no-name-for-me

[no-name-for-me]

I had this stargent thought that wouldn't leave me that I thought you might like? Stallison bffs where Stiles is making excuses to linger at Allison's place to make eyes at her single dad, while Chris is always seductively cleaning his guns, exercising, coming out of the shower, etc.

Okay so fun fact: I actually HAVE an upcoming Stargent fic like that. Naughty New Neighbor. Where Victoria is pre-show dead and Chris and Allison move in next door to the Stilinskis. As Stiles' new neighbor, Allison hits it off with him and he loves the added benefit from this friendship that he regularly gets to stare at her hot dad. Also, Stiles and Chris' bedrooms are directly opposite each other......

(And by 'upcoming', I mean it's the Mischief Monday for July 28th.)

[no-name-for-me]

King Howard, to teach his "insolent" son a lesson, chooses Steve as the next King and lets his princely son slip off the throne. Obadiah is very furious, for obvious and not so obvious reasons. But then there's Steve who's supposed to choose a personal maid and he's got some snarky flirty rivalry going on with Tony, so he obviously chooses Tony, the actual prince as his "maid"

Now Steve expects Tony to be this spoiled child who doesn't know how to do manual labor. But the thing is Tony was raised by the castle staff. Jarvis had him dragged by the ear to clean up the mess in his workshop, Pepper had him chased by the dogs so he could learn to care for animals and Rhodey taught him how to balance fourteen different things on his arms, just for fun. So imagine Steve, being actually surprised by Tony doing every chore— though not without any complaining and whining about how a prince shouldn't be slaving for people like steve anyways.

Then there's Tony, who thinks Steve is going to fumble at every step of being a king because there's just too much to learn. But there's Steve being a better, kinder King than his dad—actually listening to the court's and not just obie's advice. He even asks for Tony's opinion on a few matters. Goes out of his way to help people. Gives great speeches and wins over the hearts of the kingdom which Howard never in a million years could do

Just—what started as an obvious way to humiliate tony, becomes a way for them to fall in love and Howard is obviously pulling his hair out because this wasn't supposed to happen.

And no one really knows when the prince stopped being a maid and became a consort instead but boy howdy the kingdom sure could use a respite from their weird courting dance.

[no-name-for-me]

OMG please do a fic for "yeah you're annoying but I'd fuck you if you asked." Sterek

Bahahaha I love that meme. Here ya go!

••••••

It started, as most things did in Stiles’ life, with Derek insulting him.

“You’re annoying,” Derek muttered, arms crossed, scowl firmly in place.

Stiles raised an eyebrow, lips twitching in amusement. “Wow. And here I thought we were finally getting along. I even brought you a sandwich, man. Turkey. No onions. I know your issues with onions.”

Derek glanced at the sandwich, which Stiles had indeed placed on the coffee table between them like a peace offering. His jaw ticked. “You’re still annoying,” he repeated. Then added, too casually, “But I’d fuck you if you asked.”

Silence.

The kind of silence that could crush souls.

Stiles blinked. “What?”

Derek blinked too. “What?”

From the far end of the room, where Peter was sipping something dark and disgusting looking from a whiskey tumbler, came his lazy voice, “He said he’d fuck you if you asked.”

Stiles’ jaw dropped. “I - what?!”

Peter looked entirely too entertained, like he’d been hoping this would happen in front of him. “Honestly, I’ve been waiting for this trainwreck. You two are exhausting.”

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” Derek said quickly, ears red, voice about two octaves deeper than normal. “I mean. I did. But. Not like that.”

“Pretty sure you said exactly that,” Stiles said, voice faint. “Right after calling me annoying. Which is... like, textbook enemies to lovers banter, Derek.”

Peter smirked. “If this is a rom com, I’m the chaotic bisexual best friend who drinks too much and has a fabulous apartment. Honestly, I’m fine with that.”

Derek ran a hand over his face. “This is not happening.”

“It is, though,” Stiles said, standing, pacing now. “You just casually offered me dick like it’s a Starbucks gift card. ‘You’re annoying, but here’s a loyalty card - 10 insults and you get a fuck.’”

“That’s not-” Derek started, but Stiles cut him off with a hand gesture.

“No, no, no. You don’t just drop a nuclear sex bomb in the middle of an insult and then act like it’s nothing. I need a moment. My brain short circuited.”

Derek stood too, suddenly and very, very close. “Would it really be that bad?”

