#Stiles is a bit of a disaster

[grace5425]

love you so

Stiles Stilinski had never been particularly skilled at hiding his emotions. He wore them on his sleeve—no, more like plastered them on a billboard for everyone to see. Words tended to tumble out of his mouth before he had the chance to filter or finesse them, and his big, brown eyes always gave him away. His cheeks flushed with betrayal at the slightest provocation, no matter how hard he tried to will the embarrassment away. Subtlety had never been his strong suit.

But when it came to you, he had perfected his air of indifference.

Or so, he thought.

You were Scott’s baby sister—though only by a year—and yet something about that label made you feel miles out of reach. Some unwritten, iron-clad rule of the sacred bro code had lodged itself in his brain from the moment he realized that his feelings for you weren’t just a passing crush or some fleeting schoolyard fascination. It had settled in quietly at first, just a whisper at the back of his mind. But over time, it grew louder, harder to ignore. Still, no matter how his heart thudded whenever you laughed or how his stomach twisted when you smiled in his direction, he clung to that code like a lifeline.

Because you just made it so damn easy.

It wasn’t fair—the way you wrapped yourself around his life without even realizing it. The way you still made him seal pinky promises with a kiss to the thumb, like you were both still kids, like the world hadn’t already started to pull you apart in different directions. The way you’d steal his hoodies without asking, sleeves hanging past your hands, smelling faintly like him by the time you returned them weeks later. How you always claimed the passenger seat of his Jeep like it was made for you, feet on the dash, music turned just a little too loud. The way you held him on the worst days—quietly, fiercely—when life got too heavy, too real, too much. Like you knew exactly how to carry the parts of him he didn’t let anyone else see.

And God, he knew you.

He knew the way you bit the inside of your cheek when nerves started to creep in, the way your eyes flickered around when you were overthinking. He knew what songs you played when sleep refused to come—soft, sad things with lyrics that hit too close to home. He knew you hated your natural waves, the way they curled wildly no matter how hard you tried to tame them, and how you’d scowl at your reflection, even though he thought you looked beautiful like that—free, untamed, real.

He noticed how you always caught yourself mid-sentence, slowing down the words that tended to fall out too fast, too messy for most people to follow. But he followed. He always followed. You never had to explain yourself to him—he just understood.

He knew you hated anything grape-flavored, but cherry was your favorite, despite the fact that you couldn’t stand the fruit itself. He knew you despised math with every fiber of your being, but could talk about history like it was a story only you had lived. You wanted to be a writer—he remembered the way your eyes lit up when you talked about it, your dreams too big for this town. You wanted to go to college somewhere on the coast, where the air smelled like salt and possibility. You loved the ocean—not just the view, but the sound of it, the smell of it. You said it made you feel infinite.

And somehow, with you around, he almost felt infinite too.

That’s how he felt now—completely undone—watching you from his spot on the edge of your bed. The room was quiet, except for the soft hum of whatever playlist you had playing in the background and the occasional rustle of paper as you furiously scribbled something down. The window was still cracked open from when he’d climbed through it thirty minutes earlier, letting in the crisp evening air that smelled faintly of pine and the fading light of sunset.

Your hair was thrown up in a messy knot, wisps falling loose around your face in a way that looked effortlessly perfect, though he knew you’d call it a disaster. The oversized T-shirt you wore—his, he realized with a flutter of something in his chest—hung off one shoulder, exposing the smooth line of your collarbone and the faintest glimpse of a sports bra strap. It swallowed you whole, two sizes too big, and yet somehow it looked like it belonged to you more than it ever had to him.

Your eyebrows were furrowed in frustration, your full attention locked on the math worksheet spread out in front of you. You were chewing on the end of your pencil, eyes narrowing at the numbers as if glaring at them hard enough would make the answers magically appear. He was supposed to be helping you—technically, that was the whole reason he was here tonight—but he hadn’t said a word in at least ten minutes. He couldn’t. Not when you looked like that. Not when you were completely in your own world, sitting there in his T-shirt, mumbling about equations you hated, like you hadn’t just stolen the air right out of his lungs.

“You’re staring,” you said, not looking up, your voice soft but teasing, pencil still poised over the page.

Stiles blinked, caught. “No, I’m not,” he lied, terribly.

You glanced up then, one brow arched, a knowing smirk playing on your lips. “You’ve been staring at me for the past ten minutes, Stilinski. Either help me figure out how to factor these equations or admit you’ve got a crush.”

His mouth opened, then closed again, like his brain hadn’t quite caught up to your words. “I—uh—what?” he stammered, voice cracking slightly. “I do not have a crush. That’s ridiculous. Who said that? You did. That’s weird. You’re weird.”

You laughed, and the sound was like sunlight—warm, unbothered, familiar. “You’re deflecting,” you said simply, turning back to your worksheet. “Classic Stiles move.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, heart thudding too loudly in his chest. “I’m not deflecting. I’m… strategizing.”

You snorted. “Oh, yeah? What’s the strategy?”

“Make you forget the math and confuse you with my charm.”

You looked up again, lips twitching like you were trying not to smile. “So far, you’re just confusing.”

“Still counts,” he muttered, but he smiled too, soft and crooked.

You stared at him for a beat longer, eyes searching his face like you were trying to decode something he hadn’t said out loud yet. Then, without warning, you scooted closer, nudging your knee against his.

“You really suck at hiding things, you know that?” you said quietly.

His breath caught. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I know.”

You tilted your head, eyes gentle now. “So why do you keep trying to hide this?”

Stiles looked at you—really looked—and all the rules he’d tried to follow, the ones about bro code and boundaries, felt like background noise. You were right here. You always had been. And he was so, so tired of pretending.

“I guess I was waiting for the right moment,” he said.

You smiled, barely-there but real. “And?”

He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I think this is it.”

Your breath hitched, just barely, and for a second neither of you moved. The space between you was thin—barely there—and charged with something unspoken, something that had been building for a long, long time. You looked at him with those eyes that always saw too much, always saw him, and this time… you didn’t look away.

“So,” you said, your voice a little quieter now, a little more careful. “Are you gonna kiss me, or are you still waiting for a better moment?”

Stiles let out a breathy laugh, more nerves than humor. “God, I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.”

“Then do it,” you whispered.

And he did.

He leaned in slow, like giving you time to change your mind, like he couldn’t quite believe this was real. But you didn’t move away. You met him halfway. His lips brushed yours gently at first—soft, unsure—testing the waters. But when you sighed against his mouth, everything else fell away. His hand found your cheek, thumb brushing your skin like he wanted to memorize the feel of it. Your fingers curled in the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, slow and warm and just a little messy, like both of you had been waiting for this but didn’t know exactly how to do it right. It didn’t matter. It felt right. It felt like finally.

When you pulled apart, just slightly, your foreheads rested together. Neither of you opened your eyes right away.

“Guess we’re breaking a few rules,” you murmured, a breath against his lips.

Stiles smiled, still a little dazed. “Screw the rules.”

You laughed again, and he swore it was his favorite sound in the world.

“Okay,” you said, leaning in for one more kiss. “Just don’t tell Scott until after finals.”

“Deal,” he whispered, and kissed you again like he didn’t need to breathe.

[kymera219]

I've officially posted 30 Teen Wolf fics on A03! Granted this number is probably small potatoes in general, but for being in a Fandom for a little over six months and trying to write around two rambunctious womb nuggets, I feel very accomplished 🤣

Here's a master list of all my Teen Wolf fics in case someone wants to check them out and revel in my joy lol

~STETER~

New Year's Resolution Solution 383 Words

Stiles tries to make a list of New Year's resolutions, but Peter has his own goal in mind

A Familal Present 500 words

Malia gives Peter something unexpected for Christmas (and Stiles surprises them both)

My Furry Little Friend 2,126 words

Stiles gets a new dog....sort of

I'll Always Choose You 615 words

"You....actually chose me?"

The 'no one ever chooses me' went unsaid, but Stiles heard it, and he suddenly had a deep, visceral hatred for anyone that had ever made the older man feel that way.

The Bone Collector 711 words

Peter becomes privy to one of Stiles's more...unusual hobbies

Blood and Bone (You're Everything I Own) 844 words

Stiles and Peter encounter a problem in the preserve which leads to violence...among other things

Curly Fry Conundrum 590 words

Dinnertime with the Stilinski-Hales is never a dull affair

Sleeping with the Fishes 311 Words

Body disposals and grammar lessons...

I'm Fine Until I'm Not 486 words

Stiles is tired of pretending and wishes someone could see he was hurting.

One person does.

Shovel Talk 399 words

Peter gets a late night phone call that changes everything

The Murder Husband Club 275 words

Mason's friends have strange tastes in partners

Seasonal Romance 134 words

Stiles learns something new about Peter

Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid 361 words

Scott gets some news he did not expect to hear...ever.

A Bit of a Mess 175 words

A Steter drabble based on the prompt "In my defense, you left me unsupervised"

Wish We Were Together (Now I Don't Know When I’ll See You) 847 words

Stiles feels like he's finally ready to move on, but he needs a sign from the one person he cares about most before he can

~Sterek~

The Best Part for Me (Is Laying Next to You) 767 words

Stiles is tactile with everyone in the pack but Derek, and the Alpha wants to know why

Hungover and Hung Out 159 words

Stiles drinks a little too much the night before...much to poor Derek's exasperation

Summertime Sadness 370 words

Derek's missing his family traditions so Stiles determines to think of some new ones

Date Night Disaster 268 words

Derek and Stiles finally get some alone time, but what they do with it isn't what anyone expected

Worm Woes 411 words

Stiles is upset, Derek is confused, and Peter is endlessly entertained by the both of them

Don't Touch My Things (That Includes Him) 660 words

Hunters decide to kidnap Derek..

Stiles shows them why that's a bad idea

Sourwolf Karaoke 1,724 words

The pack throws a surprise birthday party for Stiles, and Cora convinces her brother that it's the perfect opportunity to finally reveal his feelings

Eyes on Fire 683 words

Eyes on fire

Your spine is ablaze

Felling any foe with my gaze

~Poly Ships~

Canines and Confectioneries 478 words (Derek/Peter/Stiles)

A slight misunderstanding about werewolf anatomy leads to Stiles having a panic attack about his boyfriends eating habits

Contact Chaos 632 words

(Peter/Deucalion/Stiles)

Hunter's make the mistake of thinking they have the Demon Wolf's son that they can use as leverage.

