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#stiles would have died a thousand times

wellhalesbells · 5 months

Note

i desperately need to know what "troll the respawn jeremy" is and also hi i love you and everything you've written 🤍 (i regularly go reread the classics because they make me Feel Things)

Okay, so, "Troll the Respawn, Jeremy," is 1) a quote from Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt and b) the fic I've been trying to finish in time for Halloween for like.... years now. I cleverly only remember it exists in September, add a few thousand words, subtract about a thousand even, and then inevitably fail to finish in time. It's a great system, like, absolutely no notes on that, obviously. You're killing it, brain!

I'm honestly not sure how the thought originated in my head now but I do know the prompt for it was nothing more than 'zombie!Stiles' essentially. Stiles dies and the gang brings him back and he's... not quite right. The memories are there but his emotions aren't so he's rebuilding relationships, morality, and the everyday in this new framework where the only thing to stop him being awful is essentially if it's more work or not.

When it's not dark humor, it's actively silly. There's a lot of Stiles building bonds with Erica, Boyd, and Isaac, since he wasn't very close to them before he died meaning they have the least expectations for how he should be behaving. It's a lot of Pack, figuring out how his relationship with Scott is going to evolve and Jackson coming back and Peter's curiosity naturally being piqued by this less self-righteous version of Stiles and he and Stiles and Boyd watching soap operas together because of course they would.

It's a fun one and a humorous one, even with Derek pining in the background and Stiles having to decide what his emotional responsibility for this person is and if he should be the one to police his choices or not. Because, well, there has to be twisted psychology in there, right? It's a resurrection fic, dammit!

It's also a lot of making Derek do the work too, which I like - especially when I have a good reason for it, because Stiles is all path of least resistance, so these people want him, care for him, would like him around and so he would like to be around and preferably in a way where no one's commenting on his behavior so everyone's trying to help him build boundaries, want the right things, do the appropriate action, etc. So Derek's figuring out in real time what Stiles' motivations are and learning to work within them and having exchanges like:

D: "We can’t keep fucking if I die.”

S: “Unless I bring you back. You might be more fun that way. Less with the frowny face probably.”

D: “Sounds like a lot of work for you.”

Same kind of thing with making monogamy something Stiles might want by framing it in a way that's appealing specifically to him. It's interrogating in a lot of ways what's necessary to make a relationship work. My little ace brain has questions and this is the only way I know to get answers, okay, LOL

Snippet(s):

“You gonna get all deep and philosophical on me?” The church is a tiny one and Stiles had only ducked inside to avoid, well, everyone. He hadn’t expected Boyd would follow. Truthfully, he doesn’t expect a lot of what Boyd does. He hadn’t thought about him much before he died and even less after. Follow he does though, settles into the pew ahead of and at a diagonal angle to him. Feet up on the wood next to him, arm stretched out over the back so he’s facing Stiles rather than the front. Like he’s expecting Stiles to offer the sermon tonight. Stiles blinks at him. “No, I don’t think so,” he says, when it dawns on him: “Should I?” He doesn’t know a lot about being dead, having only done it for a short time, but if he’s meant to start spewing revelations, or even Revelations, he’s willing to give it a try. “I’d prefer you didn’t,” Boyd says in his lazy tone of voice that seems indifferent to most everything around him. Stiles likes that; it sounds like he feels. “What are you doing here then?” “Isaac was around here.” It’s close to where he works, this little abandoned site of holy ground. And Stiles had kind of wanted to see if he’d taken on any vampiric dead-guy traits and couldn’t cross the threshold. He doesn’t know what the new rules are, and is starting to suspect there aren’t any. Which is about the most horrible thing he can think of. “Then his boss called, and he wasn’t, and I was bored. What are you doing here?” “Keeping an eye out.” The way Boyd says it, it sounds like, ‘figuring out how many things are wrong with you.’ “Think I’ll start eating brains?” Stiles is genuinely curious as to what the theories are. Wants to see if any match up to his own. Boyd shrugs. “Do you want to?” He sounds genuinely curious too. Stiles shrugs back. “I don’t have any moral qualms about it. But it seems like a lot of work and there’s just pretty much no way they’re as good as Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, right? It’s a bone-saw and blood and innards versus opening a plastic bag.” He weighs them in his hands. “That’s not even a hard decision to make. If I am a zombie, which I’m not conceding by the way, then I’m a zombie with some serious dietary deficiencies. I require processed foods, stat.” Boyd seems to consider this, then decides, “Cheetos would be good.” After a second, he adds, “I have Runts in my pocket.” Stiles jumps over the back of Boyd’s pew and lands hard near him, says, “Then break ‘em the fuck out, man.” Stiles steals all the banana pieces spread out on the bench between them, and relinquishes the cherry ones as penance. They don’t talk. It’s not half-bad.

(Angstier) Snippet #2:

“You’re not you,” Derek says gruffly, not meeting Stiles’ eyes when Stiles lowers his head and looks at him straight on. Derek and Stiles’ dad, they just can’t ever seem to get there. Derek says it like he thinks this is why Stiles is here and wants it out of the way. So Stiles won’t be here any longer.

“Not entirely,” Stiles agrees, tapping his fingers along the counter, the island a buffer between them. “But the basics are all there, I’m just having a hard time accessing my,” he does a half-assed robot dance, “bleep-blorp-beep morality center. I kind of think maybe because it just doesn’t exist anymore?” He grins widely. “Fucking cool, right?”

Derek stares at Stiles’ adam’s apple, glassy-eyed and blank, says without inflection, “What.”

Stiles slides into the stool at the counter enthusiastically and talks as much with his hands as with his mouth. “I mean, okay, there’s action and consequence, right? And arguably the biggest action and consequence: life and death, I defied it and now it’s like, I don’t know, I can’t appreciate that there are consequences.” He rubs a hand over his buzzed hair, back and forth, back and forth, jolting himself back into the present moment with the spiky side, losing himself in his head when he’s not fighting its natural direction and his hand hydroplanes smoothly over it. “I just don’t feel things the way I used to and that’s my best guess for why.”

It’s better than his second-best guess: that there’s still a part of him that’s dead, that the only part that ever gave a shit about any of these death-prone people/supernatural whoosie-whatsits didn’t come back with him.

Derek stares down into the depths of his cup, asks it, “Why are you hanging around Isaac?”

Stiles shrugs, staring more intently at Derek the longer Derek avoids his gaze. He can see Derek’s pulse thudding in his throat, fluttering like it’s trying to escape confinement entirely. There’s a heaviness to him that Stiles doesn’t think has anything to do with the sleep that’s still clinging to him. He looks like the weight between his hands, cradling his mug, is as draining as holding up a bowling ball with just his pinky fingers. “I’m fixing him,” Stiles answers succinctly.

Derek raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

Stiles shrugs some more. His gaze drifts down to the folds of the tank top over Derek’s stomach, he wants to flatten his palm there, smooth it out. Derek looks so warm and defenseless, leaning against his counter, barefoot and weary, defeated and just waiting for someone to finish him off. “Something to do. Plus,” Stiles adds, sly and low, “I fix him, I know how to break him.”

“You want to… break him.” It’s not a question, more like a naked declaration that wishes it were uncertain in the least. Derek’s eyes are downcast and sad.

Stiles sighs, places his elbow on the counter, drops his chin into his hand and stares at the stubble on Derek’s cheeks, can practically feel the rasp of it against his mouth. “I don’t know. Something to do.” He’s really not malicious, he doesn’t think, just easily bored and inherently curious about how other people work. Since he doesn’t seem to.

Derek drops his chin against his neck and Stiles watches a slow breath move the weight of him. He doesn’t ask for anything else, has no more comments to make, almost seems to be rejecting Stiles’ presence simply by virtue of ignoring it.

Stiles stares down at the island, lifts up his other hand. It hasn’t left behind an outline of perspiration. He rubs his dry fingers against a dry palm. Stiles’ hands sweat; they’ve always sweat.

They don’t now. Now. Now everything is scorching, burning up sweat and tears before they can even make an appearance on his skin.

He lets out a gusty breath and says quietly, but without judgment, “You shouldn’t have done this.”

Derek’s eyes close, rim of the cup against his lip, expression pained. “It was my turn,” he says softly into the steam. Stiles watches him and Derek’s head drifts to the side before he wrenches it back, jaw tight, looking in Stiles’ direction but down at his chest now, where the scar tissue is resting under the cotton of his t-shirt. “To save you.”

“But you didn’t,” Stiles tells him blankly, but not meanly.

Anyone watching would’ve thought it was an upper-cut though, the way Derek’s whole body rocks with the impact. His eyes are closed again and he doesn’t look inclined to open them, not while Stiles is still there. His hand slowly curls around the lip of the counter behind him, holds on tightly. He still answers though, through some weird sense of debt or something else Stiles doesn’t understand, but he answers, says, “I know.”

Wip list is here!

#omgosh thank you so much for the KIND THINGS #they made me giddy #i cannot explain to you how much this fic should be done and would be if it didn't only exist for me #in this one section of the calendar year lol #that is not helping it. there's also.... i don't want to fix stiles at the end #i'm much less of a 'let's make it so this never happened' person and more of a 'let's live with it' person #and i just don't know how appealing that would be to anyone but me #i already have the last scene dialogue skeletoned - like they're endgame for sure - but they're also not... perfect y'know?#because love isn't the framework for stiles anymore and i KNOW that's not gonna be easy for anyone to deal with lol #i love it but i am also a weirdo so #sterek #teen wolf #!ask #wips #my writing

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amatchinwater · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Steo

Warnings: mild blood, violence,

Words: 2149

Prompt: @badthingshappenbingo square Slammed into a Wall

ao3 link Masterlist

---

The Shunned Fox

Stiles really wishes he took Cora’s words to heart about what it felt like to lose a member of your pack. Now, he didn't necessarily not believe her. It's just that Stiles felt it five times over. Scott kicked him out of the pack because of what happened with Donovan. Blaming the fox part of him for his wrong doings and not believing it was self defense.

That night, while soaked from the rain, sitting outside of his broken down jeep, Stiles felt all five of those pack bonds snap. Scott, Malia, Kira, Mason, and Liam. All torn away from him for an awful mistake. Thankfully, he can still feel Lydia because she'd never do that. And he never accepted Theo as pack, so there's that too.

Minor silver linings.

It doesn't make the pain any lighter. Just something small to cling to when the loss gets to be too much to handle.

So yeah, he wishes he had listened and really processed what Cora tried to tell him after Boyd died. But how could Stiles have possibly properly understood? He was still human then.

Untainted by the Nogitsune's mark. Which was just Deaton’s way of saying that Stiles was a werefox now. Apparently when a thousand year old fox demon spits you- a now carbon copy of your own body- out, it doesn't make you with a clean slate. No. Because it had to use part of itself just to create you.

Ever since the Nogitsune, there was no such thing as a "clean slate" for Stiles.

And it's not like Stiles didn't know what he was. He saw his name on the deadpool right under Scott’s like everyone else did. He kept his nose down. Helped the pack like he'd always done. Dealt with the nightmares and residual mental turmoil and stress. Not to mention Isaac leaving without so much as a goodbye and Derek leaving with Cora.

Scott never quite looked at him the same way after Allison died in his arms. As if the wolf couldn't differentiate between Stiles and the Nogitsune because they had the same face.

Aside from Lydia, Stiles goes through all of this alone.

If it really came down to it, the fox is almost certain that he could confide in Theo. After spending hours alone in his jeep just talking, Stiles believes the wolf would listen. After all, Theo didn't have to talk about his sister or offer to keep the fox's secret and he did. There's also the fact that Theo was Stiles' first crush. He almost wonders if he had been a little more trusting and accepted Theo as pack if he would've felt that bond snap too. Or if like Lydia, Theo wouldn't drop him no matter what.

Because even as a kid, Stiles could've sworn he saw the same twinkle in Theo's eyes when they looked at each other. Stiles still sees it.

