cammithings1

[cammithings1]

Teen wolf fan fic

CHAPTER 1

Y'all, this is the first time I've ever posted my writing, soooooo. Let me just tell you I SUCK at descriptions, but just to give you the jest of it. This is a Stiles x OC, and I'm not too sure how accurate it is to the show because I couldn’t find the original script. Anyway this is chapter 1, I hope you guys enjoy.

Everything started to change on my sixteenth birthday. It wasn’t anything big—just a small party with my family, friends and cake. At the time, I had no idea how much that day would mark the beginning of something different between us all.

I was adopted by the Mitchells—Dominic and Alice. To me, they’re simply Mom and Dad. My dad is a doctor, and my mom is a lawyer. But more than their jobs, they are the kindest people I know. From the moment they brought me into their lives, they made sure I knew I was loved. See, Alice couldn’t have children, and though I know that must have been hard for her, it never changed the love between her and Dominic. He always told her it didn’t matter, that she was enough, but still, they both wanted a child—a little soul to cherish and call their own.

I was five when they found me. I still remember the day I gathered enough courage to ask why they picked me. Even back then, I understood that most people came looking for babies or teenagers. It was rare for someone to want a kid my age—one who was full of questions and still cried sometimes. But when I asked, they just smiled and told me, It was your eyes.

“It was your eyes,” my mom said. “We’d never seen anything like them—so clear, so pure, so blue.”

She told me that the first time I looked up at them, they couldn’t understand how anyone could leave those eyes—my eyes—without a home or a family.

I love my parents for so many reasons, but most of all because they’ve always made me feel like I belonged. No matter what I wanted to do, big or small, they were always there, supporting me. And on my sixteenth birthday, surrounded by their love, I felt like the luckiest person in the world.

Then there’s Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski—well, my best friend Scott McCall and my impossible, hopeless crush, Stiles Stilinski.

I’ve known them since first grade, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. The three of us always seemed to get into trouble—usually because of one of Stiles’ ridiculous ideas. Sheriff Stilinski started calling us the “Three Showmen” after we got stuck in his patrol car trying to reenact a scene from a movie. Now that I think about it, I don’t remember what movie it was.

Looking back, I’m not sure why I went along with half the things we did. But with them, it never really mattered. They made everything feel like an adventure.

I still remember the day we all met. It feels like it was just yesterday.

"Everyone—quiet down now," the teacher said softly, resting a gentle hand on my shoulder. It was meant to be comforting, but my heart was still racing. "This is Magnara. Magnara Mitchell. She’s new, so I want all of you to be nice and make her feel welcome."

I swallowed hard and looked around the room, my cheeks burning. So many eyes were on me, curious and expectant. I wanted to shrink away, but then I noticed one boy in particular. He had messy brown hair, scabbed knees, and a wide, toothy grin. He was whispering to the boy next to him—Scott, though I didn’t know his name yet. They looked like they were planning something.

Before I could take another step, the boy shot his hand into the air.

"We’ll be her friends!" he announced, jumping up before the teacher even called on him. Without hesitation, he grabbed Scott’s arm and pulled him over to me.

"I’m Stiles," he said, giving a dramatic bow like he was in some kind of royal court. "And this is Scott. We’re your new best friends now. You’re welcome."

I blinked in surprise, then, to my own shock, I laughed. No one had ever introduced themselves to me like that before—so bold and certain, as if we had already been friends forever.

From the moment I met Stiles, he became the most important person in my world. At first, it was just admiration—how he could brighten any room with his energy, how he always had the perfect joke to ease a tense moment, or how he could talk his way into—or out of—just about anything. But over time, I realized it was more than that.

It was the way he never let me sit alone at lunch, always making sure I felt included. The way he remembered little things about me—like how I hated tomatoes or how much I loved being outside.

And then there were the moments that were just ours. Like the time I ruined my science fair project, and he stayed up all night helping me fix it so I wouldn’t have to show up empty-handed. Or the time before finals when I had a panic attack, and he calmed me down, joking that he’d pass the test on charm alone while I was “too smart to fail.”

Somewhere along the way, that wild, impulsive boy with scraped-up knees and an endless supply of sarcasm became more than just my best friend. He became my crush—the one person I couldn’t stop thinking about, the one who could make my heart race with a single glance.

But having a crush on Stiles Stilinski? It’s not easy. He’s completely, hopelessly oblivious. And with his heart set on Lydia Martin, most of the time, it felt like I didn’t even exist.

