#witch!stiles

[dropofbittersea]

Louisiana swamp witch AU!

A year ago Stiles and Scott were attacked in a parking lot by deranged alpha wolf, Peter Hale, turning Scott and hospitalizing Stiles with extensive wounds. Stiles now works in his grandmother's oddities shop selling trinkets to tourists. A rogue wolf strays into town and Peter commands all wolves living in the territory to hunt it down under the dubious auspice of bringing it to justice for attacking one of his betas. Among those enlisted to hunt it down is Peter's nephew.

Stiles discovers that Peter, the rogue wolf nor Derek Hale are what they seem.

Stay is an romantic epic centered around the healing of past trauma and unlikely attraction set against a magical backdrop of Louisiana's Low Country.

[christinesficrecs]

Would you be able to put your finger on this fic? "stiles has magic and he made a deal with a powerful witch to protect beacon hills, but it supposedly took away his love for derek in the process (or maybe Derek made the deal), except that he's growing a garden to break the spell" My google-fu is failing me. I know I've read it before, but going through my history is a month-long endeavor! I think Derek is a deputy and he keeps running into Stiles and it's not clear what has happened between them at first. I think Stiles is referred to as a hedge witch at some point?

savileho found this one. Thank you!!

que tu m’aimais encore by magneticwave | 19.9K

Wolves mate for life, don’t they?

[outtoshatter]

No one tagged me this time, I just wanted to share some more to motivate myself xD

Here's another snip from my @sterekcollabang fic, The Devil in the Next Room:

A sweet scented chill rolled over them. Derek whirled. The demi-demon stepped out of the fog wearing a temple officer’s body like she had forgotten how to be solid a long time ago. Newly possessed. She cocked her head. She looked human, aside from how she moved, and, of course, the shadow. It rippled and seethed behind her, a thing attached to her back that looked like a shadow but refused to behave like one. Derek faced her, pulling his shoulders back. “Temple wolf,” she said in a high, lilting voice. “I taste it on you. Won’t you come home?” He bared his fangs. “My home is with Zala. Not where you dwell.” She laughed; the sound of it was smoky, like the fog itself was mocking him. The witch surged to his feet. Derek lunged to catch him, but he stood steadily. His hand slid up his torn sleeve, and the other lifted. A faint rattle shivered through the air. Orange light engulfed the demi-demon like a pillar of flame. She shrieked, clawing at her arms. The light blazed brighter, and she flew off her feet. She landed with an enormous splash in the sea.

woo, let's go for playing or for looking: @raisesomehale @2dents @cephalog0d @dear-massacre @satashiiwrites

@kikiroo @tkwritesdumbassassins @missanniewhimsy @elisela @whimsicalmeerkat

@wolfspurr @rosieposiepuddingnpie :D

[hedwig221b]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Tags: Werewolves are known, Miscommunication, Alpha mate!Stiles, University!AU, Witch!Stiles

Summary: See, the nature was a nasty thing. Yes, Derek despised him, hated him, may be wished him dead sometimes, but he couldn’t fight the instincts. Sometimes it was hard for Stiles to remember that none of that was done out of Derek’s free will. His glares and frowns and his silence always put Stiles in his rightful place, though. He was a mistake and a joke. It hurt, very much so, because, even though Derek didn’t want anything to do with Stiles, he wanted everything with Derek.

[northernbluetongue]

🐺🐺🐺

STEREK WEEK 2018! Day 5: Witch Hunt

During 1692 a promise was made, one side screamed at the top of his lungs as the fire consumed him, he shall return, he will rise again and find the one who was torn from his side, his magic will keep their bond alive and no matter how many centuries it may take, the bond will be renewed and the lovers will find each other again.

[z0mbie2b0y]

Sterek, but it's witch Stiles and familiar Derek. Stiles, who almost lost Derek and couldn't bear the thought of it so he bonded them by soul, which in turn made Derek his familiar... now they are bonded by the soul that if one dies, the other dies, if one is driven mad so is the other so that even if they are in the haze of madness the other isn't far behind.

[illiterateaffairs]

breaking point | stiles x reader

masterlist

pairing: stiles stilinski x f!reader (best friend/witch)

word count: 2,589

warnings: brief mention of having a period but one sentence! cursing, angst, kissing (oh my!)

summary: set at the end of 3b. you pride yourself on being the strong one in the pack so your friends don't have to be. but after recent events - watching stiles get possessed, losing allison and aiden - you can't push your feelings away any longer. thankfully, there's a sweet boy outside your window ready to be there for you this time.

author's note: i have so much i can say about the world in which this story lives but don't want to drone on and on...so another note at the end and more to come. hope you enjoy! <3 (and for anyone following me for jamie tartt x reader content...do not give up on me yet!)

You couldn’t remember the last time you cried. 

You think it had to have been when you were a kid. Maybe a scraped knee. Maybe after you had rewatched Bambi for the thousandth time.

What you do remember is the core reason you stopped letting yourself cry. 

Seeing Scott after his parents divorced taught you there were worse things in life than cuts and scrapes. You’ll never forget the look on his face the day his dad moved out. You and Stiles tried every trick in the book to make him smile but it took days for you to see his crooked grin again. 

Though, that was nothing compared to when Stiles lost his mom.

You had never experienced grief like that, that wasn’t a cartoon animal in a movie. It was anyone’s guess why your families let Scott and you attend the funeral, but the three of you were already codependent by eight years old. You were overwhelmed by the sight of seeing your silly, sweet best friend cry so hard, and it was harder to watch his dad fight through his own tears. Even Scott got choked up. But not you. 

Of course, you were just as devastated. Claudia was like a mother to you. But observing the equally upset people trying to comfort young Stiles made you want to be the one person in the room who could just be there for him and let him mourn. Even as a little girl, you had the selfless instinct to put your feelings aside and prioritize your friend’s.

You stay strong so they don’t have to; that became your mantra, even subconsciously. 

No matter what shit you were going through, you swallowed your own fears, pain, and anger so you could be there for whoever needed you. And that decision soon became a part of your programming. Even if no one was around, you never let yourself break, no matter the situation. 

You stopped crying during movies, no matter how depressing. 

The first time you experienced period cramps so bad you had to stay home from school, you just bit your tongue and didn’t shed a tear. 

As you transitioned to middle school school, and into high school, and your feelings for Stiles went from innocent crush to more, you pushed any heartbreak down when he looked right past you at Lydia Martin. 

Admittedly things have gotten harder the last year. Being there when Scott was bitten by a werewolf was startling but you swallowed your fear for him and focused on his well-being. You even held it together when you started learning of your own supernatural abilities and family secrets that changed everything you thought you knew about yourself. In moments of danger and near-death, you focused on making sure Stiles was okay. Making sure Allison was okay. Lydia, Derek, Isaac, even Jackson at times. You were physically incapable of taking a minute to assess how you felt about things, your mind just redirecting to concern for your friends and loved ones. 

There were some close calls. Mainly when it came to Stiles.

The night he played his first lacrosse game with you cheering in the stands ended with Gerard kidnapping and scarring him. The second you saw his face afterwards, you nearly let the damn break. 

It was no surprise that the last few months were particularly challenging. You could hardly stomach watching Stiles, Scott, and Allison nearly sacrifice themselves to save their parents, your hands plunging Stiles into the ice cold water. It was nearly impossible to watch him become the shell of who he was in the weeks following until he wasn’t himself altogether. 

And then Allison…

You felt the loss of Erica and Boyd heavily but you knew Isaac and Derek were taking it harder, so you were there for them. However with Allison…she was one of your best friends and that made it infinitely more difficult to bear. But she was Lydia’s best friend. Scott’s first love. They needed you more than you needed to cope on your own. 

And then, tonight. Just as you finally put an end to the horror that was the Nogitsune, your pack was hit with another loss: Aiden. Lydia’s relationship with him was complicated, but that didn’t make her any less devastated as she ran out of the school and took in the scene. Holding your friend while she sobbed over the death of two of the most important people in her life is traumatizing, but reaffirming nonetheless; you had no right to cry when someone else was going through worse. 

It was an unhealthy and ridiculous thought, but it was what your brain had been conditioned. 