But then he would have to deal with the smug smirk of satisfaction painting the wolf's face. The obligatory 'I told you so' when he admits that they're friends or that Stiles trusts him. And it also comes with the fear that the fox doesn't think he can reach out to Theo. Not after his blatant mistrust and disapproval that Stiles displayed. Why would he deserve it?

For now, he'll continue to lick his wounds alone. Heal himself and figure out where to go from there. Pocket the childhood crush rising back to the surface for now until things cool off.

When Stiles first became a supernatural creature, he thought it was so cool that his senses went into overdrive. While having a bad day in class all he needed to do was listen for his friends' heartbeats. Or the chance that they were talking in class and simply hear their voices. Now that he's been ostracized, walking the empty halls and hearing them planning in an empty room tears at Stiles' heart. Usually, the fox will keep walking as if he'd heard nothing. Respect the fact that he's no longer welcome.

But this time, "you need him," stops Stiles in his tracks. He keeps his breathing slow and steady in attempts to avoid being caught eavesdropping.

Theo could be talking about someone else. Except judging by the annoyed growl Scott gives as a response, there couldn't be anyone else.

"Stiles is smart," Liam tries to reason with his Alpha.

"Scott, the Beast has gotten out of control," Theo sounds just as annoyed as the Alpha. "If anyone can figure out a way to stop it, it's Stiles."

Scott snarls, "that's what Lydia is for."

How kind Scott, sounding like an animal while talking about why someone is useful. Would you toss her aside if she did something to protect herself too? Until her usefulness no longer fits with your perfect agenda. Though it warms the fox's heart to hear the others stick up for him.

"I need help, Scott," Lydia scoffs and Stiles can see the exacerbation on her face. "He was onto something last I talked to him. I think Stiles knows how to stop it."

That's true. Stiles found a book that showed a hellhound dispelling the Beast from its host.

"Great," Theo claps. "He's outside so why don't we hear what he has to say?"

"What?" The Alpha snaps.

Stiles is right there with you, Scott. He thought he was being quiet enough to go unnoticed. When the door opens, Theo is standing there with his ever present smirk while the fox stares in shock.

"Don't tell me you didn't smell him when he walked up?" Theo's smirk widens, "I could pick out your scent anywhere."

Lydia groans, rubbing her temples, "so not the time, Theodore."

Right again, Lydia. Now is not the time for Stiles' cheeks to be painted a hot red color. The fox doesn't miss the wink Theo tosses him before yanking him into the classroom, making the blush burn that much hotter.

Liam and Mason, sitting on two desks offer him a small smile, the latter speaking, "what's the theory you have?"

"Do you really think it can be stopped?" Liam asks quietly. Having seen the Beast up close and personal, Stiles can't blame the young Beya for his fear and hesitation. Or for him following along with Scott. It takes a lot to defy your Alpha.

"Yeah," the fox clears his throat, slipping his backpack off his shoulder and onto a desk so he can show them the book. "I found this a little while ago," he tells Theo, fingers wrapping around the text, "it shows the Beast being-"

"Enough," Scott growls dangerously, low and angry in his throat. Stiles recoils at the sound. "There's some poor kid stuck with the Beast in its body. I don't want to hear your half thought out plan that ends up with another teenager dead." Scott follows the fox as he takes steps back.

He needs distance or something bad is going to happen. Another teenager dead. Scott is standing here throwing Donovan’s death in Stiles’ face as if he murdered him on purpose. Like it wasn’t a matter of life or death for Stiles. All Scott sees is the blood on his hands and Allison dead in his arms, nothing else.

"Half thought?" Stiles shakes his head. That's not the case at all. The teenager will be fine. "Scott, I'm just trying to help y-"

"I said enough," Scott roars, fisting the collar of the fox's shirt and slamming him into the wall.

Sparkles dance around his vision as his head smacks the wall.

So much happens so quickly, the fox barely registers it. But that could just be from the harsh crack his head just took.

The second he hits the wall, Stiles half hears Mason’s, "what the fuck," over Theo's vicious roar. No sooner do Scott’s searing Alpha eyes come into focus are they being yanked away by Theo, shoving him against the teacher's desk. Malia steps in between the two and the fox, crouched and ready. Lydia appears at his side, locking their fingers together.

"Some True Alpha you are," Theo says, managing to sound menacing and calm all at once. Like it's effortless for a Beta to overcome an Alpha like that.

"He's not a part of this pack anymore," Scott defends, "he has no right to even be here!"

"It's Stiles," Theo growls and shakes the Alpha. "Touch him again and I'll kill you."

What?

"Holy shit, he's actually doing it," Lydia sounds amazed and proud. Does she understand what's happening here?

"I'm your Alpha, you can't-"

Theo chuckles darkly, "better yet, you so much as look at Stiles again and I'll break your hands to where not even your Alpha powers can heal you. You're no Alpha of ours." His words shoot a surge of warmth in the fox's chest. The feeling of his former pack members rushing into him.

The best of all, feeling Theo in his chest. Warmer and softer than the others. Stiles can’t explain exactly what it is, but whatever it is, it’s amazing and he wishes he could’ve felt this way the whole time.

"Theo-"

"No," he cuts Scott off again. Nice considering how little the Alpha let Stiles finish a sentence. "Come near him again and I'll officially challenge you for Alpha. Got me?"

Scott aggressively brushes Theo's hands off of him and storms out of the room.

No one follows him.

Not even Liam.

The door slams closed and Theo turns to face him, golden eyes flickering red for the smallest of moments. But Stiles saw it as Malia backed out of the way.

Theos hands cup the fox's face, "are you okay?"

Stiles' heart hasn't quite stopped thundering in his chest, but he's alive. Bringing a hand to the back of his head, he winces at the sting the action elicits. "That hurts," Stiles says, pulling his hand back to find blood on his fingers.

“I’m going to kill him,” Theo snarls, taking the fox’s pain.

“Allow me,” Malia growls, stalking out of the classroom.

Liam sighs, “I’ll go keep an eye on her,” before following the coyote.

“Mason,” Lydia tries to sound nonchalant, but her voice chirps, “he’s going to need help.” But the way she looks at Stiles and Theo- who’s still stroking the fox’s face despite there being no more pain- speaks volumes as to why they’re really leaving.

At least Mason doesn’t verbally question it, despite his face also being about as subtle as a billboard as he dutifully follows the banshee out.

“You didn’t have to do that,” the fox murmurs, gently removing Theo’s hands from his face now that the wound is healed. “I’m not worth challenging your Alpha over,” Stiles takes a step back, avoiding eye contact.

Theo looks dumbfounded. “Not worth it? Not worth it? Stiles,” the wolf steps closer, grabbing Stiles’ hands, “I would have done it the night he kicked you out of the pack if I wasn’t focused on trying to keep Hayden alive. To me, you’re more than worth it.”

“Why?” Stiles asks, his heart fluttering at the steadiness of the wolf’s. Not a lie in sight.

Was he right? That he isn’t the only one with a past crush that isn’t exactly in the past?

“You can’t tell me that with how ridiculously smart you are that you don’t know.” Theo smirks, “come on, Miecz.”

“I-” the fox clears the crack in his voice. He’s in a cross between disbelief and happiness that Stiles doesn’t know how to handle himself. “I think I do, yeah. But I’d rather you tell me so I don’t get my hopes up.” Stiles isn’t sure he can survive anymore blows to his heart.

It’s fragile enough.

Theo chuckles through his nose, dropping the fox’s hands to snake them around his waist. “How about,” the wolf pulls Stiles close, “I just show you.”

The burn in Stiles’ cheeks and the pounding in his chest don’t get to be processed because Theo’s mouth is on his. Theo’s fucking kissing him and the fox doesn’t remember how to breathe. Stiles was so swept up with being kicked out of the pack and not initially trusting Theo that he never thought this was possible. Yet Theo’s perfect lips are against his and it’s everything Stiles denied himself of wanting.

Much too soon the wolf pulls back, placing one last gentle kiss on Stiles’ mouth. “So you understand now?” Theo whispers, resting their foreheads together.

Feeling courage for the first time in who knows how long, Stiles grins, no. I think you need to explain it again.”

“I protect what’s mine. You’re mine, Miecz,” he rumbles in his chest, “and you’re worth everything to me,” Theo says before sealing their mouths together again. Explaining over and over again exactly what he meant while Stiles purrs from the affection.

#steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #teen wolf #theo x stiles #stiles x theo #bad things happen bingo #Match Writes

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 2 years

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any fics that focus on stiles’ adhd? preferably without it being turned into a joke or smth. love u <333

AND

Anonymous asked:

Hi there! I love all that you do on this blog it’s my lifeblood. Could you recommend any fics that are mostly about Stiles’ mental health or adhd? I’m fine with any ship if they have them. Thank! <3

Here you go!

When Claudia Died by VanillaFolder

(1/1 I 909 I Teen I No Pairing)

When Claudia dies, a ten year old Scott watches his best friend crumble from within.

Thanks, Barbie by 138andcounting

(1/1 I 3,397 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Derek is at the movies and there's this kid that won't. Shut. Up. He babbles, he talks about the movie, he talks about any old shit, and Derek is getting increasingly pissed off. There aren't many other people in the cinema, but the ones that are there keep shushing him so Derek doesn't have to.

Twist is, the movie sucks. So Derek finds himself actually listening to the kid's continuous babble. And it's kind of... intriguing? This 'Stiles', or whatever he calls himself, is clearly ten different kinds of crazy, but Derek can't help but want to find out more about him. Like, when Stiles is talking about something random, Derek is imagining the questions he would ask if he could. And does a mental high five when Stiles answers them anyway. And kind of. Gets annoyed. When the other people in the cinema shush him so he can't finish his sentences. God, what is HAPPENING to him?

4 AM Knows All My Secrets by elysiumwaits

(1/1 I 3,815 I Teen I Sterek)

In which Stiles can't sleep.

No, you don't get it. He really can't sleep.

Don't do research based on fanfics (or do it) by Chuluvya

(1/1 I 5,903 I General I Sterek)

Stiles had a problem: he was smothered and uncomfortable in pack piles, and every time they do it, he couldn't sleep.

So, being who he is, Stiles goes searching for a solution to the problem, because he love puppies piles and want to be into them, and after two days of searching, he ended up on ao3.

And the word 'nesting' sounds like the most effective solution.

Eyebrows Are The Windows To The Soul by UnfortunatelyDisastrous

(6/6 I 12,908 I Teen I Sterek)

Only Stiles can decipher Derek’s eyebrow gymnastics.

Or Five times Stiles deciphers Derek’s nonverbal communication while everyone else watches on in astonished amusement, then one time he’s called out on it.

Three Phone Calls by pandabomb

(3/3 I 15,676 I Mature I Sterek)

“You’re not a hooker, Stiles.” “Okay, yes, true, but—for a thousand dollars…”

An AU in which Scott and Stiles live in a shitty apartment in NYC, Lydia is still queenly, and Derek is a clueless rich guy who mistakes Stiles for a hooker. Light-hearted, thinly-plotted fun.

An Alpha's Mate by EmeraldOcean

(20/? I 90,014 I Explicit I Sterek)

The threat of a rival pack and the discovery of a previously forgotten Hale family legend has Derek playing reluctant partners with his uncle Peter. And that's not the only strange thing that Stiles has noticed about Derek lately. But even the unexpectedly pleasant changes to their relationship can't completely erase the feeling that there's something he's not being told... Something that may change his life irrevocably.

A Crack in the Stained Glass by SpaceAce281990

(24/24 I 94,464 I Not Rated I Sterek)

Stiles has reached a breaking point in his life. He no longer knows how or why he is in his marriage or how it got to the point it has. Still in love with Derek, and tired of the constant pain and chaos, he begins to reminisce on how he got to this point. Speaking to Derek unlocks his emotions in ways he didn't think was possible before this night.

From the Darkness Comes a Spark by ash_mcj

(30/40 I 220,317 I Teen I Sterek)

It’s extraordinary how much can happen in a single year. How relationships can fall apart, along with the people in them. How a friend can become a lifeline, holding you up in the sea of emotions you find yourself drowning in. How you can lose everything you care about.

