#This is before that conversation but Stiles knows they remembered him last time around

[ateotd-izzy]

ceilings | stiles stilinski x fem!reader

part one | PART TWO (requested by @mysticallystilinski)

summary: after going through her memories and finally remembering stiles, y/n is confident that he’s back. so she goes with lydia and malia to find him.

warnings: FLUFF, some swearing, this is more parts of the episode rather than me just making it up but yk

taglist: @brvceyamada

☾

“y/n?” scott’s voice brought you out of your head.

"where is he?" you turned to face him. “you guys saw him? right? it was working.”

“what?”

“stiles. he was right here. didn’t you guys see him? the light?” you gestured to the empty hall in front of you.

“we didn't see anyone.” malia stated.

"no." you looked down the corridor again, your voice echoing around the walls. "he was here. i know it."

"alright, come on." malia put her hands on your shoulders. "back inside."

she and lydia led you back into the room and scott closed the door behind you all. or he went to.

liam appeared in the doorway and stopped it from closing last second.

"liam..." scott sighed in relief.

"there's something you need to see." liam said to him.

"you're still here."

"but everyone else is gone. all of them. they're all gone."

your heart probably would've sunk if you weren't dead set on the thought that stiles was back.

you ignored the rest of the conversation between liam and scott and tried to think about exactly where stiles could be. where you would find him.

"in case stiles comes back?"

your head shot up at lydia's words.

"if there's hope, you need to keep trying." scott told the three of you.

you knew stiles wouldn't think to come to argent's bunker, but you kept quiet as scott left with liam.

you waited about ten minutes before heading for the door.

“um, excuse me?” lydia scoffed, getting your attention. “where do you think you’re going?”

“where does it look? i’m going to find stiles.”

“scott told us to stay in case he shows up here.” lydia stated.

“okay, we all know stiles would never come here.” malia pointed out, joining you at the door, and you nodded in agreement.

“see? we need to find him.” you stated. the look lydia gave you was one of disbelief. “look, if he was gonna show up here, he would’ve. but he hasn’t, so…”

lydia didn’t say anything.

“please, lydia?” you begged. “please?”

“fine.” she caved and the three of you quickly left the bunker.

you ended up in the school parking lot just a few minutes later where stiles’ jeep had been left since he disappeared.

instead now the car was gone.

hope sparked in your chest as you examined the tire marks on the ground in front of you.

“they look fresh.” lydia noted.

“it’s from stiles’ jeep.” malia agreed. “it must’ve just left.”

“without his keys?” lydia asked incredulously.

“he used a screwdriver to start it up half the time.” you spoke up, not looking at your friends.

“then he’s here.” malia spoke.

“we have to tell scott.” lydia stated.

looking up, you noticed train tracks running across the school’s lawn and into the building.

“yeah, well, we should probably tell scott about that too.” you stood up and started walking over.

lydia and malia exchanged a look and the three of you headed into the school.

after reaching the library and finding the train station inside, and soon after finding peter, getting malia to get him out of the ghost riders’ world and into your own, there was a fight and you and lydia had to run out of the library, leaving malia and peter alone to fight the ghost riders.

“shit, where’s—” your voice seemed to disappear as you spoke.

both you and lydia had turned around to face the library, but you had this feeling.

your heart sped up and it was like a rush. like how you had felt before when you went through your memories.

the feeling you had around stiles.

you started heading down the hallway without another word.

“y/n? where on earth…” lydia sighed and followed after quickly.

it was like something was pulling you through the school, down the different hallways.

a gunshot not too far ahead got you to speed up.

“scott, i can’t fight this guy!” stiles’ voice shouted from one of the locker rooms and you frantically grabbed lydia’s arm, pulling her to the room as another gunshot went off.

“no, no, no.” you muttered as you did so, before you reached the doorway.

inside the room was a ghost rider pointing his gun right at someone’s head.

stiles stood before the ghost rider, looking exactly like he did when you last saw him.

the same red flannel, the same hairstyle, everything.

you covered your ears as lydia screamed, sending the ghost rider flying into the lockers ahead.

when she stopped you pushed your way into the room properly and froze as stiles stared back at the two of you in shock.

“stiles…” you breathed out, a smile tugging on your lips.

you both then rushed towards each other, meeting halfway and connecting your lips in a kiss.

his hands cupped your face like they had so many times before, and your hands were in his hair, trying to keep him as close to you as possible.

you never wanted to let go of him.

the missing piece to your puzzle had finally been found, and now the picture was complete.

in that moment, you didn’t care about the ghost riders, or lydia, who had stepped out of the room for a moment. the only thing you cared about was him.

stiles.

the three whole months without him had been the longest of your life. even if you couldn’t remember him.

the two of you pulled apart and his arms found their way around you.

“oh, god.” he mumbled into your shoulder, hugging you tight.

you took his face in your hands and just examined him. you took in all his features as if it were the first time you had ever seen him.

he was real. and he was right in front of you.

“i thought i had lost you.” you whispered, the tears finally starting to brim in your eyes. “i don’t know what i would’ve done…”

you trailed off, getting lost in his brown eyes.

his eyes.

you hugged him tightly again.

“i love you so much.” he whispered in your ear. “god, i’ve missed you.”

“you don’t know how much i’ve missed you.” you said with a slight chuckle. “oh, my god.”

he smiled and leaned in, pressing his lips against yours again.

“i still can’t…” your hand brushed some of his hair that sat slightly over his forehead. “i mean, you exist. you’re here.”

“i’m here,” he wrapped his arms around you again. “and i don’t want to leave you ever again.”

you hugged him back tight, your arms slotting into place around his torso just under his own arms.

lovely to just stay there with him.

“you ready for our last day of high school ever?” you asked stiles quietly.

the two of you were lying in his bed, under the covers and in pyjamas, facing each other.

the last day of senior year.

“no.” he whispered and you smiled softly.

you slotted your hand into his. “that’s okay.”

“yeah.”

it had taken some time, but everything had slowly begun going back to normal.

or your definition of ‘normal.’

normal was you and stiles lying in bed at 6:30 in the morning when you were supposed to be getting ready for school.

it still felt impossible for you to be looking at him again. touching him again. kissing him again.

with one hand in his and the other tucked under your head, you just stared at stiles with a smile.

“what’re you looking at, weirdo?” he asked, his beautiful smile slipping onto his face.

“you.” you leaned forward and pecked him on the lips.

“woah. very bold.”

“it’s ‘cause you’re kinda cute.” you shrugged, holding back a smile.

stiles rolled over and grabbed his phone off the nightstand. “you know i might have to call my girlfriend and tell her this very pretty girl is making moves on me.”

you rolled your eyes as he held his phone to his ear, your phone ringing seconds later.

“well, would you look at that?” he grinned, hanging up the call and dropping his phone onto the bed. “you’re my girlfriend.”

“you’re such a dork.” you laughed. “and so cheesy.”

“you love me.” he whispered against your lips before kissing you.

of course the door opened at that very second.

“okay, you two, enough canoodling and start getting your butts to school.” sheriff stilinski ordered, coffee mug in hand, and stiles groaned. “last day!”

stilinski forced a small cheer and you chuckled, copying the cheer.

“there’s the enthusiasm.” noah nodded and walked back down the hallway.

“dad, close the door!” stiles called after him.

“get ready for school!” noah yelled back.

the two of you, stiles more begrudgingly, did end up getting ready for your last day and sat down in his jeep.

“you ready now?” you asked stiles as he put the keys into the ignition.

“nope.” he started up the car.

“me neither.”

stiles turned his head to meet your eyes and smiled.

and it feels like the end of a movie i’ve seen before

you smiled back and he started driving, both of you totally unprepared to leave high school, but ready to start the rest of your lives. together.

before

a/n: i feel like this isn’t as good (or as long) as the first part but i still hope you guys like it

[novasillies]

wip (not) wednesday

in honour of hitting 100k words (WHAT THE FUCK) of this fic I am gonna drop a wee little snippet I suppoossseeeeeeAAAAAAAAAGAGHG

This is from the beginning (ish) of the 6th and final chapter of Third Time's The Charm season 1: 'Promises, Fools'. i only have a handful of scenes left in this chapter and then I'm DONE!!! (she says as if it's not already like 20k words long (FREE MEEEE))

“I need you,” were the first words he whispered into the soft rustling of sheets as Derek began to stir behind him. A real answer to the question he’d asked earlier. Derek probably didn’t hear. Or maybe he was too close to asleep to answer properly. Or to understand. Or maybe he just didn’t want to. He could almost hear the bullshit answer Derek would give him back if he gave one at all. ‘I’m right here,’ he’d say. ‘You already have me.’ “I don’t wanna be Him,” were the next words he said, an eternity of silence later. Derek’s hand stopped where it had been tracing back and forth right beside the concave scar tissue left over from that night at the mall. It was the only one of his scars that made him nauseous to touch. It had hurt, when the grimoire was out of his skin. It ached and burned if he strained too much. It itched. But then he’d touch it and that phantom sensation of touching his own internal organs made his stomach lurch. That and couldn’t sleep on his front or back anymore.  “Who?”  “Him,” Stiles answered, “Me. The Other Me.” After a moment, Derek answered into his skin, “I know.” Stiles took in a shaky breath, “I don’t want to. I don’t… I…” His brows met in the middle. Derek’s fingertips started to move again, more conscious in their comfort. “I don’t understand you.” He could feel the way Derek’s brows moved, just as his did, against the back of his neck, “What do you mean?” “I burned your house down,” Stiles answered mildly.  Derek’s breath caught against him, “You didn’t–” “I did,” Stiles said, “I burned it down with you and Peter inside. And you carried me to the hospital.” He turned around, unflinching with the unwanted power of his spark muting any pain from his scars once again, to stare straight into Derek’s eyes. Into the horribly familiar way his jaw tightened and his green eyes sharpened. He waited for Derek to adjust his arms around his waist before he went on, “And when I left to try and go back in time, you even went to Scott to help find me.” He blinked slowly at the just as slow downturn of Derek’s brows, “I don’t understand how you could react like that.” Those green eyes darted down for just a fraction of a second before they rose again, “It’s complicated.” “Well,” Stiles said, “I didn’t think it would be simple.” Derek’s left eye twitched, and he licked his lips, “It’s not–” He huffed a little, shifting where he lay, “It felt like it was my fault you lost control like that.” Stiles said nothing.  “The Other Stiles didn’t…” Derek’s eyes shifted away slightly, “He didn’t have to say much to convince me to keep you busy at the formal. I…” He frowned, “I guess I felt like I was…”  Stiles got sick of waiting for him to finish that sentence awfully fast, “You know He’s not gonna be better than what we saw of Him just because you love me, right?” Derek met his gaze, steadfast, “You know he’s not another you, right?” Stiles’ stomach turned.  “I said last night you don’t have a choice,” Derek nodded, “and I meant it. I love you, Stiles. And that means I love you even when you think you’re at your worst.” “You shouldn’t,” Stiles spat with narrowed eyes, “My worst is deadly, Derek. My worst is getting possessed and stringing together elaborate plots to kill and terrorise as many as possible. It’s wrecking my car. It’s shattering mirrors and vomiting and snapping necks and burning down houses.” The words flowed out of him like molten lava, “Blind faith is the killer of devotion, you remember that?”

Oh boy, oh boy. what a joyful conversation. yikes!! anyway. i am having a whale of a time writing this (how in the world is that actually a saying. are whales well known for their recreational fun???) and cannot wait for the like two people that r gonna read it wowowww

ofc no-pressure tag to the og gangster @patolemus (and anyone else who so wishes to share. please do!! love love love)

read the prequel (or the original fic i guess?), Twice And For All, here <3

[specialagentlokitty]

Lydia x Brother!reader - trust you

Lydia Martin X Brother!Reader (if ok? If not, could I request it be sibling!reader instead please?) Who has ADHD and has an interest in supernatural creatures, and Lydia has always gone to him for advice on any new threats, but when R is attacked by a monster Lydia is both worried and feeling guilty for not telling R about the supernatural world being real, but assures R that her and the pack have his back? Sorry for it being long! - Anon💜

Sitting in your room, you tapped your pen against the book in front of you as you scrolled through the webpage on your computer.

You were noting things down about druids, a current fascination of yours.

You were curious about supernatural creatures, you didn’t care that they were myths, you simply just loved learning about them, the lore behind them.

And right now you were down the rabbit hole of druids and the lore behind them, there was is much to read and learn, you hadn’t realised you had been at it nearly all day until your sister came in.

“I have a question about banshees.”

You blinked, shaking your head a little as you looked up at your sister, turning your chair around to look at you properly as you kicked your feet up on the desk.

“Go for it Lydia.”

“Well, what exactly do they do?”

“I suppose it depends on the country and the lore, some say they can predict death, when they sense or know someone is close to death the scream. It can be said that if you hear a banshee scream, you or someone close to you will die soon.”

She nodded her head, asking a few more follow up questions.

You happily answered them all, unaware of her muted phone in her pocket with the rest of her friends listening to the conversation.

When she seemed happy with everything, she smiled at you and stood up, hugging you lightly.

“Thank you!”

“Welcome, but you’ve reminded me I haven’t eaten all day so I’m going to grab some food, want anything?”

“Oh can you bring me some rice from that really nice place you go to?”

“Absolutely!”

You jumped up and tossed a hoodie on, pulling some shoes on and left your room only to go back to grab your car keys and leave.

Lydia had left just before you so you locked up the house and began to drive across the town to your favourite takeaway.

Tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, you glanced in your rear view mirror for a split second, and when you looked to the road again you slammed on your breaks.

Your car screeched to a halt and you quickly jumped out, rushing forward to make sure you hadn’t hit the person who just appeared in the middle of the road.

“Are you insane?!” You yelled.

You walked around the front of your car and furrowed your brows a little, looking around.

There was no one there, but you were sure that you had seen someone.

So, you did one last check and turned around, and the last thing you remembered was glowing blue eyes.

It was Noah who found you, he had a report of a car abandoned in the middle of the street, and he went to investigate and he just happened to see you in the edge of his headlights.

You were rushed to the hospital and into surgery, and he immediately called Stiles to tell your sister.

The whole pack were at the hospital, Stiles, Scott, Derek, Peter, Alison, Lydia, Noah and Melissa who had just finished her shift.

“Oh god.. we.. I.. I should’ve told him…” Lydia sobbed.

“You were trying to protect him..” Scott whispered.

“And now he’s dying!” Lydia snapped.

“Hey, hey he’s not dying. They said he’s doing really well, just another hour at most until they’re done.” Melissa said.

Lydia kept blaming herself and they did everything they could to try and reassure her.

At her request, one of the werewolves stayed with you at all times to keep you safe, mostly Derek or Peter.

And a few days later you woke up, in pain and groggy.

“Well hey.”

You looked to your side, brows furrowed a little.

“Mrs… McCall…?”

“Give me a second alright, don’t move.”

You gave a small nod and she did some checks on you before helping you slowly sit up and rested you against the pillows.

“The sheriff is actually outside, do you mind answering a few questions for him?”

You weakly shook your head and she brought him in.

“Can you tell me what happened that night?” He asked.

You opened your mouth and closed it again.

“I… glowing..”

“Glowing?” He asked.

“Glowing.. eyes…”

The two adults shared a look and nodded to you, and you told them what you could remember which wasn’t much.

Melissa left to call your sister and parents, and Noah stayed with you, sitting on the end of your bed helping you ease your nerves by talking to you.

You had to stay in hospital for another week and you were finally allowed to go home.

You didn’t leave your room much, you stayed inside it, and it’s what you were doing now, standing in front of your mirrored wardrobe staring at your bare chest, the deep, jagged, pink scars going across it.

There was a knock on your door, and you looked towards it to see Lydia walking in.

“Do they still hurt…?” She asked quietly.

You shrugged a tiny bit.

“A little I guess.”

Grabbing your hoodie you tossed it on, and turned to look at her.

She had tears in her eyes.

“Lydia… come here.”

You walked over and hugged her tightly, and she sobbed.

“It’s all my fault!”

“You didn’t hurt me, it’s not your fault.”

“No! No I should’ve told you straight away!”

You pulled away and frowned at her.

“It’s why I was asking all those questions! Why I come to you asking weird questions because I know you know the answers!” She sobbed.

You placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, hey tell me what’s going on? Why’re you blaming yourself?”

Lydia took a small breath and wiped her eyes.

“They’re real…”

You looked at her confused.

“Supernatural creatures are real…”

“Lydia you’re my sister, I love you most of the time, but did you hit your head.”

“No! I’m telling the truth! Just.. come with me.”

She grabbed your arm and dragged you to her car, and she drove you to a building you didn’t recognise.

She dragged you inside and you saw all her friends were stood waiting.

“Show him.” She said.

“Are you sure?” Derek asked.

“Show him please.”

They shared a look but nodded, Scott, Derek and Peter stood forward and you watched in horror as their eyes changed, faces changed.

Yellow, blue and red all staring at you, and you stumbled back into the door, dragging Lydia behind you.

You put yourself between them and her.

“They’re okay! They won’t hurt you!”

She slowly took you to the couch and they explained everything to you, and you were having a hard time processing it all.

But you just nodded along.

“So.. you’re all supernatural creatures…?”

“Me and Stiles aren’t.” Alison said.

You turned to Lydia.

“You’re… like them…?”

“No I’m a banshee…”

You just nodded your head and looked away.

“How can.. how can you feel so safe with them…?”

You mumbled.

Lydia reached out, placing her hand on your arm.

“They’re going to protect you I promise, you’re my brother, you’ve always been part of the pack.” She said.

“It was one of them that.. that did this to me…”

“It wasn’t them I swear, it was someone else we’re looking for them.” Stiles said.

You glanced at him.

“How can.. how can you feel safe with them..?”

“Because we’re trying to protect people.” He smiled.

You looked to your sister.

“I promise you, they have your back. We have your back. Okay? I promise.”

You looked at her, and glanced at the pack then turned back to Lydia.

You slowly nodded your head you weren’t sure what to think about all of this, but you trusted your sister so you wanted to trust her on this too

[dreamlandforever]

@writersmonth Prompt: Day 31 - Fall

Fandom: Teen Wolf | Sterek WC: 1k

AO3

XXXI. Fall | Piles of Leaves

“Eli, please don’t…” Derek started, as soon as he saw the mischief in his son’s eyes when they passed a considerable pile of leaves on their walk through the preserve. He interrupted himself the moment he noticed his husband had already jumped on it, dry leaves flying all around Derek’s feet. He let out a sigh and counted to ten, giving himself a little space to calm himself before facing his husband again. Who was now making a leaf angel while Eli tried to do a belly flop on the leaves, landing half on Stiles instead. Derek was thankful for that, both because it broke his son’s fall before he landed on the ground, and because of the way it had left Stiles slightly gasping for breath. “Having fun, you too?” He asked, gently prying Eli off of Stiles so his husband could get some air, instead of Eli’s bony elbows to his stomach. 

“Yeah, it’s Fall, Derek! The best time of the year. Get in here!” Stiles said excitedly, throwing a bunch of leaves at Derek’s face, and taking Eli from his arms to set him on the pile of leaves next to him. “Make an angel with me, munchkin!” Stiles said excitedly, showing Eli how to make an angel on the floor. Derek simply watched as both his husband and son covered themselves in mud and dirt, finally allowing himself to laugh. He could really do without the mess, but he knew what he was getting into the moment he met Stiles. 

“I’m okay over here.” Derek said, stepping back to allow Stiles’ long legs to move more freely.

“Oh, come on! You are wolf. Be one with nature and all that.” 

“Papa a wolf?” Eli asked, trying his best to get back on his feet, but landing twice on his butt before Stiles could stop laughing enough to help him to his feet.

“Yes, Papa’s a wolf but it’s a secret, honey, remember?” Stiles said, placing a finger against Eli’s lips. Eli nodded hard enough that Derek kneeled next to him to hold his head.

“Secrets are for Pack only, aren’t they, son?” Derek coaxed, and Eli nodded again, but now that Derek’s hand was mostly holding him in place it was a lot less violent. 

“Eli!” Stiles called, and the boy immediately turned to him. “On three?” And Derek felt he had missed a full conversation. Until Stiles suddenly yelled three, and both Stiles and Eli grabbed his arms and pulled him until he landed on the leaves with them. 

“Don’t you love Fall?” Stiles asked, as Eli grabbed handfuls of leaves from around and used them to try and cover Stiles up, who simply allowed it to happen.

“It’s not specifically Fall I love.” Derek answered with a smile. 

“Oh, look at you being all romantic. I’m glad. Eli’s going to need a shower and he’s still terrified of them since that time he saw Malia trying to take one when she fell on the mud puddle and he thought she was a monster. “

“Stiles, you told him she was.”

“She looked like one! I didn’t think he would believe me. Also, she was coming out of the shower, I don’t know why he thinks the monster lives inside the shower.”

“Stiles, again, our son is three years old. He believes everything you tell him.”

“I’ve to teach him critical thinking.” Stiles decided, intertwining his fingers on top of his chest and coming up with different ideas.

“Again, Stiles, he’s three.”

“And he’s ours. He’s smart. And much too trusting. He believes everything Jackson tells him. The other day, he was looking for the Tooth Fairy.” Derek barked a laugh at that.

“You know, I actually think I trust Jackson the most with telling Eli all kinds of things.” 

“Yeah, Scott tried to convince him that pizza is made out of broccoli so he could eat the last slice.” 

“You did not let our son be fooled out of pizza.” Derek said incredulously, turning to look at his husband, who was now mostly covered in twigs and dirt.

“Of course not.” Stiles snorted, upsetting a few of the leaves on his face, which Eli was quick to replace.

“No move, daddy! No move! I make pile! On daddy’s face!” Eli reproached, grabbing more twigs and placing them on top of his face. “Papa, daddy gone!” Eli laughed, turning around and pretending to look for Stiles.

“I can only hope, son.” Derek answered softly, low enough that only Stiles heard him. 

Stiles was still unable to speak, because he was hidden, so he settled for slapping his husband on the face as hard as he could without moving too much. It wasn’t too hard, but it got message across. Derek laughed, catching Stiles’ hand in his and kissing it softly. “I will always find you, my love.”

“You better, you asshole.” 

“I found him!” Derek called at Eli, raising Stiles’ hand in his to show his son. 

Eli laughed excitedly and jumped on top of Derek. 

“You found daddy!” 

“He always does, champ. And he’ll always find you, too.” Stiles promised, doing his best to get out of his dead leaves tomb. 

“That I will. Now, how about a shower ? Daddy smells like the forest.” Derek proposed, getting to his feet and placing Eli on top of his shoulders, before helping Stiles to his feet.

“And you love it, Sour Wolf. But I do need a shower. I think I have dirt inside my underwear.” 

“What’s underbear?” Eli asked, and Stiles decided the best option to answer that question was to explain to Eli how underwear came to be. Eli watched attentively, holding on to Derek’s hair. And Derek just led them both back home, waiting patiently to when Stiles would be done with the story, and Eli would nod and ask an incredibly weird question, and then ask the original question once again, this time for Derek to answer in a way Eli would understand. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[amatchinwater]

Melting a Heart of Ice

Pairing: Steo

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken, Isaac Lahey, Derek Hale, Liam Dunbar, Josh Diaz

Warnings: none? I don't think

Words: 3035

Prompt: @steodiscord First Responders with enemies to Lovers and an ice bath challenge peppered in

Ao3 link Masterlist

---

When he graduated from highschool, everyone- Stiles’ father included- assumed he'd join the police academy. Become a deputy and eventual sheriff just like his dad. Naturally when he came home with coursework to be a firefighter, Stiles shocked quite a few people. Except for his best friend Isaac, he knew from the start. Isaac even joined with him. 

Which would have been perfect. Fantastic even. There was just one minor hiccup Stiles didn’t account for. An old childhood crush turned enemy. Theo fucking Raeken. Once upon a time, Stiles and Theo used to be the best of friends. Shared trauma in the loss of close family members at a young age. A playground crush Stiles simply couldn’t avoid.

But then puberty hit and Theo somehow got even fucking hotter. Not to mention a bit of a prick and nearly a Jackson level bully. Gone were the days of sleepovers, hanging out, and even friendly conversation. Common courtesy too, considering the asshole couldn’t be bothered to return a simple smile or head nod in the hallways. And decided to fuck everything with two legs.

So what did the asshole do?

Became a firefighter. 

Irony really chose to make Stiles her bitch too. Because he’s always paired up with Theo. Not his best friend that he likes to be around. No. Why would that happen? Who did he piss off in a past life to earn this atonement?

