#but also Sheriff Stilinski with scars from the burns on his back would be so hot

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

I refuse to believe that Sheriff Stilinski would respond to the call and arrive at the Hale house to find it on fire and not run in to try and save them.

I whole heartedly believe that Sheriff Stilinski ran into the Hale House when it was up in flames and got burnt because of it.

In fact, there is one character who was canonically in the house when it was on fire but not in the house when it collapsed/when everyone else died.

Peter.

Sheriff Stilinski got Peter out but before he could go back for anyone else, the house collapsed.

This is my headcanon now and I will die on his hill.

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.9

Word Count: 1,783

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall (brief), Allison Argent (brief), Lydia Martin (brief), Isaac Lahey (brief), Kate Argent, Witch!Reader

Pairings: Eventual Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: some angst, cliffhanger

A/N: ----

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

“Isaac, I can carry my own bag,” you sighed, walking into the school.

“I-I know, I just wanna help you,” he said.

“I don't need help,” you looked around, noticing everyone staring at you, whispering to each other.

You rolled your eyes and walked past them.

“(Y/N), I heard about what happened to your mom. I’m so sorry for your loss,” you heard Allison and Lydia run up to you, wrapping their arms around you.

You groaned slightly, still in some pain, but mostly confused. You knew both of them, and even after being trapped in the school together, you wouldn't count them as friends.

“I need to go to my locker, I’ll be back,” Isaac waved, walking away.

“Why is everyone staring at me?” you asked them.

“They know that you were at the school when Derek killed the janitor and that he almost killed you,” Allison explained.

You clenched your first.

“You guys were there too,” you said.

“Well, protection of minors,” Lydia shrugged.

“Right,” you sighed.

“Oh also, (Y/N), my dad asked me to tell you to call him when you have a moment,” Allison remembered.

You hesitated, thinking about what it could be about.

“Yeah, okay. I gotta go,” you waved them off, grabbing your crutches and walking to your class.

---

You heard your phone buzz, getting a text from Derek.

Will you reply?

You can’t avoid me forever 

I’m really sorry (Y/N), please just talk to me

Meet me after class?

I’m sorry

If you don’t want to talk to me, at least come pick up your stuff. I have some boxes for you.

Please just get back to me

You turned your phone off, putting it aside.

There was a lot on your mind, you were still mad at Derek, you were still mad at everyone and everything. And now, Chris wanted to talk to you about who knows what. This day could not get any worse, or so you thought. You heard the bell ring, packing up your things to go to your locker when you saw Sheriff Stilinski walk past the classroom.

“Noah?” you called, quickly walking out of your classroom.

“(Y/N), how are you doing, kid?” he asked you, turning to face you.

“I’m okay, what’s going on?” you asked, looking at the men wearing suits standing near him.

“We’re trying to find any lead we can on Derek. We even bought in the state detective,” he motioned to two of the men.

Hunters, you tensed up.

“Oh,” was all you replied.

“Do you need anything? Anything at all?” he asked.

“No,” you shook your head.

“If you need anything at all, just call me or Stiles,” he said.

You nodded your head as he gave you a small hug.

“Stay safe, kid,” he kissed your forehead before walking away.

---

After finishing your tutoring session with Isaac, you went home, exhausted. It took a while to convince Isaac that you were okay, but eventually, he agreed to go home.

You sat on your couch, laying back when you felt someone standing behind you.

“Víen,” you shouted, pushing him against a wall.

“It’s just me,” Derek panted.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked.

“Can you let go? Can’t breathe,” he said, strained.

You took a step back, as he slid down, gasping for air.

“Why are you here? How did you get in?” you asked.

“I needed to give you some stuff, and you didn't answer your phone. I came through the window, you should lock them, by the way,” he said, standing up.

“I live on the fifth floor,” you replied.

“Wolves can climb,” he shrugged.

“I told you to leave me alone,” you sighed.

“I came to drop off some of your stuff,” he answered.

“Well, you dropped them off, you can go now,” you looked away from him.

He walked near you, putting his hand on your cheek as you closed your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Will you go, please?” you begged.

“(Y/N),” he started before giving you a concerned look.

“What?” you looked up at him.

“I thought the alpha left a scar on your face,” he started.

You frowned, as you grabbed your crutches, limping to the mirror.

You gasped, realizing it disappeared.

“It’s gone…. how is it gone?” you asked him. You saw Derek’s face fall, as he turned your head slightly.

“How deep did the nail go?” Derek asked. You felt your heart rate increase slightly.

“I don’t know, pretty deep I think… You don’t think,” your eyes went wide.

“(Y/N),” he started.

“No, there’s no way. It's been days, I would've known,” you said, a hint of panic in your voice.

“Yeah, but it would take longer for someone like you. You don’t always feel it immediately,” Derek said.

“No, that's crazy, okay?! I’m not turning,” you raised your voice as your eyes glew purple before they turned yellow.

“Your eyes. It’s a sign,” you shut your eyes tightly, letting out a shaky breath.

“No, there’s no way. Look, I broke my leg. That proves it,” you stuttered, trying to convince yourself.

“Have you tried walking on it?” Derek asked.

“And hurt myself more?!” you exclaimed.

“(Y/N), there’s a fucking full moon tonight! We need to know now!” he yelled.

You dropped your crutches as you took a breath, taking a step forward as your eyes watered. It didn’t hurt at all

“Did it hurt?” he asked softly.

“No, it doesn’t,” your voice broke.

“Shit,” he groaned.

“Okay, there has to be a way to stop it, a spell or something,” you started, pacing around the room.

“But, all of my grimoires were burned in the fire, and I need them,” you realized, as your heart stopped.

“No, they’re here, they’re in the boxes,” Derek motioned to the boxes he bought.

“God,” you let out a breath.

You ran to the box, grabbing a book as you quickly turned the pages, looking for a spell.

“(Y/N), just take a breath,” Derek started.

“I’m fine,” you stuttered.

You flipped through the pages quickly, looking for the right spell or something.

“(Y/N), calm down. I can hear your heart,” Derek tried to calm you down.

“Don’t tell me to calm down! If I don’t…I’m not losing my powers to become a werewolf!” you yelled.

“I know! Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he wrapped his arms around you, before your tears fell freely, holding back a sob as he held you tightly.

---

You and Derek sat on your floor, looking through all the grimoires that you had. You had more than you realized.

“What about this one? it looks like it could be it,” Derek handed you the book.

“That turns people into wolves,” you gave him a look. You gave him credit, Latin is hard to read.

“There’s a spell for that? Wait, why don’t you reverse that, and find the alpha?” Derek asked.

“You don’t just reverse spells. You do the smallest thing wrong and I could make him more powerful,” you sighed.

“That’s the last thing we need,” Derek sighed.

“Wait,” you paused, reading the sentence.

Supprimunt atramentum speciem tuam

“What is it? Did you find something?” Derek asked you.

“Sort of. It’s not a cure, it’ll just suppress the wolf in me until I can find a more permanent solution,” you sighed.

“How long will that be?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but not that long. I just need a few ingredients,” you said, looking at the potion.

“What do you need?”

“Wolfsbane, Vervain, pint of human blood,” you shuddered at the thought of human blood.

“Where are you gonna get that from?” 

“There’s a Stiles that lives 5 minutes away from here,” you shrugged.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied.

“I’m not talking about this, I’m talking about everything else,” he said.

“I’m okay,” you lied.

“You suck at lying, you know that?” Derek raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry. I don’t know. I just want to get done with this and go to bed,” you sighed.

“Yeah, but listen. Me and you have to stick together, okay? We’re the last of our families, we need to keep going, okay?” he stood next to you.

You nodded as you gave him a small hug.