What they actually have is a lot worse....for them

Christmas Clause-tastrophy 632 words

(Derek/Peter/Stiles)

A drunk Stiles is not always a fun Stiles....at least not for Peter

Spooks, Kooks, and Werewolves Oh My 1,864 words

(Peter/Stiles/Chris)

While on their honeymoon, Stiles thinks it's a good idea to prove to Chris and Peter that ghosts are real

They get more than they bargained for

Scents & Sensuality 970 words

(Peter/Stiles/Erica)

Peter finds something unexpected after he comes back from the dead

Crack in the Glass 660 words

(Derek/Peter/Stiles)

Scott's lack of faith in Stiles leads to him getting kidnapped...but luckily there are still two people that are on his side

~Other TW Ships~

Just a Shirt 207 words

(Stiles/Allison)

Scott notices Allison wearing a familiar piece of clothing

[agneslovestheinternet-blog]

bisexual disaster stiles stilinski

adult!stiles, nsfw headcanons

bisexual disaster stiles stilinski who’s incredibly sore from getting railed in the shower this morning by derek hale but still manages to fuck his girlfriend into his mattress until she’s screaming his name

bisexual disaster stiles stilinski who frequents both gay and straight bars and often gets the two confused when he’s drunk enough, leading to disgusted lesbians scoffing at him in the former and angry straight guys shoving him to the ground in the latter

bisexual disaster stiles stilinski who refuses to stop flirting with his friends in front of people, no matter how many times it sends mixed signals about his relationship status

bisexual disaster stiles stilinski who is absolutely not out at work, which leads to a few scandalized whispers rippling through the office when a buff dude in a black camaro picked him up one day and kissed him on the cheek when he got into the car

bisexual disaster stiles stilinski who frequently forgets the anatomy of whoever he’s hooking up with, leading to some very confusing moves, like pressing on a guy’s lower stomach when he’s fucking them in missionary (you’re not even remotely near their stomach, dog) or trying to give a straight girl a rim job (straight guys don’t do that, now you’ve scared her, stiles)

bisexual disaster stiles stilinski who gives scott an aneurysm trying to keep track of who he’s fucking and who he’s just friends with once he comes out to him

bisexual disaster stiles stilinski who’s dad secretly wishes he’ll settle down with a nice, stoic man that can calm his son down a bit but would never tell him that

bisexual disaster stiles stilinski who realized he liked girls in preschool but didn’t realize he liked guys until he was sixteen, when he clicked on the wrong porn category and still ended up cumming all over his fist to a video of a guy that looked kind of like him getting pounded in the ass by a dude twice as big as him

bisexual disaster stiles stilinski who’s so much of a switch it gives his partners whiplash; one night he’s whimpering to be touched and saying he’ll be a good boy, the next he’s shoving them against a wall and demanding they suck his cock like a good little slut

bisexual disaster stiles stilinski who got passed around friend groups in college like a venereal disease, because he’d fuck, (or be fucked by), anything with a pulse and enthusiastic consent

bisexual disaster stiles stilinski who’s a huge fan of bubble baths after sex so his bathroom looks like a lush stockroom and he often sends hookups home with bath bomb goodie bags

bisexual disaster stiles stilinski who adjusts his drink of choice to whoever he’s drinking with; he’s equally happy to crush miller lites, shoot tequila, or sip daiquiris

bisexual disaster stiles stilinski who at the peak of his slutty era in his early twenties had seven, count ‘em, (7) different dating apps on his phone, three where he said he was gay, three where he said he was straight and one where he actually said he was bi, that he only used for threesomes

let me know if you'd like a part two to this, I could write a million of these:)

[sibyllinebooks]

Hi, gorgeous! How do you think Stiles would execute breakfast in bed? Beautiful disaster maybe? Or would he be super careful and tame his clumsiness?

(I hope you're feeling much better! 💜)

omg hi lovely !! i am feeling a bit better now <33 and this is SUCH a cute prompt, thank you for asking and giving me this :))

as stiles is our resident adhd disaster i think he tries really hard. but alas, i don’t think he is as successful as he hopes.

as his mother died when he was young, he wasn’t really taught to cook and since noah works most of the time, i think it’s a lot of junk food nights and simple meals. ramen, mac and cheese, anything easy to do. and while i do think some aspects of breakfast are easy for him to cook, the elaborate breakfast in bed idea is a bit too advanced for our dear boy.

maybe it’s valentine’s day, your birthday, or a random day where he wants you to feel special and he gets the idea in his mind. so he tries his absolute hardest.

he gathers all the ingredients and lays them out and he has a system, he swears he does but you’d never be able to decode it. at first, it’s going well. the eggs are fine and the bacon is sizzling in the pan, but things start to decline when he forgets the toaster oven. he’s humming to himself as he pushes the bacon around in the pan, dancing a little in the cute little apron he’s wearing ( i told you, he’s committed to the bit ). and his mind wanders a little to you and how happy you’ll be and suddenly the smell of burnt bread fills his nostrils and he freaks. it throws him off his game.

so in his attempt to clean up the burnt toast and rid the kitchen of the smoke and the acrid smell, the bacon in turn gets forgotten about. it fries to a crisp and is unable to be salvaged. by now, the eggs are cold.

it disheartens the poor boy. so he probably just brings you takeout breakfast instead ( which is still just as sweet because he took time out of his day to bring you food. )

in summary, i think he would try so hard to make it perfect which it what ultimately messes him up. and he learns it’s much more fun when you cook breakfast together, being goofy and where he isn’t as in his head about it being the “perfect” breakfast in bed. besides, once you’re done cooking you can always take the tray of breakfast foods back to bed and cuddle while you eat.

[sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy]

Vote on the title for my Dad!Derek x FBI Agent!Stiles fic (draft title: Daddy- I mean, Dad Derek)

Summary:

Stiles got shot because of his own reckless behavior and his superiors decide he should take some leave. What better way to celebrate his survival than going back to the place that managed to kill him twice?

When he gets back to Beacon Hills, he finds it’s changed a bit. Scott working as a paramedic, a whole hospital team that knows about werewolves, and a supernaturally good high school Lacrosse team. 

Between the possibility or a new pack in town, a rumor about Stiles’s connection to a suspiciously familiar looking teen and all the pain meds he’s taking to make it through the day, what’s a guy to do first?

AKA: Stiles goes back to Beacon Hills after getting shot on the job as an FBI agent. He meets the teenage Eli and becomes a pseudo-parent/mentor to the kid and becomes a part of the new Hale Pack.

[sterekchub]

Derek as a fitness influencer and Stiles as one of those guys who makes ridiculous food challenges like a giant butterfinger bar or something…and Derek ends up on Stiles’s show eating his creations.

Oooh. This gives "hanging out with Stiles made me fat" and "How did I end up as the fattest one?!" Derek is the fitness influencer who has never actually struggled a day in his life to stay fit or thin. He posts the videos that are easy for werewolves, almost impossible for any humans who are dedicated gym gurus, and has the opinion of "I'm not putting anything into my body that isn't nutritious and fresh" and comes across like he thinks anyone who isn't TRYING to get fit is doing something terribly wrong. Stiles is not above admitting the man is still hot, but he at least mutes his workout videos when he jerks off to them. He doesn't need to be fat-shamed, when Stiles' brand is....straddling that line between being an obvious gainer and just making food content. He makes the crazy food challenges for his video, takes a few bites and BAM. Video done. Except Stiles is never one to waste food (and most of his food challenges look pretty damn good) so he normally eats the entire thing anyway while he's editing the videos. Which makes him the perfect candidate for someone from Derek's PR team to reach out to about a 'collab'. Which is code for- Derek wants to make an example out of Stiles, bark at him like a drill sergeant from a porno until Stiles sheds the weight, and get more content. Stiles isn't stupid. He's not going to be in any of Derek's videos, if Derek isn't in his. It ends up as a huge disaster. For Derek. Stiles refuses to stick to ANY diet plan. Grabs lunch with Derek and makes a big show about ordering the fattiest thing on the menu, taking a forkful of carbonara like he's having an orgasm. Derek snaps at him and swaps their plates, insists Stiles would like salads if he actually gave them a try. Stiles doesn't finish the salad. Derek finishes the entire plate of pasta. In the gym? It's unusable content. Stiles is whining and bitching and gives up through an exercise because "fat guys don't run, Derek. It's a proven fact." and mostly there's a lot of hate sex in the locker room as Derek is grabbing Stiles' love handle and pulling him up against a wall, growling that he doesn't understand why he's being so difficult. It's like Stiles likes having all this excess weight making him waddle around. (Stiles insisting he doesn't waddle is cut off by a strangled moan and Derek running his teeth against Stiles inner thigh) For Stiles? Energetic sex like that is the most he's worked out in ages. Derek? Is getting barely any workout because so much of his time is dedicated to trying to get Stiles into shape. annnnnd then come the videos he owes Stiles. Where Stiles a few times has to poke Derek and remind him "Come on, what sort of bite was that?! A little bit of sugar and cream isn't going to hurt anyway." It's mostly to prove a point to Stiles. To get back at him for the pigtail pulling, stubborn complains in the gym. So Derek tries to beat Stiles at his own game, decide he's going to eat the entire damn thing. Eats the butter finger bar the same length and thickness as his forearm, and then somehow stumbles into his apartment with the most achingly full middle he's ever had and can't figure out why he's hard. So what starts as Derek showing Stiles he's going to give his 100%, so Stiles should do the same...ends up with Derek eating the food challenges like he's training to be a competitive eater. Challenges which Stiles goes out of his way to make bigger and bigger. The video views get higher and higher, enough that Derek doesn't feel so badly taking a break from his own content (mostly because he doesn't feel like going to the gym when he's still sluggish and bloated from the "Multi layer pies" video the day before.) Stiles knows his audience - and his new followers all want one thing- to watch the jock go from fit to fat.

[oldfangirl81]

Fic Idea Teen Wolf

Traveling Nurse AU

The Hale fire happened but with only one death (an elderly relative). Kate's crimes starting with Derek get revealed. She goes to prison. The Argent matriarch expelled her from the Argent line, using magic that would prevent any future kids of Kate's to be considered Agents ever. Gerrard is still angry.

Still Derek was guilt ridden and withdrew from everything. Immediately graduating high school (he refused to walk) he left moving to Alaska. He attended college and got a degree in graphic and web design.

Now closing in on thirty Derek hasn't been back to California in over ten years. He makes a living doing designs from his home. That pays the bills to allow him to write. He writes science fiction detective stories under a penname.

In this universe Claudia Stilinski was a nurse before she got sick. Stiles befriended the nurses taking care of his mom since he spent the most time there with his mom, since his Dad was always working. A butterfly flapped it's wings and Stiles doesn't dream of going into law enforcement but becoming a nurse.

Since kindergarten he has always had a first aid kit in his backpack. It adds an inhaler after becoming friends with Scott. He gets into a few fights because a boy should want to be a doctor not a nurse. Until one day Cora Hale steps in and stops the bully. She ends up making them an odd trio.

Gerrard, Alphas and Jennifer Blake still tries pulling things when they are in high school. Secrets are revealed. Scott still gets bit. With an intact Hale pack most of them make it to graduation alive.

After the last several years of chaos college felt like a dream for the most part. After Stiles gets his RN license he decides he wants to travel and not settle down in Beacon Hills yet. And for the next several years he works all over the US and just going back home for his Dad's birthday.

When Cora finds out Stiles is going to be in the same town as Derek she asks him to keep an out for her disaster bi buddy. (She might be trying to matchmake a little by dropping that information)

Derek finds Stiles Stilinski annoying and obnoxious but he also keeps hanging out with him. Stiles finds Derek grumpy and hot. Derek can turn into a full wolf, something that any wolf can do with a lot of mediation.

Stiles tried petting him the first time he saw the wolf form. Derek growled in annoyance.

Group chat with Stiles, Cora and Scott-

Stiles: look it's Derek

Scott: but he is a wolf

Stiles: Use your imagination, dude!

Cora: 😂 I still can't believe you tried to pet him.

[omgkatherine01]

Moonlight Beta: Chapter 1 - New Girl, New Werewolf

Series Masterlist

Prologue, Chapter 2

Pairing: Scott McCall x Fem!Liam Dunbar

Please comment, like and share

Lia had been at Beacon Hills High for barely a week when lacrosse tryouts were announced. Despite her mother's concerns about her anger management, both Samuel and Mason encouraged her to try out. Lacrosse had always been her outlet, the one place where her intensity was an asset rather than a liability.

"You're going to crush it," Mason told her that morning, squeezing her shoulder. "Just don't actually crush anyone, okay?"

She rolled her eyes but appreciated his support. "I'll try my best."

Before classes started, Lia changed quickly and headed to the field early to warm up. Coach Finstock hadn't arrived yet, so she took advantage of the empty field to practice her goalie skills, asking Garrett to fire shots at her. One after another, she blocked them with precision that came from years of practice with her stepdad.

Across the field, two juniors made their way toward practice, deep in conversation.

"Now what the hell are we even doing here anyway? We got like 117 million problems, and worrying about our status on the lacrosse team is not one of them," Stiles was saying, gesturing wildly with his lacrosse stick.

"Well, Coach threatened to demote everyone if we skip another practice," Scott replied, adjusting his gloves. His attention suddenly shifted as movement on the field caught his eye.

Scott, the teen alpha, stopped in his tracks, watching as a player in goal deflected shot after shot with remarkable precision. Their movements were fluid, anticipating each shot before it even left the stick.

