#teen wolf fanfiction

[the-ace-with-spades]

I haven't been into Teen Wolf in years but couple days ago randomly a sterek fic I read some time ago got stuck in my head and I can't find it so I'm begging for help

I don't remember much, just that Stiles was feeling left out/behind after the Gerard fiasco and he discovers his Spark power thingy was awakened sometime around Gerard tortured him and Erica and Boyd (and that's what allowed Erica and Boyd to escape the basement) and Deaton said it's impossible because Sparks only awaken if the person dies (implying Stiles died while being tortured).

I think it was angsty, with lots of Stiles feeling like the pack doesn't want him (Derek included??), and unfinished... Also, Erica and Boyd come back/are alive...

I remember the vibe and that I liked it so so much but I don't have it in my bookmarks so if anyone knows it, I'll be eternally grateful 🙏🏻

[avoxiado]

Teen Wolf fic rec!

• Word Count: 33,555

• Chapters: Oneshot

• Ship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Summary:

Derek Hale looked terrifying. With his broad frame and muscles, with his wild black hair and thick beard, with his eyes the color of blood and fangs of a killer. Despite his kindness and his apparent attraction to Stiles, he was still a stranger, a predator, a wolf.

The thing is, Stiles would deal, but others might not. People found Lord Hale horrid, monstrous and unapproachable.

If Stiles stood behind him, no one would touch him.

He’d be safe with the wolf. If not from him, then definitely from everyone else. And that was enough.

[silentmacabre]

my boy is a darling blue

[ateotd-izzy]

rainstorms | stiles stilinski x fem!reader

summary: it’s the middle of the night and you wake up due to the heavy rainstorm outside, and after you get up, your boyfriend can’t really sleep on his own.

warnings: none, just sleepy stiles

☾

you were woken up in the early hours of the morning by the sound of rain pattering against the window.

a few moments of lying awake made you shiver (that was because stiles was hogging the blanket) and realize how thirsty you were.

so, with a sigh, you slipped out from under the little amount of blanket you had (thanks, stiles) and let your legs drop over the side of his bed.

one leg of your grey sweatpants had hiked up your leg so it was rolled up to your shin and you fixed that before standing up.

the floor was cold against your bare feet as you slowly and quietly exited stiles' bedroom, careful not to disturb your sleeping boyfriend and his adorable snores.

you made it through the dark house and to the kitchen, where you got yourself a glass of water.

it was still raining heavily outside and you smiled at the sound as you headed back to stiles' room with your cup.

you opened the bedroom door and your eyes drifted over to the bed immediately. stiles was lying on his stomach, eyes closed, mouth open and one arm draped across the bed where you were lying before.

you smiled to yourself. he was so adorable.

you watched as more rain drops hit his window and it started thundering. you saw a flash of lightning and immediately walked over to the window and staring out at the dark night outside.

it was calming. watching as the rain stormed outside as you sipped your water at 3 in the morning.

you were so distracted that you didn't even hear the creak of the bed as stiles got up and walked up behind you.

"what're you doing up?" he mumbled, his arms finding their way around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, his face buried into your neck from behind.

"the rain woke me up." you answered, leaning your head against his ever-so slightly. "and i was thirsty."

"what time is it?"

"it's 3 am."

he pulled his head up to look at you. "you're a psychopath to be up at this time, i swear."

his voice was raspy and all a big mumble. he was clearly still half asleep.

"sure, buddy."

"crazy woman." he shook his head and closed his eyes, leaning against your shoulder again. "look at you, just watching the rain."

"it's nice, stiles."

"sleep is also nice." one of his hands moved from its place on your stomach and connected with yours. he tugged lightly. "please sleep."

"in a minute." you sipped your water again.

"it's so cold."

"then go back to bed."

"i'm not gonna go without you." he whispered, kissing the back of your neck. "i hate sleeping alone, you know that."

you took one last long sip of your water until it was all gone. you turned your body and walked back towards the bed with stiles, placing the cup on his nightstand.

stiles practically dropped onto his bed before rolling back into his place. he pulled the blankets over himself and patted the spot on the bed next to him for you.

you did lie down, except horizontally across the bed, rather than vertically. your head found its place, using stiles' chest as a pillow and he chuckled softly, his eyes fluttering shut.

"what are you doing?"

"sleeping."

"stop being a dork and lie down properly," he wrapped one arm across your chest. "dork."

"stiles, don't complain because you're a good pillow."

"yeah, but how am i supposed to cuddle you — or move for that matter — if i'm stuck like this?" he asked, his words still a jumble of nonsense.

"okay, fine, you win." you sighed playfully. you were already going to move, you didn't like the feeling of your legs hanging over the side of the bed.

you adjusted your position so you were lying next to him properly. he gave you a dumb smile in return.

"i love you." he whispered, still smiling, just now with his eyes shut again.

"i know."

his eyes shot open quickly.

"you didn't—"

"good night, stiles."

"hey." he glared slightly. "you gotta say it back."

"why?"

"because i need validation. tell me you love me."

you chuckled softly, pulling the blanket over yourself and moving closer to stiles, placing a light kiss on his lips.

"i love you too, you big nerd."

"thank you." he closed his eyes and held you as close to him as humanly possible. "now i'll see you in about... seven hours when i decide to wake up."

"good night, stiles."

"wait, what if—"

"good night, stiles."

"yep, good night." he peeked his eyes open. "going back to sleep now."

you chuckled and shook your head, lying down and closing your own eyes.

"what if i can't go back to sleep?" he asked after about a minute of silence and you groaned. "okay, well you woke me up."

"and you're the one who dragged me back to bed to sleep, stiles, not talk."

"touché."

a/n: just a little one shot from my wattpad that i felt like putting on here

[teencopandthesourwolf]

He freezes. Doesn't know what the hell else to do. 

He can't picture it: Derek can't remember the last time somebody put their arms around him. 

Was it Laura?

Of course it was Laura. How could he forget that? Derek has gotten pretty good at blocking things out—a little too good, it seems.

She didn't tell him she was going before she left New York. Didn't say a fucking word, just vanished. Derek had woken up one morning and she was gone. She'd known without doubt that Derek would only follow her if she had said a single word to him.

Nobody ever granted Derek’s wishes, no matter who he prayed to. The desperate pleas where he asked to go back and get a chance to fix things, they all went unheard.

Laura left to go back to the place they both wished still existed just as it had; a place they were wanted alive, not dead. It wasn't fair that it was the very same place they would be hunted down if they did return, like the rabid animals the Argent's presumed they were.

Leaving the way they did meant they hadn't gotten the chance to see if anything was left at the house. They couldn't mark graves, or grieve properly. 

That same place also happened to be the place they'd been born, the place they'd grown up and called home.

Derek had never wanted Laura to face all of that alone.

The burnt down house. The nothing where there was once everything.

The thought still haunts him. One of so fucking many. 

Beacon Hills is home—but it's the home Derek had helped raze to the ground with his selfishness and stupidity. Everything he and Laura had ever known, everyone they'd ever loved, it was all gone, now. Derek had taken those things away from his sister and hadn't even had the guts to tell her. Tell Laura they were all gone because of him, tell her that everything that had happened to their family, to them, was all his fault.

In the aftermath of the fire Laura hugged Derek, and had kept hugging him, over and over in those weeks and months and years that followed. She would pull him into her arms hold him tight, whenever she could sense it was all getting to be too much for him again.

Alpha.

Big sister.

But Laura only knew about some of the reasons why it sometimes felt like too much effort for Derek to keep on breathing.

He never told her about Kate.

And Derek, the fucking coward, he'd allowed Laura to hold him, feeling the flames of shame on his cheeks every time, hot as those that took the lives of his parents. His family. His pack. 

Now, he remembers that last time. 

“I'm going out.” 

Laura stood up, walked around the two mismatched armchairs and stopped him by throwing both her arms around his neck, pulling him into her and hugging him, scenting him. 

It always took him a moment to respond these days, but Derek hugged her back. 

“What's this for?”

“You. Because I know whomever's bed you end up in tonight, you won't be asking for one of these.”

Oh, fuck no. Derek couldn't handle that. Did she think he was out sleeping with people? Never again, not after…

He pushed his sister off him, gently; a stark contrast to the harsh words that followed. 

“Don't fucking coddle me. And fuck you, Laura—I don't sleep in anybody's fucking bed but my own.” A single mattress on the floor of the lounge of their shitty one bedroom apartment. Derek had so many shameful memories, and crawling into his sister's bed every night for the first year after the fire was one of them. “Just—leave me alone.”

Laura was the one—the only—person Derek had left in the entire world, yet his guilt was constantly pushing her away. 

