks up her handbag before sending Y/N the nastiest smile she could.

“Well, Mr. Harris should be here in a couple of minutes to oversee your detention, so you can wait in your seat until he arrives.”

Y/N’s eyes narrow, “And why exactly am I waiting for Mr. Harris? Weren’t you the one to give me a detention?”

Her teacher smirks, “Yes, yes I was,” she answers with a shrug.

“Then wouldn’t it be your responsibility to oversee it? You can’t just hand out detentions and not stick around for it,” Y/N scoffs.

“Normally, I wouldn’t be leaving like this. I would happily spend the next hour of my life lecturing you on proper classroom etiquette, but I have certain plans tonight that I’ve been looking forward to. So Mr. Harris has agreed to take you off my hands,” she explains.

Y/N can smell her smugness. Only if she demonstrated this side of herself in front of the class. Y/N clenches her hand tightly, feeling her claws emerging from her actual nails. Anger rushes through her, but she pushes it back with a curt nod. “How interesting. Do you mind me asking who these plans happen to be with?”

Jennifer cockily leans forward, whispering in Y/N’s ear, “You know exactly who they’re with.” Then she pulls away from the young girl, walking out of the classroom without a second glance.

The werewolf’s eyes flash a bright yellow as she watches Jennifer stalk off. She squeezes them shut, trying to avoid any kind of outburst. Her frustration grows by the second, her heart beating abnormally fast as she hears Jennifer getting in her car to no doubt drive to Derek’s loft. A red hot fire fills her soul as she makes a decision that will no doubt have consequences later. But she would rather serve a two hour detention with Harris than watch Derek be with that woman.

Y/N storms out of the classroom, running down the hallway. She ditches her detention, figuring she could come up with an emotional enough lie to relieve the punishment afterwards. Her backpack bounces up and down, smacking into her tailbone as she runs. Her feet pump as fast as they possibly can as she runs through the greenery of the woods. She doesn’t have to pay attention to where she is because her body already knows where it’s going. Almost as if she’s called to be there, her inner wolf begging to move faster.

When she finally slows down, she’s directly in front of the door to Derek’s loft. Her chest rises and falls with her shallow breaths as she simply stares at the door. She didn’t see or hear Jennifer’s car, so that means their’s still time. She licks her lips out of nervousness before hesitantly bringing her hand up to the door, knocking on it softly.

She waits anxiously, wiping her now sweaty hands on her jeans. Y/N’s not used to feeling like this ever. She doesn’t get nervous. Most of the time, she’s the most confident person anyone could meet. Hence why she was friends with Lydia before she even knew Stiles existed. When she goes over to Derek’s, she never usually feels like this. Like her heart might just beat out of her chest if she doesn’t see him. She fights off the small whimper threatening to escape her throat. She doesn’t need to be nervous and embarrassed when he answers the door.

Y/N rocks back and forth on her feet, growing more weary as time passes. Silence fills the air around her and she suddenly feels the urge to throw up when she hears footsteps growing closer. She silently prays he can’t smell how absolutely out of sorts she is. Her inner monologue to give herself a confidence boost doesn’t do much when she sees his shadow at the bottom crack of the door. When the door swings open, it reveals a very dressed up Derek Hale. His face turns into one of confusion when he sees her standing in front of him.

“Y/N,” he greets, completely shocked by her presence. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh– I– um,” she stumbles over her words which causes Derek to look at her with curiosity. She’s not the type to be at a loss for something to say. That’s one of the things he admires about her. She sucks in a deep breath, “I just needed to see you,” she answers.

Derek steps aside slightly, allowing her into his apartment. When she walks in she can’t help but feel safe. This loft has almost turned into her home away from home. She’s here more often than anyone else out of the pack, and Issac lives here. It isn’t until now that Derek can smell the mix of emotions radiating off of her. It’s a concoction of things and he can’t tell which is the primary source of her unannounced appearance.

“What’s this about?” He asks her with a lifted brow.

Y/N sighs, trying to blink back the intermittent flashing of her eyes. “I know someone was here last night,” she reveals. “I came by and heard her. Then I find out today that you two apparently have plans,” she continues getting progressively more irritated. “Which didn’t make sense to me because I thought you were smarter than that.”

Derek crosses his arms, his own anger rising at her tone. He’s used to her empty sarcasm and insults, but this time it’s fueled by actual emotion which sets him equally on edge. “It’s none of your business who I have plans with, Y/N,” he says shortly.

Y/N laughs humorlessly, “None of my business? It is absolutely my business if the person you have these plans with is a complete stranger!” She exclaims loudly. “We don’t know her Derek. She could be the person behind all these killings and kidnappings and we wouldn’t be any the wiser!”

“Your teacher?” He challenges. “Responsible for everything that’s going on?” He chuckles at the obscurity. “Right. I’m sure that’s it,” he shakes his head at the accusation. “Isn’t the whole point of making plans to get to know someone? So wouldn’t it be nice if I did go out with her?”

“She’s manipulating you,” Y/N insists. “And you’re obviously too blind to even see it.”

“Why do you care so much?” Derek asks, his voice elevating as well.

“Because–” She waves her hands around exasperatedly, trying to find the words. “You’re not exactly known for your taste in women!” She all but scolds. “Remember Kate? The lady that up and killed your entire family. Well, I remember her so forgive me for trying to keep your stupid werewolf ass alive!”

Derek goes to retaliate but that’s when he hears it. Her heart rate speeds up. She’s lying to him. That’s not why she really cares. He can clearly see her anger and smell the annoyance radiating off of her, along with a couple of other things. But there’s a sweet smell accompanying it. One that Derek finds rather endearing. Jealousy. Y/N L/N is jealous. He wouldn’t have picked up on it if she hadn’t just blatantly lied. Suddenly her bursting in and berating him makes sense. He smirks when he notices her clenched fists. It’s about time she’s felt the green-eyed monster that constantly visits him when he sees her with other guys. When she’s laughing boisterously about something Scott said, whenever she comes over to see him but ends up talking to Isaac for hours on end. Especially when he found out she kissed Stiles last year after he was kidnapped by Gerard. It truly has been a miracle that no one ever sensed his jealousy when it came to her.

Derek takes a step forward, closing the distance between them. “Why did you really come here, Y/N?” He asks lowly, trying to get her to admit her feelings. “Tell me what you’re really trying to say…”

Y/N feels her face flush as he gets closer. She doesn’t want him to know the real reason why she raced across town to be here. The walls begin to close in around her, so she lashes out in a last ditch effort to protect herself.

“I’m trying to look out for you! You’re stubborn, Derek,” she chastises. “You don’t listen to anything anyone tells you. You like to pretend you’re always ready and prepared for anything, but you’re not! You are just as emotional and vulnerable as everyone else despite being hurt as many times as you have! You’re reckless when it comes to women, so I’m simply trying to make sure you don’t hurt yourself or the pack by making a stupid mistake.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t back down. In fact, he gets closer to her in attempts to pressure it out of her. “You’re avoiding my question, Y/N,” he says darkly. “What’s really going on?”

Feeling cornered, Y/N tries to take in a couple of deep breaths but it fails miserably. She can’t tell him. Not now. Not when he’s interested in another women who’s already on her way here. He even got dressed up for her. She’s never seen Derek in a white button up polo and slacks. It makes her frown thinking that it’s not for her. She scoffs softly before shaking her head, “Forget it,” she mumbles. The h/c haired girl pushes past him, shoulder checking him on her way to the door. “I shouldn’t have come here. Have fun on your date or whatever you wanna call it.”

She slams the door behind her before stomping down the flight of stairs that leads up to his building. When she walks outside, the sky opens up, almost mimicking her inner turmoil with its own storm. Rain pours down on her, soaking her clothing completely as she gets ready to run home, or in all truth, to Stiles house. All she knows is that she can’t be here anymore.

“Y/N, wait!” Derek calls out.

She doesn’t bother turning around, heading the exact way she came. She should’ve figured that he would’ve caught up to her with ease. He’s never had a problem showing her who’s in charge. He grabs her wrist gently but firmly, not allowing her to leave.

“Stop running away,” he commands. “Just tell me the truth.”

Y/N’s eyes once again begin flashing yellow, differing completely from her regular piercing e/c gaze. “Let go of me, Derek,” she demands with a bit of a growl in her voice.

“Not until you stop being so damn hardheaded!” He yells, trying to make his voice heard over the pounding rain. “Tell me!”

“Why do you even care?!” Y/N screams back. “Why does it matter when you’re already here waiting for another woman?”

Derek’s eyes soften slightly, and he pulls Y/N closer to him by her wrist. Her breath hitches in her throat as her hand practically rests on his muscular chest. His lips are so impossibly close that any coherent thought she had before this moment have been completely erased from her long and short term memory.

“Because I need to hear you say it,” his voice got impossibly low, sending a chill through her body that has nothing to do with the cold water hitting her back.

Y/N’s lips part slightly as his thumb comes up to brush the side of her cheek. Her body is drawn to him. The wolf inside of her is trying to claw its way out and into his arms, but she manages to steady herself. “Fine,” she breathes out, not being able to force herself to look away. “I’m jealous, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? That it made me want to commit first-degree murder last night when I heard her voice in your apartment, knowing that it would’ve been me in there if I had shown up just a tad bit earlier? So yes, Derek, I am jealous. You win.”

Derek’s eyes darken at the breathiness of her voice. He places the hand that was holding her wrist on her waist to keep her pressed securely against his front. Both of their hearts beat in unison, “Why didn’t you just say that when I asked the first time?”

Y/N’s defense starts to crumble beneath her, “Because I didn’t want you to think I was weak for succumbing to something stupid like that,” she admits.

Derek laughs, showing off his pearly white teeth, “I would’ve never thought you were weak.” He reassures when he notices the small frown etched on her face. “You’ve never been weak. A bit obstinate? Sure. But not weak.”

Y/N can feel the sincerity in his voice. She doesn’t protest his strong hold on her hip, but instead keeps her own hands occupied on his now soaked through white shirt. It’s not a bad view from where she’s standing. “I don’t think I can do this,” she whispers.

Derek’s eyebrows furrow, a pang of concern filling his heart. “Do what?”

“Keep pretending that I don’t care about you,” she says softly, her chest heaving up and down from how intense the moment they are sharing is.

Derek’s eyes flash their bright alpha red as a primal instinct clouds his brain. He leans close to her face, his stubble rubbing her cheek in just the right way. “Then don’t,” he says huskily.

Before she can respond, he leans in and kisses her, the rain pouring down around them. The kiss is intense, filled with all the emotions they’ve both been keeping at bay. It’s a collision of desire and frustration, their lips moving against each other with a desperate want. A primal need inside both of them. Y/N wraps her hands around his neck, tugging at the short strands of his black hair. Derek wastes no time placing both of his hands on her waist, squeezing the soft flesh. She giggles slightly from the sensation, making him smile. When they finally pull apart, they’re both breathless.

Y/N steps back, her heart racing, but Derek keeps his arm around her, protectively. “How come you ran away?” He asks quietly.

Y/N huffs, running a hand through her wet hair. She sighs loudly before admitting the truth, “I was scared.”

“Of what?” He questions, not believing the woman in front of him would be scared of anything.

“Of this,” she states obviously, gesturing in between them. “Of how much I feel for you. I’m not really big on emotions like this. I don’t know how to handle it. So I was scared of having to open up my heart when I wasn’t sure if you’d actually take care of it.”

The vulnerability in her answer snaps something in Derek’s mind. She has the same issues as he does. He hasn’t been able to truly give himself to anyone since Paige. He felt so strongly for her and then she was gone in an instant. And when he tried again with someone he didn’t even fully trust, he got burned again. Emotions besides anger have never been his forte. So when he hears Y/N admitting the same thing, it makes him realize that this is something they both can improve on.

He grins, kissing her forehead softly, “You don’t have to be scared. We can figure it all out together, okay? Both of us.”

At that moment, a car pulls up, and Derek pulls Y/N even tighter into his chest. The bright headlights blind them and they both try to shield their eyes in order to identify the owner of the vehicle. Y/N’s body tenses as Jennifer steps out, the woman’s expression shifting from surprise to anger as she sees them.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” she comments coldly. Her eyes zero in on Y/N who has a rather tight grip on Derek’s shirt, “Miss L/N, shouldn’t you be at school serving the detention you earned today for your behavior in my class?”

“I had better things to do,” Y/N bites back. “As you can see,” she says, pointing at Derek’s chiseled form.

A shit-eating grin forms on Derek’s lips at her words. They both swear they see Jennifer’s eye twitch from the insinuation Y/N just made. He doesn’t bother trying to cover up what just happened and keeps his hands firmly on Y/N’s hips.

“Yes, I can see that,” Jennifer narrows her eyes at their proximity.

Derek can feel the situation getting ready to escalate so he keeps Y/N safeguarded within his hold. He nods over to Jennifer’s car, “I think it would be best if you left,” he states unforgivingly making Y/N smile.

Jennifer sends them both a pointed look, “I think so too,” she agrees before spinning on her heel and walking back towards her car. “We’ll see just how well this works out for the two of you. Let’s hope you don’t regret it.”

She closes the drivers side door before speeding off out of the parking lot. Both Derek and Y/N are left standing in the rain, now knowing that things have just become a lot more complicated than they were before. But even in the midst of her subtle threat and imminent danger, the two of them don’t seem worried in the slightest.

Because they’ll handle that together too.

[patolemus]

Sterek fic recs: ABO/Mpreg AU Edition

As per @oldefashioned's request, since this is for her, here you go. I tried to filter my bookmarks, so these are more about the plot than the smut. There's probably a lot of ABO without mpreg, but I hope some of these change your mind about it!!

1. Fire, Fury and Flame by IAmAVeronica

Stiles Stilinski was never going to be the omega who got knocked up right after high school, and then he's accidentally artificially inseminated with a stranger's sperm. Awesome. And the father of Stiles's baby just so happens to be Derek Hale. Half-feral, quite possibly a murderer, and pursued by a gleefully sadistic band of hunters who are only too eager to use Stiles and his baby to hit Derek right where it hurts. Joy.