At the very least, when they’re out on an actual call, Theo has enough common sense to be professional. For the most part. If the call is nothing too major, just checking vitals while they wait for the ambulance to show up on a fainting case, Theo will find a way to tease him.

There was this elderly lady once that had slipped and fell in her home. They arrived at the scene before the ambulance did, she wasn’t showing any signs of having broken anything, but still good to get checked out just in case. When Theo crouched down to check her vitals, she commented how attractive he was. So Theo, with his whole chest, said that she should check Stiles out. That Stiles was much hotter. 

He knows that’s far from the truth.

Stiles could do without the school yard teasing. 

It hasn’t exactly gotten better over the last six years either. Stiles wouldn’t quite call it worse. It’s just- Theo is about this close to making Stiles pull his own hair out. Or drown his fellow firefighter in the dunk tank.

Yes, the dunk tank.

This weekend, the firehouse is helping with a fundraiser carnival. All proceeds go to helping schools in the district with things like music, sports, and supplies. They usually do it twice a year. It’s fun for the kids and a great way for the community to give back while having a good time. Typically, it’s one of Stiles’ favorite things. Because he gets to be paired up with Isaac running the dart toss.

Irony made Stiles her bitch, remember?

So he’s paired with Theo at the dunk tank, the ice bath challenge, and then the ring toss.

All fucking day.

Okay, he’s being a bit dramatic. It’s not all day. After their first rotation they get a half an hour break for lunch and to enjoy the festivities. After that, it’s right back to their stations. At least they only have about ten minutes left at the dunk tank before their break. Stiles is in desperate need of a turkey leg, a funnel cake, and Isaac. Some human interaction that doesn’t make the firefighter want to bash his own head in. 

“Aww, that’s okay, buddy,” Theo snaps his attention back while talking to a kid. The little boy paid for three balls and missed every one of them. “Practice makes perfect, right? You’ll get better, I know it.”

Stiles hates how good the other firefighter is with kids. It’s wildly infuriating. Theo shouldn’t be allowed to be as hot as he is and good with kids. Even on the job, he always gets the kids calm and to safety. They love him. It’s just unfair. Someone should really knock him down a peg. Or four.

“Hey, bud,” Stiles calls after the kid. He stops and turns around with pinched brows, his mother's matching. Stiles tosses another ball that the boy catches. “One more shot, on me. Because I think you can take him.”

His mother smiles, “what do you say, honey?” She asks.

The boy beams, front tooth half grown in, “thanks, Mister!”

“All right, aim right here,” Stiles taps the target in encouragement. “You got this.”

The ball soars, missing its mark again. But the firefighter is fast and smacks the target button. Theo yelps before falling in the dunk tank.

Stiles cackles, high fiving the kid, “you did it! What prize do you want?” The little boy sheepishly points at a stuffed dragon. “That’s my favorite too," he grabs it and hands it over.

“Stiles,” Theo splashes to the surface, climbing out of the tank and throwing a towel around his shoulders. Wet hair matted in so many directions. 

“Thank you,” the mom smiles.

Stiles shrugs, “it’s for the kids and I got a good laugh out of it. Enjoy the rest of your guy’s day. Hey,” he squats to be eye level with the boy snuggling his new toy, “listen to your mom, okay? Have fun,” Stiles ruffles the kid’s hair until he giggles.

“Good job, kid,” Theo bumps his fist with the boy. When they’re far enough away, he glares at Stiles, “seriously? Not even the adults dunked me.”

“Someone had to,” Stiles says before walking away. Kira and Josh are on their way over for their shift anyway. He’s starving and wants to be away from Theo for a bit. He makes a direct beeline for the food truck promising turkey legs. Stiles hasn’t had one in a long time.

At least, not like this.

Fair turkey legs are just different.

After paying the girl for both the leg and funnel cake, Stiles waits by pick up. Thankful that he happened to pick the truck that sells both. As much as he doesn’t want to be around Theo, he can’t help but smile at all of the people having fun. Especially the kids. Stiles remembers coming with his mom when he was younger. It’s why Stiles did what he did for the little boy. He saw a kid with just his mother and Stiles’ heart bled a bit. 

“Order for Stiles,” another girl calls, “and Theo!”

Son of a bitch.

How the hell did he get here so fast? 

As he grabs his own food, Theo comes up behind him, “can’t get rid of me that easy,” his words ghost along Stiles’ neck and he has to fight the shiver.

“Guess I’ll just have to try harder,” Stiles snarks, walking away to an empty picnic table to eat. He’d rather be a dick than have to think about why the other guy’s voice almost made him shudder. Theo sits across from him with cheesy fries and a funnel cake of his own. “Can you not let me eat in peace?”

“When I enjoy your company so much? Never,” Theo teases, taking a bite of his fries. “Cheese fry?” The other firefighter offers the fork.

They do look good. But that fork was just in Theo’s mouth! “No, I’m okay.” Stiles is just going to shovel this in his mouth and run somewhere else. He tries to sit and eat as though the other guy isn’t even there. Just to preserve his own sanity because he can feel the way Theo keeps looking at him. Stiles just didn’t account for Theo eating as quickly as him.

So when he gets up to throw his trash away, the other firefighter is right fucking there. “What are you thinking about doing? Bumper cars? Water guns? Fun house?” Theo asks, falling in stride with him as if they’re here together. “I figured we don’t have a lot of time left, we should stick together so we can get back to our booth.”

Ugh, it’s practical and responsible. Stiles hates it. “I’ll know when I see it.” Honestly, he’s just aimlessly walking around until their time is done. As fun as bumper cars sound. They pass Isaac and Derek- their captain- working the ice bath challenge.

“Hey, you're early. What do you guys think?” Hale asks, gesturing towards the bin, “You wanna give it a shot?”

“I don’t know, Cap,” Stiles says, eyeing the ice skeptically. He got lucky that Theo lost the rock, paper, scissors for sitting in the dunk tank. The firefighter doesn't really want wet clothes.

“Come on, Stiles,” Isaac pushes.

Before he can argue again, Theo lightly elbows him, “it can’t be that bad. I mean, we deal with intense heat on a daily basis. What’s a little cold water?”

“Uh, ice cold water!” Stiles shrieks, he’d like to keep his toes.

“Aww,” Theo coos with a fake pout, “are you scared?”

This fucking asshole! It’s one thing to tease him about something or even dare Stiles. But never accuse him of being scared. Stiles runs into burning buildings for a living for fuck’s sake. Derek, Isaac, and a few bystanders ‘ooh’ at them. Thus sealing his fate.

“Not even close, Raeken,” Stiles moves the other firefighter away who chuckles under his breath. He yanks his shoes and socks off, not wanting to walk around with wet, squishy shoes. Because, ew. He takes his phone and wallet out of his shorts, handing them to his captain.

"I bet I can last longer," his partner smirks.

Stiles looks over his shoulder, "excuse me?"

“Ten bucks says I can last longer than you,” Theo dares, having followed his lead with his shoes and belongings.

“I’ll take that bet,” Isaac grins, “Stiles is too stubborn not to win.”

A hand claps his shoulder, Josh’s to be exact, “I’m with Isaac. Put me down for ten too, Cap.”

“I don’t know,” Liam joins in. Where the fuck did they all come from? “Theo is just as stubborn, I’ll put ten on Theo,” the probie pulls the bill out of his pocket.

Stiles gasps in exaggeration, “traitor.” Theo cackles, holding his stomach. “You’re on toilet duty for a week.” Liam pales at his words, looking to their captain for confirmation. Derek only nods. “What’s the time to beat?” Stiles asks, needing to know exactly what he’s getting himself into. Exactly how long until this is over.

“Three minutes,” Isaac informs him. “Any more bets? Ten bucks on Stiles or Theo for three minutes!” Money practically goes flying. Both from their team and just people standing around. He glares at his best friend. “What?” Isaac snickers, “it’s for a good cause!”

“I hate you,” he grumbles, joining Theo by the tub. Three minutes. Just one hundred and eighty seconds and it’ll be over. Provided his fellow firefighter doesn’t bitch out first. He just has to out last Theo.

“Last the full three minutes and you two can go home for the day." That's certainly a nice incentive. On your mark,” Derek sets the stop watch. “Get set!” Theo smirks and winks at him as they each grab the tub. “Go!”

The jump into the ice water and Stiles’ yelp is so loud it might as well have been a scream. Theo is behind him gasping his breaths. His bones feel cold and the shivers are instant. It’s too cold to think, let alone speak. And Stiles can’t remember the last time he and Theo were this closer. He’s practically in the guy’s fucking lap, skin being stabbed by numerous icicle knives.

It actually hurts. 

“Two minutes to go,” Derek announces.

Stiles yells, gripping the edge of the metal tub so hard his fingers hurt. His teeth are chattering and his toes have gone numb. Theo’s arms wrap around him, pulling Stiles close. As cold as they are, what little body heat they have left to share helps. Why is Theo helping him?

“Come on, baby,” Theo shakes behind him, “you can do this.”

Come on, who now? 

Great, Stiles is so cold he's hearing things. He pinches his eyes closed, fighting to not dive out of this torture chamber.

“One minute left,” Derek sounds more excited than he should. Maybe it’s pride for his subordinates. Who knows. 

Stiles is grunting through his determination. Trying to convince himself that he’s not cold. Think warm thoughts. This is a hot tub, not a form of frozen torture. Yeah.

Theo chuckles, warm breath tickling his ear, “just one more minute, babe. You’ve got this, I know you do,” his thumb brushes soothingly along his stomach. 

He’s too cold to comment- to comprehend Theo holding onto him for dear life. For calling Stiles baby and being nice. For the way that Theo’s breath affects him like that, for the second time today. It’s too much to deal with on top of this fucking ice. 

Places that shouldn't be cold are freezing. Everything hurts. His brain feels like it might explode or have a system meltdown. 

God, why did he agree to this? 

“Ten, nine, eight…” Derek chants, the audience joining in all the way to, “three, two, one! New record!”

He never put money down. He lasted the three minutes he was challenged. He needs out. Stiles needs to run away as best as his frozen limbs will allow. He clambers out of the tub as quickly as possible, pausing only for the second it takes him to grab his belongings from the table.

Stiles runs.

Not caring in the slightest about the sticks and small stones poking the soles of his bare feet. Dodging people as best as can, finding the firehouse’s tent blissfully empty. Stiles’ entire body is trembling. Running like that did nothing in terms of helping Stiles warm up. Thousands of needles stab at his fingers and toes, teeth chattering away.

“Come on,” Stiles groans, looking about the tent. There isn’t a single towel or blanket here? “Am I fucking blind?” He hugs his arms tightly to his chest, trying to keep his core warm. He knows he brought a bag with a change of clothes, so, “where the fuck is it?” Stiles looks under the small cot, ready to give up and just go home in wet clothes. Derek said they could leave after, he plans to go home and not have to deal with any of this.

At all.

“There you are,” Theo says. When he looks up to face his partner, Stiles is met with warm fabric being thrown around him. Theo grabbed him a towel. Not something he expected from the other firefighter, that’s for sure. Nor is the way Theo pulls him close and says, “I can warm you up if you let me, baby,” while rubbing his arms.

It does help. Stiles can’t deny that. But his brain is back online now and Theo calling him baby is so fucking far from normal. Or something the firefighter can begin to comprehend. “What the hell?” He pulls back, wiping the dripping water from his hair. “Why do you keep calling me baby and babe? You hate me,” Stiles states. 

“No, I don’t,” Theo scoffs. Like the very suggestion is ludicrous. As if they’ve had a single truly friendly conversation in over ten years. That Stiles is simply speaking nonsense.

Not to Stiles he isn’t.

“Yes, you do.”

“Right,” Theo chuckles, “I hate you so much that I show up to the station ninety minutes early just so that we can work out together.” Stiles tries to rebuke the statement, but the other presses on. “I leave only once you do because your deathtrap of a jeep rarely starts and I want to make sure you’re safe all because I hate you.” Theo gets in his space again, pounding Stiles’ heart. “I hate you so much that I would ask Derek to partner us together so that we have time to be around each other. I would risk freezing to death just for the chance to hold you because I hate you, right?”

Stiles’ mind is reeling with all of the information it was just given, “but-”

“I’ll prove it to you right now that neither of us has a shred of hatred for the other,” Theo challenges, eyes zeroed in on Stiles’ mouth. 

Defiant to his last breath yet swallowing with a click, Stiles says, “okay,” ready for the other firefighter to do nothing but prove himself wrong. 

Theo puts a hand at the small of his back, pulling Stiles close and crushing their mouths together. The soft noise in the back of his throat is unmistakable and Theo knows it because his groan was just the same. His fingers dig into Stiles’ waist, keeping him close to deepen their kiss. His tongue does a wonderful job of making Stiles dizzy. The last ten plus years, he could’ve been kissing Theo instead of biting him with his words. The childhood crush that never left his heart could have had a proper home there.

What an idiot.

Pulling back for air, Stiles looks up at blown blue eyes. Theo’s having just as hard of a time breathing, but keeps his satisfied smirk in place. “I never hated you, babe,” Theo whispers, kissing him softly, thumb gently brushing his cheek. 

“I-” Stiles clears his throat, curling his fingers in the hem of Theo’s soaked shirt. To physically hold something to remind him that this is real. To keep him from falling off the earth. “I don’t think I did either.” 

“I know,” Theo smirks, “so how about I take you home with our brutally earned free time?”

Stiles starts to nod yes.

“Cap,” Isaac yells out of nowhere, “you owe me twenty bucks!”

The rest of the team shows up, cheering them on. Each with their own versions that they knew all along. Theo flips them off, smiling as he kisses him again. Stiles just chuckles into his mouth, happy to be in Theo’s arms again with the unspoken promise of so much more once they get out of here.

[notanettelmao]

Pack Mentality pt. 2

Also on AO3

(Teen Wolf rewrite)

Fandoms: Teen Wolf, Supernatural Warnings: usual TW stuff, usual SPN stuff... Pairings: Stiles Stilinski x reader Words: 1,2k

<<;back // next>>

Scott and Stiles were getting their lunch while Y/N had already gone to find a table to eat their food at. The guys were whispering as they slowly made their way over to her. Scott set his tray on the table and took off his backpack before sitting down, Stiles doing the same sitting across from him right next to Y/N. 

“Something happened last night and I can’t remember what,” Scott said as he stared at his food. Y/N looked up from her phone and blinked a few times.

“Yeah, you said that already.”

“What makes you sure that Derek even has all the answers?” Stiles asked, ignoring Y/N’s comment.

“Because during the full moon he was in full control while I was running around attacking some totally innocent guy,” Scott poked his food with a fork. Y/N looked back down at her phone not really paying attention to the conversation between her two friends. She was sure Stiles would repeat everything to her later anyway. 

“I can’t go out with Allison. I have to cancel.”

“You’re not canceling, okay? You can’t just cancel your entire life! We will figure it out.” Stiles gestured to himself, Y/N and Scott with his hand as he was talking. Suddenly someone slammed their tray on the table, making all three of them jump.

“Figure out what?” Lydia asked. Y/N frowned. What was she doing, sitting with them? She quickly turned her head to look at Stiles, rolling her eyes when she noticed how he was staring at Lydia. 

“Homework,” she answered quickly, smiling at Lydia - it looked more like a face someone would make after licking a lemon. More people started sitting down at their table, making Y/N shift in her seat. She wasn’t comfortable around all these wannabe cool kids. Y/N watched Jackson kick one of the people out of their chair so he could sit down. 

“I’m giving this ten minutes. Then I’m leaving,” she mumbled to Stiles. He didn’t respond though, making her sigh. 

“So, I hear they’re saying it’s some type of animal attack. Probably a cougar,” Danny broke the silence at the table.

“I heard a mountain lion,” Jackson said.

“A cougar is a mountain lion,” Y/N said at the same time as Lydia, both sounding annoyed. Both of them then looked at each other making eye contact. Danny and Jackson stared at Lydia, visibly confused.

“Isn’t it?” Lydia then asked, making Y/N raise an eyebrow at her and then frown. Why was she playing dumb? Y/N shook her head and looked back down to her phone, ignoring anything else being said by the people around her. She was going through articles about the mysterious black goo appearing all around America. She was sure all of those cases were leviathans. She hoped her brothers had everything under control. 

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

“You’re a terrible bowler!” Stiles said loudly after the three friends left the cafeteria. Y/N was laughing next to him as Scott groaned.

“I know! I’m such an idiot!” 

“It was like watching a trainwreck! First, it turned into the whole group-date thing, and then out of nowhere comes that phrase-” Stiles continued.

“Hang out,” Y/N said, nodding. Scott rolled his eyes.

“Yes. Thank you.” Stiles said and then looked back at Scott. 

“You don’t hang out with hot girls, okay? It’s like death. Once it’s hanging out, you might as well be her gay best friend,” Y/N frowned a little when she heard Stiles say that. Scott looked at her and then at his best friend.

“You and Y/N hang out.”

“That’s-” Stiles turned to look at Y/N for a few seconds and then back at Scott. 

“That’s not the same. Y/N’s not-” Stiles stopped talking when he noticed the look Scott was giving him. He was staring at Stiles with a slight frown, one eyebrow raised. Stiles blinked a few times, realizing what he was saying. He turned around to face Y/N, who was staring at her shoes pretending she wasn’t listening. 

“I-” he started but she looked up at him shaking her head. 

“No, it’s okay. I know what you meant,” she mumbled, putting on a fake smile. 

“No, you don’t-”

“I do Stiles. I know I’m not hot. And to be honest I’m glad. It means no one can be attracted to me. Which means fewer people to worry about, so you know..” She shrugged.

“I’m a Winchester. We don’t do relationships anyway.” She made a face and then motioned with her hand toward the door.

“I’m gonna go, I need to call my uncle.” That was a lie. Scott knew that, Stiles seemed to believe it tho. Y/N didn’t wait for them to say anything and just left. Scott waited till she was far enough, then he hit Stiles’ shoulder.

“Ouch! What was that for?” He asked, putting a hand on his shoulder, scared that Scott might hit him again.

“You are so dumb,” was all Scott said.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

Y/N walked all the way from the school to the Argents’ house. She looked around the streets of Beacon Hills trying to remember all the bookstores so she could go and search for some old lore books in case she needed them. She also decided to actually call Bobby when she got inside her room where she was sure no one could hear her.

As soon as she unlocked the door Y/N ran up the stairs ignoring Chris staring at her from the doorway to the kitchen. She slammed the door behind her, threw her backpack at her chair, and plopped face-first on the bed with her phone in her hand. 

“Mhkay,” she mumbled after a while and rolled over so she laid on her back. She then finally pressed the call button on her screen. The phone beeped a few times. Right as the timer of the call popped up on her screen she started talking.

“Hey Bobby! I-” She was interrupted by a voice that didn’t belong to her uncle.

“Y/N, hi.” 

“Dean? Why do you have Bobby’s phone? What happened?” She sat up on the bed, ready to pack her things and run to help her family if needed. 

“Please don’t freak out. Everything is under control.” Dean was trying to calm her down, but not very successfully. 

“What happened?” She asked again. 

“Bobby was shot. By a leviathan. But he is okay. They saved him Y/N. We thought he wouldn’t make it, but he is okay and sleeping now.” Y/N got up from the bed and started pacing around her room. 

“He could have died? Why didn’t you call me?” She yelled.

“We wanted to, I swear! He told us not to.” Dean sighed. 

“I-...” Y/N teared up. 

“Okay, I’m gonna go. Tell him I said hi please,” she whispered, forgetting why she even called in the first place. 

“Yeah, will do. Bye Y/N/N,” Dean said. She could hear Sam saying bye in the background before she hung up. She took a deep breath and looked in the mirror. Research by herself it is then.

[fullmoans]

Home is a Fire | Part 5

They left Stiles out because they knew the nogitsune would tear him apart, but now the nogitsune is gone and Stiles can feel the nemeton telling him it isn’t over — not for him. And maybe not for Derek either.

Scott’s house wasn’t as full as it had been the last time Stiles had visited. When Melissa let him inside, there was no one downstairs. Inside of Scott’s childhood bedroom, only Lydia, Allison, and Scott remained.

“So, Jackson didn’t feel like sticking around any longer?” It was Lydia who recognized Stiles’s voice first and turned to answer him where he stood in the doorway.

“It was something to do with work. I’m honestly not very sure what he does for a living so I didn’t ask.”

“I’m glad you came back. We’re leaving tomorrow and I was worried I wouldn’t get to see you before then,” Scott said, standing from where he sat on the corner of the bed. Stiles could tell he meant what he was saying but he was like a puppy. He was too concerned with what was right in front of him to be interested in anything else that was going on.

“Listen guys, there’s more going on than what you think. Peter and I,” and he was cut off.

“What, you’re hanging out with Peter now? You hate Peter,” Lydia said, rising to her feet as well.

“Would you just listen to me? I know everyone has their own things going on but this isn’t over.” Stiles was getting frustrated. His old friends had a habit of thinking they always knew better than him. Maybe it was because of his humanity. Maybe it was because of how obvious his PTSD became in the years before he left Beacon Hills for good. They were treating him like he wasn’t the only one of them still risking his life regularly running into burning fires.

“Of course, Stiles,” Allison said, “Talk.”

So Stiles talked. He told them about his dreams, his conversation with Cora, the library that he found with Peter, and the books. He told them again about Derek’s traumatic past and his own experiences with the nemeton when he was possessed.

“Those tendrils of light.. We saw those when we brought Allison back. It wasn’t the nemeton that sent me the instructions on how to do it though, it was the nogitsune,” Lydia said.

“I don’t think the nogitsune has anything to do with this. He was in the nemeton long enough to have figured out how to trap Allison in it but he died. I can’t feel him. When I reach out to the nemeton, I know he’s gone. Derek, I can feel.” Stiles was trying to put the pieces together but he still couldn’t answer the biggest question. “I keep seeing this phrase, ‘What’s taken is returned.’ It was in my dream last night and it was in one of my books this morning. I brought it with me.” Stiles shrugged off his jacket in the warm bedroom and took the book out of one of the large pockets. He gave it to Allison. “You were inside. Maybe you know what it means.”

Allison took the book from Stiles’s hands and looked through it. He had folded down the corner of the page he found that morning.

“It doesn’t mean anything to me, Stiles. I don’t remember being inside. I closed my eyes when the Ony stabbed me and opened them here.”

Lydia reached out towards Allison, beckoning for the book. Allison gave it to her. Stiles felt like time slowed as Lydia touched the book and something happened to her. The look on her face became worried as she wrapped her hand around the spine of the book and once she firmly gripped it, she slid down to her knees and looked straight at Stiles. She screamed. Suddenly, Allison, Scott, and Stiles were on the ground around her, calling her name. Stiles was in front of her, holding both of his hands to her cheeks. He pressed his forehead against hers like he’d done every time she had needed him in Portland. After a few moments, her scream stopped, but she was still fixed by something.

“She needs to draw,” Stiles said, looking down to the hand which wasn’t grabbing the book as it moved in some kind of pattern. “Paper, Scott, paper!” Scott scrambled to the desk and found a used notebook from highschool. He really needs to clean out this room, Stiles thought as Scott opened the notebook to a blank page and put it under Lydia’s hand. He must have grabbed a pen from the same desk because Stiles saw him grab Lydia’s hand and firmly place a pen in it, wrapping her fingers around it.

Lydia dropped the book and stilled. Stiles and Allison moved away from her, giving her just enough space to move. She hunched over the notebook on the floor and began to write. Stiles could make out the words easily. He’d just said them. What’s taken is returned. The nemeton requires a sacrifice. We give unto thee to receive tenfold. What’s taken is returned. What’s given is rewarded. She wrote them all over the page, flipped it, and continued on a new page. She went back over some of the letters. Others, she spaced out too far to be a coincidence. It went on for what felt like an hour as Stiles, Scott, and Allison stood together, in the doorway, and watched.

Xx

Lydia gasped when she finally stopped writing and looked up at Stiles and their friends. She looked back down at the notebook and dropped the pen. Stiles was the first to move, kneeling down in front of her. “Are you okay?”

“I think so. Something happened when I touched that book. I think it remembers all of us.”

“The books?” Scott asked.

“No, the nemeton. I saw you go under the ice water. I saw Derek and Paige on the nemeton. I saw five people in hoods standing around the nemeton. I think they were us.”

“But there are only four of us,” Scott added, again, helpfully.

“The fifth person,” Stiles started, “it has to be a Hale, I think. Lydia is connected to the nemeton by her abilities. We are connected to it by our sacrifice. Someone has to be connected to Derek.”