I adore him—his kindness, his humor, the way he makes even the worst days feel a little lighter. But he never saw me the way I saw him. And somehow, I’ve had to learn to be okay with that.

I’ve thought about telling him—dropping hints, trying to see how he might react. But Stiles is… well, Stiles. The moment he realizes I have feelings for him, everything will change. Our inside jokes, our late-night talks, the way he always brings me curly fries because he knows they’re my favorite—it could all feel different. And I can’t risk that.

So, I keep it to myself. I laugh at his terrible jokes, help him come up with his latest overly complicated plan, and listen when he talks about Lydia, even when it makes my heart ache. It’s easier this way. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.

But sometimes, when I’m lying in bed at night, I wonder—could there be more between us? If he saw me, really saw me, if he knew how I felt… would it even matter? Or would it only make things more complicated?

I don’t know the answer, but for now, I’m happy just being his friend. Even if it hurts a little, I’d rather have Stiles in my life as my goofy, oblivious best friend than risk losing him altogether.

Still, deep down, there’s a small part of me that holds onto hope. A tiny whisper that wonders… What if?

<-->

I guess I wasn’t being entirely honest. My birthday wasn’t when things started to change—but the day after? That was a different story.

This morning, I woke up like usual, stretched, and stayed on my bed with my phone for exactly 36 minutes before looking up to see what I thought would be a summer assignment I have yet to finish on my desk. I did see it, but over top the papers, was an old book.

Sitting there, right in the middle, was a thick, old black leather book. It had a worn cover glittered with purple crystals that looked like they were barely holding on, bent rusted metal corners, and metal latch keeping it shut. Pages that looked like they had been around for centuries—yellowed, dry, and crinkled at the edges.

This was definitely old. It didn’t belong to me.

Curious, I sat down on my chair and carefully undid the latch. The pages rustled as I flipped through them, revealing strange symbols and scribbles. My excitement quickly faded into confusion. I had no idea what I was looking at. The writing seemed like a mix of Greek and Latin, or something else entirely—something unfamiliar. What is this?

I turned the pages faster, hoping for something—anything—I could understand. But the more I looked, the stranger it all became.

Feeling unsettled, I decided to ask my mom about it.

“Hey, Mom?” I called out as I walked down stairs into the kitchen. I hesitated for a second before sitting down at the island, the book still in hand, I don't want to let it go. “Do you know what this is?”

She glanced over her shoulder, eyebrows knitting together. Turning off the stove, she faced me fully.

“No…? Where did you even get that?”

Her confusion only made my stomach twist more. Because the truth was, I had no idea.

“I don’t know. It was just on my desk when I woke up. I thought maybe you or Dad put it in my room.”

She took the book from my hands, turning it over carefully. “We didn’t get you anything like this,” she said, flipping through the pages. Her eyes paused on a few strange symbols, and she frowned before shaking her head. “This doesn’t look like anything we’d buy. It’s... weird.”

She moved toward the trash can, and my heart jumped.

“Wait, don’t throw it away!” I blurted, stepping forward and grabbing the book from her hands. My fingers pressed against its rough, worn cover as I held it close. “I know it looks old and kinda... weird, but there’s something about it. I think it’s interesting.”

She sighed but didn’t argue. “Well, if you really want to keep it, fine. But you have school tomorrow, so make sure you’re ready.” She turned back to the stove, giving me a small smile.

“Okay!” I said quickly, hugging the book to my chest as I hurried upstairs. A strange excitement bubbled up inside me. Something about this book felt different. Special.

Tomorrow was the first day of sophomore year.

←→

Today has been quiet—almost too quiet. After making sure everything was set for tomorrow, I spent hours poring over that strange book, hoping to find something, anything. But in the end, I came up empty-handed.

I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised. A book that practically appeared out of nowhere isn't exactly going to have a Wikipedia page. Still, I can't help but feel a little disappointed.

Now, I’m curled up in bed, dressed in my softest pajamas—a light pink, flowy tank top with spaghetti straps and matching ruffled shorts. I have a different book in my hands, something familiar, something comforting. I needed the distraction. But just as my eyelids grow heavy, just as I start slipping into sleep—

Tap, tap, tap.

I freeze. My heart jumps. For a moment, every horror movie I’ve ever seen flashes through my mind. But then—

Tap, tap. Softer this time, almost hesitant.

Slowly, I slide off my bed, my socks barely making a sound against the floor. With a careful hand, I pull back the curtains—and there he is.

Stiles.

His buzz-cut hair is barely visible in the dim light, but his grin is unmistakable—wide, playful, and entirely too pleased with itself. His breath fogs up in the chilly night air, and for some reason, that small detail makes me smile, too.