Notes: this is Jane the Virgin if there were werewolves and abo. It’s absolutely phenomenal. That's it, I have nothing else to say, 10/10. It's completed!

2. I don't know why, but I guess it has something to do with you by LunaCanisLupus_22

“You smell like me,” the guy says, scowling as he crowds in and Stiles staggers back between the coats and finally hits the wall. “Why do you smell like me?” He barely lets out a garbled sound as the blood rushes to his cheeks. “No reason,” Stiles yelps, struggling to get his footing and grasping at a whirlwind of puffy fur. Or the one where Stiles goes thrift shopping and steals an alpha's shirt. And gets a lot more than he bargains for.

Notes: Stiles does something he's not supposed to. Derek is... confused. It ends up pretty okay. Also kind of an office au?? Anyways they're both dorks and I love them. It's completed, but you need to have an account to see this work.

3. Take Me Away From Here by Hedwig221b (also @hedwig221b here on tumblr!)

Derek Hale looked terrifying. With his broad frame and muscles, with his wild black hair and thick beard, with his eyes the color of blood and fangs of a killer. Despite his kindness and his apparent attraction to Stiles, he was still a stranger, a predator, a wolf. The thing is, Stiles would deal, but others might not. People found Lord Hale horrid, monstrous and unapproachable. If Stiles stood behind him, no one would touch him. He’d be safe with the wolf. If not from him, then definitely from everyone else. And that was enough.

Notes: of course I had to rec at least one Hedwig abo fic, they're the best! Don't you worry, there's a lot more in this list. This is a historical au... sort of. If history had werewolves and omegas. Don't worry, it works out fine. The whole world building in itself is interesting, because it treates omegas like a different species. Derek, my beloved, always and forever obsessed with Stiles! It gets dark for a little while, but don't fret, all is okay in the world. It's completed!

4. Scent Left Unsaid by bleep0bleep

In a society where werewolves are second class, Deucslist is an alternative werewolf network (similar to Craigslist) where humans and werewolves offer (mostly sexual) services. Derek is a long-term client of an anonymous human omega whose scent is just perfect. He never expects to meet him, until it happens.  Derek has slept with that faded red hooded sweatshirt every night since he got it in the mail. It’s calming, that scent; it’s everything to him. So it’s strange now that Derek is smelling it wafting from the end of the subway car as it careens towards the L line, lights flickering on the passing platforms.

Notes: imagine meet cute, only Derek is too socially awkward to actually enact the necessary steps to make it a meet cute, and Stiles has to do it instead. Also using the good old trope of Stiles' scent being like cocaine to Derek. It's very wholesome, and it's completed.

5. Never a Hardship by Julibean19 

“Derek, meet Stiles, your new bodyguard,” Talia says. Derek doesn’t get up. He’s frozen to his seat on the couch, staring at the man who will now be hounding his every step. “What’s a Stiles?” he asks dumbly, finally budging when his mother smacks him on the shoulder.  “That’s Chief Stiles to you,” his mother says, scolding him. Derek huffs in annoyance, wondering how this could possibly get worse. “Senior Chief Stilinski is a Navy SEAL, Special Operations Forces, and has been handpicked by me, out of several hundred options. You will treat him with respect and do what he says.” “I’m a grown man, Madam President,” Derek says through clenched teeth. “You can’t expect me to listen to this guy. I don’t know anything about him."

Notes: I love First Family aus! And Omega First Son!Derek with Alpha Bodyguard!Stiles is just delightful. There's a lot of omega politics, and Stiles gets to be a total badass when he and Derek are not pining after each other. Also, Chris Argent, surprisingly, is the best. I don't know what else to say without spoiling everything, so just know this is amazing! It's completed.

6. A Sheep In Wolf's Clothing by dumpac

"What the fuck, Stiles, what the fuck?!" "No, no, you don't understand, Scotty, this is the best idea ever!" "Because you think registering as a fucking alpha to college when you're actually an omega is the best idea ever? It's not even a good idea!" Or : Being an omega, Stiles has few chances to be accepted in the college of his dreams. Registering as an alpha seems like a good idea... until his new roommate, hot-as-the-sun alpha Derek Hale, comes in the equation.

Notes: I know I say this a lot but this fic is SO GOOD!! Stiles pretends to be an alpha and IT WORKS because he's a badass, only things go a little bit sideways because he's not an alpha and Derek... well Derek has no idea. My poor man is confused. Also has a dash of good old discrimination against omegas and nepotism. One of my favorite abo AND college au fics. It's completed.

7. Untouchable by Hedwig221b

The day Stiles Stilinski entered the Berkeley campus was the day all the alphas went absolutely fucking nuts. See, omegas were rare, even more than redheads. Got to be extremely fucking lucky to even see one in a lifetime. They were supposed to be these ethereal creatures of beauty and elegance, irresistible and blinding. And Stiles Stilinski was exactly that.

Notes: another Hedwig fic hehe. This one makes me go feral EVERY TIME. Literally one of my favorite fics to ever exist, I think I've read it three times in the last month and a half alone. If you're looking for unhinged sterek with absolutely besotted Derek, and pretty omega Stiles who has only eyes for him, this is the fic for you. They are literally so great!! 10/10, please please please go read this. It's completed.

8. You Smell Like Mine by bleep0bleep, marguerite_26 

People talk about the alpha instinct, an alpha's head being swayed by a nice-smelling omega, or the desire to drop everything and show off. Derek's never felt any of that. He's just not that kind of alpha. Then he meets Stiles.

Notes: I love Derek in this, he's trying SO HARD to remain nonchalant over Stiles, but he never stood a chance. One whiff of Stiles' scent and he was a goner, pathetically entranced. Good thing Stiles wants him back hehe. A sprinkle of Enemies to Lovers (and really, can we say it's sterek if it doesn't have enemies to lovers who are inexplicably drawn to each other despite their best efforts to appear indifferent?). It's completed.

9. His Only Defence by LunaCanisLupus_22

Stiles had just accidentally challenged an alpha. Oh God, and Scott had just stood by and let him do it. He was the worst best friend ever. Stiles was going to kill him. Except, oh right, the alpha was going to kill him first. Like beyond dead, ripped into tiny little pieces dead. So far dead that his dad would not be able to identify him, dead.

Notes: I honestly don't know how to explain this one. It's a modern au, only archaic abo rules exist and Stiles and Derek... well, Stiles is Stiles and Derek is Derek. They work it out. It's completed, but you need to have an account to read this work.

10. cheer up, babe by graveltotempo, SpringlockedSpectre

He was the basketball captain. And he was a cheerleader. Can I make it any more clear? OR: Derek Hale thought he had his crush on Stiles Stilinski under control. And then Stiles decided to show up to school in a skirt.

Notes: Derek is pining and makes a fool of himself all the time in front of Stiles. Stiles, thankfully for Derek, finds it charming. That's it, that's the fic. It's completed. I also recommend checking up graveltotempo's other works, they're great!

11. Love's Violent Delights by Dexterous_Sinistrous

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted. Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek. Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

Notes: this makes me go feralllll it's so good. The Sheriff is imprisoned for what basically amounts to bullshit charges, and he and Derek share a cell. When Derek is freed, he looks for Stiles to make good on his promise to the Sheriff to take care of him. Somehow, they end up running from the law lol, my little criminal babies. Their relationship here is so uuuuuuughhhhh so wonderful! There's also critics to the system and talk about abo politics. It's completed.

12. Side Character by Hedwig221b

He should’ve kept his mouth shut. He should’ve smiled like always. Now everything was ruined, crushed, destroyed. Dust, shards, and the remnants of his pride. Love that no one needed. Derek’s gaze scalded the side of his face but Stiles refused to meet it. He had already revealed too much.

Notes: Hedwig, as always, writes such good stories! Seriously one of my favorite sterek writers! Stiles is oblivious and pining, Derek is also oblivious and pining, only in a completely different manner. They still end up together because they are meant to be in EVERY UNIVERSE. This doesn't have the traditional Alpha/Omega pairing, since Stiles is a Beta (really, the root of all this issue in the first place) He is very insecure in this one, but Derek is here for him. It's completed.

13. Made Your Mark on Me (A Golden Tattoo) by writteninthewolfstar

Beacon Hills High and Lycan Heights High are well-known enemies. Derek Hale, Lycan Heights' star quarter-back, is well-known for being aggressive and arrogant. Imagine Stiles surprise when he discovers that Derek Hale is actually his soul-mate.

Notes: this is a very sweet one. Pretty light hearted, especially compared to canon. The bullying does get a little intense at some points, though, so if that's triggering proceed with caution. Jock Derek, my beloved. Stiles is a loner, and also very insecure on this one! But Derek is an absolute sweetheart and a real champ, so love conquers all. Has some Bad Friend Scott, too, so if that's something you're interested in, this is your fic. It's completed.

14. We Gotta Hide What We're Doin' by CharWright5

As a Bodyguard within the Stilinski Rodzina, Derek's one and only job is to watch over the Omega son—and only child—of the Family's Head, Stiles, a task that is easier said than done some nights. It's just good that the Alpha knows the best way to punish the little troublemaker when his bratty behavior threatens to expose a secret that could get the Bodyguard killed.

Notes: this one has a lot of smut, and the premise is absolutely killer. I'm actually very sad it's not 200k words long, but what can you do? Stiles is the heir to a Mafia Empire, and Derek an enforcer and Stiles' personal bodyguard since he was young. Stiles is a spoiled brat here, but Derek likes that hehe. It's also a secret relationship. It's kiiiiind of dark, since this is a mafia au, but nothing too terrible. To be honest the most explicit part is the smut. It's completed.

15. Survival of the Species by Lissadiane

“I think I’m dying.” Nothing makes sense – and now Derek has left him. “No, Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton says grimly, rooting around in his special cupboard of herbs and remedies. “I’m afraid not. You’re merely suffering from a biological imperative to bear your alpha’s children and strengthen the pack.” Stiles considers that for a moment, as best he can with his mind a hazy mess, and then he says quietly, “I think that might be worse.” “So, so much worse,” Scott agrees. * In which Derek's pack is apparently stable enough to begin planning for the future, and somehow, the universe has decided Stiles is the perfect candidate to bear his alpha's children.

Notes: honestly?? One of the best fics I've read about mpreg, not just in the Teen Wolf, but in general. It keeps things real, everyone is the appropriate amount of freaked out, for a while no one is having a good time, and there's enough to hint at body horror that my angst thirst is satisfied. Don't worry though, everything's fine! And there's no actual body horror, Stiles just has a very wild imagination. There's also not actual mpreg either, it's just discussed. It's complete.

16. before the world catches up by negativelyme

Stiles is a beta, so he’s never been a part of the annual Winter Mating Rituals that take over his high school. Or so he thinks.

Notes: this one is so wholesome! Derek truly is trying his very best, you can do it, Derek! Stiles' I'm-a-Beta-no-one-wants-me issues are getting in the way of true love. All ends well. It's completed.

17. All You Ever Needed to Know About Knotting by orphan_account

Derek had started reading the column by accident. Really, reading strangers’ questions about knotting and heat had never really appealed to him. However, at that point in time, he was a little desperate. And he was right: most of the questions submitted by anonymous readers didn’t appeal to him. The answers, though, did. (Or: In which Stiles writes an advice column about knotting and Derek is smitten. Also they're neighbors.)

Notes: it's pretty much what it says in the summary. Overall very wholesome, made me laugh. Derek is absolutely precious here. It's completed.

18. You Want Me Back by graveltotempo

Stiles and the Hale pack come back to Beacon Hills for a High School reunion.

Notes: classic 10 year reunion fic (or maybe it's not classic in this fandom?? Tbh, most of the reunion fics I've read are from KHR), Stiles comes back to BH married and with a child. He, Jackson and Isaac are the best of bests, and Derek is, of course, wonderful. Peter is also pretty great, even if he appears for like 5 seconds. Canon Divergent from season 3b, bad friend Lydia, bad friend Scott. There's an epic smackdown and the Hales are basically top dogs. It's completed.

19. Over the Moon by likeshipsonthesea

Stiles and Derek spend a night together, and Derek, thinking he's protecting Stiles, tells him it was a mistake. Stiles leaves Beacon Hills. He also leaves behind 6 letters to say goodbye to the pack. From his letters, the pack thinks he's killed himself. Meanwhile, Stiles is in NYC, living with Jackson, going to Columbia, oh, and he's pregnant.

Notes: Derek is an idiot, but his heart is in the right place. Misscomunication ensues, basically, and it escalates way too much. Jackson and Stiles' broship is literally the best thing ever, I love them!!!! We should have more fics with them being the best duo ever.

20. the Jurisdiction series by elisera

John is a pretty level-headed guy. He wasn’t always, back during his own Sturm und Drang period, but he married a firecracker of a woman and got a kid with an affinity for trouble like he got payed for ending up in it, so someone had to level out or they would’ve ended up living in a treehouse or Lapland doing god knows what. Anyway, getting a hold of his temper is one of John’s better life achievements. It makes him a good sheriff and it kept him from blowing his lid too badly those last two years when Stiles started acting out in a way that John had never seen before.  But the temper is still there. He’s reminded of it when he comes home on a random Saturday in March after spilling his milkshake all over his uniform shirt only to notice he didn’t have a spare in the station and finds Stiles bend over the kitchen sink with hunched shoulders.

Notes: the first part of the series gets, admittedly, pretty violent. Everything after that is very wholesome though. The Sheriff is an absolute gem in this one! Also, the mpreg is a very important factor after the first part of the series, but the first part is mostly just sterek pining and the aforementioned violent events. I'd mind the tags. It's completed.