Allison, while listening to the rest of them talk, had taken the notebook and begun to rip out the pages. She was placing them around on the floor. Stiles noticed and stepped back to give her more room. She laid all twenty pages out on the floor, 4 pages tall and 5 pages wide, in just the order that Lydia had drawn them. The white spaces between words showed a picture. “What is it?” Lydia asked, noticing Allison had finished laying out the pages.

“It’s the nemeton,” she said. And it was. The white spaces between words painted a very simple outline of the nemeton from above. The bolded letters that Lydia had drawn were only outside of the image. Stiles looked closer at the letters, looking for a pattern.

Sacrifice, unto, tenfold, tenfold, nemeton, unto, tenfold, and so on. The bolded letters left a message.

FULL MOON. HALE. SACRIFICE. REWARD. RETURN.

The message repeated around the shape of the nemeton.

“It looks like you won’t be leaving so soon, Scott,” Lydia said.

Xx

Stiles, Scott, Allison, and Lydia sat on the floor of his own childhood bedroom, looking up at his map. He’d added Lydia’s message and the words from the book. So far, they knew that they would have to go to the nemeton on the full moon, potentially wear cloaks, choose a Hale to go with them, and possibly spill someone’s blood.

“I don’t understand. Why would Derek be trapped in the nemeton?” Scott asked.

“It has to be something to do with Paige. Both Stiles and I have seen her now,” Lydia said.

“Paige’s death activated the nemeton. At least, her virgin blood touching it did. It brought it back to life, like life support, until the three of us sacrificed ourselves to it,” Stiles added.

It was Allison who spoke next. “The nemeton requires a sacrifice. We give unto thee to receive tenfold. What’s taken is returned. If the nemeton requires a sacrifice, then it was Paige. She was what was taken. Shouldn’t she be the one returned?”

“A life is what was taken. A life is what’s returned.” This new voice came from outside of Stiles’s now opened window, but no face accompanied it. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see who had spoken. Stiles recognized the woman’s voice. More importantly, the only people that ever came in through his bedroom window always seemed to be Hales.

“Cora,” Stiles whispered, “you got here fast.”

Scott, Allison, and Lydia’s eyes widened in surprise as they looked to Stiles’s window just in time to see Cora Hale, wearing all black leather that matched her glossy dark brown hair, step in gracefully, yellow eyes flashing.

[maria021015]

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 24 AHEAD!

“Hey, Mrs McCall!” Zaida spotted the woman and called out to her in the parking lot of Beacon Hills High, quickening her pace to catch up to Scott’s mom. She’d caught a ride with Stiles and had lagged behind to message Lydia about where to meet.

“Zaida,” The curly-haired woman nodded to her politely in greeting, though there was a slight hesitation, likely due to her newly acquired knowledge.

“How are you doing?” Zaida asked, her tone sympathetic as she fell into step beside the nurse. She purposely framed the question so that the woman could choose if she wanted to keep the conversation surface-level or delve deeper.

“I’ve been better,” Melissa half-smiled, continuing on her way into the school building. “I suppose you’re in all of this too, then? Are you…?”

“A werewolf?” Zaida offered but shook her head in slight amusement. “No, I’m not like Scott. I’m something else.”

“Right…because of course there’s more.” She muttered, appearing to be quite overwhelmed by it all.

“It’ll be okay. It’s a lot to handle at first, but it does get better.” Zaida gave the woman a comforting smile. “And it’s not always like the other night. That’s actually the worst it’s gotten so far.”

“How can you sound so…okay with it? Like it’s normal?” Mellisa questioned, taken aback by the girl’s casual attitude.

“Because by now, it kinda is,” Zaida shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not easy. But I’d rather know the truth than be kept in the dark wondering. Wouldn’t you?”

Melissa was silent for a moment, pondering her answer before nodding in agreement. “I guess you’re right.” she pushed open the door to the boys’ locker room and stepped inside, looking for her son.

Zaida raised a brow at the - thankfully already suited-up - players, averting her gaze but following after the woman, wondering why no one really cared that they were there. She spotted Danny talking to a zoned-out Jackson, his eyes somewhere far away until snapping back to reality and responding to the goalkeeper in a stern manner. Zaida wished she would have been close enough to hear what the boy was saying because Danny seemed…concerned. She wound her way through the crowded benches and turned just before she bumped right into one of the people she was looking for. Stiles yelped and jerked backwards, clutching his jersey to his bare chest.

“What are you doing here!” He exclaimed, turning around so she only had a view of his back - pale and splattered with tiny moles - whilst he dressed.

“What are you covering, Stiles? You don’t have boobs, remember?” Zaida pointed out, snickering at his reaction. “Plus, don’t you need to put your Lacrosse pads on under that?”

“I’m-” He began defensively, then realised she was right. “I knew that.” The boy scowled at her and hurried away to finish putting on his gear - in the right order, this time.

“Last I checked, Zaida, you don’t play Lacrosse.” Danny flashed his winning smile at her, and she winked at him in response.

“Are you guys in the market for a cheerleader? I look great in burgundy and short skirts.” She jested playfully. It had been a while since she’d spoken to Danny, what with the boy being so preoccupied with Jackson’s odd behaviours since the breakup with Lydia.

“Sorry, but I don’t think that would be in the best interest of the team. You might distract some of our players.” The boy snorted, shooting a glance towards Stiles who was further down the row of lockers and benches behind her. He was just finishing pulling on his lacrosse pads and tightening them in a frantic manner.

“Right,” Zaida brushed off the unusual comment, shifting her focus to what she’d witnessed earlier. “How’s our resident Jackass doing?”

“He’s…not himself. At all. I have no idea what’s going on with him because he won’t talk to me other than weird vague warnings that sound almost like threats.” Danny furrowed his shapely brows, his stress was evident in his heavy sigh.

“Warnings like what?” She prompted, head tilting in curiosity and hoping her line of questioning wasn’t too obviously suspicious.

“He told me to stay in the goal and that if he starts coming towards me I should run. I don’t even know what that means.” Danny shook his head and Zaida’s heart skipped a beat. Stiles had been right. Gerard was definitely planning something tonight. Someone was going to get hurt…or worse. She needed to warn them. Her hair whipped over her shoulder as she turned to find Stiles, her eyes landing on him as the team began to crowd together in front of the door to Coach’s office. She excused herself from Danny and ducked under taller players’ arms to squeeze into the spot between Stiles and Melissa.

“Good morning!” Coach Finstock boomed, getting all of their attention with his dramatic attitude. “In less than an hour, aircraft from here will be joining others from around the world…and you will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind."

“What?” Mellisa screwed up her face in confusion. Zaida mirrored the expression because…what?

“Mankind - that word should have new meaning for all of us today.” Coach continued his speech as if he were staring in a movie and the rent on his apartment was overdue, speaking into a tiny volume amplifier.

“What the hell is he talking about?” Mrs McCall looked around for the reactions of the players, noting how strange it was that no one identified this as something out of the ordinary.

“He does this every year.” Stiles rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“We are fighting for our right to live!” Finstock rallied morale and the team responded back with a rowdy cheer. Something about the words rang a bell for Zaida; she could have sworn she’d heard them before.

“Wait, is this...?” Melissa began, also noticing that tugging familiarity.

“Oh my God,” Zaida’s eyes widened, and she stifled her laughter as she recognised exactly what was going on.

“Yeah. It's the speech from ‘Independence Day’.” Stiles confirmed with a dip of his chin. “It's Coach's favourite movie.”

“That is so…fitting for him, somehow.” Zaida grinned from ear to ear, absolutely relishing in the moment as the man continued in the most passionate voice she’d ever heard from him.

“He doesn't know any sports speeches?” Melissa raised a brow.

“I don't think he cares,” Stiles explained with a shrug, glancing at Zaida, who was having entirely too much fun right now. He shook his head at her with a glint of amusement in his eyes as he watched her reaction. “You are such a geek."

“And?” She challenged. “So are you.”

“Today, we celebrate our Independence Day!” Finstock finished off strong and as the team cried out in celebration, Zaida joined. She cupped her hands over her mouth to magnify her voice and whooped cheerfully as Stiles continued to shake his head. Her buzz was instantly dulled when Gerard made his way into the fray through the doorway, nudging Coach aside with a hand to the shoulder.

“Well spoken, Coach. I might have chosen something with a little more historical value, but there's no denying your passion.” The old man began, his eyes scanning over the room slowly as he spoke far more eloquently than Finstock. “And, while I haven't been here long, there's no denying my pride in having a winning team for this school. I know you'll all be brilliant tonight, even with only one co-captain leading you.” His gaze landed on Scott to drive in the impact of his words. “Now, I'm your principal, but I'm also a fan... So, don't think I'll be content to watch you merely beat this team. Get out there and murder them.”

Zaida’s blood ran cold, and she stood frozen between Stiles and Melissa - the three of them and Scott being the only ones to truly understand the meaning of this visit. It was a blatant threat. “You heard the man! Asses on the field!” Finstock yelled out his instructions and the team dispersed in high spirits, leaving Scott to find his way up to Coach to ask what Gerard had meant by ‘only one co-captain’.

“He’s benched Scott,” Zaida turned to Stiles with worry in her hazel eyes, trying to collect her frantic thoughts. “Danny told me Jackson warned him…Stiles, something is happening. Something big.”

“Yeah…I know.” Stiles jittered nervously; his tone ominous.

“Stiles, please, you need to be careful. If you see something happening, don’t get involved. Just run.” She pleaded with him, pulling him by the arm away from Melissa to have a more private conversation. “Just run, and find me, okay? I don’t care what else happens, just promise me you’re going to look out for yourself.”

“What about Scott? I can’t just leave him to deal with it,” The boy protested in hushed tones, his heart warming at her concern in a way that felt completely foreign.

“If something happens to Scott, he’ll heal. I’ll heal. You won’t.” Zaida pointed out, her emotions rising to her chest, feeling as though she might burst from the pressure. “Just...please, run. I need to know you’re going to be okay. We already lost Allison…I’m not going to lose you too.”

“I’ll be okay,” Stiles nodded, not quite giving her the answer she wanted as he reached out to brush a stray piece of hair out of her eyes and tuck it behind her ear. “You just watch out, alright? Stay with Melissa and Lydia, and my dad is gonna come find you.”

Any more words Zaida could think of were stuck in her throat as dread sank heavily into the pit of her stomach. He started to pull away, but she couldn’t let him leave like that, so she reached out and grabbed his wrist, turning him back towards her and flinging her arms around his neck to pull him close. Stiles stiffened for a moment, unsure of how to respond before he returned her hug, his arms wrapping around her waist. The reassuring pressure of the embrace calmed her and yet simultaneously her heart raced. When she dropped from her tiptoes, her arms sliding away from him, Stiles was the first to step back, following the line of his teammates as they exited the locker room. It left Zaida standing there with anxiety bubbling within her. Scott stood a few feet away watching her with a curious expression, and she felt her cheeks flush slightly in embarrassment at being caught by the boy in such a vulnerable moment. She lifted her guards back into place and shot him a half-smile before walking out and making her way towards the bleachers.

“Oh, no…” Stilinski craned his neck to get a better view of Stiles as he ran out onto the grass. “Why is my son running out to the field?”

“...Because he's on the team?” Melissa suggested as Zaida twisted her hands in her lap. This was even worse than she’d originally thought. It had been bad enough when Stiles was sitting on the bench, now he’d actually be playing?!

“He's on the team…He's- he's on the field...” His father mumbled in disbelief as the fact settled in. His expression then shifted into pure excitement and pride as he shouted shamelessly, “He's on the field!”

Zaida sent Lydia a small smile when the girl joined them, looking as beautiful as ever. She immediately picked up on Zaida’s nervous ticks and covered the girl’s fidgeting hands with her own in a soothing manner. “I thought you didn’t care about Lacrosse?” She questioned with an amused smile as the brunette’s eyes trailed after the number twenty-four jersey.

“What can I say, I found my school spirit tucked away in the back of my closet, along with this super cute coat.” Zaida drawled sarcastically but genuinely appreciated the redhead’s support.

The two captains huddled together for the scrimmage, the referee’s whistle rang out, and the game was afoot. Stiles got off to an incredibly slow start, finally scooping up the ball only to get tackled by not one, but two burly opponents. “...He's probably just warming up.” Melissa tried to be polite in front of Sheriff Stilinski.

Zaida hissed through her teeth as she watched, feeling the impact in her chest as her breath seemed to be knocked out of her. She re-centred herself quickly, pushing her blocks back into place. She didn’t know why, but Stiles always managed to make his way back in. It was incredibly difficult to disconnect from him, but she finally managed it when the boy was once again in possession of the ball, but he swiftly dropped it and it was snatched up by the opposing team.

“Oh, he's just a little nervous.” To Zaida’s surprise, even Lydia was being encouraging. She looked at the girl strangely. “Plenty of time to turn it around.”

As the timer kept clicking over while the minutes passed by, Stiles continued to fumble about the field relatively uselessly, not making many good passes and getting knocked into before he could contribute to any plays. He even got hit right in the helmet grate when trying to catch a solid pass from Rodriguez. Zaida spied Scott from the corner of her eye, standing up but being put back in his place by Coach. As her focus momentarily switched from Stiles to the bench, she noticed a familiar head of light brown curls approaching the field from the parking lot, her spine straightening in shock.

“I’ll be right back,” She excused herself and almost stumbled over her own feet as she hurried down from the bleachers to intercept the boy. She took in his Lacrosse uniform and the determination in his blue eyes. “You’re here.” She stood in front of him, suddenly unsure of why she’d even come down and feeling incredibly awkward. They hadn’t spoken since the rave.

“Yeah, I am.” He nodded, seemingly surprised that she was even speaking to him. It was the most civil she had been towards him in a long time.

“Are you here for Derek? Or for us?” She asked, a part of her needing to know.

“I’m here for Scott.” He corrected. “To help win. But…I could be here for something else - someone else, if that’s what you want?” His words this time were genuine, with none of that arrogant smirk to be seen. Right now, it was as if she was talking to the Isaac that had been hers. She hesitated, not knowing what she wanted for a split second, until - for some strange reason - she remembered the boy on the field right now.

“No,” She shook her head with a sad smile, feeling that chapter of her life come to a close. “But I’m glad you’re here. For Scott. To help.”

Isaac nodded in acknowledgment of her decision, respecting and accepting it graciously. “Well, I better get out there. Take care of yourself tonight, Zaida.”

“I will,” She agreed and watched him go for a moment before returning to her seat beside Lydia. The girl raised her brow in a curious expression.

“Is that starting up again?” The redhead asked with a mischievous tone.

“No, it actually just ended.” Zaida smiled, comfortable with the closure she’d now gotten. “What did I miss?”

“Just more losing,” Lydia shrugged, and surely enough they were several points behind on the scoreboard. Isaac jogged out onto the field after spending some time whispering with Scott on the bench.

Zaida didn’t know what she was expecting from the boy, but him barging aggressively into his own teammates was not it. He was doing it in a way that could have looked accidental to the unknowing eye, but Zaida could tell it was purposeful. What was he doing? She couldn’t figure it out until Coach was forced to swap out the injured player for the next in line on the bench. The line that pretty much ended with Scott. It was only then that the realisation came to her. He was getting their own players pulled out until Coach had no other choice than to put Scott on the field. Okay, maybe they might win this one just yet.

Their odds were looking pretty good with Isaac on the field and Scott soon to join, it would at least be two on one, should Jackson lash out. Zaida’s growing confidence was snuffed out along with most of her hope when Jackson and Isaac both went down, and only one of them got back up. Isaac had to be carried off the field and away to the locker rooms by some of his teammates, but he was at least still alive, simply paralysed. Coach Finstock was faced with a choice. He could forfeit the game, or he could put Scott on the field. Zaida waited for his decision with bated breath, a sigh of relief escaping her when she saw number eleven standing up. At that point, Melissa got out of her seat to speak to her son and returned with a newfound resoluteness that hadn’t been there before.

“You can tell, can’t you?” Zaida asked the woman in hushed tones when she returned as Scott jogged out onto the field. “That something’s happening.”

“I told him not to do whatever he has to do. I’m in this now, whether I like it or not, and if I can do something to help you kids, I’m going to.” Melissa replied firmly, and Zaida beamed at the woman. For a moment, she reminded her of her own mother.

[satashiiwrites]

wip whenever

yeah this is getting long. No there’s no end in sight. Yes I’m enjoying the Sheriff’s POV.

Tagged by @outtoshatter for a wip whenever. Thanks for the tag lovely. Tagging (no pressure) @tkwritesdumbassassins @monsterrae1 @redhoodiskra @missanniewhimsy @whimsyswastry @kikiroo and how about @scoobybuddie. No pressure as always if you want to play along, this is just for fun.

Wip whenever banner by the talented @radio-chatter

Title: Suspicions, from the Firefighter!Derek AU series

Fandom: Teen Wolf, borrowing of a few characters from 911 Lonestar that pop in from time to time.

Working summary:

Noah had his suspicions about the Hale fire.  With Laura Hale dead and animal attacks increasing exponentially, he knows that Derek is not the problem but possibly an answer to the question of what is going on in Beacon Hills. 

Tags/warnings: timeline what timeline? ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE people! Firefighter!Derek (see series). Whump and angst for Derek! Sheriff Stilinski figures it all out, TW canon levels of violence and mayhem. FIRST DRAFT (ish).

Noah gets to go home at a regular time for once. Stiles is home and does the whole dog and pony show of being annoyed about his grounding, but he still makes dinner all the same—tofu stir fry and brown rice. 

His son is not punishing Noah for grounding him. He is quote-unquote “worried about his dad’s health” and giving Noah a heart-healthy meal to make up for all his dietary indiscretions when Stiles can’t monitor him. His son’s spies—Roberta and Bobbie—had told Stiles about the trips to the local diner for lunch three days in the last week. 

Even Claudia and her crunchy granola self would have said that the stir fry lacked flavor, if healthy, and was somewhat sad looking. Noah just tries to swallow without tasting it after the first few bites. 

“So, what’s new at school?” Noah asks, making conversation. 

“Not much.”  

Stiles is mostly pushing his own stir fry around his plate instead of eating it. Noah knows that Stiles actually likes the healthy food that he makes, so something is bothering his kid. 

“And Scott?”  

Hit landed. Stiles’ jaw clenches, and his eyebrow twitches, telling Noah that Scott is the source of Stiles’ current agitation. 

“He’s dating this new girl, Allison.”

“A new girl? “Allison, who? I don’t think you’ve mentioned her before.”

“Allison Argent. Her family just moved back to town—she lives in the Heights.”

The Heights was the wealthier part of town and a new subdivision that Mitchel Martin had developed about fifteen years ago. The last name Argent was familiar somehow but not ringing any immediate bells. However, the face his son had made told Noah that Stiles wasn’t one hundred percent happy that Scott was dating her. 

“Is this Scott’s first girlfriend?”

Stiles rolls his eyes at him. “You know it is, Dad.”

Ah. It looks like Melissa might owe him twenty bucks as she’d been sure Stiles would finally get a date from Lydia Martin before her son would find a girl, given Stiles’ five-year plan that they’d both laughed over. “Scott ditching you for her?”

His son huffs, annoyed, and waves his fork around in agitation, punctuating his speech. “Yeah. Everything’s Allison this and Allison that. Ohh Allison, you’re pretty brown eyes and long flowing hair.”

Noah nods. He remembers what it could be like when he and his friends first discovered girls (and boys). The rearrangement of priorities could strain even the strongest of friendships, and Stiles had picked Scott over Jackson in the third grade when Rafael and Melissa had divorced. Since then, it’d been Scott-and-Stiles for everything, and now it wasn’t, and Scott was leaving Stiles behind for a girl. 

“He ignoring you for her?”

“Yeah. He’s being stupid over her.”

“How so?”

“Doing stupid stuff, Dad. Showing off,” Stiles grumbles, then takes a vicious bite of tofu, jaw working the food aggressively. “Doesn’t think of consequences.”

“What kind of consequences?”

Stiles pauses, eyes dropping to his plate and suddenly fascinated by the little pieces of vegetables, and shrugs. “Just school and stuff.”

Noah suspects the ‘and stuff’ is more than just hanging out with Stiles and maybe explains why Stiles has been poking his nose into things he shouldn’t as of late. However, Scott had called the tip line, so where did Derek come into this?

“So, how’d you meet Derek Hale?”

Another direct hit—Stiles looks up at the mention of Derek’s name, and a faint creeping blush starts covering his son’s neck. “Just ran into him,” he squeaks. 

“And when was that?”

Stiles is again fascinated by his food. “A few days ago.”

Noah wonders if Stiles has figured out he plays for both teams yet.

“It was pretty cruel—what you and Scott did to him, accusing him of murdering his sister.”

Stiles has the good grace to look embarrassed. “Yeah. That wasn’t nice of us.”

“I expect better from you, kid.  She was his only family.”

The guilt he’s shoveling piles on and Stiles now is completely abashed about his actions. “I didn’t think.”

“Well, next time do.  You’re smarter than this. Think things through.”

“Yes, Dad.”

Figuring he’s made his point, Noah switches topics. “So what sort of report am I going to get tomorrow when I go to your teacher conferences?”

Stiles gulps. “Um… depends on what you’re wanting.”

“Turning in work on time, no behavioral issues,” Noah starts to list off.

“You uh… might want to redefine the no behavioral issues…”

Well, at least it sounds like Stiles is turning in his homework on time.

[sapphireginger]

Steo Day 2023: Fighting for Love

Happy Steo Dady 2023 Everyone!!!

@steodiscord

Summary:

Scott stared at Stiles like he had never seen him before. “So that’s it? You love him and therefore you condone his actions?!” “Better to condone than condemn. Some of us have to get our hands dirty when others of us…” he sneered, giving Scott a significant look. “…refuse to dip their toes into the morally gray area. It’s where I live Scotty and if you can’t accept that, then I guess yeah, that’s that.”

Stiles sat at his desk, feeling numb. He couldn’t believe what had just happened, but he knew he wouldn’t forget it any time soon. He closed his eyes and let the conversation from not more than an hour ago echo in his mind. 

“How can you defend him, Stiles?!" Scott demanded. "Your so called boyfriend tried to dissemble when I asked if he had killed Donovan, but the blood on his hands gave him away despite his denial."

With a serious expression on his face, paired with a sharp smile, Stiles looked up and didn’t cower in the face of Scott’s rage. "Why do any of us do anything? For love of course and Theo killing Donovan saved my life. So, of course, I'm glad he killed him and he told me right after he did it. What were you hoping to achieve by telling me this huh? Did you think I'd leave him or condemn him? Well, I won't because love is a battlefield and sometimes you pay with the blood of others or with blood of your own.”

Scott stared at Stiles like he had never seen him before. “So that’s it? You love him and therefore you condone his actions?!”

“Better to condone than condemn. Some of us have to get our hands dirty when others of us…” he sneered, giving Scott a significant look. “…refuse to dip their toes into the morally gray area. It’s where I live Scotty and if you can’t accept that, then I guess yeah, that’s that.”

Both teens were silent, the tension stifling until Scott flashed his eyes and shook his head as he took a step back. “Fine. I know how stubborn you can be. So I know you’ve made your decision but when the day comes where he breaks your heart, just remember I told you so and I won’t be there for you. For all I know he may kill you too.”

Stiles’s hands balled into fists and he snorted. “He won’t. You don’t know him.” Stiles scoffed, letting out a bitter laugh. “I think out of the two of us, we both know you’re not the one who’s there for people, Scott.”

Scott roared at him and in the blink of an eye, the pack bond snapped, leaving Stiles to cry out in pain. He collapsed to the ground shivering and shaking at the hollow feeling in his chest. “Scott?” he said, barely audible had it not been for the alpha’s supernatural hearing. 

“You’re no longer a member of my pack, Stiles. I won’t have someone in my pack who is in love with a murderer. I won’t endanger them. You made your choice. This is mine.” With that, the alpha disappeared out the window, ignoring his former friend’s tears and whimpers of pain. He had a pack to look after and to protect. 

Stiles felt a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing, and let the feeling anchor him to the present. His mind left the memory behind him as he turned in his desk chair to meet blue eyes full of concern. “Theo.”

“Hey, Bambi,” Theo whispered. He stepped forward when Stiles encircled his arms around the coyote’s waist and kissed the amber eyed teen’s forehead. “I’m not sorry I killed him but I am sorry about Scott.”

“Scott’s an asshole.”

Theo huffed. “No arguments here but he’s an idiot as well. That pack won’t last without its heart.”

Stiles looked up at the man he loved and tilted his head, resting his cheek against Theo’s stomach. “Its heart?”

“Mhm. You. Stiles, you’re the heart of that pack, the glue, the one who brought everyone together and kept everyone together. They’ll learn that the hard way and by the time they finally figure it out, it’ll be too late.”