In one year, the death of Stiles’ mother sent his father into alcoholism, as he tried to battle the inner darkness with a bottle in each hand. Stiles’ godfathers, Peter and Chris, spent most of their time trying to pull the whiskey from his fingers, but it didn’t change the fact that Stiles was essentially losing both of his parents.

In one year, Derek found company in two girls who irrevocably changed his life. One gave him distressing clarity that caused him to pull away from his anchor, and the other lit his world on fire until there was nothing but ash on his hands.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #adhd!stiles #anon #no pairing #scott and stiles

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mommalosthermind · 11 months

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Sterek Beast's Beauty?

Okay! Yes!

@annechen-melo

Beast’s Beauty is a WIP I started…. Seven years ago? Directly after Mend and Make Do was published. Initial file was over 200k when I realized I was trying to hold too many plot lines together and had to go back to the beginning and untangle them to even begin to *find* a resolution. Current wip is broken down into an astonishing number of ‘keep your facts straight’ folders, with four completed chapters and four interlude chapters. Word count for revision is 63,952.

The overall plot started as a simple, “I want Erica and Stiles to be childhood besties who fell apart after his mom dies. Erica goes missing due to a shitty prank and Stiles drags Scott into the Epic Quest To Find Her. Werewolves happen, maybe some beauty and the beast references.”

…I attempted a summary but I keep getting excited and going into waaay too much detail lmao so bare bones of the revision: Stiles finds Erica, they get trapped on the old Hale property, despite the way the house itself should have burned down with the entire family inside years ago. Erica’s bitten, Stiles is sleuthing, Derek is traumatized and entirely unhelpful, and for some reason the pictures of his family keep... moving. Slow burn for Sterek, since Derek thinks Stiles Knows Things because He Should, but Stiles has holes in his memory and doesn’t know shit, and has zero patience for the cryptic bullshit. Also the whole, ‘biting as an introductory activity’ thing. Bad manners, really. So. An awful lot of beauty and the beast, actually.

Side plots are exploring Chris/John (the sheriff is john. He just is.) with the fun backstory of “they were in a triad with Claudia but then Kate Happened and Gerard Intervened” while Chris tries to help locate the missing kids while keeping his father at bay. Lydia keeps sleepwalking to the edge of the woods, Jackson’s trying to keep her safe from both herself and her father, who seems cruel for the sake of it. Hale family isn’t as missing as Stiles thinks. Stiles would really like to blame all the weird shit he keeps experiencing on the adderall withdrawal but he hasn’t touched that since his mom died. He’s pretty sure being able to spy on his dad through a glass of water is maybe not a noted side effect, either. Scott’s attempting to be a good friend but makes bad choices because he is a teenager. Allison’s trying to be helpful, but also thinks her aunt is great. Her aunt, who seems to be entirely too aware of what’s going on the in preserve, and a little too keen on Scott.

There is. A lot. It is messy and I love it dearly and I have no fucking idea how I’m gonna wrap this all together so it’s been sitting in the ‘please love me’ section of the WiPs. Re-reading through bits and pieces to find a chunk to share was fun, though. I didn’t realize I missed this disaster project so much.

Speaking of finding a snippet, I went with something in chapter 4. And by snippet I meant its like a thousand words because I have a problem and don’t know how to do Small Things, so I’ll tuck that under a cut. (Also entirely unedited from the last time I played in this sandbox so. Probably errors.)

“Alright, dickweed,” Stiles announced, barreling into the kitchen. “Time to—

Shadowman leaned against the island, head flying up from where he’d let it hang between his sloped shoulders. One hand shot out to slam a small frame flat against the countertop, laying atop it as though it could right itself without permission, as he stood tall, eyes wild.

“—Pony up some… what the hell, dude? What’s that?”

“None of your business. You shouldn’t be down here, she asked you to stay.”

Stiles pursed his mouth to one side, resisting the urge to squint across the room. He changed trajectory, letting his feet wander him around the far side of the island. “See, that, that right there? That’s kind of the running theme. You know things,” he swept a hand out in a grand gesture, noting the way Shadowman shifted to one side to keep Stiles in view, “things us mere mortals don’t—”

“Mere mortals.”

“‘Swhat I said, yeah. Point! You know, we don’t, you don’t share with the class, and I’m not digging this whole routine at all, man, so let’s try something new, like, oh, I don’t know,” he slapped his hands down on the edge of the island.

Shadowman’s fingers, splayed across the frame, twitched closer to his palm.

“Werewolves, for starters.”

Silence hung over the room. Stiles counted his breaths, forcing his hands flat against the countertop. Cloth swished as Shadowman went boxy, arms crossing over his chest. That sardonic slant to his mouth came back, a tiny upward pull of his brows sprinkling humor on top. “Took you long enough, Stilinski.”

“Oh fuck you, dude,” Stiles shoved himself away from the counter, only to immediately press around the corner and get into the taller man’s face. “You could’ve told us at any point in time—”

“I did,” Shadowman drawled, not acknowledging Stiles’ flailing limbs at all. “Repeatedly. She ignored me. You ignored me. You,” he took a step closer, forcing Stiles back enough to be able to look up the last few inches into his face. “Repeatedly told me you were both human.” He snorted, inelegant.

“Okay, first off, I? Am one hundred percent human.” Stiles waved a hand down his side. “This is prime unbitten human, right here.” He decided to be the bigger man and ignore the blatant way Shadowman rolled his eyes. “Second, your explanation was severely lacking in that it had zero actual explaining. At all. Ever. At any point. Don’t you take that tone of eyebrow with me,” he added, watching as Shadowman’s eyebrows did a funny little waggle as he mouthed Stiles’ words.

“Werewolves,” Stiles snapped, determined to wring out every ounce of information he could. “That’s a thing. Erica is a wolf.” He paused, staring pointedly at Shadowman until he nodded. “Erica is a werewolf because you are a werewolf, and you bit her. That’s the gift you mean. Being changed.” Another nod. “All the weird shit she’s doing is werewolfy shit. The senses, the healing— she’s gonna heal fine, right?”

“Yes, and yes, Mi—” Exasperation cut off in a clack of teeth. “Do you honestly not know this?”

“Uh, why the fuck would I know literally any of this? Was there a class I missed? Like, is it between Chem and History? No, I don’t know any of this!”

Shadowman gave ground instead of answering, retreating back to the kitchen table, expression indecipherable.

Rookie mistake. In a flash, Stiles wrenched the abandoned frame upright. Whatever he might have expected, he honestly didn’t know, but time fractured around the edges as he took her in. Long, wavy brown hair around an oval face. Huge, startled eyes swirled with brown and green. A sloping nose over a horrified, opened mouth. Parts of a whole his mind slipped over, again and again, unable to click sections together.

The frame clattered back to the counter from his numb fingers. Stiles hunched over, hands shooting up to press into his skull. They couldn’t stop the abrupt flashes of red hot iron scraping along the inside of his brain; the pressure made it close to manageable.

“Mischief—” A man’s voice, far off and distorted, hands on his shoulders. “Stel? What—” the words broke down into unintelligible hisses. Stiles whined. Every sound rubbed against the raw edges of his head.

The headache drained away in small bursts, leaving him panting against the island. Shadowman hovered a few feet away, the frame cradled in one hand. Both forearms carried new black tattoos, snaking around each other in broad ropes.

“I have… so many more questions now,” Stiles muttered. He gave himself three deep breaths before forcing himself to stand, more than half convinced the movement would jar the pickax in his brain back to life.

It didn’t, but the memory made his movement cautious. He held out one hand, as imperious as he could manage with wobbly legs. “Give it back.”

Dark brows snapped together.

Stiles’ jaw clenched and his nose flared. “It’s pretty obvious you know more than I’ve even thought to ask yet,” he started, voice a low rasp in his throat. “Don’t think we won’t get to that, wolfboy, because we will.” The flinch looked unconscious, and was deeply satisfying to witness. “But first, give her back.”

Those stupid brows slid up, Shadowman's mouth falling open, even as his eyes darted around the room. His hand, though, held the frame closer to his chest. “Her?”

Stiles snorted, closing his eyes for a beat, hands on his hips as he tried to roll some of the tension from his neck. “You wanna play that game, man? Okay. Cool. We can do this dance. I know her.” It rang in his chest as he said it, so he said it again. “I know her. I know she’s about this tall,” he held a hand out to the side, above his shoulders. “I know she’s got a mole on the left side of her face, and tattoo. Tattoos? I know she smells like paint and fire,” he couldn’t stop once he started, even as the pickax turned into a power drill at the top of his spine. Despite the water in his eyes and the rocks squeezing his voice he added, “I know she makes me think of chocolate and playgrounds and stars, and I know that I don’t fucking know how I know any of that, but I’m beginning to think you do, so give her back.”

This time, when he reached out, Shadowman met him stare for stare. This time, the silence stretched until Stiles’ extended hand began to tremble. This time, mouth thin, Shadowman dropped his eyes to the side and pressed the body-warmed frame into Stiles’ grip.

#Sterek #tag game #mommatalks #annechen-melo #asks #Oh my god I missed this wip so much?? It’s SO much better than I remember?? Still no idea what the fuck to do with it im 63k in an i havent #fucking even DONE anything yet #they’ve been in this house for like two days! Why is this so LONG #i have an entire second wip somewhere (might be IN this wip actually) about the Chris and john and Claudia shit #that is. Also like 60k #Thank you for sending this ask! Poking back through this story has made my entire day lmao

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harshii2330 · 6 months

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The Boy Who Runs With The Wolves !!!!

Dear Mieczyslaw Stilinski,(I still don’t know how to pronounce your name!) The Human, The Jeep Lover, The Sarcastic One, The Brother, The Lover, The Friend, The Trouble, The Robin(sometimes!), The Solver…

Thank you for staying human. Being human. It felt extraordinary to be a part of your journey from a spooky teenager to a wonderful man. I knew you were the sarcastic one when you said you found a body and Scott asked, “A dead body?”. And you replied, “No! A body of water! Of course a dead body, you dumb-ass!”. Or when you defined, “Lying!”. You were right to yell at Scott! Yes, you are 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones and sarcasm is your only defense. And yes, I am familiar with the term. But I do know this too. It was a shade, a curtain. To hide your fears. Your mother, wasn’t your fault, Stiles. You loved her and she knows that. And your father, he loves you too, even though you are a trouble. That’s what fathers do! They love you, unconditionally. Its kind of their thing! And we keep troubling them. You’re not alone in that! ;)

Okay! I agree that you were brave and a little stupid, to go into the woods in the middle of the night dragging your greatest friend in the world, to trouble. The night that changed your life, his too. But you figured it out. You always figure it out. You helped him. Stood by him. Without you, he’d be dead by now!(May be!)Okay! I agree that you were brave and a little stupid, to go into the woods in the middle of the night dragging your greatest friend in the world, to trouble. The night that changed your life, his too. But you figured it out. You always figure it out. You helped him. Stood by him. Without you, he’d be dead by now!(May be!)

You were a great friend, Stiles. You were ready to die for them a thousand times. I know you loved Scott like a brother. No! He was your brother. The parabatai. You guys weren’t no-one. And the pain must’ve killed you when he said he wanted to kill himself. But as always, you were there for him. You brought him back.

But then when you became the Nogitsune, you hurt him. It must’ve hurt you to hurt him right? I saw your tears when you stabbed him. The tears of a boy who was trapped inside his own body, while hurting his brother. But you are part of the pack. How can the pack not answer when the Alpha calls?

You taught me its okay to be not okay. But find happiness anyway. And it broke your heart when Scott didn’t trust you. But you taught me not all of us are true alphas. And that we make mistakes and learn from them. That we lose hope sometimes. And we’re not perfect. Some of us are human. Just human. And we’ll have to learn to live with our mistakes. And that we can make up-to it. If we try. And you did.

Oh! and Lydia! You were meant for each other. I remember you saying you’d go out of your frigging mind if something happened to her. You would, Stiles. You’d never be the same. ’Cause you love her. You always loved her. Even when she didn’t love herself. Even when you knew she was 60% evil!