21. What To Expect When You're Expecting (A Litter of Sourwolf Puppies) by Brego_Mellon_Nin

The Sheriff sighs and plops down in a chair opposite his son. “Stiles, I’m going crazy here. We need to get you to a doctor. You sleep like you’re trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records, and your eating habits are bizarre! You vomit around the clock and for some reason only the tea your mother used when she was pregnant will get your stomach to settle down for any length of time. Is there something you aren’t telling me? Can werewolves get guys pregnant? I’ve noticed how you look at that Hale kid-”  Stiles meeps and flails, sloshing tea down his front. Luckily it’s not scalding anymore, but still hot, so he jumps up and wrenches his shirt off. “God, dad, no! Guys can’t get pregnant, that’s ridiculous, it’s like...” “Like werewolves being real?” his dad questions, deadpan.

Notes: a wonderful accidental pregnancy fic. I love the Sheriff on this one, he's so supportive and actually has a hold of every single braincell because he is just THAT great. Stiles is also lovely, and while Derek is missing for like the first third of the fic he's great, too. This are pretty fluffy all around! It's completed.

22. I Don't Blame You for Being You (but you can't blame me for hating it) by LadySlytherin 

Derek hits Stiles with his Camaro - 'Dammit, Stiles, it was an accident!'...'Why don't I believe you?' - and hilarity ensues.

Notes: do you know how there are fics that make you go 'I LOVE STEREK SO MUCH AAAAAAAAAAH'? Well, this is one of them. Derek hits Stiles with his car, Stiles ends with a broken leg, Derek gets to take care of him while he recovers as payment. Oh, and there's a fight about which pack Stiles actually belongs to, but that works itself out. It's pretty great. It's also completed.

23. Predators by Hedwig221b

He was born for this. Nature itself whispered into his ear where he should put his hands, how to twirl his tongue just right and when to bite. Stiles knew well enough that his saliva was currently working its magic on this unfortunate man, making him hungry, lustful, and insatiable. Soon, all his thoughts would be consumed by Stiles. And, just this once, Stiles would allow Derek to consume him.

Notes: to be honest, I thought I'd be putting this on another section, since this is a creature!Stiles fic (and it'll definitely go there when I make that fic rec list), but if it has mpreg then it has mpreg. This is actually one of my favorite fics ever!! I feel like I'm always saying this but it bears repeating, so: Hedwig always makes such great stories (as proven by the sheer amount of Hedwig fics I have in my rec lists lol). Stiles is so uuuuuugh in this one, I love him! And Derek! Oh lord, Derek makes me go feral here. Honestly, so good! It's completed, but do mind the tags because it gets... intense.

24. Disposition by Tulikettu

Stiles has an itch. A kinky, kinda dirty itch he needs to scratch.  So why not go on the Internet and look for a complete stranger to scratch it?  Derek needs a partner for his rut.  What a coincidence.

Notes: alright so this last one really veers off track from the rest of this list. It's basically pure smut so if you're not into that, don't read it. It also doesn't actually have mpreg, it's just discussed (and barely as a subject, since in their current present it isn't possible). Also, the kinks are... well, they are. There are some pretty triggering stuff in here so please mind the tags before you read, because if it's in the tags, you will read it, in detail. Other than that, it's pretty great! Stiles and Derek are very obsessed with each other, as they should. It's completed!

And this is everything. I honestly surprised myself with the amount of fics that ended up here, I hadn't realized I'd read that many sterek fics with ABO and mpreg. I hope you like these, Shar! And of course, anyone else who bounds finding this, I hope you enjoy these too.

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 13.6k

Warnings: series rewrite, season 1 {aka 2011}, slow burn, friends to lovers, Stiles pining, slight NSFW, usual teen wolf levels of violence and gore, heart conditions, talk of scars {good and bad}, dementia, hospital death, abuse

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

A/N: I COULDN'T RESIST 😭 Their chemistry is TOO GOOD

Part 5: Mieczyslaw

Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar {You Are Here}

Part 7: The Summer Filter

Scott was frantically searching his bedroom for his phone, arguing with Stiles along the way. “The Argent’s plan was to use Derek to get the Alpha. They’re not gonna kill him.”

Stiles sways in a swivel chair, blatantly not helping. “Alright, so then just let them do what they’re planning, you know? They use Derek to get Peter, problem solved.”

“Not if Peter’s going after Allison to find Derek!”

Frown growing on his face, Stiles picks at the weathered wood of the chair, “You know this wasn’t why I came over.” He waits for a reply that doesn’t come – Scott is under his bed, throwing socks and crumpled papers out of the way. Stiles huffs, “We’ve had a major (Y/N) development… hello? Earth to Scott! (Y/N) slept in my bed last night!”

He grinds his teeth at the lack of a reaction, “And she asked me to take Allison to the formal, which is stupid because we could get Jackson or another lacrosse meathead to do that. I should be taking (Y/N) to the formal!”

Scott bangs his head on the underside of his bed, scrambling to get out, “Shut up!” he hisses.

“Ex-fucking-cuse me?!”

Scott hushes him, “I hear voices in the driveway.” He cocks his head to the window and squints his eyes in concentration.

“Who is it?”

“My mom coming home from work… and she’s been crying,” Scott deflates, sinking in on himself. “And (Y/N)’s with her.”

Stiles wheels the chair towards Scott, looking ridiculous with his legs spread out and paddling against the hardwood floor. “What are they saying?”

“(Y/N)’s trying to cheer her up. She’s asking to see me. She’s worried.” He doesn’t even have the energy to groan his sorrow as he sits on the bed, void of dramatics.

Stiles takes a breath, hearing his friends anxiety without needing the words. “Scott, you can’t protect everyone.”

The beat that follows is short and tense, resignation in Scott as he says, “I have to.”

“Well, we’re going to have to put a pause on that because (Y/N) is probably coming inside any second now.” Stiles straightens his jacket, “And she doesn’t want to be involved in any werewolf stuff, remember?”

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to be friends with her and keep her from all that,” Scott sighs, laying on his back and covering his face with his hands.

“Like it or not, she may be the eventual love of my life, meaning you have to suck it up and deal with it.” Stiles chokes on his breath as you knock on the wall before entering the open door.

You wince at the coughing fit Stiles is in, “Good morning.” Your eyes fall on Scott, “I hear something went down last night,” you fold your arms, “Melissa just told me outside. She’s seriously torn up about it.”

Scott finally is able to groan his frustrations, “Everything is going to shit.”

“Someone’s down in the dumps,” you smile, but stop upon seeing the lack of enthusiasm on Stiles’ face. “Any updates?” You play with your fingers, worry evident in your stance as you look between the boys. “Look, just because I don’t want to be there for the werewolf crap doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about it afterwards.”

“Derek took Jackson to the Hale House and drew Scott out,” Stiles resigns, “It turned into a giant werewolf battle that ended with Scott being shot by the Argents and Derek going missing.”

You whip your head to Scott, lines of worry in your brow, “Are you okay?”

Scott lifts his shirt in a silent reply – no bullet wounds in his torso. He rolls over onto his feet and grumbles, “Deaton patched me up.”

If it was possible, your brows arch even closer to your hairline, “Deaton like your vet boss Deaton? He knows about all this too?”

“Evidently,” Stiles shrugs his shoulders.

“And Peter showed up to threaten Allison’s safety. He thinks the Argents have Derek and now I have to be on guard 24/7 to make sure she’s safe. Not to mention my mom went out with the maniac last night and you are the number one first target should a werewolf want to kill my pack…” Scott was tangling his fingers in his shaggy hair, “And with not going to the dance I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep her safe.”

You walk to stand in front of him, “Scott,” you say softly, “Noone expects you to be a guard dog for all your friends 24 hours a day. That’s impossible and too high an expectation for yourself. You’re just a sophomore in high school.” You raise your arms to grab Scott’s wrists, easing them from his head, “You shouldn’t have to be worrying about all this – it’s why you’re failing your classes.”

He lets you hold onto his arms between you, “But I have to worry; it’s all my fault. And I’ve screwed myself in the long run because now I’m banned from a whole night where anything could happen to you guys.”

You listen, eyes soft and sad, “I wanted to talk to you about who you think should take Allison to the dance, just so you feel more at ease about it.” You finally let go of his arms, returning to your finger picking. “Any ideas?”

“Jackson,” he says, ignoring the silent cheers coming from Stiles behind you. “He likes her, and they have a decent friendship, even if he won’t admit it.”

You nod, “Sounds good. Do you need me to help in any way?”

“Are you going to the dance with Andrew?” he asks, checking all his boxes.

“I don’t know,” you say, “He hasn’t asked me yet, but I have a feeling he might after our date tomorrow.” The smile on your face says it all and Scott again ignores the despair hitting Stiles – the poor boy banging his head into his crossed arms on the chair.

“Let us know,” Scott says, now fixated on finding a way to protect his mom, “We still have a week until the dance.”

You smile, but your eyes are pinched with empathy, “I’ll try to have as many sleepovers as possible with Allison and Lydia this next week,” you say determinedly, “I know you were thinking about stalking her house at night.”

“Only to keep watch,” he says with a slight upturn of his lips.

“But you need your sleep,” you pat his shoulder, turning around, “Doctor’s orders.” You spy on the last remnants of Stiles’ despair as he wipes his face of emotion. You grimace at the terrible unevenness of his hoodie strings. “And have you figured out someone to ask to the dance?”

You move to pull on his hoodie strings, evening them out as you adjust the fabric around his neck. He gulps and takes a second to respond.

“Not yet,” he gasps out a laugh, “We’ll see.”