“Come on, we gotta go now,” he pulled you up.

“Yeah, wait. I’m gonna take the cast off,” you started.

“Yeah? And what are you gonna tell people when they ask how you miraculously healed in two days?” Derek crossed his arms.

“Shit, you’re right. Let’s go,” you groaned as the two of you left your apartment.

---

You ran up the stairs of Scott’s house, going to his room.

You saw Stiles nervously pacing outside it.

“Stiles,” you started.

“(Y/N)? How are you walking?” he asked, looking shocked.

“It’s a long story, and I need your blood,” Derek stood behind you.

“What? Hell no,” he said.

“They’re no other fucking option and I’m almost out of time. Please, Stiles,” you begged.

He looked between you and Derek.

“Fine.” 

“Oh, thank you! Wait, is that Scott?” you asked, hearing some noises come from his room.

“Yeah, he's fighting the full moon,” he said.

You shut your eyes tightly, leaning against the wall.

“(Y/N)?” Derek put his hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine. I just need the blood, now. Derek, you have the vervain?” you asked.

He nodded as he handed you the flower.

“Okay, Stiles, deep breath,” before you could finish his sentence, he passed out, seeing the needle.

You poked it into his vein, taking some blood.

“There’s less than a minute,” you started.

“I know, come on, we have everything. Just take it,” Derek said.

You finished taking Stiles’ blood, mixing it with the crushed vervain and wolfsbane.

“Purga animam emundes spiritum meum lustrare,” you recited the spell as you fell to the ground, feeling the power of the moon.

“(Y/N)!” Derek exclaims, holding you.

“Purga animam emundes spiritum meum lustrare,” you repeated.

You grabbed the bowl, drinking it, as you held in your gags.

“Did it work? (Y/N)?” Derek asked.

You let out a shaky breath, as your eyes flickered from yellow to purple, then back to its normal color.

“I… I’m okay,” you nodded.

“I’m okay,” you repeated, laying on the ground.

“Stay here, I’m gonna go check on Scott,” he said.

You nodded as you slowly closed your eyes, taking deep breaths.

---

You stumbled to your apartment, exhausted and ready to pass out.

Your heart rate quickened as you saw your door opened.

You slowly entered, seeing Kate sitting on your couch.

“Kate,” you gasped.

Shit

[lacrossepapi]

It’s Too Much

Here’s 5.6k of empath!stiles, adopted!saac, abusive!sheriff, and sweet loving angst! 

Warnings for Gerard Argent and Parent Abuse.

Ao3: Link

It was easier on Stiles when he was a kid surrounded by other kids. Children are loud, wild little creatures, but they are also generally happy, excited, or at the very least usually content. Stiles tried to avoid physical contact with everyone except his calm but happy friend Scott for those reasons. It was hard enough to contain his own racing thoughts and emotions, but when bounced around the other children, all bursting at the seams with energy and undiluted emotions, it became almost impossible to control his thoughts, words, or actions. 

Some would think ADHD came with being an empath, but no. It was all just brain chemistry and Stiles’ horrible luck that gifted him with the ability to feel others emotions, but not the ability to sort and keep track of his own thoughts and emotions. Scott was a calm balm to that chaos in his mind, a happy anchor to ground himself when the excitement in the classroom grew so much Stiles could taste it despite not touching anyone. 

But things change, kids grow up, and learn new emotions. Some unfortunately learn dark emotions before everyone else. Isaac discovered fear at an age that everyone else around him only experienced spooked or startled. Nine year olds weren’t supposed to know that type of terror. Stiles had audibly gasped the day he’d smacked into Isaac on the playground, the visceral horror lingering in Isaac was a tidal wave. The only thing that kept Stiles from releasing the scream that had bubbled up in his throat was Scott’s joy, humor, excitement that had enveloped him as the other boy crashed into the two of them. He’d yelled that Stiles was now It, but Stiles only had eyes for the blonde boy now looking at them with a guarded expression and paranoia, wearines, suspicion, hope warring in his emotions.  

Scott and Stiles became Scott, Stiles, and Isaac after that. Isaac became a Stilinski a year later. Stiles soon had four buffers against the emotions of the world, Isaac giving him a soft type of content that he usually only felt on rainy days surrounded by his parents. The problem with relying on buffers was that one day they’d all eventually change so much that they no longer offered the haven they once had and Stiles would be left bereft in a chaotic world of other peoples’ emotions. 

The first to change was his mom. He started to feel emotions from her that didn’t make sense, but the most common one was confusion. His mom would suddenly stop in the middle of doing something and a burst of it would engulf the room so strongly he’d scrunch his face up in a mirror image of hers. Stiles was scared to tell his dad something was wrong, until Isaac had ran up from behind him and hugged him tightly trepidation, worry, fear fill Stiles’ senses instead of the warm  love that usually enveloped him when Isaac hugged him. He turned to ask the boy what was wrong, but a wave of confusion hit him as he locked eyes with his mother. She smiled and rubbed a hand down his arm, pleasant surprise this time filling him as she asked who the boy behind him was. She told Stiles he needed permission before bringing a new friend over, despite the fact that Isaac had been living with them for six months at that point. After that things had progressed too quickly. His mother was a less powerful empath than him, but at the height of her illness Stiles couldn’t be in the hospital wing she stayed in due to the emotions she couldn’t control, only project at full volume. Nurses quit or requested a different patient every few weeks, not understanding why they were so upset all the time, but knowing it had something to do with the screaming woman in 203. 

It was on one of those days that his mother’s unending terror had been too much, that Stiles had stumbled into a room and immediately screamed a feral, angry thing as pain, hatred, loss, wrath slammed into him without warning. Isaac and Scott hadn’t been far behind him as he ran away from his mother’s screams and pain, but at the sound of his anguished scream they’d burst through the door and did the only thing they knew would calm their friend. They hugged him with every ounce of strength they shared in their small bodies, unaware that the love, fondness, sympathy surrounding him was what actually calmed him down. It also helped that the wall of emotion had receded at the sound of his scream, and even muted itself. Curiosity, hope, and wariness flowed between the dark emotions as Stiles took in the bleak room around him. A man was laying on the hospital bed in the corner of the room, his body eerily still for the emotions Stiles could still feel coming off him. He wanted to ask if the man was okay, but that was a stupid question. Better questions flooded his mind, but his friends were feeling more and more worry by the minute in that dark, barren room. He blanketed the room in calm and peace, the boys on either side of him relaxed instantly, and the emotions filling the room eased instead of the muted feeling they had been after his scream. He asked Scott and Isaac to get him an apple juice, the boys reluctant to leave Stiles in a room alone with a comatose stranger, but ultimately giving in to his puppy eyes. 

Stiles approached the man in the bed, noting the burn scars traveling up his neck and face. 

“Something horrible happened to you. I’m sorry for the pain you have felt. The screams that fill this wing are my mom’s. She doesn’t remember me anymore and it hurts, it hurts like you hurt. I’m not ready to lose my momma, but neither is daddy. I’ve got to look out for Scott and Isaac so I can’t let them see me cry. I’m gonna cry now. I’m sorry.” Stiles apologized.

He truly was deeply sorry in his very being that anyone had to go through something that made them feel the way this man did. He was sorry that the man didn’t ask for three grieving boys to stumble into his room and couldn’t even tell them to leave. He was sorry that the man had to hear his mother’s screams. He was sorry that the man had to feel his mother’s fear when she had an episode and couldn’t stop herself from projecting. But mostly he was sorry all he could do for the man was fill the room with peace and cry at his bedside. He let himself cry for just a moment before grabbing the man’s hand and covering him head to toe in calm, content, peace. He hoped it lingered on the man for as long as possible. Scott and Isaac returned with his apple juice and more hugs as they left the room with the comatose man. 