I push open the window, the cold air brushing against my skin as I lean out slightly.

"Stiles, what are you doing here?" I whisper, keeping my voice low. Then, glancing over my shoulder, I adjust my glasses and look at the glowing clock on my desk.

"It’s almost midnight!"

“Exactly why I’m here,” Stiles says, his voice light and teasing. “You’ve been hiding in that room for days. Thought I’d rescue you.”

I push my glasses up, raising an eyebrow. “From what? Sleep?” I pause, suddenly suspicious. “And what do you mean ‘days’? You were literally at my house yesterday.”

Stiles chuckles, shifting his weight with that familiar smirk—the one that always means trouble. He nods toward the street where his Jeep is parked, headlights barely glowing. Scott stands next to it, arms crossed, hands stuffed into his pockets. He looks… not exactly mad, but definitely not thrilled to be here either.

“From boredom,” Stiles says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Grab a jacket and let’s go.”

I blink at him, unsure if he’s serious. “It’s freezing, I’m in my pajamas, and it’s a school night.” My voice is quiet—I don’t want to wake my parents. “Besides, if I go with you, what exactly are we doing?”

Stiles doesn’t answer. Instead, he moves fast, ducking under my window and pulling himself inside like he’s done it a hundred times before. Because he has. But we don’t need to talk about that.

I take a step back, my heart picking up speed as he crosses the room like he belongs here. Then, without a word, he grabs my sneakers from the corner and holds them out to me, like this is already decided.

“What are you—?”

“Sit,” he says, cutting me off. Gently, he nudges me to the edge of the bed and kneels in front of me, slipping my shoes on with quick, precise movements—like he’s afraid I’ll change my mind if he hesitates.

“Stiles, I didn’t say—”

“Shhh,” he interrupts, tying the last knot. Then, without a word, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders, pulling it snug around me. His hands rest there for a brief moment, warm and reassuring, before he takes my hand and tugs me toward the window.

“Stiles,” I whisper sharply, digging my heels into the floor. “Are you kidnapping me?”

“Would it really be kidnapping if you secretly wanted to go?” he teases, flashing that mischievous grin.

Before I can answer, he’s already climbing out the window, landing softly on the grass below. He turns back, arms outstretched, waiting for me.

“You want me to jump!?” I say, my voice rising slightly in alarm.

“Come on,” he urges, quieter this time but just as insistent. “Trust me, Mags.

I hesitate, glancing at my closed bedroom door, then at the soft glow of his Jeep’s headlights in the driveway. Scott is standing by the car, watching us like this is just another normal night with Stiles.

With a quiet sigh, I step onto the windowsill. “If I get grounded, this is your fault,” I mutter.

“Noted,” he says, grinning as he catches me effortlessly and steadies me on the ground.

“Now, let’s go have some fun.”

Stiles grabs my hand as we hurry toward the Jeep, his excitement pulling me along. I struggle to keep up, my heart pounding. “You didn’t answer my question,” I say, half-running beside him. “What are we doing?”

He swings open the passenger door and gently helps me in, his eyes shining with something that makes me nervous. “You’ll see,” he says as he jumps into the driver’s seat. “But I guarantee you, it’ll be worth it.”

Scott climbs into the back with a tired sigh. “We’re looking for half a dead body,” he says flatly.

I freeze. “WHAT?” I whip my head toward Stiles, my pulse spiking.

Stiles shoots Scott a sharp glare through the rearview mirror, muttering something under his breath before gripping the wheel a little tighter. "Thanks for that, Scott. Way to kill the suspense," he says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

I can’t wrap my head around what I just heard. “Did you say… half a dead body? Like, an actual dead person? Or is this one of your weird metaphors?”

“It’s literal,” Scott says, leaning forward between the seats. “I’m not thrilled about it either.”

“Then why are we doing this?!” I ask, looking back at Stiles. He’s still grinning, like this is some kind of grand adventure.

“It’s the last day of summer,” he says, eyes on the road. “Why not go out with a bang?”

I press myself against the seat, gripping the door handle. What have I just gotten myself into?

←→

Scott kept his eyes on the ground, careful not to trip. “Are we seriously doing this?” he asked.

Ahead of us, Stiles led the way with a flashlight. “You’re always bitchin’ that nothing ever happens in this town,” he reminded Scott.

I stayed close behind them, my arms wrapped around myself for warmth. “Well, looking for half a body isn’t exactly my idea of exciting,” I murmured, my voice quiet. I didn’t want to draw attention to us—or to whatever else might be out there.