“Then where do you go to all these nights, little brother? You might not be clinging to me anymore, night after night, nightmare after nightmare, but you're so rarely in your own bed in the mornings.” She hadn't meant it as a dig. She was his sister and she loved him.

Maybe she thought he was making progress? Seeing people. Moving on.

Derek spent his nights waiting outside of dive bars, hanging around in back alleys and dark places, desperately trying to find scumbags he could taunt who were big enough and hard enough to at least attempt to kick the living shit out of him.

Derek hated being a werewolf, now. He wanted to get hurt and stay hurt.

“Just—out.”

Then Derek turned his back on Laura, leaving her to stand there and watch him walk away as he left her to go out looking for a fight, without looking back. 

That was the last time somebody put their arms around Derek—and the last time he saw his sister alive.

It was two years ago. Derek doesn’t think he has taken a full breath, since. 

Now here he is, standing in his big stupid loft that he bought for his betas—yet another pack he managed to destroy—having given away more than he should, with skinny yet strong arms wrapping themselves as far around his shoulders as they can reach. 

Stiles.

“You don't have to hug back. But you can, if you want to. I won't tell,” the kid jokes. It's his way to connect, his connection to the world. A coping mechanism, Derek thinks.

He knows all about those.

“I…” he doesn't have the first fucking clue of how to handle this. Or how to admit he needs it—to himself, let alone somebody else. He doesn't know how to admit that he wants it. 

But this is Stiles. The one person in Derek's life who seems, for some unfathomable reason, to give a fuck about Derek. To care about him.

Slowly, very slowly, Derek lifts an arm and awkwardly rests a hand on Stiles's upper back, feels the muscles jump slightly under the kid's baggy clothes as he tentatively spreads his fingers and finds the back of Stiles's neck. 

Stiles's voice hitches just a touch as he says, “These can be on tap, you know. If you want them. Stilinski hugs are the best hugs, dude. Believe.”

And Derek finds he does believe. For the first time in forever, Derek believes there could be something good in his life again.

More confidently, now, he brings his other arm up to wrap around Stiles's waist and hugs Stiles tighter, properly, and allows himself to be hugged back.

Derek wonders how he has gone so long without this kind of closeness. Lived without this kindness.

He decides to let the 'dude' pass. Because maybe—maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, to be somebody's dude? 

Stiles's dude.

It's a fucking ridiculous moniker and yet Derek suddenly couldn't care less. 

“I think I'd like that,” he whispers into the forbidden place where Stiles's jaw meets long, pale neck. "Dude."

Derek can feel Stiles's smile as the kid squeezes him harder. And, ironically, Derek feels as if he can breathe again. 

.

for @greyhavenisback bc i want to hug you in person and can't <3 (unedited, forgive me!)

[hedwig221b]

Loud Love

sterek | T | 5k | ao3

established relationship, alpha Derek, alpha mate Stiles, 5+1, POV outsider, possessive behaviour, PDA

Summary: There wasn’t a single moment when they weren’t touching. They didn’t notice anyone — obsessed with each other, they were blind to all jealousy. The circle of one another’s arms encapsulated their world.

Close, tight, inseparable. They didn’t care if someone watched them, both lost in each other, entrapped.

for @kittenstiles

[soulofapatrick]

Falling Into You - Stiles Stilinski x Female Reader 

Summary: you and stiles finally give into your unknown crush on each other

Words: 2.6K

Warning: Heated makeout session; if you squint there's dry humping

Y/N’s POV

Living with Stiles has been far from boring. Ever since my dad was killed and my younger brother - Isaac - went to live with Derek, Sheriff Noah Stilinski graciously opened his home to me. That meant living with Stiles too, and let me tell you, it has been anything but dull. Stiles has this knack for turning even the most mundane day into a storytelling session filled with the antics he and Scott get up to. 

I’ve grown to love it here. The Stilinski house is like a second home, and the sheriff is like a second dad to me. He’s been incredibly supportive, especially during the tough times. And then there’s Stiles. He’s… well, he’s Stiles. Quirky, witty and always wearing that mischievous grin. 

Lately, though, something’s shifted. I’ve caught myself stealing glances at Stiles when he’s not looking. His passion for solving mysteries, his loyalty to his friends—there’s something undeniably endearing about him. Maybe it’s the way he cares for everyone around him, or the way he throws himself into every insane situation without hesitation. But it's more than that. There's a warmth in his laughter, a genuineness in his concern, that makes my heart flutter a bit faster. And as much as I try to ignore it, I can't deny that a crush has been slowly blossoming. 

Living under the same roof, it’s hard to keep these feelings under wraps. I find myself wanting to spend more time around him, hoping for moments where it’s just the two of us, away from the chaotic everyday that is Beacon Hills. Yet, I’m also terrified. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if it ruins our friendship or makes things awkward while living with him? 

Stiles is currently sat cross legged on my bed, looking so engrossed in whatever supernatural mystery he's delving into. His dedication is admirable, even if it means sacrificing proper posture for the sake of research. I can't help but steal glances at him every now and then, admiring the furrow in his brow as he concentrates. 

I wish I could tell him how I feel. But the fear of ruining what we currently have, the fear of changing the dynamic between us, it’s suffocating. So instead, I go back to focusing on my assignment, the words blurring on the page as my thought drift back to him. 

The room is quiet except for the clicking of keys and the occasional muttered comment from Stiles. As I sit at my desk, trying to concentrate on the assignment in front of me, my mind wandering again—this time an entirely different scenario and it’s one that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. 

I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to set aside the fear and uncertainty, to sit next to Stiles and lean in, closing the distance between us. What would it be like to press my lips against Stiles’? Would they be as soft as they look, as warm as his laugh? My heart races at the mere thought, a flurry of emotions dancing within me. 

I picture the moment vividly: closing the space between us, feeling the warmth of his breath mingling with mine, and the anticipation before our lips meet. I imagine his hands, tentative yet steady, finding their place on my skin, maybe on the curve of my cheek or the small of my back. How would it feel to have his touch ignite a thousand sparks, to feel the electricity between us? 

There’s a mix of longing and hesitation, the desire to experience that connection, yet the fear of disrupting the comfortable equilibrium we've found in our friendship. But in my mind's eye, it's a beautiful chaos—a leap into the unknown, a chance to explore something deeper, something that might exist beyond our late-night conversations and shared moments.

Before I can continue imagining me and Stiles the said boy breaks my thoughts, “Hey Y/N! Come here,” He speaks, excitement in his voice but his eyes never once leaving the screen. 

I force myself out of the reverie, blinking away the vivid daydreams as Stiles called out to me. His excitement is palpable, contagious even, and I push aside the rush of emotions to focus on the present. 

I rise from my chair, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and nervousness as I make my way to where Stiles is seated. He’s still hunched over the laptop, his attention entirely captured by the screen. With a careful step, I settle on the bed behind him, leaning over him enough to rest my chin on his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s got him so intrigued. 

His warmth seeps through the fabric of his shirt, radiating against my chest, a sensation I try desperately to ignore. The scent that envelopes me—a blend of old books, faint traces of motor oil and a lingering hint of coffee—should be distracting, but it’s oddly comforting. It’s quintessentially Stiles, a unique combination that feels inexplicably familiar and reassuring. 

I glance at the screen, feigning interest in whatever supernatural phenomenon has grabbed his attention. But truthfully, my focus wavers between trying to understand what he’s showing me and the proximity between us. His presence feels magnetic, drawing me in, yet I fight the urge to let my thoughts drift into forbidden territory. 

“Look at this,” He exclaims, pointing to a section on the screen. His enthusiasm is infectious, and for a moment, I forget the inner turmoil, getting lost in his excitement. 

Stiles is engrossed in explaining something on the screen, his energy palpable. I try my best to keep up, nodding along as he talks, but the proximity between us amplifies every emotion within me. 

Suddenly, he turns his head, excitement lighting up his russet eyes as he tries to make a point. His words trail off mid-sentence, and in that suspended moment, our faces are unexpected close. I feel his breath, warm against my skin, a sensation that sends a shiver down my spine. 

As if in slow motion, I notice every tiny detail—the freckles scattered across his pale skin, the way his eyes dart down to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my gaze again. My breath catches in my throat, and I’m sure he can heart the erratic beat of my heart. There's a shift in the air, an unspoken tension that crackles between us. His cheeks flush with colour, a shade of red that matches the intensity of my own emotions. I can't tear my gaze away from him, from the way his eyes flicker between mine and the way his lips part, as if searching for words that elude him. 

For a moment, time seems suspended, our silent exchange speaking volumes. I feel a surge of courage and vulnerability intertwine within me, a silent plea for something more, a leap into the unknown. 

But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it slips away. Stiles blinks, breaking the trance, and clears his throat, shifting slightly away. "Um, sorry, got carried away there," he stammers, his voice a tad higher than usual.