You told her to remember you loved her, and guess what? She did. She was the only one who did. She loved you and you knew. She never even had to say it back. Your love was such. You get hurt and she feels the pain. You would’ve gone to hell for her, but she would’ve stayed to burn with you. It was the purest form of romantic love. Your love brought you back. Always REMEMBER that. And when you kissed, she felt the sunshine coursing through her veins. It was the moment when it all changed. You were the truth of her life and she knew it. And your 15-year plan is still in motion. God! I could write pages about your love and even they wouldn’t suffice!

I know somewhere deep down you feel that Allison was your fault, don’t be. She died saving you, her friends. That was heroic and brave and human and whatnot. And we will remember her, won’t we? ’Cause the pack remembers. Wanna make her proud? Live what she lived for. “Protect those who cannot protect themselves.” I know you’ll do that.

To be a human that runs with the wolves, you have to be the best. And you are The Best. So go out there! Keep being “sarcastic.” Grow smart. Be confident. Be spooky. Solve puzzles. Save Beacon Hills. Oh! and by the way, learn to hold a gun for cripes sake! They need you. All of you. More than you know.

“The strength of the wolf is the pack and the strength of the pack is the wolf…” Yup! I referenced Mowgli! Can’t blame me!(learned that from ya!(Inappropriate lines at inappropriate places!))

PS: No one gets left behind. That is always the plan.

Love, A fellow human.

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scotianostra · 2 years

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Alexander Leslie, the Earl of Leven died April 4th 1661.

Leslie’s birthdate is unknown, he was born circa 1580 illegitimate, the son of a Captain at Blair Castle and a mother sometimes described as “a wench in Rannoch" At an early age, Alexander was fostered out to the Campbells of Glenorchy. The fosterage bond was strong and still written about by Leslie into the 1640s. Indeed, it was this link that brought Leslie into the orbit of the House of Argyll as Lord Lorne, the son of the marquis of Argyll was also a Glenorchy fosterling. This relationship perhaps explains the presence of Campbells in the same regiments as Leslie in Sweden, most notably Captain Charles Campbell (Karl Kammel), whose portrait hangs to this day in the beautiful Skokloster Castle on Lake Mälaren.

Leslie was a soldier who plied his trade very well serving in the Dutch Army before being offered a captaincy in the Swedish Army by King Gustavus Adolphus and in 1622 he raised the Vermlands Regiment for the King. He spent 30 years in Sweden, rising to the rank of Field Marshal before retiring in 1638.

But he was not finished with soldiering, in 1639 he was made Lord General of the Army of the Covenant, approaching 60 he was no spring chicken in those days. He faced Charles I at Duns (this is the origin of the rhyme ‘There was a Crooked Man’ see below), where a price of £500 was put on his head. To me his greatest victory was when captured Edinburgh Castle with a thousand men, not losing a single soldier. He went on to march into England in 1640 and defeated the King’s soldiers at the Battle of Newburn. They held Newcastle, obtaining a stranglehold on London’s coal supply. Charles I had no choice but to agree to a truce, under which the Scottish army in northern England would be paid daily expenses, pending a final treaty of peace.

To raise the necessary funds Charles had to call the Long Parliament, thus setting in motion a process that would lead to the outbreak of the English Civil War two years later. In 1644 another victory came when he commanded combined armies of Scottish and English at what is said to be the largest battle fought on the British Isles. Leslie’s reputation, guile and discretion were frequently noted and he was much admired.

His army held Charles I as a prisoner for a time before handing the king to his Presbyterian allies unaware that these would soon lose power to the Independents. He stood his ground though occupying the north of England with his Scottish soldiers refusing to hand over control until all his men had been given the back pay they were due. The final instalment of this came in January 1647 after which Leven marched his army back across the Scottish border.

General Alexander retired after this and took no part in the battles that saw Cromwell’s army invade Scotland. During these times Cromwell had him arrested and held in the Tower of London for some time, until he was released on providing a bond of £20,000. He was again arrested in London but Christina, Queen of Sweden negotiated his release.

Sir Alexander Leslie, 1st Earl of Leven died in 1661 at Balgonie Castle, Fife in his late 70’s a good age at any time, let alone in the 17th century.

When you look back at all of our Military men through the centuries Alexander Leslie is certainly a man who can stand proud with them all, he’s often overlooked due to the circumstances surrounding the wars of the Three Kingdoms and the way Charles I was executed after Leslie handed him over to the English.

Edit, sorry forgot to add the poem……..

There was a Crooked Man.

The content of "There was a crooked man” poem have a basis in history. The origin of this poem originates from the English Stuart history of King Charles 1. The crooked man is reputed to be the Scottish General Sir Alexander Leslie. The General signed a Covenant securing religious and political freedom for Scotland. The 'crooked stile’ referred to in “There was a crooked man” being the border between England and Scotland. 'They all lived together in a little crooked house’ refers to the fact that the English and Scots had at last come to an agreement. The words reflect the times when there was great animosity between the English and the Scots. The word crooked is pronounced as 'crookED’ the emphasis being placed upon the 'ED’ in the word. This was common in olde England and many references can be found in this type of pronunciation in the works of Shakespeare.

“They all lived together in a little crooked house” refers to the fact that the English and Scots had at last come to an agreement, despite the continuing great animosity between the two peoples, who nonetheless had to live with each other due to their common border.

The great recoinage around 1696 led to sixpence coins that were made of very thin silver and were easily bent, becoming “crooked”.

There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile, He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile. He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse. And they all lived together in a little crooked house.

#Scotland #scottish #soldier #covenanter #genera #history

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sourwulf · 3 years

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so remember when the guy at the school was holding a gun to stiles' head and scott's dad saved him? can u do something similar but this time he saves u in the same way during the whole deadpool thing? thnx

༄ word count — 1.5k

፨ characters — stiles stilinski

☓ tw — guns, blood, death

⊹ cw — violence

✎ masterlist

─

you were currently in the girl’s locker room putting your stuff in your locker after track practice. you’d stayed a little longer to get an extra couple of miles in, and now the sun was setting, making the school dark inside.

you were standing in the shower under the hot water, letting it run over your tight and sore muscles when it suddenly went cold, making you quickly rinse your hair before tying a towel around your body, drying yourself off, and getting dressed. you pulled your hair out of the towel that was covering you a moment ago and brushed it out.

you knew scott wouldn’t be happy with you being alone — what, with all the dead pool stuff going on. you were the only human on the list, and you were worth significantly less than everyone else — seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. everyone else was over a million, but not you.

none of you knew why you were even on the list in the first place. everyone else was a werewolf, banshee, or some other kind of creature. maybe it was simply because you were friends with them, or maybe because you had information that no one wanted to get out.

either way, your friends didn’t want you getting hurt. and since you didn’t have the same abilities and powers everyone else did, you were told to always be with someone who could protect you.

and the person you were paired up with was stiles. you two weren’t super close when everything started, as you’d only been friends for a couple of weeks. but sleeping over at each others’ houses every night and spending your free time together caused you two to bond, and now you were like two peas in a pod.

but you’d finally managed to get some alone time, and you’d never been so thankful to be alone. you enjoyed spending time with stiles, but you also really liked having some time to yourself outside of class.

but when you started hearing footsteps outside the locker room, you looked over to the door. you took a few steps toward it and they stopped before retreating and going the other way. you figured it was probably just a janitor, so you turned back to go to your locker.

you stopped in your tracks, though, when you almost walked into a taller man who wasn’t there before.

you jumped backward and he just smirked at you.

“this is the girls’ locker room,” you said nervously.

“oh, i know.” you looked down to see a gun in his hand and gulped, realizing that being alone in the school probably wasn’t the best idea. it was an old revolver, one with a hammer you have to pull back to shoot. “i just figured almost eight hundred thousand dollars was worth a trip into the wrong locker room.”

he raised his weapon to point at your stomach and your eyes went wide.

“wait, you don’t have to do this. i-i’m not supernatural, i’m just a regular person. you’d just be killing a random girl.”

“the list is supernatural creatures. and you’re on it. why else would you be on it if you’re not?”

“i don’t know! i’m trying to figure it out. i swear, i’m not a werewolf, i’m not a banshee, kitsune, anything.”

you could tell he thought about it for a second. “i don’t believe you.”

“why would i lie?” he looked down at his gun then back at you. “okay good point.”

“fine. i won’t shoot you. if you tell me where your friends are.”

you sighed. “they’re in the cafeteria.” he perked up a bit. “or the library. or, actually, they may be in the gym. or they may not be here at all.”

his expression changed to that of anger, and he pointed his gun directly at your forehead, only a couple of inches from your skin.

“i’m gonna count to three, and then i’m gonna shoot you.”

you scoffed nervously. “you don’t scare me.”

he pulled back the hammer, the barrel rotating. his index finger landed on the trigger and you could feel your heart pounding.

“one.”

so many thoughts raced through your mind. you recognized that you were about to die, the thought making you want to vomit. you had so many things you wanted to say to so many people that you’d never get the chance to say. you wanted to help your friends find out who the benefactor was.

“two.”

and you realized you couldn’t. time seemed to slow down and you took a deep, shaky breath, closed your eyes, and let a tear fall.

then, suddenly, a loud bang. but you didn’t go down. instead, you felt liquid splatter on your face, and you flinched so hard your legs almost gave out. you opened your eyes to see the man in front of you with a hole in his forehead, and he collapsed.

you sputtered, blood droplets shooting through the air. you finally let yourself breathe, looking up to see stiles, an expression coated with just as much shock as yours.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, your voice cracking.

“lydia. she-she told me to come here.” he walked over to you and gripped your shoulders. “are you okay?”

you quickly nodded. “i’m not dead, so yeah. i’m good.”

he walked you over to the sink and pulled his jacket off, wetting the fabric and wiping your face. he didn’t speak, and you just stared at him until he was almost done.

“stiles.” he finally made eye contact with you, the look of anxiety still lace on his face. “are you okay?”

“yeah, of course,” he said unconvincingly.

“you just shot someone.” you looked over at the body and the pool of blood next to it. “you can’t possibly be okay.”

“i’d have rather shot someone than lost you.” you wanted to smirk at how cheesy that sounded, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“where’d you get the gun?”

“it’s my dad’s. he keeps it in his nightstand.”

“we should call him so he doesn’t get framed for murder.” he nodded, scrambling to pull his phone out. “wait, stiles.” you reached up and gripped his hands. he looked at you. “you can talk to me. i can imagine shooting someone in the head doesn’t just roll off the shoulders very easy.”

“we can talk about it later,” he responded softly. “i have to call my dad.”

you nodded, letting him dial his number.

—

someone shook you awake, your eyes shooting open. you looked around, still in the familiar sheriff’s office. you were laying on the couch by the windows, and you must’ve fallen asleep.

you’d spent a good hour answering questions with stiles, and it was well after midnight now. you looked to your side to see stiles, who was squatting next to you.

“you ready to go?” he whispered.

“what time is it?”

“almost three.”

you nodded, swinging your feet onto the floor and stretching. you followed stiles out to his jeep after saying goodnight to his dad.

sitting in the front seats, he didn’t turn on the ignition. you turned your body to face him and just waited for him to say what he was thinking about.

“no.”

you raised your eyebrows. “no? no what?”

he shook his head. “you asked me if i’m okay. i’m not. i’m not okay. when you were asleep and i was waiting for my dad to tell us we could go, i just... i let myself think about it. i... i took someone’s life tonight. i shot someone in the head. i have someone’s blood on my hands. and, i would do the same thing over if i had to because i had to save you, but...” you reached over and rubbed his upper back with his hand. “i just can’t stop replaying me pulling the trigger in my head.”

“i know. i can imagine. but you didn’t really have a choice.”

he nodded. “i know.”

“he could’ve killed all of us if he was still alive. he wanted to know where you guys were. he could’ve killed scott, lydia, malia, any of you. what you did... it saved a lot of lives. maybe... if you try to think about it like that, it won’t be as hard to live with it.” he nodded again. “i mean this life... it’s not easy. we’re always under attack, trying not to die. it takes a toll. i mean, shit, i had a gun to my head tonight. because i’m worth almost a million dollars to someone that we don’t even know. i almost died because someone values money more than life. you defended me, stiles. you saved my life. you should at least be proud of that.”