So here you were, slowly entering your room at an ungodly hour after making sure Lydia would be okay on her own. If it were up to you, you would have stayed with her, but she remained firm that she needed to be alone. And you trusted she meant that. You drop down onto the edge of your bed, heavily, the weight of the last few days - weeks, months, year - making you collapse. Normally, you could push any swirling thoughts away and mindlessly get ready for bed, but as you struggle to pull off your boots, your mind is racing. Scenes of Allison dying, Lydia’s scream, Scott’s face, Stiles collapsing, play in your head. Your lip is quivering. Your hands shake as you drag the shoe’s zipper down your leg. And then suddenly, the unfamiliar feeling of a hot tear streams down your face. You wipe at them hastily, trying to snap yourself out of it but they keep coming. 

You’re on the verge of hyperventilating when you sense someone outside your bedroom window, hearing something bump against it a second later. Without another thought, you’re up and pulling the curtain open, your hand nearly raised to cast one hell of a spell on whoever could be lurking outside at this time after the night you experienced. But your stomach drops when you see Stiles perched on the other side of the glass. Even quicker now, you pull open the window and yank him inside anxiously. 

“Woah, you’re quick. I didn’t even get a chance to knock,” Stiles mutters softly.

“Stiles!” you gasp out as quietly as I can, “What the hell are you doing? You should be in your home, asleep, resting, safe! And you’re risking your life for the second time tonight climbing up here!”

As you scold him, your hands grip onto his flannel, searching him up and down for any sign of distress. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Stiles whispers, his hands reaching out to gently rub your shoulders, “I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not,” you shake your head, “You should be home. You should be with your dad, the last few weeks have been killing him.”

“I texted him,” Stiles bypasses quicker than he should, “I just wanted to see you.”

You look up at him for the first time since he’s been in the room, your eyebrows pinching, “You what?”

“Yeah, I…” Stiles pauses as he observes your face. He gently lifts his right hand to cup your face gently, his thumb wiping a tear, “You’re crying.”

Shit. You’d forgotten about that. 

You swallow thickly, making half a move to pull away from him, but he’s instinctive and doesn’t let you get far. You start shaking your head, averting your gaze again and aggressively wiping at your own face in another attempt to hide. 

“No, I’m okay. I’m fine.” you insist.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Stiles argues. 

“No it's not,” you shake your head more, “God you shouldn’t be comforting me, you almost died tonight.” 

“But you’re allowed to be upset. A lot has been happening.” 

“But Lydia and Scott…”

“No, Allison was your friend, too. It's been a rough few days...”

“No, Stiles, stop, it's not that!” your voice cracks as you quietly exclaim, looking at him firmly now, “The last few days have been…awful. I am so sad about Aiden, and I am devastated about Allison, but I can’t stop thinking about how Scott and Lydia must feel.”

Stiles sighs, “You cared about them too.”

“I know that, but Lydia lost her boyfriend and her best friend within days. Scott lost, like, the love of his life. And that’s what makes my stomach hurt. My mind keeps going to how much it must be hurting them, and I can’t even comprehend it- I can’t even go there because it seems excruciating. And then I feel guilty for even thinking about that, when that’s not what happened to me. They lost their person, and you’re still…” 

Your voice trails off when you realize the implication of what you’re saying.

He’s your person and he’s still here. 

You feel your eyes widen as you process what you just admitted to your best friend. You take in his own surprised expression as he realizes it, too. His hands are still on either side of your face as you look down and sputter, trying to form another coherent sentence. 

“I just meant…so many bad things have happened the last few days, but the one thing I can't stop thinking about is how I almost lost you tonight…” you whisper. You force yourself to look at him again and his lips part, still in a state of…shock? Awe? 

When he doesn’t say anything after a few seconds, you hurry to fill the silence. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be saying or thinking any of this.”

You make another attempt to pull away from him, but he pulls you closer. 

“No, no,” he whispers.

“You don’t have to say anything to make me feel better, in fact that’s the last thing you should be doing,” you continue rambling.

“Hey, stop it. You don’t ever have to apologize, especially not to me. Just because someone may have gone through worse, doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to react or mourn or feel. You’re always so strong for us but it's okay not to be sometimes. And…” Stiles takes a deep breath, “You’re not the only one thinking about what-ifs tonight.” 

You look at him curiously as he continues. 

“What if I had been stronger? None of this would have happened - that thing couldn’t possess me. What if I had been smarter and figured out how to stop the Nogitsune sooner? What if I had really hurt you when he was in control? What if he targeted you the other night or tonight? What if we lost you instead. Despite everything that happened with everyone there, I can't stop thinking about you, you, you. What if I had lost you?” 

You feel your eyes beginning to well up again, at your body’s mercy with no way of stopping it. You could hardly process Stiles' words, in disbelief of the weight they carried. 

“Stiles…” you whisper, but are unable to complete the thought. 

“That’s why I’m here. I couldn’t stomach being away from you right now.” Stiles pauses, before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I'm sorry for not saying it sooner, and sorry for every second you have spent thinking I don’t feel the way you do. You are the most important person in my life, and all I care about half the time. I am…crazy about you. Maybe that’s a poor word choice after my mental state the last few weeks, but it’s true. And if I’ve learned anything from all of this, it's that life's too short. And I don’t want to spend another moment of my life not being with you.”

You stare at Stiles, forced to blink away stray tears. Your heart is racing and you’re still unable to form words, with a million different thoughts swirling in your head.

Not encouraged by your silence, Stiles starts to grow anxious, slowly stepping back and removing his hands from your face as he speaks again, “Was that…way too much, way too fast?…I can go.”

You hardly let him move an inch before you’re stepping back into his space and holding his arms firmly in place. 

“You mean it?” You ask emotionally, “It’s not just the near death experience talking? You really mean it?”

Stiles nods excessively leaning closer, “Every word. You’re my person, too.”

Your lips twist, as if trying to smile but your emotions are all over the place and it just leads to you choking out a sob. In seconds, Stiles' hands move from your face to wrap tightly around your waist as you sink into his embrace.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t wake up tonight.” You cry into his shoulder as he rocks you back and forth. 

“I’m here. I’m okay,” Stiles whispers soothingly, “Mostly because of you.” 

You try to steady your breath as you reply, “Scott and Kira did most of the work.”

Stiles rubs your back, “Not just the ritual tonight. The thought of getting back to you is what held together the last pieces of sanity I had left.” 

You slowly pull back so you can look up at him again, “Really?”

Stiles nods, reaching up to gently wipe your face, “Yeah…I don’t think I could have survived any of it without of you.”

You take a deep breath, briefly thinking about how much torture the last few weeks have been for him, but push the thoughts away when it becomes too much to stomach. You tenderly place your hands on his face. “I’m sorry we couldn't bring you back sooner.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t think about that. I’m here now, yeah?”

You nod, your eyes flicking around his face, taking in every detail you can see in your dimly lit room. “Yeah…”

Stiles gently brushes a piece of your hair back, whispering, “Right where I want to be.” 

As if by a gravitational pull, your face inches closer to him, your noses brushing first, before your lips finally meet in a soft, timid kiss. Your first real kiss. It only takes seconds for the two of you to become more comfortable, any trepidations fading away as you practically melt into each other. You sigh as his hands move down the curves of your body, your own hands gripping his hair. You would have never, ever pulled away if you didn’t need to breathe. Stupid lungs. 

You stay in contact, pressing your foreheads together. 

Breathing heavily, Stiles asks, “Can I…stay here tonight?”

You nearly laugh, “If you even had half a thought that I was going to let you leave after this, you’re out of your mind.” Not even a second goes by before you realize what you had said, your eyes going wide but then you see half an amused smile on his lips.

Stiles shakes his head, shushing you as he pulls you back in for another kiss. 

After a few more moments of kissing, and after you finally change and curl up in bed with him, your thoughts turn back to the recent events and you find yourself crying again. But unapologetically, comforted by Stiles' embrace and the fact that he was feeling the same things as you. And that it was okay to feel them. You both mourn Allison and all the friends you've lost. And eventually, you fall asleep in each other’s arms. The last few weeks had fully broken you. But it was okay, because you had someone to help pick up your pieces whenever you needed. And you’d be there to do the same for him. 