In the wake of his mother’s death Stiles also lost his father. Not in the literal sense, but something was broken inside the man. He didn’t see the boys anymore. Didn’t greet them with smiles and hugs like he once had. Didn’t smile or hug at all. Isaac backed away, fear rising in him each day the newly appointed sheriff got closer and closer to the man he’d once saved Isaac from. His grip harshed on the back of Stiles’ neck, no longer the warm comfort it’d once been. Now a means to bodily move his son or reprimand him. It was in those moments that Stiles was struck still and silent by the overwhelming grief, pain, loss, hopelessness, devastation that was consuming his father. His father’s pain was not an excuse to treat his sons like the were ghosts in his home, one of whom looked too much like the woman he loved to stomach even looking at. He hurt Stiles sometimes on accident, but he didn’t even acknowledge Isaac’s presence in their home. The boys formed a bond in those months that would never break. 

Stiles spent his days sneaking out of the house while Isaac and Scott played video games and Melissa slept. He would sneak down to the police station and project love, hope, forgiveness, peace in alternating patterns and at varying degrees. In the end he wasn’t sure if his projecting helped his father or if the breaking point had finally changed things. The breaking point had been Isaac flinching away from Stiles’ father when the man had tried to ruffle his curls like the past few months he hadn’t been leaving bruises on his other son’s neck. Isaac had flinched, a whimper escaping him and fear bursting out of him so strong Stiles had pushed his father away from his brother and snarled at him. Melissa had come running down the stairs, sleep mussed hair and bleary eyed, Scott peeking out from behind her legs. She’d shouted his father’s name just as the man had wrenched Stiles away from Isaac by the neck. She gathered the three boys behind her and released a torrent of angry, scornful words that had hit his father like a train. Stiles had focused on his father’s emotions, reading them as they came to him in a flurry: anger, indignation, shock, pain, grief, fear, self-loathing, regret, remorse, devastation, guilt. 

“I know you’re in pain. I know you miss momma. I miss her too, but I don’t like you right now dad. And you scare Isaac, and that makes me mad. You’re not allowed to scare him anymore, okay?” Stiles stared at his father, the secret of how adeptly Stiles actually did know his father’s pain bare and raw between them. 

“And you can’t be mean to Stiles anymore!” Isaac demanded, though it came out much weaker than he had probably intended. 

“Yeah! No more hurting him!” Scott yelled, his twelve year old fists clenched by his sides. 

Stiles’ father dropped to his knees and sobbed. The sound earth shattering in Stiles’ ears when accompanied by the tidal wave of sorrow, grief, guilt, regret. 

“I’m going to keep the boys at my house until you get sober and get counseling.” Melissa said, her resolve strong in the face of his tears. 

While they stayed with the McCalls Stiles still sneaked out to project positive feelings to his father. 

The boys moved back in with their father after his three month stint in rehab with a grief counselor. Isaac was more wary than Stiles to return, but Stiles could feel the cleanse his father’s emotional state went through. They had bunk beds, but Isaac slept with Stiles most nights when they first returned. Stiles would wake up every time the other boy had a nightmare and he would project safe emotions to his brother until he settled. He would check in on his father’s emotions through the night too. Melissa called every night before bed for the first month to make sure the boys were truly settled back home and safe. Stiles was happy to be home and happy to see his father healing and healthy again, he would never be the safe haven he’d once been. Stiles still thought that one day, maybe even one day soon, they’d be a family again. 

Three years later, Stiles had his family whole again, but lost his last two buffers, Scott and Isaac. Together. All at once Stiles was alone in the ocean of emotions around him. The problem with both of your adopted brothers being werewolves when you’re an empath is that they get more tactile when you can no longer handle the emotions whirling through their minds at any given time. Supernatural creatures were louder than humans. Stiles had grown stronger over the years, but there was nothing he could do to stop the events of their sophomore year. Well perhaps he could’ve stopped the events if he hadn’t been the one to drag his sweet loyal brothers out of their beds in the middle of the night to go find the source of the overwhelming emotions coming from the preserve. They’d been heading towards the area Stiles had felt the spike of sorrow so sharp it’d brought tears to his eyes when he’d picked up on more emotions. 

Pain, hatred, loss, wrath, grief was approaching fast. Too fast to even warn his brothers to run before a massive angry alpha werewolf had tackled Scott, biting his side immediately. Stiles vomited as Scott’s pain and fear throbbed through him at the same time Isaac’s horror slammed into him from behind, all mixed with the creatures emotions. It was too much. He couldn’t shut out Isaac and Scott’s emotions like he could strangers’ emotions, they were as apart of him as his own. He couldn’t fight against the strength of the alpha’s emotions either. 

Stiles tried to breathe, tried to shake off everyone else’s emotions so he could focus. But the alpha reared back and snatched Isaac off the ground, its teeth sinking into his ribs. Isaac screamed. Scott cried out, too weak to scream. The alpha howled. And Stiles gathered every ounce of terror filling his brothers and himself and ROARED. 

The alpha dropped Isaac, his body bounced once on the ground before laying too still for Stiles’ heart, and passed out. Stiles took a moment to breathe and gather his strength again. He blanketed his brothers in safe, love, calm, peace before calling his father. 

“Stiles? Why are you calling me? We’re both home?” His father listened to his panicked, exhausted breaths for a moment before finishing, “Unless we’re not. Okay. Where are you? Why aren’t Isaac and Scott there to calm you? I’m putting on pants and coming to you kiddo, but I need you to find a way to tell me what happened and where I’m going.” 

“Alpha. Bit. Boys. Preserve. Hale House close?” Stiles was hyperventilating, the adrenaline morphing into panic as he realized the ramifications of the night. 

Stiles heard his father stop shuffling and gasp and was glad he couldn’t feel his father’s emotions from this far unless he tuned into them on purpose. 

“Okay. Okay kiddo. We’ll deal with it. I’m coming. I need you to put pressure on the wounds and tell me if you see any black goo seeping out of them. You don’t have to speak other than that so try to focus on your breathing and on stopping the bleeding.” His father was much better in a crisis than he ever would be. 

Stiles forced his wooden legs to carry him to his brothers. Isaac had rolled relatively close to Scott, which made checking them both over much easier. He dropped to his knees between their limp bodies and, putting his father on speaker first, shined his phone’s flashlight onto Isaac’s unconscious body. 

“Oh god dad. His body bounced. It fucking bounced off the ground like a ball. What if he’s bleeding internally? How do I fix that? How do I save him?” He shined the light onto Scott and almost vomited again. 

He whimpered his oldest and closest friend’s name as he took in the sight of his torn side. 

“It bit them so violently dad. There’s more wound area than I have hand area. I can’t do anything. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t protect them. I can’t save them. Daddy please hurry. I can’t do this alone and I can’t lose them. I can’t.” Stiles muted his end of the phone and let out a sob so violent his entire body shook. 

He had long ago stopped letting anyone see him cry for fear that he’d project it and make someone else sad. He couldn’t stop the torrent of tears spilling out of him. He threw his head back and screamed through his grief and sorrow. He’d always felt better after being able to release the emotions inside him that way, even if it was a rather violent coping mechanism. 

He could hear his father saying his name and asking him to turn off the mute, and mechanically did so, the last of his scream still echoing around them. Then he heard a sound, a whimper he hadn’t expected to hear. His head whipped to the limp bodies of his brothers but neither stirred, and it was then that Stiles remembered he had turned his back on an unconscious alpha werewolf. The same alpha that had just violently attacked his family unprovoked. He stood as he spun around to face the creature, but there was nothing in the spot it had collapsed in. The alpha got away. 