The air feels charged with an awkward tension, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. I try to ease the discomfort by standing up, intending to head back to my desk and salvage what’s left of our usual camaraderie. But before I can even take a step, Stiles’ hand shoots out, wrapped around my wrist in a swift motion that catches me off guard. 

Caught off guard by the sudden proximity, I stumble and practically find myself in Stiles's lap. His warmth envelopes me, and for a moment, our heartbeats synchronise in a chaotic rhythm that seems to echo the unspoken emotions between us. 

Stiles’ eyes lock onto mine, a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability swirling within their depths. His tongue darts out to wet his pretty pink lips, a nervous gesture that betrays the intensity of the moment. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, his hand finds the back of my neck, drawing me closer. 

In that heartbeat before our lips meet, the world around us seems to still. His touch sends a surge of electricity through me, igniting a fire that I didn’t know was simmering within. And then, finally, our lips touch in a kiss that feels both anticipated and inevitable. 

As our embrace intensifies, the laptop becomes a mere afterthought, pushed aside to make way for the burgeoning heat between us. Stiles's movements are deliberate, his hands finding my hips with a confident touch, guiding me to straddle his lap as our bodies mold together. 

The kiss deepens, the connection between us sparking a newfound intensity. Stiles’ hands, warm against my skin, slip under the fabric of my teeshirt, sending shivers cascading down my spine. His touch is electric, fingers tracing patterns along my hips, a gentle yet possessive hold that ignites a fire within me. I tangle my fingers in his messy hair, feeling the soft strands between my fingertips as I tilt his head back slightly, deepening the kiss. There’s a dominance in his action, a confidence that surprises me but also excites me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. 

His lips move with purpose, fervent and seeking, a silent demand for more as our breaths mingle in the shared space between us. Each movement, each touch, feels like an unspoken confession of desires long kept hidden. 

My heart races as I lean into him, relishing the sensation of his lips against mine, the way his body responds to my touch. And as I lose myself in the passion of the moment, it becomes clear that Stiles, despite his usual playful demeanour, possesses a commanding presence that takes my breath away. 

As the intensity of the moment heightens, Stiles’ touch remains both from and reassuring, his hands guiding me with a tenderness that contrasts his newfound dominance. With a gentle yet firm pressure, his long, nimble fingers press against my back, coaxing me to lower myself onto him. There’s an undeniable pull in his touch, drawing me closer until I’m lying atop him, our chests pressing together in a shared rhythm. Our breaths mingle in the small space between y=us, the heat of the moment making the air around us feel charged. 

His chest rises and falls with each breath, syncing with mine, creating an unspoken harmony. The sensation of our bodies pressed together sends jolt through me, an electric current that ignites every nerve ending. 

As I rest against him, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat against mine, a rush of emotions floods over me—desire mingled with a newfound intimacy, vulnerability meshed with a sense of comfort in this uncharted territory. 

Stiles's gaze holds a mixture of passion and tenderness, a silent understanding passing between us in the shared silence. His fingers trace gentle patterns along my back, a gesture that speaks volumes, conveying a reassurance amidst the fervour of the moment. His lips part as if to speak but instead, in a very Stiles fashion, a torrent of words spill out in a hurried stream. 

“I-I've wanted to do this for so long, and I'm sorry, I should've asked, I mean, I wanted to ask, but then this moment happened, and I just... I didn't want to ruin it, but I should’ve—" He babbles, the words tumbling out faster than I can comprehend. His apology mixes with an admission that he’s wanted this as much as I have, and amidst his rambling, I can’t help but laugh softly, finding the sudden flood of words endearing. 

Before his apologies and explanations can continue, I decide to silence him the best way I know how. With a gentle yet decisive motion, I cup his face in both hands, capturing his lips in a kiss that speaks volumes, stealing away his words and replacing them with the silent language of our shared desires. 

The kiss is deliberate interruption, a way to convey everything I’ve been feeling in a single moment. It’s a tender yet firm assertion, an assurance that words are unnecessary amidst the eloquence of our connection. 

As our lips meet, I feel a shift in the air, the nervous energy dissipating into something more serene. Stiles’ initial surprise melts into a reciprocated warmth, and soon, the kiss becomes a dance of shared affection and unspoken apologies. In that suspended moment, the kiss becomes a story of its own—a narrative of unspoken emotions conveyed through the gentle meeting of our lips. Stiles's initial surprise gives way to a newfound ease, his lips molding against mine with a familiarity that feels surprisingly natural yet exhilaratingly new.

His touch, tender yet assured, ignites a cascade of sensations. His hands explore, tracing the contours of my back, sending tingles racing along my skin. There’s a delicate balance in his touch, a mix of reverence and longing that speaks volumes about the dept of his emotions. 

As our kiss deepens, I’m enveloped in a whirlwind of emotions. Stiles’ lips against mine feel like a discovery—a blend of softness and fervour, an unspoken language that surpasses any verbal communication. Each movement of our lips is a revelation, a testament to the unspoken connection between us. His closeness has a gravitational pull, drawing me in and enveloping me in a sense of security and desire. In this moment, I feel cherished, desired, and seen in a way that goes beyond mere words. 

The intensity of our kiss, a universe of emotions contained within, is abruptly interrupted by the jarring ring of Stiles’ phone. Startled, we break apart, a shared groan escaping both of us as the moment fractures, replacing by the intrusion of reality. Stiles fumbles for his phone, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. With a sigh, he answers and puts it on speaker, revealing Scott’s urgent voice on the other end, asking if Stiles had found any leads. 

As Stiles responds to Scott’s inquiries, I take the opportunity to sit back up, adjusting my position so that I’m straddling his waist. The shift seems to catch Stiles of guard, his breath hitching slightly, and I can feel the bulge pressing against my ass. I watch as Stiles bites his lip, a subtle attempt to suppress any involuntary sounds, his focus divided between the phone call and me, shifting on his lap. His eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment, and I can see a hint of frustration at the interruption, mixed with a smouldering intensity that sends a thrill through me. 

Leaning closer, I offer an apologetic smile, silently acknowledging the disruption but unable to resist teasing him but grinding my hips against his, pretending to get more comfortable on his lap. I notice the way his breath catches again and his hands dart for my hips unsure if they want to stop my hips or help me roll them against that growing bulge. 

“Sh-shit,” A moan escapes him and Scott falls silent as Stiles’ cheeks bloom a pretty shade of red, “Fuck, I gotta go, talk later.” And with that Stiles is hanging up, practically throwing his phone on the floor and in one quick moment has us flipped over so I’m laying underneath him. 

“Hi.” I breathe quietly, an ache between my legs. 

“Don’t you ‘hi’ me you little tease.” He grumbles, leaning on his elbows either side of my head. 

“What you gonna do about it?” I challenge, loving the gleam in his eyes. 

Stiles chuckles softly, his eyes dancing with mischief as he leans closer, his breath brushing against my lips. 

"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you've started."

Teen Wolf Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[derangedangel]

Killer Duo - Isaac Lahey

Summary: Lydia’s throwing a Halloween party and your costume coordinates with Isaac’s

Isaac Lahey x Reader

Word Count: 1,591

Author’s Note: Apparently this was in my drafts in 2019 and I finished it in 2020. Why it never got posted, I’m not sure. The timing of this is funny cause I’m currently at work dressed as the character Isaac is dressed as. Anyway, reblogs and comments are appreciated. Happy Halloween!

“Lydia, I haven’t dressed up for Halloween since I was 12,” you said walking around looking at all the creepy Halloween decorations.

“And this is a costume party. You have to dress up or you can’t go,” Lydia replied walking in front of you heading straight for the costumes. 

“I have no idea what I should be. And most Halloween costumes for women are sexy now, which really means they’re short and inappropriate, and I am not doing that.”

The strawberry blonde rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even looked at any costumes yet and your already jumping to conclusions.”

“I’m just pointing out facts. Halloween used to be fun, then I grew up.”

“And now you’re at the age where you can dress up again,” Lydia smiled at you. “There’s just no candy this time.”

“So what’s the point,” you joked.

“Just come on,” Lydia said grabbing your arm pulling you towards the superhero costumes first. 

The two of you began to look through the racks of clothes. You ran a mental checklist of everything that wouldn’t work for you. 

Batgirl? No.

Iron Man? No.

Elastigirl? Hell no.

“Oh, what about Wonder Woman,” Lydia asked holding up the iconic armor for you to see. 

“Ehh,” you said fidgeting on your feet, “I don’t feel comfortable having my ass out.”

“Okay,” Lydia said sighing at how difficult you were making this. She stood next to you scanning the the other costumes in the superhero section and decided you were going to like any of them.

“What about a witch,” she asked.