“i am. i’m glad i was there. i just wish i could’ve done that without killing someone.”

“unfortunately that’s not always an option. tonight it wasn’t. he was gonna kill even more if he wasn’t killed.”

“i know.”

you weren’t sure what to say. you’d never dealt with this kind of situation before. so you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his temple, seemingly comforting him.

“wanna go back to my place?” you asked, yawning. “my mom is home.”

he nodded, and without another word, turned the key in the ignition, heading towards your house.

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scribeoffate · 2 years

Note

50 ("I can't"), any Scott-related duo, if you please

Behind the cut mostly for length. No real content waring beyond canon typical violence and angst. I uhm. Couldn't choose one duo? So enjoy a four times Scott said "I can't" fic?

prompts if you would like a ficlet

“I can’t,” Scott sobs into his mom’s arms. “I can’t keep doing this.” She strokes his back as he cries himself out.

“You have to.”

The words are like daggers, worse than daggers in his gut. Made all the more painful by the truth in her words. She lifts his head with both hands, cups his face. Brushes a tear away with her thumb.

“I’m proud of you.”

The dagger twists.

She brushes his hair out of his face and places a kiss to forehead.

“I’m proud of you, no matter what happens. But you’re the only one who can unite the packs this way. You’re the best hope against Monroe. But we’re all here for you.”

Scott sniffs and straightens his shoulders. He’s survived more than one dagger to the gut, metaphorical or otherwise. And she’s right.

- “I can’t,” Scott sighs.

Derek crosses his arms. “You mean won’t.”

“No. I mean I can’t agree to those terms because I already promised Alpha Myers that I would hunt with him on the next full moon. I can’t be in two paces at once. Cora’s alpha is going to have to wait.”

“Family connection notwithstanding?”

“Family connection goes both ways, right? Her patience while I secure another alliance benefits all of his.”

Derek’s face softens into a smile. “I was right, you know.”

“About what?”

“You really are good at this.”

Scott rubs his face. “Yeah. Sure. So Cora’s alpha next month then?”

“I can’t.” Scott’s throat is thick. Lydia squeezes his hand.

“You shouldn’t have to,” she murmurs. “No one should.”

He’s carrying the letter Dr. Deaton had helped him compose. It’s the feelings all squeezed into his guts spilled onto a page.

“Just be honest,” Deaton had said.

“At least his family knew he was a werewolf, this time.”

It’s not really easier, but Scott doesn’t say that as Lydia rings the doorbell. He barely registers the mother’s stricken look as he murmurs his condolences and the news about her son.

It doesn’t feel right to say he died a hero. He had. Her son had saved twelve others, including six children being experimented on by the real monsters in this conflict.

He can’t endure her silent tears. But he does. It’s the least he deserves. Lydia never leaves his side.

- “I can’t,” Scott fidgets with the tie around his neck.

Stiles steps in and ties it with surprising skill for a man that looks half put together at any given time in rumpled t-shirts and stained jeans.

Stiles is wearing a suit today, too. Though his tie is covered in little gumdrops and Scott though he noticed little sunflowers on his socks.

“You can. And you will.”

Scott swallows. “I don’t deserve…”

Stiles shuts Scott up with a kiss. His lips tingle as Stiles pulls away.

“You do. You deserve this and a thousand times more. Now. We are marching onto that stage listening to everyone talk about how freaking awesome you are and accepting your award. Got it?”

“Uhmmm.” Scott doesn’t have time to think before Stiles is pushing him forward. Toward the roars of an appreciative crowd.

“Let yourself have this,” Stiles whispers, taking his hand. “You deserve everything.”

#teen wolf #scott mccall #melissa mccall #derek hale #stiles stilinksi #sciles #very sciles in the last part #hopefully the thread is clear #this could probably be made into a real fic one day #i do that sometimes #thank you for the prompt

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usermischief · 3 years

Text

♞Pairing: Steo ♞Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken ♞Warnings: mentions of non-consensual drug use ♞Words: 2571 ♞ Writing Prompt: “I’m addicted and at this point, I don’t think anything could make me stop.” ♞ AO3

———-

for @jimmy12427

———-

Stiles blinks his eyes open, groaning quietly as the too-bright white light bears down on him. Light recognizes even through the fog curling around his brain. Hospital. He’s lying in a fucking hospital bed. What the— that doesn’t make any sense. The last thing he remembers was the party. He remembers Theo asking him to dance. He remembers… he remembers… Stiles closes his eyes again, pressing the balls of his hands to his eyes. His head hurts. Actually, his whole fucking body hurts.

What happened?

He doesn’t remember getting up, and he especially doesn’t remember dancing with Theo. He just remembers sitting on the couch next to Theo for most of the evening. It was nice. It was fun. He’s had the best time in what feels like forever. How did that night go so wrong? He doesn’t understand.

“Kiddo?”

Lowering his arms, Stiles opens his eyes again to find the blurry figure of his father bending over him. He blinks multiple times, waiting until his vision focuses, and pushes himself into a seating position. His muscles ache with every single movement. “What… what happened?” The expression on his dad’s face makes him nervous. So does the beeping of the machine monitoring his vital signs. That’s not really how he expected to wake up the day after Josh’s birthday party. Not even in the slightest. He swallows dryly.

His dad sits down on the edge of the mattress. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

That shouldn’t be so hard, right? He’s been with Theo the whole time. Wait. Stiles glances around the room. But aside from his father, the room is empty. There’s nobody else. Theo… Theo wouldn’t have left him, right? “Where’s Theo?” Stiles asks, furrowing his brows.

“Talking to the police.”

Stiles shakes his head, something he almost immediately regrets. His headache gets a thousand times worse, and he squeezes his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. “Why,” he whispers, swallowing again, “why’s he talking to the police?” Great, now he feels sick as well. No quick movements. None at all.

His dad places a hand on his. “We just want to figure out what happened last night.”

“Why am I here?” Hospitals make him feel anxious ever since his mother died here.

Gently, his dad squeezes his hand. “You came in with what seemed to be an overdose.”

“An overdose?” Stiles makes the mistake of moving too quickly. He takes another breath, feeling bile rise in his throat. Oh god. Oh god. Stiles swallows and closes his eyes. This is fine. It’s fine. He’s not going to throw up. “I didn’t…” He takes another breath. “I didn’t take any drugs.” He would never take drugs. He doesn’t even drink alcohol, hasn’t since Lydia’s sixteenth birthday party and the punch disaster; and it’s not as if he drank a lot before that. It’s just not something he wants to mess with, not after seeing what it did to his dad.

The door opens with a quiet click, and Theo pokes his head in. “You’re awake.” His smile is soft as he slips into the room. He’s carrying three cups, two coffee cups, and one that’s probably filled with water judging by the straw and the fact that his father just told him he overdosed on drugs he didn’t take.

“Thank you.” His dad takes one of the steaming cups of coffee. “Sugar?”

Theo shakes his head, smiling apologetically.

“Of course not.”

Although Stiles isn’t entirely sure his stomach is up for it, he carefully sips on the straw, shuddering when the cold water hits his tongue. He swallows, grimacing a little, then places the cup on the empty nightstand. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure.” Theo sits down on the empty chair next to the bed. “Everything was fine, but when we wanted to get in the pool, you suddenly… acted like you were completely wasted. You slurred your words and could barely walk on your own.” Staring at something Stiles can’t see, Theo puts his cup against his bottom lip. For a few seconds, he doesn’t say a word. Then he swallows and looks back at Stiles. “I’m glad you're okay.”

“I don’t understand. There wasn’t even alcohol at that party.” Not that they know of, at least. Since Josh is only three months sober now, he asked everyone not to bring alcohol to the party. Most people didn’t. Of course, but there still might have been someone who did. But even if someone did bring alcohol, Stiles didn’t drink it — and he certainly didn’t take anything.

His dad taps a finger against the cup. “Was Stiles alone at any time after he acted weird?”

“No.” Theo shakes his head vehemently. “I already told Jordan. Tracy got some water and Corey dialed 9-1-1. Josh, Hayden, and I made sure Stiles was okay. We didn’t leave his side for a second.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Stiles’ stomach turns for entirely different reasons. It’s obvious what his dad is talking about, and with the way, Theo described his behavior… Stiles bites his bottom lip and pulls his legs to his chest.

“Hey.” Theo moves from the chair to the mattress, shifting around until Stiles is curled against him, head tucked underneath his chin. “You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

----------

Stiles isn’t entirely sure what time it is. He’s been in and out of sleep for a few hours, tried to eat something that he threw about twenty minutes later. Luckily, Stiles is allowed to shower. Something Theo has to help him with because he’s not particularly stable on his legs. Stiles is relieved his dad isn’t here to see him like this. The last thing he needs is him worrying even more than he already does.

They’re watching a movie — Theo is running his fingers through Stiles’ hair — when the door opens again. Stiles looks up, hoping that he’s finally getting the results of his tox screen. But it’s not a doctor entering the room.

It’s Scott.

“What are you doing here?” Theo stiffens next to him and pauses the movie. Despite knowing that Stiles left Scott for him, he’s still wary around him. Maybe it has something to do with them growing up together, well, more or less, and Stiles was usually finding himself smack in the middle between Theo and Scott. From the beginning, they couldn’t stand each other, but it was Scott who held a gun to Stiles’ head. So Stiles chose Theo and turned his back on years and years of friendship.

Stiles intertwines his fingers with Theo’s, more to calm him than to make a point, and Theo almost immediately relaxes.

Scott closes the door behind him, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. “I am allowed to visit him.”

Theo scoffs. “Allowed? Maybe. Wanted? Definitely not.”

“Babe.” Stiles squeezes his hand in warning. The last thing he wants is some sort of a fight right now. He’s still tired and on edge. He’s still afraid of what the result of the tox screen is going to tell him. All that time he doesn’t remember… the fact that someone drugged him to do something — maybe, potentially. It’s hard to tell. Perhaps they only did it to fuck with him. Perhaps they did it— Stiles shakes his head and curls against Theo, who wraps his arms tightly around him and kisses the top of his head.

“You’re stressing him out,” Theo says, and Stiles is pretty sure he’s glaring at Scott over the top of his head.

“He wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you and your friends.”

Stiles closes his eyes. These two cannot get through a meeting without being at each other’s throats. Scott blames Theo for ‘losing’ Stiles — as if he’s some kind of possession to be had in the first place — and Theo’s jealousy doesn’t really know any bounds. They hardly get into fights about it because Stiles knows how to calm him down. Most of the time. Scott, however, is a sore spot. It’s hard to blame him, but Stiles would still prefer if Theo were the bigger person.

Because he’s not, and he most likely won’t be anytime soon. “Careful who you’re blaming, McCall.”

Scott huffs. “Who else would he have gotten the drugs from?”

Opening his eyes, Stiles raises his head to look at Scott. “What?”

“The drugs.” Scott folds his arms over his chest. “You can lie to your dad, but I know you got them from Josh.”

Theo shifts next to him. “You wanna run that by me again?” Stiles isn’t the only one he’s protective of. Maybe Theo doesn’t always show it — sometimes he most definitely tries to hide it — but he cares about his little group of friends and especially Corey. He’s more the tough love kinda guy, but that doesn’t mean Theo wouldn’t fight whoever looks at his friends the wrong way. Scott’s comment is sure to set him off. But if Theo ends up punching Scott in the face, he’s going to be kicked out of the hospital, and Stiles really doesn’t want to be alone here.

Swallowing his own anger down, Stiles tightens his grip on Theo’s hand. “Josh doesn’t use anymore.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “Not that this is any of your business.” All he wants is this to end somewhat peacefully, but Scott and Theo are constantly clashing, and it’s just not fucking helping anybody right now. Nothing happened, and Stiles can already feel his heartbeat picking up.

“Where did you get the drugs then?”

Stiles furrows his brows. “I didn’t take any drugs.”