---

author's note: lmao i never know how to end things. but there it is! my first stiles fic in years. some may have read some of my old work from a years ago, but writing for stiles was my one of my first forays into fanfic over a decade ago. i always fall back on my stiles hyperfixation and with the return of fall, its back in full force.

i envision this work as part of the oc/reader character i've developed (mostly in my head) over the years, where she grew up as stiles and scott's best friend, pining over stiles and eventually finds out she is a witch. however, i never fully committed to a teen wolf rewrite, so i've written a few tidbits a while ago. i have an overall narrative i think she follows, but i also love the idea of playing with different ways stiles and the reader can get together, and this was the idea i've had most recently thinking about season 3b. i imagine the reader had already admitted to her feelings, but the timing wasn't right so she's finally giving into them and stiles finally reveals he reciprocates them. i could go on and on about the details for this "world" and the many alternate routes it can take.

let me know if anyone has any interest is seeing more of witch/bestie!reader x stiles in all of its shapes and forms, and feel free to inbox me any questions/thoughts/anything. also let me know what you thought of this! it finally got me writing again after a year, so i'm a little rusty, but eager to get back into it again <333

and again, i haven't forgotten my jamie series...i am trying to get over a hump of writers block for the next chapter but after that i'm locking in. :)

[princesssmars]

practical magick

a stiles stilinski x witch!reader

plot : just when stiles thought he had gotten used to the dramatics of the supernatual, he happens across you performing magic in the forest. when you fail to wipe his memory, his thursday afternoon gets a whole lot weirder.

wc : 4.678

contains : sfw. kissing at the end. the picture for look inspo is fair-skinned but the reader's skin color is not described! reader has hair! google translated latin sorry 😞i like my men loserish and obsessed sorry.

a/n : yasss a little halloween special. rewatching teen wolf for the third time bc idfk. is it obvious i love witch!reader's yet.

for the first time in over a decade, stiles stilinksi was bored out of his mind.

he had previously thought that given his adhd gave him a deep desire to be doing literally anything all the time that the word bored wouldn't enter his daily vocabulary until he died.

yet here he is, kicking his feet at the dead leaves on the ground as he searched for any hidden traces of wolfsbane. the only reasons this had even happened was because he had opened his big mouth too many times and was sent on a busy quest by deaton, to "make sure the surrounding areas were safe for werewolves."

just reminding himself of what led him here was enough to tick him off again. it wasn't like the past two years have been easy, being under the constant threat of werewolves, werewolf hunters, kanimas, etcetera etcetera. it was enough to stress out the most stable of adults, and stiles was the direct opposite of that, so of course he got nervous and started talking over people and pissing them off.

"stupid wolfsbane, stupid werewolves," he mumbles, kicking at more of the dead brown leaves on the forest floor, tearing a line of the familiar purple plant up from the ground and stuffing it into the brown sack in his other hand. once he was done it was likely it would either be tucked in jars in deaton's stash or burned. he wouldn't mind seeing the latter.

its another twenty moments of grumbling and scavenging before a sound in the distance stops him in his tracks. he stands still, making sure that he barely breathes before he relaxes, figuring his anger and memories are making him paranoid of the woods.

a minute later he wishes his mind was playing tricks on him, because he nears the noise again, but this this its louder.

"its closer," he thinks.

he barely even registers when his legs start running. he may have a bag full of wolfsbane, but there was no guarantee the threat was something the plant could harm. and he didn't feel like tempting fate today.

at this point he's slightly lost his direction, but when he passes the stunted redwood stump he and scott carved their names into during the fifth grade he starts to understand where he is, and as his heart beats in his hears he knows if he turns right here he'll come up onto the old willow tree-

in the span of ten seconds he smacks head on into a hard object, falling on his ass and gasping as the air is knocked from his lungs. he blinks quickly to try to rid of the black spots in his vision, and before he can comprehend it he's making eye contact with you.

he's slightly embarrassed that the first thought that races across his mind is how pretty you are. he knows he should be wary of you, but he can't help it. your hair is a rich (h/c), seeming to almost shine despite the sun being blocked by clouds. your skin is smooth and your eyes are gorgeous and big and still staring straight at him.

you both rush to stand up. he holds his hands out in a way that you would calm a wild animal, hoping it doesn't piss you off.

you continue to stare at him. which isn't helping calm down his racing pulse.

"uh, alright. look, i'm not gonna hurt you, alright? i'm just...looking for something..."

before he can finish his sentence, you raise your hands to cup the sides of his face. his words die in his mouth and he feels his cheeks warm up to the point he's surprised they haven't burned your palms. you look determined, and for a second he feels like he's gone to heaven

"convertere et perge quid agas. oblivisceris quid hic vidisti."

turn around and continue what you're doing. you will forget what you saw here.

his mouth opens and his brows scrunch in shock. he never thought those latin lessons he took online and with lydia would pay off, but he's really glad he did them now.

he considers doing what you said, just turning around and forgetting all about this encounter. but unfortunately his curiosity is getting the better of him, and if his suspicions are correct he needs to know more about you.

"i'm gonna guess you just tried to put a spell on me, right?"

your eyes widen so largely he's afraid they're going to pop out of your skull.

"i..i don't understand, that should have worked. are you a warlock? druid?"

"no, no. i'm just stiles." he tells. his guess that you were something supernatural is partially confirmed, since you know about druids and the whole tried to put a spell on him thing.

"well, stiles, unless you tell me why my spell didn't work on you i'm most likely going to have to kill you." you deadpan.

he thinks you're kidding so he eta out a strained laugh. you don't even twitch.

he wracks his brain for a good enough excuse that will save his life before his arm moves without command and thrusts the bag in your direction.

"well, i have a uh, a bag full of wolfsbane, if that matters at all. pretty sure it does since…yeah…wolfsbane”

yours eyes dart from him to the bag, most likely not trusting that their isn’t some insta-death powder that will pop out as soon as you open it, so he looses his thumbs grip and steps closer so you can see the purple herbs inside.

“hate to admit it but you’re right,” you sigh, pushing back some hair from your face. his eyes follow the movement before darting back to yours.“ that much wolfsbane would make most supernatural or magical doings wonky.”

"yes, yes! exactly. that makes sense. im sorry about that-"

"why would you even have that much wolfsbane anyway? are you a hunter?"

"what? no, no! im not, i swear to you im not a hunter. i can explain this, really i can." he nearly chokes on his words at the speed he speaks.

you stare at him for a few seconds more before crossing your arms over your chest, hopefully about to let him explain why he has a bag filled to the brim with a dangerous plant on a random afternoon.

when you start to walk directly past him into the forest he doesn’t think he’s ever been more confused.

"fine. you can explain it on the way back.”

he’s as still as a statue as he process your words. you just accused him of being a hunter and now you want him to follow you to whatever mysterious place your going? even for him this is weird, and he’s ten seconds from refusing-

“hurry up.”

he rushes to catch up behind you.

after around twenty minutes of stiles repeatedly asking where you were going followed by silence on your end, you finally reach a clearing in the woods filled by a large victorian-era house, fully black with large looming windows lit up by warm golden lighting coming from inside. there's a nearly fully glass sunroom/greenhouse on the right side, and he can see from here the varying flowers and plants that fill the room. he wants to ask how a house like this could be kept under wraps from the rest of the town, but then he remembers.

magic, duh.

you lead him through the threshold of the home and down a hallway until you arrive in what must be your living room, not giving him a chance to admire the room before you're pushing on his shoulders so he sits in a loveseat, taking your own seat across from him. your legs spread and you rest your elbows on your knees as you glare at him, causing him to shift in his seat.

"why are you carrying a bag full of wolfsbane?"

"my friend's boss, deaton. he asked me to pick up any wolfsbane in the woods to make it safer for them when they do the whole wolfing out thing."

"deaton's working with werewolves again? does he have a death wish?" your brow raises in confusion, he notes how the fingers on your right-hand scratch at the skin on your right.

"i'll be honest, you're kind of creeping me out."

"thank you. why is he doing it?"

"my friend, scott. he's a werewolf. and so are our friends erica and boyd. and derek and his weird uncle peter-"

"the fucking hale's are back? are you kidding?" a scoff leaves you and you get up out of your chair, starting to pace back and forth in front of his chair.

"yeah, it was this whole thing with peter being evil and killing his niece, and he turned scott but scott thought it was derek who turned him. it was a whole thing. not to mention how peter came back from the dead-"

you continue to walk around the room while occasionally pausing to pay attention as the boy details the events that have happened in the past year. despite you being a stranger it felt oddly cathartic to vent about everything that had happened to him. admitting to the countless times he felt scared out of his mind but had to stay strong lest his enemies take advantage of it.

"that's a lot for a normal human to go through in just a year with no prior knowledge of the supernatural. i'm surprised your brain didn't implode from the stress."

he blinks. "thanks. i guess."