Stiles froze. “What?”

“If I meant it.”

Stiles’ breath caught. “Do you?”

Peter actually groaned. “God, someone just kiss already. Or better yet - fuck. I’m going to dinner. Text me if either of you end up in the ER or accidentally kill each other.”

He left.

Derek and Stiles didn’t even notice.

“You’re serious?” Stiles asked, voice a little too high to be casual.

Derek nodded, eyes darker now, focused and intense. “I’ve wanted you for a while. You just never shut up long enough for me to say it.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles whispered. “You really have a kink for mouthy disasters.”

“Apparently.”

There was a beat.

Then Stiles surged forward, grabbing Derek’s shirt. “If you’re gonna do it, then do it.”

Derek kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It was all teeth and lips and years of tension burning up in seconds. Derek’s hands were everywhere - on his hips, in his hair, yanking him closer. Stiles responded like he’d been waiting for this his whole damn life, because it felt like he had. He moaned into the kiss, let Derek walk him backward until his knees hit the couch and they tumbled down in a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter.

“Peter’s gonna know,” Stiles murmured between kisses. “He’s going to come back and know.”

“I don’t care.”

Stiles grinned, wild and delighted, as he reached for Derek’s belt. “God, I love it when you’re reckless.”

Derek growled. “Shut up."

“You shut up.”

Derek kissed him again.

The loft was loud for a long time after that.

[no-name-for-me]

Stiles to the pack minus Derek: You’re probably wondering why I’ve gathered you here today

Scott: You mean this has nothing to do with the mass “CODE RED. DEREK IS WEARING A SWEATER WITH THUMBHOLES” text you sent?

Stiles: Oh yeah, that’s exactly why I called you here. I needed someone to take me to the hospital when I inevitably pass out from cuteness overload

[no-name-for-me]

Already Home

Pack nights at the loft were loud, chaotic, and exactly what Stiles needed after a long week of school and supernatural nonsense. He’d curled up on the couch, wedged between Isaac and Boyd, still listening to the conversation even as his blinks grew longer. The warmth, the hum of voices, the solid weight of Derek sitting on the armrest beside him—all of it lulled him into sleep before he even realized he was drifting.

It wasn’t until Scott tried to wake him that things got… tense.

“Hey, Stiles—” Scott barely had his hand halfway to Stiles’ shoulder when a low, warning growl rumbled through the room. Scott froze. Everyone did.

Derek was staring him down, eyes dark with the promise of violence if he took one more step.

Scott raised his hands immediately. “Whoa. Not trying to take your boy, dude. Just trying to get him home.”

Derek didn’t even hesitate. His voice was firm, absolute. “He already is.”

The words settled over the pack like a command, like a truth that had always existed even if no one had said it out loud.

Scott blinked, exhaling through his nose. “Okay. Got it.”

There was no more arguing after that.

Derek didn’t trust anyone else to do it, so he scooped Stiles up himself, carefully shifting him so his head rested against Derek’s shoulder. Stiles stirred slightly, making a soft, sleepy noise as his fingers curled into Derek’s shirt.

The pack made no comment as Derek carried him up the loft stairs, though Erica smirked knowingly.

Once in his room, Derek set Stiles down on the bed, tugging the blanket over him with more care than he’d ever admit to. He hesitated for a moment before brushing Stiles’ hair back, fingers tracing lightly over his temple.

He should leave. Give him space. But before he could move away, Stiles shifted, murmuring something barely audible against the pillow.

Derek frowned. “What?”

Stiles’ eyes stayed closed, but he turned his face toward Derek’s touch, exhaling softly. “Heard what you said,” he mumbled. A pause. Then, even quieter, “’M home with you.”

Derek’s breath caught. He swallowed hard, watching Stiles’ face, waiting for any sign that he was awake enough to remember this conversation in the morning. But Stiles was already sinking deeper into sleep, face relaxed in a way Derek rarely saw.

Derek let out a slow breath, then—without thinking too hard about it—leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’ forehead.

“Yeah,” he whispered, “You are.”

[no-name-for-me]

Thinking of Derek makes me think of Derek Morgan. Can you do the scene where he answers and tells Garcia she's on speaker to behave and she says or what, you'll spank me? But with sterek

God, I love those two and their wonky ass rapport they have with each other! Here ya go babe!