For a moment, Scott is silent. He studies them like a piece of art he doesn’t understand. “You used to say you’re curious how it feels.”

Theo scoffs. “That doesn’t mean he took anything.”

Again, Scott isn’t answering immediately. The silence hangs heavy above Stiles’ head. So does the accusation. They have known each other since fifth grade, and Stiles can tell what’s going through Scott’s mind. The unspoken ‘you changed’, and Scott believing that it’s drugs that made Stiles walk away from him. “What do you wanna hear?” Stiles asks, now holding onto Theo in an attempt to keep his own rage in check. “That I’m addicted and that at this point I don’t think anything could make me stop?” He scoffs and shakes his head. “Drugs have nothing to do with this decision.” Stiles swallows around the lump in his throat. No. No. He’s not going to cry. He moved on. This doesn’t affect him any longer. “You put a gun to my head. You told me that I couldn’t have you in my life if I started dating Theo. So I chose the person who did not force me to make a decision between my best friend and the guy I love.” Which is surprising, if he’s perfectly honest. Theo hates Scott, and he’s not missing an opportunity to mention how much he hates him. Yet, not once in all those years they were friends did Theo ask him to stop being friends with him — and he definitely didn’t do it when they started.

Theo stiffens next to him, but it takes Scott’s dumbfounded expression to make Stiles realize what he said. Oh. Donning out that he loves Theo to throw it in Scott’s face is probably not the best romantic way to say those three magic words.

Shit.

“Love,” Scott echoes eventually.

Stiles swallows then straightens. “You wanna blame that on drugs too?” Drugs he’s not taking, at least not willingly.

“I think it’s time for you to leave, McCall.” Theo squeezes Stiles’ hand tightly. “Stiles needs rest.” Well, that’s not untrue. A couple more hours of sleep would certainly do no harm.

A quick knock on the door startles all three of them. Scott steps aside only a second before the door opens and Tamara enters the room, followed by Stiles’ dad wearing his uniform. “Look at you, little Mischief,” Tamara says, either ignoring or oblivious to the tension in the room, “you got some color back in your cheeks.” Her smile is soft, and Stiles instantly feels calmer despite the clipboard in her hands. Even back when Tamara treated his mother, she somehow always managed to radiate a calmness that reached even Stiles. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Stiles admits, pushing himself into a more seated position, “and I got a headache, but other than that—” he glances from Tamara to his dad and Scott and back again, deciding that he’s going to keep his nausea to himself for now “—I’m feeling okay.”

Theo brushes his thumb over the back of Stiles’ hand.

“That’s good to know.” Tamara nods after a brief look at her chart. “We have the results of your tox screen.”

Stiles’s stomach contorts, and he shifts closer to Theo. Theo is comfort. Theo means safe. He needs that right now. Even though he knows nothing happened to him, well, nothing else, the thought of someone getting this close— Stiles closes his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose. He’s not going to throw up. He is not.

“I’m afraid your boyfriend’s suspicion is correct.” She taps a finger against her clipboard, pinching her brows together. “We found a high amount of Rohypnol in your blood.” Tamara pauses, studying Stiles’ face. “I assume you are aware of what that is.”

Stiles nods quickly, again, breathing deep in through his nose and out through his mouth. He does it again. And again. Someone put shit in his drink. Stiles sucks in a breath. No. Breathe. He needs to breathe calmly. Very calmly. He’s okay now. He’s fine.

Theo wraps an arm around him, pulling him even closer. “You’re safe,” he whispers, lips brushing against his temple. “Nobody’s going to hurt you ever again. Not as long as I can help it.”

Nodding slowly, Stiles hides his face in his hands.

The mattress moves, and his dad ruffles his hair gently. “We’ll figure out who did this.”

“And they’re gonna pay.”

“Theodore…”

“Sorry… Sir.”

Stiles snorts out a laugh. Only Theo would promise to take the law into his own hands right in front of the sheriff. “Idiot,” Stiles mumbles into his hands.

Theo hums. “I love you too.” Although it’s the first time Theo has told him that, the words sound familiar in his voice; like a lullaby, he’s listened to his whole life.

Stiles loves it. He loves him. So damn much.

“Good,” his dad says, squeezing the back of Stiles’ neck, “that means he’s your problem whenever I’m not around, and half of yours when I am around.”

“Hey!” Stiles glares at his dad.

Tamara laughs, hugging the clipboard to her chest. A moment later, her smile softens again. “We would like to keep you here until tomorrow, just in case.” For some reason, he remembers how she always gave him candy when his mom wasn’t looking. As much as he hates the hospital in general, not everything here was bad. “You’re going to bet just fine.” Nodding at his dad, Tamara leaves the room.

And it’s only then that Stiles realizes Scott must’ve left the room at some point. It stings. A lot. They’ve been friends for a long time, best friends even, but Stiles will not let anybody dictate who he can and can’t date.

Theo kisses his temple.

Stiles smiles. Yeah, he’s going to be just fine.

#steo #steo fanfic #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #teen wolf #theo x stiles #*tv:teen wolf #*w:complete #*s:steo

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florenceandthemachine · 3 years

Text

hear your heartbeat

happy birthday to the incomparable @elisela!!! just for you, please enjoy a good fake-dating au with plenty of idiotic and family members abound.

12.5k - on Ao3

—————

“I’m telling you, Scotty. New York has been good to me. Maybe we should just renounce California and stay here for the summer.”

“Don’t joke about that, dude.”

Stiles laughed as he shouldered his phone, taking in the city air as he strolled along the streets of Manhattan.

Needless to say, Manhattan was far from home—while the city certainly was his vibe, Stiles was no stranger to tamping down the champagne tastes that clashed with his tapwater budget. The little shitbox apartment he got through NYU’s housing program was almost a thirty minute train ride from school, but Stiles figured that when he was more or less trapped on campus for nearly fifty hours a week, he could justify spending his breaks wandering the streets of Manhattan and really taking in the city.

On today’s agenda, Stiles was looking forward to wandering around a farmers market that literally stretched on for city blocks. There were fruits and vegetables literally as far as the eye could see, spices and roots and mysterious tubers of all shapes and size, but Stiles didn’t give a flying fuck about the food—his real interest were the vendors and the shoppers.

He had learned early on that open air markets like this were perfect meeting grounds for mythical beasts of all shapes and sizes, so, what better palace for him to do some… field work, so to speak?

There were nymphs who had full bouquets of beautiful flowers that lived suspiciously long in their vases as long as you complimented the blooms on a regular basis. Dryads who sold the most delicious fruit he had ever tasted, even if they charged six bucks for a pear.

Stiles had learned early on to avoid the fae—basically, any stand that sold crystal or metalcraft. His first time at the market, he had somehow wound up spending nearly four hundred dollars on quartz; the moment the money had left his hand, the stall had all but vanished in front of him.

“The people are good here. They’re fast. Blunt. Sarcastic. My kind of people.”

“Uh huh.”

Scott liked to call their whole situation lucky.

When Stiles applied to NYU’s doctorate program, he expected rounds and rounds of interviews, lists of deadlines he needed to memorize, and some less-than-subtle digs at his proposed field of study (which was fair, honestly—he knew that criminology and mythology rarely mixed).

What he didn’t expect was Scott, though, the bro of all bros. When Stiles told him he was applying to NYU, Scott had cheered him on, helped him prepare, and then immediately applied to different veterinary positions through the state.

(Scott was golden, obviously—he had years of training, letters of recommendation from everyone he had ever met, and him being a werewolf basically made him the animal whisperer.)

At the end of the day, Stiles got to pursue his passion thanks to a hodgepodge of grants at NYU, and Scott was awarded a fellowship in veterinary medicine through the Bronx Zoo. What kind of weird twist of luck would let the best friends wind up together across the country like that?

So, yeah, Scott called it luck.

Stiles called it karmic retribution for their supremely fucked-up years at Beacon Hills High, but even he could admit that ‘luck’ sounded nicer... and if Stiles was being honest, ‘luck’ was definitely the best way to classify his meeting Derek Hale.

Derek Hale was smart, he was sarcastic, and he could go toe-to-toe with Stiles over completely obscure things for literal hours. He was a first-year professor at NYU, who had the tiny office right next to the broom closet Stiles had managed to shove PHD desk into, and he was probably the only other person in the program that took mythology seriously (meaning he was the only person who didn’t make Stiles want to put his head through the wall).

He was also hot as fuck, but that was beside the point. Stiles had a little bit of a massive crush, but that was also beside the point.

They had built up a fast friendship based on a series of arguments about the Necronomicon, of all things, and Stiles loved the thought of being friends with someone who didn’t know him as the weird kid in high school who knew way too much about ritual sacrifice and circumcision.

He had evened out a lot through undergrad. He was still awkward, sure, but he was awkward with a refillable prescription for Adderall and some sort of brain-to-mouth filter.

(Honestly, the fact that Stiles had managed to avoid making a single joke about the werewolf who was stuck teaching Mythology 101 really did speak volumes to his newfound maturity.)

Speaking of Derek, though…

“Stiles! Hey, Stiles!”

Stiles almost jumped a foot in the air as he heard his name called, doing a spectacular near-drop-mid-air-catch of his phone as he regained his footing, turning on the spot to see a taller woman with jet black hair waving him over.

She was… okay, she was gorgeous—dark hair, smooth skin, someone who looked like she just stepped out of one of the windows on Fifth Avenue—but Stiles was decently distracted, because standing beside her was Derek Hale, the object of his extremely private affection for the past few months. Who, for whatever reason, was standing there looking like he wanted the sidewalk to open up and swallow him whole.

“Scotty, I’ll see you tonight, yeah? I gotta go.”

Stiles pocketed his phone as he cautiously made his way over to the pair—trio, he corrected, because there was another woman with them, looking incredibly more invested in the conversation now that another party was joining them.

He hiked his canvas a bit higher up as he smiled, trying to remember where he had seen the two before… students, maybe, but if that were the case, they would know Derek, not Stiles. They weren’t faculty members, he was sure of that. Donors to the program, maybe?

Well, if they were donors, Stiles sincerely hoped that Derek would have tried harder to wear literally any expression other than his current ‘bitter and miserable’.

And if they were donors, why were they so fucking happy to see him?

“I’m Laura. This is Cora.”

The taller of the two women extended her hand confidently as Stiles got within arms reach, and he instinctively reached out to take it, Cora following suit. “Derek has told us all about you. I have to say, I figured there was at least a ten percent chance you were made up, but… here you are!”

“Here I am!” Stiles was officially lost, but he kept his smile up, cheeks pinking up a little bit as he turned back to Derek. “You’ve been talking about me?” he asked, his voice on the line between flattered and teasing, nudging Derek playfully as he tilted his head.

“Stiles, I—“

“Of course he has! Derek’s a private guy, sure, but you can’t be surprised he told us about his new—“

“Laura—”

“Lord, Derek, calm down. You already had your big bisexual awakening, I’m allowed to be excited to meet your first boyfriend.” Laura shot back, her glare rivaling Derek’s absolute best ‘listen to teacher’ look, and Stiles could see the muscle in his jaw start to twitch. He probably would have done something, but… he was basically short circuiting, brain trying to keep up with whatever the fuck Laura had said, because Derek now had his arm around Stiles’ waist.

Derek had a big bisexual awakening?

And a boyfriend, apparently?

How had Stiles missed that??

“Stiles, these are my sisters, Laura and Cora Hale.”

Okay, great, they were Derek’s sisters. Stiles didn’t even know that Derek had sisters, which was a little sad if he thought about it.

Thankfully, he didn’t have long to think about it, because Derek—

“This is Stiles, my… my boyfriend. Now stop bombarding him. Give him half a fucking second before you go a thousand miles an hour.”

Oh—oh God. Stiles was the boyfriend.

He had seriously missed something, then—he didn’t think he had confessed his feelings for Derek anytime recently, or he probably would have died from embarrassment. Scott was really good at hiding his phone when he was drinking, which ruled that entire scenario out. Stiles could be forgetful at times, sure, but he thought he would remember if he had managed to score himself a boyfriend.