-

High school was hell after that night. His brothers didn’t understand why he flinched when nothing was happening, why he would dodge their touch when he used to run headlong into it, why he no longer wanted to share a room with Isaac. Stiles could’ve told them about being an empath, but things were so complicated and he didn’t want them looking guilty every time they had a strong emotion. It wasn’t their fault supernatural creatures were loud, and it wasn’t their fault Kate Argent lured Laura Hale into the preserve that night and killed her. Peter Hale had been comatose until the moment the alpha spark slammed into him full force. He followed the scent of blood to the sight of his nieces’ murder and attacked the first foreign thing he came across. It was Peter’s grief Stiles had felt so sharply he’d bolted out of bed and raced to Scott’s house, Isaac in tow, so that they could go hiking through the woods to find the source. 

Scott and Isaac were the least to blame for their new found werewolf status, and the only thing Stiles felt as they had to deal with Peter Hale’s rampage and Derek Hale trying to force them under his rule was guilt. 

Peter had asked him if he wanted the bite that night in the garage, but Stiles had been too busy being relaxed by his muted emotions to be properly scared of his threats. Stiles could feel the fondness, intrigue, humor rolling off the man when they interacted, but every time he saw anger flash in those sapphire eyes he didn’t feel it as strongly as he suspected. Something about Peter seemed familiar and despite everything Stiles found himself fond of the man as well. Then he tried to attack Scott, Isaac, and Allison and Stiles had to stop him. No matter how much Stiles found the man curious and charismatic he had to pay for what he did to Scott and Isaac, and Stiles would not let him lay a single claw on an innocent again. He would overwhelm the man with whatever emotion it would take to stop him. As Jackson threw the molotov cocktail Stiles felt a blast of terror so strong he stumbled, but knew it had come from the man that had already burned once. Stiles granted him the only mercy he could in that moment. Numb. Sleep. Peace. Each emotion as strong as he could project them, and Peter’s eyes snapped to his just before the cocktail exploded and Peter’s eyes closed as he passed out. Peter would not live through this sleep, but he would not have to be aware of burning alive again. 

After Peter’s death, Derek became alpha and bit Erica Reyes and Vernon Boyd. Gerard Argent became principal and made sure he threatened the fledgeling pack at every opportunity. Jackson somehow became a kanima just from Derek’s nail stuck in his neck, which: ew. The whole time Scott and Isaac were caught up in running and fighting, Stiles was distancing himself so that he could learn to mute their emotions. He could mute human emotions unless they were touching him, but supernatural emotions were more projected and harder to mute. 

Stiles found himself going on runs through the preserve more than was probably safe, but it was the only place in Beacon Hills that there was rarely people. And he’d sense a supernatural creature before it got close enough to attack, he’d grown in power since the night Peter had bitten his brothers. He had never thought he’d have to use his empathy as a weapon, but here he was with a blunt sword he had to sharpen as fast and as safely as possible. Out in the preserve he could practise putting animals to sleep or easing their fear of him enough to pet them without worrying about anyone seeing. 

He’d went for a run after Scott and Isaac’s lacrosse game, which was probably a bad idea since Jackson may or may not have died that night. There’d been so much fear and worry in the stands that Stiles had to escape to the peace of the preserve. Which is how he found himself surrounded by fifteen grown men armed to the teeth. 

“Woah! What do you need all those for? Mr.Jones killed the mountain lion a while back now, so there’s nothing out here nearly dangerous enough for you to need all that for!” 

They only stepped closer, silent in their menacing, and Stiles could feel the violence in their emotions. 

“Right? Cause if you guys think there is something dangerous out here I need to get the hell out of here!” Stiles was trying to keep his panic at bay. 

They were here for him, but none of them had the right combination of emotions to make him feel like they were going to kill him here. They were going to take him. Probably to Gerard. 

Why would Gerard want him? He was just a human as far as anyone knew. It didn’t matter at that moment, what did matter was soothing the itch for violence in these men. 

Stiles started projecting little tendrils of friendly at each man as they closed in on him. He was knocked unconscious, not by a pistol whip to the top of his head, but a punch to his temple. The last thing he thought was ‘At least my empathy softened the blow somewhat.’

Stiles didn’t stay unconscious long, the amount of hands on him as they carried him into a house and down the stairs into a basement torture chamber was enough to jolt him awake the moment they lifted him. They threw him down in a way that sent his body skidding across the harsh concrete ground and landing under two sets of bare feet. Stiles groaned as he felt not only his pain, but also the two above him’s pain and fear. 

He lifted his gaze away from the men assembled in front of him and to the teenagers hanging from the ceiling above him. Erica cried out when she saw him, Boyd thrashed against his restraints in an attempt to free himself. Stiles had to mute their emotions as best he could, though it was incredibly hard when those emotions were about him. Their fear was for him. He had felt the resignation on them when he’d been thrown at them. They were ready to die, but wanted to fight for Stiles to live. Stiles hadn’t even truly considered them friends until that revelation. He’d be damned if they were going to die on his watch. 

Gerard finally made his appearance, spouting racist bullshit and throwing surprisingly strong punches. Stiles could take it, would take it. He had to if he was going to get the ‘wolves behind him out of here. There was too many people and he didn’t even know where they were, but Stiles would figure it out. As Gerard picked him up by the collar of his track jersey and punched him back down onto the ground Stiles sent tendrils of wariness into the men behind Gerard. As the geriatric bastard stomped on Stiles’ ribs, Stiles sent a wave of guilt into the men. He noticed one slip out the back while Gerard was distracted by Stiles hacking up blood. 

Moments later Chris Argent came striding in and Stiles felt guilt, regret, worry as he looked at the brutalized teenagers. Good. Stiles couldn’t hear what son said to father, but Gerard spit on Stiles and followed his son upstairs. Stiles had leaned so heavily into Erica and Boyd’s emotions so as to avoid feeling even an ounce of Gerard’s that he gasped when he could pull his senses off of them. Stiles sent tired at the men watching them wearily and all but one left. Stiles simply projected sleep at the three other people in the basement and waited for them to sag. Once he knew everyone in his vicinity was sleeping he cast his awareness through the house, relieved to feel nothing. They’d trusted one man to watch a beat up human and two restrained werewolves, but they didn’t know who Stiles was. 

Getting Erica and Boyd down and into the car was the most physically painful hour of his life. When they woke Stiles told them the hunter left to guard them told him to take the other two and get out before he changed his mind. It was a lie, but they didn’t need to know that. What they needed at that moment was somewhere safe and somewhere comforting. Stiles could do that for them. He blanketed the car in safe, calm, peace, contentment, love and soon he could hear Erica singing along to the radio quietly from the back seat. Sometimes he really wished he could project onto himself. 

After that Stiles had more people’s touch to dodge. Erica and Boyd claimed Stiles with the brand of fierce loyalty he’d claimed them. With every dodge Stiles sent love back to make sure they didn’t feel rejected, his four puppies always smiled back at him like it was a game. Perhaps it was a game, one that Stiles wouldn’t handle losing very well. 

A plan was hatched to dispose of Gerard Argent, Stiles knew what Scott was like when he was planning something. After a little bit of snooping Stiles decided he needed to step in and help Scott with Not Doing That. 

“But I think it’s clever.” Scott defended, his brows furrowed. 

“It is clever. I’m honestly shocked you thought of something this devious, I’m usually the devious one.” Stiles laughed, his hand casually coming up to rest on Scott’s arm despite the overwhelming  flow of his emotions. 

Sometimes he really missed touching and being touched. Scott was his first buffer against the outside world, maybe Stiles could just take an aspirin after they touched and it’d be okay. Even if he did want to smile like an idiot and scrunch up his face in confusion, offended and cry from heartbreak and fight something. 