"It is now," Scott muttered, his competitive instinct kicking in.

Stiles squinted at the field, his expression morphing from confusion to concern. "Who the hell is that?"

The goalie caught one final shot and then reached up, pulling off their helmet to reveal a cascade of brown hair and a triumphant smile. It was a freshman girl, one Stiles had noticed in the hallways earlier that week, Lia.

Garrett jogged over to her, clearly impressed by what he'd just witnessed. He whistled appreciatively and stepped closer with a genuine smile.

"Nice, Lia! You might just be our first ever freshman captain. And the first female captain. Finally a good change around here."

Lia's face lit up as she fist-bumped Garrett, her blue eyes bright with determination. "Thanks. That's pretty much the plan."

Scott and Stiles stood side by side, gawking at the newcomer who had just effortlessly outperformed most of their veteran team members.

"Okay," Stiles said, shifting uncomfortably. "Maybe we should just practice a little bit."

Coach Finstock arrived shortly after, clipboard in hand and whistle dangling from his neck. He wasted no time organizing drills, and to everyone's surprise, he put Lia in goal for the first-string practice. She continued to impress, blocking shots from even the team's best players, including Scott.

-------------------

After practice wrapped up, Lia headed to the girls' locker room alone. As the only female player besides Kira Yukimura, who wasn't at practice that day, she had the space to herself. She changed quickly into her jeans and tank top, then pulled out her phone to text her stepdad.

Killed it at practice! Coach let me play goalie with first string. Think I've got a real shot at making the team!

She smiled as Samuel immediately responded with a string of enthusiastic emojis and That's my girl! Can't wait to hear all about it!

Pride swelled in her chest. Not only had she kept her anger in check throughout the competitive practice, but she'd genuinely impressed her teammates and coach. After the disaster at her previous school, Lia had worried she might not get another chance. But Coach Finstock had given her a fair shot at tryouts, and she'd proven herself worthy.

Lia was about to respond to Samuel's text when she heard the locker room door swing open. Two sets of footsteps echoed against the tile floor. Looking up, she was surprised to see Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski standing there, still in their practice gear, looking at her with intensity that made her instinctively tense.

"Uh, wrong room, boys," she said, raising an eyebrow at the intrusion.

Stiles stepped forward, ignoring her comment entirely. "Hey, Lia. You want to explain what that was out there?"

Confusion spread across Lia's face as she glanced between the two juniors. "What do you mean? And, can't you get into trouble with being here in the girls' locker room?"

"That little display," Stiles continued, dismissing her question with a wave of his hand. "Your little circus act."

"Circus act?" Lia's brow furrowed deeper. "Like the Britney Spears song?"

"I meant that you caught every shot," Stiles clarified, his tone growing frustrated.

Lia frowned, not understanding why this was an issue. "I was in goal."

"Yeah, but nothing, not a single shot got passed you."

Lia could see the suspicion in Stiles' eyes. She'd seen that look before at her old school—people who couldn't believe she was actually that good, who thought there had to be some trick to it.

"Yeah, I was the goalie," she repeated slowly, as if explaining to a child. "You guys played this game before?"

Stiles grunted in frustration, turning to his friend and gesturing for him to take over.

Scott stepped forward, his expression more measured than Stiles'. "You're a freshman, right?"

Lia nodded. "Yeah."

"But you weren't here last semester," Stiles cut in.

Lia shook her head, still confused. She shrugged and looked between them. "I transferred from Devenford Prep."

Scott tilted his head slightly, focusing on the subtle rhythm of her heartbeat. There it was—a tiny skip, a telltale sign she wasn't being entirely truthful. His brow furrowed.

"You transferred?" he asked, watching her carefully.

Lia nodded, her expression neutral. "Yeah."

Stiles and Scott exchanged a knowing look, communicating silently in that way longtime friends do. Scott turned back to her, his voice gentle but firm.

"No, you got kicked out, didn't you?"

Lia tensed visibly, her right hand curling into a tight fist. Her jaw clenched as she gave a small scoff, realizing they somehow knew more than they should.

"Alright, look. Kicked out, transferred--what do you guys care? You aren't even supposed to be in here." She gestured around the girls' locker room. "I came here to play lacrosse. This team could use a few good players, right?"

Stiles quickly shook his head, stepping forward. "No, no. We don't need any more good players."

Scott studied her for a moment, his supernatural senses detecting nothing unusual beyond normal human anxiety and frustration. The tension in his shoulders eased as he realized she wasn't a supernatural threat, just a talented athlete with a complicated past. He smiled at the freshman.

"Actually, we could sort of use a couple."

Lia's face brightened at Scott's words, her defensive posture relaxing slightly as she returned his smile.

Stiles shot Scott an incredulous glare before turning his attention back to Lia, determined not to let the conversation derail.

"Okay, how'd you get this good? Have you always been this good? Or did it suddenly happen just once overnight?"

Lia frowned, crossing her arms defensively. The question struck a nerve, and she couldn't help but feel like she was being interrogated rather than complimented for her skills. Meanwhile, Scott's eyes grew wide as he observed her reaction, sensing her discomfort.

"Have you ever been out in the middle of the woods during the night of a full--" Stiles began, leaning forward with intensity.

"Stiles," Scott cut him off sharply, giving his best friend a warning look.

The two boys stared at each other in tense silence, having one of their wordless conversations. Scott's expression clearly said "back off," while Stiles' responded with frustrated defiance.

Lia watched this exchange with growing confusion and irritation. Finally, she broke the silence.

"I learned from my stepdad, alright?" she said, her voice firm but slightly defensive. She turned to look directly at Scott, her expression softening slightly. "He made team captain when he was a sophomore. Like you. And I want to make team captain like the two of you... just, you know, more female."

Scott's serious expression melted into a genuine chuckle, a warm smile spreading across his face. Something about her honesty and ambition resonated with him.

Lia smiled softly at Scott's reaction before turning to Stiles. Her gentle expression transformed into a confident smirk.

"And yeah, I guess I'm just that good."

Without waiting for their response, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and strode past them toward the exit. Both boys watched her leave – Stiles with obvious annoyance etched across his face, while Scott maintained his soft smile.

"She wasn't lying that time," Scott said quietly after the door closed behind her.

Stiles threw up his hands in exasperation. "So what? Just because she's telling the truth about learning lacrosse from her stepdad doesn't mean there isn't something else going on. You saw her out there, Scott. No normal freshman is that good."

Scott shook his head, still staring at the door. "I don't know. Some people are just naturally talented."

"Yeah, supernaturally talented," Stiles muttered. "Remember when you suddenly got 'naturally talented' overnight? I'm telling you, we need to keep an eye on her."

"Fine," Scott conceded, "but let's be subtle about it. If she's just a regular girl who's good at lacrosse, I don't want to freak her out."

As they left the locker room, Scott couldn't help but think about Lia's determined expression when she talked about becoming captain. It reminded him of himself before everything changed – before the bite. Just a kid with asthma and a dream of making first line.

Lia spotted Mason waiting by her locker, his face lighting up when he saw her approaching.

Garrett and Violet appeared moments later, flanking Mason with matching grins. Violet playfully bumped Lia's shoulder.

"Look at the new star," Violet said, nodding toward a group of students who were whispering and pointing in Lia's direction.

Lia chuckled and linked her arm with Mason and Violet, pulling them close as they started walking down the hallway.

"How was it?" Mason asked eagerly, his eyes wide with excitement.

"God, it was fun," Lia replied, unable to keep the smile off her face.

Garrett fell into step beside them, smirking. "Not to mention McCall's face when she blocked all his shots."

Lia chuckled again, remembering the shocked expression on Scott's face each time she'd intercepted his attempts to score. She leaned over to Violet, whispering in amusement. "Is it bad I think McCall is cute?"

Violet smirked and whispered back. "Nope, I looked too. Don't tell Garrett."

Lia and Violet chuckled and walked to their class first, with Mason and Garrett following behind them.

-------------------

Throughout the day, Lia found herself distracted, her mind constantly drifting back to lacrosse and the upcoming tryouts. By the time the final bell rang, she practically sprinted to the locker rooms.

She was surprised when Coach Finstock appeared at the boys' locker room door, beckoning her to follow him inside. Several players were already changing, but Coach didn't seem to care about the protocol breach.

"Listen up!" Coach announced as Lia high-fived a few of the guys who nodded respectfully at her. A few of them high-fived Lia as she walked by.

Coach cleared his throat loudly, commanding everyone's attention.

"Let me remind you it is an open try out today," he announced with fake enthusiasm. "All positions available. This is a rebuilding season people."

Lia leaned against one of the lockers with Garrett, watching as the rest of the team filed in. Coach continued his speech, gesturing wildly with his clipboard.

"Jackson's gone, Lahey's gone, Greenberg, the one guy I actually wanted gone, was held back... again." He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Get your asses on the field!"

As players scrambled to finish getting ready, Lia noticed Scott approaching Coach with a concerned expression. She put on her pads while straining to hear their conversation.

"Coach," Scott began hesitantly, "I'm still captain, right?"

Coach Finstock stared at Scott for a moment, his expression incredulous, before he repeated himself with exaggerated clarity.

"All positions are open."

Lia glanced over as Scott walked away, his shoulders slightly hunched, looking worried. A twinge of sympathy tugged at her chest—she knew what it meant to lose something important. But beneath that sympathy bubbled excitement. Captain. She actually had a shot at being captain.

Once everyone assembled on the field, Coach blew his whistle and ordered them to run laps. Lia took off, her legs pumping with practiced precision. She focused on her breathing, remembering all the training sessions with her stepdad. The burn in her muscles felt good, familiar. One by one, she passed the other players until she was leading the pack. As she crossed the finish line first, Coach's eyes widened.

"Amazing!" he shouted, genuinely impressed.

Lia tried not to smile too broadly as she jogged in place, keeping her muscles warm. Behind her, the rest of the team staggered across the finish line, many doubled over and gasping for air.

"Terrible! Horrifying! Pathetic! Unbelievably pathetic..." Coach's voice rose with each insult. He glanced around, clipboard in hand. "Is that everyone?"

Stiles stumbled past him, face flushed and dripping with sweat. He managed two more steps before collapsing dramatically onto the grass. Scott jogged over to help his friend up.

"She came in first," Stiles wheezed, pointing weakly at Lia.

Not wanting to appear idle, Lia dropped into perfect form push-ups, maintaining a steady rhythm as she felt Scott and Stiles watching her.

"She isn't human, I'm telling you," Stiles muttered, still trying to catch his breath. "What is she? Like a Were-Cheetah? Does it even exist, is that a thing?"

Scott shook his head, eyes still on Lia's perfect form. "I think she's just that good."

Stiles clutched his stomach suddenly. "I'm gonna puke, take me somewhere."

After everyone had recovered, Coach lined them up for shooting practice. Stiles was first, fumbling as he tried to scoop the ball into his net. The lacrosse ball bounced off the mesh and rolled away, prompting laughter from the team. Lia couldn't help but giggle at his frustrated expression. When he finally got the ball, his shot sailed wide, landing directly in the goalie's waiting stick.

More laughter erupted as Stiles trudged back, passing Lia on his way. She offered him a small, sympathetic smile, which he answered by puffing out his chest in a ridiculous show of bravado.

As Lia scooped up the ball effortlessly and prepared her stance, Stiles moved to the back. "Maybe she is only good at goalie and is totally useless everywhere else," he whispered from the back of the line to Scott, a hint of hope in his voice.

Scott just nodded silently, watching as Lia concentrated. She took a deep breath, pulled back her stick, and released the ball with perfect form. It sailed through the air and landed squarely in the net. The team erupted in cheers while Coach Finstock pumped his fist in the air.

"Yes!" Coach shouted enthusiastically.

Lia smiled, spinning her lacrosse stick between her hands with practiced ease.

"Or maybe she's just perfect at everything," Stiles glared, jealousy evident in his tone. "I hate this kid."