He looked up at Derek, trying to ignore the sudden burn of contact where their bodies were pressed together, but his brain was extremely focused the moment that he caught the look on Derek’s face, there and gone in a flash. He felt the hand squeeze at his waist, and the message was clear enough.

Please.

Ah, well. Stiles was always good at bullshitting, and this was no exception.

“No, no, Der, it’s fine! It’s good to meet you both, sorry, I wasn’t even expecting to see Derek until… uh, later, let alone meet anyone new,” Stiles said, his voice 100% betraying his nerves as it picked up an octave.

Laura’s voice was much more evenly toned, even if it was a little teasing. “Oh? You two have big plans tonight? We aren’t interrupting anything, are we?” she said with a grin, giving the distinct impression that even if they were interrupting, she and her sister wouldn’t be leaving until they were good and ready. Stiles felt his mind kick into overdrive, waving the question aside.

“Oh, nothing like that. We were going to meet up with my friend Scott for dinner, introducing the boyfriend to the best friend, you know how it is,” he continued, hoping his little chuckle wasn’t too terribly fake as he reached up to pat the lapels of Derek’s jacket, letting his fingers linger a little too long on Derek’s chest as he nodded.

He hoped that she knew how it was. Hell, Stiles didn’t even know how it was. He hadn’t exactly been rolling in romance since moving across the country.

“Well, if you say so,” Laura mused, raising a perfect brow, head tilted to the side. “You look like you’re about to pass out, Stiles. You alright?”

And, okay, Stiles knew enough to know what that meant. It meant that her super-sonic ears could hear his heart trying to break through his ribs with a staccato beat, typically a tell-tale sign that someone was lying, but… maybe he could work that to his advantage. He swallowed, voice a little tight as he laughed, waving the concern away.

“Sorry, I just wasn't… planning on meeting the family today,” Stiles said, probably the most truthful thing he had ever said. “Usually I’d try to prepare a little more, you know, make sure I’m wearing something nice and avoid putting my entire foot in my mouth. Maybe just a toe or two,” he said, relaxing minutely as Cora snorted from her position near Laura’s elbow.

Okay, so self depreciation was a good way to avoid suspicion with all the Hales. Got it.

“Well, if you both have plans, I’ll make this quick,” Laura said, her voice deceptively charming as she sidled up next to Stiles, though he certainly wasn’t going to complain about the way Derek’s hand tightened around his waist. “The semester is up soon, what are your plans this summer? Never mind, move them back. We’re having a family reunion the week after finals, and everyone is dying to meet baby brother Derek’s new boo after all the stories he’s told.”

…stories?

He looked up to Derek again, who was now blushing up to the tips of his ears, which—okay, cute—but which told him absolutely nothing and offered him exactly zero defense.

“Actually, I already have a flight booked as soon as my spring contract is up. Heading back to Beacon Hills for a few days, and—“

“Wait, did Derek already invite you?” Laura asked, her expression pleasantly surprised, and Stiles was speechless for a half second before Derek stepped in.

“No, I didn’t invite him because I’m not even going, Laura. Besides, he has his own plans with his own family,” he said, and Stiles blinked as he tried to keep up. “And what do you mean, they’re excited to meet him? I was very clear that the further I can keep him away from you and Mom, the better.”

Laura only rose a brow as she turned back to Cora, who took a beat before looking up from her phone, her expression halfway guilty as she clutched the device. “I uh—I may have just sent a picture of you two to the family group chat.”

Stiles choked on a laugh as Derek gasped—actually gasped—and pulled his phone from his pocket, making the mistake of releasing Stiles’ shoulder to unlock the device, looking absolutely scandalized as he glared at Cora.

It wasn’t long before Stiles had a similar look on his face, though, as Laura took advantage of his free arm, linking her own with his as she started to walk. “Alright, Stiles, here’s the deal.”

“Cora, you little—hey! Laura, get back here with my boyfriend!”

“Calm down little brother, the adults are talking.”

“He’s younger than I am!”

“So, Stiles, like I was saying,” Laura started, oblivious or ignorant to the way Stiles' mind had absolutely reeled when Derek had called him his boyfriend for the second time. “Derek hasn’t been home for more than a day visit since he moved out to this dump, and no one has raised a stink about it in years. This year, though, is… important,” she started, and Stiles nodded idly as he mentally ran through the calendar in his head.

The semester was over in just over a week, with finals crammed into three days after that, and then—oh, the full moon.

No, Stiles corrected himself, the blue moon. The first blue moon in May in probably… thirty years, if he had to guess. He nodded up to Laura as that clicked into place, a flicker of curiosity crossing over her face as she continued talking.

“We won’t take up that much of your time—it’s only like two events, I promise, and I also promise Derek will personally take care of whatever flight changes you have to make so you can still get some time with your family. After all, it’s not your fault my bonehead brother tried to exclude you until now.”

“I’m not a bonehead!” Derek said, his tone of voice just exasperated enough that Stiles sighed, carefully extracting himself from Laura’s grasp as they slowed to a stop near the curb of Fifth Avenue, the noise from the farmers market blending in with the sound of traffic as he turned back to Derek.

“Alright, hang on, hold up,” Stiles started, his tone firm enough to stop the three wolves in their tracks, Derek and Laura wearing matching expressions of surprise as they stopped in their tracks—even Cora was peeking over her phone, clearly interested, and Stiles couldn’t blame them. It had probably been a long time since either of them had been stopped by a human.

“Laura, Derek is not a bonehead. He’s smart, and he’s sweet, and he’s very kind, and it’s okay that he’s a little more private. Yeah, he’s also a stubborn asshole, but… well, that’s one of the reasons I like him so much,” Stiles said, the first genuine smile in the entire conversation gracing his face as he looked at Derek again. “But you know your brother. Did you really think that catching him off guard across the country in person was going to be the best way to convince him to visit?”

He was fine taking their silence as an answer, honestly.

“Now, Derek, that being said, I… if you are comfortable with it, I can rearrange my plans and come down with you. If you’re not comfortable with that, that’s okay too. Meeting the family—at least, the rest of the family—is a very big step,” he continued, his words very pointed.

(Yes, Derek, meeting the family would be a very big step for someone you weren’t even dating, please pick up on the subliminal messaging here.)

“But even if you’re not comfortable with me being there, I think you should still go down. I’ll get to spend plenty of time with my dad, you shouldn’t have to be all alone up here while I’m gone.”

Moving to smooth over the lapels on Derek’s jacket again, Stiles only barely tampered down a noise of surprise as Derek intercepted his hands, pleasantly shocked by how easily Derek’s warm, smooth fingers slipped between his own lanky digits.

Stiles felt his cheeks pinks up as he cleared his throat, doing his best to act normal, because he was… well, he wasn’t lying. He had absolutely thought about Derek being alone here in New York while Stiles was gone, but that was more in the sense that Stiles would miss him.

He just didn’t know that Derek might be missing some family, too.

Besides, he may not have known that much about the intricacies of a normal, family pack, but Stiles knew enough to know that a big event like this would probably be good for Derek, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Even if Derek was going to reject his offer and go down alone.

…because Derek was going to reject him.

Derek was going to reject him, right?

Stiles had been fairly sure of that when he offered, but judging by the way Derek couldn’t meet his eyes after something as simple as holding hands, Stiles might have just fucked himself over. Derek opened and closed his mouth twice before he finally let out a huff of air and looked up, doing a remarkably good impression of a guilty animal as he looked at Stiles.

“…you’re sure you don’t mind?”

Fuck.

“Derek, I wouldn’t have offered if I minded,” Stiles said, and that much was at least true—but before he could say anything else, Laura was squealing in his ear, wrapping both of them up in a hug so tight Stiles almost had to remind her that he was human, but he was able to breathe again as the car next to the curb chirped.

“Thank God, Stiles, thank you for getting through to him! Oh, Nana is gonna flip out when she hears who’s coming—Derek, you know you’ve always been her favorite—Stiles, do you have any dietary restrictions? Derek, send me his number, and—no, Cora, you are not driving us back to the airport, move your ass—“

Stiles looked up to Derek, his expression somewhere between bemused and fearful as Laura rambled on, but… well, the apologetic look that Derek had on his face wasn’t much reassurance.

“—and Stiles, you’re going to love Beacon Hills. Bye boys! See you in two weeks!”

Stiles was left, partially shellshocked as Derek’s hand slipped from his own, the need for the facade no longer essential as the shiny silver rental car pulled into traffic.

“… Derek, since when the fuck are you from Beacon Hills?”

—————

“Scotty, stop laughing, this isn’t funny.”

“Dude, are you kidding me? This is hilarious.”

Stiles groaned as he shoved another slice of pizza into his mouth, ignoring the burning sensation that spread across his tongue as he tried to pack as much melted cheese as he could into one bite.

Scott’s apartment had been their go-to for the entire time he and Stiles had been in the city—not because it was huge and glamorous, not by any means, but Scott’s shoebox had a door between the bathroom and the living room, and therefore it was the best place for bro-time by default.

Stiles had loudly complained about the entire situation when he and Derek showed up on Scott’s stoop, firmly planting himself in his favorite of Scott’s chairs—the ‘old man’ recliner next to Scott’s little television, the game on screen forgotten as he recalled their harrowed tale.

“Stiles, if you weren’t comfortable with it, why even… okay, no, don’t you dare answer me until you swallow,” Derek snapped, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he swallowed a few times, sticking his tongue out at Derek once his mouth was empty.

“Good. Thank you for pretending to be an adult. Now, why did you even offer if it wasn’t something you were comfortable with.”

Because it was supposed to just be a gesture, Derek. Because I didn’t realize you would take it as a serious offer, Derek. Because you were supposed to say no, Derek.

… because I didn’t want you to be alone, Derek.

Honestly, as surprised as Stiles was that Derek took him up on his poorly-timed moment of goodness, he was even more surprised that after Laura drove off, when he numbly asked if Derek wanted to come over to Scott’s for some pizza, Derek actually said yes.

Derek Hale was being social. Alert the media.

(Well… maybe ‘social’ was stretching it a bit—Stiles didn’t know if it was a territory thing or what, but Derek had turned hilariously, awkwardly stiff the moment he stepped inside Scott’s apartment.)

“I offered because I’m nice, dick, but don’t even think that you can turn this on me. Derek, they knew my name. They knew what I looked like. And yeah, I mean, I’m a complete catch and all—oh fuck off, Scotty—but what in the actual, literal fuck?”

Stiles didn’t think it was possible, but somehow Derek got even more tense, shoulders tightening up toward his ears as he looked down. It took a moment before he answered, but Stiles knew by then that Derek usually had to… wind himself up to talk about some things.

“My mother lives on the opposite end of the country, and even then, she still managed to set up twenty four blind dates for me last year. Twenty four, Stiles. That’s basically one every other week. Do you have any idea how much small talk that is? And how much I hate small talk?”

Yes, Stiles thought, to both of those questions. He would never admit this out loud, of course, but thinking about one of the most intensely private people that he knew stuck at some shitty little coffee shop trying to chat with some random female on behalf of his mother was hilarious to a degree he couldn’t fathom.

It definitely wasn’t a redirection of his own… personal feelings that may or may not be directed at Derek. Not at all. Nope.

“So, around the time the spring semester started, when my mother let slide that she had passed along my number to yet another perfectly eligible barista, or something, I panicked and told her I had a boyfriend. And then she asked for a photo, and the most recent one on my phone was that selfie you sent miming your own death in the stacks, so…”

“Oh fuck, Derek,” Stiles started, downing the last of his beer. “Your big bisexual awakening wasn’t just you trying to get out of your mom setting you up on dates, right?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, ass,” Derek said, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “The two events were completely separate.”

Stiles laughed at the thought, but even then, his mind was reeling. If this wasn’t a recent discovery, how in the fuck did Stiles miss that for so long?

“Well, you’re lucky Scotty and I had a flight booked anyway. I won’t let you face them alone, not when you have a picture perfect boyfriend to show off now—what role should I take on? Doting, love struck fool? Rebel without a care? Some sad forlorn loser who… okay, no, that one is too close to home.”