Werewolves were a tsunami of emotions and Stiles only had a raft made of touch starvation and devotion. 

Scott had to repeat his question twice before Stiles could focus on it, “So why cant I do it?” 

“Well buddy the thing is you don’t know a lot about werewolf culture yet, right?” 

Scott nodded. 

“And you know I’ve been researching the hell out of it at lightning speed? Well something I learned was that an alpha’s bite is precious and a gift. You and Isaac are different because Peter was drowning in lost pack bonds and need new ones immediately. But think about Erica and Boyd.” 

“Derek scouted them.” 

“Okay meat head. I would’ve said looked for them, but sure.” 

“Shut up, man. I’m telling you I understand.” 

“Fuck yeah! Okay so now that we’re on the same page of ‘Operation: Force Derek to Bite Gerard to Kill Him’ being not good, let’s brainstorm what to do next.” Stiles fist bumped Scott and they fell back onto his bed together. 

Isaac joined them soon after offering his own insights. Stiles called Erica and Boyd when the three of them came to another impasse about what to do. 

Soon Stiles’ bedroom was full of teenage werewolves, and he was starting to freak out. He opened the window for fresh air, but Derek launched himself onto his roof at the exact moment it opened. 

“Sweet Baby Yoda, you scared the hell out of me!” Stiles gasped, clutching his chest while Erica snickered. 

Derek frowned at him, “Why are you having a pack meeting without me?”

“We aren’t voting you off the island, alpha mine!” Erica chirped. 

“Yet.” Boyd followed gravely. 

“Well that’s reassuring.” Derek deadpanned back as he approached his four betas. He scent marked each of them before reaching out and placing his hand on Stiles’ head. 

Grief, self-loathing, guilt, worry, fear, pain 

It slammed threw him so hard Stiles could only stumble backwards as tears welled up in his eyes. Derek’s emotions were always muted unless they were strong, but this was the first time they’d touched when Stiles was too sensitive by everyone else to dilute what he took in. 

He hit the ground and dropped his head, Derek following suit to check on him.

“Stiles? What just-” 

“Stiles darling, come now. Up you get.” He didn’t know where Peter came from or how he was able to lift him by his shoulders without sending a single emotion to Stiles, but Stiles didn’t care. 

He let Peter guide him out of the room. He hadn’t felt anything from Peter except content, humor, interest, curiosity since the man had returned to the world of the living, but now he truly felt nothing from the man. He tried to slump back into Peter’s chest, but the man stopped him. 

“Not yet, pet. I haven’t perfected the full body charms yet.” 

Stiles hummed an inquisitive sound as Peter sat him on the couch. 

Peter sat beside him, close but not touching more than the hand on his leg. 

“It took me longer than I would’ve liked, but yes I did indeed say charm. I’m going to make full body mute charms and you’re going to gift them to the pack and your father, so that they will actually wear them. You don’t have to tell them what you are, love, but if you keep up like this you’re going to burn yourself out. I am not quite ready to say goodbye to the little boy that screamed when I could not.” Peter caressed Stiles’ cheek as he spoke, his thumb wiping away dried tears. 

“You know? How? They make mute charms? Will you show me how to make them?” Stiles’ mind was starting to whirl with the possibilities, “If there are mute charms, could I make singular emotion charms? So does that mean you only have a hand mute charm on? Is it the ring? That’s new right? I don’t want to tell them what I am. They’ll feel guilty for every emotion they have if they know it impacts me. Can the charm be any material or does it have to be silver? That is silver right? I wouldn’t burn myself out. I totally got this. But the charms are so cool!” Stiles took a big breath as his rapid fire inquires petered out. 

He smiled sheepishly at Peter’s calm, but amused expression. 

“Sorry they got excited and I was already excited, so a feedback loop kicked up. Add in the ADHD and it’s rough. You said I screamed when you couldn’t? When?” 

Peter brought his hand around and placed it on the back of Stiles’ neck, a warm comforting weight, before answering, “We’ll unpack all your charm questions later, okay? As for how I know and when you were able to express my emotions when I couldn’t, the answers are the same but slightly different.”

Stiles nodded, leaning back into Peter’s palm.

“You stumbled into my hospital room and screamed the minute the door was shut, I didn’t understand why this eleven year old was in my room or why his scream sounded like he felt every single thing I was feeling. I wasn’t very aware at that point, but the visceral emotion in that scream sounded like my own. And then you filled my room with such nice feelings I thought for a long time it was a dream.”

Stiles’ eyes are wet again as the memory of that day finally floods back in. 

“And then I felt Laura die and the spark pass to me. I was blind in my fury and grief. I found her body and howled with every ounce of grief within my tattered soul. I was searching the area to figure out who did it when you three stumbled into my path. I felt your sorrow for your brothers as if it were my own and I ran.”

Stiles remembers the whimper and squeezes the hand on his thigh with his own. 

“And then, my sweet sweet boy, I died. I was burned alive for the second time, but you saved me the trauma of experiencing it. I don’t know how I knew it was you who granted me the numbness that took over my body, but when I looked at you trying not to show anyone the emotion I saw in your eyes, I knew. I knew you were the little boy. I knew that once again you were here to save me from pain.” 

Stiles wiped his watery eyes viciously, mad at himself for tearing up in front of Peter. 

“I vowed that if I could make it back I’d repay you. And these charms are how I plan to do that, pet.” Peter moved Stiles hand away from his eyes before slowly moving in and kissing each sensitive eyelid. 

“Where do we go from here, Peter?” Stiles whispered, his throat too full of emotion, for once it was his own. 

“Wherever we want, sweetheart.”

[mirrorthoughts]

Not Afraid #8 - Steter - AO3

(On AO3)

(Teenwolf, Steter, Peter Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, The Pack (Teen Wolf), Not Beta Read, Not edited, Just a little something I'm writing for a friend as part of an advents calendar, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence)

Summary: I read somewhere on tumblr about Stiles not being afraid of the Alpha and... Well this is my take on it? Most of my knowledge of this fandom is from fanfiction and watching season one once, so... don't expect canon accuracy 😂 I'm writing these chapters kinda NaNo style with a lower word count, so... as the tags say: Not beta read, not edited, not even really read twice. Will probably be edited at a later date. Maybe x"D Tags, warnings and rating might change depending on how long this piece is going to get.

Chapter 8 of 11

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11)