“I guess I could be that,” you replied halfheartedly.

“No, I don’t want you buying something you don’t love. That’s the number one rule in fashion.”

“Lydia, why don’t you just look for your costume and I’ll find mines. I don’t want you to keep pulling outfits and I hate them all.”

Lydia turned and faced you. “Honey, I bought my costume weeks ago. No one is going to be wearing the same thing as me at my own party.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Duh, I should have known you already had your costume ready to go.”

“Yes, so this trip is all about you, my dear,” Lydia said tapping you on the nose making you smile. 

“Fine,” you replied. “Well, let’s go look at something a little more spookier then.”

_____________

“Barbie, eat your heart out.”

Lydia walked up behind you in the mirror and nodded. “You look good.”

“I look killer,” you laughed and Lydia smiled shaking her head. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror admiring your white dress, leather jacket, and combat boots. You grabbed your eyeliner pencil and added the final touch. Tiffany’s mole. 

Perfect.

As soon as you saw the Bride of Chucky costume, you knew you needed it. Lydia was just happy you didn’t go with Chucky so you didn’t mess up her bathroom adding all the wounds and fake blood on your face. 

About an hour later, the party was well under way and you already made your first rounds with Lydia. Now she off doing other hostess duties and you were people watching against the wall.

You saw Isaac across the room and smiled to yourself. You excused yourself through the crowd as you made your way across the room.

“Hey, Isaac. Nice costume,” you greeted, looking up at the tall burette in front of you. Well, he wasn’t brunette right now. He was wearing a red wig and a pair of Good Guys overalls. You snickered to yourself. Of course the guy you had a crush on would be dressed up as Chucky. He was basically the salt to your pepper.

“Thanks,” Isaac said, a grin lining his face. “And you are a... biker bride?”

You looked at Isaac confused and shocked. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“What,” Isaac smiled confused at your response. “Should I know who you are?”

“Yes,” you said laughing. You gawked at him as you held up your plastic bloody knife and pointed to your “Tiff” necklace. His eyebrow furrowed in confusion.

“I’m Tiffany...”

Isaac shook his head still lost.

“The Bride of Chucky...”

“Sorry. Still don’t know who that is.”

“Oh my God. Isaac, how are you dressed up as Chucky but don’t know who Tiffany is?”

Isaac shrugged. “Honestly, I wasn’t planning on wearing a costume, but Lydia said I had to, then showed up to Scott’s house with this.”

You shook your head, laughing to yourself. “Of course she did.”

“Am I missing something,” Isaac asked wanting in on the joke.

“Lydia knew I was dressing up as Tiffany and she made you be Chucky... we’re basically a couple’s costume.”

“We are,” Isaac asked, his eyebrow raised and smirk slowly growing on his face.

“Uhh, I- I mean sorta,” you replied fidgeting where you stood. “Especially, now when we’re standing next to each other.”

Isaac took a step closer to you. “So I guess I better keep you close then.”

You’re eyes grew big but before you could response you were interrupted. 

“There you two are,” Lydia said walking up to you and Isaac. Her blonde ponytail wig bouncing with each step she took. She definitely was the only I Dream of Jeannie here. You doubted if most of the party even knew who she was, but they all knew she looked good. “Well don’t you look cozy together.”

“Lydia,” you said a little too sweetly for anyone’s liking. “I hear we have you to thank for Isaac’s costume.”

“What,” Lydia asked like she didn’t basically have you and Isaac in a couple’s costume. “I couldn’t have him come to my Halloween party not dressed up.”

“Yeah, sure,” you scoffed crossing your arms over your chest.

“Anyway, everyone’s outside so we can take a group pic before anyone is too intoxicated to do it later.” 

“Lydia,” Stiles yelped running up. “Oh, hey guys,” he said waving to you and Isaac. You smiled and waved back before he began talking to Lydia. He was dressed up as Captain Tony Nelson, the perfect couple’s costume to Lydia’s Jeannie. “Um, so, I may or may not have gotten my Captain’s hat stuck on the roof... okay I definitely did. But it was Scott’s fault!”

“Seriously, Stiles,” Lydia fumed. “God,” she whispered under her breath shaking her head before turning to you. “Give it about ten minutes before the picture so I can get his hat down.” 

You laughed nodding your head. “Okay.”

The couple walked away, leaving you alone with Isaac. “Um, I’m going to go get something to drink. See you outside in ten?”

“Yeah,” Isaac said, giving you a slow and sexy smile. 

You turned and headed for the kitchen, letting out a long breath as you did. Isaac’s whole existence was driving you crazy. Although you did like the blue eyed boy, and you’ve been wanting something to happen for a while, he was making you incredibly nervous. You’d rather avoid him instead of potential embarrassing yourself. 

After you filled your red solo cup with the fruity punch being served, one of your classmates came up to you.

“Hey Y/N, cute costume.”

“Thanks!”

“I didn’t know you and Isaac were a thing.”

“Huh,” you asked confused.

“The couple’s costume,” they said hesitantly. “Chucky and Tiffany.”

“Ohh, duh” you said to yourself when you realized. “We’re not dating. We just happened to wear costumes that went together.”

“Oh... well, the two of you look good together,” they said shrugging then walked away.

All your friends were already outside ready to take the picture. Lydia handed her phone to the designated photographer, then went to stand next to Stiles. Scott was in the middle, with Kira next to him. Malia was next to Kira, while Stiles and Lydia were on the other side of Scott. You stood next to Malia, throwing your arm over your friend’s shoulder. Isaac stood near Stiles. 

After two pics were snapped, Lydia went to check the photos. She grabbed her phone, then looked up at the group. “Somethings not right...,” she said out loud, thinking to herself. “I know!” She grabbed Isaac by his arm and pulled him over to where you were standing. “That’s better. You’re costumes go together, so it makes sense,” she said smiling. She mumbled a quick you’re welcome to you before she handed the camera back over and went back to her place next to Stiles.

The person taking the pictures counted down “3, 2, 1,” then snapped a pic. But before you got to one, Isaac grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him. You shrieked in response then started laughing. 

“Okay, now a funny one,” Scott yelled so everyone could hear. 

Isaac didn’t hesitate, quickly picking you up bridal style. You yelped, then immediately stuck your tongue out at him. Lydia’s phone flashed as the picture was taken, then everyone stopped doing their poses, but Isaac didn’t put you down.

You giggled before you spoke. “You can put me down now, Isaac. The picture’s over.”

“I said I should keep you close. So that’s what I’m doing,” he said smiling down at you in his arms. “And besides, if we’re next to each other people will think we’re a couple, so no guy will ask you to dance.”

You titled your head to the side, your eyes squinted slightly. “But we’re not a couple.”

“Give it a few weeks.”

Your mouth dropped in a silent gasp, slowly turning into a huge grin. You heard Kira giggling behind you and Stiles’s “yuck.”

[babyflorencee]

Ignored ignorance

Merry Christmas!!

Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

Stiles' and I had gotten out of an adequately heated argument a couple of hours ago. He was infuriated with me because he thought that I was flirting with another man when I wasn't. So I've been ignoring him ever since. Now I'm not mad at him because he wrongfully accused of something that I didn't do, and would never do. But, I'm mad because he screamed at me nonstop for an hour before talking it out with me first.

It was currently midnight, and I was in the guest bedroom because I didn't want to be anywhere near him. I was on my phone texting Lydia when I heared a faint knock on the door. Knowing it's Stiles, I put my phone down, pretending like I'm sleeping. "Y/n?" I hear him whisper, trying to quietly open the door but failing miserably.

"Y/n, I know you're awake."

I just ignore him, trying to pretend like he isn't in the room. A couple of minutes go by and I'm just about to drift off to sleep when I feel the bed dip and an arm loosely wrapped around my waist. He put his mouth against my ear and whispers, "I'm so sorry, my love. Please come back to bed." His apology was so quiet I could just barely hear what he said.

I still don't say anything. I always end up caving in but I don't want to this time. He can't yell at me like that and expect me to forgive him so easily. "Y/n, I know you're awake. Baby please, I can't sleep without you beside me." He whines, but I still ignore him.

I feel him tighten his arm against my waist, pulling me into his chest and nuzzling his face into my hair, pressing light kisses all over my head. "I need you." And with just those three words, everything he did was completely forgotten.

[bouncybongfairy]

All Around Me

Void Stiles x Fem Reader

Summary: After having a bit too much fun at a friend's birthday party, you go home and wind down with a bath and a Teen Wolf marathon. You start reading a steamy fanfic about Void Stiles, which causes you to have an acid-induced trip about hooking up with him.

Word Count: 2.5k+

(!This is a smut fanfic, proceed with caution!)