“Did you hear back from Brett?”

Theo nodded. “Yes. He and Satomi have a place for us to stay and we are already enrolled at Devenford Prep.”

Stiles chuckled. “Look at us, going to a fancy private school all because I’m in love with you and my best—ex-best friend—won’t accept it.”

“His loss, my gain,” Theo replied with a smirk though his eyes held understanding and empathy. 

For a moment, Stiles hesitated to say the words on the tip of his tongue, but he chose to be brave. “I love you, Thumper.”

Theo inhaled sharply, his breath hitching almost painfully and he cupped Stiles’s cheeks, using his thumbs to brush the tears away. “Oh Bambi. I love you too.”

“Yeah?” Stiles said, his voice breathy and shaky. 

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other for what felt like hours, eventually migrating to the bed and curling up together. As Theo slipped into a doze, he heard the man he loved singing under his breath so softly that he could barely make out the words but he heard enough to understand a lot about the other teen’s state of being. 

Why does love always feel like a battlefield? A battlefield, a battlefield, a battlefield  Why does love always feel like a battlefield? Guess you better go and get your armor. 

Theo pressed a kiss to Stiles’s forehead, his nose, the corners of his eyes and then hovered an inch from pressing their lips together. 

Stiles’s honey eyes were glistening with tears as he met Theo’s eyes, a shade akin to light and pale Lapis Lazuli gemstones. “I never meant to start a war,” he whispered, his breath rattling in his chest. “You know I never wanna hurt you.”

“I know, Bambi,” Theo said, enveloping the mole spotted teen in a fierce and protective embrace. “I know.” 

Since they were transferring schools, neither of them had to go to school tomorrow and then it was the weekend anyway. So, after texting his dad, Stiles curled into Theo’s chest and sighed. He was determined to stay in this bubble of safety and love for as long as possible. 

Stiles felt rubbed raw, drained, flayed and exhausted. His heart hurt and his chest was empty of all but a single pack bond, a pack bond with Theo. Hot tears kept burning his eyes and he had to close his eyes in order to let the tears finally fall. He was grateful that Theo didn’t bring attention to it and simply held him tighter. He owed Theo a new shirt for how snotty and gross this one was getting but right now neither of them cared. 

Everything was going to change now, well almost everything. They’d be going to a new school, joining a new pack, moving to a new house—Sheriff Stilinski remaining here—making new friends and more. However, as Stiles slowly fell asleep, he knew one thing wouldn’t change, and that was Theo. He loved Theo, had fought for that love and as he told Scott, love was like a battlefield. You either pay with your own blood or someone else’s blood. Both Stiles and Theo have paid with blood. They’ve paid with their own blood and with the blood of someone else. 

✶ ⚔️ ❤︎ ⚔️ ✶

✶ ⚔️ ❤︎ ⚔️ ✶

[clotpolesonly]

Let Your Heart Be Light

for @sapphireginger and the Stiles Shipping Central monthly ficlet exchange!! apparently all of my Stallison fics are just going to be unrelentingly sappy and there’s nothing i can do to stop it, hope you don’t mind XD

| Stallison | Gen | 1.5k | Established Relationship | Polish Stiles | Christmas | Fluff | Family Feels |

(also on AO3)

.

It was snowing like crazy, but Allison hesitated on the stoop of Dobroniega Gajos’s home. Stiles turned back to frown at her; she had told him over and over again that she was built for warmer climates and would spend no unnecessary time in the open air if she could help it. Her nose and cheeks were bright pink, where her scarf wasn’t pulled up to cover them and the silly earflaps of her hat didn’t reach low enough, but still, she hesitated.

“You okay, alley-cat?” Stiles asked.

She dragged her eyes away from the door. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just…”

Stiles took her mittened hand in his. “She won’t bite, I promise. She’s had me talking her ear off about you for the last month and she can’t wait to meet you.”

“No pressure.”

“She will love you.” He brought her hand up to his mouth to kiss it, getting yarn fuzz in his mouth and not even caring. “Almost as much as I do.”

Allison’s concerned moue melted into a soft smile and she let him push the door open. Warmth billowed out to meet them, carrying with it the smell of cloves and beetroot. The small house was filled with people, only a handful of whom Stiles was actually familiar with. It had been years since he’d last visited his grandmother instead of her coming to the States. These were his cousins, he thought, or second-cousins. There was an aunt or two here somewhere and some niblings once- or twice-removed. They were all related somehow.

They all seemed to know him better than he knew them, at least, because everyone in sight swarmed in to greet him and hug him and kiss him on both cheeks. He let them, laughing and pretending he remembered any of their names, and it brought back a rush of memories. They used to come every year for Christmas back when he was a kid, when his mom was still alive. Those visits were a blur of coziness and cheer and the overwhelming feeling of family.

It took some doing to make it back to Allison’s side. She was smiling at a pair of maybe-cousins, letting them chat her ear off even though she probably could only understand every other word through their strong accents, but Stiles knew her well enough to see that it wasn’t an easy smile. She brightened up a bit when he wrapped his arm around her waist, and brightened even more when he proved more successful at understanding and participating in the conversation.

Stiles only had a minute to wonder what was wrong before a booming voice called out, “Tygrysek! Mój skarb!”

Stiles grimaced but turned to accept an all-encompassing hug from his grandmother. “Babciu, that name is so embarrassing.”

“Which one?” Allison asked, mouth quirking up already. “Embarrassing how?”

“Tygryseki,” Stiles grumbled. “It means—”

“Baby tiger,” his babcia finished, reaching up to pinch his cheeks with absolutely no remorse. “My ferocious little one, always sneaking, ready to pounce on someone unsuspecting.”

Allison covered her mouth with her hand, trying and failing to hide a snorting laugh. She sobered up when Babcia turned to her, but she didn’t have time to be nervous. Without hesitation, Babcia was hugging her too. Fiercely. For such a small woman—she barely came up to Stiles’ shoulder—Dobroniega Gajos was a force to be reckoned with.

She pulled back to hold Allison’s face in her hands. “Welcome to the family, moja droga.”

Allison looked a little dazed. “Happy to be here,” she said helplessly. She received a kiss on both cheeks before Babcia was off, making the rounds of all her guests like the matriarch that she was. Allison watched her go.

Stiles nudged her. “Are you?” he asked quietly. “Happy to be here? You look a little—”

“She’s really nice,” Allison cut in, another one of those tight smiles on her face but her hand tight on his arm.

“Allison.”

Her smile dimmed, but she didn’t say anything. Her eyes darted around the festive crowd, almost two dozen people all talking and laughing and making merry.

Stiles took her by the hand. He tugged her through the crowd until he found a guest bedroom—there was a suitcase open on the bed, but the room was empty currently, so he didn’t see the harm in borrowing it from its occupant for a minute or two—and she didn’t resist as he pulled her inside. She accepted a soft kiss.

“Now, what’s wrong?”

Allison looked like she might deny it one more time. Then, eyes glassy, she laughed.

“It’s so stupid,” she said. “Nothing’s wrong, I swear, it’s just— It’s really lovely here. Such a big happy family full of holiday cheer. It’s straight off a postcard, honestly.”

“But?”

“But…” She sniffed. “I don’t know, I guess it just hit me that I never had this. Anything like this, really. My family was just me and my parents, and sometimes…” She swallowed around the two names she never said anymore. Stiles let her. “And we were always moving around, lots of rental homes and stock furniture. And my mom wasn’t exactly the warm and cheery kind, you know?”

A stricken look passed over her face, just for a moment, and Stiles knew what she was thinking. That it was an insult to her mother’s memory to acknowledge the strictness of her, the utilitarian way she had operated, as if that made her less of a mother or meant that Allison had loved her less. He kissed the look off her face before she could get caught in that spiral.

“Loving the people you’re with doesn’t automatically make holidays great,” he said, thinking of the years after he’d lost his mom. Just him and his dad and a plastic table-top tree, store-bought turkey and football on the television. He’d loved his dad, but it hadn’t been fun, and it hadn’t been what he’d wanted.

Allison let out a shuddering sigh that she tried to turn into a laugh. “I guess I just watched too many Hallmark movies as a kid. Set my expectations way too high. I knew I was never going to have that big, loving family. I was always going to be disappointed.”

Stiles brushed Allison’s hair behind her ear. “But you do.”

She looked up at him, confusion on her face. “Do what?”

“You have that. The big, loving family,” he said. “Because you’re my family, and that means that mine is yours. Every single person in this house is your family now. Whether you want them or not, honestly, because my grandmother is not gonna let you walk out of here without some kind of homemade knitwear and a personalized cross-stitch. She asked me for your favorite colors weeks ago. I told her tangerine.”

A laugh burst out of Allison, startled and incredulous. It shook a tear loose. Stiles’ wiped it away. She grabbed his hand before he could take it away.

“I hate orange,” she said through a helpless smile.

“I know.”

“You’re the absolute worst. I hate you so much.”

Stiles stole another kiss, grinning against her lips. “I love you too, serduszko.”

Allison wrapped her arms around his waist. “What’s that one mean?”

“Old hag, but, like, fondly.”

“Shut up, it does not.”

“Would I lie to you?”

She buried her face in his chest, giggles overtaking her. Stiles was more than happy to let her laugh, pressing his nose into her sweet-smelling hair. His heart was so full he worried it might explode all over the lacy tchotchkes on the bedside table. He hoped whichever aunt was sleeping here wouldn’t mind him getting happiness goo all up in her open suitcase.

They were quiet for a minute, just settling into the embrace. Through the closed door, the chatter of a houseful of people washed over them. Somebody had decided to start caroling early. They weren’t very good at it, but they sounded like they were having a great time anyway. Allison’s thumb rubbed circles on Stiles’ side, shirt rucked up just a little so she could feel the warmth of his skin.

“Did your grandma really make me a cross-stitch?” she asked eventually, sounding small.

Stiles smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “She makes them for all her grandkids. Mine is, unsurprisingly, a tiger.”

He could practically feel Allison’s dimple against his shoulder. “What’s mine, do you know?”

“It’s a quiver full of flowers. And, no, I did not actually tell her to make it tangerine. It is in lovely shades of your actual favorite color, which is purple. You’re welcome.”

Allison pulled back to beam at him, all traces of sadness gone from her face. She was radiant in her happiness, exactly how Stiles liked her best. He kissed her until somebody knocked on the door to announce that they’d seen the first star and dinner was served.

Stiles took Allison’s hand once more. “Come on, then” he said. “Let’s go make you some new memories.”

.

the polish bits defined:

tygrysek = baby tiger mój skarb = my treasure, darling babcia = grandmother babciu = grandmother, affectionate address moja droga (to a female) = my dear serduszko = sweetheart

[nellyharrison]

come along, CH. 2

aka my rewrite of season 3A of Teen Wolf based on the question: what if Erica was best friends with Scott and Stiles from the beginning?

Stiles and Scott go to Heather's birthday party and leave early with some major revelations.  The pack learns what Isaac really saw the night the alpha pack attacked him, and where their packmates are being hidden.

CHAPTER TWO - CHAOS RISING (click to read on AO3)

Derek became more determined than ever to find Erica and Boyd after Isaac had been attacked.  Every day while the rest of the pack was at school, he and Peter were scouring the town for some clue as to where the wolves could be hidden away.  The rest of the pack continued with their patrol shifts after school, but no matter how many times they looked, no matter how many hours they spent searching, they never found anything.

Stiles had been starting to lose hope and was in desperate need of a pick-me-up when he ran into Heather.  She had been so excited to see him, the two immediately jumping into old stories from their time together in preschool.  Heather even took the time to apologize to Stiles for Erica’s disappearance, knowing how close the two of them had been.  When she ended the conversation with an offer for him to come to her birthday party, he couldn’t think of any reason not to go.  Convincing Scott to join him had been the harder task, but by the time Friday night came along, the two best friends were walking to Heather’s house.

“What?” Stiles suddenly asked.

“What?” Scott muttered, looking over at him.  “What do you mean, ‘what’?”

“I mean ‘what’, and you know what,” Stiles insisted.

“What ‘what’?” Scott retorted.

“That look you were giving!” Stiles accused.

“I didn’t give a look,” Scott replied.

“Oh, there was a distinct look, Scott,” Stiles told him.

“What look?” Scott wondered.

“The look that says that the last thing you feel like doing right now is going to a party,” Stiles clarified, and the minute the words left his mouth, he started to wonder if he was projecting his own feelings onto Scott.

“It just seems weird going to a different high school’s party,” Scott stated.  “But yeah, I guess I don’t really feel like going to a party with everything going on.”

“One drink, alright?” Stiles insisted.  “Just one so we can feel like normal teenagers.  You’ll be fine.  I went to nursery school with this girl, okay?  She promised to introduce us to all of her friends, so tonight, no pack drama, no Erica.  Tonight, we’re having fun.”

“You’re right,” Scott agreed.  “Let’s do this.”

They high-fived, then walked inside, looking around the party and recognizing absolutely no one.  Heather noticed them and called Stiles’s name, walking right up to him and kissing him.  He was shocked, but when she asked him to help her pick out a bottle of wine, he found himself agreeing and following after her.  He started reminiscing with her as they made their way downstairs, remembering how they would play hide and seek in the wine cellar when they were kids.  Before he could even finish the thought, Heather was pulling him in again, pressing her lips to his in a deep kiss.

At first, he decided to go with it.  He had a history with Heather, and while this turn of events was shocking, he couldn’t deny it felt good to be kissing someone as hot as her.  Her declaration that she wanted to not be a seventeen year old virgin for her birthday had him blinking in shock, but then she was kissing him again.  Her hands moved to his belt, and for a while, the blonde hair and black eyeliner tricked him.  For a few minutes, he could pretend that the lips on his were the ones he’d been dreaming about for months, but then he opened his eyes and the eyes looking back at him were blue, not brown.

“Wait, wait,” he insisted, pulling her hands away and bonking his head on the shelf behind him.  “Ow.”

“What’s wrong?” Heather asked.  “Have you never done it before either?”

“I- You- That’s not why,” he rushed out, blushing.  “Look, Heather, I’m really glad I ran into you, and that you invited me tonight, but I have feelings for someone else.”  He pinched his lips together when she took a step back, his hands releasing hers as he fixed his pants and belt.  “I should get Scott and go.  I’m really sorry.”

“No,” she shook her head.  “No, stay.  Seriously, I want you to stay.  I’m going to pick out a few bottles and I’ll meet you back upstairs, okay?”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Positive,” she nodded.  “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Okay,” he replied, patting her arm awkwardly as he scooted past her and made his way back upstairs.  Scott noticed him right away, walking over and asking him what happened.  “I’ll tell you later,” he decided, shaking his head.  “Can we just get out of here?  I changed my mind.”

“We just got here.  What about Heather?” Scott asked.

“She’ll have a better time without us,” Stiles muttered, walking towards the door and stepping outside with a sigh.  “I don’t know who I was trying to fool by coming here.”

“What are you talking about?” Scott questioned, following after him.  “You looked like you were enjoying yourself with Heather.”

“Yeah, until I remembered she wasn’t Erica,” Stiles admitted.  “I’m so messed up, man.  I could have lost my fricking virginity tonight, but I couldn’t do it because I’m strung out on my best friend - who might not even be alive.”

“Don’t,” Scott demanded, pushing at his shoulder.  “Don’t you dare say that.”

“Why not?” Stiles laughed dryly.  “Do you really think by not talking about it, we can magically will her into being the one that’s still alive?  Even if she wasn’t the one they killed, how are we supposed to save her?  We’ve had four months, and we can’t even find them!”

“Shut up!” Scott growled, tackling Stiles onto the yard next to them.  He pulled his hand back, ready to punch Stiles, but then he saw the tears in his best friend’s eyes and he lowered his fist.  He got off of him, laying on his back as he struggled with his own pent-up emotions.  “If we talk like she’s gone, it’s like we’ve given up on her.  I can’t give up on her.”

Stiles looked over at him, sitting up to get a better look before standing with a groan.  “You like her.”

“What?” Scott blinked.

“You like Erica too,” Stiles accused.

“Did you hit your head when I tackled you?” Scott questioned, standing up and starting to walk back to Stiles’s car.

“You’re not denying it!” Stiles pointed out, and Scott stopped in his tracks.  “You’re not denying it.  I can’t believe this.  Now you like her?”

“Oh you’re one to talk,” Scott snapped, facing him again.

“I knew it!” Stiles gaped.

“I didn’t say I liked her!” Scott shouted, walking away and not turning back until he’d reached the car.

“If you don’t like her, then why aren’t you trying to get back with Allison?” Stiles questioned, following after him.  He walked around to the driver’s side, but didn’t unlock the Jeep until Scott looked over at him.  “You can pretend you don’t like her all you want, but I know the truth.  If she’s alive, if we get her back, what are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing,” Scott shook his head.  “I’ve hurt Erica enough with my own selfishness and carelessness.  We both have.  If we get her back, the last thing I’m going to do is get in the way of whatever or whoever makes her happy.  I would hope you’d do the same.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stiles retorted.

“She broke up with both of us before she was kidnapped,” Scott reminded him.  “If we get her back, and she decides she wants someone else, are you going to be able to let her go?”

“I-” Stiles stammered, looking down at his car keys as he thought about it.  “If it made her happy, I’d do whatever she wanted.”  He glanced back up at Scott, sighing at the understanding he found on his friend’s face, then nodded and unlocked his car.  They both climbed in and silently drove back home.

Along the way, Scott got a text message from Allison.  She was convinced the bruises created some sort of pattern, and when she put her bruises next to Lydia’s she was sure the design meant something.  She took a picture of the two bruises and sent them to Scott, asking if he recognized it.  He didn’t, but he decided it would be best to talk to Derek about it, so they agreed to meet up Monday before school and drive over to the loft together.

The timing of their arrival at the loft was rather fortuitous, as Derek and Peter had just finished extracting memories from Isaac about his altercation with the alpha pack.  What Peter had seen was blurry and disconnected, but there was one detail that was abundantly clear.  Based on what Deucalion had told his captives, the pack only had until tomorrow night to save them.  Derek was so frustrated by this news, that when the four teens walked into his loft to show him the bruises, he was far from receptive.

“I don’t see anything,” he muttered, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Look again,” Scott requested.

“How is a bruise gonna tell me where Boyd and Erica are?” Derek demanded.

“It’s the same on both sides,” Scott pointed out.  “Exactly the same.”

“I don’t have time for this!” Derek exclaimed.  “A couple of bruises won’t help me find my pack.  Bring me something real, or stop wasting my time.”

“We all want to find Erica and Boyd,” Stiles interrupted.  “Stop being a dick.”

“He’s right,” Allison accepted.  “They’re just bruises.”  She tugged her sleeve down, glancing up at Derek before promising, “We’ll figure out if it means anything.”

“Yeah, and in the meantime, let us know if there’s any other way we can help,” Lydia added, leaning against Jackson when he walked up and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Thank you,” Derek grumbled awkwardly.  “We’ll need everyone’s help soon,” he admitted.  “We got some information from Isaac.  If we’re going to save them, we have until tomorrow night to do it.  For now, you all should get to school, but keep your phones on.  We may need to act fast.”

“Yes alpha,” Jackson and Isaac replied.  Scott and Stiles just nodded, leaving first with Isaac following after them.

“As if I ever turn my phone off,” Lydia muttered to Jackson, the couple making their way towards the door.

“Let me know if we’ll need my dad,” Allison offered, following them and leaving Derek with his uncle.

“I’ll keep my phone on too, just in case,” Peter added, smirking as he made his way to the door.

Before they even got to school, Derek had texted them all to report to Deaton’s after lacrosse practice.  It seemed the vet had figured out one last way to try to get a clearer picture of what Isaac had seen and where their packmate might still be hidden.  If they managed to figure out where they were, they might stand a chance of getting them out before the full moon the following night.

In Economics, Scott felt more confident with the material and even managed to impress Coach Finstock.  Since he couldn’t tease Scott, it made sense that the Coach would turn his attention to Stiles when the teen went to give a quarter and instead handed the teacher an arcade token.  It was a silly mistake, one Coach easily made jokes about, but only Scott knew the significance of the token.  He’d had one in his own box of belongings Erica had given back to him.  Stiles had been holding on to it all this time?

Halfway through class, the Sheriff appeared and pulled Stiles into the hall to question him about Heather.  It seemed she had been missing since her party, and all of her friends had claimed Stiles was the last person she had been seen with.  Stiles was honest with his dad, telling him about going into the wine cellar and then leaving her down there before leaving the party altogether.  His dad believed him, assuring him they wouldn’t stop looking for her, then sent him back to class.

Later in the day, Jackson and Lydia were sitting with Allison in the library.  The couple watched as the twins walked in, Lydia quick to point out the moment shared between Danny and Ethan.  Jackson made it clear he believed his friend could do better, then made a comment about how he didn’t like the way Aiden kept looking at Lydia.  Lydia eased his worries with a sweet kiss, the couple nuzzling noses when Allison finally looked over at them.

“You two are sickeningly adorable sometimes, you know that?” she joked.  Her attention was then grabbed by the coffee cup in front of her, and she lifted it up to see the symbol displayed in the logo.  “What if it’s not a symbol?  What if it’s actually a logo?”  She turned the cup towards them, but Jackson simply shrugged and started picking at his cuticles.

“It’s worth looking into,” Lydia encouraged Allison.

When the boys in the pack were done with lacrosse, they all packed into Stiles’s Jeep and Jackson’s car - except Scott who rode his motorcycle - and made their way to the vet clinic.  Derek was already waiting when they got there, and he quickly explained what the plan was.  It was risky, and would require bringing Isaac to a slow enough heart rate that he would be nearly dead.  Scott spoke up at this point, questioning whether this was the only choice they had left.  Isaac interrupted, making it clear he wanted to do whatever he needed to do in order to get his pack back.  He pulled off his shirt and climbed into the ice tub, taking a deep breath as the pack surrounded him.  Together, they plunged him under the water, fighting against his struggle to keep him beneath the ice-covered surface.

Finally, Isaac stilled, and they let him rise enough to the surface that he could speak while in the trance.  Deaton took control, starting to guide Isaac through his memories of the night he discovered where the alpha pack had hidden Erica and Boyd.  Isaac was able to give some general description, but then he started panicking as he remembered being found.  They were able to calm him again, and once more, Deaton encouraged him to share what he had seen.  Suddenly he was shooting upright in the tub, terrified of a threat that wasn’t there.  Derek began shouting at him, determined to get answers, but the rushed details Isaac revealed left them all stunned silent when he finally broke out of his trance.

He climbed out of the tub with help from Derek and Scott, Deaton and Jackson throwing towels over him so he could dry off and warm up.  “It’s, uh… B-Beacon Hills First National Bank,” he told them, now that he could remember the name.  “It’s, um, it’s an abandoned bank, and they’re keeping them locked inside, inside the vault.”  He glanced around at them when no one said anything and finally saw the looks on their faces.  Scott and Jackson looked ready for a fight, Allison and Lydia watching them with concern, while Stiles and Derek appeared conflicted and maybe a little sick.  “What?”

“You don’t remember what you said right before you came out of it, do you?” Stiles asked, his nose flaring as he tried to keep his composure.  When Isaac shook his head, Stiles sighed.  “You said when they captured you that they dragged you into a room and that there was a body in it.”

“What body?” Isaac shook his head, looking at the others.

“Erica,” Stiles answered.  “You said it was Erica.”

“I-I need a minute,” Scott muttered, pushing past them all and not stopping until he had stepped outside.  He gasped for air, feeling like his chest was constricting.  In fact, it felt like he was having an asthma attack.  He didn’t carry an inhaler anymore, so he stumbled back against the clinic wall, his knees giving out as he tried to steady his breathing.  It took him a few minutes and all of his focus, but eventually he was able to suck air into his lungs and push it back out again at a more regular pace.  He rubbed at his face, surprised to find tears there, before standing and making his way back inside.

“She’s not dead!” Derek was insisting when he returned.

“Derek, he said, ‘There’s a dead body.  It’s Erica,’” Stiles repeated, his voice flat and lacking the normal energy he had whenever he spoke.  “Doesn’t exactly leave us room for interpretation.”

“Then who was in the vault with Boyd?” Derek pointed out.

“Someone else, obviously,” Stiles sighed.

“Could the alpha pack have planted the memory of Erica just to fuck with Isaac?” Jackson suggested, his arm securely around Lydia to keep himself from blowing up.

“The girl on the motorcycle said that they could share memories, but that would mean they would need to have a memory of Erica dead in a closet, right?” Isaac muttered, but that alternative was worse than him just finding Erica.