••••••

Derek should’ve known better than to call Stiles while Peter was in the room. He should have waited until he was alone, somewhere private, where Stiles couldn’t derail the entire operation with his mouth - his words, not his actual mouth. Though that too could derail…

Derek cut off that train of thought before it went completely off the rails.

He leaned against the wall of the abandoned warehouse they were using as a temporary base, phone pressed to his ear, Peter hunched over a laptop beside him.

“Hey, babe,” he said quietly, the endearment slipping out without thought. “You’re on speaker. Behave.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

“Or what, you’ll spank me?”

Peter froze, his hand halfway to the keyboard. His eyes cut sideways to Derek in the slowest, most deliberate turn imaginable.

Derek squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled through his nose. “Stiles.”

“What?” Stiles replied, voice smug and unrepentant. “You started it. I was just checking the boundaries of the command.”

Peter cleared his throat loudly, closing the laptop with an audible snap. “I’m going to step outside before this devolves into something I can’t unhear.”

“You’re in an abandoned building,” Derek muttered as Peter walked away. “There is no ‘outside’ in the middle of a thunderstorm.”

“I’d rather get struck by lightning than hear more of your mating rituals,” Peter called over his shoulder.

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stiles.”

“Yes, love of my life?” he said sweetly.

“You’re lucky I don’t drive to where you are right now and-”

“And what?” Stiles said, laughing. “Give me a demonstration? Because that’s sounding less like a threat and more like a date.”

Derek growled, but it was more fond than frustrated. “You are impossible.”

“I’m adorable and you love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Rude, Hale,” Stiles said dramatically. “You know, I should revoke your nightly cuddling privileges for that.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

A pause. Then a soft, mischievous hum. “Wouldn’t I?”

Derek straightened up, jaw tight. “I’ve got two words for you, Stiles.”

“Oh?”

“Cold. Feet.”

There was a scandalized gasp. “You monster."

“You want to play games, you better be ready to lose.”

“You’re evil,” Stiles said. “Hot. Brooding. Possibly clinically insane. But definitely evil.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Bold of you to assume I was trying to get somewhere. Though…”

“Nope,” Derek interrupted quickly. “Do not finish that sentence.”

He could hear the grin in Stiles’ voice. “Too late. I’ll text you a full transcript.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Love you!” Stiles called out quickly before the line went dead.

Derek lowered the phone slowly. Peter had returned, leaning against the doorframe with an expression that could only be described as deeply unimpressed.

“Do you remember,” Peter said conversationally, “when you were the scariest Hale and children screamed when they saw you in the woods?”

“No,” Derek muttered.

“Because I do. And now… this.” He gestured vaguely to the phone in Derek’s hand.

Derek crossed his arms. “Jealous?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Only of your tolerance for that boy’s mouth.”

“I like his mouth,” Derek said simply.

Peter snorted. “Clearly.”

Derek turned back to the laptop, opening it again. “He makes me happy, Peter.”

That quieted Peter. After a beat, he nodded once. “Then I suppose the rest of us will just have to suffer.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“You just threatened him with cold feet for misbehaving. And it worked.”

Derek smirked. “He started it.”

Peter stared at him. “You are so far gone it’s embarrassing.”

“Tell me again why you’re living in my loft rent free?”

Peter sighed. “Because I know how to do repairs and you’re a werewolf with the construction skills of a cracked out squirrel.”

Derek couldn’t argue with that. “Fine. But I’m cutting off your Wi-Fi the next time you insult my boyfriend.”

Peter groaned. “Unbelievable.”

Somewhere, in a Jeep parked three towns over, Stiles laughed to himself and hit send on a new text: "So when’s that spanking happening? Just so I can mark it on the calendar."

Derek’s phone buzzed, and he closed his eyes.

God help him, he was in love with an idiot.

[no-name-for-me]

A serious talk

Yeah... This is serious talk

[no-name-for-me]

[no-name-for-me]

Here we are, y'all. This is the first gif I have made in 10 years! Wow, it feels good to flex that muscle after a loooong rest. Maybe it's a bit choppy, but eh it's fine with me as long as I get to watch my meow meow Thanatos tonguing his Zagreus, heh

[no-name-for-me]

Season 4, Episode 4 "The Benefactor" TEEN WOLF (2011–2017)

[no-name-for-me]

Sheriff Stilinski: *starts locking Stiles in a holding cell to keep him from invading crime scenes*

Stiles: *Manages to free himself every time*

Agent McCall: *locks Stiles in a holding cell in an attempt to intimidate him*

Sheriff Stilinski: So I'll see you at home in an hour?