“There’s always Lydia,” you smile, flattening the fabric against his wide shoulders. “Or you could just go stag.”

~~~

You drive with Lydia that night. It had been so long since the two of you hung out that it was almost awkward visiting the strip mall together – the same one you went to on your first date with Andrew.

The white fairy lights were just starting to turn on as you enter a beauty shop. Lydia goes right for the latest face serums while you follow along. “Don’t you already have every skincare product alive?”

“You can never have too many,” she says, holding up something pink and shiny.

“Actually, too many products can mess with your skin barrier and…”

Lydia holds up a finger, “That doesn’t stop me from having them sit pretty on my vanity.”

You giggle, running your eyes over the pretty packaging of various bottles. They really knew how to draw your attention. “I need a new lip gloss,” you say, encouraging Lydia’s shopaholic tendencies.

“Let me show you some of my favorites,” she says quickly, purse hanging from the crook of her elbow.

Shopping with Lydia was fun, especially when she made you feel beautiful and offered to buy things for you. She had you holding a few things for herself, but also a couple products for you that she refused to let you buy.

“Have you found someone to go to the formal with?” you ask nonchalantly, checking Lydia’s mood.

“I’ve narrowed it down to a couple lacrosse players. We’ll see who asks me by tomorrow.” She purses her lips and leads the way to the checkout line. “Do you know who Allison is going with?’

You hum your response, “Um… I think Jackson might ask her.”

Lydia takes a deep breath, “Sure. Why not.”

“Are you not okay with that?” you ask quietly, “I’m sure Allison will say no if you want her to.”

“I’m not going to control what that conceited little man wants to do. He was a moron to let me go – clearly I’ve been doing better than him since. You know after every lacrosse practice he just goes home? I haven’t seen him at a single after practice party.”

You pull your card out to pay for your things and she smacks your wrist. “How often does the team meet after practice?”

“Like once or twice a week,” she shrugs, “Jackson never liked to go, though. He doesn’t like doing things for popularity’s sake.”

“I’ve noticed he kind of just does things that serve his own best interests.”

“Exactly,” she says a little exasperatedly, handing you the shopping bag. “He’s so full of himself. I don’t know what’s going on with him.”

You hold open the door as Lydia storms out, shoulders tense at the thought of him. “Hey, crazy thought…” you say with a giggle, “Do you want to go spy on him?”

Lydia stops on the cobblestone sidewalk, giving you a dose of skepticism. “Are you crazy?”

“Come on, we could just drive past his house,” you say, still smiling, “It’s what girls do after a hard breakup.”

Consideration fills her gaze, slowly starting to walk again. The click of her heels builds a rhythm as her confidence grows, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to see what he does on a weeknight. I swear he’s become so boring now.”

You laugh, linking arms with her and going for the car. You think about what Stiles said at the hospital. Jackson was focused on getting the werewolf bite. He was becoming an obsessive recluse in his hunt for power. It was no wonder that he avoided people that wouldn’t help him with his mission.

The drive to the upper class part of town was fast and full of loud music. Lydia looks determined as she turns into the neighborhood, headlights blinking off. You turn down the radio and look upon the grand estate that was the Whittmore house.

It looks renovated in comparison to some of the other houses on the street.

“They sure like a clean and modern look,” you remark at the plain white walls and geometric windows.

Lydia scoffs, parking across the street a little away. “He was always so proud of his money. Like it made him something he’s not.”

You feel a twinge of pity. “The poor thing. His Porsche is here – I bet he’s brooding in his bedroom.”

Pointing a finger, Lydia picks the window to Jackson’s room, “He’s up there; the lights on.”

The pair of you deduce what the reclusive boy might be doing. You were just laughing about anime porn and edibles when a loud voice starts yelling within the house you’re parked in front of. Lydia stops her laughter, looking to her right to peer out your window.

“Someone’s having a fight inside.”

You wince at the persistent yells, “Sounds pretty serious.” There was a crash and a boom. It made you jump being the closer of the two to the house. “Oh my god, what are they doing? Breaking things?”

A breath catches in Lydia’s throat when another bellowing yell seems to shake the windowpanes. “Maybe we should get out of here.”

Your mouth falls open when it sounds like someone slams into the front door. “Maybe we should call someone for help.”

The front door opens and a teenager falls out onto his side. He scrambles to get away from whatever was happening within. He trips down the concrete stairs of the front porch and finally makes it to his feet.

You audibly gasp, recognizing the teenager as Isaac Lahey. “Holy shit, I know him!” You go to open the door and Lydia cries out.

“Wait! We should…”

“Lydia…” you spot something bleeding on the side of Isaac’s face, “He’s hurt and he needs help.” You don’t even let her begin a retort as you leap out of the car at Isaac’s retreating form. “Isaac!”

He flinches, turning around in a frenzied motion. He looks wild with fear, holding his hands out like he was going to stop whatever was after him. In a second he looks even more uneasy, “(Y/N)?”

“Get in the car,” you say, keeping your distance, “We’ll get you out of here for a while.”

He looks at the slightly open front door and the look of desperation on your face. He swallows hard and seems fidgety with adrenaline.

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, taking a step forward. “I can help, Isaac. I work at a hospital – I can fix you up. Let’s go take a break somewhere else. Somewhere safer.”

Isaac looks to be choking on something – whether breath or words, you weren’t sure – but you feel a drop of relief as he follows your lead into the car.

Lydia looks petrified as she faces forward, two hands on the wheel. “This is not how I expected tonight to go.”

You put on your seatbelt and ask her firmly to drive to your house. “Is that okay, Isaac? My dad is at the firehouse and my mom is probably napping on the couch. She always does after having some of her tea.”

“Um…” Isaac wraps his arms around himself, trying to hide just like he did in the computer lab. “Yeah, sure.”

In those few seconds you look over your shoulder, you check the bleeding to the side of his face. The skin must’ve split open from some kind of force. In another second you notice the bruise around his eye.

It was yellow and green with age.

It’s quiet as Lydia tensely drives the car to your house. You try to silently thank her for going along with your plan. You were concocting scenarios in your mind as to why Isaac was so hurt. The yells, the bruises, the crashes and bangs, the fear as he scrambled away.

You think, sadly, of how alone Isaac always was. You realize that there wasn’t a single instance you could think of when he was with anyone. There was just that one time you spoke with him in the computer lab.

What was he actually dealing with at home?

Lydia was curt as she drove away from your house, no doubt brewing a passive aggressive text for you. Isaac, though extremely tall, seems to shrink beside you. He doesn’t look up as he follows your footsteps.

“Is this okay?” you ask gingerly, stopping at the door. “I just want to take you upstairs and have a look at that cut. It’ll be a quick bandage and then we can do whatever you like. We’ll take a break for a while.”

He seems to stew for a few seconds, not daring to look you in the eye. You suddenly wish to see them bright blue with the smile he got from laughter. The one you complimented him on. He finally speaks in a quiet tone, “Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Good,” you say, opening the door and going for the stairs. Peering over the banister you see just as you predicted. Your mother is fast asleep with a book resting open on her chest, and an empty mug of tea on the side table. “I swear that chamomile one she has puts her right to sleep.”

You walk upstairs and to the hallway bathroom. You put the toilet lid down and gesture for him to sit. Under the sink, and next to an array of things that sometimes help you when you feel faint, is a first aid kit.

Isaac looks wary as he holds his hands in his lap. It seems pretty plain what was going on. Something to do with an angry dad at home. You suddenly remember how apprehensive he was when you mentioned asking his dad for permission to go on the spring retreat.

“What was it that split your cheek open?” you ask gently, just a few inches taller than him as he sits.

He looks fearful to admit the truth. “I uh… fell.”

You nod, knowing it was a lie. “Pretty hard fall,” you give him a sad smile as he appears relieved you don’t question further. “I’m just going to clean it and put a butterfly bandage on, okay?”

He swallows again, wringing his hands, “Sure.” He winces as you swab a disinfectant wipe along his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly.

“It’s okay,” is his reply. He continues to be on edge as you pinch the cut closed and place a butterfly bandage on it. You let the silence continue if that is what he wants to do.

You’re throwing away the used wipes now, “Is that what happened to your eye?” you ask, “Another bad fall?”

He looks at you and seems to soften at the understanding in your gaze. It was warm and safe. He takes a deep breath, “Yeah. Another fall.”

“Would you consider yourself pretty clumsy?” you ask vaguely, stating the obvious without saying it out loud.

He catches on pretty quick, “It depends. Some days are better than others.”

You nod again, “Would you like something for the pain? I’ve got some ibuprofen or Tylenol.”

He agrees and follows you down the stairs again to find your mother groggy on the couch.

“Oh, hello sweetie,” she says, rubbing her eyes, “Who’s this?”

“This is Isaac,” you introduce, filling a glass with water. “He lives by Jackson Whittemore.”

Angela smiles though her eyes are droopy, “Nice to meet you, Isaac.” She suddenly squints, “What happened to your face, dear?”

He freezes as you open the medicine cabinet, “Oh, just lacrosse practice.”

He looks grateful, adding quietly, “I uh… got tackled without my helmet.”

“Boys,” Angela says funnily, “Well, hopefully it heals fast.”

Isaac gives a half smile before accepting the medicine from you, “Thank you.”

You’re still gentle as you reply, “You’re very welcome.”

~~~

The next night turns into a better one as you go on your second date with Andrew. He takes you to a Barnes & Noble, buying you a book and a coffee inside. Sitting in the little indoor café, sipping hot drinks and nibbling on pastries, you discuss your favorite genres.

Andrew listens to you with bright eyes, a sweet smile on his face. He takes you back to his house after that, turning on a Disney movie like you agreed on the last date. It only took about twenty minutes before he was pulling your chin towards his.

The night ends with a long-winded makeout and a winter formal proposal.

You were fit to burst with the information the next day, wanting to talk to the girls about the whole thing – but Allison had been off the radar the last couple of days and Lydia was attending after practice parties with the lacrosse team.

No doubt scouting for her next boyfriend (and date to the formal).

The next best option was Stiles. He picks you up and takes you to the nearest gas station for drinks and treats. You grab all your favorites, including peach rings and a large orange creamsicle.

The perfect summer treats to remind you of your favorite season.

Stiles insists on paying for the load, throwing his gummy worms and sodas on the counter. “I’d slip you cash anyway if you tried to pay.” He’s amused by your sweet smile as you open the creamsicle.

He even opens the jeep door and holds all the packages before dumping them on the floor between you.

“You’re going to step on them as you drive,” you cry, reaching down to shove all the snacks towards your feet. You almost lose a line of melting orange from your creamsicle. You lick a long stripe up the cold pop, “Should we just stop at the park?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah sure,” he says, putting the jeep in gear. “You enjoying that popsicle?”

Your lips kiss the tip of the pop, embarrassed when it makes a slurping sound, “Of course, it’s the best desert besides cheesecake.” The park isn’t far from the gas station, Stiles parking in front of the field and playground, turning off the engine. You continue to kiss and lick the creamsicle until orange and white ice cream is coating your lips.

Stiles wonders what it would taste like to kiss it off.

“My mom used to take me to this park when I was little,” you say, settling against the door and kicking your feet onto the seats.

Stiles does the same, one leg bent onto the seats and the other off the edge, able to bounce if needs be. “My mom did too,” he adds, a finger at his temple and thumb at the beginning of his jawline. He considers you, “I can see you just dying to tell me what happened.” He says it with convincing eagerness, but his face is placid as he says it.

He chooses to focus on how you lick the last remnants of ice cream off the wooden stick. It made him squirm within five seconds.

“Well, Andrew did ask me to the winter formal,” you say in hushed tones, “But that isn’t the best part. We kissed again and not just a goodbye on the doorstep kind of kiss – like a on the couch with a movie in the background kind of kiss. It must’ve been like forty-five minutes before his parents got home.”

And before you knew it, you were delving into the details of the entire night, focusing on the exciting kiss at the end. You start to compare the kissing with other boys you’ve been with before, critiquing the skill level and any corresponding downsides.

You open the sugary peach rings, chewing on them as you say, “Overall, I’d give it a solid B or B-.”

“You’re kidding!” Stiles retorts, stretching a gummy worm between his fingers, “You just went off about how great it was.”

“Yeah, but…” you shrug, sticking a peach ring on the tip of your finger like it was a life preserver for it. “… his technique was a little much.”

Stiles bites the head off his gummy worm, “What do you mean?”

“He was kind of abrasive, I had to keep telling him to slow down.” At the look of confusion on Stiles’ face, you keep going – you forget that he’s never kissed anyone before. “From the first kiss it was like he was eating my face. They were very open mouthed, and he kept trying to use tongue. I finally told him to slow down after I felt our teeth knock a couple times.”

Stiles grimaces, “That doesn’t sound fun.”

“I didn’t peg him for being the aggressive kisser,” you shrug, “It might’ve been nice if I wasn’t so surprised – like I could’ve matched his energy a bit better.”

“So, you… wait – what kind of kissing do you like?”

You ponder the question, eating the peach preserver on your finger, “I like it slow at first, you know – like you hold a cheek and draw each other in. Then it should get heavier, like more firm kisses, and you usually start moving at that point. Like… you get closer and I might sit on his lap or something.” You pull apart another peach ring, playing with the sticky gumminess between your fingers, “Then I like it when… oh my god, this was another thing! He never left my mouth.”

Stiles was only able to listen because of (1) his feelings for you and (2) the possibility that he could get some pointers on how to charm you. He had to listen to your previous encounters – a very real knife of white hot pain stuck in his collarbone and digging down his sternum – but he was getting a front row seat to your kissing preferences.

“I thought that’s how kissing works?”

You throw a candy at him, and he chases it down his chest. “Yeah, one type of kissing. But that gets boring after ten minutes. I like it when they start to kiss my neck and chest. How did you think people got hickeys?”

Stiles grumbles, head drifting to not just your ice cream lips, but the warm pulse at your neck, and the beauty marks on your skin below that. He quickly understood the desire to kiss other parts of the body.

“I get it,” he says, taking another sip of his soda. He kept finding his throat going dry, “So start slow, get more intense, and don’t forget to kiss other areas.” He nods to himself, “And the tongue thing?”

You grimace, “It can be nice if they know what they’re doing.” You sigh, slouching against the car door, “Easton from down the street was a heavy tongue guy. Like he saw one couple frenching on tv and decided that was the best way to kiss. It was like… so so wet. My chin was covered in drool by the time he left.”

Stiles was already hot around the collar, skin splotchy with red and pink. But he was starting to get an awful anxious feeling in his stomach, “There are so many things to remember.”

You look endeared as you lean forward, “But when you’re with the right person, it just feels natural. You click like all the puzzle pieces fit between you. You stop thinking about all the details and just go with what feels good.”

He tilts his head, and he looks so nervous and curious, “Was that Adam from San Fransico?”

The breath catches in your throat for a second, “Nearly. It was like a first love. It did feel natural with him, but our puzzle pieces didn’t all fit right.”

Stiles bites at his lips, “I think I had something similar to that. Never to the point where we kissed, but… I kind of obsessed over Lydia for a couple years.”

Your eyes widen, “You’re kidding, our Lydia?”

He nods, embarrassed, “Our puzzle pieces didn’t fit right either. Come to think of it, it didn’t really feel natural either. I guess that’s a pretty crummy first love, huh?” He smiles like he pities himself.

You frown, so entirely endeared by him that you feel a warmth enter your chest at his somber expression. The desire to hold him and show him what it feels like to be natural and wanted came on hard and fast.

“You can always learn to be a good kisser,” you smile, “But yes, having your puzzle pieces all fit makes all the difference in the world.”

“And how did you learn to be a good kisser?” he asks, crumbling his candy wrappers and throwing them in the back.

“That’s a bold assumption,” you laugh, “I never said I was a good kisser.”

He shrugs, playing with the hem of his shirt now, “I can just tell. There’s no way you’re a bad kisser.”

You feel rosy at those words, “I just learned from trial and error. I never had a teacher or anything.”

“I bet you’d be an excellent teacher,” he mumbles. His eyes go wide, clamping his mouth shut, biting his tongue.

You’re giddy as you laugh, “There’s only one way to find out, I guess.” Your eyes trail around his mole-dotted skin, guiding you to his slightly chapped lips and the cupids bow that leads to his perked nose. You love how red and flushed his skin is.

“What are you implying, Miss. Westbrook?” His eyes are bright, but he is deadly still.

“I don’t know,” your hands go to your temples, laughing a bit breathlessly. “Must be a sugar rush, don’t mind me.” There is something hot and heavy filling the space of the jeep, and you suddenly want to open the window to let in some cold air. You feel Stiles’ eyes on you like a deer caught in the headlights.

The silence is deafening as you turn your peachy gaze to his. He is flushed and breathing heavy and…

You consider it.

“Friends can kiss.” You pout adorably as you reason, “Scott and I kissed.”

“Not willingly,” Stiles says in his breathless voice, a small smile curling his chapped lips.

You wave a hand, “It’s purely a teaching moment.”

“Exactly…”

“But we did already make a kissing pact.”

“We can null and void the whole pact. Make it invalid based on… new circumstances.” He looks deep into your eyes before snapping out of it, shaking his head. “Wait… no, I… kissing you (Y/N)…” he was really struggling, fidgeting in his seat. “I want to but… what if I’m a terrible kisser and you’re so nauseated by it that you never want to kiss me again? I don’t wanna – I don’t want to mess it up.”

You try to decipher the speech, fogginess entering your brain as you focus on the shadows dancing across his skin.

“It’s a chance you have to take,” a smile on the tip of your words, “I did say I would help you get your first kiss out of the way.”

He struggles for breath, “Does that mean the offer still stands… to happen right now?”

You inch across the seats, in the middle now and loving how Stiles was having such a visible reaction. He goes rigid, his mouth open and eyes turning desperate. He looks scared and wanting. It looks conflicting… and hot.

“If you really want a lesson right now.” You whisper it like a newfound secret, “Only if you want to.”

“If I want to?” he sounds disbelieving, “Of course I… I mean, I don’t think I could ever say no to you, (Y/N).”

Something blossoms in your chest and it’s warm and addictive, you chase after it – prompting you to get closer, “C’mere,” you say gently and smile at how responsive Stiles is. He moves forward like a puppy searching for a treat.

You raise a hand and pause right before touching his cheek, “You sure?”

“Positive,” he says immediately, nearly leaning into your hovering hand.