“Maybe the girl in the vault was the girl on the motorcycle,” Lydia suggested.

“The one that saved Isaac?” Allison questioned.

“No, she wasn’t like us,” Isaac shook his head.  “And whoever was in the vault with Boyd was.”

“So it could be Erica,” Scott stated.

“Then why does Isaac remember seeing her body?” Jackson asked him, his tone remorseful.  He didn’t want to believe Erica was dead, but he believed what Isaac said he saw.

“What if that’s how Erica died?” Stiles mused, disgusted by the thought.  “They, like, pit them against each other during the full moons and see which one survives.  It’s like werewolf thunderdome.”

“Then we get them out tonight,” Derek decided.

“Be smart about this, Derek,” Deaton advised.  “You can’t just go storming in.”

“If Isaac got in, then so can we,” Derek insisted.

“But he didn’t get through a vault door, did he?” Deaton reminded.

“We need a plan,” Scott agreed with his boss.  He still didn’t want to believe Erica was dead, but if she wasn’t, and she was stuck in the vault with Boyd, she could die if they didn’t get them out in time.

“How are we gonna come up with a plan to break into a bank vault in less than 24 hours?” Derek questioned.

“Uh, I think someone already did,” Stiles announced, having already pulled out his phone to start researching the bank.  “‘Beacon Hills First National closes its doors three months after vault robbery,’” he read.  “Doesn’t say here how it was robbed, but it probably won’t take long to find out.”

“How long?” Derek asked.

“It’s the internet, Derek,” Stiles replied.  “Okay?  Minutes.”

“Right, well when you find out, text me and we’ll go from there.  I’ll do some investigating myself and we’ll reconvene after practice,” Derek decided.  He looked around at all of them, swallowing dryly when he felt the absence of the two members of the pack that should have been there.  “Go home.  Get some sleep.  Text me when you get back safely.  No one goes anywhere alone.”

“Yes alpha,” Isaac and Jackson immediately replied.

“Yes alpha,” Lydia repeated a beat late.  Allison gave her a small smile before nodding at Derek and starting to leave.

“Allison,” Derek called out, causing her to stop and turn back to him.  “We might need your dad’s help.”

“I’ll try to talk to him,” Allison nodded, glancing quickly at Scott before leaving the clinic.

Derek took a moment to thank Deaton for his help before following Scott and Stiles outside.  The three of them looked at each other for a minute, Derek opening his mouth like he wanted to say something, before he firmly closed it and stalked off to his car.  Scott and Stiles heard him whip out of his parking spot and drive away, then silently walked back to their own vehicles.  Scott followed Stiles back to his house, and they went right up to his room to begin researching the bank.  The sooner they got answers, the sooner they could get some sleep.

It turned out finding out how a bank vault had previously been broken into was not as easy as Stiles had expected it to be.  He and Scott were up all night researching the bank and the robbery, but they could not seem to find anything that would lead to a solid answer on how the robbery was pulled off.  They were still printing out files and articles to read when they both passed out from exhaustion, waking up mere hours later at the sound of the Sheriff’s booming voice.  Before he could leave, Stiles was calling for him and asking about Heather, but there was no update on that front either.

“Ten hours and nothing,” Stiles snapped, crumpling up one of the articles in his hand before trying to organize the mess of pages on his bed.

“We’re gonna find something,” Scott encouraged.

“Finding something doesn’t make Erica any less dead,” Stiles muttered.  “Or Boyd any less about-to-be-dead.”

“Well, we still have time,” Scott told him.

“Is this whole, like, ‘remain optimistic in the face of complete and utter disaster’ thing a part of the ‘be a better Scott McCall’ program?” Stiles asked.

“Uh, not if it doesn’t work,” Scott replied.

Stiles sighed, laughing softly before admitting, “No, it probably would have worked if…”

“If Erica wasn’t dead,” Scott finished for him.

“Yeah, not sure how you can look on the bright side right now,” Stiles nodded, swallowing dryly before glancing down at the page in his hand.  His eyes widened as he started calling for his dad, handing Scott the article on his way out of his room and downstairs.  His dad had been the one to arrest the bank robbers, which meant he would know how they broke into the vault.

They texted Derek when they finally got answers, promising to share everything when they got together after school.  As they parked outside, they ran into Allison and Lydia, and the four of them went inside together, where they met up with Jackson and Isaac.  None of them felt much like talking after the night before, so they went their separate ways and tried to get through their classes without incident.  When practice ended, they all went over to Derek’s, following Stiles as he carried a stack of papers in his hands.  He laid everything out on the table, and when Peter arrived, they started to plan.

First, Stiles and Scott explained what they had found out, not just from the Sheriff, but in their ten hours of research as well.  Stiles even had blueprints of the bank, allowing him to better explain how the robbers had gotten into the vault the first time around.  He made suggestions of how they should break in this time, but Derek dismissed his proposal of a drill.

“If I go in first, how much space do I have?” Derek asked.

“What do you- What do you think you’re gonna do, Derek?” Stiles replied.�� “You gonna punch through the wall?”

“Yes, Stiles, I’m gonna punch through the wall,” Derek confirmed.

“Oh this will be fun,” Jackson muttered.

“Okay, okay, big guy,” Stiles nodded, facing Derek, who was smirking.  “Let’s see it.  Let’s see that fist.  Big, old fist.  Make it, come on.  Get it out there.  Don’t be scared.”  Derek lifted his fist, and now Peter was rolling his eyes, Jackson draping his arm over Lydia’s shoulders as he waited in anticipation.  “Big, bad wolf.  Yeah, look at that.  Okay, see this?” Stiles asked, grabbing Derek’s wrist and then placing his hand in front of his fist.  “That’s maybe three inches of room to gather enough force to punch through solid co-”  Before he could finish his sentence, he had released Derek’s wrist, and Derek punched his hand with minimal restraint to show what kind of power he was capable of.  Stiles was thrown back onto the table, gripping his arm in pain as he glared at Derek and scurried away.  “Ah!  He could do it!”

Allison shook her head as she walked over to him, checking to make sure his hand wasn’t broken while the rest of the pack chuckled.  “I’ll get through the wall,” Derek assured them all, rolling his eyes when Stiles whimpered.  “Who’s following me down?”

“I’ll come,” Jackson immediately volunteered.

“Don’t look at me,” Peter said, lifting his hands.  “I’m not up to fighting speed yet, and honestly, with Isaac out of commission, you’re not looking at very good odds for yourself.  No offense, Jackson.”  The beta simply flipped the older man off, eliciting a giggle from his girlfriend.

“So I’m supposed to just let them die?” Derek countered.

“Erica is already dead,” Peter pointed out.

“We don’t know that!” Derek snapped.

“Do I have to remind you what we’re up against here?” Peter continued, feeling bolder.  “A pack of alphas.  All of them, killers.  And if that’s not enough to scare your testicles back into your stomach, try to remember that two of them combine bodies to form one giant alpha.”  Peter sat back, appearing remorseful with his hands folded before him.  “I’m sure Boyd was a sweet kid, and I’ve made it clear how much I valued Erica.  They’re gonna be missed.”

“Can someone kill him again, please?” Stiles requested.

“It’s the end of times.  I agree with Stilinski,” Jackson grumbled, glaring at Peter.

“Derek,” Peter spoke again.  “Seriously?  Not worth the risk.”

“What about you?” Derek questioned, glancing over in Stiles and Scott’s direction.

“Yeah, if you want me to come-” Stiles started.

“Not you,” Derek told him, closing his eyes for a moment before looking over at Scott.

“I don’t know about Erica,” Scott admitted, his voice shaky.  “I’m still hoping Isaac was wrong, but if Boyd’s still alive, we have to do something.  We have to try.”

“But?” Derek prompted, sensing that there was more on his mind.

“Who’s the other girl?” Scott wondered.  “The one locked in there with Boyd?”

“Whoever it is, they must be an enemy of the alpha pack,” Jackson pointed out.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Lydia added.  “It’s an ancient proverb.”

“We get everyone out,” Derek decided.  “Jackson and Scott will come with me to break into the vault from the back of the building.  Isaac, I want you and Allison to scout the front of the building. You’ll be back-up, but you’re to stay outside unless someone else enters the bank.  The rest of you should wait here, in case we need to come up with a plan B.”

“You want me to stay here with him?” Lydia asked, pointing at Peter.

“Or Jackson can take you home,” Derek offered.  “But I’d prefer you stay here.”

Lydia thought about it, glancing between Peter and Derek before nodding.  “As long as Stiles is here, I guess I can stay.”

With everyone accepting their roles, the plan was set in motion.  As the rest of the pack left the loft, Stiles and Lydia moved towards the table to make sure there weren’t going to be any surprises in the vault.  Peter watched them for a little while, then walked over to spread out on the couch to rest.  While Derek, Jackson, and Scott made their way to the back of the building, Allison and Isaac found a good vantage point of the bank’s front entrance.  At first, they were both okay with just sitting and waiting.  It was Allison that eventually got antsy, and suggested that they might need a human inside to help them with something.  Isaac tried to talk her out of it, but she snuck off to break in through the front door, leaving him to keep watch.

She had left her bow at home since she had just been told to keep watch, but she never went anywhere without a dagger tucked into her boot.  Of course, that weapon was useless if she was caught off guard and pinned against a wall like she suddenly found herself.

“Ms. Morrell?” she gasped at the sight of her guidance counselor.

“Keep your mouth shut, and listen close,” Marin instructed.  “You have no idea what you just stepped into.  Right now, you’ve got maybe twenty seconds to get your ass hidden.”

“What are you doing?” Allison asked, struggling under the firm hold on her.

“Get in that storage closet over there,” Marin continued.  “Lock the door.  When you hear the fighting start, that’s when you come out.”

“What fighting?” Allison questioned, panicked.

“You’ll hear it.  Now, go!” Marin demanded, stepping away and rushing down the hall.

Allison quickly moved towards the storage closet, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.  She tried to flip the switch, but it was broken, leaving her in darkness.  Sighing, she looked around, only to freeze when she heard a tapping coming towards her.  Thinking fast on her feet, she noticed the bottle of ammonia and gently eased it onto its side, the pungent chemical creating a puddle on the floor and effectively hiding her scent.  When she was sure the alphas had passed, she laid her jacket on the ground to block the crack under the door and pulled out her phone to use its flashlight.  Scanning the closet, she only found junk before she caught something out of the corner of her eye.  As she turned, the light landed on Erica’s still body, her blonde head falling forward lifelessly.

A sharp gasp escaped Allison, her hand covering her mouth as tears sprang to her eyes.  Isaac had been right.  Erica was dead.  She backed up against the wall, closing her eyes as she cried softly.  Only when she calmed down, wiping the tears from her cheeks, did she move back towards Erica’s body.  She looked off somehow, and not in the way a dead body looked off compared to a living one.  She didn’t want to get her hopes up that it meant anything though.  At the end of the day, Erica was dead, and with how Allison was feeling, she could only imagine how crushed everyone else would be when they found out.

For now, the rest of the pack was left in the dark, focusing on their own tasks while Allison waited alone with Erica’s body.  Unfortunately, Stiles didn’t have a task to focus on, so he was left hovering by the window, staring up at the moon.  Lydia had found a seat near him and far from Peter, who she was watching cautiously.  Peter, of course, hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch, comfortable with waiting to see how the night would turn out as long as he didn’t have to do anything.

“I can’t take waiting around like this, you know?” Stiles blurted out.  “It’s nerve-racking.  My nerves are racked.  They’re severely racked.  Racked.”

“If you say ‘racked’ one more time, I’m going to pluck out your eyebrows,” Lydia warned.

“I could beat you unconscious and wake you when it’s over,” Peter offered.

Stiles ignored Peter, turning to face Lydia instead.  “You think Erica’s really dead?”

“I don’t know, Stiles,” she admitted, frowning sympathetically.  “Isaac didn’t remember saying it, but he was pretty clear when he was in the trance.”

“I still find it hilarious that you were all surprised when she was taken,” Peter chuckled.

“Excuse me?” Stiles snapped, glaring over at him.  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone’s so sad now that she’s gone, but none of you seemed to care enough to be around her when she was alive,” Peter explained.

“Bullshit,” Stiles spat back at him.  “It wasn’t my fault I wasn’t with Erica when she was taken.  She asked for space!”

“Then what’s your excuse for all of the times I found her alone last fall?” Peter posed, glancing over at him.

“Stop it,” Lydia intervened.  “It’s not Stiles’s fault Erica was kidnapped.  It’s no one’s fault except the alpha pack.  Okay?  Arguing with each other isn’t going to help everyone else.  Come on, Stiles.  What did you ask me before?  About the bank?”

Stiles glanced over at her, breathing heavily through his nose before walking over to the table.  “Why the bank?  Why wouldn’t they chain them up in some underground lair or something?  They’re an alpha pack, right?  So shouldn’t they have a lair?”

“They’re werewolves, not bond villains,” Peter grumbled.

“Wait a sec,” Stiles muttered.  “Wait a sec!  Maybe they’re living there.  You know?  Like, maybe the bank vault reminds them of their little wolf dens.”

“‘Wolf dens’?” Peter repeated.

“Yeah, wolf dens,” Stiles nodded.  “Where do you live?”

“In an underground network of caves hidden deep in the woods,” Peter answered him.

“Woah, really?” Stiles gaped.

“No, you idiot,” Peter laughed.  “I have an apartment downtown.”

“Somehow that’s more information about you than I ever wanted to know,” Lydia stated.

“Okay, fine, but still.  That just proves that there’s something up with the bank,” Stiles insisted.  “And why wait around for the full moon, huh?  Why not just kill them whenever they want to?”

“Maybe they think it’s poetic,” Peter proposed.

“Are all alphas psychotic?” Lydia mused, frowning slightly.

“They’ve already had three full moons to be poetic,” Stiles pointed out.

“And here you’ve only had one full hour to be so annoy-” Peter started before freezing suddenly, his eyes widening.

“No, go ahead.  Finish what you were saying,” Stiles encouraged sarcastically.  “I’m an- I’m annoyi- What were you gonna say there?”

“What are the walls made of?” Peter questioned.

“What? Uh…” Stiles stammered, looking around the loft in confusion.  “I don’t know, like, wood and brick or-

“No, the vault,” Peter shook his head, moving over to the table.  Lydia found herself joining him, wondering what had made him so curious about the vault all of a sudden.  “The vault, the walls, what are they made out of?”  He began moving blueprints around, trying to find something that would provide an answer to his question.  “Where would it say that?  Doesn’t say anything.  Where- Where would it say the materials, the type of stone?”  

Stiles frantically pulled a thick file of information from his bag, certain the information Peter was looking for was in there.  The three of them scanned through the book until Stiles found the right page.  “There, that’s it.”

“Hecatolite,” Peter read.

“Moonstone?” Lydia clarified, recognizing the name.

“Is that awful?” Stiles asked.  “That sounds awful.”

“Get ‘em on the phone,” Peter demanded.  “Call them.  Now!”

“Okay, why?” Stiles asked, pulling out his phone.

“‘Cause Boyd and that girl aren’t gonna kill each other,” Peter told them.  “They’re gonna kill Derek, Scott, and Jackson.”

Lydia’s eyes widened as she gripped Stiles’s arm, watching as he called Scott and put the phone on speaker.  Peter briefly explained to them why hecatolite was so dangerous, their anxiety mounting as the phone continued to ring.

“Stiles, now is not the best time,” Scott told him when he finally answered.

“Scott!  Scott!  No, listen to me, okay?” Stiles insisted.  “Look, you gotta get outta there.  Look, the walls of the vault are made with a mineral called hecatolite.  It scatters the moonlight.”

“What does that mean?” Scott asked, encouraging his friend to get to the point.

“It keeps the moonlight out!” Lydia exclaimed.

“They haven’t felt the full moon in months,” Stiles added.

“Think of it like the gladiators in the Roman Colosseum,” Peter explained.  “They used to starve the lions for three days, making them more vicious, more out of control.  Deucalion has kept them from shifting for three full moons, diminishing their tolerance to it.”

“Scott, they’re gonna be stronger,” Stiles warned.

“More savage, more bloodthirsty,” Peter continued.  “Scott, they’re the lions.  They’re the starved lions, and you three just stepped into the Colosseum.”

“Derek,” Scott stammered, seeing the moonlight start to enter the vault from the hole they had created.  “We got a problem.  A really big problem.”

Before Derek could ask him what was going on, the other girl walked around Boyd, standing in plain view of the other werewolves.  “Cora?”

“Who?” Scott questioned.

“Cora?” Derek repeated vulnerably.

“Derek, get out,” Cora commanded.  “Get out now!”

“Scott!” Stiles called over the phone.  “Hey, Scott!”

“Jackson, if you can hear me, run!” Lydia called.

Before the call ended, all they could hear was Scott pleading with someone to wait, and then pure chaos ensued.  Marin Morrell had closed a mountain ash barrier on the inside of the vault, trapping all five werewolves inside.  Boyd and Cora started fighting the other three, who barely managed to keep them at bay.  Derek confessed in the midst of the fight that Cora was his younger sister, making it clear that they needed to save her as much as they needed to save Boyd.

“Derek!” Allison called out from the bank vault entrance.  She noticed the barrier and bent down to break it, but stopped when Derek called her name.

“Don’t break the seal!” he ordered.

“Look out!” she yelled as Boyd and Cora charged them.

Derek grappled with his sister while Jackson and Scott fought Boyd off.  When Boyd threw Jackson across the vault, and plunged his clawed hand into Scott’s stomach, Derek knew that if they stayed there, Boyd and Cora would kill them.  “Allison, now!  Do it now!”

Allison did as instructed, calling Boyd’s name to get his attention.  He dropped Scott to the floor before running from the vault with Cora following behind him.  Once they were gone, she rushed into the vault, checking on Scott as Derek helped Jackson from the floor.

“You were supposed to keep watch outside with Isaac,” Derek reminded Allison as he gripped her upper arm.  “What were you thinking?”

“That I had to do something,” Allison shot back.  “And clearly I was right.  If there wasn’t a human to break that, how else would you have gotten out?”

“She saved our lives,” Scott pointed out.

“Yes, I know that,” Derek snapped, taking a deep breath.  “We have to track them down before they kill anyone.  We’ll need your father’s help.  Did you get a chance to talk to him?”

“Sort of, but I’ll try again,” Allison promised.

“Scott, get Stiles back on the phone so we can start making a plan,” Derek continued, moving away from the vault and towards the door.

“Wait,” Allison stopped him, her eyes darting to Scott as she swallowed dryly.  “There’s…  There’s something you need to see.”

[mostly-vo1d]

Wait I have a steo wild hunt au that still gives us the why wouldn't I remember Stiles scene. Time travel.

Everything goes exactly as planned, the pack remembers and gets back Stiles. Stiles and Theo somehow end up fighting together when one of the riders gets both of them at the same time. But because magic is funny like that (read: whatever the dread doctors/the nogitsune did to them turns the hunt's train station dimension into wibbly wobbly timey wimey nonsense) they end up both alive 3 months earlier.

And promptly get taken separately by the wild hunt again.

So we not only get both of them being forgotten, we also get Theo being the one telling Stiles he was the only one who really remembered him.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hey, do you know any cool fanfic about stiles getting kicked out of the pack but he ends up getting better without them?

Sure.

The Reinforcements by ceanandsbrielgam1927ship

(3/? I 3,097 I Not Rated I Stiles/OMC)

When Scott pushes Stiles out of the pack for being human, he leaves Beacon Hills behind, only staying in contact with Lydia. When the pack can't protect their town from a demon, Lydia calls in her reinforcements in the form of a badass Stiles and his new boyfriend.

Appreciate Me by AlexTheShipper

(3/? I 8,670 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles is the most powerful Spark in a century, in the last year he's turned down dozens of offers to join other packs, and yet his own pack keeps disrespecting him. Pushed to his limit Stiles decides to take a temporary break from the pack, but will he want to come back.

When Your Life Falls Down Around Your Ears (You Get Up And Kick It's Ass) by Super_Secret_Slash_Agent

(1/1 I 15,579 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles left Beacon Hills when it became clear he wasn't welcome with the pack anymore. Now he's back and things are going down in Beacon Hills.

I'll show you who's useless by lilredd3394

(10/10 I 15,684 I Teen I Sterek)

“I overheard Derek arguing with Scott” Stiles said softly as Deaton led him to the back room “He said that I wasn't pack, because I was human” he paused for a few seconds as his hands closed into fists “I want to prove him wrong, you mentioned in a previous conversation that I have the spark. I want to learn how to control it”

Never Break the Chain by OntheMeander

(11/11 I 79,542 I Explicit I Sterek)

Nine years ago Stiles left Beacon Hills and planned to never come back. All that was left for him there was a broken heart and a threat over his head that would take away everything else.

Life is unstable though and now he has to come back to this hell hole to bury a fallen brother.

He has changed though, grown up and matured. He can handle this little weeklong visit; go to the funeral, spend time with his dad, check up on any potential work in the area, avoid Derek, the pack and... Derek's wife?

Whatever, he will handle this with all the grace he has learned in the last decade than disappear into the night. He hopes.

And miles to go before I sleep by Heart_Of_Steel_And_Fandoms

(18/18 I 113,567 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles leaves Beacon Hills at the end of Sophomore year. He's been abandoned by the pack, scarred by the hunters, and carries the equivalent of a volcano of magic inside him. Needless to say, his life sucks. But when Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills, over a year later and with a new persona, he isn't the same powerless human the pack remembers. And when demons threaten Beacon Hills, he proves to everyone that sarcasm isn't his only defence.

These Faces and These Places by UnstableIntention (BeneficialAddiction)

(58/? I 151,545 I Teen I Sterek)

Five years after leaving Beacon Hills, Stiles is coming home, and he's not the same lovable goof-ball he used to be. Older, stronger, he can hold his own against almost anything now, but he's still no hero, and with the threat of the nogitsune and a deadly dementia hovering over him, things are only going to get darker.

When It Comes To Being Lucky by sterekcrush

(46/? I 157,701 I General I Sterek)

Derek Hale doesn't do love. He's tried twice; the first time it made him a killer, and the second time cost him his whole world.

So he doesn't do love, and he definitely doesn't love Stiles. He doesn't care about Stiles' new powers or the fact that Stiles has been talking to Derek's dead mother, or even the fact that for some reason supernatural creatures from all over the country are sending Stiles offers of courtship.

But when Stiles claims he's

[aristrocrat]

Chapter 2

S2 Episode Two

SUMMARY: With the discovery of a new werewolf on the day of a full moon, the pack plans on saving Isaac from himself, the hunters, and the cops. Y/N asks Stiles about her fake-date plan.

WORD COUNT:

TW: talking about sex, suggestive language

“So Scott and I were talking and thought of a plan,” You smiled as you unwrapped the towel in your hair and entered Stiles’ room wearing his clothes. His jaw dropped slightly at the sight of you. There were a few of his shirts he never wore because of the simple that they were too baggy on him. On you though, they seemed to fall off of your body in the perfect way. Today you opted for an old graphic t-shirt with a pair of your shorts. This was indeed a sight he could get used to. “And you’re zoned out. Earth to Stiles!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear a word you said,” He replied, looking you up and down. “Damn, you look so good when you wear my shirt. What were you saying? A plan?”

“Yeah,” You giggled as you grabbed a brush from your bag and running it through your damp locks. “So you know how he’s got Argent on his ass and he can’t hang out with Allison? And my mom basically is banning me from seeing you. What if Scott and I pretended to be a couple so that we could all spend more time with our significant others? I told him I’d run it past you before we agreed to anything.”

“I.. Y/N, I don’t know,” He sighed. “I don’t really feel comfortable with that.”

“Okay, no biggie,” You smiled sweetly before kissing his cheek. He grinned at your easy-going personality, silently thanking you for not asking any more questions as he climbed into his bed. The last thing he wanted to do was act like a jealous douche bag. “Just thought I’d ask.”

“Scott really surprises me with his stupid plans sometimes,” Stiles chuckled, making you pause. “… That was his plan, right?”

“Yeah! Yup, you know Scott with his.. dumb plans,” You muttered, making Stiles laugh while mentally cursing yourself for lying.

“So dumb! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love the guy but damn it’s like sometimes he forgets that we’re people with feelings or something. Anyways are you ready for bed?” He grinned, scooting over to his side of the bed and holding the blanket open for you.

“Yeah,” You smiled as the guilt began settling in your stomach from your dishonesty. You thought about telling him as you turned off the lights and again when crawled in with him, but by the time you worked enough courage, he changed the conversation completely. You both talked about nothing and everything for an hour in each other’s arms. What harm could come from a small white lie anyways?