"you're welcome. i'm going to make some tea. stay here," you say, moving from standing across from him to heading to a room near the side of the room, able to faintly see some dark counters and pots and herbs hanging from the ceiling, "not like you'd be able to leave anyway."

that's reassuring, stiles thinks to himself, bouncing his leg up and down where he sits. after a minute he figures you won’t kill him horrendously if hes looks around a bit, so he gets up and starts observing the countless pictures on the walls. some are old, like the people in them are wearing outfits from a few hundred years ago, while some are colored and recent. in most of the recent ones, you’re with three older women who look just as dark but ethereal as you do.

he continues looking at some pictures and hung-up trinkets when you come back into the room with two cups of tea, handing one with a smile to the wary boy with a halfhearted promise that it’s “totally not poisoned.”

“can i ask you a question?” he asks, sipping at his tea after he discovers it’s not poisoned and actually really good. he was never really fond of tea, always preferring coffee or energy drinks when he was in a low-energy period. he remembers his mom liked chamomile tea.

“you just did. but go ahead.”

“why would you let me in here? you could have just questioned me at the willow tree, you didn’t have to let me into your house. not that i don’t like your house. i like the whole victorian gothic vibe.”

you don’t answer for a solid minute, slowly drinking from your cup as you stare into the lite fireplace.

“witches pride ourselves on our knowledge. to be aware of our abilities and surroundings at all times to best stimulate our growth. and as much as i’d like to be this powerhouse who could take down any threat, i know i’m not. if you actually were powerful and i tried to take you on myself? who knows what would happen.”

“and i’m guessing that magical barrier around the house would protect you in case i really did try anything?” he gently asks, not wanting to talk too loudly to distract you from opening up to him.

“exactly. plus if you tried anything my aunts probably would have put a curse on you and your loved ones. something not too flashy to attract attention, but enough to cause great suffering.” he notices your soft sigh when you stop talking, almost like you’re disappointed you won’t get to see this suffering play out.

“plus it’s better to know where your talents excel,” you continue, setting your cup down on a skull patterned coaster on the coffee table in front of you. “i’ve always been better at using my magic to investigate my surroundings. helps to find materials or signs of psychos roaming around.”

something you two have in common. it makes his mouth quirk up.

“so, the werewolves and all the other things being back in town, that’s a problem for you and your aunts, right?”

“yup. if it was just werewolves it’d be normal for beacon hills, but kanimas and a whole pack of alphas? who knows how much that can disrupt the natural balance and what more they’ll bring.”

he thinks over his next words carefully. scott would likely be upset at first at him for trusting you, but he was also the nicest person stiles had ever met. if you could help them then it was worth the risk.

“then how about a trade. you help us with this alpha problem, and you get the experience you need to become a great and all powerful witch. pretty soon you'll be riding your broom to your heart's content."

you can’t help but scoff a laugh as you think it over. he starts to think you’re about to reject the offer as you stare him down before you get up and offer him a hand.

“you’ve got a deal.”

after shaking on it, you send the boy back with his bag of wolfsbane and a few more helpful weeds from your greenhouse, giving him a note to give to deaton so he won’t ask too many questions.

when he returns to the vets office he dumps the materials on the operating table, ignoring isaacs joke about how if he took any longer they’d all be alpha chow by now. he can tell deaton is concerned about where he got the vials of strange red and yellow herbs, but when he reads the note his eyes widen and he lets out a mix between a laugh and a sigh. scott asked insistently what was on the note but his boss refused to tell him what it said.

before he left to drive home, deaton pulled stiles to a corner and told him that he had been in close contact with one of your aunts before something happened a few years after the hale fire that caused them to go into hiding and cut contact with all supernaturals they had previously been helping, including him as the emissary of the hale family.

as he lay in bed that night staring up at his ceiling, all he could think about was you. you were a welcome distraction from the chaos of his current life, a pretty distraction at that. if not a bit scary. which he didn't mind all that much.

the both of you spent more time together in the following weeks. at first, it was just simple conversations by the willow tree talking about the werewolf situations and checking what materials deaton needed from your family. as time went on his curiosity got the best of him and he started to ask you more questions about your life.

"so hit me if this is stupid but did you have any family in salem? or can you like make a potion ina cauldron to see if I did because I could use that as massive bargaining power in fights with issac-ow! why'd you hit me?"

"you said i could."

"yeah but not so hard. jeez, ever thought of quitting this witch thing and trying boxing."

"never thought of it. maybe i should start now. with your face."

"really funny."

(your threats kind of reminded him of derek, but had less of an 'i'm about to rip your throat out and eat your esophagus vibe.' slightly.)

but as time went on it got deeper. as he told him more about himself you started to do the same, once even apologizing for "giving off psycho killer bitch vibes" and chalking it up to being so isolated from people for most of your life. he told you he didn't mind the vibes, assuring you he liked it maybe a little too excitedly.

he could really feel the shift when one day he came up to the willow tree and he saw you, standing with a frame photo in your hands and nearly on the brink of tears. he was so shocked at seeing you show such intense emotion he wasn't watching where he was going and stepped on a branch, alarming you as your head whipped to him like a deer in headlights.

"i...im sorry. i can leave if you want."

"no no, it's," you shook your head, looking down at the photo once again. "it's fine. it doesn't matter."

"well if it's enough to make you cry id say its world ending-"

"could you just shut up? for once in your life?"

it's quiet for a minute, the only sound in the air being the gentle breeze. even thought the comment stings stiles knows all too well you're just lashing out in anger and hurt.

"im sorry."

"don't apologize. i get it, i do." he moves closer until he's standing beside you, walking slowly so he doesn't make you lash out again.

he looks down at the photo and he gets it. its you, about six or seven with a bright smile on your face and standing with two people he can tell are your parents. he can see the resemblance. you have one of their smiles and hair color, the other's nose, and by their clothes, the same dark style.

"its been over ten years. since i lost them," you whisper, your voice sounding more weak than he's ever heard it. "itd be nice if I was staying with my aunts for some sabrina the teenage witch reason but no. i don't have a choice."

he gently puts a hand on your shoulder. "i get it, i do. i lost my mom. every day i remember things about her in things i do. it hurts but its better than forgetting."

you sniff and hes about to back up when you put your hand over his on your shoulder, gripping it tightly. it hurts a bit. he doesn't really care.

"its not fair."

"its not."

"...thank you."

"don't mention it."

you give him with the materials and he's about to leave when you stop him, your hand grasping his wrist. he wants to ask whats wrong but he stops. you're staring right at him, into his soul he thinks, and all he wants is to hold you and tell you any pain he's suffered the past few years is worth it because it led him to you, that even if you asked him to sacrifice himself on an alter for a spell that would make you happy for a minute he would do it-

"this bracelet. i want you to wear it and don't take it off no matter what, all right?"

hey, that works for him.

as soon as the bracelet was clasped around his wrist he felt different. like his nerves were tingling and his brain was warm. he felt like he was going to get the most powerful migraine in existence and reached to take it off when you took his hand again.

"please. just give it a minute."

and so he did.

only thirty seconds of dull pain later and he felt normal, if not better. like when you're a kid and have the best day of your life and return home to a good meal. a nice bath, and a great night's rest. he feels almost powerful.

"hey what is this thing? did you just give me powers? is this gonna make me your servant or something?"

"bye stiles."

he gives deaton the materials after telling scott where he was ignoring the weird look on his face before the boy goes back to examining an adorable beagle on the operating table.

deaton takes the bag and bottles with an appreciative smile, his eyebrows scrunching up when he notices the jewelry on stiles wrist.

"where'd you get that bracelet?"

"uhh, i found it. at a thrift shop. thought it looked cool. why?"

deaton clearly doesn't believe him but decides to entertain stiles anyway. "the band is a normal bracelet but the charms are what makes it special. they're pagan."

"could you explain them to me? just because you know."

the vet just shakes his head and laughs before pointing to each one.

"this one, the witchs knot. standard symbol for warding off evil. its mostly used as a protection charm."

stiles admires the charm, the metal silver with the symbol burned into it. it looks like a circle with a line roped in and out of four points of it.

"this, hecates wheel. a goddess of magic, as you probably already know. symbolizes the power of knowledge and life."

this charm is a bit heavier, the stone looking weathered with a scratched labyrinth engraved on it, a distinct 'x' in the middle of it.

"and this one is..." deaton starts before his words trail off. stiles looks at it. it looks like four combined circles, each with symbols inside them. the two across from each other on the side looking like two crescent moons, the one on the top holding a basic pentagram. but he doesn't recognize the one on the bottom-two perpendicular lines forming an 'x' with little swirly lines coming from the middle on the top and bottom.