"You don't have to hate her," Scott replied quietly, defending the blue-eyed girl. "The team needs new players."

Stiles glanced at his friend incredulously. Across the field, Lia and Garrett exchanged a high-five, their faces bright with excitement.

"What about a new team Captain?" Stiles questioned pointedly.

Scott's eyes widened in shock as the implication hit him. Stiles was right – Lia could potentially take his position as team Captain. The thought hadn't occurred to him until now, and it settled uncomfortably in his stomach.

It was Scott's turn next. He stepped forward, trying to shake off his sudden anxiety. He scooped up the ball into his net and took aim. With a grunt of effort, he released his shot, but it went too far right, hitting the metal pole of the goal with a loud clang before bouncing away uselessly. The team burst into laughter while Stiles bit his lip nervously. Scott stood there, looking confused at his own poor performance.

"Nice, McCall," Garrett called out sarcastically, prompting more laughter.

"Hey, Garrett, shut up," Stiles snapped back defensively.

As practice continued, a pattern emerged. Lia continued to make perfect shots that sailed effortlessly into the goal, while Scott's attempts went everywhere but where they were supposed to go – too far left, too far right, or sailing over the crossbar. After each of Scott's misses, Lia would offer an encouraging "Better luck next time" with a genuinely nice smile, which only seemed to frustrate Scott more as he ignored her completely.

Finally, after another embarrassing miss, Scott stormed back to where Stiles was standing. He threw his gloves down angrily and ran a hand through his hair. Stiles raised his arms in a 'what are you doing?' gesture.

"Dude, what is going on with you?" Stiles asked, anger evident in his voice.

Scott looked down at his stick, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't know I'm having a really off day."

"Off day?" Stiles scoffed, gesturing wildly toward the field. "You were dying out there. I feel actual pain watching you."

Scott frowned, defensive. "I didn't see you making any shots."

"Yeah, that's because I am terrible, though, Scott," Stiles whispered, leaning closer. "You... You are the Alpha."

"Not on the field," Scott insisted, shaking his head firmly. "I'm human on the field."

Stiles threw his hands up in exasperation. "Well, human you is kind of sucking at the moment. So do you think there is any way you could use just a little tiny wolf power?"

Scott sighed, shaking his head. "It's cheating."

"I know it is," Stiles admitted, his voice taking on a pleading tone. "I just hate seeing this little freshman girl come in and steal all your glory after you worked your tushie off. I hate it."

"She's not gonna steal all the glory," Scott muttered.

Stiles scoffed as the team erupted in cheers. Lia had just scored another perfect goal, the ball sailing past the goalie with pinpoint accuracy. She pumped her fist in the air as Garrett and a few others rushed to congratulate her.

"Yes! Hot damn! Yeah!" Coach Finstock shouted, clearly impressed by the freshman's performance.

Scott watched, jaw clenched, as his teammates celebrated around Lia. His eyes flashed red momentarily, the wolf within him responding to the competitive threat. He quickly blinked it away before anyone could notice, but not before Stiles caught the crimson gleam.

Coach blew his whistle sharply, gathering everyone's attention. "McCall and Stilinski," he barked, pointing toward the goal. "Grab a long stick. You're covering the goal for two-on-ones. Let's go! Line it up!"

Scott and Stiles jogged to their positions, grabbing the defensive sticks. As they got into formation, Stiles leaned toward Scott, speaking in a hushed tone.

"We still don't know if she's a werewolf, too. And if she is, she'd just be cheating. And we'd just be cheating the cheater."

"But she's not," Scott replied firmly, watching Lia as she chatted animatedly with a group of guys nearby. Her laughter carried across the field. "I'd know. I'd be able to catch her scent or something."

"Maybe you need to get closer," Stiles suggested, eyebrows raised hopefully. His expression made it clear he was desperately wishing the girl was supernatural so he wouldn't feel so inadequate.

Lia got in line and put her helmet on, adjusting the straps with nervous fingers. The weight of everyone's expectations felt heavier than her gear. Her earlier confidence wavered as she watched Scott and Stiles position themselves defensively, their stances more determined than before.

Scott glanced at Stiles, a new resolve hardening his features. "I think I'm about to get my chance," he muttered, gripping his stick tighter.

Scott and Stiles exchanged a nod, crouching into ready positions. Garrett stepped forward first, scooping up the ball and charging toward them. He spun around, attempting to dodge past, but Scott was faster. His stick connected with Garrett's, sending the blonde boy tumbling to the ground. The ball rolled free as Garrett dropped his stick.

The small gathering of students on the bleachers erupted into applause. Coach Finstock jumped up, punching the air enthusiastically.

"That's my boy!" Coach shouted, pointing proudly at Scott and Stiles. "Those two are like sons to me!"

Scott and Stiles exchanged grins, their confidence visibly growing. As the next player prepared to take his turn, Lia noticed the boy's nervousness. She clapped him supportively on the back.

"You got this," she whispered encouragingly.

The boy charged forward, but Scott and Stiles were ready. They converged on him simultaneously, knocking him down with practiced coordination. More cheers rose from the crowd as Scott and Stiles celebrated, accidentally bumping heads in their excitement. Stiles winced, rubbing his forehead.

Another player tried his luck and met the same fate, sprawling onto the grass as Scott and Stiles dominated the drill.

"That's how you do it!" Coach bellowed, pacing along the sideline. "That's how it's done!"

Lia felt her stomach tighten with nerves as her turn approached. She watched Scott and Stiles perform another chest bump that sent Stiles falling backward from the force. Scott reached to help him, but Stiles bounced back up with surprising agility.

Taking a deep breath, Lia stepped up, swinging her stick rhythmically to calm herself. She'd analyze their patterns – they always attacked head-on, relying on their size and strength. Her smaller frame might be an advantage if she used it right.

Scott and Stiles exchanged uncertain glances as Lia positioned herself. Coach's whistle pierced the air, and Lia darted forward, cradling the ball. Instead of charging directly at them, she feinted left, then spun right with lightning speed. Both boys lunged, but she was already past them, swinging her stick around in a fluid motion to send the ball sailing into the goal.

"Yes," she breathed as cheers erupted from the bleachers.

"That was luck!" a voice called out from the crowd. Everyone on the field looked over to see Malia sitting with the small crowd on the bleachers. She stood up, clearly not understanding how it worked, her face earnest as she pointed at Lia.

Stiles' eyes widened in horror. "Oh no Malia, don't get involved," he whispered, but it was too late.

"Do-over!" Malia called out, her voice carrying across the field.

Lia's eyes grew wide with disbelief. She barely got past Scott and Stiles last time—it had taken everything she had. Coach wouldn't make her do it again, would he? She glanced nervously between Coach and the girl in the stands.

Coach Finstock turned toward Malia, an amused expression on his face. "Sweetheart, there are no do-overs. This is a practice." He was about to turn away and continue with the drill when Malia's voice rang out again.

"Ten bucks on Scott and Stiles."

This made Coach pause, his interest visibly piqued as he spun back around. His eyebrows shot up, his interest immediately piqued. He pointed at Malia with newfound respect.

"I'll take that action." He spun around, blowing his whistle sharply. "Hey! Get back in there, Lia!"

Apparently he would, Lia thought dismally as she trudged back to the front of the line. Her moment of glory had been short-lived, and now she had to face Scott and Stiles again—who clearly weren't happy about being bested by a freshman.

Garrett stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You got this, Lia," he said quietly before backing away.

Lia nodded lightly and took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves as Scott and Stiles got into position. Something had changed in Scott's demeanor—his stance was more aggressive, his eyes more focused. He seemed angrier now, his jaw clenched tight beneath his helmet.

Coach blew the whistle, and they were off. Scott growled quietly as they started to run, the sound barely audible to anyone but himself. Lia moved with determination, managing to dodge past Stiles with a quick feint, but Scott was right there waiting. He hit her harder than he had any of the others, using more strength than necessary as he flipped her over his shoulder.

Lia landed hard on her back and feet. There was a loud snap, followed immediately by her cry of pain that echoed across the field. A collective "Ohh!" rose from the spectators as the whistle fell from Coach's mouth in shock.

Scott yanked his helmet off immediately, his face pale with horror as the realization of what he'd done crashed over him. Stiles followed suit, eyes wide with shock as they both stared at Lia writhing on the ground.

The wolf inside Scott recoiled at the sound, ashamed of hurting someone so badly. He'd let his competitiveness take over, used strength no human should possess. The regret was instant and overwhelming.

"Oh god," Stiles whispered beside him, frozen in place.

The rest of the team was already rushing toward Lia, their practice forgotten. Coach Finstock sprinted across the field faster than anyone had ever seen him move, waving his arms frantically.

"Don't move! Don't touch her!" Coach bellowed, his face flushed with panic. "Everyone back up!"

The team hesitated, forming a loose circle around Lia as Garrett pushed through. He knelt beside her, his usual cockiness replaced with genuine concern as he carefully helped remove her helmet.

"Easy," he murmured, supporting her head.

Lia's face contorted as she shifted her left leg, a hiss of pain escaping through clenched teeth. But just as quickly, her expression smoothed out, a forced smile replacing the grimace.

"I'm okay, Coach. I'm good," she insisted, though her voice wavered slightly.

Scott heard the telltale skip in her heartbeat and felt sick. He'd done this. He'd hurt her because he couldn't control his wolf, because he'd been threatened by a freshman who was just trying to prove herself.

"She's lying," he whispered to Stiles, too quietly for anyone else to hear.

With cautious steps, Scott approached Lia. "Let us help you," he offered, guilt saturating every word.

Stiles moved forward too, and together they gently lifted Lia to her feet, positioning themselves on either side of her. She winced as her weight settled, leaning heavily against them.

"I think we better get her to the nurse," Stiles announced, glancing at Coach.

Coach nodded grimly, waving them off the field. "The rest of you, back to drills! Nothing to see here!"

As they helped Lia limp toward the school building, Scott could feel her trembling against him.

The school nurse took one look at Lia's swollen ankle and shook her head. "This is beyond what I can handle here. She needs an X-ray and possibly a cast." She turned to Scott and Stiles with a stern expression. "One of you needs to drive her to Beacon Hills Memorial. Now."

"I'll drive," Stiles offered immediately, jingling his keys. "My Jeep's right outside."

Scott nodded, avoiding Lia's eyes as they helped her back outside. The guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders as they carefully maneuvered her into the passenger seat of Stiles' battered Jeep. Scott climbed into the back, leaning forward between the seats as Stiles started the engine.

"Beacon Hills Hospital is just ten minutes away," Stiles said, pulling out of the school parking lot. "How bad is it? Scale of one to ten?"

Lia forced a smile, though her knuckles were white as she gripped the door handle. "One. Barely hurts."

Scott caught Stiles' eye in the rearview mirror and shook his head slightly. He could hear Lia's elevated heartbeat, smell the acrid scent of pain radiating from her.

"You don't have to downplay it," Scott said softly. "We know it hurts."

"I'm fine," Lia insisted stubbornly.

Scott remained quiet for the rest of the drive, lost in thoughts of regret. When they arrived, he and Stiles carefully helped Lia out of the Jeep. She tried to put weight on her injured leg and immediately buckled.

"Whoa, easy," Stiles said, letting her use him as a crutch. "Scott, go check us in."

Scott nodded and hurried ahead through the automatic doors, approaching the front desk. As he was explaining the situation to the receptionist, a familiar voice called his name.

"Scott?"

He turned to see his mother, Melissa McCall, clipboard in hand and confusion on her face.

"Uh, hi Mom," Scott said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Stiles entered with Lia, waving his free hand in greeting while supporting the grimacing freshman.

Melissa's nurse instincts immediately kicked in. She grabbed a wheelchair from nearby and wheeled it over. "What happened?"

"Lacrosse accident," Scott mumbled, unable to meet his mother's eyes.