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It took you a couple of times to put the key in the door but you got there eventually. You were coming home from your friend’s birthday. It was almost 3am and you were cross-faded, starving and your heels were killing your feet. After dropping your purse on the kitchen island you started drunkenly wrestling the heels off your feet. The fridge was your next stop, pulling out leftover whatever and sticking it in the microwave. As you waited you pulled your food out of the microwave and headed to your bedroom. It was kind of nice having the entire house to yourself. Your parents were gone, visiting your aunt who’d just given birth. You sat on your mother’s bed and started shoving the leftovers into your mouth. The nightstand starts vibrating, prompting you to check your phone. 

Heyy, glad ur home safe <3 just reminding u we dropped acid like 30 mins before u ubered home just be careful! (we should have listened to Ashley when she said no more lmao)

You completely forgot about that, at first it made your heart drop but then you realized you would probably be asleep before the effects really kicked in. Your parent’s room was so luxurious and you always looked forward to stealing it when they left. The buzz from being drunk was still there but wasn’t as intense as before. You ran the warm water and started filling the bathtub, it was huge and made you feel so fancy. Bring your hand above the bath, you feel the steam coming off the water. The feeling of washing the makeup off your face was euphoric. It was like the hot water was loosening all your joints and muscles. You kept one of your hands dry to be able to hit your pen and change the music coming from the speaker. After enjoying the bath for a while, you got out and wrapped a towel around yourself. Out of nowhere, your heart starts racing. At first you thought it was from being in the steamy bathroom. You fought through it and did your nightly routine. By the time you made it to your room, you were rolling. You turned on Teen Wolf as background noise, the silence was starting to feel too heavy on your ears. You changed into a big tshirt but didn’t have much mental focus for anything else. 

You looked at the T.V and watched Void Stiles take the screen. You began to cry thinking about how sad this part of the plot was. The tears were flooding and you were feeling high off emotion. You pulled out your phone and started to read Void Stiles fanfics. The combination of hearing him through the TV and reading about him was making you feel a combination of scared and excitement. You weren’t really sure if you fell asleep or dissociated but you scared yourself awake. Your eyes immediately flew to what looked like a figure standing in the doorway. It scared the shit out of you, making you jolt and sit up. Your chest was rising and falling at an alarming rate. Its head tilted to the side in an ominous way. Part of you thought you were still drunk and high and that you were hallucinating this appreciation. You threw one of the pillows at it and when the figure turned his head to look at where it landed you gasped and began crying. 

“Why are you acting scared?” the man's voice asked. Your hand flew over your mouth and you brought your knees to your chest. 

He began walking closer, slowly yet confidently. When he stepped closer, he stopped where the moonlight was coming in from the window. It was Void Stile, part of you felt relief because you figured this had to be a dream. Another part of you was even more freaked out because what the fuck is happening. His skin was pale and had dark red bags underneath his eyes. His hair was disheveled, sticking up and out in several ways. Wearing all black which made him look so much more intimidating. He was walking closer but still had his head tilted to the side. At this point, he was sitting at the foot of the bed, staring you down. 

“I asked why are you acting so scared?” he asked again. 

“Because you’re scaring me,” you choked out, barely having the ability to form words. It was like your entire body was submerged in ice water, paralyzing you and taking your breath away. 

“Oh no, I know you don’t believe that. You were just reading about me. Imagining me doing unspeakable things to you. So again, why are you scared?” he asked again but in a rhetorical way. He stood up so fast that you flinched, he walked over to your desk and picked up the framed picture of your boyfriend. 

“Is this your little boyfriend?” he asked while full-on laughing, you could reply verbally and instead shook your head yes. 

“Why are you with him if he’s not satisfying you?” he asked. 

“He can sat-” you were interrupted by Void grabbing you by the jaw, not painfully but forcefully. 

“Why do you keep lying?” he growled. 

“H-how would you know if..” you couldn’t even finish your sentence because you were full-on sobbing. 

“Do you know what the four things the human brain naturally craves?” he asked. As you shook your head no, he brought his hands up and wiped the tears off your face with his thumb, then licked the tear off his finger.

“Food, water, sleep and sex. Somewhere in the deepest part of your mind, you’re craving sexual gratification that the little boys in your life clearly can’t give you. I mean, why else would you have manifested me? Searched for the most ravid and lascivious versions of me on the internet to gratify your needs? They’re scared to cross a line but that’s what’s different about them to me. I can’t be satisfied until I’ve crossed it,” he was now standing again, towering over you. He was so close that his torso almost touched your nose. You squinted your eyes and turn away without moving your body.

Your ears were burning and you were starting to feel faint. Part of you felt like you couldn’t hear everything he was saying because your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears. He walked over to your dresser, opened the second drawer and grabbed the unopened bottle of Everclear that you were saving for a party coming up. He then walked over to your purse and pulled out a joint, without missing a beat he then walked over to a pair of jeans on the ground and pulled out a lighter. The fact that he knew exactly where everything was truly shook you to your core. You were becoming paranoid, convinced that he could hear your thoughts. He came back on the bed and lit the joint, blowing the smoke right in your face. 

“You need to relax, take a drag,” he said, extending his arm and offering the joint. You tried to speak, even though you weren’t quite sure what to say. It was like your mouth physically couldn’t let the words out. He angrily ripped the blanket off your body and threw it across the room with such force it made a thump sound when hitting the wall. 

“Do you really want me to forcibly blow the smoke into your mouth? I wouldn’t be surprised but you can just ask,” he said mocking yet angrily. When you reached out to grab it your arms and hands were shaking so badly that you were struggling to get a hold of it. 

“You know..” he started as he sat down and brought the joint to your lips because your hands were too shaky to do so for yourself, “your fear is different than other people, there’s a purity to it, almost like an innocence. So much so that  I can almost taste its sweetness on my tongue. The havoc and panic that is radiating off your body because part of you knows that I’ll have you but is so confused and scared by my presence,” he said, taking a swig out of the bottle.

He wedged himself between your back and the headboard of the bed. His legs were long, when they were bent his knees were significantly higher than yours. At this point you felt completely drained, still scared but it was like the adrenaline high was coming down a bit. You pulled at one of the strings on the ripped part of his jeans and took the joint from his hand. At this point, you were high enough to convince yourself this was some weird dream because you fell asleep crossfaded. You looked up at the T.V and saw void Stiles, in the scene when he stabbed Scott. You looked back so that you could face him, almost like you were checking if he was still there. His eyes were black, similar to how they looked on stuffed animals. The bags under his eyes were so red that they looked like they might hurt when touched. He was just staring at you, smirking with his head tilted. You leaned back and melded your back to his front, as you did this he slid his hands up your bare thighs. His lips were now pressed against the back of your ear, your pulse quickened when you felt his steady breathing against your skin. The hands on his skin were rough from biting at his nail beds. His breath was slow and steady, you tried to match his pace with his but couldn’t slow your heart rate down. He moved his hands to your arms, running his fingertips from your shoulders to your hands. That was when you realized you’d been subconsciously gripping the towel that you fell asleep in. Unexpectedly he grabbed your wrists and ripped them away from your body causing your towel to fall. At first, you tried to fight against his grip but then realized you didn’t really want to. You moved your hands up slowly until they were at the sides of his head. Running your fingers through his hair gently and cautiously. He let go of your wrists and moved his hands to the sides of your hips. He pulled you against him causing your bare ass to rub against his erection under his jeans. He pressed his lips against your shoulder and let out a groan. He swiftly slides out from behind you and props himself up with his shoulders on top of you. Now on your back, you used your feet trying to push his jeans off. He dropped his head a bit on your shoulder so hard it took your breath away. You gasped and squirmed in pain and in reaction Void pressed his hips into you, keeping you from squirming away. 

“How are you ever gonna explain this to whatever the fuck this C stands for,” he said referring to the necklace you had around your neck. He tightens the grip on it and rips it off your neck, crushing it and letting the mangled piece of metal fall to the ground. This caused a change in the atmosphere, it was like the snap of the chain symbolized the breaking of your self-control. He sat up and pulled his pants and boxers down, they were barely past his thighs when you grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him to you. Connecting your lips for the first time, the kiss was more rough than sloppy. His shaft was now pressed against your clit, moving his hips back and forth against you as the kiss deepened. You moaned into his mouth and rocked your hips up to meet his bucks. He moves his elbows so that they are right next to your ears. His fingers running through your hair and gripping onto the strands tightly. He pulled his hips back and thrust himself into you, he moaned and dropped his forehead onto your shoulder. He kept himself still while you fully engulfed him in your heat. Continuously tightening and loosening the grip he had on the fists full of your hair. You were in pure pleasure, purposely tightening and loosening your walls, admiring the feeling of fullness. You knew he was into it because his head was still buried in your shoulder. His mouth open and his bottom lip pressed against your skin as he groaned and growled, a bit of saliva dripping onto your chest. Becoming impatient, you start trusting your hips upward. He jerks his head up so that you’re looking at each other face to face. 