"what? what does it mean? is it bad?"

"no, it's not bad at all, stiles. the crescents and pentagram are used in another basic protection spell. more protection for the user."

"and the one on the bottom?"

"well, i don't honestly know what it is. its most likely a personal sigil made by the person who made it. but by my guess, based on others I've seen before, it might mean whoever made it has a deep love and affection for whoever they gifted the bracelet to."

stiles thought he was keeping his cool, but scott made extra sure to remind him the following days and the dumbass look on his face when deaton explained the symbol to him.

he didnt know what to do. this had to mean you felt the same way he did about you, right? why else would you gift him a love sigil on a bracelet you insisted he wear? for a second he considered it was a love spell you tried to put on him, but he was feeling iffy about that. mostly about how he wouldn't care that much.

(he apparently admitted that in a sleepy haze when he was sleeping over at scotts, and he's never wanted to die more than when he woke up and realized issac of all people heard him.)

the next time he saw you he tried as hard as he could to act casual. you asked him about ten times if he was okay, and he eventually came up with a good enough 'just a slight stomach bug' lie and regretted it immensely when you invited him back to your house, telling him you'd been practicing making simple health remedies and you had the perfect thing to fix him.

the whole walk to your house he was on edge, his palms feeling sweaty for the first time in his life as he repeatedly wiped them off on his pants. just like the first meeting, you tell him to wait on the couch and he lets out a shaky breath when you leave into the kitchen.

what does he do? does he confess? does he need to? he was so scared that he was being too obvious and maybe that's why you put the sigil on the bracelet, to let him know you returned his affections. but what is he wasn't obvious? and he was basically telling you he only liked you because you liked him? what if-

"stop staring into space and drink this tea, dummy."

he laughs awkwardly and takes the ornate cup from your hand, sniffing the tea before he drinks it. it's sweet but savory, smelling like nutmeg and milk. he can see little flakes and leaves floating on the top. he takes a sip and hums at the taste.

"screw boxing, you should be a professional chef. i'm gonna need you to give me this recipe."

"yeah right. a witch never reveals her secrets." you scoff before sitting down next to him on the couch. you put your arm up on the back and rest your head on your wrist as you cross your legs, your foot brushing against his leg. he nearly spills the tea over his lap.

he can't help but admire you. he had given you a few magazines he'd gotten from stores and stuff to better show you how people were dressing these days, and while you'd hated most of it you took to some trends, wearing a pair of black ripped skinny jeans and a pair of combat boots. he tried to focus on the rips in your jeans as to not let his eyes wander up, where you were wearing a leather halter camisole with nothing underneath. he can't help but laugh in his head when he thinks of the word camisole. maybe he was spending too much time around lydia.

"stiles? seriously are you possessed or something? normally you'd be talking my ear off trying to guess exactly what ingredients i used for the tea."

he sets the cup down after taking another long sip and turns his body to you, your eyebrows raising in what he can tell is amusement. most people could easily get annoyed by his theatrics, but after your near trauma bonding at the willow tree, you had always made sure to welcome them with a smile.

"look, i have something to say. which you probably already know, but i need to say it to you anyway to make sure you really know, y'know?"

you blink. "go ahead."

he breathes in and out a few times, his previous confidence suddenly disappearing.

"let me guess, you saw the sigil and now you're going to confess your love to me?"

he goes into a near coughing fit.

"how, well thanks because now i dont have to actually say it, but if you had given me a minute-"

before he knows it you're scooting closer, your faces just a few inches apart. you're staring at him with that same look you had when you gave him the bracelet. his breath is picking up and he bites his bottom lip, your eyes darting to the motion.

"can i kiss you?"

"yes, god yes-"

your hand grips his chin and brings his lips to yours, the intensity and plushness of it nearly driving him insane. he doesn't really know what to do with his hands, settling to just keep them on his lap before your other hand brings them to your waist and squeezes them in place. at this point you're nearly on his lap and that combined with the kiss and the fact he swears he just felt your tongue poke his lip is going to be the death of him.

he pulls away from the kiss and kneads his hands on your hips, able to feel the softness of your skin on the places where the camisole lifts up.

"wow. i mean just...arent you a recluse? where'd you learn to kiss like that? have you like, conjured up clones to practice with or something."

"stiles?"

"yeah?"

"shut up and kiss me again."

"whatever you say, babe."

for the first time in his life, stiles stilinksi thinks everything is gonna work out.

ty for reading! had to tell myself to get up off my ass and write at 3am and wrote about half of this so sorry for any dialogue inconsistencies. love you bye bye.

[jade-bright]

Witchy Stiles or just Spark Stiles that grew up with some witch traditions and practices.

When he starts dating Derek and they're sitting or laying together, Stiles will just trace love and protection sigils/runes into Derek's thighs, arms, chest, back and just anywhere he can get his hands on.

Sometimes when Derek shows up through Stiles window unannounced or catches him wandering about the preserve, he's talking to his deities about Derek and asking them to protect him and keep him safe.

After asking for his permission, Stiles blesses Derek's tattoo because he loves him and believes he deserves nice things, and when he tells Derek this, he just gives Stiles a small smile and tells him that he's the only nice thing he wants.

[1-800-local-slut]

Teen Witch

This is just angst; you and Stiles break up lol. Look I know it's kinktober but I needed a break from writing porn, but we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programing tomorrow!

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Your new carpet, ruined. How was it ruined? Your boyfriend's best friend was currently bleeding out on it, and you were very very upset with him. You'd told him so many times if he needed your help, that he needed to call first. Not break into your fucking house and make so much noise that you had to thank your lucky stars that your parents weren't home- yet.

Back to Scott, he was currently seizing on your carpet and that was a problem. In addition to the blood, he was now vomiting. A lot. They owed you two hundred dollars like right now. You grumbled, as you attempted to stabilize the seizing teenager, and Alison was holding Scott's hand while Isaac attempted to hold the new alpha in place.

It was no easy feat, he was foaming at the mouth, eyes crazed and glowing while he swung through the air almost scratching one of your eyes out. You yelped as you got down onto your knees to try and help as much as you could. What was wrong with him in the first place?

You barked out the question as you pulled out a box from under your bed. It was sealed, a sigil you had drawn with your own blood and ashes from your most recent spell after a breach through your bedroom's defenses against Ms. Blake. Opening the box, you pulled out a healing potion that you created just a few days ago when your dearest friend Lydia Martin had jumped out of her sleep muttering about 'wells' and 'ice cubes'. Now, you were no banshee but that couldn't have been a good sign from her.

"Hold his head so I can pour this into his mouth." You ordered Stiles, who was standing there a bit worthlessly at the moment. Dropping to his knees besides you, his hand brushed up against your thighs, which was a startling reminder that this happened in the middle of the night because you liked white men.

You were woken up out of your sleep in the middle of the night by Stiles standing over your bed, with that gorgeous nervous smile. It would be cute if Stiles had a key to your house or your window didn't have a steel bat holding your window open for Isaac to shove the seizing Scott through it while Allison barricaded your bedroom door.

As you poured the clear liquid down Scott's throat, and while Stiles held his snarling face in his hands, Scott really was a bit too strong for his britches. And naturally that was a problem for you. You just repaired your bedroom, which doubled as your sanctuary. Where your spell books, plants, herbs, collections, crystals, ashes, everything, were held. Where a witch rests her head at night is incredibly important.

After you had a rather rough squabble with Jennifer Blake, you had some serious repairs to make and not even a day later, Stiles was pushing someone into your bedroom window.

You couldn't have Scott destroy everything you literally just rebuilt. After all your parents were mad enough when you had to go out and pick out all of the herbs from your mothers garden.

With a small syringe, you gently turned his head over to the side and lined up with his shaking form. He was trembling and eyes were glazing over, blue liquid (?) leaking out of his mouth. You would've left him this way if not for the tremors getting more intense. What looked like rabies was not clearing up with the help of your potion. In fact, it just helped his physical ailments, but did not do much for his mental state. Without throwing up and growling he'd certainly be able to focus enough to take out one of your eyes like he almost did when they got his head down flat on a pillow.

"What is that?" Allison asked as you sunk the needle slowly into his neck and focused.

"Concentrated mountain ash." Like a vaccine almost. It was just enough to slow him down but not kill him. Maybe a little bit more for the brand-new true Alpha. Stiles winced beside you, preparing for the uproar of disapproval from Allison and Isaac. You were a bit new to town, so they weren't really used to you yet.