"My fault," Lia added quickly. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

Melissa helped Lia into the wheelchair, her experienced hands gentle as she positioned the injured leg. "Don't worry, Lia. We'll take good care of you."

Melissa squeezed Lia's shoulder reassuringly. "Let's get you to X-ray," she said, her voice calm and professional despite the worried glance she cast at her son. She turned the wheelchair away from the boys and started down the corridor.

"I'll come find you after," Scott called after them, his voice tight with remorse.

Stiles turned to face Scott, absentmindedly playing with his keys. "I got to get going. I promised Malia I'd help her study."

Scott nodded, still feeling horribly guilty. "Sure."

Stiles noticed his expression. "Hey, I don't need to say that wasn't your fault, right?"

Scott shrugged lightly. "I don't know."

Stiles placed a hand on his shoulder. "Scott, if you had used any wolf power that kid wouldn't be limping, she'd be crawling, back to the other half of her body."

Scott continued to stare down the hallway. "If I hadn't been so worried about being Captain she wouldn't be hurt either."

"It's okay to want something for yourself once in a while. Team Captain, Alpha werewolf. You're still only human."

Scott turned and watched his best friend walk away. He knew Stiles was trying to help but that was the thing, Scott wasn't a human anymore. He was a werewolf. Lia, she wasn't a werewolf. She was human.

-------------------

Scott paced nervously in the hospital corridor, running his hand through his hair for what must have been the hundredth time. He couldn't shake the image of Lia's face contorted in pain. The guilt was eating him alive.

When his mother passed by with a chart, he stopped her. "Mom, how is she?"

Melissa gave him a knowing look. "Dr. Geyer is with her now."

"Dr. Geyer?" Scott's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Her stepfather," Melissa explained, her voice lowering. "He works here in the ER. He wasn't too happy when he heard what happened."

Scott's stomach dropped. "I need to apologize to her."

"I put her in room 108," Melissa said, squeezing his shoulder gently. "But maybe give them a minute."

Scott nodded and made his way down the hall. As he approached Room 108, he slowed his pace, hearing voices from inside. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but his werewolf hearing picked up the conversation automatically.

Inside the hospital room, Dr. Samuel Geyer gently examined Lia's swollen ankle, his professional demeanor softened by paternal concern. Lia was laying on the hospital bed, her lacrosse jersey replaced with a white t-shirt and she was wearing a blue pants, her face pale but composed.

When Lia winced at her father's touch, Scott flinched too, leaning his forehead against the wall beside the door.

"It's broken, isn't it?" Lia's voice was barely above a whisper, thick with sadness.

There was a moment of silence, then a soft sigh from Dr. Geyer. "It's definitely going to need an X-ray. The swelling is significant."

"It's all my fault," Lia said softly.

Scott's heart clenched. No, it was his fault. He'd let his competitive nature and wolf strength get the better of him. He should be the one in that room apologizing, not listening to her blame herself.

"You want to tell me what happened?" Dr. Geyer asked, his tone gentle yet concerned.

Scott held his breath, wondering how Lia would describe the incident. Would she blame him? She'd have every right to.

Lia stared down at her swollen ankle, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her shirt. "I was stupid," she admitted quietly.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, carefully adjusting the ice pack on her ankle.

"I went up against two juniors, one of them was the team captain. I thought if I could just prove that I was just as good as them... that I might not feel like I don't belong." She kept her eyes fixed on her injury, too embarrassed to meet her stepfather's gaze.

Sam smiled softly. "Remember what we always say, play smart not hard." He raised an eyebrow knowingly. "And I think it's the first time you were trying to impress a boy."

Scott's eyes widened slightly as he continued to listen from outside the door, caught off guard by Dr. Geyer's words.

Lia's cheeks flushed pink. "I wasn't trying to impress the team captain, I was just..." she sighed and looked at Sam sadly. "Are you mad at me?"

The sadness and fear in Lia's voice made Scott feel even worse. Sam shook his head.

"No. Of course not. Your Mom might be mad at me for getting you into Lacrosse, but maybe we can wait for the x-ray before we panic."

Lia looked at him in panic. "We can't tell her, Dad. She never liked me playing Lacrosse, she said it's not for girls. If she finds out about this, she will make me quit." She looked at her leg sadly. "On second thought if it's broken, I won't be able to play anyways will I?"

Sam smiled reassuringly. "Trust me I have more of a reason to panic than you. It's not over yet. Wait for the x-ray."

Lia nodded slightly and Sam kissed the top of her head before walking out of the room. Scott turned and lowered his head as Sam walked out of the room and past him. Scott let out a sigh and shook his head, disappointed with himself.

After Dr. Geyer disappeared down the hallway, Scott gathered his courage and knocked softly on the door frame. Lia looked up, surprise flickering across her face when she saw him standing there.

"Hey," he said awkwardly. "Can I come in?"

Lia nodded, quickly wiping away a stray tear that had escaped. "Sure."

Scott walked in slowly, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The guilt that had been gnawing at him since the field now threatened to overwhelm him completely. He stopped at the foot of her bed, unable to look directly at her injured ankle.

"I came to apologize," he said finally, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "What happened on the field was my fault. I was playing too aggressively."

Lia studied Scott's face for a moment, his guilt clearly written in the furrow of his brow and the slump of his shoulders. Instead of looking angry, she smiled a little, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Not a good impression back there huh?" she joked weakly.

Scott looked startled for a second before quickly shaking his head, relieved she wasn't furious with him.

"No. No, no, you definitely impressed me and everyone else on the field, that--that's for sure," he insisted earnestly. "I was the one who got overreacting."

Lia's expression softened. "Nice hits, by the way," she said quietly, a hint of admiration in her voice despite her injury.

Scott approached the bed, his voice dropping to match her gentle tone. "Thanks. Uh, look, I--"

"Don't worry about it, Scott," Lia interrupted, not wanting him to apologize again. "Thanks for being here. I'll be okay."

Scott nodded slightly, his gaze drifting down to her swollen ankle. Concern flickered across his face. "Is it still hurts?"

Lia shook her head firmly. "No. It doesn't."

Scott could hear the slight uptick in her heartbeat—she was lying again, not wanting him to worry. He hesitated for a second before gently placing his hand over hers. The contact was warm, reassuring.

"Hey, uh, that Doc that came out--" he began cautiously.

Lia glanced down at his hand on hers in surprise before quickly looking back up at his face.

"I couldn't help but listen in a bit," Scott continued. "Was that your--"

"That's my step father, yeah," she confirmed.

As she spoke, Scott focused on drawing her pain away. Black veins slowly crawled up his arm, absorbing the agony from her injured ankle. He took a deep breath, feeling the dull throb transfer into his own body, and nodded before gently releasing her hand.

He sat down in the chair beside her bed, trying to appear casual despite the lingering ache he'd taken from her. Lia looked down at her ankle with a confused frown, experimentally moving it a little.

"Huh," she murmured, clearly surprised by the sudden absence of pain.

"What is it?" Scott asked, feigning confusion while carefully monitoring her reaction.

Lia looked up at him and shook her head, a soft smile playing at her lips. "Nothing."

Scott couldn't help but smile softly back at her. Something about this girl stirred a protective instinct in him that felt different, stronger somehow. Not even with Allison had he felt such an immediate, powerful urge to shield someone from harm.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He took it out and saw it was Lydia. He looked at Lia.

"Hey, uh, I got to answer this, but then I will come back, want something to drink? Eat?" Scott asked, already standing from his chair.

Lia smiled softly and shook her head. "No, thank you."

Scott nodded and stood up. He glanced at the girl with a small smile as he answered the phone and walked out. Lia looked to the door even after Scott left and smiled lightly, touching the spot on her hand where his fingers had been. The pain in her ankle had mysteriously vanished at his touch, and she couldn't explain why.

-------------------

After a little while, Lia was waiting in her room alone when she heard some loud and scary noises coming from the hallway. She frowned and slowly got out of her bed, wincing slightly as she tested her weight on her injured ankle. The pain was returning, but it wasn't nearly as bad as before.

As she limped out of the room, she noticed the hallways were suspiciously empty. No nurses, no doctors, not even patients wandering around.

"Anyone hear that?" she called out, her voice echoing through the deserted corridor.

As she looked around, she saw a young man covered in blood walking towards her with a malicious expression. She gasped in shock and backed away, her heart hammering in her chest. His eyes were wild, inhuman, and his mouth... were those fangs?

The bloodied young man lunged at her, and Lia screamed, turning to run despite her injury. Pain shot through her ankle as she fled down the corridor, desperately looking for help or a place to hide. The stranger was faster, grabbing her arm and dragging her toward the stairwell.

"Let me go!" she cried, struggling against his grip as he pulled her up the stairs.

"Shut up!" he hissed, his voice guttural and strange. "I'm hungry. So hungry."

Terror gripped Lia as they emerged onto the hospital roof. The night air was cold against her skin as the stranger dragged her toward the edge of the building.

Meanwhile, Scott heard screams echoing through the hospital after he rushed to help his mother after they encountered the Wendigo. He immediately raced toward the sound, following the scent of fear and blood. His face transformed as he ran, bones shifting beneath his skin, fangs elongating, and his eyes glowing a bright, dangerous red.

He burst through the door to the roof to find the blood-covered young man holding Lia dangerously close to the edge of the building.

"Get back!" the young man yelled at Scott, tightening his grip on Lia, who looked at Scott with wide, terrified eyes.

Scott's heart raced at the sight of her in danger. He took a cautious step forward, hands raised non-threatened way.

"Scott," Lia whispered, recognition flickering in her terrified eyes despite the monstrous transformation of his face.

Scott shifted his attention back to the blood-covered man holding Lia hostage. He could smell the wrongness emanating from him—not werewolf, something else entirely.

"You don't need to do this," Scott said, his voice a low growl as he took another cautious step forward. "Whatever it is, whatever you are, I can help you."

The young man's eyes flashed an unnatural white as he snarled, "No, you can't!"

Scott's eyes stayed on Lia for a moment, beyond scared that Sean would end up killing her. Her face was pale with terror, but there was something else there too—a stubborn determination that reminded Scott of himself.

"Let me help you," Scott tried again, his voice softer, more human despite his transformed state.

Sean's grip on Lia tightened, his fingers digging into her arms. "Wendigos don't need help," he hissed, his voice distorted by hunger and rage. "We need food."

In one swift motion, Sean turned Lia around, his jaws opening unnaturally wide to reveal rows of needle-like teeth. Lia screamed as he lunged toward her neck. Scott roared and leapt forward, but he was too late. The wendigo shoved Lia off the edge of the roof with brutal force.

Her scream pierced the night air as she disappeared over the edge. Scott's heart stopped—but the scream cut off abruptly. Racing to the edge, he saw Lia hanging by her fingertips, her knuckles white with strain as she clung desperately to the ledge.

Scott pushed the wendigo away with all his strength, sending him stumbling backward. He dropped to his stomach, reaching down to grab Lia's arm. But before he could pull her up, Sean was on him, yanking Scott's arms behind his back with inhuman strength.

Lia looked up at Scott, her blue eyes wide with terror. "Scott!" she cried, her voice breaking. "I can't hold on!"

Her fingers began to slip, one by one losing their grip on the cold concrete. Scott struggled against Sean's hold, desperation clawing at his chest. There was only one way to save her—one terrible, irreversible way.

With a deafening roar that echoed across the hospital grounds, Scott lunged forward. His fangs sank deep into Lia's arm, piercing skin and drawing blood. He bit down hard, ensuring the bite would take, and she screamed in pain.

A sudden wet, slicing sound cut through the air, followed by a choked gasp. Sean's grip on Scott's arms abruptly released. Scott turned to see the wendigo stumbling backward, a blade protruding from his chest. Sean collapsed, dead before he hit the roof.

With a final surge of strength, Scott let go of Lia's arm with his teeth and quickly grabbed her arms with his hands. He pulled her up over the ledge in one fluid motion, setting her safely on the roof. His attention immediately darted to Sean's lifeless body before shifting toward the door where he saw a figure standing motionless in the shadows.