“Your shampoo is literally the best thing I’ve ever smelled in my life,” He breathed into your fragrant hair, making you laugh. “Seriously! It’s heavenly.”

“I actually feel the same about yours.”

“You picked mine out.”

“Yeah, hence why it smells so good,” You shrugged, making him chuckle. You readjusted next to him, facing him as you spoke. “I really like your cologne too. Before we were dating, I remember-”

“Come back,” He pouted, holding his arms open.

“I’m comfier over here!” You argued with a smile.

“Okay and?” He furrowed his brows and waved his arms around as if to tell you to come back anyway. “Come on! I can’t fall asleep when you’re not on my chest!”

“I have a solution. Face the wall,” You began, making him scoff.

“Okay, rude!” He shouted before turning around with sass. You giggled before scooting up behind him and wrapping your arm around him. “I’m not going to be able to sleep like this.”

“Let’s just try it!” You rolled your eyes. “I like hugging you.”

“You can hug me from my chest,” He yawned. And within a couple of minutes, he fell asleep. It was the first time he’d ever fallen asleep before you, making you smile. Not going to be able to sleep your ass.

You snuggled into his back, kissing the back of his neck and breathing in his scent. The sound of his breathing soothed you like the crashing waves on a beach. You loved hearing his sleepy groans and mumbles as he slept, though it was rare for you to be awake to experience it.

“Goodnight. I love you,” You whispered, not expecting an answer.

“Mm love you too,” He grumbled in his sleep, putting his arm around the one you wrapped around him. You smiled; even in his sleep, he was the sweetest boyfriend you could ask for.

———

“Alright, show’s over, assholes,” You called as you walked up to Lydia and Allison who stood frozen under the crowd’s gaze. Everyone stared at Lydia in silence, judging her for the naked hiatus she took in the woods. Suddenly, their eyes all shifted to you, making you roll yours. “Go!”

And just like that, everyone scattered, looking back as they walked away. You smiled and looked back at Lydia.

“I was gone for a few days and now you’re the queen bee, huh?” She teased.

“Oh, hell no. Just keeping your seat warm on the throne is all,” You smiled, making her laugh. “Now, let’s get to class, yeah?”

“And to think, you were this shy, insecure little thing when I found you! I think my job is done. You can dress, walk the walk and now you can talk the talk! I’m so proud of myself!” She grinned before walking away, leaving you and Allison standing at the doorway.

“Gee, thanks, Y/N,” You muttered, making Allison laugh. “You’re such a good friend. Thank you for shooing everyone away!”

“Oh, please,” Allison laughed, wrapping her arm around you. “You didn’t actually expect a thank you from her, did you? She’s back and as cool as ever again.”

“Yay us,” You grumbled, making her throw her head back in laughter as you walked towards your lockers. “So, how are you? I feel like it’s been forever since we talked.”

“Things are really good actually,” She blushed. You furrowed your brows and smiled. “Like so good.”

“NO WAY!” You squealed. “NO FUCKING WAY!”

“Shh!!” She giggled, pulling you aside at your locker. “Yes way! Scott and I finally.. you know..”

“You fucked!” You grinned. “Finally!”

“What do you mean finally?” She tilted her head.

“Scott was so mad at me for basically sharing all of my firsts on the same day as him. First kiss, first I love you- you name it. We basically had the exact same milestones as you guys. He made us swear to wait until he lost his so we could lose ours,” You admitted.

“That’s ridiculous!” Allison laughed. “Technically, we did it after midnight so you could lose yours tonight as a fuck you. Figuratively and literally.”

“I’m actually a little nervous,” You admitted as you messed with the lock on your locker and opened it. You continued to speak as you took things out of your bag and organized them neatly in your shelves. “What’s it like? Does it hurt? Is it awkward?”

“A little bit at first. You have to make sure to like... warm up, if you get what I mean. It’s not bad though. It’s actually a lot of fun,” She bit on her pointer finger, remembering the events from the previous night. “And it’s not awkward. It was really sweet actually. Are you having second thoughts or something?”

“No! God, no. He’s great! It’s just.. losing your virginity seems like such a big deal. I’m just excited to get the first time over with,” You grumbled.

“Don’t think like that! It’s really not that big of a deal at all. It’s just a label. But make sure to savor it and be safe. It’ll definitely be something you’ll remember for the rest of your life so might as well make it sweet,” She smiled, hugging you from behind. “Just don’t tell Lydia about it.”

“Oh, that’s a given,” You said before the two of you erupted into giggles and walked to class.

———

“He’s playing goalie? But he hates goalie,” Allison furrowed her brows. You looked up from your book to see him jogging towards the goal. “What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know actually,” You responded, looking over at Stiles. His features were decorated in concern, eyes locked on his best friend. You placed a bookmark in the novel you were reading and put it in your bag before leaning against Allison. “Something’s wrong. Look at Stiles.”

“He always looks like that.”

“Okay, well he’s shifting his weight and playing with his hands. That’s a dead giveaway that- what the fuck?!” You gasped as Scott ran from the goal and tackled the first guy in line. “Did he just sniff him?”

“Yeah, it looks like it,” She leaned forward in concern. “Scott, what are you doing?..”

Scott looked up from the field before running back to his position. The two of you watched as he proceeded to repeat his actions with everyone in line until Jackson walked off, making you narrow your eyes in suspense. You recognized the next player as Isaac Lahey. He and Scott took off running and tried to tackle one another, resulting in them falling to the ground. Isaac landed on all fours and looked up at Scott, reminding you of how Scott practiced and played when he first turned.

“Oh my god,” You whispered. “Al, I think-”

“The cops are here,” Allison interrupted, pointing to your left. You looked over and, sure enough, a group of policemen walked over to Isaac, taking him away. The lacrosse team watched as they walked him off.

“Watch my stuff?” You looked over at Allison, earning a nod before you walked down the bleachers and made your way to the boys. “What the hell is going on?”

“I saw his eyes glow,” Scott leaned in and spoke in a hushed tone. “I thought I sensed another werewolf in the locker room earlier so Stiles asked Coach if I could play goalie.”

“That explains the tackling,” You mumbled sarcastically.

“His father’s dead. They think he was murdered.”

“Are they saying he’s a suspect?” Stiles asked.

“I’m not sure. Why?” Scott responded as you all looked over again.

“Because they can lock him in a holding cell for 24 hours,” Stiles responded.

“Like overnight?”

“During the full moon,” You breathed.

“How good are those things at holding people?”

“People? Good,” Stiles looked over at Scott. “Werewolves? Probably not that good.”

“Stiles, remember when I said I don’t have the urge to maim and kill?”

“Yeah?”

“He does.”

“Alright, ass wipes. Enough staring! Back to practice!”

———

The three of you sat in Mr. Harris’ class and spoke more about the previous events, trying to figure out if the Sheriff’s Department could hold Lahey or not.

“I don’t think they can do that. Well, not unless they have solid evidence,” You responded to Scott.

“Or a witness,” Stiles’ eyes widened. “Wait.. Danny. Where’s Jackson?”

“Principal’s office. Talking to your dad,” The dark-haired boy responded.

“What? Why?!”

“Maybe because he lives across the street from Isaac?”

“A witness,” Stiles looked back at you. “We’ve got to get to the principal’s office.”

“One step ahead of you,” You said, crumbling up a piece of paper and launching it at Mr. Harris’ head, causing the class to erupt in laughter.

“Who in the hell did that?” He growled, turning around. The three of you pointed at one another, earning a spot in the principal’s lineup. You all walked to his office and took a seat, looking in as Scott listened to the conversation. The sheriff walked out of the office and looked over at the three of you. Stiles quickly pulled up a magazine to his face in an effort to hide.

“Hi, Scott. Hey, Y/N,” He greeted his son’s friends before shooting his son a look of annoyance. You both waved as he walked away.

“Nice playoff,” You deadpanned, taking the magazine out of Stiles’ hands.

“Hey, give that back! I was actually reading about the Mets-”

“You three. Come on in,” A voice said from beside you. You all looked over to see Gerard standing before you.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” He read off of a file. “Beacon Hill’s smartest student. Very involved in the community; honor society, student council, writer’s club, and you still find time to volunteer. I see you’ve been lacking a bit. You haven’t logged many hours in a few weeks.”

“My parents divorced and I had to pick up shifts at the clinic,” You explained, not straying too far from the truth.

“That’s a shame. Sorry to hear about that,” He said unsympathetically. “Scott McCall. Academically not the most accomplished, but I see you have become quite the star athlete. Mr. Stilinski. Oh, perfect grades but little to no extracurriculars. Maybe you should try lacrosse.”

“Oh, actually I’m already-”

“Hold on. McCall,” Gerard held up a finger. “You’re the Scott that was dating my granddaughter.”

“We were dating but not anymore. Not dating. We broke up. I’m actually in a new relationship,” He said, taking your hand. You and Stiles looked over in annoyance at your stumbling mess of a friend. “With Y/N. We’re dating now.”

“We are?” You asked, getting a look from Scott. “I didn’t know we’re official. Uh, yeah, yeah.. We’re dating now.”

“Childhood friends. It was bound to happen,” Scott shrugged. “Isn’t that right, babe?”

It took everything inside of you not to gag at the way he called you babe without any sort of irony. You swallowed and nodded.

Stiles scoffed before you kicked his ankle. “Sorry. I’m still bitter about that. I liked her too.”

The new principal chuckled before looking back at Scott.

“Well, that’s too bad. You seem like a pretty nice kid to me,” Gerard smiled before looking away. You yanked your hand from Scott’s and shot him a look. “Now listen guys- Yes, I am the principal but I really don’t want you to think of me as the enemy.”

“Is that so?” Stiles asked sarcastically, making you let out a breathy chuckle.

“However, this being my first day, I do need to support my teachers. So unfortunately someone is going to have to take the fall and stay behind for detention.”

You looked over and Scott and realized he was looking past you. You looked to your right in time to catch Stiles’ gaze. He looked around at all of you before his jaw dropped.

“I threw the-” You began.

“No, I got it!” He flailed his arms. “I’ll go..”

——

“Stiles!” Scott called after his best friend who marched away. “Dude, I’m sorry! I freaked out! Y/N brought up the idea and Allison gave the okay so I assumed-”

“But I didn’t!” He stopped, turning back to Scott. “She asked me and I told her I wasn’t comfortable with it! Of course you assumed. You always do!”

“Stiles, I’m sorry-”

“You always are, dude! You never ask for permission. You always beg for forgiveness! I’m so tired of you just jumping into your own plan- … Wait, Y/N came up with the idea?”

Your eyes widened as he looked over at you.

“Did I say Y/N? No, it was my idea. That was all on me-”

“NO, Scott, it's okay. Yeah, I did,” You confirmed, looking at your boyfriend. His face dropped, no longer showing an ounce of anger. He was hurt. “I just.. figured it’d be a good way around my mom’s strict rules so I could spend more time with you. But then you turned it down so I didn’t talk about it again.”

“Why would you-.. You told me it was Scott’s- You know what? Never mind,” He scoffed and walked off.

“Sti!” You began to walk after him before Scott held his arm out, preventing you from chasing after him. “What are you doing? I need to go after him.”

“He needs to cool down,” He shook his head. “Or else he’ll say something he doesn’t mean. Just give it an hour, okay? The conversation will still be there.”

“You’re right,” You hesitated. “God, it feels awful to hurt his feelings.”

“Tell me about it,” Scott sighed, looking over his shoulder to see Stiles walk around a corner. “Come on. Let’s go get some lunch, yeah?”

———

“Hey, you want me to wait on you, or should I catch another ride?” You asked as Stiles closed his locker after school.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be. It’d probably be best if you got another right,” He sighed. He wasn't trying to hurt you. He genuinely didn't know how long detention would run. Not to mention, his feelings were still hurt. His stomach dropped at the sight of you. Though it was a small lie, he couldn't help but fear the possibility of his best friend developing feelings for the girl he loved wholeheartedly while in this fake relationship. After all, it hadn't even been a full year since Scott got over his little crush. What if it came back?

“Stiles, can we just talk about this? I’m so s-”

“I have to get to detention, Y/N,” He shook his head before walking off. He was never one to be vulnerable, let alone when he was hurt. You thought you'd seen him open up more towards you but seeing him dismiss you made you think your relationship just took a step back.

You sighed. You weren’t expecting this reaction. He was genuinely hurt, and you could understand why; you lied. You’d be offended too considering a lot of your relationship was built on always telling the truth. It made you nervous, the impact of a small lie.

You’d recently learned more about the Delvoux family and kept it hidden from everyone, including Stiles. The powers developed in certain generations of the family. Those with magical abilities were often cursed; many of them went crazy. Of those, almost every single one either committed suicide or a heinous crime. Magic was a hard thing to control, and it often was the one doing the controlling. The stronger the witch and the more magic she used, the higher the risk was.

You didn’t say anything because the chances of having any sort of magical abilities were slim. It wasn’t until you started feeling tingling in your fingers and predicting events that it hit you; you had the ability. You thought you had it under control, but the magic kept finding you. Predictions came naturally. Not only that, but your intelligence was another form of magic in and of itself. Perfect grades regardless of the lack of studying, being able to understand even the hardest of topics, figuring out perfect plans for the pack to use during trying times; it was all your bloodline’s gift. Truth be told, you had no idea how long you’d been using magic to ace exams and focus on your studies.

“Hey,” Allison spoke, bringing you out of your deep thoughts. “I heard about Stiles. Are you okay?”

“Scott told you?” You sighed, adjusting your backpack.

“Yeah. I almost didn’t believe it until I saw him walk past me a minute ago,” She nodded. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, I’m fantastic,” You smiled sarcastically, making her laugh.

“Wanna come over? We can get our minds off of our relationships and just watch a movie or something,” She offered. You hesitated before realizing that was actually exactly what you wanted to do and nodded. “Alright. Let’s go! I’ll let you pick the movie.”

You walked out to her car and made a quick stop by the video store, opting for the movie Inception. You also dropped by the store and picked out a few snacks for the movie, laughing and joking the whole time. She really had a way of cheering you up in your worst times.

After returning home, you greeted her parents. You knew they were skeptical of you, being Scott’s friend and all, but they smiled and treated you with nothing but kindness. You sat down at the dinner table after your movie and made them all laugh with your goofy stories and sweet disposition.

“Let’s go to my room and study!” Allison giggled, pulling you away from her mother and running up towards the stairs. She almost ran into a man dressed as a cop, apologizing as she moved aside. You caught glimpse of a small wooden container with a wolfsbane flower engraved on the top and froze. She gave you a look of concern before being summoned into her father’s office. “Go ahead. I’ll be right up to tell you everything.”

“Okay,” You nodded, jogging up to her room. It was only a few minutes before she opened her door with urgency and made her way to you.

“We need to do something about Isaac. Like right now. They were asking me all these questions about Lydia and how she was bitten by Peter, and then they sent this guy out-”

“I saw that! I’m assuming they’re sending him to Isaac?” You sighed. “He was carrying a box with wolfsbane in it. I could tell from the top because it was carved on top.”

“Wolfsbane?”

“Yeah, it’s toxic to the werewolves. I think they’re gonna-”

You stopped at the sound of your phone going off. You looked up at Allison before grabbing and answering it.

“Hello?” You hesitated.

“Hey, sorry. Harris literally just let me out of detention. Literally. He had my phone the whole fucking time!” Stiles’ voice echoed into your ear, making you frown. You could tell by his tone that he was still angry.

“It’s cool. Look, we have a bigger problem on our hands. I’m with Allison and her dad just sent a guy dressed as a sheriff’s deputy to the station for Isaac,” You explained. “He was carrying a box of wolfsbane with him.”

“Oh my god. They’re gonna kill him,” Stiles said. “Okay, okay, what’s the plan?”

“Um..” You trailed off.

“You don’t have a plan?!”

“Do you?” You rebutted. “I just found out about this literally five seconds ago!”

“Okay, uh, you and Allison follow that guy to the station. Slow him down, alright? I’ll meet you there,” Stiles scrambled for the words as he conceived the plan on the spot. “See, now that wasn’t too hard was it?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll see you soon. Bye ... Allison, let’s get in your car. I’ll explain everything on the way.”

You both ran downstairs and hopped in her car before speeding off. You quickly filled her in on the plan and within a few minutes, you had the man on the ground screaming with an arrow in his leg.

“Nice!” You whispered, making her smile. “If things don’t work out with Scott, just know I’m next in line.”

“Noted,” She chuckled. “I’ll keep the spot reserved for you.”

You laughed as you both ran away to get some distance. Once you felt safe, you picked up your phone and dialed your boyfriend.

“Hey, did you slow him down?” Stiles answered.

“You could say that,” You let out a breathy chuckle as you looked at Allison.

“Alright, well, uh, I’m headed to the station right now.”

“Where’s Scott?” Allison chimed in, leaning against your head to hear the conversation.

“Isaac’s.”

“Does he have a plan?” She followed up.

“Yeah, but not a very good one. And unfortunately, we don’t really have time to come up with anything better,” Stiles huffed.

“I have to go find him,” Allison said.

“Oh, that’s not a very good idea either,” Your eyes widened.

“No! That’s a really stupid idea actually!” Stiles cried. “Stay at the station. It’s safer there. He should be going all out werewolf right about now.”

“Let’s split up,” Allison brushed off. “You stay here. I’m only a phone call away and Stiles is on the way.”

“Allison!” Stiles shouted. “Al, listen to me! You’re safer as a group! Stay with-”

“She’s gone,” You sighed. “Fuck! What am I supposed to do here? What’s Scott’s plan?”

“This wasn’t a part of it,” Stiles squeaked. “I’m picking up Derek right now, okay? Hide. I’ll be right there. And Y/N!”

“What?”

“Just.. be careful, alright? I’m still pissed but I really don’t know what I would do without you so just stay safe,” He lowered his tone.

“You too,” You smiled softly. “Take a breath. We got this, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

“Thanks. I love you, bye!”

You sat in an alleyway and watched as people entered and exited the sheriff's station. You kept your eyes peeled for anyone with a limp. Time seemed to fly by now that you finally heard him say he loved you. Ever since your lab earlier, you felt anxiety swell in the pit of your stomach that begged to know just how badly you screwed up. His tone cleared it all up; this was simply argument. Nothing catastrophic.

Just as your mind began to wander back to the thoughts and secrets of your bloodline, you saw a familiar baby blue Jeep pull up. You smiled and jogged up to it before tapping on the passenger’s window.

“Would you please tell this person of interest that going in there as a distraction isn’t the best idea?” Stiles flailed his arms.

“I’m an innocent person of interest!”

“You?!” Stiles laughed. “Yeah, right!”

“Going back to your question, it depends on the distraction,” You shrugged. “If you flirt, you’re golden. It’s the new deputy and she drops everything at the opportunity to get her dick wet.”

“She has a dick?” Derek raised his brows

“I don’t know! It’s just an expression,” You chuckled.

“You’re only saying that because you hate her,” Stiles deadpanned. “She doesn’t drop everything for male validation. She just happened to have flirted with me in front of Y/N.”

“No. I might not like her but I’m just saying the truth,” You argued.

“Oh, so now she’s capable of telling the truth!” He gasped.

“Stiles, refer to me in the third person again and I will do this by myself,” You huffed.

You opened Derek’s door and motioned him to walk in front of you before following close behind. You and Stiles waited for him to capture her full attention before sneaking in behind them. Stiles led the way to his father’s office, typing in the code to a small safe. When he opened it, there was nothing in there.

“Oh, no..” He mumbled, making you peak over his shoulder before you looked at one another and took off running. You looked through the hallways and whipped a quick right to run into a cop. “Oh, uh, just looking for..”

You both looked down at the man’s leg to see it was impaled with an arrow. “Oh shit..”

He held out a gun and pushed the two of you in front of him, herding you to the holding cells. You saw Stiles trip beside you and took the opportunity to yank the fire alarm. The man’s eyes lit up with anger before shoving you with force into the room. You stumbled and fell backward into the open cell.

“That’s not good,” You muttered, pausing to look around for the feral werewolf that loomed in the room. As soon as you caught a glimpse of him in the corner, he launched his body into that of the faux cop. He stumbled back before trying to fight back. His hand was quickly caught and bent to an ungodly angle. You took the opportunity to run towards your boyfriend, checking him for any scrapes before looking back once again.

“Are you okay?” He asked, holding your face in his hands. You nodded before seeing a figure appear at the doorway.

Derek entered the room and stomped on the vile of wolfsbane before calmly looking up at Isaac. Your eyes widened in fear when his eyes shifted to your boyfriend; the intention of maiming in killing was certainly clear now.

In the midst of the chaos, you lowered your jaw and felt yourself give him a deadly look. Isaac approached with a similar look until he caught your gaze. He froze, making the men in the room look towards you as well.

“Back. Off,” You ordered with an authoritative voice. Isaac simply stared at you, the look of horror slowly arising. “GET THE FUCK BACK!”

He stumbled back with utter terror, falling back into the wall behind him and curling into a ball. You heard his whimpers and breathed out a sigh of relief before looking back at Stiles. His lips parted in amazement.

“How did you do that?” He breathed.

“Peter was right,” Derek spoke up in disbelief. “You’re a Delvoux.”

He quickly gathered his beta before fleeing the scene, leaving you and Stiles in the room alone with the unconscious man on the opposite of the room. Stiles got up and offered you a hand.

“So what else are you hiding from me?” He furrowed his brows. “You gonna cast a spell of forgiveness next?”

“Wha- I didn’t even know I could do that!” You argued, making him scoff.

“I don’t even know what to believe anymore,” He grumbled, letting go of your hand.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Stilinski?!” You shouted. “This is the thanks I get for saving your life? Yes, I lied. And I’m so sorry. Truly. You have to know how guilty I’ve felt about hiding this from you. But you don’t get a free pass into every bit of information about my life just because your my boyfriend!”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N. I never asked that from you! All I ask is for the truth. If you’re not ready to talk about something, then fucking tell me that! I won’t push you to talk about anything but I feel like a boyfriend should know when his girlfriend is going through something. I’m fed up with your secrecy!” He shouted. “You had no right to tell me your little dating plan was Scott’s idea!”

“You’re right, Stiles. That one is completely on me, okay? And I won’t ever do that again. I’m sorry I hurt you,” You lowered your tone, but anger dripped from your following words. “But this whole Delvoux thing?! I’m hiding most of it to protect you because I would assume you wouldn’t want to know that it’s a fucking curse!”

“A curse?” He blinked. “What do you mean by that?”

You stayed silent and looked away.

“Look, I get that you don’t wanna talk about it but don’t hold back on my account. I can handle the-”

“Stiles?” You heard a voice from the doorway, making your boyfriend look towards his father. You sighed, holding back tears from the argument. “Y/N, wait in the lobby. Stiles, come with me.”

You nodded and walked past the group of deputies, towards the lobby. You could hear the inaudible shouting from his office and closed your eyes, wishing this would all just stop. You wanted nothing more than to curl up into your pillow and cry away the hopeless feeling that sank into the pit of your stomach. You placed your head on your hands to hide the tears that refused to stay in your eyes, not knowing how much time passed before you felt a familiar presence in front of you.

“Hey,” Stiles spoke softly. You remained in your position, not wanting to show your tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. “Can we talk in the Jeep?”

You sighed and nodded before grabbing your backpack and standing up, not daring to look at his sympathetic gaze. You walked out in front of him, seeing his hand move past you to open the door. He repeated the usual act when you got to his Jeep. You hopped in and wiped your cheeks as he jogged over.

“I’m sorry,” You began. “I’m sorry for not telling the truth and for hurting you. It was never my intention. You didn’t deserve that, Sti. I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” He nodded. “I’m sorry for acting so childish. I don’t think I would’ve been so mad had Scott not said you were his earlier. I was acting out of jealousy and you didn’t deserve that either. It’s okay that you hid some stuff from me and that you lied. I get it. And you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Just know I’m here for you if you want to.”

“I feel like I’ve been on the verge of a mental breakdown from not telling you everything. I think you should know,” You sighed, swallowing the knot in your throat. You proceeded to tell him everything; the magic, the way you mindlessly used it for your intelligence, the effect it might have on you and it being the reason you’ve been so hesitant about looking into it.. You didn’t want to accidentally use more magic. He listened intently while rubbing his hand on your thigh.

“We’ll find a way,” He reassured. “We always do.”

“I don’t know, Stiles,” Your voice finally broke. “I don’t think we will this time. I’m so scared.”

“Hey, come here,” He whispered, pulling you into his embrace. “I will find a way around this if it’s the last thing I do, okay? You’re going to be okay. You have my word. And I’ll stick it through with you no matter what.”