You smile, touching his face and winding your hand to under his ear, your thumb in the perfect position to rub along his cheekbone. His eyes flutter close and an inaudible sigh escapes his open mouth. With the tips of your fingers reaching the back of his neck, you pull his face closer to yours. You position him at a slight angle, and he responds to your direction instantly.

He opens his eyes to find your noses nearly touching. You’re both breathing shallow, sharing the air between you, feeling it breeze and dry against your lips. He smells like candy.

And you… you smell like orange cream and peachy sugar.

“Put one hand here,” you direct his hand to your waist. Your heads stay close, gazes flickering between eyes and lips. “And another here,” you put his other to the side of your neck. His hands are so large – his fingers so long – you feel them shake as they engulf the space between your neck and shoulder. His thumb rests on your jawline while the side of his pinky sits on your collarbone. “Do what feels natural,” you whisper. “It’ll come to you.”

One hand shakes on your waist, testing a light pressure while his other hand rests very warm against the side of your neck, afraid to move.

You tilt your head to match his and find his dark honey eyes illuminated by the park streetlamps. They were still slanted in nervous desperation. He didn’t dare move, but you can tell he wants to – wants to badly.

“Close your eyes,” you say quietly, and your lips barely brush against his as you speak.

His lids close instantly – he is so pliable under your hand.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, nervously twitching his fingers against your skin.

You smile, still looking at his eager expression as you brush your nose against his slightly upturned one. And then you slot your mouth on his bottom lip. You hold it there as he tenses, his hand gripping your waist suddenly – the other digging his fingertips in the soft skin of your neck.

You pull away a few inches and say, “There… you’ve had your first kiss.”

His lips search for you, leaning forward until his eyelids fly open, “What? That’s...” his throat bobs and he clenches his teeth so you see the muscle bulge on his jaw. “Any more things you can teach me?”

You lick your lips, giggles falling out of your mouth until he cracks a small smile. You put your forehead to his, smiling wide, “The night’s still young.” You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, “You need to relax. You’re super tense, mischief. I’m giving you permission to move your hands to whatever feels natural.”

At his quick question of hesitance, you continue, “I would tell you if anything made me uncomfortable. As long as you do too.”

He nods frantically, eager to go again with less nerves this time. Winding a hand to the back of his neck and into the short crop of his hair, you pull him towards your mouth. You kiss him softly but curiously.

You peck and move. Lip lock and switch sides. Press firmly and repeatedly. And slowly the tension falls from Stiles’ shoulders. He grips you with less anxiety and with more curiosity. A hand drags up your side, feeling the dip of your waist up to your ribcage and the line of your bra beneath your shirt. His hand drags down the same path, feeling all the same things before landing on your hips, thumb feeling the edge of your jeans.

His other hand finally relaxes, long fingers winding around your neck until his thumb is resting right on your artery. The pad of his thumb tickling under your jaw. He was being light and soft near your face, only using the pads of his fingers – while his other hand was searching with more pressure.

He was just going down to put his hand on your thigh to squeeze when your breathing hitches. He pulls away instantly, lips pinker than before and eyes wide with worry. His hands are off you in a second and you almost… almost… whine in protest.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Did I do something you didn’t like?”

You take a calming breath, slumping your shoulders, “No, in fact you’re taking my advice beautifully. You relaxed and started exploring – that’s one of the best parts about kissing someone new.” You brush a few strands of hair behind your ear, made loose when Stiles moved his hand to the back of your neck.

“Then why did…”

“I…” it was your turn to be shy, “I liked when you gripped my leg.”

Stiles widens his eyes with wonder now, “I made you make that noise?”

“Like I said, you take advice beautifully… and it works.”

He smiles wide, his turn to laugh at your endearing shyness. “Can we keep going?”

You match his smile and reply by going in for more kisses. This time you cup both his cheeks between your hands and Stiles squeaks in surprise. Both his hands land on your thighs, squeezing them under his larger palms.

You take a sharp intake of breath instead of making a noise, and Stiles fucking smiles against your lips.

Your hands touch his abdomen, and he sucks in taut, probably never having been touched there before. You quickly move up to his chest to find the expanse of his pectorals. Like you expected, Stiles isn’t rippled with worked muscle, but there’s a kind of lanky natural muscle beneath his shirt. You trail your hands up past his collarbones and around his shoulders. With your arms there you can pull him even closer.

He has to move his hands to the small of your back to remove any more space between you. He’s able to press you into him from that position.

Your hands search for his shoulder blades, fingers applying pressure there. His fingers were spreading wide against your lower back, thumbs wrapping around your waist while his fingertips touch your spine.

Your lips still fall into an easy pattern of firmly pressed kisses, switching sides and from top lip to bottom lip. Some are quick and rapid, others are longer and deeply felt. Your noses brush and press into cheeks as you struggle for air at times.

“When can I…” he kisses you, “…move from your mouth?”

You smile, kiss him, smile again. “Whenever it feels like…” you kiss again, “…the right thing to do next.”

He hums deep in his throat, moving his hands up your spine beneath your shoulders. Then he moves his lips. He places two quick kisses along your jaw and lands on your neck, right beneath the bend in your jaw. Your head falls back as he leaves chaste kisses there.

“Is this good?”

You breathe with your chest pressed against his, “You see how my head fell back? That means I like it and I’m giving you more access.”

He makes another low sound and it sends tingles of pleasure down to your core.

You keep a hand on his shoulder, supporting yourself while the other hand scrapes against his head, short hair bristles tickling your palm. You love the sound it pulls out of him.

“Open your mouth a little more,” you say, “Bigger kisses.”

He responds eagerly, excited to see what the change will do to you. His mouth opens more, leaving big, wet kisses under your ear and down your neck. A shiver runs through you, making your shoulders tense a little.

Then your watch starts to blare with an alarm.

Stiles flies off you like he was killing you, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he cries, backing away to assess you. “I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry.”

You steady yourself by gripping the back of the chair, realizing too little too late that your breathlessness was catching up to you. Your heart was working overtime. You lift your free hand, eyes scrunched as it gets harder to force air into your lungs.

“God, shit…” Stiles mumbles, coming closer again. He puts one hand on your chest, over your sternum. And his other hand holds the side of your face, thumb resting at your temple. “You feel my hand? Do you see it moving with your breaths? You need to move your breaths to your belly – your belly should move with breaths, not your chest. Try to make my hand stop moving.”

You look at him with watering eyes, your heart beating erratically in your ears. Stiles was counting the seconds until you start belly breathing – breathing with your diaphragm.

“There you go, that’s better.”

You slump into his neck and his hand wraps to the back of your head, the other to your back.

“That was unexpected,” you say quietly, lips tickling his neck.

He laughs, “I’m guessing you liked the other kisses more than the grabbing the thigh thing?”

“Maybe just a tad bit,” you say, “I told you I liked it beforehand.”

“You did,” he says, pulling you back to get a good look at your face. “You’re okay.”

You smile, “I’m okay.”

He starts to get this giddy look, “We kissed.”

“That we did.”

“Like a lot.”

“It was a lesson in many things.”

He screws up his lips, “And you liked it.”

“You take direction well.”

“I don’t know why guys don’t ask more,” he marvels, “It would make every makeout exactly what you want.”

“You are a rare breed,” you bite your lip and his eyes dart to look. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it.”

His quick answer pulled a laugh out of you. And once you start, you can’t stop. Stiles finds it cute and finds himself laughing too. Just two friends giggling in the car after an impromptu round of kissing. It was warm and light and felt… good.

“I don’t think you need to worry about messing things up with the next girl,” you say, scooting back to your side of the car, “You’ll do just fine.”

His laughing stops abruptly. “The next girl?”

“Yeah…?” you smile with a furrowed brow. “You wanted to learn to be a good kisser, right? To have your first kiss out of the way for any future girls?”

He looks put out, slightly angry, and… defeated. “Right, we had that pact.”

“Right,” you say, wondering what was miscommunicated between you two. “Maybe we should… head home for the night.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, looking for his keys, “Andrew will probably be sending you a goodnight text any second now.”

You scrunch your brow, lips resting in a frown as he turns the jeep on. You’re quick to notice the steamy windows from your hot and heavy kissing. You would’ve laughed at it if you didn’t feel like something was off in Stiles.

With the air conditioning and heater broken, you roll down the windows and Stiles tells you to stay in the car as he wipes down all others outside.

You watch him with a finger between your teeth. Did you just mess up?

~~~

You spend the next couple days trying to convince yourself that kissing Stiles was simply practice kissing. There wasn’t anything past friendly feelings between you two. It was a no strings attached kind of makeout.

It had to be.

You didn’t have feelings for Stiles. You were going out with Andrew Wickstrom for gods sake.

And again you feel guilty. If you acknowledge any interest in Stiles, then kissing him was a betrayal to Andrew.

But it’s not like you were seriously dating Andrew.

But maybe to him you are.

You hadn’t found a reason to talk to Scott and Stiles outside your friendly conversations at school. Scott didn’t usually text you, but Stiles? If he couldn’t think of a good enough reason to climb the garden trellis, he would text you about the most random things.

Facts about honeybees, star wars memes, updates on a Dateline investigation you were following, werewolf puns, and links to things he thought would make you smile.

Recently? He hasn’t texted you at all. While he wasn’t avoiding you at school, he sure as hell was when you were home.

You are currently in the mall with Lydia and Allison, picking out dresses for the winter formal. All three of you are acting distant and suspicious of each other, which is not a good look for the pretty girls club.

Getting onto an escalator, you question Allison about her frequent absences.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she says, “I just have a lot on my mind.”

You wonder if there’s been a recently discovered secret in her family – maybe like a kidnapped werewolf?

“But Jackson’s taking you to the formal,” you say, “That was nice of him.”

“Yeah, just two recently broken up friends supporting each other by going to the school dance,” Allison says with smiling sarcasm. “And what dumb, roided-up jock did you say yes to?” she asks Lydia.

“Ben Manley,” Lydia sighs, “More of a himbo if you ask me, but he’ll look good in the pictures.” She drags you two towards the prom dress section, quick to pull dresses to try on. She’s four hangers in by the time you find one you like.

“Advice,” you say to Allison, “Do I care if my surgery scars show, or do I go with a collar that climbs up to my neck?” You hold up one deep blue dress that has a lower heart-shaped neckline and another soft purple dress with a small v-neck shape that stops just under the collarbone.

Allison considers for a second, “The blue is more flattering, and you’d look great in that color. I’d say screw whoever doesn’t like you for your scars. They’re the reminder that you’re still alive.”

“Damn, okay,” you smile, “I’m going to try the blue one on.” You fling the purple chiffon dress onto a mannequin display and head for the dressing rooms.

Lydia is there with a small pile of dresses she’s already said no to. You talk to her loudly between the dressing cubicles.

“How’s it looking?”

“The cream chrome one is promising,” she says, “Hey, are we hanging out after this? I’ve got a new foot soaker I want to try. We can do mani pedis before the dance.”

You shimmy into your blue gown, loving how it flairs at your waist in beautiful night sky sparkles. “Yeah, I’d love a sleepover! It’ll be the perfect way to get ready for the dance.” There are two thick straps of the same dark blue fabric that go over your shoulders. The neckline falls lower in a heart shape, outlining the curve of your breasts and revealing your arms and chest.

The scar from your heart defect correction is less raised, less discolored, and less noticeable – but you see it run down the center of your chest. The small, three-inch incision scar from last summer is newer and still red and raised above your heart. And finally the four deep claw marks that dig around your left shoulder and arm – they leave actual divots in your flesh, and you can’t help running a finger over them. They went up and down like tiny rollercoasters.

“Get out here, Westbrook. I want to see if it’s a keeper.”

You take a deep breath, shaking your fingers through your hair to give it more volume. You step into the hallway and find Lydia in a shiny cream colored dress, complete with a black flower in her hair.

“You look amazing,” you say, smiling, “And the dress really shows off your legs. You gotta pair it with a heel.”

“I look amazing?” Lydia gawks, “Look at how flattering that one is on you! It doesn’t flair out like a ballgown, but enough to give you an airy look. And the top is stunning, it fits your figure well.” She doesn’t even mention the scars.

You grin, “I think that settles it. We’ve got our winners.” Lydia goes to change, and you agree to show Allison since she picked the dress for you.

You walk out barefoot, lifting your dress a little to give you easier access to walk faster. You find Allison holding a funny feathered dress to a mirror. It takes you a second to realize that she isn’t alone.

A man is there holding a silver dress to her figure. A man you recognize at a second glance.

It was Peter Hale, one of your long-term patients at the hospital – and the Alpha.

You run over, calling for Allison’s attention, “What do you think?”

She looks grateful to be rescued, “Absolutely beautiful, (Y/N). That’s the one for sure.”

“(Y/N)?” Peter says, “Ah, yes – you look stunning.” He goes to shake your hand, “Peter.”

You hesitate. He’s playing the ‘never-met-you-before’ coverup. “I think I’ve seen you before. Maybe… at the hospital? That’s where I work.”

He has a clever smirk on his face as he retracts his hand, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Somewhere else maybe…” you stare him down. “Like the local video store perhaps.”

“Never been much into movies,” but he does look at your exposed skin to admire his handywork to your shoulder, “You’ve got quite the collection there.” He smiles, “Wearing them like badges of honor.”

“Like a friend said,” you say, chin held high. “They’re a reminder that I’m still alive.”

He still has that subtle smirk, otherwise very rigid and unsettling, “Yes, you are.” He sounds like he would add, ‘not for long’ to the end of that.

The PA system comes on and a fuzzy woman’s voice says, “Attention, shoppers. The owner of a blue Mazda, your car is being towed.”

“What?” Allison says, “That’s my car!” She runs to find the front desk or the car outside.

You’re left with Peter, barefoot and in a pretty starry dress. He looks to you with a plain expression that held sinister notions regardless.

“Well played,” he mutters, “Scott.” You don’t dare look away from him as he talks to the thin air. “Just remember… you can’t be everywhere all the time.” He looks to you with roaming eyes, “It’s been nice seeing you, (Y/N). I’m glad you like my addition to your complexion so much. It makes me think you may want more to add to this masterpiece.”

You hate the way he stays there to gauge your reaction. You stand firm, but your fingers dig into the fabric of your dress.

“You really do look stunning in that dress,” he smiles, “It’d be a shame if it got shredded.” He walks away, leaving you feeling strangely violated and targeted. You feel angry and unsafe.

Scott was at your side in seconds, grabbing your arms, “(Y/N)? Are you okay?”

You take a shaky breath, “He’s a persistent bastard.”

“Yeah, and he’s just threatened to attack you – probably at the dance judging by how he complimented your dress.” He stands straight, listening for Lydia or Allison. “Listen, I heard how you’re having a sleepover tonight. That’d leave me free to…”

“I’ll look after the girls,” you smile, still cold and shaky from the encounter. “You look after your mom and the boys.”

He gives you a look, clearing his throat, “Right, course.”

You squint your brow, “What has Stiles told you?”

Scott scratches at his head, looking anywhere but you, “Nothing much, he’s been quiet these days.”

“Impossible,” you snort, “You may be a super cool teenage werewolf, Scott – but you are a terrible liar.”

He looks defeated, “Look, he told me how you guys kissed and he’s… he’s kind of hung up on it.”

“In what way?”

He bites his lip, looking painfully awkward, “He doesn’t want you thinking it was a mistake. He’s… scared you regret it.” Scott shoves his hands in his pockets, “He realizes it might be weird trying to be friends, and you with Andrew… he’s trying to keep the friendship civil.”

“Civil?” you scoff, “It was a no feelings kiss.”

Scott keeps his mouth shut, nodding his head and backing away, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

Your mouth is left hanging open as he walks away. Did you feel regret for the kissing? You put one hand on the silken fabric covering your hip, the other hand going to rub away the worry lines in your forehead.

Did you feel guilty because you had been going on dates with Andrew? Had you ever set clear expectations with Andrew before? If he felt like this was taking a direction into serious relationship territory, you would definitely feel guilty.

And Stiles not being completely himself…? Was that really because he was worried you thought the kiss was a mistake? Or was it because of some other unknown reason.

Returning to the dressing rooms, you knew one thing was for sure. You were in desperate need of a girls night.