The Mute.

The Mute raised his finger to where his mouth should have been in a universal gesture of silence, then turned and disappeared through the doorway without a sound.

Lia's gasping and groaning in pain brought Scott's attention back to her. She was holding her now bleeding, bitten arm, looking up at Scott in confusion and shock. Her blue eyes were wide with fear and disbelief as she stared at his transformed face.

Scott felt the shift receding, his features returning to normal as he met her gaze. He let out a shaky breath, the realization of what he'd done hitting him with full force.

He bit her.

She was now his Beta.

[domesticated-feral]

small town AU where:

Scott and Melissa moved there after losing the house during the divorce and she's working at the rural clinic while he's working under Dr. Deaton.

Stiles is still the kid of a sheriff and the sheriff's department takes care of beacon hills as well as the surrounding other small towns in the county :)

Four words, Livestock Veterinarian Alan Deaton! Four more bonus words Livestock Veterinary Assistant Scott!!! A bunch of more words Deaton and Scott with cute little baby farm animals!!!!!!!!

(if i truly had the energy to do so, i would love to continue writing my livestock vet Scott + farmhand Stiles fic, but that's a different AU)

Derek Hale is a city kid turned farmhand on an old man's farm (the old man in question is Elias, Stiles' grandfather)(and to the question why is Stiles or his father working at the farm is because 1. Elias lets his son work as a sheriff because whatever and 2. Stiles is a walking disaster no way is he letting that boy in charge of farm chores nuh uh not even on a lazy almost fall summer day where there's not much than the usual morning feeding also 3. Derek was only hired after Elias accepted that he was not as young and capable as he used to be and Noah and Stiles put themselves in charge of finding a farmhand)(Derek was the only one to send in a reply to their job ad) and the farm primarily raises sheep for meat and wool but I'd like to think that after Derek started working there a few years back he'd regularly add in new animals every summer or so. Sometimes he'd raise poultry, sometimes it's a small drove of pigs, sometimes it's not even animals but just a crop of pumpkins and squash and tomatoes and cucumbers!!

Derek loves the sheep. He's a shepherd through and through.

Jackson is not a whittemore but a miller, except his parents just died a bit later into his life and he lives with the whittemores on their large scale hay farm where there's an added bonus (to me)! h o r s e s !!!!

(all of this is just a way for me to write my fav characters interacting with my longest running obsession of all time, horses)

Lydia's mother owns the town's bistro/bar, her father owns the lodge built next to it. It used to be a whole business but it split with the divorce but there's still the whole B&B package deal to this day as it's wayyyyy too popular to risk losing business by stopping it.

Allison moved there pretty recently and the guns business her family owns fits in pretty well with the need for safety of the farmer and their livestock from predators and also for the wild game hunters in the late summer through fall hunting season.

Scott and Lydia bonding over being two kids from a divorced family. Scott and Lydia bonding over having pet dogs (Roxy is alive and Prada and her are absolute besties). Scott and Lydia being partners in science projects. Scott and Lydia spending wayy too long staring into each others eyes than how much friends would. Scott and Lydia realizing they want to be more than friends.

Stiles spouting off cool animal facts that Scott 100% already knew but acts like he didn't because both of them are stupidly in love with each other.

Scott meeting Derek when on the job. He can't help but crush over Derek and his enthusiasm over regenerative agricultural practices.

Jackson trying to impress Scott and Stiles by trotting up and down the main street on his horse. (I live laugh love by my Scott/Stiles/Jackson agenda) He also gets his dad to bring his horse over to school so he can just ride on it back home, in hopes of impressing Scott and Stiles but Scott is too invested in Stiles animal facts that they only way Jackson really has a chance was when Scott came over with Deaton for an emergency check up on a rogue cow on their property that was limping bad. Jackson straight up embarasses himself because he's a loser :P but Scott finds the attempt endearing and asks if he'd want to hang out with him and Stiles. It's the beginning of a slippery slope of 'Oh. Oh.' realizations for the three of them.

Scott and Allison meeting each other at the bistro and it starts a blossoming relationship that tugs at the heartstrings. It's cute little notes during class and hanging out at the bistro over hot chocolate even on hot days and going over to each others house to watch TV to cuddle under the same blanket and quick glances at each other and it's so goshdarn cute.

BASICALLY, SCOTT/EVERYONE because I can't choose which ship to go with this au because Scott DESERVES everyone and everyones ALSO DESERVES Scott :D

[stylinskies]

— who: stiles and lydia // @girlwaiiled — where: lydia and allison’s apartment — when: a few weeks before allison comes home

“Where the hell are you?” Stiles called over his shoulder, letting the chicken sizzle in the pan in front of him. He wasn’t in his own kitchen, instead, holding court over the much better looking stovetop in Lydia Martin’s apartment. Stiles invited himself into Lydia’s life in a more permanent way a few months ago, groveling for weeks after the parking lot disaster — which was not his fault, thank you! — and finally filling Lydia in on the world that she was dragged into by Peter after she witnessed Jackson go from lizard man to werewolf. She knew everything now, and with her best friend and his best friend in this weird romantic limbo, he gravitated toward the strawberry blonde.  When Allison disappeared to France for the summer, it was almost like by default, he and Lydia would hang out. They lived close enough that getting coffee on a Saturday morning, or grabbing takeout and studying — case files for him, classwork for her — together felt almost logical. Like they should’ve been doing this the whole time. A thought he had a lot but never said out loud; he always knew that they’d work whether that be friends or something more. Which is why, when he was staying late at the office one night and scrolling through Instagram Stories, and he saw that she was showing off her girl dinner of microwave popcorn, he texted her immediately. That’s not fucking food — I’m cooking for you this weekend.  However, he probably should’ve been a bit more specific. Cooking with you would’ve been better, since Lydia seemed to think she didn’t have to help. “Your kitchen isn’t set up right,” Stiles groaned, opening another cabinet in hopes of finding a cutting board. “Get out here!” The scrabbling of paws preceded the sound of Lydia entering the room and as he turned around to look at her, he tried to stop himself from staring. She looked relaxed and comfortable here, and Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful than that. You’re just friends. He reminded himself internally, as he busied himself with pulling ingredients out of the reusable grocery bags on the counter. Just. Friends. “Amazing, you’re here. You get to chop the vegetables.” He said with a grin, thrusting a floret of broccoli at her like a bouquet of flowers.

[galaxystiel]

put up your hands (say i don’t wanna be in love) 

Written for @sterekweekly for the prompt ‘midnight’.

Summary: Stiles had even made dessert, a (slightly lopsided) coconut rum cake, knowing Derek had a sweet tooth he would never admit to. A little more effort than Stiles would normally go to, but he’d figured if he couldn’t push the boat out for their anniversary, then when could he? Teen | 2.3k

[Read on AO3]

--

Stiles counted along with the clock, the second hand ticking ever closer to twelve. Five, four, three, two…

Midnight.

Dinner had gone cold hours ago, the remains of his mom’s lasagna a congealed mess in the dish at the centre of their table. Small, battery-operated tea lights that were barely aglow now. Pinpricks of light, like little fireflies surrounding a failed disaster of a dinner date. While Derek had never said anything about a disdain for open flames indoors, Stiles had thought it was better safe than sorry, and this was a nice compromise. Romantic atmosphere without the fire hazard or a mess of molten wax.

He’d even made dessert, a (slightly lopsided) coconut rum cake, knowing Derek had a sweet tooth he would never admit to. A little more effort than Stiles would normally go to, but he’d figured if he couldn’t push the boat out for their anniversary, then when could he?

But Derek hadn’t come home at all.

Stiles finally dragged his eyes away from the clock and let his shoulders slump. He wasn’t angry. It wasn’t fair to blame Derek for being busy at work. It’s not like Stiles had told him that he was going to try and do something special. Although Derek had promised he’d be home for dinner.

It wasn’t a lie, Stiles told himself. Derek had obviously intended to come home on time. Something must have just come up. Something so clearly important that meant he couldn’t even call. Right? Right.

He wasn’t angry. He was just tired and a little bit humiliated. Clearly, he’d put a little more—not value, that wasn’t the right word, he knew Derek valued him—sentiment, yeah, behind their anniversary than was reciprocated. Which was, not fine, not even expected but it was… yeah. It was what it was.

Something ached deep in Stiles’ chest and the chair scraped back against the floor as he scooped up all of the tea lights in hands that were totally not shaking, fingers that were absolutely, completely steady as he found their off switches. He tossed them in the trash can and then, upon thinking about Derek potentially finding them, crumpled a few paper towels and stuffed them on top.

Dessert was still in the fridge and the lasagna joined it, carefully wrapped in foil. No point in letting it go to waste, maybe Derek could take it to the station tomorrow and share it with the Sheriff. It wasn’t the healthiest of meals, but hey, his dad was allowed a cheat day every now and then, particularly when his son was suffering from a broken heart.

“Okay, enough,” Stiles muttered, waggling his fingers in front of his face. Broken heart, seriously? “You’re being pathetic, Stiles. It’s just freakin’ dinner. Derek loves you the other three hundred sixty four days of the year. There shouldn’t be anything important about this one.”

Except, there kinda was? This marked a year to the day they’d first admitted how great they could be together, and put their absolute trust in each other as their relationship had taken the next step. Stiles had just wanted to commemorate that. Even just seeing Derek for more than the ten minutes they’d overlapped at breakfast, before Derek’s shift started. He refused to feel bad that he wanted a little more than that, just for today.

Weariness took over, and Stiles abandoned his cleaning up of the kitchen in favour of making his way to the bed he and Derek had shared for six months now. He stopped abruptly in the doorway and swayed, looking at the rumpled sheets and feeling his lip quiver. Suddenly, the thought of spending the night in their bed alone seemed like the most awful thing he could imagine. A shaky exhale left his lips, and then Stiles turned abruptly on his heel, bounding back down the stairs and snatching his keys from the sea glass bowl near the front door.

Roscoe seemed to know he wasn’t in the mood for her games tonight, engine roaring to life at the simple flick of his wrist. He drove, trying to force the buzzing thoughts in his head to quieten down as he followed the trail of street lamps. Even under their glow, the world looked awash with grey. Colourless, lifeless, numb.

Stiles kind of knew the feeling.

He didn’t really have a destination in mind, but when he found himself idling outside of his childhood home, he supposed he’d probably known where he was heading the whole time. The sight of the cruiser was both welcome and unwelcome, and Stiles rested his head against the steering wheel, taking a deep breath.

When he let himself in with a key he barely used anymore, he was greeted with the sight of his dad halfway out of the living room, summoned by the sound of the door.

“Stiles? It’s almost one in the morning, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Dad,” Stiles choked, and then he was falling forward into strong arms, and tears were stinging his eyes but he wouldn’t let them fall, he wouldn’t cry. Not over this. He inhaled, long fingers grasping the back of his dad’s shirt, holding him tightly.

Distantly, Stiles registered that if his dad was still in uniform, he couldn’t have been home long. His theory had been right. Something had cropped up on duty that kept both his dad and Derek later than planned. Usually, he’d be bugging one of them to find out what happened, but right now Stiles didn’t care. Because he realized that if his dad was home, Derek was probably on his way too, and would discover Stiles’ absence at any moment.

“Can I just stay here tonight? Please?” He hated how soft and pleading his voice came out. Hated that he couldn’t handle this like an adult and face his problems head on.

But his dad held him just that little bit tighter and Stiles could have wept with relief.

“Of course you can, son, you never have to ask. Didn’t take your key, did I? The bed’s always made up for you.” He pulled back and his face went through three different expressions of reluctance before he asked, “You break up with Derek?”

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat, and the words came out thickly. “No.” He shook his head. “No, of course not. I just—can we not do this now, dad? Can’t it be enough that I’m mad at him right now and I want to stay here tonight?”

“Of course it can. Go on, get some sleep, kid.”