Peter listened to the silent noises from the kitchen. The domesticity of them burned inside him, clashing with his memories and coma dreams. Seeing his nephew sitting in an arm chair not far from him didn’t help him to feel any better either, other than the smells in Stiles’ home. Because of course there was Stiles’ scent everywhere as well as another one that probably belonged to the Sheriff. It was Stiles’ scent that made him relax. Stiles’ scent was the first thing he really remembered after the fire other than red eyes and the taste of blood in his mouth. He didn’t know if it was Laura’s blood he remembered or that of the boy he’d bitten not that long after and he wasn’t really sure if he wanted to know. Probably not. He looked at Derek who at least had stopped growling at him for the moment. He had no illusions that Derek had stopped out of anything but convenience for himself since his nephew very much still glared at him, not letting him out of his sight. He sighed and closed his eyes, automatically tuning back into the sounds from the kitchen. Peter must have been more exhausted than he’d thought because the next thing he knew was, that the smell of coffee and Stiles startled him awake. He rubbed his hand over his face, grimacing slightly into his palm when he still felt his scars. They hopefully wouldn’t be there much longer but for now he still needed them. Never mind how much they hurt or reminded him of what had happened. It wasn’t as if he would ever forget the smell of fire and the screaming. “Alright! Now that all of us have coffee… let’s talk.” He looked up just when he felt the couch cushions next to him move as Stiles had decided to sit down next to him. The boy grinned crookedly at him when their eyes met before his face vanished behind a cup. Peter could smell that smiles wasn’t as unaffected by him as he tried to seem but that was a thought that was shoved aside for the moment. Nothing he wanted to follow up on right now, really. Maybe never. He had more important things to do, people to kill, a pack to build, these kind of matters. Though as it seemed he first had to deal with his nephew whose almost subvocal growl reached his ears again. “Why did you kill Laura?!” “And here we are again.” Stiles murmured in his cup and Peter couldn’t help but snort as he slowly reached for his own cup of coffee. He had to be careful since his human body still wasn’t as strong as he wanted it to be. Neither was the more human part of his mind who still tried to cope with everything that had happened, with the force of the alpha powers burning in his veins and the fact that he felt kind of disconnected to part of himself since his wolf had broken out of the coma where the human hadn’t been able to. It felt way easier to listen to his wolfish side, to just let himself trust his instincts. But he knew he wouldn’t get far this time without explaining himself at least a little bit. He wouldn’t hurt Stiles if the boy decided to step into his way - and that also was something he needed to take a closer look at once he was alone again - and he didn’t want to injure his nephew. His last living family. He took a slow sip of his coffee, savoring the bitter taste on his tongue, and sighed. “I don’t know. I… don’t remember killing her.” “Bullshit!” The sound of the arm chair getting shoved back was the only warning he got before Derek almost jumped into his face only stopping inches before him. Peter hadn’t moved at all. He was glad it would probably look like intent and superiority to the others but in truth he just was too exhausted to care. He just wanted to enjoy the coffee in his hands! “I know you don’t work well with answers you don’t like, dear nephew, but I can’t tell you anything else. I was comatose, as you very well know. After all Laura and you left me here to rot. Helpless, without my alpha to help me heal, like a sitting duck just waiting for a hunter to get bored and finally kill me.” He couldn’t help the deep satisfaction he felt when Derek flinched back, turning his head to avoid Peter’s eyes. “I only

remember gaining consciousness in my hospital room probably the day after she died. Suddenly alpha, no pack bonds, alone.” Peter took another sip of his coffee, watching as Derek sunk back into his chair, only now sending a short glance over to Stiles who was watching him from the side. Maybe, if he played his cards right, he would be able to gain two pack members this night. Guilt-tripping Derek into it would probably be the easier one of both. But Stiles… well, Stiles seemed to be a loyal and protective person. He might even understand. And wasn’t that thought exhilarating.

[p4lparker]

Lost

We both remained still, as if that would stop the embarrassment from setting in. Stiles was still pressed against my back, hell he was still inside me. I had never been so mortified in my entire life; I'd come close a couple of times, when I fell off the stage and broke my arm during the play in 6th grade, the time I ran into the front entrance doors at school last week and finally the first time I experienced my monthly friend- I was with Scott and Stiles at the time. But none of that even compared to having the Sheriff walk in on you doing the do… with his son. I truly hoped that, that didn't actually just happen and that we were experiencing some weird 'What if' scenario. I wished the earth would just swallow me whole- Stiles and his Jeep too. We were gonna get 'the talk' from Stiles' dad. The friggen Sheriff was gonna tell me to make sure his kid wraps it before he taps it. I changed my mind. That would be the most embarrassing moment of my life to date.

 I wriggled, and sighed waiting for Stiles to pull himself together and pull out. He got the message, grasping my hips and drawing his own back and away from- he was released from me with a mildly disgusting sound. I shimmied my tights and undies back up my legs, trying to right my rumpled and disturbed outfit- when I was fully dressed I turned to look at the man who'd just ravaged me.. He was too trying to redress himself, though he looked like he was going to be sick. I reached a hand out to him, but he flinched away slightly, before letting me rest my fingers gently on his lightly stubbled cheek.

He nuzzled into my touch before jerking back and moving to get into his Jeep. I followed suit, getting in and buckling up. The engine started and, the atmosphere inside was tense and almost awkward. The cab was silent, not even the load groaning of the old, abused engine was enough to distract from the tense silence. I looked over at Stiles, his face was still pale- he looked like he was going to pass out.. or die one of the two. I guess he felt worse than I did, I mean it was his dad catching him humping me at the side of the road. In the process of analysing Stiles, he turned to face me; his usually happy mocha coloured eyes looked sad. I felt him reach out and grasp my hand- he held it softly in his own, gently squeezing it every now and then. Though the cab still remained silent. He was comforting me, letting me know everything would work out.

 Even though Stiles took the long route home, we arrived at the Stilinski residence all too soon. The Sheriff's cruiser was already sat in the driveway, and the lights were on in the front room. He was there. He was waiting for us.. Waiting for the most uncomfortable conversation in the history if uncomfortable conversations to take place. Stiles heaved a heavy sigh and slowly let the air leave his lungs as he unbuckled his seat belt and gestured to the front door- with an awkward sort of nod, in its general direction. I followed his motions, unbuckling and jumping out of the cab as slowly as humanly possible. I wanted to prolong the time before the end of my sanity as much as I could. We were soon situated on the well-worn couch, Sheriff Stilinski sat in his armchair. He was leant forwards, his elbows resting on his knees; hands clasped in front of his mouth and eyebrows furrowed. I shifted my eyes to look at Stiles, he was sat on the couch next to me. He was sat in a similar way to his father, though he was running his fingers through his short hair- which was steadily becoming longer. I on the other hand, sat scrunched up, I was trying to hide from the embarrassment. I watched as the Sheriff looked up at Stiles and I- he looked almost as pale as us, and his hazel eyes looked haunted. He removed his hands from his mouth, rubbing them over his face as if trying to rub away the memories or to fend off an on-coming headache.

 "How long has this been happening? I think that's a starting point and we'll move on from there..." Sheriff asked, he sounded drained, and the worst was still to come.

 "Its recent.. as in very recent.. as in so recent we don't really know what's happening.. and just gahhh..." Stiles muttered, shifting awkwardly. I watched from the corner of my eye as he turned to face me. "I mean.. is there something happening? or like.. hnngg.." Stiles was rambling, it was uncomfortable to witness. But it was true, all he said was true, it was new and we didn't even know if there was actually anything happening between us. Which was suddenly making this whole exchange with his dad all the more painful and scarring for all involved. I turned my head fully to look directly at him, I looked directly into his eyes- searching him for answers. I didn't really know how I felt about the whole situation. I mean, I liked Stiles- I was friends with him. And I really liked having sex with him. But was there more to it? Were there other feelings there? I wasn't sure. And from the lost look in his eyes, neither was he. I turned to face his dad.

 "In all honesty, we aren't sure. We don't really know what's happening between us. But when we do figure it out, we'll let you know?" I said it all as a question, before looking to Stiles for confirmation. He nodded, which made me release a breath of wasn't even sure I was holding. Turning to face the Sheriff again and he just looked bemused, as if mine and Stiles' explanation was stated in Klingon or something.

 "Right, well that's by not all that insightful.. but I guess it'll do for now. Next question, you protected yourselves right? Cause pregnancy isn't the only thing that can happen... I mean there are other issues here, not saying that either of you have other issues.. but you need to be safe about this type of stuff.. A kid isn't for Christmas- its for life.." Stiles' dad said, and he looked even more humiliated to be saying things like that. I think I could even see his cheeks burn a light red at the end of his little rant. I could feel the laughter bubbling up inside, this was awkward enough- I did not need to be bursting into a fit of mortified giggles. I felt Stiles grab my hand and squeeze hard, letting me know not to bust up.