He held you tightly as you sobbed quietly into his shoulder, rubbing your back for the few minutes you allowed yourself to cry it all out. Once your breathing finally regulated, you leaned back again.

“I don’t know how I would do this without you. I love you so much,” You laughed, wiping the final tears from your face using the sleeve of your shirt. “It actually hurts sometimes.”

“God, I feel that in my soul,” He chuckled, reaching over to wipe your cheek with his thumb. “Love sucks. No one ever tells you how bad you feel when you hurt the person you love. Or how your chest literally feels like it’s going to explode when they fall asleep on it.”

“It sucks so bad,” You giggled, making him smile. “I don’t even wanna imagine what heartbreak is like.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on ever feeling it with you,” He admitted. “I refuse. You’re just stuck with me I guess.”

“I’m okay with that,” You looked into his eyes. “I’m still sorry.”

“It’s okay! It’s okay! All is forgiven,” He laughed. “Just please don’t cry again because holy shit I feel like I just got punched in the gut.”

“Okay, I promise I won’t cry again,” You smiled. He returned the facial expression, looking at you with utter admiration. “So you were jealous, huh?”

“Oh my god. So fucking jealous!” He said, making you laugh again. “Like I was fully prepared to just like punch him and surround myself in mountain ash.”

“If it makes you feel better, there’s nothing to be jealous about,” You put your hand on the side of his neck.

“Oh?” He raised his brows. “Why’s that?”

“Because I am so, completely, and utterly yours. I don’t think anyone could compare to you. You’re like the best boyfriend ever. I mean, you’re hot, nice, smart, and hot and funny and caring, oh and did I mention hot?!” You grinned as he threw his head back in laughter before scrunching your nose. “Also, Scott?! EW! Bleh! Hell no! I really do see him like a brother so that’s just fucking gross!”

“Thank God,” He leaned back and sighed in relief. You took his hand in yours and took in his features, still not quite believing he was yours. “I love you.”

“I love you more, dumbass,” You smiled, squeezing his hand. “Hey, my mom’s working the late shift. You mind if I stay the night?”

“I was just about to ask you actually,” He chuckled. “Yes, please stay the night!”

“Okay, I’ll definitely make it all up to you tonight,” You said, a little more seductive than you anticipated. His eyes widened in response. “Let’s go.”

“H-hold up,” He stuttered. “Wait, wait, wait. What? Tonight?!”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to. We just got into an argument so I totally understand if don’t want to-” You blushed.

“NO! I mean, uh,” He squeaked before clearing his throat and speaking in a deeper tone. “No, I definitely want to. But didn’t we promise Scott not to until he..?”

“He did it last night,” You smiled. “So?”

He looked at you with wide eyes and lips parted before clumsily fumbling to start the car and speeding off. You laughed at his urgency and the grin that painted his features. “This is gonna be awesome.”

EPISODE THREE ->

————

As always, please let me know what you think of this! I love love love to hear from you guys :) Plz like and/or reblog, it really helps me out! Comment or DM if you’d like to be added to the tag list! Thanks for reading!

Before, I continue with my regularly formatted, goofy A/N, I want to talk about something first. The War in Ukraine..

My heart goes out to Ukraine and those oppressed under the Russian regime. My soul feels heavy knowing about the horrors going on in their country. Innocent people and children are dying because of a mentally unstable facist’s pride. I stand with Ukraine and their heroic fight for democracy. I have never felt such pride as I do seeing these people fight for their freedom and livelihoods. They are truly the definition of heroes. If you want to donate, please visit this website. It will provide you with multiple organizations and charities that you can donate to.

Now back to your regularly scheduled, dumb ass A/N. I’ve had written for a couple of weeks now.

A/N: Sorry y’all. You know me, I’m a SLUT for some angst. Can’t have a relationship without an argument from time to time. I just have a feeling Stiles is like super petty as a way to hide his vulnerable side before he comes to his senses and apologizes. I promise he’ll get better at handling his emotions, he’s just ✨traumatized✨. I feel like he needs Y/N’s divine feminine energy to really get in touch with that side of himself. Anyways, I’m ranting now. SERIOUSLY HAVING THE TIME OF MY LIFE WITH THE SERIES RN OMG.

@okay-j-hannah @mitchloveswriting @itscheybaby @cevans-winchester @moon-child @rrrogertaylor @janalustare @loveangelic69 @angelxfics @blueberry-birdie @kaii-ya @rebelbagel @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99 @ifilwtmfc @dianewowslt @aloha-lush @crockercorpbakers @taysirene @take-me-to-ny @captainfrisbee @darkenwolfie @stilesbxtch @youaintabadbitchyoujustabitch @raynelbabe @michellebarista @chervbs @lovingchildperson

[writingsbychlo]

mistletoe magic | stiles stilinski

word count; 10,490

summary; stiles learns that his cute neighbour might be a witch after accidentally getting her spellbooks delivered to him instead.

notes; I know a witch!au isn’t a huge au for stiles, because he’s had evident races of magic throughout the series anyway, but just enjoy it!

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, use of magic

It had been a pretty regular Monday morning for Stiles.

At six sharp, he’d been up and awake, barely functional but stumbling through his apartment and clicking on the coffee machine, before hopping into the shower for a quick wash. When he’d emerged, the machine had just finished grinding, as always, his routine functioning like a well-oiled machine now, and he’d moved it all across into a to-go cup and left it on the counter before going to get dressed.

He’d stumbled around to find his school books and shove them into a bag, eaten two cinnamon pop tarts that had burned the tips of his fingers when he’d grabbed them straight from the toaster, and had still been chewing as he shoved his keys in his pocket and sipped at his coffee, straight into the elevator at twenty to seven.

It was a fifteen-minute walk across campus to his early morning lecture on a Monday, leaving him with a few minutes to spare, in case he saw the sweet older lady from two floors down and wanted to say ‘hi’, or the cute neighbour who lived across the hall that always made him fall over his own feet, or maybe even the kid who delivers newspapers and is always falling off of his bike. He made it on time, took some great notes, and was feeling a little more alive and welcome into his day.

At exactly ten past one, he’d been home, having gone to the library to get some study in and find his new books, and get lunch at the diner he always ate at after classes, a cheeseburger and curly fries, and grabbed his letters and a parcel from the mail slot with his housing number printed on, tucking the package under his arm and heading upstairs and back to his flat, ready to flick through his bills.

All according to plan. One year and four months away at university and he knew every day like he’d been doing it for a decade, so he was only half-way to the kitchen when he remembered the package he was clutching under his arm, coming to a complete halt, throwing the usual assortment of envelopes away to the counter, and producing the neatly wrapped bundle.

He didn’t question it, not even bothering to look at the front, figuring it was just an early delivery on the textbooks that he wasn’t expecting to get here for another three weeks, finger slipping under the folds of the brown paper and tearing it away, fingers dancing over the covers of the books, before his brows were furrowing once again.

These were definitely not his ‘intro to psychological profiling’ textbooks.

Beautiful swirls in gold, carved into dark leather across the front, Latin words he didn’t understand before he was opening the cover, brushing off a layer of dust and letting one brow arch up. The text inside was English - though, no modern - and paper that he was cautious to take care of, simply from what appeared to be the age of it, stained and worn, finger marks clear on the corner from being passed down through generations. It was handwritten, drawings in old ink that had leaked onto the paper a little, rough and coarse, and labelled doodles with names he had never heard of before.

At a glance, he would assume it to be some kind of witchcraft.

He felt on edge, suddenly. He’d left Beacon Hills to come to somewhere that no supernatural would follow, where things like werewolves were still a myth, something to be laughed at, and he swallowed thickly, looking around his apartment as though someone was going to jump out. He loved his friends, he really did, and he didn’t so much mind the supernatural when he was with them all because they protected him, but alone out here, he and his bat didn’t stand a chance.

Now, it was Christmas, he knew this from the poor excuse of a tree up in his living room, and the snow outside, and the fact that for the last six weeks, his usual mochas had been a gingerbread-spiced mocha, on the insistence of the barista who served him whenever he ventured into the little coffee shop joint, and he was growing find of it. So, he tried to be optimistic, in the spirit of festivities and all that, and texted the group chat, waiting to see if any of them had sent him the books as a present, maybe even his father or Melissa. He even texted Parrish.

Except, they all said no, and now, he was stumped. Then, as he was being extra nosey and flicking through the book, he came across a page marked with a small slip of card, the item falling out, and he cursed, having no idea which page it came from, but as he picked up the piece of paper, one of the questions in his puzzle finally gained another piece towards the jigsaw.

‘(Y/N), the spell you’re looking for is here, but be careful, it’s a strong one.’

So, the books are for his hot neighbour, the next number up from his, and it now made sense as to why he had these books - they were a mistake. It opened a new question, however, as to why you would be getting them.

He had absolutely no patience, barley remembering to flick the catch on his door so that he’d be able to get back inside, before he was striding across the hall in one, two steps, and knocking on the wood. He could hear you shuffling around inside, the soft and muffled notes of the classic rock music you’d been listening to getting turned right down to low. It only took you a further few seconds until you were opening the door, but it felt like years to him with his impatience, fingers tapping against the books agitatedly, biting the nail of the other thumb, and his foot was tapping against the floor.

When you opened the door, though, he felt like it was too soon, like he wasn’t prepared for what to say, his breath hitching in his throat as his heart leapt in his chest, eyes sweeping down along your body and widening at your bare legs, only a t-shirt hanging on your frame, rising up to reveal the edge of a pair of white lace panties as you opened the door, and he forced his eyes back up to yours, wincing as he bit down a little too harshly on his nail, and pulled it from his mouth, shaking it as his dropped to his side.

“Hey, neighbour.”

“H-Hi. Hello. Yes, hi.” He already wanted to die a little bit, he hadn't stuttered this much in front of a pretty girl since junior year in high school, even Lydia had lost this effect on him, and college really had been a growing experience for him. He’d had a fair few hook-ups, and experimented, and he wasn’t shy about flirting when he wanted to, but you always through hi right back through loops, like he was still that kid with a buzzcut.

“What can I do for you, four-A?”

“Stiles. My name is Stiles.” He waited for the usual reaction, the cringe, the eyebrows shooting up, the scowl, something to indicate that you had actually heard the pronunciation, but you only smiled a little wider.

“I know. After I introduced myself and you fell over and didn’t give me your name, I checked the mail in your post-slot. I was curious. There was a lot addressed to Mieczysłav, but then one with a handwritten address to Stiles.” You shrugged, leaning against the doorframe, and crossing your arms, and while you might seem casual, at least his degree was coming in useful for something, as your body language read an entirely different reaction, insecurity and worry rolling off of you in invisible waves of tells.

He rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand, laughing slightly. “That sounds like something I would do.”

Silence fell between you both for a second, and he couldn't help but stare, taking in every detail of your face, the way your lower lip was a little reddened, and he figured you must have been nibbling on it while working, and your hair was messy, an attempt to pin it back that seemed to have come loose and entirely ineffective, presumably from dancing, because you looked a little flushed. When you raised your brows at him a little, he realised you were waiting for him to explain himself, why he was on your doorstep, and he flushed with embarrassment shaking his head clear.

“I got your spellbooks by mistake.” He held them out, eyes widening even more, before his jaw was dropping open. “Book. Regular books. Not spell books, because that would imply magic, right? And, that’s dumb. Just regular books. I didn’t look at them, at all, not even a little bit, I promise.”

“You don’t believe in magic, then?” You took them from him, a coy smile on your lips, and you placed them down on the counter beside the door, pushing a bowl of potpourri getting pushed aside, along with your car keys and what looked like an incense burner.

“Do you?”

He was testing the water, seeing where your mind was at, and as a whistling came from your kitchen, you glanced back over to the kettle on the hob, and he thought this conversation might be about to come to an end. “Well, I think there’s always a little magic in life, even if people don’t notice it. You have to believe in magic to be able to see it. It’s like the supernatural that way.”

“And, you believe in the supernatural, huh?” He felt bad for the way he said it, because it was mocking, but he had to be sure that you weren’t messing with him, or spying on him, he had to try and find out who you were, but you only looked away as the whistling got louder, opening the door a little more and waving him inside as you walked away, and he stumbled after you and closed the door before his mind had even caught up with the movement of his feet.

Your apartment was littered with plants. The windowsills were lined with them, all brought green and blooming, even though he was sure it wasn’t the right season, and there was even a set of cactuses along a shelf near the corridor. There was a homey feel to your place, almost earthy, neutral tones and soft accents, a smell that was so calming he felt his own muscles begin to relax, and the music had changed from classic rock to some country song he was sure he’d heard in a movie somewhere but couldn't quite place it, and he followed you to the kitchen.

Rows of cookbooks and recipe folders stacked up on top of a lower cupboard, and he swallowed thickly, averting his gaze from the way your lace panties hugged your ass deliciously as you reached up for a mug, bringing back two, and pouring them both full of the herbal concoction you’d been making. On a mismatching saucer, you offered it to him, and he sniffed it carefully, but remembered his manners, mumbling a ‘thank you’, because his mother raised his right, even if he was a little suspicious of you.

“Relax, Stiles, if I was going to poison you, I wouldn’t be giving you tea made of Valerian and Lemon Balm. Do you want any honey, honey?” You grinned a little at your joke, but he shook his head, watching as you stirred a spoonful of the sticky sweetener into your own, and taking a tentative sip after blowing on the surface. It wasn’t all that bad, he had to admit, and he found his tensions slipping away a little. “It’s for relaxing, and helping with sleep.”

“It’s good.” You smiled, blowing lightly on your own, and he decided that he could busy himself by checking out your posters. An interesting arrangement, one was a band poster, the other was a chart with the phases of the moon, a third with diagrams of plants and little facts underneath, and the fourth, with symbols and drawing he didn’t quite understand. “So, you’re really embracing that whole witch thing, then?”

“Well, seeing as I am a witch, I would think it’s only appropriate.” He tried to hide his grin behind his mug, shaking his head a little, not believing that they really existed, and you didn’t miss the glint in his eyes, clearly, because there was a playful kind of offence flashing across your face. “You can’t tell me you think I’m insane, not when there’s so much of the supernatural all over you, Stiles.”

“The supernatural? Really?”

“So, you’re not the emissary to a pack of werewolves?” You challenged, his jaw dropping at the accuracy of it, and it was your turn to laugh at him. “It’s literally stitched into your aura, I sensed another supernatural the second you walked into the building.”

“I just associate with a lot of ‘em, but I’m not supernatural myself.”

“You sure about that?” He stilled, memories flashing behind his eyes of a time when he once was, and you seemed to pick up on the slightly sour mood he’d taken on, then again, he wasn’t really sure where your abilities lay, being that Scott or Derek would have simply sniffed it out on him. Your hand on his arm snapped him back to the moment, fingers squeezing lightly at his bicep. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“There was a possibility, once, but it’s gone. There’s a dark chapter in my past, and the spark I was told I once had disappeared when I got through it.”

It went quiet again after that, your fingers slipping down from his arm to take his, and you placed your cup down, the steaming brew barely touched, but he followed suit, letting himself be pulled along as you directed him back to the living room. You were distracting him, it was an obvious ploy, but he was excited to learn, and he let the sadness of remembering his possession fade away as the thrill of new knowledge took over. “I can tell you have a lot of questions, so, what do you want to know first?”

He rubbed at his chin, settling down onto the couch at the edge of the room, finding it surprisingly comfortable, and you were busying yourself around him, a little water jug in your hand as you nurtured the abundance of houseplants you owned. “How did you know about my pack? And how much do you know about them?”

“It’s in your aura, I suppose. I can just pick up hints of different things when you’re around. The wolves are obvious, I’ve been around a lot of wolves. I also get death, and I've never met a banshee, but I assume that’s what it is. I knew you were the emissary because you’re the only magic in there, I would sense other traces on you, and there’s something else I can’t quite place.” Your face screwed up a little bit as you thought about it, nose wrinkling adorably before shrugging. “Like a werewolf, but not quite. I can’t get it.”

“She’s a werecoyote.”

You paused your pouring, turning to look at him, eyes flicking lightly around his being, before smiling slightly to yourself, and going back to your task. “Huh. Interesting.”

“Have you been a witch your whole life?”

“Since the day I was born, but I didn’t know or start practising until I was older. It just kinda’ happens, comes out of nowhere at a certain age, you start to realise you have abilities.” You had moved onto using a dropper to give little drips of water to cacti and succulents, standing on a small step stool as you did.

“Do you have to go to a school, like Harry Potter? Do you have a wand?”

You laughed at that, a genuine and hearty laugh, and you finished up your tasks, legs folding underneath yourself and you smirked a little at him as you sat down and got comfortable. “You wish, Stilinski. It’s not like that, it's more of an earthly connection than magic. It’s why my plants are so healthy. I can brew stuff, make little potions-” You motioned a hand over the jars lining the shelves on the walls, his eyes scanning over each one, picking out the neatly written titles across the fronts. “-I can cast very light spells, but it’s not the sort of thing where you can curse people, or teleport.”

“So, you can’t curse people to turn into frogs?”

“No, unfortunately not.” He was sure your giggle was the sweetest he’d ever heard, and he dared to twist himself around a little more, inching slightly closer to you across the couch. “I can do some stuff, like make your skin break out or give you a rash that won’t go away until I let it, and I can even give you headaches and such, but I don’t like to dabble in that sort of stuff. I much prefer protection charms.”

“Protection charms?” His heart skipped a little beat at the way your face lit up as you nodded, and he was intrigued, interest piqued. “I could use one of those, y’know, I’m incredibly clumsy and often get into supernatural trouble when I’m home. Hasn’t been so bad since I got here. Will you make me one?”

Your eyes left him, bottom lip nibbled between your teeth, and for a second he had worried he’d messed up, unsure on how witch spellcasting etiquette worked, but then you were moving across the room, opening up the cabinet on the other side of the room, and inside the doors and wooden frame hung what must be close to a thirty different decorative charms. Some were dreamcatchers or garlands hanging on the inside of the door, others were handcrafted little ornaments sitting on the shelves and filling them up, and your fingers were flittering over them all.

When you found what you were looking for, you lifted it out, a dream catcher that was bright and colourful and a little odd-looking, before bringing it back over to him, and presenting him with it cautiously. “You already made me one?”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t let the cute guy from across the hall get any more injuries. I watched you fall over five times in your first week living here. You’re really clumsy.”

He felt heat rush to his cheeks, and yet he couldn't help the goofy grin that travelled across his features, not mentioning the fact that he noticed you sitting considerably closer to home when you took your seat once again. He was embarrassed for two reasons, the first being that you had noticed his innate penchant for ridiculous injuries, but more overwhelmingly, the second being that you still thought he was cute. College might have helped him bloom a little, but when he had a crush, he was still a bumbling mess, and he didn’t know quite how to respond.

He busied himself with taking in the details of the dreamcatcher. Somehow, despite this being the first real conversation that the two of you had ever had, passing and fleeting chats in the halls and elevator not counting, you had managed to capture his entire essence, he could already tell. The strings were made of wool, chunky and all different colours, a mix of yellows and blues, woven in together and tangled in strange patterns, but beautiful nonetheless, and the little accents were what made it complete.

A button that had fallen off of one of his flannels, he recognised the distinctive wooden piece, and it was woven into the design, along with a blue ribbon in the same colour of the jeep that was tied in a bow, and a wooden twig tangled in it. Dangling on more pieces of wool from the bottom was a keyring he was sure he’d lost after leaving it downstairs overnight, the Yoda on it looking cleaner than he remembered, and you must've cleaned it. There was also a black feather, and a sprig of some kind of dried herb that he didn't recognise, but enjoyed the smell anyway.

It was intricate and personal, and he felt chuffed just to know that you’d made one for him, a little security and peace washing over him to know that someone was out here looking after him, completely unmaliciously, simply because you wanted to.

“This is incredible.” You let out a breath of relief, he recognised it in the way your body slumped a little, and he placed it down carefully on the coffee table beside you both, reaching out to take your hand in his, and daring to lace your fingers together and squeeze in gratitude, and you held onto him yourself, gaze dropping down to your connected hands. In a bold move of your own, you lifted your other hand, holding onto his with both of yours, and his thumb lifted out to brush lightly over your skin. “You’re the reason I don’t get papercuts and splinters anymore.”

“And you are very welcome for that.” You teased him back, and an easy kind of harmony fell between you both, your presence being more comfortable simply having only just really begun to meet you than he ever had been with someone new. It was strange, to feel so relaxed and at home with you, the way you put his fears at ease and soothed every worry without even trying, making him feel welcome and accepted, like he’d known you for years, not just shy of an hour. “Will you tell me about your pack?”

“You really want to know?” He couldn’t mask his surprise, and you nodded, excitement gleaming in your eyes, and he felt a surge of pride swell up in his system at the idea of getting to boast about his friends completely honestly for the first time in his life. There was no threat, he wasn’t showing off their skills as a way to try and ward off a threat or intimidate someone, but he simply wanted everyone else to be as awed by them as he was, and he didn’t have to hide any supernatural secrets from you. “Shall I start at the beginning?”

“Is it a long story?”

“Very long.” He confirmed, a shy laugh leaving you, before you were shifting again.

“How about I go and make us some fresh tea, then?” You were on your feet, wandering away to the kitchen as soon as he’d offered his affirmations of the idea, and he decided to follow after you, already beginning to blather about Peter Hale.

Hours seemed to pass by, as he spoke to you, two more pots of tea being made, and you’d broken out your snack-store for him, before the two of you had ordered pizza. He’d made himself at home, too, keys and phone sitting abandoned on the table, shoes kicked off on the floor, and feet stretched out along the couch. You were sitting at the opposite end, your legs stretched out in his direction, and one of his hands was sitting on your ankle, fingers drawing patterns on the soft skin there absentmindedly as his other hand was used to gesture wildly around himself.

He told you it all, confessing right from the beginning as he encountered Derek Hale, who liked to lurk in the woods, which had made you crack up as he told you about how the man was basically now the alpha, even if Scott was officially the alpha, and he’d told you about Jackson’s kanima phase, which had made you crack up even more as you claimed he deserved it.

You’d been shocked by his homicidal English teacher, and comforted him when he spilled his heart to you over the nogitsune incident he hated to think about, accepting your hush happily, and revelling in the smell of your hair when you’d pressed in close to him, before retreating to your seat.

He told you all about the benefactor and the dread doctors, and about Allison’s death, which he still blamed himself for when he was on a low day, and you’d used your thumb to clear away the tear that had fallen from his cheek, leaving him blushing and breathless for a second when you’d pressed a light kiss to his cheekbone just after.

You had scooted closer to him and stayed there near the end of his tales, tucked under his arm, playing with his fingers over your shoulders as he rambled about how alone he’d felt while taken by the Wild Hunt, thoughts that he’d always kept locked up in his own mind, never having shared with another person before.

“You really got the short end of the ‘supernatural encounters’ stick then, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart, that is the understatement of the century.” You lifted your head from his shoulder, your feet nudging together on the coffee table, the reindeer themed fluffy socks on your feet playing with the patchy and worn door knitted socks he’d had for years, worn to keep warm during the winter, even though your apartment was nice and toasty, the heaters running and the radiators on, and it was much cosier than his place had ever been.

The Christmas lights on a timer had come on, flickering around the place once the light had started fading, hours flashing by in the blink of an eye, a hazy glow cast over the apartment and creating a whole new range of shadows. “Do you want me to make charms for your friends?”

He watched you for a moment longer, trying to discern whether you were serious, and when he caught no gesture of ill-will, or hesitation, or hidden-motives, he smiled. “You’d do that?”

“Seems like you all need it.”

He shrugged a little, smiling when you rested your forehead against his, fingers playing together still, but feet stilling in their game of footsie. “I can’t believe I waited this long to get to know you. You’re, like, the coolest chick I’ve ever met.”

His eyes fluttered closed, he couldn't’ help it, noses bumping together as you both simply drowned in the moment, in what the moment was leading up to, where you both knew this was going but were revelling in the simple but exhilarating tension that was crackling with electricity in the millimetres of space between your lips and his. You were so close to him that he could feel it more than hear it when you whispered some words he didn’t quite understand, your breath fanning over his face in a dreamy sigh, and it took his hazed brain a second to catch up, before he was pulling back just enough to catch your eyes, one hand coming up to rest over your cheek as he turned to face you fully.

“Oh, my God. Did you just cast a spell?”

“Look up.” He was hesitant to pull back much further, but did so anyway, and he chuckled slightly as he spotted the little green plant beginning to sprout from the ceiling. Vines were still strengthening along the beam, and the leaves were beginning to form right before his eyes, white berries hanging between the green stems, and Stiles shook his head, in complete awe as he looked at it.