Stiles mumbled something that was both thanks and a goodnight and trudged his way up the stairs. The sheets didn’t smell right, now he’d gotten used to the unscented fabric softener that Derek preferred, and they were a little musty from disuse. That, together with the rampant emotions thrumming in every part of his chest, suggested that sleep would be a long time coming.

But almost as soon as Stiles closed his eyes, the world faded to nothing.

 * * * 

He wasn’t sure what woke him up.

It was still dark, so he hadn’t been asleep long. There was no clock by his bedside anymore, a reminder that this familiar bed wasn’t where he should be waking up.

His eyes flicked to the window out of habit, and he watched as it began to close, slowly and silently. Stiles squinted blearily into the darkness, but he couldn’t make out anything more than a shadow outside his window. But that was enough.

“Derek,” he whispered. The window stopped moving, little more than three inches between the sash and the sill. The silence was deafening, and for a moment Stiles held his breath, wondering if a reply would come at all.

“I was just making sure you were here.” Derek’s voice was quiet, and Stiles couldn’t even convince himself that it was out of consideration for the late hour. Even beyond that, he could hear the misery in every syllable. “You weren’t supposed to wake up. I know you don’t want to see me right now, but I—I just needed to know you were somewhere safe.”

Stiles sat up, wrapped the top blanket around himself and shuffled over to the window. He didn’t open it, just sat on the floor, his cheek pressed to the jamb. He could feel the light presence of air drifting through the gap. It wasn’t particularly cold, but Stiles shivered anyway.

“I should have left a note,” he said eventually. “It wasn’t my intention to make you worry.”

The reply that came was filled with bitterness and self-loathing. “I could say the same. I should have called. I should have been home,” Derek corrected himself. “I saw—I found—I’m sorry.”

The words didn’t heal the wounds the evening had left deep within Stiles’ chest, but they were a stepping stone. This was Derek reaching out, and now it was up to Stiles to meet him halfway. He reached up, fingers scrabbling as he pushed the window upwards, opening it fully. His motions were far less quiet than Derek’s, but he didn’t care.

He shuffled back as one leg stepped inside the window, followed by another, and then Derek’s head ducked through. His face was drawn, visible even when half-shrouded in shadow. There was tension in every line of his body and he made no move to enter the room further, just hovered by the window as if he would be made to leave at any moment.

And hell if that didn’t sweep the air from Stiles’ lungs. After all this time, Derek should never be unsure of his welcome. Not with him.

His fingers curled into the knee of Derek’s grey sweatpants and he tugged lightly enough to make his point clear. He acquiesced instantly, legs folding beneath him as they both settled on the floor. Even though Derek didn’t need it, Stiles loosened his grip on the blanket and haphazardly threw a corner around Derek’s shoulders.

“I didn’t forget.” When Stiles looked nonplussed, Derek clarified, “The date. I know you think I did, but you’re wrong. There’s a card in the Camaro. It has a stupid pun on it. I thought it would make you laugh.”

It probably would have. Stiles would have been delighted at Derek’s attempt at humour. He would have probably had it framed, to hang in their bedroom for years to come.

“That helps,” Stiles admitted. “But it doesn’t make everything better. I felt, no, I feel like an idiot for caring so much about this. And it’s ridiculous because I knew who you were when we got together. I didn’t expect rose petals and candles and slow dancing. I just wanted to see you.”

Silence. Stiles knew he’d somehow said the wrong thing because he could feel the sadness rolling off Derek in waves.

“What did I say?”

“Nothing.”

Stiles’ hand flew out and he flicked on the lamp. When his eyes recovered from the sudden flare of brightness, he squinted at Derek. “Are you actually pouting right now?”

“No.” Derek raised his eyes to the ceiling petulantly, pursing his lips.

Stiles barked out a laugh and poked Derek in the bicep. “You are totally pouting. What did I say? Tell me. You know I won’t quit until you do.”

“I could do all of that if that’s what you wanted,” Derek ground out with no small amount of reluctance. “It doesn’t make me feel good when you say you don’t expect me to do the whole romance thing.”

“You literally just called it ‘the whole romance thing’, dude, that doesn’t instil hope. And given that I can’t even get you to show up for dinner when you agreed to it, why would I hold my breath for wooing?”

Derek’s eyes flashed blue, his hands curling into fists as he turned his guilt-ridden face away. Stiles closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. And I didn’t mean it, really I didn’t. I’m just lashing out because I’m embarrassed. You know you romanced the hell out of me when we started dating. That wasn’t what I meant. I was trying to express that I didn’t expect our anniversary to be a huge deal in general. I just wanted to acknowledge that it happened, because it was the day the world gave me you.”

Derek swallowed, and Stiles watched as the tension unfurled from his body. He idly picked at a stray string at the hem of his sweatpants, before clumsy fingers reached out and curled over Stiles’. A peace offering, a gesture of forgiveness and a request for forgiveness of his own at the same time.

Stiles threaded their fingers together and held on tightly.

“You already had me,” Derek said. He rubbed his thumb over Stiles’ knuckles. “Fate or the universe or anything else had no part in it. I do like knowing that’s how you see it, though.”

“How do you see it?”

“I remember it as the day I realized that you were going to keep fighting at my side like you belonged there, and it first occurred to me that you did.”

The threat of tears stung Stiles’ eyes, and he raised their joined hands together to lightly brush his lips over the back of Derek’s hand.

“I love you.”

“Yes,” Derek said, then cautiously added, “Does that mean you’ll come home?”

Stiles nodded, and pressed his forehead to Derek’s shoulder, basking in the warmth. “I was always coming home.” He cast a look over his shoulder at his childhood bed and sighed. “I’m not waking my dad up after his late night. You’ll have to squeeze in beside me and suffer in a single bed for one night.”

The smile that spread over Derek’s face was fond, genuine. Its sudden appearance made the ache in Stiles’ chest finally settle, even as his heart betrayed him and embarrassingly skipped a beat. He flushed, not even needing to look at Derek to know he’d heard it and the smile was widening into a dumb grin.

“Stupid werewolf hearing,” Stiles huffed and slid back into his bed, making space for Derek to join him. “Get in the bed before I change my mind. And you’re buying me a nice dinner tomorrow. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about my card, I want my dumb punny card, Derek.”

Derek kicked off his shoes, sliding under the covers and wrapping his arms around Stiles. Stiles wriggled closer, sighing as Derek pressed a gentle kiss to his neck, and then nuzzled the same spot sweetly.

“Anything you want,” he promised.

If you liked it, please consider leaving me a comment or kudos on AO3, or reblogging here!

[ravengrey2103]

Natural Selection at its Finest

By:RavenGrey1469

Derek is sitting at the kitchen table, chatting idly with Sheriff Stilinski as they both wait for Stiles to come downstairs.

“More coffee, Derek?” The Sheriff asks politely, standing up and reaching for Derek’s cup.

“Please.” Derek replies, picking up the mug and handing it to the Sheriff.

They’ve been waiting on Stiles for the better part of a half-hour. It seems that Stiles has either completely forgotten that he was supposed to come downstairs to eat breakfast, or he just doesn’t care that their food is getting cold, because he has yet to make an appearance since he stumbled down the stairs earlier to tell them he was going to take a shower. Well, his form of communication was less speaking, and more grunting if he’s being honest. But luckily, both Derek and Stiles’ father are fluent in Stiles’ primitive morning language. The dark-haired nineteen-year-old seems to regress to caveman speech in the mornings, which Derek refuses to admit that he finds adorable in any way. 

The Sheriff returns, setting Derek’s refilled coffee mug on the table before taking his seat across from Derek. They both have a direct view of the stairs, so they see Stiles’ shadow when the young man starts to descend. Derek sighs. He can practically smell the oncoming disaster.

Stiles seems to pause, and Derek can hear him fumbling with something, catching the sound of metal, probably an eating utensil, clacking against a plate or bowl. Now, let it be known that Stiles has never been graceful. He lost that right when he tripped over an imaginary crack in the sidewalk a few years back and broke his nose. To this day, Stiles swears that there was a slight indentation in the sidewalk that impeded his walking abilities, but everyone knows the truth. There was nothing there. Nothing, other than Stiles’ uncanny ability to fall, trip, stumble, and any other act of clumsiness you can think of. Stiles could probably find a way to hurt himself with a stuffed animal. Actually, now that Derek thinks about it, he already has. Derek shudders. That is not a memory he wants to relive right now. How anyone could manage to get a paper cut from something soft, fluffy, and filled with stuffing, is beyond him. But, it’s Stiles, so he really isn’t all that surprised anymore.

Stiles continues his descent, pulling Derek from his thoughts. Derek and the Sheriff’s eyes connect and they share a knowing look, trying to decide if they should take preemptive measures, or if they should just let this play out and see what kind of catastrophe Stiles will get himself into this time. They eventually decide to just let it happen. They care about Stiles, they really do, but everyone needs a bit of humour in their lives now and again.

In preparation, Derek takes a deep breath, looks directly at the staircase, and says, in his best impression of a documentary narrator, “And here, you can see the endangered Stiles in his natural habitat.”

As if on cue, Stiles yelps and comes tumbling down the stairs in a flurry of clatters and thuds, eventually winding up at the foot of the stairs in a heap with cereal and milk splattered on his face and clothes. He just sits there for a moment, slumped against the bottom stair with an impressive pout on his face. Derek decides to continue his narration.

“It is clear that natural selection is coming for this specimen.” Stiles whips his head up at Derek’s words, his glare losing most of its heat due to the bits of cereal that have stuck to his face and hair.

“I heard that.” He mutters, flopping his head down to look at the cereal bowl that is now lying in scattered pieces across the floor.

“I know.” Derek replies simply, still staring at Stiles with an unimpressed expression, mildly wondering why he chose this particular human to be the love of his life. And then he remembers everything else he loves about Stiles. He’s witty and smart, and he always knows just what to say. And, even though Derek loathes the thought, he even loves Stiles’ clumsiness. It’s just another piece in the ever-changing jigsaw puzzle that is Stiles Stilinski. Suddenly, the Sheriff’s voice cuts through Derek’s musings.

“Where in the hell did you get the cereal?!”

Stiles looks up at his father, then back down at his recently deceased cereal bowl, then up at his father again, a dismal and serious look on his face.

“I don’t even know anymore, dad.”

Derek chuckles lightly. Leave it to Stiles to have cereal magically appear in his hand just in time for him to fall down the stairs and spill it all over himself. It’s yet another thing he loves about Stiles. He has comedic talent, even when he isn’t trying.

“Do you need a minute?” Derek asks humorously.

“Yeah… I’m going to need a few minutes, actually.” Stiles says sadly. Derek and the Sheriff stand from their seats at the table and begin heading toward the kitchen.

The Sheriff goes and pats Stiles on the shoulder as he passes. “Alright, son; Take all the time you need.”

With a smile and another laugh, both men leave Stiles to grieve both the loss of his cereal and his dignity. 

-------------------------------------------------------

Links to my AO3 and Fanfiction.net profiles...

[vmures]

I'd love to see the directors commentary for A Merry War <3

I'm so glad you asked about this one! It was such a fun fic to write.

This was originally written for the July 2021 Rough Trade Challenge (Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy). If you aren't familiar with that challenge site, it is a rough draft challenge, where you do your best to complete a rough draft of a work in a month. Challenge lengths can vary a good bit, but this one was for a novella length fic. I'd been following the challenge for ages, but this was the first time I decided to try my hand at it myself. And I had a blast once I settled on an idea for the challenge.

One of my all-time favorite Shakespeare plays is Much Ado About Nothing, and I was was pondering paranormal romance ideas I realized that Stiles and Peter could definitely have a solid Beatrice/Benedict vibe.

One of my personal headcanons about Peter is that many canon events fucked him up tremendously and shaped him into the person he became in the series. And I wanted to explore what he might have been like in a different world, and what Stiles might have been like had he not discovered the supernatural when he did. So I had to figure out how to create that world, what might cause those changes?