 "Look dad, we get it. We have been safe, and if it happens again or anymore we will continue to use protection. But the kid comment.. this is a safe sex conversation.. not an adopt a dog commercial. It was just painful. Now Y/N and I are gomna work on some homework and stuff.. Later Dad..." Stiles said shaking his head. The Sheriff nodded his head, Stiles grabbed my hand and began to lead me to the stairs- we were half way up them before we were stopped by his Dad calling after us.

"And leave the door open.." The Sheriff's voice seemed to carry itself behind us- like a creepy stalker. I cringed, feeling almost like he was saying it directly into my ear, that phrase had an effect on Stiles also- his whole body tensed, from his shoulders down to his feet. This moment seemed to drag on, almost for a life-time, before Stiles jerkily gripped my hand tighter and dragged me more quickly up the stairs.

 To say the next few hours were tense and incredibly awkward was the understatement of the century. Stiles and I barely made eye contact, let alone physical. It was painful, as soon as I stepped foot in his room, I was flooded with memories of what had transpired here only hours ago. I felt the familiar tingle and heat settle in the pit of my stomach, that thrill running through my body. And I was mortified, here we were in Stiles' room, studying and there I am practically moaning at memories! I tried to focus on the paragraph of information in front of me- but I just couldn’t reign in my imagination or my thoughts. Which kept drifting back to the way Stiles’ fingers had grazed over my skin, had gripped with an almost bruising strength. The way his lips had marked me as his own- blossoming purple splotches on my chest and stomach. I wriggled around on Stiles’ bed, trying to get rid of the lust that was rushing through my body- hoping that if I moved or changed the way I was sitting, it would stop me having those thoughts or memories trickling through my brain.

I crossed one leg over the other, so my thighs were pressed together in an attempt to create some much needed friction. Though my efforts were in vain, nothing would ease this ache. I looked around in frustration, the only way to help this situation was to help myself. I looked to Stiles, he was unfazed- it was almost as if this wasn’t affecting him at all. I shuffled along the bed, getting closer to him- I was trying to be subtle about things. Once I was sidled up to him, I could feel the heat his body was throwing off seep through the layers of clothes I had on covering my quaking body, excitement was running down my body trickling all the way to my trembling fingers.  I watched as Stiles, forced his eyes to stay on the page he was focused on- I allowed one hand to spider walk up his arm. Following the line of his body, my fingers reached his shoulder. I slide my body closer to his own, my head resting on his shoulder closer to his neck; that soft creamy coloured skin, that was practically begging me to colour it. Stiles turned his face to look at me, brows furrowed in concentration and confusion, his soft and full lips pouted and looking as kissable as always.

“What uhh, what are you doing?” He asked, his voice deeper from not being used for a time- it’s baritone sending a shiver down my spine and adding to the heat boiling over inside my belly. I just smiled in response, moving my beaming lips closer to the pale column of his throat. I watched his Adams apple bob as he swallowed. Biting my lip to restrain the giggle that was bubbling, I contained myself before puckering against the taunting skin before me. Gently I kissed my way up the length of his neck, I could feel Stiles shift beside me. I could tell he was beginning to feel the effects of my lips- I could feel the effects I was having on his body. He became tense; shoulders straightening and muscles taut, neck bending more to the side to allow me more access to that delectable creamy flesh, his breathing quickened, his bottom lip was drawn between his teeth and being bitten down on harshly, his mocha eyes were closed tightly. I sat, face nuzzled into the crook of his neck- lips attacking him, I let my hand wander down his body. I could feel his stomach muscles pulling in and dancing as my fingers tickled the skin carefully, before continuing their journey down to his lap. I rubbed my fingers gently over zipper, feeling his cock twitch in anticipation. Applying a little more pressure, I rubbed more fully on the bulge that was beginning to form. Scraping my teeth against his skin before sucking it into my mouth. I wanted to mark him as mine, for the world to see.

His answering groan was quiet, but I still heard it. Biting and sucking harder. Leaving my signature on his skin. My fingers were itching to relieve his zipper, to pull it down it’s track and release him- so I could see him and feel him, use my mouth or my hands for my own sick pleasure and his. But just as my fingers danced over to the top of his zipper- preparing to pull in down, I heard foot steps thudding up the stairs. I hastily pulled my hands and lips away from Stiles’ waiting body, shoving myself away from him and towards the head of his bed- picking up the book I’d left there I continued to ‘study’ the pages in front of me. I shifted my eyes to watch Stiles, he was shaking his head as if trying to rid the cobwebs or shake the lust from his system. I gazed at his eyes; they seemed darker almost black- like his dilated pupils.  I bit my lip as I held in the smirk that was begging to claim my features. I managed to get my mouth under control just in time, Stiles’ dad poked his head around the open.

“Hey. I uh, I just got called into work.. I don’t wanna be that Dad- but from what I saw today I think I have to be. So uhh, Y/N- I uh think it’s time you should go. Maybe you could study more at home or something, and you’re welcome to come around whenever I’m around and stuff. But for a couple of days I want you guys to cool it..” Sherriff stated, I could tell he felt awful for this- but I could also see his point. I mean, we were lucky in a way that it was him that caught us this afternoon. If it had been any other police office, they’d have surely written us up or even dragged us to the station. And that would have been even more mortifying than what had already happened. I just smiled tightly and nodded- beginning to pack up all of my stuff and preparing to leave.

“Dad, c’mon. Don’t you think that’s a little much? I mean with the door open and then asking Y/N to leave.. Is it really necessary?” Stiles began to protest, his voice tight. From being annoyed at my dismissal and the fact that he was sporting an impressive tent in his jeans. I grabbed his hand to try and stop the possible conflict that was brewing before me. I could see both Stillinski men were boiling with anger, that was yearning to be let loose. At the touch of my hand, Stiles calmed down slightly. Bowing his head as a way to show his acceptance and submission. I watched as the Sherriff sighed, shook his head and then rubbed a hand over his face- almost as if he regretted this. I just smiled in what was hopefully a reassuring manner. Shoving my books in my bag and grabbing it up off the floor I went to follow the Sherriff from Stiles room, though as I passed by the end of the bed Stiles stood and grabbed my hand. Preventing me from going too far, tugging me back to him. So our chests met abruptly, the hand that wasn’t gripping my own trailed its way up to my neck. Cupping it and pulling my face towards his own. Our lips met tenderly, just pushing gently against each other- until Stiles decided he needed more, until I was craving a more solid and substantial goodbye.

His lips pushed more furiously against my own, lips trying to pry my own open, his tongue seeking my own out to taunt and tease with his own. I felt his teeth nip at my bottom lip playfully before he let his tongue run along it to soothe any pain there may have been. Soon, almost too soon- he pulled back slowly. As if testing his restraint to not yank me back and kiss me to death. I smiled faintly at him and stroked my free hand over his cheek, feeling the faint stubble that was beginning to cover his lower face.

“Skype you when I get in? I’m gonna miss your face..” I joked, before pulling away from him gently as a throat being cleared was heard from the door way. I looked over my shoulder to see the Sherriff looking slightly bashful, before nodding his head to the hall next to him. I nodded, as I heard Stiles sigh again, nodding himself in answer to my previous question. I made my way from his room and house and began the short walk back home. It was empty, as I assumed it would be- I quickly ran up the stairs to my room. I jumped in the shower quickly, thinking quickly through the devious plan that had just sprung to my mind as I journeyed home. Once I had finished washing off I jumped out the shower and dried off quickly. I returned to my bedroom and checked that nobody was in still, it was starting to get dark, the house was still empty apart from me, I walked to my bedroom door and locked it- ensuring I wouldn’t be disturbed. I quickly raced to my drawers, searching through the ridiculous amounts of underwear and bras, investigating for a specific number I’d bought with hopes to wear it for someone special at some point. It appeared Stiles was that special person. I pulled on the blue lacy numbers. Jumping onto the bed and lying on my side, when I was ready, grabbing my laptop and setting to start up skype. I called Stiles quickly, making sure my camera was off for now- Stiles answered right away.