Stiles glanced over his shoulder at me with a smirk. “Mags, I knew that if I told you why we were coming out here, you wouldn’t want to come. You’d chicken out.”

I swallowed, shifting on my feet. “Well, can you blame me? It’s cold, it’s late, and it’s supposed to rain,” I said, my voice trembling just a little. Something about all of this felt… wrong. But I couldn’t quite bring myself to say it out loud, it’s like someone was looking at us.

Stiles barely seemed to notice my nerves. “I gave you my jacket so you can be warm,” he said, turning his gaze forward again.

I let out a small huff, tugging the oversized sleeves over my hands. “Yeah, ‘cause it’s working real wonders for a girl wearing short-shorts,” I said, my voice dry but soft.

Stiles chuckled, reaching out to help me over a rock. “Mags, you’re barely five feet. My jacket might as well be a dress on you.”

I took his hand, stepping carefully. “Still doesn’t help my legs,” I mumbled, but I didn’t complain further. Stiles was trying to look out for me in his own way, even if this whole situation made my stomach twist with unease.

I sighed softly as we walked, the silence stretching between us. The woods felt too still, too quiet, and that strange feeling of being watched wouldn’t go away. I tried not to think about it, but before I could, Scott let out an annoyed sigh.

“I was trying to get a good night’s sleep for practice tomorrow,” he said.

Stiles scoffed. “Right, because sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “No, because I’m playing this year. In fact, I’m going to make first line.”

“That’s the spirit. Everyone should have a dream. Even a pathetically unrealistic one.” Stiles said, he kept walking, leading the way, his voice thick with sarcasm.

I glanced back at Scott, feeling bad for him. “Sti, be nice to Scotty,” I said gently. “It’s good for him to have ambition and drive.”

Stiles stopped and turned to me, a teasing grin on his face. “Why are you saying that like I don’t have ambition or drive?”

“I never said you didn’t.”

“That’s because I do,” he said, nodding as if he were proving a point. Then he turned back around. “I have ambition and drive, thank you very much.”

I held back a small frown. Lydia Martin isn’t an ambition or a drive, just a fantasy. No… that wasn’t fair. That was just… jealousy.

Scott glanced around. “Just out of curiosity,” he said, “which half of the body are we looking for?”

“I was wondering that too.” I hesitated, raising my hand slightly.

“Huh.” He kicked a small rock out of his way, not bothering to look at us. “I didn’t even think about that.”

As we walked deeper into the woods, the ground grew uneven, forcing us to step carefully. Twigs snapped beneath our feet, and the air felt heavier the farther we went. A nervous chill crept over me.

“What if whoever killed the girl is still out here?” Scott asked, his voice quieter now.

Stiles, walking ahead of us, responded without turning around. “Also something I didn’t think about.” His usual sarcastic tone was there, but I could hear a hint of unease beneath it.

Scott sighed. “Comforting to know you’ve planned this out with your usual attention to detail.”

I stopped mid-step and looked at them both. “So, we’re looking for half a body, and there’s a chance we might end up like it?” My voice wavered, and I hated that it did.

“Pretty much,” Stiles said, completely unfazed. He climbed up a small hill and then turned, reaching out his hand to help me up.

I took it, pulling his jacket tighter around me as a shiver ran through me. “This is officially the worst idea you’ve ever had,” I muttered.

Stiles just rolled his eyes, flashing me that familiar playful grin before jogging ahead with sudden determination. I hesitated before following, my stomach twisting with nerves.

“Stiles!” I called out, hurrying after him. The tall bushes scratched at my legs, and the dry leaves crunched loudly beneath my feet. I winced at the noise—I wasn’t exactly being quiet.

Behind me, Scott’s heavy breathing caught my attention. I turned just in time to see him slow down, fumbling for his inhaler.

“Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight!” Scott shouted at Stiles, his voice breaking through the quiet night. He sounded frustrated, but Stiles hardly seemed to notice.

At the top of the hill, Stiles suddenly dropped flat onto the ground, waving frantically for us to do the same. “Down! Down!” he whispered.

I quickly obeyed, sinking into the dirt beside him. Scott crashed down next to me, still gasping for breath. We were looking at the police that were patrolling the area for the body.

Before I could say anything, Stiles grabbed my hand and yanked me up again. “Come on!” he urged, already running. His grip was tight, and I stumbled trying to keep up.

“Stiles, wait up!” Scott called from behind us.