Stiles: Ten minutes tops. I usually only take longer so I don't make the deputies feel bad

[no-name-for-me]

I wonder how the idea of “presenting” would work in a tribal setting. (Don’t know if this sent already; tumblr did a fun thing and sideswiped while I was in the middle of typing this on my phone. I also started this ask...several months ago. LOL)

Imagine Stiles presenting as an omega and his father tossing him into the wilderness as a means to protect him. The other members of the tribe would tear Stiles apart if they found out what he was. It’s a mercy, in his father’s eyes, and a chance; Stiles is resourceful and would have a better life battling the wilds than at the hands of some domineering, cruel alpha.

But there are tales of strange creatures in the wilderness—wolves who walk like men or some combination of the two— monstrous shapeshifters with voracious appetites who take no prisoners.

Stiles happens upon one of these creatures during a full moon. It snarls at him and does its best to strike terror into Stiles’ heart. But weak, hungry, and devastated to be cast out, he simply lays down and closes his eyes, waiting for a killing bite to his throat. Instead, a nose presses against his cheek, then a tongue, and something in Stiles breaks. He throws his arms around the wolf and weeps into his scruff.

Derek shifts just enough that he can haul the boy into his arms and take him home. He growls and snaps at anyone who dares approach him, even his mother. He’s compelled to protect this boy—to provide for him and pamper him until the end of time. His instincts rearrange his understanding of the universe and place this boy at the center. Something lodges deep into the heart of his soul and promises to be as immoveable as the mountains. Derek knows what this is, what this means: he has found his mate.

It causes a bit of a commotion; Derek was courting another member of the pack. But it can’t be helped.

Stiles is too young for pups when he has his first heat with the pack. Derek estimates he’s only fourteen or fifteen, but he stays with him to keep him safe and calm.

When spring comes, the wolves shed their bestial forms and walk as men and women and Stiles sees what Derek looks like for the first time. Heat unfurls in his gut and his heart lurches every time he sets eyes on him. It is a wretched and exquisite sort of torment that takes hold of Stiles, unlike anything he has ever felt before. He has never understood the fascination moths had with flames, but he does now. He would give anything for a morsel of attention and to just exist in Derek’s orbit.

Peter, of all wolves, explains to Stiles what his future will entail. Talia is leery of a human in the pack and won’t take responsibility for his education. Derek avoids it too because he doesn’t want to make assumptions about Stiles’ life—he intuitively doesn’t want to trap him even though every instinct and dark desire is screaming to do exactly that. Ultimately, he wants Stiles to choose him and he thinks that by keeping his mouth shut about the bond cemented in his soul, he has a better chance of accomplishing that.

Stiles is both daunted and ecstatic about the prospect of bearing Derek’s pups—he’s scared of pain but thrilled that he and Derek share that sort of connection—and he sets to learning as many customs as he can. Derek’s pack worships the moon and an ancient tree that few humans have ever set eyes on, deep in the wilderness. Stiles’ former tribe had designated him as a gatherer—considered him too lean and jittery for work that required brute strength and a calmer disposition—but Derek’s pack explores his strengths and weaknesses to see what role he will best fulfil. He isn’t strong or particularly good at hunting but he is clever and designs inventive traps to capture animals and provide for Derek. Derek tries to explain that providing is his job but Stiles continues doing it, insisting that he’s courting Derek. Everyone (Derek included) is highly amused.

He helps rear Derek’s nieces and nephews and his younger cousins to get a feel for his skills as a den mother.

His heats are every three months and he tries desperately to get Derek to claim him, but Derek resists, stating that Stiles is still too young to have pups in his belly. But Stiles is determined and flaunts his body in front of Derek every chance he gets—during wash day, when the pack bathes in the lake, in the morning, when he changes into his clothes, at night, when he undresses for bed (he shares Derek’s den since they’re destined to be a bonded pair). He insists on spending his heat in Derek’s bedding and Derek shifts into a wolf and keeps guard by the door even as Stiles whimpers and whines for him to take him, driving Derek to the brink of his sanity. During the winter, when Derek dons his wolf skin, Stiles will only wear Derek’s clothes to keep warm.  