~~~

In the second story living room of the Martin house, you three spend hours into the night pampering yourselves and raving about whatever came to mind.

When Harry Met Sally plays quietly on the tv in front of you, Allison leaning onto the couch and painting her toes a white color.

“I hope I don’t smudge these before they dry.”

“Here’s a fast drying topcoat you can put on them,” Lydia tosses a small clear polish. She was stuck in the armchair beside the couch with her feet bubbling in the new foot soaker. “I think I’m going to go with black for my toes. Maybe black French tips with my fingernails.” She admires her hands as you place the black polish bottle near her for later use.

You sit between the two, your toes drying an inky blue color while you prepare to paint your nails. You unscrew a pretty sapphire blue. “Can I ask you guys something?”

“Please,” Lydia pouts, leaning back in her chair.

“Do you consider Andrew and I in a serious relationship?”

Allison frowns, focusing on her brush strokes, “Um… maybe? You guys have been dating exclusively, right?”

“Only two dates.”

“No,” Lydia clicks her tongue, “You guys have had two dates and a few noncommittal kisses. I don’t think that means you’re dating seriously.”

Allison dips her brush again, “But if you’re not seeing anyone else then people will think you’re exclusive.”

“But what if I have seen someone else,” you shrug, “I guess that doesn’t matter if Andrew thinks something different.”

There was a splash, “Hold the phone. Are you saying you’ve gone out with someone else recently?”

You pull an indecisive face, “Well, no – just maybe had a… makeout.”

Allison gasps while Lydia giggles, “Oh my god, with who?!”

“I don’t know if I want to talk about it yet.”

“Well, if you’re kissing other boys then you definitely don’t think you’re seriously dating,” Allison shakes her head, “Does Andrew?”

Your shoulders tense as you focus on your nails, “I don’t know. We never had a ‘what are we’ talk. And I never told him I didn’t want anything serious.”

“Ouch,” Allison grimaces, “I think he really likes you.” 

Lydia has her arms folded tightly, “Was it Josh Arnett?”

“Gross,” you accuse, “Absolutely not.”

“Tanner Humphries?”

“No, Lydia,” you huff, “What do I tell Andrew?”

Allison stretches her legs out and wiggles her newly painted toes, “You tell him the truth. At least, you tell him you don’t want anything serious.”

“I bet it was Lucas McCrary,” Lydia muses.

“Should I do that before the dance?” you ignore Lydia. “I think it’ll hurt him.”

Allison fishes in the bucket of self-care on the couch cushion, “It’s better than leading him on further.” She extracts an avocado sheet mask.

“Was it at least someone on the lacrosse team?” Lydia interjects.

You give a tired smile, “Because those are the only boys you know?”

“The only boys I care about.”

You finish one hand and ask Allison to help with the other, “What if Andrew decides he doesn’t want to take me to the dance anymore?”

“Then…” Allison takes the sapphire blue from you, “You go stag and hangout with us. I have a suspicion that Jackson isn’t going to be the most enjoyable date.”

“Oh! Please tell me it was Tyler O’Connell – no girl can get her hands on him.”

You laugh and faceplant into the couch, “Tyler O’Connell is gay. Danny has had a little crush on him for months.”

“Huh,” she huffs, “I’m usually good at catching those things.”

“I think I’ll talk to him after school tomorrow,” you rub your worry lines with your free hand. “If anything Allison, you and I could just be each other’s dates.”

“I have a feeling I’ll be abandoned by the end of the night with how Jackson’s been acting,” she sighs, doing a second coat on your nails. “I wouldn’t mind a sweethearts dance with you.”

Lydia is having an existential crisis in the armchair, confined with her feet in the soaker. “Well, it can’t be Cameron Sanchez because he’s going with that Brittany girl in homeroom. It’s not Henry, is it?”

“What’s with the tone?” you giggle, “I like Henry Greenburg even if Coach is a little harsh with him.”

“What about…” she widens her eyes, “What about dork #2?”

Allison freezes with the paintbrush still on your nail. You take a moment to decipher what Lydia just asked.

“Who is…” you clamp your mouth into a thin line.

“Oh my god!” Lydia stands with her feet still in the soaker.

Allison flinches, “Holy shit.” She looks at your nails, “Oh, shit – I’m sorry, (Y/N).” She takes a cotton swab to fix the smudge of blue going down your ring finger. “I just… I mean…”

“What was that dorks name?” Lydia squeals, waving her hands frantically and snapping at Allison. “He’s – god, what’s his name!” She looks ridiculous being rooted to one spot but moving her upper torso like a madwoman, “He’s the little weirdo… the idiot in love!”

Your face is positively blooming red, it’s scorching, as you bury your face in a couch pillow. Allison is quick to correct her mistake to your nails, replying in a much calmer and heartwarming voice. “Stiles Stilinski.”

“Stiles!” Lydia cries in triumph before frowning, “That’s his name?”

“Yes,” you cry out, “Yes, Stiles. And it was another noncommittal kiss. It was absolutely no feelings. I was just helping him out.” In your embarrassment you slap your free hand to cover your mouth, “God, don’t ask me why,” you mumble.

Allison waits for Lydia to ask – like she knew she would.

“Why?” Lydia says, still standing in the foot soaker.

“It doesn’t matter,” you pat at your flaming hot cheeks, “What matters is that I did kiss him, and I need to clarify with Andrew that I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“I knew he was going to grow on you,” Allison mumbles with a sweet smile on her face. She finishes doing your nails and sits back on the couch. “He’s been obsessed with you for months now.”

You shake your head, “Stiles is just… very enthusiastic. He was just excited about getting a kiss.”

“From you,” Allison smirks.

Lydia is jumping out of the foot soaker and toweling her feet, “At least he’s on the lacrosse team.”

You blow out a breath and hope it calms the redness in your face. “It’s not like that. He’s…” you hesitate. “He’s a good friend.”

Allison grimaces, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

~~~

You wring your hands as you pace at the end of the hall, next to the vending machines. You wait for Andrew to leave his last class, the bell having just rung. It was eating at you thinking of a way to talk to him without hurting his feelings.

But there was no way around it – even if the dance was in two days, you weren’t going to continue playing with Andrew’s feelings.

The tall, dimpled boy comes out and sees you instantly. He smiles and jogs to reach you, excited to see you waiting.

Shit.

“Hey,” he gives you a hug and a kiss to the cheek, “How are you?”

You swallow hard, “I wanted to talk to you about something.” You pick and pull at your fingers, looking up at him with a face that scares him.

He furrows his brow, nodding his head toward the empty ceramics classroom. There weren’t any art classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. “Then let’s go talk.” He guides the way and opens the door for you.

You have a terrible guilty feeling in your stomach. You’ve never had to let someone down before.

Among the desks with spinning wheels dusted with dry clay, you stand in the middle of the room. “Andrew… I wanted to ask what you see between us… for the future.”

He still looks skeptical, but there’s a smile enveloping his face. “Well, I’ve liked how our dates have been so far. And I really like you, (Y/N).” His dimples are out full force, shadowed by the dim lighting. “I want to see where this goes. I think we could get serious. I’m – I’m looking for something serious. But… I want to hear what you have to say first.”

You pinch your fingertips, “Um… well I’m glad we’re having this talk.” You swallow thickly and the smile on Andrew’s face dips. “I… I’m not looking for something serious.”

“Oh,” Andrew says dryly. His face is in full shadow now. “I see, uh… have you always felt that way?”

You nod while you try to find your voice again. The look of hurt on his face was making the guilt in your stomach flare tenfold. “I don’t want a boyfriend in high school.”

He nods slower, looking to the ground. “I wish I knew that sooner.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I should’ve been more clear in the beginning. I thought we were just having some fun.”

“Fun,” he laughs sardonically. “No, I should’ve been more honest with what I was looking for.” His eyes were sad, but he put a smile on his face. “I’m glad you told me.”

You nod, desperate for his words. “I totally understand not wanting to see each other anymore…”

“That would probably be for the best,” he runs a hand through his curly hair.

“And… and we can go separately to the dance,” you say quickly, “I don’t mind.”

He looks at you with slight concern, “I don’t want you to go alone.”

“I have some friends I can go with.”

The room feels smaller, colder than you remember. It was an awful feeling telling someone you don’t like them in that way. You did not like hurting people.

Andrew was nodding to himself in agreement, “Then I hope you have a good time with your friends.”

He was being so kind to you when you felt you didn’t deserve it. It was your fault he was sad. Your fault that he didn’t have a date for the dance. Your fault that his feelings were being hurt now.

A stinging was building behind your eyes. “Thank you. I hope you do find someone to be serious with. You deserve it.” A lump builds in your throat, “You’re a good guy, Andrew.”

He sighs deeply, “I guess I’ll see you later then.”

“Sure,” you say quietly, voice being overtaken by emotion. And you’re left in the dark, cold room. Guilt eating at you and shame whispering terrible things in your ear. You almost wish he had blown up about it; yelled at you for not being completely honest in the beginning. It hurt worse hearing his quiet acceptance of the rejection.

You’re grateful the classroom is abandoned when a tear falls from your eye.

~~~

“Why didn’t you stop by Lydia’s house?” Stiles accuses, arms in the air, “That was prime time to overhear girl talk!”

“I wasn’t going to spy and eavesdrop,” Scott scolds, leading the way out of their last class of the day. “That wouldn’t be right when I still need to keep you and Jackson safe.”

Stiles rubs harshly at his face, silly noises of outrage spilling out, “But how else am I going to hear how (Y/N) feels about the whole jeep-makeout thing?!”

“I don’t know, talk to her?” Scott deadpans.

“Yeah, right,” Stiles scoffs, “I’m such an idiot. How else is she supposed to feel about it? She told me she doesn’t date seriously, and she told you how it happened with no feelings…” A white hot pain stabs his sternum, his heart roiling excruciatingly. “I just… I wanted it to be real.”

Scott sighs, pulling at his too long hair, “Listen, if she is seeing you in a friends with benefits kind of way, I don’t see why you can’t give it a shot.”

For a few moments Stiles dwells on the thought of having all the benefits of a relationship without commitment. It was tempting but... “I want more than that.”

“Wow,” Scott raises his eyebrows, “I’ve never heard such mature words leave your mouth before.”

“Shut up,” Stiles groans, “I just wish she’d talk to me!” He goes for one of the back doors by the vending machines, “She does this thing where she tells me the truth without the whole truth.”

“You mean with her heart?”

Stiles rubs hard at his eyes, “It’s got to be the reason for everything. I tried to get my dad to tell me about it and he pulled the ‘doctor-patient-confidentiality’ thing on me.” He grumbles, letting his backpack drop from his shoulders, “I’ve never… I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on like this.”

Scott sits on a hallway bench, watching his friend wallow in his self-pity and broken heart. “It starts out that way. But it gets easier.”

“What do you know about unrequited love, genius?” Stiles puts his hands on his hips, “You got to be Allison’s boyfriend with the dating and the kissing and the feeling her up…”

“Watch your mouth,” Scott points a finger.

Stiles slumps to the floor and against the stone wall. “And now we’re all targets in a major werewolf operation. How do you think the dance is going to go?”

“I don’t know. I’m still going to be there,” Scott says with a sad smile, “Even if Coach is up my ass.” He stands from the bench, “I should probably find a suit before my shift at the vet clinic.”

“Yeah,” Stiles mumbles, lifting a few fingers in a goodbye, “I’m gonna grab a snack before I go – see you later.”

It took another minute before Stiles could get off the ground. Thoughts of you swirling permanently there. The feel of your warm, soft skin. The pressure of your lips on his. The thrill of hearing you react to the things he was doing. He could still smell the sweet fruity scent of your hair, your lips sticky sweet with sugar.