I glanced back and saw him struggling to climb the hill, his inhaler clutched tightly in his hand.

“Stiles, wait for Scott—” I started, but before I could finish, bright beams of light flashed directly into our faces.

Then came the barking—loud and fierce, cutting through the night like a warning.

“Stay right there!” a man’s voice shouted, making me freeze on the spot.

Stiles grabbed my arm, trying to pull me back, but in his rush, he tripped. He went down hard, and before I could steady myself, I was falling with him. We hit the ground with a heavy thud, pain jolting through my behind as my tailbone was now effectively bruised.

Before I could fully process what just happened, another voice broke through the tension. This one was calm but firm. “Hold on, hold on. These little delinquents belong to me.”

Relief washed over me. Thank god. For a second, I thought we were actually about to get arrested.

Still sitting on the ground, I lifted a weak hand in a small wave. “Hi... Mr. Stilinski,” I said awkwardly.

Stiles scrambled to help me up, and I clumsily got to my feet, brushing myself off. But as soon as I looked up, I saw his dad’s flashlight shining right at him, his eyes sharp and unreadable.

“Do you listen in on all of my phone calls?” Mr. Stilinski asked. His voice was steady, but the crease in his forehead made me instinctively take a step back.

Stiles shifted uncomfortably, glancing around like he was searching for an escape—or at least something to distract his dad. “No,” he said quickly, a little breathless. Then, after a beat, he added, “Not the boring ones.”

I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh, but Mr. Stilinski didn’t look amused at all. His brow furrowed as he asked, “Where’s the third little showman?” It was obvious he was already tired of dealing with us.

Stiles jumped in quickly. “Who? Scott? Scott’s at home. Said he wanted to get a good night’s sleep for the first day back at school.” He wiped his hands on his jeans, shifting uncomfortably. “So… it’s just me and Mags.” He hesitated, then swallowed hard. “Just us… alone, in the woods.”

The words lingered awkwardly in the air. I blinked at him, confused, and Mr. Stilinski didn’t look any less baffled.

“Why are you making it sound like we were having sex?”

Oh no. Oh no, no, no—why did I say that?!

Stiles’ face turned bright red. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. “What? No! I wasn’t—wait, I mean—” He turned desperately to his dad, but Mr. Stilinski just raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Oh, come on, that’s not what I meant!” Stiles groaned.

Completely ignoring us, Mr. Stilinski called out into the woods, “Scott? You out there?” His voice cut through the quiet night. When no answer came, he sighed and turned back to me.

“Alright, well, you, young lady,” he said, setting his flashlight down and pointing firmly at me, “are going to be escorted home by my son. And you, young man,” he continued, turning a sharp look on Stiles, “you’re coming with me. We’re going to have a little talk about something called Invasion of Privacy.”

Mr. Stilinski didn’t wait for an answer. He grabbed Stiles by the ear and started dragging him away. I hurried after them, my shoes crunching against the frozen leaves.

“Come on, Dad,” Stiles complained, pulling himself free as we reached his Jeep. “We didn’t even find anything!” He sounded so disappointed.

“That doesn’t matter!” Mr. Stilinski snapped, pointing a stern finger at him. “You don’t know what’s out there. You both could’ve been hurt—or worse. Take Mags home,” he said, turning to me with a look that made me shrink into my coat. “And don’t think your parents won’t be hearing about this tomorrow.”

“Okay…” I mumbled, keeping my gaze down as I climbed into the passenger seat. The door groaned when I shut it, and a blast of cold air slipped inside.

Stiles slid behind the wheel, muttering to himself as he started the engine. The heater roared, but the cold inside the Jeep still clung to us as we waited for the windows to clear.

He glanced over, hands resting on the steering wheel. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, Sti,” I said, letting out a deep sigh. “We just…left Scotty out there by himself. It’s freezing, it’s going to rain, and he doesn’t even have a ride home.” I hesitated, pushing my glasses up my nose as I stared at the dark woods. “And the whole time we were out there, I just… I don’t know. I felt like someone was watching us.”

Stiles went still for a moment, then gave me a lopsided smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve been watching way too many horror movies, Mags.”

I wanted to believe him. I really did. But as the Jeep rolled onto the empty road, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something—someone—was still out there, watching from the shadows.

I HOPE YOU HOES ENJOYED ITS😻🤩

I wrote this earlier this year. Right now, I'm finishing up chapter 10, but for these past few months, this has just been a passion project 😭. If you guys want me to post chapter 2, just lemme know, girlie's.

And tell me about some theories if u have any😏

BYE Y'ALL