Derek holds out for two years. Stiles’ body flourishes with good health in that time—he gains lean muscle and his hair grows out. Stiles told Derek in the beginning of their relationship that his tribe also had a strict hierarchy but they followed a different set of rules; the lower ranks rarely saw meat and relied on grains and whatever they could grow. Most of the hunters’ bounty went to the alphas and higher ranked men and women of the tribe. Boys under the age of twenty were required to keep their hair shorn to the scalp.

Stiles’ decision to let it grow even though he’s still under twenty is a sign of healing—that he’s letting go of the customs of his former people.

The next heat that befalls Stiles—in the autumn of his seventeenth year—he arrives at Derek’s bed naked and with determination set in his face, his eyes bleary from the effects of his lust, but full of purpose—he’s not mindless like this; he knows himself. His cheeks and lips are flushed, a reminder that he’s full of life and no longer the pale, stricken stray Derek found in the wilderness. His vibrant spirit captured Derek’s love and attention from the start, but its pull has never been so alluring. Derek surrenders to it gladly and to the truth of what they’ll become after this night.

Derek watches as Stiles sinks to his knees to peel back Derek’s blankets and furs. He doesn’t move as Stiles studies his cock, then crawls over him and straddles his thighs. He denies the instinct to pounce and dominate, to get Stiles underneath him so he can plunge inside him, when his hand wraps around Derek’s cock and pleasures him for the first time. Derek allows him room to explore, to examine the weight of his huge, heavy balls and the considerable length and girth of an alpha werewolf’s engorged cock. Stiles’ mouth parts as his breath comes quicker—his scent is sharp and bright with desire.

Stiles shuffles up Derek’s body and guides Derek’s cock to his slick entrance. Derek opens his mouth to warn Stiles that things need to be done before he’ll be ready to take his cock, but Stiles mewls when their flesh brushes together and says, “I prepared. I—fuck—always prepare myself during my heat. Just in case. The other omegas and women told me how.”

Derek knows Stiles masturbates often—he knows Stiles strategically chooses times that will ensure Derek will hear it—but Derek always tried very hard not to imagine the instruments and methods Stiles may be using to pleasure himself.  

Stiles sinks down on him and his sanity frays as his body opens around Derek. His eyes roll back in his head. His heat consumes his senses—euphoria crackles in every nerve and fills his head with a hazy but immense satisfaction. There is the slightest bit of pain, but he was thorough and being in heat allows his muscles to loosen and accommodate penetration easier. His ability to feel pain is also dampened by the arousal singing in his blood.

The stretch and the heat of Derek’s massive cock are nearly enough to push him over the edge.

Derek’s hips buck, shoving his cock as deep as it will go and Stiles keens and squirms in his lap. Derek allows himself the pleasure to explore Stiles’ body while he adjusts; his hands drift up Stiles’ thighs, encircle and tug at his cock, and trace over his chest to pinch his nipples. But Derek keeps his greedy instincts in check. There will be time to mount him and claim him with the feral, wild abandon that will satisfy his wolf half.

Stiles bounces on his cock, breath punching out of him, panting like a bitch. He makes the prettiest noises—all high and desperate. He comes with a cry and pulls at Derek’s wrists, leaning back, wordlessly urging Derek to climb on top and take charge. And the moment Derek has Stiles under him, his lust blinds him. The shift ripples under his skin and tempts his bones to stretch and broaden. The visceral, gut-punching need to take Stiles in every form he possesses rises to the forefront of his mind. He wants Stiles to feel the full power of his bestial form, when his body is a blend of man and beast. He wants Stiles on his hands and knees while he grips him with his forelegs and fucks his wolf-cock into his wet pussy. He wants Stiles to firmly accept that he is not a man who occasionally walks as a wolf—that he is more than both. Every facet of Derek hungers for him, loves him, will tear the world apart for him.

The moment Stiles is on his back, he spreads his legs wider. He nearly wraps them around Derek’s waist, but Derek practically bends him in half and grips just below the underside of his knees, pinning him in place as he fucks into him like it’s their last day on earth. The slap of their bodies colliding isn’t nearly as lude as their vocal pleasure. Stiles screams and begs without any care that the whole tribe can hear them and Derek has been rendered beyond speech or even human expression—subvocal, growls and snarls tear through his throat.          

Stiles rakes his fingernails down Derek’s back and Derek’s hips buck hard, shoving as deep as he can go. He holds Stiles in place, not allowing him to fuck himself on his cock and move them even an inch apart so his knot can bulge inside him and lock them together. He roars as he comes, shooting his seed into Stiles’ hot cunt.