Had it all been a dream? You sure acted like it with how the whole night was yet to be a topic of conversation.

But the feel of you, as dreamlike as it had been, was grounded in his mind like a chain to a wall. He would never forget how your head fell back, how your fingers went through his hair, how your lips fit so well between his own. Fit like a puzzle piece.

He thought that the kiss would lessen his ache of unrequited love – that he would have at least gotten a taste. But sitting there with the deep ache beating a little stronger in his chest – he knew it was going to be even more painful to be around you and not spout what he was feeling.

Like he told Scott, he wanted more. It was more than the sugar left on your lips. It was the way his dad smiled at the homecooked meal. The way he felt he could mention his mom around you. The fact that you were the first girl he could be alone with and not feel completely at a loss.

He rubs his forehead again, standing as though lead was in his stomach. He felt nauseous. It was making him sick how much he wanted you.

Then an empty classroom door swings open and Andrew Wickstrom walks out, head down and expression bleak.

He walks right out the back doors into the late afternoon light. And the slump in his shoulders made Stiles curious. All thoughts of a snack out of his mind, he stands, abandoning his backpack, and inches toward the empty classroom.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but seeing you standing there, holding yourself as tears fell from your eyes was not it.

The deep ache in his chest pulses like it yearns for you. Having you in his vision was enough to make the roiling in his heart pucker with hope. But the lead in his stomach becomes heavier as he pushes the door open.

“(Y/N)?”

You snap your wet eyes to him, “Stiles, what are you doing here?”

He continues to inch forward, eyes never leaving your face, “I was just going to stop by the vending machines before heading out.” He stops a few feet from you, “What happened?”

You sniff, wiping at your eyes that just continue to stream. “I told Andrew I don’t want anything serious.” Your brow is furrowed into permanent lines, face screwed up like it’ll stop whatever emotion is trying to get out. “And he was pretty hurt by it.”

Stiles takes another step forward, fingers twitching at his sides. Was it okay to touch you? “Andrew doesn’t seem like the type to get real upset by a breakup.”

“He was being so kind to me,” you hiccup as you continue to hold back, “And I was hurting him.”

“But you were being honest, which is better than leading him on,” Stiles says quietly. He’s now just a foot away from you.

“I’ve never had to turn someone away like that,” more tears were cascading down your face, much to your chagrin, “It did not feel good.”

Stiles lifts one of his hands, meaning to touch your shoulder, but you accept it as an invitation for a hug. He almost sighs in relief and wraps his arms around you tightly, keeping you pressed to him like it would staunch the ache in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your strawberry scented hair, “If it had to be with anyone, though – I’m glad that it was Wickstrom. He is a good guy.”

You sigh and it stutters with emotion, “It’s all my fault.” You nuzzle into his shoulder, “If I was braver I would’ve kept it going.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles was holding your waist with one hand and rubbing up and down your spine with the other.

“If I was braver, I’d get into a relationship.” You let the tears run from your cheeks and soak into Stiles’ shirt. “I’m a coward.”

Stiles runs his fingers down your back in a soothing motion, “It’s okay not to be ready for a relationship.”

“That’s not it,” you pull away, wiping at the tears making your skin itch. “I’m sorry, I’m talking nonsense.”

“No! No, wait…” Stiles was getting desperate, “You don’t have to stop there. (Y/N), I want to know what’s wrong. I want to know why. Please don’t brush it off like it’s nothing – I can see how it bothers you.”

You shake your head, trying to swallow past the lump in your throat. “Trust me, this is not the time and place for that conversation.”

Stiles pinches his lips together, finding it more difficult to be patient. “What could be so terrible that you avoid it this badly?”

There’s a heavy silence and you open your mouth like you’re about to say something. He can see it on the tip of your tongue, eyes shiny and cheeks raw. It looks painful for you to say it out loud. He feels instant regret for trying to force it out of you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, walking over to pull you into a quick, but firm, apology hug. “I’m sorry, I just want to help. I hate seeing you like this.”

You gulp, “I… I think I’ll be able to tell you soon. I just… right now with… it’s not the right time.”

He nods quickly, “I get it.” He puts some space between you, watching your face carefully, ready to catch you should your heart give out. He puts a thumb between your brows and wiggles it around like it’ll ease the tension enough to remove the lines of worry.

You melt a little, a smile curling the sides of your mouth, “I’m sorry you walked in on that.”

He shrugs, “I’m not sorry at all.”

You take a deep breath, remembering to fill your belly with it and not your chest. “I guess I’m going to the dance without a date now.”

There’s a leap in his chest and Stiles wonders if his heart was the one about to give out. “I can take you!” he says before you even finish your sentence.

You smile wide this time, “I probably shouldn’t go with another boy after just breaking things off with Andrew. I am going with Allison and Lydia, though.”

His leaping heart crash lands, “Sure, right – that makes sense.” He’s grateful for the dimly lit classroom keeping his embarrassment blush in shadow. “I’ll still be there though, for a dance or two.”

“I’d like that,” you grin, eyes bright but no longer tear-filled. “Could I get a ride?”

“Always.”

~~~

Melissa trades patient files with you at the newly refurbished nurses station. You exchange some words of note about certain patients on the floor. She reminds you to drink more water and you remind her to take a break.

She smiles at your avoidance, “How are the dance preparations going?”

You show her the shiny blue nail polish on your fingers.

She squeals and admires them, “Ah, I miss dances. And the dress?”

“Like starlight,” you breathe, taking a twirl around the hall, “But with flats because I am not venturing into battle in four-inch heels.”

Melissa sighs, “Dances are so much more fun with girls. Scott refuses to show me his suit and he’s never home anymore.” She leans against the counter, “I hope he’s okay.”

You give a thin smile, “He’s doing his best. With Allison and lacrosse and his grades… he’s doing his best. Trying to do more than that actually.”

“He expects a lot of himself,” Melissa nods. “I’m glad he has friends like you with him.” She checks her watch when she asks, “And the Andrew thing?”

“Over,” you shrug, a day after the breakup and still a little tender. “We wanted different things, and I thought it best not to drag it out.”

“Man, better than just ghosting him,” she says with a bitter tone, “How mature of you.”

You remember the terrible date she went on with Peter Hale. Jackass. “It was the right thing to do. And I’ll just save a few dances for my friends. It’ll still be a nice night.” You sit in a swivel chair, arms folded, “There’s no way I’m going to miss my chance to go to a school dance.”

Melissa gives you a soft, sad smile, “Well, kiddo – I’m off to make my rounds. Mr. Hendrickson has been calling my button for the last ten minutes. I swear I’m going to take his tv away if he keeps asking me how to change the channels.”

You laugh, saluting her off, and returning to the rest of your charting. You were just marking when you administered medications when a soft tap to your counter caught your attention.

Standing there was Scott and Stiles.

“Hello,” you say cheerfully, “How are my boys?”

Both lift their hands to reveal brown paper bags. Scott grins, “We might’ve brought you guys dinner?”

“Greasy takeout,” Stiles corrects, “But edible enough for dinner.”

You sigh, heart warmed, “Well, your mom just went into room 18 down the hall,” you point, “But we can take our break when she gets back.”

“No, I’ll wait for her,” Scott says quickly, already down the hall, “We’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Stiles shrugs at your look of suspicion, “Where do you usually eat?”

You lead Stiles from the elevators to the hospital cafeteria. There you find a round table by the windows to sit. It was dark outside with the perfect view of the moon over the mountains. Stiles seems a little uncomfortable as he follows you through the building.

He keeps looking behind his shoulder and peering into patient rooms with big eyes.

“Burgers and fries?” you ask hopefully.

Stiles lays the meal out on grease stained napkins, “Bon Appetit.”

You lean into him, “Thank you, I wasn’t planning on dinner tonight.” You start with your fries as he looks at you with contempt.

“Because that’s a great idea with your prone to fainting condition.”

“Why did you guys really stop by?” you always start with your fries, saving the main meal for last. You focus on them as Stiles thinks of something to say, eating his hamburger like it was his first meal in days.

He gives a funny half shrug, “Scott needed to check on his mom with his whole ‘patrolling-the-pack’ schedule. He asked if I wanted to come, and we came up with the excuse of getting us all dinner.”

“Brilliant,” you say, finding that the drink he brought was filled with your favorite soda. “Any news from the Alpha?”

“Not since you guys went dress shopping,” he wipes at his mouth with his sleeve. “Which, by the way, I would’ve loved to come to.”

“No you wouldn’t of,” you laugh, “Helping girls carry their dresses and waiting forever to critique every outfit with the same indifferent words… sounds terribly boring.”

He takes a deep breath as he downs his drink. “Sounds like fun. Helping you pick out a dress? I’d run out the red carpet so you could practice your model walk. We’d play montage music with different colored lights. We can make trying on dresses fun.”

“I don’t know how to model walk,” you giggle.

He nods in mock seriousness, “You just have to look like you’re about to sneeze and the thing you’re wearing is giving you a massive wedgie.” He moves his shoulders around in a pretend walking motion, his face slightly pinched like his nose was itching.

You were laughing by the time he coached you into making the same ridiculous face. Then he flinched when a group of resident doctors walked in loudly, ready for their dinner. He looks uncomfortable again, picking at his fries half-heartedly.

You consider him for a minute, “You don’t like hospitals, do you?”

He huffs a laugh, “What gave you that idea?”

“You’re being more twitchy than usual.”

He eyes you, “I’ve been here plenty of times, you haven’t made that observation before.”

“You’re really thinking about it today,” you press, “Is something wrong?”

He ticks his jaw, playing with his fries. “I used to eat in here a lot… when my mom was here.”

Your chest goes tight. Of course it has something to do with his mom, “Stiles, I’m…”

“My dad used to leave me here when he went to work,” he keeps going, “The nurses were all my friends, and I ate dinner in the cafeteria all the time. They would save an extra chocolate pudding for me sometimes.” He smiles in painful fondness, “I was alone when… when she…”

He couldn’t say it.

You scooch closer to him, letting him talk without you interrogating him. He looks at your eager expression with a soft smile, “She had frontotemporal dementia.” He leans closer to you subconsciously, enjoying the security he felt near you.

“It started with little things like she couldn’t pick up her keys and she wouldn’t sleep at night. Then she couldn’t function at her job, so she stayed home. Then she started to get… scary.” He takes a deep swallow, “She started seeing things – hallucinations – and became paranoid sometimes. We had to hospitalize her soon after that.”

You knew the symptoms of frontotemporal dementia. Some of the long-term patients at the hospital had dementia. But you let him continue to talk without your input. You could guess that he didn’t talk about his mom very often, especially her death.

You put a hand on his arm as silent support.

He takes a breath at your touch, “When I’d visit, I didn’t know if I’d see my mom or the patient dealing with dementia.” His eyes look a little glassy as he continues, “It was hard spending so much time here. I knew she wasn’t going to come home. And then one night when my dad was on call… it was just me at her bedside.”

You rub your thumb into his forearm, “How old were you?”

“Eight,” he says, sniffling as the emotion burns his throat. “Seeing her deteriorate that fast… it was awful.” His lip trembles, “That was my mom, you know?”

You move your arm around his back, resting your head on his shoulder. It was a hug you could give while sitting at a table. “I know.” You squeeze him tight, “It must’ve been horrible.”

His breathing was shaky, “It was,” he rubs roughly at his eyes, “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Not even Derek Hale.”

“What about Mr. Harris?”

He makes a considering face, a smile curling his lips. “Maybe.”

You pinch him, “That’s terrible.” You trail your fingers across his back, looking for more tears, “Why tell me?”

He watches you wipe away a tear before it reaches his chin, “Because I wanted you to know.” He shrugs, eyes a little redder, “I like you, and I trust you.”

You watch him with rosy cheeks. An immense feeling of pride was swelling in your chest. Stiles chose you, out of dozens of people, to talk about the death of his mom. A horribly sensitive subject for him. He had gone out of his way to be in an environment that reminded him of uncomfortable things to bring you dinner. He opened up to you and gave you a large part of his heart.

He was doing it partially to tell you things he wanted you to know – things you needed to know to be close to him – but also to partially tell you that it was okay to open up about horribly sensitive stuff.

He wanted to hear your story too.

But how could you now? You feel a pang in your chest. How could you explain to Stiles that you would reach a similar end before too long. An end like his moms.

~~~

Taglist: @assassinsasha23 @tasty-book-fans @lovelybaka @the-fandom-queen @runs-with-sciss0rs @iamaslytherin0 @n3muru @bethsvrse @taylorbrooke-0912 @iloveyou2mia @everrrsincenewyork @gisellesprettylies @dullypully @taylordaughter @greenoliveslover

[lacythoughts]

stiles storms into the loft, arms full of bags because he just spent 4 hours in spirit halloween and he cannot be responsible for his own actions when he steps foot into that store. 'i can't believe you forgot to buy the candy!'

one minute he's rushing to put the bags down because they hurt, they're heavy, he is only but a human, ok?? he had at least 5 on each arm, he should win an olymlic gold medal or something.

and then the next minute he has a pair of werewolf arms wrapped around his waist and lips brushing against the back of his neck. 'why do i need candy when i got someone as sweet as you?'

stiles blushes because this whole thing with derek is still new and he would have not believed anyone if they told him the alpha is a sap. a big ol' sticky piece of werewolf sap.

he finds the bowl that has a skeleton relaxing in it like he's taking a bath, limbs hanging out and all, 'oh ok, so I guess i'll go put myself out in the candy bowl for all the moms and dads and age appropriate trick or treaters to take a piece of me.'

derek moves stiles to the side and rips at least 6 bags of candy into the bowl, he's making a mess honestly, all while flashing his deep red eyes and growling at stiles. he even shows a little bit of fang.

the human smirks, 'that's what i thought.'

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Thoughts on this as a Sterek AU?:

The vibe of the children librarian is definitely stiles but I think it would be cute if Derek was the children librarian so instead we have this:

Stiles wanted to work with children like his mother did, and the library was the best place. It had become his safe refuge during his mother’s sickness and he hoped to make it a safe place for other children. But he was also hired to keep track of the more magical books.