“Your eyes are so glossed over, enjoying yourself I see,” he growled as he began rocking his hips back and forth. 

“Holy fucking shit,” you moaned out going to tilt your head back but being stopped by the grip he had on your hair. 

“Oh no, I wanna see your face. I like watching the raw reactions you have to me,” he snarled as he sped up. Your core felt like it was on fire, burning in a way you’d never felt before. You raked your fingernails down his back, digging in as hard as you can. Instead of wincing like most guys did, he moaned while smirking slightly. He was pounding into you so hard that his hip bones were starting to pierce you with every thrust. The burning feeling inside your stomach was building to a level, your blood felt like fire in the best possible way as you began to cum. 

“You have no idea how fucking good it feels to have you spasming around my cock,” he said swiving his hips in circles as he pressed himself as deep as he could into you, 

“Fuck I can’t get any closer,” he said while bucking and cumming into you. He was grunting and moaning to your neck, catching his breath for a second or two before continuing. As he started his thrusts up again you started to feel how sensitive you were. After you both had orgasmed there was a slickness that allowed Void to move faster and deeper into you. He took one of your nipples into his mouth and circled his tongue around the peak before biting down. 

“Void I’m- it feels so ahh- sensitive,” you said, running your fingers through his hair and bringing him closer but he pulled away so that he was sitting up on his knees. You moaned as he pulled his length out and started massaging your clit with his tip. 

“Should I stop? I mean if you’re too sensitive then maybe I shouldn’t make you cum again. Maybe feeling my cock pulse inside you while your wall spasm around me will be too much for you,” he said repeatedly sticking his tip in and out of your slit. You reacted by wrapping your legs around his waist and trying to bring him closer to you which made him chuckle. 

“Yeah that’s what I fucking thought,” he said dropping back on top of you and started furiously pounding away at you. You were yelping from pleasure after every thrust, pulling on his hair tightly. You were biting down on your lip so hard that you began to taste blood. When Void noticed, he grabbed you by the jaw and kissed you deeply while maintaining the same pace. Groaning and grunting into your mouth, you could tell he was getting close because his thrusts were becoming more sporadic and sloppy. You could no longer hold your second orgasm back and arched your back while practically screaming. Seeing you in complete ecstasy and submission caused Void to cum, the look in his eyes was feral and completely mesmerized you. It made you feel powerful to see him so tired and drained because of you. He pulled out and laid next to you, propping his head up with his elbow. A couple tears ran down your face simply because of how overstimulating the second orgasm was. He used his finger to wipe away the tears and gave you a kiss on each eyelid. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” you whispered, already half asleep.

“Rest now,” and as quickly as he said it, your eyes shot open to your fully lit bedroom. The room looked completely undisturbed which caused you to shoot up. You ran over to your dresser and started throwing the underwear everywhere. When you pulled out the still-sealed bottle of Everclear, you knew it must have been a dream. You sat on your bed and took a minute to think about how real and vivid the entire ordeal felt. After grabbing your pen from your purse, you plop down on your bed to check your socials. As you bring the pen to your lips, it drops out of your hand. You sigh in frustration and go to grab the pen from the ground without looking but end up feeling some type of necklace against your fingertips. When you take a better look at it and realize it’s the crushed necklace from last night.

[star-girl-05]

Game Night

Stiles Stilinski x reader

“Scott hates me” you whine, laying against the bed. In the beginning you thought it was your imagination. Now though you know it’s not all in your head, Scott hates you.

Today Stiles had a lacrosse game so you being his girlfriend were there. The game went amazing. Stiles ended up scoring the final goal of the game. You were so proud of him, the smile on his face made yours grow. You ran onto the field embracing him in a big hug giving him a kiss on the lips. He laughed against your lips holding you close to him and twirling you around. “Congrats, baby” you mumble against his lips.

He placed another kiss on your lips before telling you that he had to go to the locker room. You nodded watching him head to the locker room with the other players. He gave you a final wave before disappearing from your sight.

After a few minutes you decide to wait by the locker rooms for him. The two of you have plans to go back to his house. While waiting for him that's where you heard it. You hadn't meant to eavesdrop but when you heard your name you couldn’t help but listen.

“Is Stiles coming tonight?” you recognized the voice as Lydia.

“No he’s going with Y/n” you could hear the annoyance in Scott's voice. “This is the third time he’s declined hanging out to spend time with Y/n.”

“What’s wrong with you thats his girlfriend? Don’t tell me you're jealous” you could hear her laugh at the thought but Scott doesn’t.

“Of course I’m not jealous I just don’t like her” you could hear Lydia question why that was. His answer solidified the idea that he hates you. “Stiles can do so much better than her.” You tuned out the rest of their conversation.

You knew Scott didn’t like you but you hoped that over time he would warm up to but he never did. The rest of the group didn’t mind you the girls would invite you out shopping and to sleepovers. It was just Scott that didn't like you and you had no idea what you did. Now you find out it was nothing you did, he just didn’t like you; he thought Stiles could do better. You finally had the answer to the question that had been plaguing your mind for months.

Your problems weren't over though with one question answered, more showed up. Did Stiles know how Scott felt about you? If he knows about how Scott felt about you, would he break up with you? You know how much Stiles loves Scott so the idea that Stiles would break up with you to make Scott happy wasn’t too far-fetched.

You watched as Stiles took off his jersey throwing it in the hamper. He changed into his pajamas before sitting on the bed next to you. “Scott doesn’t hate you” he grabbed your arm pulling you into him. The two of you are cuddled up in bed together, your head on his chest while his hand runs up and down your side. You lean up and place a kiss on his lips. You weren't planning on telling him about what you heard but you did want to gauge if he knew how Scott felt.

“If Scott asked you to break up with me would you” you could tell the question surprised him. He tensed under you. Stiles had just had a big win, his shining moment and you felt you were running it and you were. It was selfish of you to bring this up but you needed to know before it got any worse.

“Where is this coming from?” he chuckled at the sudden question but stopped when he saw the look in your eyes. You were being dead serious. He could see the doubt in your eyes about your answer. It hurt him thinking that you doubted his love towards you. “Of course not baby” the sincerity in his voice made you believe him. The look of complete love in his eyes settled all your doubt.

You lift yourself up off his chest placing a deep kiss on his lips he returned the gesture right away. Pulling you into his lap, his hands on your hips as he deepened the kiss. He started to place kisses on your neck. Sucking dark hickeys into your neck mumbling small ‘I love yous’ against your neck. You whisper ‘I love yous’ back to him.Every last one of your doubts disappeared with every ‘I love you’ and kiss. You're not going to let Scott come between the two of you again. It no longer mattered if Scott liked you because Stiles did he loved you and you love him.

[patolemus]

Here’s a little thing that’s been bugging me for a few weeks.

Summary: Stiles is a demon. This is common knowledge. At least, he was under the impression that this is common knowledge. He should have known better than to trust Derek Hale to figure it out.

————————————

Look, in his defense, Stiles was sure they knew. At least, he was sure Derek knew, and if Derek knew, then the rest of the pack knew. That’s just kind of how it works, when they aren’t hiding threats from each other.

(He’s not pointing fingers. It’s just that Stiles sometimes gets fucking tired when the pack does not tell him shit and then he ends up having to figure it all out by himself so they don’t get themselves killed. It wasn’t funny the first time Scott tried it back in sophomore year. It hasn’t gotten any funnier since.)

(Alright, so he is pointing fingers. Sue him.)

Stiles is a demon. And okay, before anyone gets mad and starts saying shit like ‘no he’s not, he’s just a bit chaotic’, he… well, Stiles will admit to being chaotic as a general rule, but that is more of a character choice. He’s being for real when he says he’s a demon.

His parents couldn’t have children. It’s just how it goes sometimes. But Claudia was a very powerful witch, and she knew a thing or two about making pacts with demons. So when the doctors told her she could not carry any children, she figured the next step was obviously to summon a creature from down below and make a deal with it in exchange for a child.

That’s where Stiles comes in.

Claudia probably wasn’t expecting a demon child to come to her when she did her summoning, but personally? Stiles thinks she lucked out. Stiles is a friendly demon, as far as those go, and his policy regarding humans is more ‘see what makes them tick’ rather than ‘make them burst into flames spontaneously’, so all in all, she could have done a lot worse.

So that’s kind of how he ends up as Stiles Stilinski, son of John and Claudia Stilinski. Claudia and John are the only ones that know Stiles’ true name, though only Claudia can say it right. John tries his best, but they all collectively decide that Mischief is a rather good alternative.