And I realized that if the Argents had been dealt with long before they ever became an issue for the Hales and even before the attempted peace talks Gerard had with Deucalion and other alphas, a whole slew of things likely would never have happened. Including that ill-fated meeting that resulted in the disaster with Paige, and including Talia fucking with Peter's memories (though we don't know what caused her to do that, we know that at least one memory was taken that involved Hunters chasing him and Derek and them hiding in the Nematon's roots). With their territory safe and stable, Peter would be able to be himself, and that meant I could play around with what he might have chosen to become professionally. In canon, he's a bit of a fashionista, so I decided on fashion designer Peter with a focus on men's wear.

Then I got to thinking about Stiles and I wanted to do something different with his character. So often we see him going into law enforcement or some sort of analyst job. But we know that he has the potential to be fairly physical from the series and Dylan O'Brien has definitely put in a lot of work on the action star front. So I pondered him becoming a fighter of some sort. I'd been watching 9-1-1 a good bit and there is a subplot involving illegal street fights, but one of the actors did do MMA and that got me thinking in that direction. So then I had to address how he got into that, and then how he and Peter would meet up.

All of this led to the idea that Chris could be the pivotal character in a lot of ways. What if he was the one who cleaned up his family's mess and put a stop to it, but that got him ostracized from the hunting community and blacklisted from the arms business as well? What might he do to make ends meet? We know he's a seasoned fighter, and we can assume he has training abilities given his work with Allison in the series. So I landed on the idea of him becoming an MMA fighter and then opening his own gym when he was ready to retire from the ring.

At some point, I may go back and write the full story of how he and the Sheriff end up falling in love. But the short version is that Noah was not used to anyone else loving and supporting his son without hesitation and qualifications (i.e. He's a good kid, but...), and seeing Chris with his son as they trained was quite an eye-opening experience. Plus Chris is dead sexy and Noah is only human.

I eventually got all the backstory sorted in my head, including the gradual dissolution of Stiles and Scott's relationship, which is a common thing that happens as people who were friends because they were both the odd kids out in school grow up and apart as they find less and less in common with one another. And where I could see Scott and Stiles growing apart as they got older, I could see college-age Jackson and Stiles becoming friends. Because I always got the sense that Jackson was jealous of Stiles and his relationship with his dad. With a bit of time for both of them to grow up, they'd have a better understanding of one another and a greater appreciation for the snark and attitude the other has. In high school they're just a bit too similar (prickly and unsure of their actual welcome and covering it with sarcasm, bravado and ego), even if they would never, ever want to admit that.

I realized that if I wrote all of that, it would be a massive story and I'd never finish it in a month. And it wouldn't be the fun, light-hearted story that I wanted to tell in this instance. So I kept that backstory in my head and focused on what happened when Stiles decided he was ready to retire and head back to Beacon Hills. Then it was fun to let go of my inner snark and write all the banter between them. Plus I got to include a nod to a favorite film and another slash pairing I love (Casablanca and Rick/Louie, cause there is definitely a "more than friends" vibes between the two). I always enjoy winding some of my other favorite pop culture bits into a story.

Plus writing healthy, happy, and incredibly snarky Hales is always a blast. The Stilinskis and Hales all have a great deal of mischief and snark at their heart, which makes them great fun to write. While I'm sure some of it came from Claudia in Stiles' case, Noah shows he's pretty similar to his son in a lot of ways and it's always fun exploring that. And when it comes to Chris...I admit to being charmed by J.R. Bourne's own attitude and some of his Instagram videos, all of which made me want a softer version of Chris. We see hints of that in his interactions with Allison, so I just amped it up a bit.

Let me know if I missed something you desperately wanted to know about! <3 <3 <3

[usermischief]

Based on the last chapter of NPFP, Jordan’s wild and baffling time is continuing. All he wanted was to keep Stiles, his new adoptive brother (but not the newly returned biological younger brother) and the son of his boss who is also the sheriff, safe and this has been his goal pretty much since he appeared in this fic because his boss trusted Jordan, out of everyone else, with his son’s safety. However, not only is Stiles possibly a death magnet, but also, having sex with his boyfriend legitimately poisoned Stiles. Jordan probably was only concerned about if he needed to give Stiles some sort of supernatural birds and the bees talk, but no, Stiles just had to go and fall for someone who can genuinely poison him. Just imagine Jordan’s reaction to the knowledge that Stiles and Theo had sex but Theo accidentally poisoned Stiles. I also like to think that Jordan, prior to…everything, wanted life in Beacon Hills to liven up a bit but is now dearly regretting this wish and considers his current life to be proof that there is some sort of higher power and that being is laughing hysterically and also has a very ironic sense of humor.

It's even funnier seeing that Stiles was the one giving Theo the ability to straight-up kill him if he's not careful.

This poor guy came to Beacon Hills... and it all went downhill from there. Jordan was stabbed by onis, set on fire by a colleague, and then found out he's possessed by a hellhound. When Sheriff Stilinski asked him to take care of his son in case he's at the hospital, Jordan probably thought, "what's the worst that could happen?" only to figure out that Stiles is an absolute disaster human who attracts bad luck and murderous supernatural creatures alike. Also, Stiles isn't exactly too concerned about the law (and not at all above breaking it) despite his father being the sheriff.

Honestly, Jordan is probably glad when he can go to bed and knows Stiles is still breathing.

[taroet-archive]

Okay. Okay. So, this was actually happening. Caroline Forbes had just said yes to going on a date with him. With him. Stiles Stilinski. The same guy who spent most of his romantic history either striking out completely or running for his life from supernatural disasters mid-date. Now, here she was, standing in front of him, smiling — like, really smiling — at him. His brain took an extra second to catch up. Like it needed a hard reboot because, wow, yeah, that was an actual yes, not a hypothetical one. She was saying yes. To him . . . & she was holding his hand. Fingers interlaced. Interlaced. That was, like, peak hand-holding intimacy.

He blinked at her, mouth slightly open, as the weight of responsibility hit him. Plan the date? Right. That was a thing people did. People who weren’t him. Because, historically speaking, planning & executing things with even mild success was not his strong suit. “ Oh. Yeah. Totally. I mean, obviously, since I asked, that makes me the official date planner. Which is . . . great. Super great. I love planning. Big planner over here. ” His free hand flailed vaguely before he ran it through his hair. “ I mean, sure, most of my plans usually involve last-minute improvisation & a little bit of sheer panic, but hey, keeps things exciting, right? ” A beat. Probably not the best thing to admit.

“ But no, no panic here, ” he corrected quickly. “ I’ll plan. A good date. A great date. The best date. ” He squeezed her hand for emphasis, as if that would somehow sell it. “ Something classic, but, you know, with a twist. Maybe an activity so you don’t get bored — because, let’s be honest, if I take you to some generic restaurant where we just sit & stare at each other for two hours, you’ll eat me alive. ” He let out a breathless chuckle. “ And not in the fun way. ”

There was another pause & then he heard it— what she’d said before. About him. You're not embarrassing, Stiles. I find you very sweet, even endearing. He should respond. He really should. But instead, his brain short-circuited again. Because that was not a thing people usually said to him. Stiles Stilinski was a lot of things — loud, anxious, frequently a disaster — but sweet? Endearing? Not embarrassing? That was new. That was— wow, okay, that was doing something to his heart rate.

He swallowed, glancing down at their joined hands, trying to play it cool. “ You, uh . . . you would’ve been nervous asking me out too? ” He let that thought roll around in his head for a second. “ Huh. That’s— that’s wild. I mean, not wild in, like, an unbelievable way, just wild in a ‘wow, this is actually happening’ way. ” Then he grinned, eyes bright. “ Okay, yeah. I’m gonna plan the hell out of this date. Just you wait, Forbes. It’s gonna be legendary. ”

stiles was asking her on a date, and she listens along to his ramblings, she doesn't necessarily agree that it was embarrassing. they just had to speak the same language. she needed to understand what he wanted, just like she needed to voice what she wanted: and right now? she really wants to go on a date with him. they'd shared a kiss, well. a couple. sue a girl. she wanted more of that too, she'd quite enjoyed kissing him, even if it had begun as a way to stop him from rambling. tilting her head at him, nodding quietly.

caroline wasn't great at quiet, but it felt important to their future relationship to let him speak this time. not to acutely kiss him. even if, and she might, she really wants to kiss him. a date was a big thing, at least to caroline. (you're always just one date away from your true love, ladies!) so when he finally asks her again, in true form this time. she nods with a bigger smile.

"i'd love to go on a date with you, stiles. will you plan it too? since you invited me?" she was actually very curious about this one. would he go for something simple (and kind of plain) like a dinner out? it'd be cute if he cooked for her. maybe he'd take her for a walk, oh! or game night? she'd crush him in monopoly, she already knows. she was waiting eagerly for his response when she reached out to take his hand, interlacing their fingers.

"you're not embarrassing, stiles. i find you very sweet, even endearing. i would be nervous asking you out too." letting him know he wasn't alone. caroline wasn't even sure she would've asked face to face. maybe she would've chosen the cop-out way and sent him a text and prayed to carrie bradshaw that everything would work out.

[cattatonically]

Want You Bad - Day 5

This is part of a series for #sterekvalentineweek - I would suggest reading them in order.

What you can generally expect - hilarity, chaos, mishaps, slow burn, strong language, and vague descriptions of some minor criminal activity.

I hope you have as much fun on this adventure as I did!

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4

It was Stiles’ usual night out with his friends. They were at their usual bar, and, of course, discussing his latest case - or, as many of the details that he could legally share.

Danny was laughing at his anecdotes, and adding his own. Erica and Boyd were snuggled up and being snarky. Isaac was making quips at Stiles’ expense. Jackson was reminding, for the millionth time, that he would absolutely not bail Stiles out of jail. Peter and Kira were commiserating about Stiles being their biggest headache, and the drinks were flowing freely. All in all, Stiles was having a really great night!

And really, he could only blame the six beers he’d had for what happened next. And the fact that he had not been thinking at all in that moment.

One minute, he was laughing at something Isaac had said, leaning into Danny for support, and the next, his vision had honed in on Derek and Jordan standing at the bar, laughing to themselves.

It looked like Jordan had his hand on Derek’s arm. They were standing way too close to each other for Stiles’ liking. And then, Stiles was standing from his table, and walking right on over to them.

Sliding right in next to Derek, before Stiles could even realize what he was doing, he leaned up and licked Derek right across the cheek. Then, he turned and stared Jordan down. And Jordan? Well. He just burst out laughing. And that’s when it all hit Stiles.

“Uh…” he said eloquently.

“What the hell?” Derek asked. And all Stiles could do was blink up at him as Derek grabbed a napkin from the bar and wiped his cheek.

“Um. Oops?”

“Oops? Stiles, how the hell is licking me an ‘oops’ situation?” Jordan had calmed his laughter down by now, sort of, and addressed Stiles himself.

“Oh my god, chill out. He’s yours, Stiles. Absolutely yours,” Jordan emphasized, glancing at Derek, who glared right back at Jordan.

“I am not his, Jordan.”

“He licked you. So you’re his,” Jordan said through another fit of giggles. Derek sighed.

“Jordan, you are 35 years old. How are as mature as a 12-year-old?”

“The Stilinski Effect, most likely.”

“Wait,” Stiles said, brain finally coming back online. “Which Stilinski?”

“Yes,” was all Jordan said, with a sombre nod. “Anyway, have a great rest of your night, Stiles.” Then he grabbed the drinks that had been put in front of him, and walked away to a different table, Derek following along.

On slightly shaky legs, Stiles wandered back to his own table, and collapsed next to Danny in a heap.

“Stiles. I know I have given you a lot of flak for how you’ve gone about courting my nephew. But that. That was truly a masterclass in disaster.” Peter was grinning at him like the cat that caught the canary. All Stiles could do was sigh as the others burst out laughing.