They rest and mate again. And again. And again. Even once Stiles’ heat ends—far sooner than it usually does, an indication that he may have already conceived Derek’s pup—Derek can’t seem to keep his hands off him or pull his cock out of him.

His uncle calls for an audience with him about something inane like scheduling territory patrols while Derek’s knot is buried in Stiles’ cunt and won’t be going down any time soon. He has to carry Stiles through the tribe, a blanket wrapped around them (at Stile’s grumbled request—modesty is an alien concept to Derek; wolves mate regardless of setting and company—it is simply an act of nature). While they’re still joined and Stiles is a boneless heap in his arms, his mind shattered by bliss, he sits in Derek’s lap, come leaking out of his flooded pussy and down Derek’s balls while Derek and other members of the pack talk rosters.

When they do separate and go about their duties, the moment they see each other, Derek’s cock ends up inside Stiles as quickly as they can manage it. This is the case when bathing day arrives. They’ve not seen each other for a few hours and Derek is in the water when he makes eye contact with Stiles as he’s stripping out of his clothes. Derek’s cock hardens in an instant, anticipating an opportunity to breed his mate.

Stiles wades over to him, the water lapping at their armpits. And then he beckons Derek to follow him to a series of rocks jutting from the lake. He folds his arms over one of the lower ones, rests his cheek against his arms, spreads his legs, and thrusts out his rear, bowing his spine. Presenting himself. Derek licks his lips and wastes no time shoving his cock inside him. They fuck in full view of everyone, the sun beating down on their heads and shoulders. No one really pays it any mind. Stiles sighs into his arms and groans, his relief palpable. Derek fucks him fast because he can’t help himself; he needs Stiles stretched around his knot, needs to put a pup in him.

It’s no surprise when Stiles’ abdomen starts to swell with the confirmation of their success, months later.

And that confirmation certainly doesn’t slow down Stiles’ desire to hop on Derek’s cock as often as he can, or Derek’s instincts to try and put more pups in his mate.  

Wow. This got away from me. Taking a chance to send this even though I feel like this makes me look like a crazy person.

You should post it on ao3, I'm so serious

[no-name-for-me]

sterek historical au no royalty maybe werewolves are known? the hales are well off, not royal, just rich still. laura owns the school house, is the principle, cora owns the bakery, papa hale is the black smith, talia is the judge, peter the doctor, derek the sheriff, and the only reason why they get business and respect is because everyone NEEDS them, otherwise the common knowledge of them being werewolves would have the entire town shun and ignore them. stiles on the other hand is the scary (scary bc of how sexy he is, derek would say) witch that lives in the woods that every human is terrified of but every supernatural creature that lives in town goes to for help, he's a very old witch, thousands of years old. even the hales are frightened of him because there was one day the hales came up to him to ask for a favor, maybe there was a enemy pack sniffing around their land, but they did something to greatly offend stiles and he was so angry that he created a storm over the hale house for entire month. just the hale house, the winds got up to 25 mph, a small tornado tore through and wrecked their garden. but one day stiles appears in town and he's different, sick, mentally ill. and the hales remembered that even though stiles DID wreck their garden, he also got rid of the enemy pack. so now they take him in to care for him but usually with things like this they'd go TO stiles, but they can't because stiles is talking gibberish. randomly complimenting people, speaking to the dead as if they're in front of him, speaking in riddles that make no sense, hallucinating. refusing to let derek out of his sight. derek has always been obsessed with the witch, he thought that the storm was hilarious and powerful and sexy, so he's happy to have the task of taking care of him, but with stiles' mental health declining so does his physical and they need to hurry up and figure out what's going on with him. maybe it's the same sickness his human mother died of all those thousands of years ago. so now, how in the hell are the hales supposed to beat a human illness??? (sorry for the long ask, you asked for thoughts and well, here's a thought 😅)

Haha thanks for the ideas! 🌸🎀💖 Stiles being a scary powerful witch is always up my alley

[no-name-for-me]

s06 spoilers

[no-name-for-me]

Peter is invited to the wedding of a friend and he doesn’t like parties but he still goes and it goes fine honestly and then he meets the father of his friends new wife and he immediately falls in love 

Lucky for him Tony also has difficulties keeping his eyes away from Peter

[no-name-for-me]