In the sense of, you and your family were the first witches to come to Beacon Hills in six hundred years. They were all so used to the gentle and kind nature of their emissary the lovely Alan Deaton. You were not gentle. You were a witch, loyal to yourself. And that meant drugging one of your friends to keep him from hurting you and possibly destroying your house.

Nice and gentle druids, healers who would never harm others intentionally. Kind and wise, who dedicated themselves to being helpful and supportive guides to the supernatural community around them.

Not witches. Wicked witches who cursed and hexed. Wicked witches who had the power to heal and destroy. To give and take. Wicked witches who weren't interested in getting clawed apart to save some people who think you're nothing short of evil.

So, when you came to town and were the shining star of Beacon Hills after just a few weeks they knew something was up.

Stiles, ever attracted to women who could kill him with a hard glare, fell for you faster than you could telepathically throw someone across the room.

So now, four months later, Allison was gaping at you in disbelief for poisoning her situ-relation-boyfriend-ex, whatever was going on, you didn't really care to know. Whenever Stiles tried explaining it to you, you just told him you didn't really care and went back to making out with him. And why would Stiles be mad about that?

Scott stopped struggling, the mixture of plants slowed his heart rate enough to fall into a fit full sleep. Now, the issue was your carpet turning a really nasty and wet shade of purple. Literally filled with the mixture from Scott's body. Just disgusting.

"Get this mess off of my floor, and someone is running me two hundred dollars for my carpet."

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"Okay. So, he got super rabies. And you brought him to my house?" Scott was now resting in your tub, wearing only his boxers as you had a big t-shirt he could fit into but nothing else, after you had hosed him down in your shower.

He was sweating profusely, and he muttered something about 'falling down' it was odd. You scratched your head, your bonnet sliding down your forehead. It was 1:52 in the morning.

Literally awful. Your bathroom floors were cold, it was cold in general, and they were just in your house. Allison had a slightly cold look in her eyes. The Argent girl no doubt heard about your kind. Heard about your family. And while you two had communicated before, there was no doubt she was seeing where the rumors came from now.

If Wicked Witch had a defined photo, it would be your ancestors. Your great grandma, your grandma, your aunts and cousins, your mother, and now you. You wouldn't call it wicked. More so, ambition that other creatures think to be a hindrance.

If you were so wicked, you would've tossed them all out of your house the moment you saw Stiles grinning over you. But you loved Stiles, so you could stop being devious for long enough to lend a hand. This was a bit much to ask of you though.

Lately, you and Stiles were going through something of a rough patch. You only saw each other during what seemed like moments of high stress. When you were helping Deaton, creating some sort of spell or object for the pack, or saving a life. Or running for yours.

That obviously didn't help a relationship, which often resulted in you two screaming at each other on the car ride home. And the makeup sex was starting to no longer be worth losing your energy. Was it great? Yes, but you'd like to have sex with your boyfriend without having to scream at him. Like that embarrassing spat last week where you yelled 'I hate you don't talk to me' in front of everyone and then stole his car keys forcing him to walk all the way to your house in order to get home.

The sex that night? Magical. He really gave his all into apologizing to you.

This was another fight. Because when Stiles didn't consider you, it hurt. There were boundaries- you had boundaries- and none of them seemed to understand that. Why would you want to be woken up like this? Perhaps you'd be less cross if he had stuck to his promise of making more time for you and being a bit more considerate of you having to clean up his messes. Considering he made the promise last night, you truly hoped this time it would last longer. Perhaps this just was not for you.

Pinching the bridge of your nose and taking a deep breath, you shook your head. Isaac and Allison stood in your bedroom, whispering amongst themselves, while Scott laid unconscious in the tub. Steadying yourself, you looked at Stiles who was sitting with his head down on the edge of the tub.

"Do I look like a vet?"

"...Well considering recent events-" The words died on his lips, when he saw you tearfully looking at him. Why were you crying? Because you just noticed the crack in your floor from when Scott jumped awake while you were transporting him to the tub. And once again, you realized you'd have to clean that up. Oh, also you noticed Stiles grabbing his keys in his jacket pocket. Was he about to run off and leave Scott with you here? Where was he even about to go?

Here you were, with your AP Bio test first thing tomorrow morning and your boyfriend pushed you across the line once more. How many more emergencies would fall on you? It wasn't his fault. He joined a pack. But there was a certain point that things reached.

"...This isn't working Stiles." Allison and Isaac stopped the whispering, at your low voice. Both of them turned their head to look into your bathroom where you had your arms wrapped around your stomach and had fat tears rolling down your face.

Stiles gaped in disbelief and shook his head slightly before he swallowed thickly. Glancing behind you he got up and shook out his shoulders before he closed the door to the bathroom. This was one conversation he couldn't have any one witness. And Scott was knocked out in the tub, so he hardly counted.

"There's a line Stiles. And you guys crossed it again and again. You promised me last night that you would try setting harder boundaries. You just broke into my room and my new carpet is ruined. You couldn't call? You know anytime of night you call; I answer, you text I respond. I was fine doing all of this when it felt like we were together. When we did things together. Stiles, when was the last time you took me out to dinner, when's the last time we went out on a date, when's the last time I've seen you without everyone attached to you?

You aren't even my boyfriend anymore, you're some guy who I see sometimes when he needs help. Like I'm some sort of booty call except we haven't been having any good sex either because I haven't seen you. And when we do see each other, we just fight. Or have really angry sex that I don't even enjoy anymore." It came out a soft whisper, eyes watering and lip quivering. Staring down at the floor you couldn't even look at him. You couldn't do it.

This was for the two of you. You weren't happy. Nothing he did could make up for it after tonight. You can't push that on him, that's just cruel. He swallowed thickly and you heard his voice breaking. Was he crying? Oh no. Please do not cry.

"I feel like you're only seeing my friends as a hindrance. They're your friends too you know. And it's not fair that you can refer to them that way when all they've done is try to be nice to you. We have people we have to help, and I know things are hard right now, but you know I care about you. It's just right now we're both in some difficult situations."

"That is not the issue. I do love our friends, I do. Their great. But why are you all in my house right now. When I have told you so many times not to do this. First it was a little pop in from time to time. Then it was staying over really late. You said the exact same thing to me last night when our one movie night was crashed. Now it's this. I don't think it's your fault. I think you shouldn't be with me right now Stiles. I don't know if you don't have the time, don't want to make the time or can't make the time, I don't know. But I don't want to keep waiting for you to figure it out."

Stepping away from his outstretched arm when he wanted to pull you closer. Flinching he withdrew his hand when he saw you put your hand up to stop him.

"There are boundaries. I have boundaries-

"And I pushed them again." He finished, the sentence you'd been repeatedly screaming at him over and over again since the issues between you two arose.

Then it was over. The first conversation you two had in over a month that didn't end in screaming, tears, fighting, the both of you insisting you'd never let the other go, and instead of you two having a normal talk it was you two breaking up.

And your rug was still ruined.

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[bubbly-parker]

Isaac Request

Requested? Yes

Isaac Lahey x witch afab Reader

I didn't know if you wanted pure fluff of smut too so this is pure fluff I think I will add a second Chapter with smut, tonight or tomorrow. If anyone has any ideas what to add please drop them in my inbox <3333

Prompts:

4. "I'm staying. Stop fighting me.”

9. "let me take care of you

The reader thinks Isaac doesn't like her, but he's just awful at showing his feelings.

Since the reader doesn't have healing abilities like the rest of them Isaac never wants them to come with them because it stresses him out too much, he feels the need to protect her and he can’t fight and keep an eye on her at the same time

The reader thinks Isaac sees her as a burden but he is in loooooooove

Challenge: take a shot everytime i wrote Isaac.

Spoiler:

“Don't even start again. Just let me help without complaining for once.”

A small “why” was all you could muster in return, too tired to start a whole argument. “What do you mean, why? To make sure you're fine, obviously."

“In case you haven't noticed, but it's always me looking after you.”

You woke up on your living room couch, halfway slumped over the side, with a pounding head and blurry vision. You couldn't remember getting home; all you remembered was a pretty bad fight.

I should have just stayed out of there.

But of course, you could never stay out of other people's business. No one in Beacon Hill could. Supernatural was drawn to supernatural.

When you changed schools, you didn't expect your parents to drop you off, and ending up immediately running into a WHOLE PACK of werewolves. You kept your head down and walked right past them as if they didn't exist.

You are a witch, so you smell like an average human to them, but they can’t fool you being born a witch. Your third eye has always been open, and they can’t hide their true forms from you.