You were staring up to, eyes focused on the plant as it bloomed and he assumed you were concentrating on its development, but he couldn't hold back anymore, two hands on your cheeks, pulling your face back to his, and your lips barely parted to speak before his mouth was colliding with your own. A squeak left you, and he wanted to grin at being able illicit such a sound from you, but the temptation to kiss was just enough for him to contain himself. When your mind finally caught up, you were kissing him back just as eagerly, a soft sigh leaving you. “You are fucking adorable.”

The words were whispered into your mouth, he felt you shake with a soft laugh under his hold, before you were holding onto him just as tightly in return. One of your hands wrapped around his wrists, the other sliding over his bicep to his shoulder, before slipping down underneath, and smoothing over the front of his chest. He puffed out a little under your touch, pulling away for a quick breath, groaning slightly at the way your nails dug into his skin as he did, and then, he was diving right back into you.

Your hand slipped down to rest over his heart, the organ thudding under your hand, and he felt like it was going to burst right out of his chest, but as he pressed a little further into you, a shock like an electrocution was racing right through his body, a kind of jolt that was thoroughly exhilarating, and he pulled away, eyes wide as he stared at you.

You looked just as shocked as he expected he did too, his hands dropped down as he watched sparks and electricity crackle between your fingers and his, your brows raising at him. “Thought you said you had no magic left after.. y’know..”

He couldn’t drag his eyes away from it, your fingers weaving with his, a loud snapping sounding as a particularly bright flare went off, and he flinched a little, jaw dropping and a whine slipping from him as you contained it all the sight disappeared before his eyes. “So, there really are sparks flying between us, huh?”

He regretted the words the moment he’d said them, expecting to see on your face the same kind he’d always gotten from Malia or Lydia when he made those kinds of cheesy puns that only he enjoyed, even Scott daring to fix him with a bored or blank look, and Derek would simply glare, but much to his surprise, you laughed. It was fond, with a roll of your eyes and a huff to preempt it, but you laughed nonetheless, and he felt himself somehow manage to brighten even further. “That was cheesy.”

“I know.” He beamed, shifting a little, hands sinking down to your hips to pull you closer to himself as he settled back into the couch, and your hand pressed to the cushions beside his head, the other one coming up to weave into his hair lightly.

“I loved it. I am quite a fan of puns.”

“That’s good, because I usually have a lot of them.” He leaned up, daring himself to be bold enough to close that gap once again, and he could feel your lashes tickling his cheeks as you nuzzled into him a little more. “If I kiss you again, will those sparks happen this time, too?”

“If I stop controlling it, they will.”

“Stop controlling it, sweetheart.” He felt you move to nod your affirmations, but dipped his head in time, proud of his own reflexes as he caught your lips, feeling the hand in his hair tighten, and he was so glad he’d decided to grow it out all those years ago, because right now, he was losing all sense of himself in the way your nails would scratch across his scalp, or the delicious burning that flared over his skin for a split second when you pulled on his hair, before you were rubbing it softly, fingers working in tandem timing with your lips, teasing over his own.

That same feeling took up, a sparking that felt like fireworks, like energy surging through him, escaping at his fingertips in every place that he touched you, one palm smoothing along your back to somewhere that was definitely too lose to be respectable, as the other held onto your cheek still. You were taking control, your tongue darting out to trace over his lower lip, bribing him to part them but he needed no convincing, letting your tongue meet his own only a second after you’d made the request, equally breathy and needy noises escaping you both at the slow and wet drag of the muscles over one another.

His lungs were burning, lips beginning to sting as his assault on your mouth continued, his neck straining to hold this angle, and yet the more you kissed him, the more that the hazy feeling of getting to be with you like this raced through his body was the more he became addicted to needing more, chasing a high that he didn’t even know he wanted until now, like an addict finding his next hit.

You seemed to pick up on it all, as though you’d read all of his thoughts, because the second he’d had the lingering thoughts, you were settling yourself across his lap, a leg on either side of his own as you seated yourself down, and he couldn't help the way his hips bucked up a little to meet you, or the way his hand slid down fully to rest on your ass.

After all, as much as he’d gone through the make him grow up emotionally, physically he was still a horny-teen college boy, and you were one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, sitting half-naked in his lap and sucking on his lower lap while doing something with your tongue that was making him feel like he couldn't even breathe properly for how aroused he was.

Maybe you could feel the growing erection underneath of you, maybe you couldn't, but he’d stopped caring about being embarrassed around you about three hours ago when he’d had to tell you all about the time he’d once dropped a condom in Coach’s class in front of the entire classroom, and you’d laughed so much your face had gone red and you’d hidden it form him by pressing into his shoulder.

You were something he felt like he was dreaming up, like any moment now he’d wake up in a small puddle of his own drool with his face pressed into the desk of his lecture hall, the lights turned out and another note left by his kind professor to get more sleep at home, and to lock up when he left, before you were giggling a little at him, pulling away and stealing a few more pecks as you did, and he wondered if you really could read his mind, heat flushing his cheeks.

“Are you reading my mind or something?”

He felt stupid even as he mumbled te words, especially when it only seemed to heighten your entertainment, but you shook your head. “I can’t read your mind, I can just kinda’ sense your mood, I guess. It’s the connection, you were clearly thinking something funny, and I don’t know what it was, but I got a sudden rush of amusement.”

“That’s pretty fucking incredible.” He whispered, letting you peck his mouth a few more times, simply sitting there with puckered lips as he tried not to smile too much, before he was tucking hair away behind your ears and finally you were opening your eyes, and at this point, he really should learn to stop being surprised by new developments with you. “Holy shit, your eyes are glowing!”

“So are yours.” You winked, the bright purple being a shade that was so captivating and beautiful on you that he couldn’t look away, even when you leaned away from him to grab his phone, raising it up to snap a picture for him, and forcing his gaze down to it. Much like you’d said, his eyes were beginning to hint in with a faint purple, the neon shading beginning to drip into his irises and take over from the usual golden-brown that resided there. “You never made out with another witch before?”

He pinched at your ass for your cheeky comment, taking his phone and throwing it away to the side, grinning when you yelped at his painless attack. “I didn’t even know witches really existed before today. Besides, what makes you think I'm one? I had a spark once, but as I said, that died out. Nothing truly magical.”

“I don’t know, you’re having a pretty strong connection with me right now, aren’t you?” Your arms looped around his neck, snuggling in a little closer to him, and he bit back a groan as you shuffled in his lap. “I think you’re underestimating yourself, you just don’t know how to tap into your magic, you have to believe in it to see it.”

“You really think so?”

He was vulnerable and he knew it showed, he’d gone his entire life being unsure as to where all his energy and twitching came from, as to why he’d always felt a draw to the earth; the preserve and the woods, and justice and balance, and why he’d somehow fit into a supernatural world with far more elegance and ease than he ever had the normal one, and maybe this was the explanation. “I really do, Stiles.”

“Will you teach me?”

“I would love to.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and then to the spot below your ear, before flicking his tongue out a little to drag over the sensitive patch that lay there, before moving down your neck. He didn’t want to mark you without your consent, he wasn’t sure what was going to come of all of this and where it would go, but he was more than happy to lick and bite lightly at your skin, finding the sweet spot that made your hips roll down into his own and a sound of need and desperation to leave you that was like music to his ears, before his hips were bucking up to meet you once again.

“Y’know when you said that you could feel what I was feeling?”

“Uh-huh?” You were distracted, your reply seeming somewhat faded and distant, and he chuckled lightly, before making his way back up to your mouth now that you’d both had a chance to catch your breaths once again.

“Does that mean everything?”

“Are you asking if I know just how much you want to fuck me right now? Because yes, I do know.” He choked a little on his breath, your hand in his hair pulling his head back so that you could meet his gaze, your lower lip held between you teeth, flesh going a darker pink, and he longed to be the one biting that lip for you. “Trust me, the sentiment is returned.”

“It is?”

“Oh, yeah.” He wasn’t used to women being so confident with wanting him, being so unashamed of it, or of even wanting him at all. Most of his hook-ups had been slightly drunk make-outs and sloppy grinding, or booty calls and meetings in closets at parties. He got more action than he ever did in high school, he’d finally grown into his limbs and his looks, but that didn’t take away the surprise that still happened every time someone as pretty as you even offered him the time of day.

“Like, right here? Right now?”

“Been thinking about how much I want to ride you on my couch for like an hour and a half, now.” Stiles couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up in his throat, lips parting as you ran a finger over his swollen lips, a cheeky glint flashing over purple eyes as you looked at him.

“You might just be perfect for me.”

“I like the sound of that.”

A toothy smile was offered to you, before he was pulling you back in towards him, hands slipping down to lay resting on your thighs as soon as your lips had found his once again. The heat seemed to have passed, and while the kiss was still completely intoxicating, there was something a little more tender about it, too. It wasn’t nearly as rushed and frantic, the sloppy kisses you’d shared as you learned one another’s ticks had passed, and as your lips worked slowly with his own, Stiles found that he much preferred this kind of kiss.

This was the kind of kiss that he could picture himself sharing with you in many settings. A sleepy, early morning kiss, when you were still between the land of consciousness and the realm of unconsciousness. Or, late nights, when he’d fall asleep while studying, and he would let you drag him to his feet and to bed. Or, simply when he would finish a lecture, or get you coffee, or meet you for dinner. The point was, Stiles already knew he wanted to kiss you at all times of the day, and to hold onto you, and to watch you brew little spells at the stove while holding onto you from behind.

Your lips were wet when you pulled away, eyes sparkling as you looked at him, a bright shade of royal purple, like silk and rich violet on flower petals, and you looked utterly ethereal. “Do you have any idea just how beautiful you are?”

“You’re sweet-talking me.” You teased, bumping the tip of your nose against his, and he shook his head.

“No, I’m not, I’m just being honest with you. I’ve been into you for a long time, even if I didn’t quite have my mind in the right place to actually say it.” You huffed out a little laugh, your eyes averting from his own so that you could try and hide your bashful little expression, but he didn’t miss it.

“Well, I’ve been admiring you a little, too. I should’ve had my deliveries sent to you sooner, if I knew it was going to end like this.” As if to punctuate your words, you rolled your hips down into his, reminding him of the solid erection pressing into his jeans, his fingers digging a little firmer into your skin, and he pushed your shirt up higher, the soft cotton of your panties revealed to him.

“These are just fucking sinful. Do you normally wander around your house in underwear and band-tees?” He tugged at it a little, before daring to tuck his hand underneath the fabric, trailing up, and a poorly-concealed groan left him as he found no further obstructions, fingers closing over one of your breasts, squeezing lightly as he palmed at your chest. “Well, clearly not all of your underwear.”

“I tend to, I keep it warm in here, for all the plants.” Your back arched up into his hand, one of your own closing over his outside of your shirt, as your other held onto his shoulder, fingers leaving crescent-moon shaped marks he was sure, and the rocking of your hips into his own only seemed to increase.

“I’d love to see you in one of my flannels sometime, just like this.”

“Give me your shirt and you’ll see it sooner than you think.” You teased, his brows raising, before he was pulling his hands back just long enough to lean into you, stripping the garment off as best as he could, leaving him in a thin black t-shirt as you took the item from him. He wanted to whine out as you stood up, choosing instead to replace the pressure of your core over his with his hand instead, palming at his cock through the thick denim, and you grinned as you watched him, yet he didn’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed.

You stood before him, draping his shirt across his spread knees as he slumped further into the cushions, getting himself comfortable and popping the button on his jeans, swollen lower lip being nibbled as you played with the hem of your shirt. Your hips were swinging to the beat of the song, and then, you raised the garment up and over your head, letting it drop away to the carpet, his jaw dropping as he looked at you.

You picked up his flannel, pulling it up your arms, and leaving it open at the front, just barely covering your tits. You were an angel and also the devil, tempting him to do so many wrong things. Stretching his hands out toward you, he beckoned you back into his lap, an act you were more than happy to take as you bounded over to him, a pep on your few short steps, before you were settling back into his lap.

“Perfect.”

He let his hands find the flaps of the flannel, pulling it open wide enough to be able to admire your tits fully, letting you push your hair back away from your shoulders for his unobstructed view. Sealing one hand around your waist, he dragged you up closer, until you were almost pressed to him fully, before dipping his head down. His tongue dragged over a hardened nipple, taking the taut peak into his mouth and sucking harshly, as your hand wound into his hair. You tugged, roughly, a groan that vibrated along your entire body leaving him and making you shiver, and you made the prettiest little noises above him.

He switches sides, making sure to give the other half of your chest that same kind of attention, leaving wet marks and stinging watches along your skin that would become bright purple marks in the morning to match the colour of your eyes, and he just hoped you kept him around long enough to see them when they did become beautiful and prominent. He wanted to see his good work, he wanted to see the way he got to mark you up and leave his touch all over your body.

“Stiles..”

“I do love how you sound moaning my name, princess, but I’m not sure how much longer I can last when you're making noises like that and grinding yourself all over my cock like this.” You grinned, letting him kiss his way back up your chest and throat until he was taking your lips with his own. Your hands were moving down, tugging at his zipper as far as it would go, hid hips bucking up into his hand as he felt you drag a nail along his covered erection, breathy sounds between you both when you pulled away.

He only had to lift himself up for a moment, before you were tugging at his jeans, helping him to get them just far enough down his thighs for his boxers to be able to follow. His cock was throbbing, painfully hard and desperate for you, leaking precum along his skin, and he gave himself some form of relief. You were watching him, eyes wide as he pumped his length in one hand, the other dipping under your skirt rubbing over your core, and you bundled up your shirt for him.

“Y’know, all those times I thought about us, a quick fuck on your couch wasn’t how I had wanted our first time to be, but then again, I didn’t expect the cute chick across the hall to be a witch, wither, so..”

He used his thumb to drag your panties to the side, your sodden folds revealed to him, and he slipped two fingers into your dripping core with ease. “I’ll let you take it slow next time, I swear, but right now, I’d really like it if you’d fuck me.”

He could only nod, heart skipping a beat at the promise of another time. Your legs shifted, muscles clenching as he forced himself to take his touch away from your core and bringing his fingers up to his mouth, sucking your sweet essence from the thin digits. As you leaned over him, he was sure to line himself up, and then, you were sinking down onto him, your forehead flailing to his as your mouth fell open, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“You’re so fucking big.”

“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispered the words, a little breathless and hanging on the edge of his orgasm already, and you seemed just as close, because as you finally sank all the way down and settled into his lap again, he could feel every pulse within your walls as you hugged around him.

It took him a moment, staving off his climax so that he didn’t come just from getting to feel you like this, and you looped your arms around his neck gently to find your purchase. Your nails were scratching lightly at the hairs at the base of his neck, his flannel once again flapping around you, panties pushed to the side to let him have access to your centre, and it was deliciously filthy.

Once you were settled, you circled your hips, a test movement, pleasure spiking in both of your systems and it felt like the temperature in the room was shooting upwards. Stiles could already feel sweat beginning to bead along his skin in a thin layer, and you pressed yourself in closer to him. Each time you shifted your hips you were moving a little more, every rock of your body into his, you were pulling yourself up just a little higher to be able to drop yourself back down onto his cock, stretching and squeezing around him.

You felt like velvet, slick and warm as you sheathed around him. You were precise and deliberate, and he couldn't help the wonton sounds that were leaving you with every drop down onto his cock, before you were taking him up to see stars every time, leaving the both of you resting in the clouds. Panted breaths, a scream in the back of your throat that tried to break out each time as you gave him broken moans of his name, picking up your pace further and further each time.

Once you were stable above him, you were moving with purpose, fast and quick as you rode him, gaining more confidence each time, and he was gripping you so tightly that there would be fingerprints all over your hips in the morning. He helped you go, lifting you up each time, only to pull you back down into his lap, thrusting up with a weak effort to meet you, but feeling you go wild each time. That same energy was back, crackling with more force, surging through him like nothing he had ever felt.

Stiles was in college, he was away from home and the weight of being the Sheriff’s kid for the first time, and he had experimented. He’d gotten drunk, and high, and hungover, but this was a whole new kind of thrill; it was like lighting up with fireworks and adrenaline all at once, like creating a bond with another person, and a tingling spread throughout his entire body as your magic bonded with his own. He hadn't felt this kind of singing in his blood since the day he’d managed to finish the circle with the mountain ash back when he was only sixteen, or breaking through the wild hunt barrier at almost eighteen.

These kind of thrills were rare for him, but they’d never been this strong, and as the two of you moved as one in the most intimate way that two people could, your mouth coming up to claim his as you silenced yourself and him, growing louder and more desperate as you went, he felt that final high beginning to build.

“‘M so close, honey.” His voice had taken on that same kind of scratchy rasp that he had in the mornings before he even broke into his day, “Oh, God, keep goin’.”

He knew his words were beginning to grow slurred, and he could barely buck his hips up into you. As everything within his body began to light up, he felt like all of his muscles were going lifeless, his body going boneless, because the heat was consuming him. He couldn't hold it back, he’d been waiting for so long to feel you this way, and his lips could barely even move back against your own as he went slack-jawed, exploding within your tight heat.

The send that he was shooting over the edge, you were following right after him, crying out his name into his mouth as you kept going against him, until you couldn't clumping down into his body as you trembled, and Stiles felt as though you’d milked absolutely everything from him that he had to offer. There was a crackling along his skin from everywhere that your fingertips smoothed over, sliding down from his shoulders so that you could press your cheek to the spot instead, fanning breaths rushing over his neck as you tried to catch your breath, racing heart just like his was.

You didn’t even bother to move from him, letting him throb within your walls with each flutter you made and each shift, and if you kept it up, he was sure he’d be ready for a second round, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he had that in him. Resting his head back against the edge of the couch, he let you lift yourself up and off of him finally, your legs shaking as you stood, offering him a weak smile as he took in your through fucked out state, before taking wobbly steps away from him, and disappearing down the hall.

He heard a door close, assuming you’d gone to the bathroom, and he leaned over to the coffee table to snatch up a few tissues, to clean himself up with, before sorting himself out too. He did the bare minimum, not even bothering to do up his jeans once he had them pulled back up, but he stretched out along the length of the couch to lay down, an arm popped under his head, and a little laugh on his lips as he did.

He took a moment to glance around, not missing the way that the plants all seemed to be blooming particularly beautifully, seeming more alive than ever. As he lifted up a hand before his face, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together, a spark travelled between the tips, and he felt a little in awe just at the sight of it.

“It's pretty incredible, right?”

He startled, jumping a little, before turning to look at you and propping himself up on his elbows as you lingered in the doorway. You had changed, your hair pulled back and out of your face, missing a few odd strands and you’d buttoned up his flannel along your body, mismatched and hanging unevenly, but still adorable. You took slower steps over to him, waiting for a second as you stood beside him, before he was lifting his arms and making it clear to you that you could lay with him, a smile gracing both of your faces as you flattened yourself along him, cheek pressed over his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist.

“You like feeling your magic, then?”

He lifted his palm, holding it to yours and admiring the final dying flares he saw, as the energy began to dissipate and absorb into his body and yours fully. “I’m not used to feeling special myself. I’ve always been a behind the scenes, research, kinda’ guy. I’m not used to being one of the main players.”

“Oh, hush. You told me your story, you were most definitely a key player, Stiles.” He shrugged under you, letting you cross your arms over his chest and prop your chin on them.

“Yeah, but I never really felt that way, and now I feel like I have something to offer.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips over his jaw with a sweet kiss, and he felt like he could most definitely get used to this feeling. Can I meet them?”

“My pack?”

You nodded, seeming a little shy now, and joy raced through him at the fact that you saw enough of a future with him to want to meet his friends an get to know them, and to once again be able to be completely open and honest with everyone, never having to hide anything from anyone, and being able to let you fully and wholly into his life. It was a surprise, because the more he’d thought about his future late at night when lying alone in his bed, he was so sure he’d never be able to really settle down, because he could never let someone in on his life in every single way, but with you, that wasn’t a problem.

“I would absolutely love that.”

“Really?” You were studying him carefully, trying to ensure that he was telling the truth, and he gave you the most honey look that he possibly could, before lifting his head to meet your lips as he leaned in.

Soft and delicate, like a kiss that was shared between deep romance and longtime lovers, and he rested a hand on your cheek, holding you to him, and rolling you to the side, to sandwich you between the couch and his body Your thigh came up to rest over his legs, his palm slipping from your face to rest on your leg, drawing patterns on the skin until you pulled away to breathe, lips detaching from his as you whined a little. You stayed close, though, a soft look etched onto your features;

“I just want to meet a few more supernatural people, and get to know others who I don’t have to hide from.”

“Well, you definitely don’t have to hide from them, and you’ll love them, just as much as they’ll love you. We’re a pretty odd group, you’ll fit right in.”

“You’re right about that ‘odd bunch’ thing. I’ve never met a banshee, or a - what did you call it? - werecoyote.” That was an undeniable truth, your head coming back down to rest on his chest as he shrugged, unable to deny that you were right. “Your wolves sound nice, too. All the other wolves I’ve met have been overly territorial and closed off.”

“Well, Derek used to be like that, but we’ve pulled him around a little. He is still broody, though.” You laughed at his joke, a sound that made his heart burst open slightly and bleed with affection, all for you, as you continued to take more and more pieces of his heart with every act, and he was falling in love with you faster than he’d ever known was possible. “Don’t take notice of any of his lurking, by the way, it’s his twisted way of showing concern and care.”

“I’ll remember that, and if I ever catch him hiding behind a tree, I’ll know that it’s real friendship.”

“He does that, I’m serious, don’t underestimate him. I think my dad arrested him for stalking, once.”

“I think your dad would be who I am most scared to meet.” A fond tone in your voice, before he was pressing a kiss to your forehead, humming under his breath.

“He’ll love you the most, don’t worry.”

Silence fell between you both then, and he busied himself with tracing illegible drawings into your skin, simply enjoying feeling so close to you. It was irrationally domestic, and you were the final piece in his college life and college experience that was missing. Despite not being a  wolf, he was unequivocally part of a wolf pack, and being surrounded so closely by such a tight-knit group of friends for those years had made him dependent on company and reliability, and he had been feeling so alone since leaving for college.

Scott had Malia, Lydia had rekindled things with Jordan, and even Derek had been (begrudgingly, to begin) hooked up with a deputy by his father, and they’d been on a few dates.

The last time he’d been home, he’d felt like a fifth, seventh, or was it ninth wheel, when Liam and Hayden were taken into account? He had been feeling awfully lonely lately, and he was glad to finally find someone that fit him perfectly, matching him like a glove.

“When I do introduce you to my friends, my pack, y’know, and my dad..”

You lifted your head, a little crease across your cheek from the fold in his shirt, and he rubbed the spot with his thumb gently, an attempt to remove the mark. “Yeah?”

“What should I introduce you as?”

“A witch.” You deadpanned, and he knew immediately that you’d clearly know exactly what he meant, but were playing with him, and he pouted, fixing you with a mock glare, before you were laughing to yourself over your joke, something so undeniably cute that he couldn't even pretend to be mad about it. “What do you want to introduce me as?”

Nudging your jaw a little with his, he puckered his lips, tempting you down to kiss him, and you were more than happy to press a series of sweet and short kisses to his lips. “I’d really like to formally claim you to be my girlfriend?”

He mumbled the words into your mouth, feeling your lips flick up at the edges in a smile as you gave him a kiss that was a little more firm, a little more loving and powerful, before whispering your reply; “Then we’re on the same page, because I’d like to introduce you to my coven back home as my boyfriend.”

“You have a coven?” He pulled back, a gasp of shock, and you giggled at him.

“That I do. Maybe I should tell you about them?”

“You absolutely should.” He insisted, his craving for knowledge taking over, and he couldn't have been more glad to whatever deity was watching over benevolently that he’d taken the choice to stay the first time knowledge had been offered, because it had led him to where he was now.

“It might take all night, maybe you should go and get a change of clothes. Get comfortable.”

“Is that an invitation to stay the night?” You only nodded, letting him roll you back over onto your back as he kissed at your neck. “I’ll buy you take out if you cuddle me later?”

“Cuddling and dinner? Glad I get to call you my boyfriend, now.”

“Not nearly as glad as I am to call you my girlfriend. My little witch.” His lips sealed over yours, silencing your laughs against his mouth as you teased him for the nickname, and he pinched a little at your sides. The mistletoe overhead grew a little more, a few of the berries dropping away and bouncing off of his back as the plant became bolder, just like the rest, that energy beginning to grow once again, as you got lost in each other’s touch.