In exchange for being the best son anyone could have, Stiles gets to spend an unspecified amount time on the mortal realm. Claudia doesn’t put any restrictions on him, on the understanding that Stiles can’t go and kill people for kicks. Annoying them is fair game, though.

That’s fine. Stiles has never been particularly interested in needless violence. He’d much rather learn everything there is to know about humans. Such interesting creatures. Truly fascinating.

And that’s how he spends the next twelve years of his life. He makes one singular friend - humans tend to get this instinctual need to get away from demons, but Scott doesn’t have any survival instincts at all, so it works out fine - and spends most of his time enjoying the admittedly mundane life of a human child.

Stiles knows there’s a pack of werewolves living in town, but he never runs into them, and then they die in that terribly suspicious fire and the survivors leave. The town quiets down a lot after that, and Stiles tries not to mourn the loss too badly. The energy they gave off was very pleasant.

Then the werewolves come back to town.

Stiles doesn’t intent to get involved. He doesn’t. He’s a demon, he doesn’t care for mortal affairs no matter how amusing they are. So he doesn’t do anything when he feels the presence of an Alpha in Beacon Hills after seven years. A not his circus not his monkeys kinda situation. But then Scott gets turned into a werewolf, and Stiles doesn’t care for mortal affairs but he does care about Scott, so really, it was inevitable.

There’s also Derek Hale. Derek Hale with his lickable abs and his chiseled scowly face and that angryhurtsadmiserable aura of his. Stiles acuses him of murder, Derek shoves him into walls. How is Stiles supposed to not become completely obsessed?

Anyways.

Stiles isn’t sure how he ended up in a pack of werewolves of all things - demons are lonely creatures, they don’t get packs - but he can probably blame Scott for that. It’s pretty alright, even if he gets dragged into every possible supernatural matchup imaginable. At least no one is busting out the holy water. Not that it would work, that’s a myth. Stiles had that phase as a kid where he went to church every Sunday morning and received the sacrament of Eucharist just for kicks. His dad didn’t find it funny, but Stiles still thinks it’s fucking hilarious. Now he uses the name of Jesus Christ every time he can. It’s blasphemous and Stiles thinks it’s hilarious too.

Back to the point, Stiles never bothered to hide he’s a demon. He doesn’t advertise it, of course, but he doesn’t go out of his way to mask his scent or whatever. He’s powerful enough that he can take on mostly anything that comes find him. So he thought Derek knew, and was just being chill about it and not mentioning it.

Apparently not.

The bitten wolves, he could understand. They still mix up deer and rabbit after years of being bitten when they’re running in the preserve. But Derek’s a born wolf. He was trained since he was a kid, and it’s not like demons are hard to sniff out. Hell clings to Stiles like a second skin.

Well, it turns out Derek is the ultimate failwolf, because after four years, he still had no idea. It takes a run in with another demon - this one does like to set humans on fire, unfortunately, so Stiles has to banish it back to Hell - and even then Stiles has to practically spell it out for him. Stiles is only a bit disappointed in him. Mostly, he’s still a bit confused on how Derek even missed it in the first place.

“Dude, can’t you smell it?” he asks, and they’re alone in the loft because everyone else has gone out to buy celebratory donuts while they try to get the scorch marks off Derek’s wall. It’s not going as well as they hoped.

Instead of an answer, or a growl, which is his primary method of communication, Derek does something unexpected and fucking—blushes.

Huh. Okay.

Wait, no. Not okay. What?

“It’s not considered polite to act on the way people smell, Stiles,” and Derek’s voice is strangled, like it hurts him to get the words out. He’s always been bad at talking but Jesus Christ, this is excessive.

(Heh. Jesus Christ. It will never not be funny.)

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve sniffed out other supernatural creatures or people’s intentions. It’s what you do. Other than rip out throats and creep around my window, obviously,” Derek’s scowl makes an appearance - there it is, Stiles was getting worried for a second - looking back at the scorched wall like it’s going to magically clean itself with the power of his rage.

Stiles could probably do something like that. Maybe. His magic is chaotic on a good day, so he can’t really call it reliable. Destructive, definitely. Offensive, if he has to pick between that and defense. Stiles is terrible at that.

He’s really getting off track here.

“That’s different. You’re not a supernatural creature,” Derek says stubbornly and what?

“What?”

“What,” it’s impressive how he always manages to ask questions that don’t sound like questions.

“What do you mean, I’m not a supernatural creature? Are you—“ Stiles looks at his Alpha with narrowed eyes, mouth open mid sentence as it finally downs on him that they’re talking about very different things. “What did you think I meant when I asked you if you smelt it?”

Derek stubbornly refuses to say anything. That’s fine. Stiles is the king of stubborn, he can out-stubborn anyone at any given time.

“Tell me,” he presses. Derek doesn’t say anything. “Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell—“

“Jesus fuck, Stiles, fine!” heh. Stiles knew he’d break. “I was smelling that you’re horny. All the time.”

That— that’s not what Stiles was expecting. Um. Okay. So things got awkward very fucking quickly.

“Oh,” he says, and now he sounds strangled because he thought he’d kept that little tidbit of information hidden quite nicely. It turns out Derek was just being polite about it.

God, does it mean the betas can smell it too? Oh, no, no no no no.

(Heh. God. Stiles is so funny.)

(He really has to stop unfocusing like this.)

Stiles is officially mortified. Turns out even demons get prudish after spending so much time in the mortal realm. Who knew? It’s okay, Stiles will just find the nearest bridge to throw himself off from. If he has any luck he’ll die instantly and won’t get back to Hell so he doesn’t have to live with this knowledge forever.

“It’s okay. I know it’s not personal or anything,” Derek’s still not looking at him. He’s grabbed back his rag and is valiantly rubbing away at the wall. Stiles doesn’t have the heart to tell him that if the mark hasn’t come out already, it probably never will. He’d know, he’s burned plenty of walls before.

By accident, if his dad ever asks.

“That’s fine and all, only it’s very personal,” and Stiles is just making a bigger hole to bury himself in, but his mouth is faster than his brain. It’s an ongoing issue. “You don’t think I’m horny all the fucking time, right? I mean, demons do have that hyper hormonal stage at my age but assuming it’s all the time is a bit excessive. I’m not a succubus. This is completely a you thing.”

Derek’s face does that thing where it pinches in between his eyebrows and his eyes narrow a bit, lips pressed together tightly. It’s his Stiles Just Said Something Deeply Upsetting face. He uses it a lot.

Alright, time to backtrack.

“It’s really okay that you don’t feel the same. Really, I get it. I wouldn’t feel the same about me either. So let’s just ignore I ever said anything, and we can go back to trying to clean this up even if we both know it’s not going to come out,” he offers Derek his most winning smile. Derek’s face just gets even more pinched.

Stiles’ senses are pretty dulled here on the mortal realm, but he doesn’t need them to know his Alpha is probably very pissed. At him, specifically.

So it’s Tuesday, then.

Stiles takes a step back, just as a precaution. He doesn’t think Derek will throw him against a wall - he stopped doing that a couple of years ago. Stiles refuses to acknowledge he kinda misses it - but you can never be too cautious. And Stiles did kind of just confess his undying horniness for him.

Imagine if he’d also told the guy he’s utterly and helplessly in love with him. That would have gone fantastically. Not.

“You’re a demon?” Derek’s voice comes out more high pitch than Stiles has ever heard it. He’s surprised. Why is he surprised? This is what they were talking about, before Stiles stuck a foot in his mouth. “Since when?”

“Since always? Seriously dude, can’t you smell it?”

It’s like they’re back in square one.

So. Turns out Derek truly had no idea Stiles is a demon. No wonder he’d looked like Stiles had grown a second head when he banished that fiend back to Hell.

On the good side, Derek apparently also returns his feelings, after they go in circles a few more times and Stiles gets across that he’s not just horny, he’s in love. A happy ending, in Stiles’ opinion.

(“How did you end up as the son of the Sheriff anyway? Is he a demon, too?”

“Hmn? Oh, no. My mom just did this summoning ritual for a Prince of Hell to get them a child, and I showed up. It was kind of a two for one deal,” he waves his hand dismissively.

“You’re a what?”

Oh, boy. Stiles knew he was forgetting something.)

[silentmacabre]

man stays baffled

[tails89]

Short sterek ficlet 😊

“He took the Jeep again.” It’s not a question, and Derek can hear the amusement clear across the spotty connection.

“He took the Jeep again,” he confirms with a sigh, rubbing out at the lines of frustration etched across his forehead.

There’s a laugh, crackling in his ear.

“Who caught him this time?”

Derek settles back in his seat. “Your dad.” There’s another burst of laughter, and this time Derek can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips. “You should have seen his face.”