One day during lunch, you overheard some of their troubles—of course, you weren't eavesdropping...

you'd never..

From what you gathered, they needed a rare plant that happened to grow in your witch mother’s garden.

You've only been here for a few weeks but befriended Allison and Lydia quickly, so you understood the pack was keeping the town safe and are no danger, of course, they didn't know that you had already seen through them, but you felt the need to help them regardless.

You heard them talking about meeting up after school, so you dropped a tracking stone in Lydia's bag during class when she wasn't looking so you could find her later. In hindsight, you should have maybe just approached them instead of using Lydia to stalk them, but you aren't exactly the most extroverted, so they would have to deal, you thought.

Later that day, you went home and plucked the flower from your mom’s garden while she was still out. Back in your room, you placed the second tracking stone on your map, and it moved exactly to where Lydia was at that moment.

Back then, on that day, you should have learned to mind your business, but whatever

You got out of your car in the middle of the woods, a map and a mason jar with your flower in your hand, looking for Lydia when you heard screaming.

A fight was happening in the middle of the woods, and you ran right into it.

“The fuck are you doing here?” You turned around to see a rather angry Isaac right behind you, unsure whether he had turned since you pretty much always saw through their facade. You could feel the anger rolling off of him. Taking a step back as he took on forward, you pushed your hand out, shoving the jar under his nose while avoiding his eyes. You said nothing.

Isaac accused you of spying on them and trying to sabotage them, but thankfully Stiles stumbled towards you guys, perplexed by your appearance but thankful either way he took the flower and did god knows what with it.

Ever since that you involuntary became a part of the pack. You told them how you knew from the first time you set foot in the school, but Isaac didn't trust you and kept his distance. Now, a year later, close to graduation, you still end up coming to the rescue every single time together with Stiles. You're keeping the boat from sinking, really.

And that's why you found yourself in your current position. You came to the rescue again. Some sicko alpha was rampaging through the woods, and while you were laying a trail of mountain ash, he attacked you from behind, scratching open your side and throwing you through the night sky, lovely.

You didn't register any pain at first, but now that you're coming to be, your entire side is burning, and your head is pounding even stronger.

You don't know who got you home, but you could hear water running in your guest bath down the hall, so with a shaky breath, you pushed yourself up to make your way over to the bathroom, but your vision got blurry, and you had to lean on the armrest.

“What are you doing? Sit back down.” Isaac came rushing towards you and helped you sit back down. You didn't know who to expect, but it wasn't Isaac.

Over the last year, Isaac had warmed up to you a little—not that you could tell, but that's what the others kept saying.

To you, Isaac still seemed closed off, but you wrote it off as it being his personality.

He didn't want you to come today. He protested profusely at lunch, saying that there was nothing you could help with anyway and that you were just putting yourself in danger. You knew that you probably should have sat this one out, but Stiles was feeling under the weather, and you didn't like that Isaac made you feel like a child.”

“I can take care of myself. I'm not a child,” you told Isaac, who acted like you would just be a burden. You feared he might have been right.

Now that he was in your home, treating you like a child again made you angry. One day, he was nice to you—distant but still somewhat nice—giving you class notes when you were sick even though you were sure he never took notes. He shrugged it off like it was no big deal, and then he acted like a first-class jerk again.

To be real, his cold-shoulder, mysterious attitude had you crushing a little at first, but when you realized that he only cold-shouldered you and Stiles, it just felt like he was excluding you.

While you could be more of a help to your friends if you would be focusing on spell crafting like your mom instead of potion making, it comes in handy in times like this where your healing salves would aid your healing process, not having the natural advanced healing of a werewolf.

You take a staggered breath in, grind your teeth together, and got moving.

“You’re shitting me right now; you shouldn't move in this condition.”

Ignoring Isaac, you moved towards your hallway, one hand on the wall stabilizing you.

“I mean it, Isaac, just leave. I brought this onto myself anyway."

But instead of Isaac leaving, you could hear him move towards you.

You went to turn around. “ Wh-

Before you could even start, Isaac picked you up.

Paralyzed from the shock of what was happening, you just gasped up at Isaac like a fish as he carried you to your bedroom. He placed you down on your bed, and without looking at you, he immediately turned away. Your eyes followed his figure as he moved towards the other side of your room, where you kept your potion cabinet.

“Which one is that healing stuff you gave Allison last time?” You just looked at Isaac, not quite understanding why he was still here.

“the purple container that says Clinique” (reduce, reuse, recycle old containers)

Isaac moved back over to the bed. You sat up and took the salve from him.

You waited for him to leave so you could lift your shirt and apply the salve but Isaac sat down next to you.

“I'll help you." Isaac moved closer and tried to lift the side of your shirt, but you flinched back—wrong idea. A stabbing pain ran up your side and temporarily made your vision go black.

One part of your brain enjoyed the idea of taking your whole shirt off in front of Isaac—maybe that small part that still had a crush on him—but the other side didn't even want to slightly lift it.

“I can do it, Isaac; seriously, I'm not getting naked in front of you,” you glared at Isaac the best you could. "You don't need to be here.”

In reality, you didn't look mean at all, the pain too clear in your expression, and your wound far too concerning in Isaac's eyes. “You’re not getting naked; I just need to rub this on, and in case you haven't noticed, you're not even wearing your own shirt, so I won't see anything I haven’t already.”

You looked down at your own body and noticed he's right; the shirt you left the house in is long gone; instead, your blood is soaking into the shirt Isaac wore earlier under his jacket.

While you were distracted, Isaac quickly applied the slave to one hand and went under your shirt. As he went to apply it, you still tried to wriggle out of his hold; you don't know why you did it. You could tell that Isaac, for whatever reason, just wanted to help you.

Nice Isaac was complicated. It made the irrational side of your brain fuzzy, and maybe one small butterfly woke up in your stomach. "I'm staying. Stop fighting me and let me help you, goddamit.”

Isaac’s grip tightened around your waist. You couldn't go anywhere. As he rubbed the salve around your wound, he decided not to lift your shirt and just moved his hand under it.

You titled your head to look at Isaac; his eyes moved from your middle to your face. “Is this okay?” he asked while looking into your eyes.

You nodded your head, not sure what to say. This side of Isaac was weird; technically, you should be happy. This caring side is what you dreamed about months ago when you started crushing on the mysterious wolf, but he made it so incredibly hard on you by always treating you like a little kid.

When Isaac was done, he got up off the bed, washed his hands, and put the salve back where it belonged.

You dropped back on your bed, facing the ceiling, energy fading. You couldn't even move up the bed, legs still dangling off.

Isaac came back to your side and kneeled. He started taking your boots off; you felt too exhausted to even lift your feet to help him.

You groaned, thinking about how Isaac would use this against you for all eternity to prove that you are nothing but a danger to yourself.

“Don't even start again. Just let me help without complaining for once.”

Okay, that wasn't what you expected.

A small “why” was all you could muster in return, too tired to start a whole argument.

“What do you mean, why? To make sure you're fine, obviously."

You didn't really understand what Isaac was on about.

“In case you haven't noticed, but it's always me looking after you.”

You tried to make sense of his words when a conversation you had with Lydia came back to mind; you brushed it off, but Lydia had said something about Isaac always being way too close to you, not in a literal way, but if you were walking in a group, he was next to you walking on the side next to the road, and if you split up in groups, Isaac was always with you, and now today.

wait

“How did you find me? You were supposed to be at the other end of the woods?” You asked Isaac, who gave no reply. He was supposed to be with Allison as backup and setting up traps.

Isaac had put your shoes next to your wardrobe and came back to the side of your bed to help you move fully onto the bed.

“Isaac?”

“I was going to go in position once you were inside the Mountain Ash Circle... But then he came out of nowhere. I was too focused on you to notice him. I'm sorry.” Now you knew Isaac wasn't a man of many words, but you realized that Lydia might have been a little right; Isaac was always watching you.

A blush crept up on your cheeks, but you couldn't quite believe the conclusion you were drawing here.

“Oh,”

Isaac looked down at you lying on your back. "I’m bad at this talking thing, okay?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact now.

“it’s okay” You patted the space beside you on the bed and signaled Isaac to sit or lay down. You realized it must have been pretty late, or early? You looked at your alarm clock 2:43 am; well, not too bad.

You felt the bed dip beside you as Isaac laid down on his side next to you, somehow facing you but still avoiding looking at you, fascinating.