“Hey, you wanna carry on studying together? We could quiz each other?” I spoke into the mike, I watched as Stiles nodded- his mouth full off a handful or two of chips. I grinned, watching as he pulled out his books ready to start with studying.

“I’m sorry for the way my dad was acting earlier… It was just so embarrassing. And he had no right to throw you out or anything.. and I guess I’m just well sorry..” I could hear the aggravation in his voice watching as he shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Hey don’t worry about it, he was kinda right. Maybe we should cool off for a couple of days..” I stated nonchalantly, trailing off as a confused and upset look crossed Stiles’ face. I bit my tongue to stop the giggles from escaping.

“I uh..  I don’t understand what you mean.. And your camera isn’t on by the way..” Stiles uttered, his voice wavering slightly as he tried to wrap his mind around my words and their meaning- though he didn’t realise I was just playing with him like some kind of predatory animal playing with it’s prey before eating it. Though I wasn’t going to eat Stiles, I was just going to torture him some more.

“Yeah, maybe we should cool off.. But that doesn’t mean we have to stop seeing each other..” I say, smirking as I turn the camera on. I watched as he stared at the picture that revealed itself to him. His eyes widened slightly and his mouth dropped open, he raised one hand to run through his hair- fingers twisting and tugging on the ends of it. I could feel myself grin, and only hoped that it didn’t appear as feral as it felt.

“Oh god..” Stiles whispered as he stared desperately at the screen, captivated as I moved my hand to trail up and down my side- each time getting dangerously close to my breasts. I smirked as Stiles gulped, his eyes trained on my hand as I cupped on of my breasts giving a light squeeze- letting out a faint moan. Which had him almost growling in response.

“D-d-do you uhhh, need me to c-come over or something?” He whispered, watching intently as I continued to squeeze at my confined breasts. I shook my head giggling lightly.

“No, you stay right where you are babe. I’m gonna give you a little show..” I taunted before moving the laptop further away from me. I stood from the bed, turning my back to the screen- pressing play on my sound system- letting the music flow through the speakers. I listened to the beat of the song carefully before beginning to sway my hips in time. Turning to face the laptop again, I watched as Stiles leaned forwards in his seat, I slipped one hand up to the shoulder strap of my bra flicking it from my shoulder and letting it slip down, before doing the same to the opposite strap. I turned from him looking over my shoulder and watching as he bit his lip, I reached for the final strap on the bra- undoing it and letting the garment slide from my body completely. I swayed my hips a little more, shaking my ass to tease him a little more. I trailed my hands gently up and down my sides before pushing my thumbs into the lace cheekies I was wearing to rid them from my body. Once I was completely naked, I continued to sway my hips before I span to face the screen again Stiles was leaning back in his desk chair- his lip still between his teeth and one hand was suspiciously hidden underneath the desk. I grinned and let my hands wander to the apex of my thighs, feeling just how wet I was getting.

A groan came from the laptop on my bed, I watched as Stiles stood abruptly. He fumbled with his zipper and button on his jeans before he aggressively tugged his jeans and boxers down to his knees before he took his seat once more. I watched in interest as he pushed his chair back from the desk slightly and altered the angle of the screen so I could see all of him. His now black eyes were still glued to the screen, he spit on his hand and then lowered it to the place I had been dreaming of for the last few hours. His cock was standing to attention, resting on his belly- leaking slightly, I could almost see the thick veins straining on the underside of it, the head looked delicious as it was stained a dark pink waiting to be relieved by something; I licked my lips in anticipation and let a moan slip free, this man had a truly beautiful cock. I’d had him only mere hours before- but my body craved him all the more. He pumped himself slowly as he watched me standing bare before him, one hand buried between my thighs. I dipped my finger between the soaked folds, wetting my fingers before they led themselves to the sensitive bundle of nerves. I rolled it beneath my fingers, pressing with more pressure as I massaged in figure of eights. Stiles was watching avidly, moving his hand up and down his length more quickly. My eyes were glued to him pumping himself, he squeezed himself and lifted his hips up slightly.

“C-c-come closer, I want to see you.. Need to see you..” Stiles groaned out, I practically ran to the bed and threw myself onto it. I shifted the laptop around until it was at the foot of the bed and I was at the head of it- I bent my legs at the knees and then spread them to allow Stiles a view of how wet I was. Of how much I was wanting and needing him. I let my fingers wander back to my needy clit, rubbing and rolling at it letting out moans and mewling sounds at the pleasure and for Stiles’ benefit. I watched in fascination as he continued to pump himself furiously. I could feel a trickle of wetness drip from between my thighs.

“U-use your fingers.. Like I would.. O-o-one then add a-another for me..” Stiles moaned. I nodded, biting my lip as I did as he said. My finger was wet enough to slip in I pumped it in and out a few times slowly, allowing myself to get used to the sensation. I heard Stiles groan he was pumping himself quicker- nearing his end I could tell. The way his mouth was dropping open in an ‘o’ shape, and his moans were flowing freely and more quickly. I slid another finger inside myself, the wet sounds that were coming from me only excited the pair of us further- I swear the noises I was making only forced me to become wetter. I pushed my fingers quicker and more ferociously inside myself hoping to reach my end soon, as the coil of pleasure wound itself tighter and tighter within my belly. With one hand buried between my folds and pushing myself further towards that delectable ecstasy, my other hand drifted up to my breasts, I cupped my left one in my hand and massaged and squeezed. I moaned louder, I was so close. I just needed to push Stiles that little bit further.

“Stiles..” I whined out, I opened my eyes slightly and watched as Stiles pumped his hand up and down more forcefully two or three times before he tensed. His shoulders hunching. Hand stilling, I could feel the beginnings of my own peak wash over me. That coil finally snapping. It felt like a balloon had finally had too much air blown into it and burst from the pressure. A loud, almost embarrassingly loud, moan left my lips.

“Ffffuuuck..” I heard Stiles groan out. I knew he too had reached his end, filling his hand with his delicious essence, the one I wished I was tasting at this moment. I opened my eyes to see Stiles breathing heavily and almost in sync with myself.

“Well shit. I uh.. Really like studying with you..” Stiles chuckled cheekily. I grinned in response before laughing with him. I watched him quickly wipe his hand on a random serviette he had lying on his desk beside him. I just stayed where I was basking in the after-glow. Stiles and I continued talking about nothing in particular. The conversation was easy, considering we were both still partially naked or completely bare in my own case.

“Shouldn’t you like put some clothes on or something? Cause no offence but you’re uhh you’re kinda distracting me..” Stiles stated, I smiled and nodded. Leaving my position to pull on some undies and then searching for one of the many shirts I’d stolen from Stiles and yanking it on. I returned to my previous position on the bed and grinned as Stiles’ eyes flashed with recognition at the shirt he’d perhaps been looking for- yet was in my possession. I glanced to the clock at the bottom right hand corner of my computer screen and noticed the time, it was quite late and I should be getting some rest, considering I didn’t get much the night before. And I was going to see Stiles tomorrow anyways, he was picking me up for school.

We said our goodbyes, Stiles’ was only slightly disappointed- and I settled in to bed. Letting my thoughts wander to the brown eyed boy who’d just occupied my laptop screen, he was beginning to occupy more of my time and thoughts also. I smiled and let my eyes slip shut as my mind replayed the way Stiles would groan and moan, only making me more excited for what the next day and our next encounter would bring.