Derek has hired by the sweet old lady, Ms Beatrice, who ran the beacon hills library. Derek was pretty sure she was immortal. She took one look at him and decided to ignore all the gossip surrounding his name. He was put to work on the front desk because Ms Beatrice thought that would help the rumours and force Derek to interact with people. But also as a werewolf he would how to direct other supernaturals on what research they would need.

When stiles was hired Derek was definitely curious. As there was this bright eyed human who had the softest voice when working with children, but could turn around and insult you with the most venom Derek had ever heard. Stiles wore the most outlandish outfits but somehow looked absolutely ethereal in them. Not to mention seeing the stunning man working with children with his neck on display was ruining Derek’s control of his wolf. Beatrice thinks this this is completely hilarious.

Stiles knows how he acts compared to the other librarians, where he worked. Especially Derek hale, who brightest outfit that stiles had seen him wear, was a medium grey shirt. Not that he looked bad in it. Stiles had struck up a conversation with him a few times, but Derek alway responded with one or two word answers before he turned away. Most people would be off put by this but not Stiles.

Stiles had seen the way that Derek would interact with the quieter kids who didn’t feel comfortable enough around Stiles. With his small smile and bunny teeth, Stiles was so completely over his head. He also saw how Derek would curl in on himself when parents rushed their children away from him with nasty glares - or how his eyes would go blank when a women came on to strong. Stiles was an observer and knew he could be overbearing but there was something about Derek that made it so he couldn’t stay away.

Derek never knew how to answer stiles when he tried to make small talk. His tongue got tied standing so close to stiles in a small area; where all he could smell was ink,snow,home,lighting cinnamon, mate that made his chest hurt. Derek fleas from their conversations before he could embarrass himself by saying something like “hey, I’m a werewolf and I’m pretty sure you’re my mate do you want to get married”

This comes to head when there is an attack on the library, some dumbass tried to get to the magical section and summons a demon (this is beacon hills what did you think would happen). Derek is badly injured after saving Stiles and some of the kids there. Stiles manages to exorcise the demon despite being in shock that his coworker derek hale is Derek Hale, with a capital W. So Stiles, being Stiles decides to big him back to his apartment and heal him with his spark.

(Fuck yeah, getting to the good stuff). Derek wakes up the next morning, just wrapped in Stiles scent, warm and the most well rested he’s been since he was 16. Derek hears stiles in the kitchen and is prepared for judgement, disgust, fear and the worst reaction. Cue his surprise when stiles brings him a tray stacked full of food with a worried look on his face. His wolf goes insane at the sight of his mate courting him and Derek breaks.

Stiles was beside himself when Derek wasn’t waking up. He wasn’t sure how long it takes and werewolf, Alpha werewolf??? To heal from injuries given by a demon. So he made pancakes, everyone loves pancakes right?? He also made hash browns, bacon, eggs and waffles but that wasn’t important. He stacked the tray with as much food as he could carry and hoped Derek would wake up soon. So sue him if he was a little shocked to see Derek, sitting up (Awake) looking at him like Stiles was the greatest thing to happen to the earth since Star Wars.

The two of them end up talking (over each other in the beginning, but a+ for that communication)

“I’m a werewolf / spark”

“WHAT”

Once they both calm down they actually manage to have a conversation and Derek confesses that he was too scent drunk on stiles to have a conversation and stay in control. This makes stiles blush bright red and Derek is obsessed. He really wants to know how far down the blush goes. And it that moment, Derek just upfront asks to court stiles.

Stiles is an absolute gay mess right about now. He tries to tell Derek that he shouldn’t feel obligated to “reward” him after Stiles saved his life. Completely missing the point. Derek sees how insecure Stiles is in this moment and lays everything out on the table.

“No stiles, you’re my mate”

“Oh, Oh”

“Yeah, so please let me court you, let me take care of you.”

Stiles of course says yes!! They court for a week and a half before stiles breaks and demands that Derek has his wicked way with him. So Derek does.

Repeatedly.

The next morning they are officially a couple. Beatrice is so proud. She goes around beacon hills telling everyone that she single handedly got them together. She also goes around telling everyone that she is super excited to be a grandmother.

The sheriff is not amused.

Stiles and Derek get married three years later. Beatrice walks Derek down the aisle. She also tells an embarrassing story of the time when Derek got jealous over a child who declared that they would steal Stiles away from him and stiles would marry them instead. She cries over “her children” getting married and reminds them she wants grandchild before she to old to play with them. She spends half the evening snipping back and forth with the sheriff.

When Beatrice retires, stiles and Derek become known as the heart sickening couple who runs the library.

Thanks for the ask!! This was super fun to right!

[hedwig221b]

Not the same anon but your fav jealous and possessive Derek fics? I’m talking toxic possessive, Stiles always in sight and scented and being touched cuz Derek just CANNOT STOP 💞💞💞😌👆🏼🙂‍↕️

Hi, hello, here you go 🔥💖 (p.s. we need more obsessed borderline toxic Derek pleek)

As it Should Be by KuroKitty (HaleYes)

Stiles comes home from his 18th birthday party at the bowling alley to find a surprise waiting for him in his room.

Or, the one where Derek has no chill.

Assume I'm just An Asshole by mannersmakethmine

the pack always finding Stiles and Derek in coupley situations and assuming they're fake dating because there's a new threat in town, and Stiles and Derek because the shits that they are just go along with it.

Deflowered by astrugglingstoic

In which there is a prince, a knight, sequential sword fights, and an anecdote about pressed flower petals.

Feral Formalities by Aleandri

"There was silence as no one seemed to breath at the table. Derek had just gifted Stiles, an unmated Omega, with food. Right in front of another Alpha. Who he was on a date with. To discuss being heat partners…." In which, Stiles presents as Omega, and everyone wants a piece of the alpha-baby-making ass!

five times derek is protective of stiles and one time it's the other way around

Yeah, okay, so maybe Derek was a tad too protective of Stiles. So what? Sue him for worrying about his best friend, whom he totally does not have a raging crush on.

Okay, so maybe he does.

Shut up.

Hung The Moon by BurnItAllClean (nrnyx)

Slowly Stiles got control of himself again. His heart calmed. His breathing evened out. The anger was gone. In its place, a bone-deep weariness settled. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t survive this.

Might be a Predator by churkey

Derek's mom once told him they were predators. It never occurred to him to ask, 'If werewolves are predators, what do we hunt?'.

Oblivious Misadventures, and Other Such Tales by Little Spoon (JaydenNara)

Going to college was exciting and new, a chance for new friends and a fresh start, and the best part was, there was a supernatural fraternity on campus, meaning Scott finally had the freedom to be himself.

Then he met the resident human who came with a stalker alpha. What was the point of a supernatural fraternity if he still had to pretend to be human. And seriously, did Stiles ever fall asleep somewhere normal?

of gods & monsters by Dexterous_Sinistrous

“I’m not the best at conversation. I’ve been told I have no finesse for it.”

Stiles took a step closer to Derek, pushing the billowing silk out of the way. “And what would you say if you looked at me now?”

Derek looked up, startled for a moment when he realized he was now looking at Stiles’ unveiled face. He was silent for a beat, taking in Stiles’ features for the first time, convinced he would never see such beauty unveiled for him alone.

Oh my (let me look at those eyes) by Gorgeousgreymatter

A few months ago, he might’ve been able to solve this with some force—a little man-handling, a snarl, a glimpse of teeth. But he looks at Stiles’s broken face, knows he’s seen too much horror and blood and evil, the whole Big Bad Wolf routine is just going to fall flat. Because Derek looks at Stiles and he doesn’t carry himself like a teenager anymore. He carries himself like a soldier.

The Alpha and his Spark by sandyde03

Stiles is pregnant. Derek is perpetually horny and possessive. Stiles is confused. Not by Derek sexing him up. He loves that. It’s the fact that ever since he started to show that he was with pup everyone has been avoiding his eyes.

The Boy Is Mine, You Bonkers! by frownypup

It turns out that the words ‘a painfully smart and brave unclaimed human who is stupidly unutilized in Beacon Hill’s pack’ became the hottest gossip in werewolf underground. Yes, what the hell. Stiles’ existence has changed from a plankton to a rising sun.

Derek Hale has something he needs to say about it.

Three Little Words by Chloepioneer

“Oh god,” he whines, slapping a hand over his mouth to quell the vomit that boils the back of his throat. “Derek, is that the mailman?”

or Derek has a bad habit of killing people that take an interest in Stiles. Stiles might like it a little bit.

won't you torture someone else's sleep by redeyedwrath

I love you, Derek thinks, but he doesn’t say it, just watches Stiles throw his head back in laughter that isn’t for him and never will be. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Maybe if he thinks it hard enough, Stiles will hear him.

you are an obsession (i am your possession) by EvanesDust

Once Derek catches that tantalizing scent, he can’t stay away. Stiles. Derek’s completely enthralled by him. Obsessed. But all he can do is stand in the shadows, watching and waiting. Until he can make Stiles his, that is. And when that happens, Derek will never let him go.

Pack nights are not for getting laid by igotdamn

Stiles goes out clubbing, Derek doesn't like that very much.

Obsession by Rae666

Derek gets hit by a witch's curse and is confined to his loft as his uncle searches for a cure and Isaac stands guard. But as the curse grows worse and Derek's obsession with a certain pale skinned person becomes increasingly intense, how long can the team keep Derek and Stiles apart, especially when Stiles decides to take matters into his own hands?

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse

[ultram0th]

I am fond of you Derek turning into a more muscular and/or hairy guy if that's the kind of request you were looking for? Love your stuff though regardless it's hot and well done.

It all began the morning after Derek had assumed his new Alpha title. Stiles had slept over, cuddling up next to his boyfriend when he'd jolted up awake as soon as his hands had brushed up against something unfamiliar.

"What...?" he trailed off, his eyes wide at his boyfriend's chest that he usually used as a pillow.

"Hm?" Derek sleepily yawned, wondering what his smaller boyfriend was panicking about.

"Der," Stiles mused, "your chest. It's... really hairy."

The werewolf cocked his eyebrow up at his boyfriend, running a hand over his pecs. Sure enough, the werewolf's previously smooth chest was now covered with black hairs. They spread out over his pecs, running down across his stomach before connecting to his bush. The hairs curled and looked thick enough to where one might've guessed that Derek had always been rather hirsute. His pert nipples poked through the dusting of hairs, looking hard. Plus, Stiles hadn't noticed it initially, but Derek's square jaw was also covered by a thick beard that looked like it'd take weeks for a guy to grow... not just a few hours.

Derek's eyebrows knitted together as he ran his hands over his hairy chest, his heart starting to race. However, just as soon as the worry began to trickle in, it disappeared.

His face smoothed out and he yawned loudly, gently placing a hand on Stiles's head to pat it back down to his now hairy chest.

Stiles wanted to argue, confused over both his boyfriend's sudden change and different attitude. He knew that Derek should've been freaking out and wondering what was happening to him, but instead his boyfriend acted like everything was normal.

He tried to ignore it, but as Stiles rested his head back down onto Derek's chest, something about the way he had to crane his neck alerted the human to something else.

"Derek!" he gasped loudly, sitting back up and tearing the covers away from his boyfriend. "You're... bigger!"

His boyfriend had always had a pretty toned physique, but now it looked as if Derek's chiseled pecs were now significantly larger and much more plump than they should've been. Without the covers over him, Stiles could also see that it wasn't just Derek's chest that had grown larger. His boyfriend's arms seemed to have doubled in size, looking thick and powerful as he lied on the bed. Even his legs were larger, his quads pressing tightly together and shoving his bulge (which seemed to stretch out his underwear more than usual) out in front.

And of course, every single larger muscle was covered in dark, manly hair.

"Stiles," Derek groaned, going so far as to roll his eyes, "everything is fine. I feel fine, there's nothing to worry about--"

He was interrupted when his phone alarm beeped, letting him know that he had to get out of bed, making him frown.

With a groan, Derek rolled his hairy bulk out of bed, the frame squeaking much more than it usually did as he moved. His heavy footsteps thudded over towards the dresser. As he walked, Derek noted how odd it felt to have his thighs rolling over one another, and how awkward it was to have his muscular arms resting at a ninety degree angle atop his flaring lats.

Stiles watched in disbelief as Derek nonchalantly attempted to get dressed in his normal clothes.

"Damn," Derek growled as he examined himself in the mirror. With his new bulk, none of his clothes fit him anymore. He couldn't get any of his jeans up past his massive quads, having to throw on a large pair of sweats that used to be baggy on him. Now, the material was skintight, showing off his meaty glutes and enormous package in front. The t-shirt he'd grabbed barely wrapped around his torso, ending above his navel. It had torn significantly across his large muscletits, showing off the hairy cleavage that he now possessed. There were two large bumps on the front from where his larger, nubby nipples poked against the thin cotton.

Stiles watched as Derek paled in the mirror, his beard-framed mouth opening like he was about to voice his concerns, but again, Derek seemed to instantly relax. He shrugged his broadened shoulders.

"I think my clothes shrunk in the wash," he chuckled, gesturing down at his hairy muscles.

"Derek!" Stiles cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "It's not the wash, it's you! You've turned into a hairy bodybuilder!" As crazy (or crazier) as it seemed, Stiles could've sworn that he'd watched Derek's hairy pecs balloon out a few more inches in those few seconds.

Derek took one last look at himself in the mirror, seeing how large and imposing he looked with his incredibly large, round muscles and the thick, masculine hair that coated them. He couldn't help but smirk back at his shocked boyfriend, flexing a large, hairy bicep. As his massive muscle bulged to the size of a bowling ball, the tight sleeves of the t-shirt burst apart.

"I'm not a bodybuilder," Derek smiled at his boyfriend, giving him a playful wink. "I'm the Alpha."