“Thank you, Isaac." Your eyes met, and the usually confident Isaac suddenly looked everything but that.

He brushed a strand of hair out of your face with his hand. “Just let me take care of you from now on, okay?” he asked.

Okay, more than one butterfly woke up again. You nodded your head and tried to scoot closer to Isaac; instead, he wrapped his arms around you and did the work for you by pulling you in. “Will you stay?” you said as Isaac moved to sit up. “Of course, but you should change your shirt; it’s bloody.”

“You mean I should change youuur shirt?” you purred. You smiled at Isaac and pointed to your chair, where your PJs were lying. He reached over and gave you your shirt.

“Can you help me get this off?” You sat up; your side was healing. You could feel the wound closing up faster than humanly possible, but it still ached.

Isaac helped you lift your arms as little as possible as he lifted your shirt above your head.

Shivers ran down your spine, but you didn't feel uncomfortable. He helped you put your clean shirt back on and moved you to lie down with him, setting the blanket over you two.

You laid together in silence, your back pressed to Isaac’s chest; you could feel his breath on top of your head; you should sleep, but your emotions were running wild, and you didn't want this moment, these feelings, to end.

As if he could read your thoughts, Isaac said, “I’ll still be here in the morning. You can sleep.”

He kissed the top of your head, and you drifted off to sleep. Today's events were a little too much.

[christinesficrecs]

Hey I was wondering what is your favorite trope for sterek fics and can you any recommend fics with that trope

Magic!stiles is everything. ❤️ Here are some of my favorites.

Beltane by DevilDoll | 8.2K | Explicit

"Watching Stiles heal someone has always been a little uncomfortable for Derek, like he's seeing something intimate and private that shouldn't have an audience. That's nothing compared to how it feels." This is an AU in which Stiles has magical healing powers.

Better Fortunes by SmallBirds | 39.6K

When a group of sinister men attempt to kidnap Stiles Stilinski from the Brooklyn apartment he shares with his stepsister, Lydia, Stiles is forced to activate a spell that translocates him to where he'll be safest. Derek Hale isn't sure what to do about the soaking wet young man he finds wandering down a Beacon County roadside during the middle of a thunderstorm, but he feels compelled to help him. There's something about Stiles that Derek finds fascinating, and before long the two become embroiled in each other's lives. Despite the threat to his life and the sudden upheaval of everything he's ever known, Stiles is having a hard time feeling too upset about that.

A Letter From Mom by StilesIsMySpiritAnimal 32.9K | Explicit

After waking up at the age of 11 without any memories of his past Stiles spends eight years with his father in the tiny town of Shelter Cove, California. After his father's death he receives a notice from a storage facility in some town called Beacon Hills. Stiles is confused and thinks the manager made a mistake until he finds a letter that should have been for his 18th birthday that his dad never gave him. It's from his mother, who he has no memory of. Weirdly enough, her letter mentions Beacon Hills and some woman named Talia, who he's supposed to trust. Confused and angry at his father, Stiles sets out for Beacon Hills anxious and determined to find out what his dad had been hiding from him all these years.

The Walls Are Breathing In by secondstar | 41.8K | Explicit

Nothing could go wrong. It was just supposed to be a safe trip to the Nemeton. But this is Beacon Hills and things are rarely that simple. Welcome to the life of Stiles Stilinski.

Or, that time that Stiles accidentally became a sorcerer against his will.

Safe Place to Land by Green | 19.2K

The Hales have been tracking a group of hunters who've targeted small packs with the help of a magic user. When they finally attack the hunter compound, they aren't expecting to find Stiles, a Spark who's practically a slave, and his young werewolf son. Derek isn't expecting the Spark to be his mate, either.

Where The Inevitable Isn't by Survivah | 41.2K | Mature

Stiles has a magical thingamajig that's supposed to get him out of danger. Trouble is, it took him really, really far out of danger. Like, to the point where he isn't in the same universe anymore.

Red Witch by rootbeer | 34.2K

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.

Soulseeker by alisvolatpropiis | 9.7K | Explicit

Sighing, Stiles reaches for Derek’s big hands, cradled in his broad lap, his skin lighting up even more at Derek's touch. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, preparing himself to look for Derek’s soulmate. Whoever you are, he thinks, you better be worth him.

The Adventures of Ranger Rookie and Deputy Dork by shipNslash | 12.3K

When the Sheriff tells Stiles that he's getting a partner, he's not exactly thrilled. How is he supposed to keep his magic a secret with some rookie stuck in his cruiser all day?

When Derek's mother decides to move the pack back to Beacon Hills, he looks forward to joining the local police force. Less so to hiding his werewolf-iness from some poor, unsuspecting partner.

Derek is assigned to be Stiles' new partner at the Sheriff's Department. One is a mage and the other is a werewolf. Neither knows what the other can do. What could possibly go wrong?

Stand Fast in Your Enchantments by DevilDoll, Rahciach | 76.9K | Explicit

"Stiles knew damn well what a pissed-off wolf sounded like, and every hair on the back of his neck was telling him that somewhere in this room was a very pissed-off werewolf."

An AU in which Derek is feral, Stiles is magical, and they eat a lot of fast food.

You Only Live Once...or Twice by WonderWolf | 32.9K | Explicit

“Anything,” Derek’s eyes are determined, boring into Stiles’.

Stiles huffs a laugh, “Careful there, big guy. Don’t want to be promising anything to every necromancer you meet. Some might ask for your soul or someth—”

“I’ll give you my soul to bring her back,” Derek says, his voice steady and strong with resolve, “if that’s what you want.”

Stiles’ mouth gapes open for a moment before his brain kicks into gear and he stutters out, “N-no, I don’t ask for that. I only ask for money.”

There's Monsters at Home by calrissian18 | 83.6K | Explicit

“How did you get past the wards?” Derek had put them up, with Peter’s grudging assistance, after the Alpha pack had made themselves at home a few times too many.

The guy pulled a face. “You mean the wards a five-year-old girl with the mental ability of a goldfish could deconstruct?” He blinked wide eyes at Derek. “Gee, I don’t know. It’s bound to go down as one of life’s great mysteries.”

Derek despised him.

They’re all together ooky, the Hale family… (Snap, Snap) by DropsOfAddiction | 12.4K | Explicit

Derek realises that he’s probably squashing Stiles a little bit, right at the same moment that Stiles apparently realises that he’s still holding onto Derek’s face.

They both definitely acknowledge Derek’s nakedness at the same exact time, judging by the alarmed look on Stiles’ face.

“So, you have no clothes on,” Stiles removes his hands and holds them above his head in surrender, cheeks a muddy red.

“In my defence, I was covered in fur less than two minutes ago,” Derek rolls his eyes and he pushes himself up and off him, hands covering his junk for Stiles’ sake.

“You’re still kind of furry now…” Stiles sits up, blinking rapidly, clearly just as weirded out as Derek. “Oh my god, pretend I didn’t say that. I’m not looking or anything.”

Derek smirks, because that… that was a lie and he cocks an eyebrow at him.

And We'll Be Complicated by ingberry | 18.5K | Explicit

Stiles already had his hands full with the case he was working on for the enigmatic Mrs. B. He really didn't need this too, but there was no changing the fact that he no longer remembered Derek Hale or anything connected to him. And no one could figure out why.

Someone Else's Dream by theroguesgambit | 36.6K

Post-3B. Derek has gone missing, and Stiles' dreams might be the only way to save him.

[outtoshatter]

Fractured Starlight, featuring THIS absolutely drop-dead gorgeous art from @seanchaidh7, is now completely posted, start to finish, thanks in large part to @missanniewhimsy for giving me a little push to just post the last few chapters today!!! :D

[hedwig221b]

your fangs against my skin (the sound of your bones)

sterek | E | 21k | ao3

Tags: Historical, Bone Witch!Stiles, Alpha Derek, Full Shift Werewolves, Possessive Behavior, Jealous Stiles, Lydia & Stiles are besties, Oblivious Stiles, Protective Derek, Animal Death, but nothing graphic, Mutual Pining, Courting Rituals

Summary:

This was it, then, huh? It was that easy for Derek to invite someone to his den. Someone other than Stiles.

He healed the wolf. Stiles killed his tormentor, mended his blood and bones, and let him sleep beside him. But none of it was enough.

He wasn’t a spark, after all, but a witch — evil and alone, locked up in his tower.

Witches didn’t get happy endings.

for @casually-eat-my-soul & @sugarplumprincess2003

[silentmacabre]

and I see red

red

red

[stilinskiinez]