“Oh, I’ve seen it,” Stiles says, and Derek can picture his grin. “Many times. Usually I’m the one on the receiving end, remember.”

“So it’s your fault then,” Derek teases, sparing a glance down the hall. “He’s taking after you. I never caused this much trouble as a teenager.”

“Liar.” There’s no heat in Stiles’ words, but when he speaks again it’s softer. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Who? Your dad or Eli?” Derek asks, smiling.

“Our son.”

Derek can practically hear the eye roll from the other side of the country.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll talk to him. Again. Or maybe I’ll just take the spark plug out of the Jeep.”

“He’d still find a way.” There’s a beat of silence. “I’ve got to go,” Stiles tells him, regret hanging heaving in his words. “But I’ll be home tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” Derek nods, pushing himself to his feet. “Be safe. We love you.”

“Love you too.”

[teencopandthesourwolf]

"I'll text Stiles," Scott says, grabbing his backpack. "Then I'm gonna go see Allison.”

When Scott turns back around, Derek's lips are a thin line and they are the only part of him that moves when he asks, through his teeth, "Are you going to talk to her, too?”

Scott just squints. Because—huh? 

"Derek, what do you mean, am I going to talk to her, too?” He narrows his eyes even more, suspicious. “Why else would I be going to see Allison, if not to talk to her? I don't just, like, watch her from afar like some creeper, you know." 

Scott isn't about to admit that he has, embarrassingly, done just that on occasion. Alright, occasions, plural—but only once or twice! Five or six times, tops. And only ever when he thought Allison was, or could possibly be, in danger. It's not weird, though. It's not! It's noble, okay? It just sounds weird when you say it out loud. Even if he hasn't actually said it out loud. Well, at least not just now anyways; he's said it in front of the mirror a couple times and it turns out your reflection can be pretty hurtful and judgemental which, honestly, is a little upsetting.  

Just as Scott realises that Derek must know he just told a lie—half-lie!—the Alpha's face does a thing that Scott has never seen it do before. Ever. The dude looks almost… Human. 

And, what the hell? 

Derek clears his throat and shifts his weight from one foot to the other and worries at his bottom lip a bit and now Scott is feeling anxious because who is this guy? And what has he done with Derek ‘I Will Never Give A Single Thing Away About Myself Ever Other Than The Fact I Am Eternally Pissed’ Hale? (that's one of Stiles's). 

Just the possibility of Derek ‘Emotionally Open and Vulnerable’ Hale is, like—it's just way too much for Scott to handle on a Sunday morning when he's supposed to be at the veterinary surgery in less than fourteen minute's time and has to somehow manage fitting in seeing Allison on the way.

But it seems Scott is also too nosy to just move on from this and let sleeping dogs lie. And both of those things are really annoying because strange old phrases and being overly curious is usually a Stiles thing, not a Scott thing, so Scott really doesn't know what he's supposed to do! 

W.W.S.D. 

What Would Stiles Do?

"Um, Derek, have you been—"

"Firstly, McCall, following somebody around and watching them from a distance is not creepy if you think that they need to be tailed for their own safety, alright?" Derek starts and—well.

Exactly!

Scott actually genuinely likes Derek, for just a moment, because he knew he'd been right about that! He gives himself an internal high-five and an imaginary congratulatory pat on the back because being kind to yourself is never a bad option. Unfortunately, Scott now also has to admit to himself that it does, in fact, sound weird when you say it out loud. Or, well, think it out loud. Whatever, he knows what he means.

He realises that Derek is still speaking.

"...because Stiles is human and also the biggest danger-magnet in the pack, so it makes sense that one of us should be keeping tabs on him. Thirdly, I—“ 

“Someone, Derek!” Scott blurts, “I was going to ask if you've been creeping on someone!" he interrupts because—honestly, in the most way possible—what?! The hell?!

Scott is both stunned and annoyed at hearing that Derek has been following Stiles (hiding around dark corners and slinking about the place like a wolf ninja. Scott should know. Shut up.) 

Because Stiles! Is Scott's best friend! 

And, like, how long has he been doing this? And for what purpose, really? Because Derek's heart just skipped about twelve beats, never mind one, so reason number two was obviously at least a half-lie of his own. 

That's when Derek's mouth clacks audibly shut. 

Scott just stares. And he knows; there is more going on here than meets the eye.

Then it's obvious that Derek knows that Scott knows and then everybody is knowing and looking and looking and knowing and Scott just—he can't stand it, okay? He needs confirmation. He doesn't necessarily want it, but it's like his mom always says: Life's tough sometimes. 

Eventually, he manages to say, "Are you stalking Stiles, Derek?" and hopes to hell he's wrong because he now feels somewhere in between being affronted on his best friend's behalf, totally grossed-out because it's Derek, ugh, and maybe just a little bit amused. Or is it bemused? Possibly confused. Scott is definitely some of those words. 

And again, seriously, what the hell?  

Has Derek honestly been creeping on Stiles because he's concerned for Stiles's safety? And, if so, why? Like, does Derek even get concerned for humans? Or other wolves for that matter (apart from maybe his own betas which is probably only a biological thing anyway, Scott reckons). Does Derek care about anybody? At all? Dude doesn't even care about himself, Scott doesn't think.

Scott now tries his best to come up with another reason, any other possible reason, that someone might have to follow a person around, but he can't seem to land on—OH, GOD! DOES DEREK HAVE A CRUSH ON STILES? Oh, shit! Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! He can't. But he—nope. No! Because what. The actual. Hell! He just—no. No, no, no. He can't! Can he? Oh, my God, what if he does?! And if it is true... ew! Derek Hale crushing is just gross! And on Stiles?! Just, no. But also, why? And also-also, how the hell did Scott not notice something sooner?! 

And another thing: Did Scott somehow wake up this morning having somehow travelled in his sleep to one of those Affirmative Universe places that Stiles is always banging on about?

Man, Scott has, like, so many questions. 

Derek still hasn't said anything and is just standing opposite Scott with his stupid arms folded across his stupid chest with his stupid beard in his stupid loft looking really, really stupidly sheepish, and Scott thinks, yep.

Affirmative Universe. 

He doesn't know what to do and Stiles isn't here to ask, so he waves a confused (and maybe amused and bemused) arm in the air and says, “Derek, what the hell is going on? Have we travelled to an Affirmative Universe or something, because—”  

“Don't you mean Alternative Universe?”  

“—you never just, I don't know, don't throw something offensive or at least defensive back at me when I'm talking to you about Stiles. Or, you know, anybody else. Or anything else, come to think of it!”   

Derek now looks, for real, actually scared.

And Scott? Well, Scott is now officially terrified.  

His phone starts ringing and, as it's already in his hand, he just answers it without looking, eyes still fixed on Derek The Imposter. 

“Yooooo, amigo, what's the plan?” 

It's Stiles. Of course it's Stiles. 

Stiles is on the phone and Derek Hale might-probably-definitely have a crush on him, and Scott may or may not be in an Affirmative Universe but can't know for sure and can no longer speak or think or breathe.

“Uh, Scottie? Scottland? Sir Scott-A-Lot? You there, ol’buddy, ol’pal?” 

Derek can obviously hear who is on the other end of the phone. He looks positively constipated, his brows knitting together even tighter than before, tighter than ever before, and his lethal jaw is ticking away like it's being controlled by the World Clock in Berlin that Scott learned about in middle school.

Scott sighs, heavy, like he's seventy years old instead of seventeen.

Derek is now giving his best version of Scott's own speciality Puppy Dog Eyes (something Stiles and Allison always accuse him of), with a definite flavour of please, don't tell…

And Scott wants to cry. Like a baby. Like, throw himself onto the floor and scream and shout and kick his feet in the air. 

Instead, he grits his teeth together like the mature person he is, feeling very firmly smooshed between a best friend-shaped rock and a werewolf-scented hard place. 

Ugh, his life is just so unfair!

He mouths YOU OWE ME to Derek, and Derek's whole body visibly sags with relief. 

Then he takes a deep breath and answers Stiles—who is now chanting ScottieScottieScottieScottieScottieScottieScottie down the phone—with, “Dude, shut up and listen, will you! I think we might have a very real problem with Affirmative Universes!”

[hedwig221b]

Side Character

sterek | teen | 17,4k | ao3

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Derek Hale, Beta Stiles Stilinski, once again I'm asking you to trust me, Self-Esteem Issues, Jealous Stiles Stilinski, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Protective Derek Hale, Werewolf Derek Hale

Summary: He should’ve kept his mouth shut. He should’ve smiled like always. Now everything was ruined, crushed, destroyed. Dust, shards, and the remnants of his pride. Love that no one needed.

Derek’s gaze scalded the side of his face but Stiles refused to meet it. He had already revealed too much.