Scott stood up and laughed as Derek glared at Stiles again, but it didn’t take a genius to see the tiny smile on his face, or the way his shoulders eased as he leaned back into the couch.

“Alright, this is getting too intense a conversation while the game is on. Want another beer, Stiles? You, Derek?”

Stiles made a vaguely affirming noise as he wove his hand in Scott’s direction, eyes drawn back to Derek yet again as the other wolf politely declined, his own attention affixed to the television as the game picked back up.

Derek was… not a particularly expressive person, Stiles knew, and part of that was because Derek had what Stiles affectionately called ‘resting grumpy face’; at least, he did privately, because the one time he said it out loud Derek had thrown the Encyclopaedia of Demomorgons at his head.

So, to the outsider looking in, Derek might have just seemed uninterested in the game; but Stiles had been watching Derek work for the better part of a semester, and he knew perfectly well how to tell when Derek’s resting grumpy face formed an actual frown. Which it did. Because apparently, the Mets had personally offended him.

“I’m sorry, are you seriously glaring at the Mets? While they’re winning?”

Derek leveled Stiles with the most unimpressed glare he could as Scott laughed from his kitchen, walking back into the living room with two beers. “God, I hope he was. It would be nice to have someone with taste in the apartment for once.”

“Scotty!” Stiles gasped, clutching his heart as Scott handed him a beer, extending the claw on his thumb to pop the top off before he handed the bottle over. “The Mets are a treasure, okay? If God lived in New York, she’d be a Mets fan. I have suffered much for my Mets in my lifetime, and they—woah, Derek, you okay?”

Stiles’ charming cliches would have to wait, because when he looked over to Derek, his humor dropped immediately. Derek had gone white as a sheet, jaw slack as he stared at the beer in Stiles’ hand.

He stared back and forth between Scott and Derek, trying to figure what the hell had just happened; it wasn’t until he watched Scott pop the top off of his own beer, looking between the two of them, did Stiles put two and two together.

“Derek, you… you had to know that Scott was a were, right? Like, you had to. He—Scotty doesn’t do subtle.”

“Me?! Stiles, you called me a wet dog for like a month after I fell into the Hudson.”

Derek let out a sort of choked noise as he shut his mouth, coming back into himself as a bit of pink dusted his pale cheeks, hands moving in front of his face. “Of—of course I knew, but—you knew?!”

“Dude, I’m studying mythical lore and criminology. I’m the one who taught this furry fucker how to control himself. Of course I knew, I... oh my god. You didn’t know that I knew—uh, that I know.”

Matching looks of realization dawned on Scott and Stiles’ face as Stiles stood up, putting the beer down on the coffee table. He moved next to Derek as he sat down on the couch, keeping his movement slow, reaching out to pat Derek’s leg like he was a frail old lady.

“Derek, I know.”

After what felt like an age and a half, Derek melted into the couch, a huge sigh leaving his lips as all the tension in his body bled out like a string had been cut, burying his head in his hands.

“We’ve had arguments about wolves in pop culture. I’ve offered to help you out with your coursework every full moon for, like, the entire semester. Dude, you had to know that I knew, there’s no way I didn’t—Derek!” Stiles felt his giddy laughter bubble over as Derek shot him a red-eyed glare through his fingers, his scowl somehow less intimidating now that everything was out in the open.

Okay, Derek wasn’t just a wolf, he was an alpha. That was… interesting.

“God, you two really are perfect fake boyfriends. Two halves of a whole idiot. Derek, are you sure you don’t want a beer? Or maybe something stronger, if you have to deal with Stiles?” Scott said easily, laughing as Stiles immediately protested, though the way Stiles eased himself next to Derek wasn’t exactly subtle, either.

—————

Scott may have been joking, but by the time finals had come and gone, Stiles had accepted the fact that he would have to forgo booze and opt for a mainline of caffeine to keep up with Derek. How one person remained so meticulously organized, Stiles would never know—but in the amount of time it took for Stiles to wrap up his grant work for the semester, Derek had given four exams, proctored three more, cleaned out his office, and shared the updated flight itinerary with Stiles.

“Wait, wait, hang on,” Stiles had said, tripping over an empty box in his tiny office as Derek handed him his updated boarding pass. “Why do we have to change our flights? Scott and I are already booked, you can probably just join us, right?”

Derek rose a perfectly sculpted brow as he tapped the ticket again, shaking his head. “Hey, I promised you’d spend as few days as possible with my family, and I intend to keep that promise. The sooner we get in, the sooner we start that clock, the sooner you get to spend the rest your time with your dad.”

Stiles blinked as he looked down to the itinerary, eyes scanning over the earlier time—and it was non-stop too. That would be a bit killer on the legs, but Stiles could handle that, maybe he could take some time to sleep or pester Derek for...

“Uh, Derek... this ticket is for first class.”

“I know, Stiles, I booked it.”

“Dude, there’s a reason Scott and I booked an economy ticket with a layover in Bismarck. There’s no way I can pay you back for this.”

If looks could kill, Stiles would be... maybe not dead, but at least set on fire. Derek sighed, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders as he rolled his eyes.

“You’re not paying me back, dumbass. You’re already doing a ton for me with this little... charade, the least I can do is make sure your frail human body—“

“Hey!”

”—is comfortable in a lie flat seat.”

“Look, I appreciate that, but I’m not leaving Scott alone on his flight in coach just because of our... fake... whatever.”

Stiles’ voice trailed off in curiosity as Derek sighed, his cheeks pink as he pulled the paper out of Stiles’ hand, pointing to the second half of the sheet—where MCCALL, SCOTT had been printed in big, bold letters, that Stiles had completely ignored.

“... you got Scott a ticket too?”

“Of course I did. He’s your best friend, I wasn’t going to ask you to leave him behind just for me. Besides, who do you think I got your information from to book the flight?” Derek said dryly, as though his deadpan delivery could cancel out the ruddy color to his cheeks, or the way that Stiles’ stomach flip flopped when the reality of that sunk in.

It was nice that Derek acknowledged the importance of their friendship, in the way that tugged at the little space right beneath his sternum, but something about the way Derek so quickly dismissed himself was... concerning.

Stiles couldn’t help but play that little bit of their conversation over in his head as he packed, as he hopped on the train, as he met up with Scott and Derek in security.

Scott, bless his heart, was absolutely elated—his excitement was almost tangible as they dropped off luggage, walked through security, and stood around at the boarding gate. Derek had to smack the both of them to get them to stand up when first class was called to board, and Stiles idly wondered if Derek regretted associating himself with them when he and Scott managed to trip in sync as they went down the jetway.

Derek and Stiles were seated together, of course, and once Stiles got over the novelty of not having a middle seat on a plane, he liked to imagine he fit right in—easing back into the seat, enjoying the comfort of the little blanket he had been given, grinning at the flight attendant as she checked in with them.

(Scott was one row ahead and across the aisle, close enough that Stiles could lean forward and smack him if he wanted to... but the moment Stiles saw his seat mate, a pretty woman with dark hair and impeccable eyeliner, he knew his best bro would be on a different planet for the entirety of the flight.)

His grin slipped a little bit, though, as he thought back to the conversation surrounding the tickets, and he looked up to Derek as he settled in a bit further.

“So, we never went over what role I should be taking on.”

“Stiles, just be yourself. You’re funny enough, and you generally mean well, they’ll love who you are.”

Yeah… who he was. Well, who he was was someone who was going to be dangerously invested in a fake relationship that would probably end terribly for him, so that was fun. He sighed as he settled into the seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he debated on where to go from here.

No time like a non stop plane ride to have a potentially awkward conversation, right?

“Dude, we��re friends, right?”

“We’re fake boyfriends, don’t call me dude.”

Derek’s tone was teasing as he flipped through his SkyMall, a small smile on his face, and Stiles felt a little bit of the tension ease out of his shoulders as he buckled in.

“First of all, I have called many boyfriends ‘dude’ before,” Stiles started, ignoring Derek’s snort of laughter, “and I’m being serious. We... we are friends, right?”

Be it his words or his awkward energy, Derek looked up, surprise on his face as he closed the magazine and stowed it away as the plane bumped down the taxiway.

“Of course we are, Stiles. You’re like... the only person I talk to at work outside of teaching, that’s light years ahead of most of New York as a whole.”

“I mean, I’m glad to hear, I just...” Stiles chewed on his lip as he turned in his seat, weirdly soothed by the roar of the engines as the takeoff roll started. “You know about my dad, and about my school, and about Scott, and those are basically the three important things in my life,” he started, letting out a sigh as Derek just stared at him blankly.

“It’s fine that you’re a private person, I can respect that... seriously, I may not understand it, but I can respect it,” Stiles said, grinning as Derek shot him a look, lowering his voice again as he leaned over the divider between them. “But I didn’t know that you were from my hometown, too. Or that you had sisters, let alone other family. I should have asked, I guess, but... you know you can talk to me about things, yeah? Even after all this is over, you’ll always be Derek to me. Not just another Hale.”

Stiles’ was smiling as he gently bumped Derek’s shoulder with his own, watching the way different emotions warred over his face, biting back on the urge to babble on so he could give Derek the time he needed to respond.

“We’re... we are friends, Stiles. We are.” Derek insisted, looking down to his linked hands as the plane continued to rise. “Sometimes, I just... I’m not great about talking about myself.”

For a while, Stiles thought that was all he was going to get, and honestly, he was fine with it—it wasn’t until the fasten seatbelt sign chimed off and the flight attendants passed out little bottles of water that Derek spoke again, his voice low as he cleared his throat.

“My family is huge. Like, big enough that we need spreadsheets and flowcharts to organize family events like this. I know they love me, and I love them too, of course I do, but I made some really, really stupid decisions when I was younger… I know they forgave me for it, but...”

Derek sighed, taking a deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?”

No, Stiles didn’t know. He only had his dad and Scott growing up, but he nodded his head encouragingly as he took a sip of his water.

“I actually have four siblings. Mark is the oldest, and then Taylor, and I’m right between Laura and Cora. They’re betas, like my dad; my mom and I are both alphas, her mom, too…” Derek continued, and Stiles smiled as he settled into his seat.

By the time the flight landed, Stiles’ head was full to the brim with Hale family trivia, names, faces, teasing stories, and the warmth that had danced across Stiles’ chest for the past year or so had bloomed into a full-on fire.

Would it lead to his downfall? Probably.

But when he saw how Derek smiled when he remembered Mark’s graduating medical school, or heard the pride in his voice when he talked about Laura’s charity work, and the genuine joy he got to see when he heard another story about Derek’s childhood… well, that was all more than worth it.

—————

“I think you should kiss me.”

Stiles had to stop himself from laughing at the look that Derek shot him, doing his best to keep his body language casual as he leaned against the gas pump at a tiny station outside of Beacon Hills, though he knew his heart was going at about a million miles a minute.

“I—you—what?”

“Derek, I’m an affectionate dude, in case you couldn’t tell from all the hand holding. And if you’re going to freak out if I kiss your cheek, then you should freak out now, not when we’re in front of your family.”

Stiles knew full well his heart betrayed his confidence, but seeing Derek’s ears go pink as he dumped the armful of snacks Stiles had asked for into the back seat was a welcome sight—it was always nice to know that Derek’s cool and controlled exterior could be ruffled up once in a while.

Somewhere between the rental kiosk and the gas station, Stiles had decided that he was going to go all in on this. His little crush was already stuck right in the back of his throat and would be unlikely to dislodge any time soon, so he figured that indulging himself in the fake relationship Derek had set up for him… well, it wouldn’t do any good, but it was unlikely to make things worse for him than it already was.

It was a little weird being alone with Derek—Stiles didn’t realize it until now, but between meeting Derek’s sisters and meeting the rest of their family, this was the first time they had been alone together. They had other staff members at school, or strangers around the city, or Scott (who had politely declined a ride back to Beacon Hills with Derek and Stiles, choosing instead to split an Uber with his pretty new friend, Kira).

“You know, as far as first kisses go, usually they’re a little more romantic than just a demand. You’re supposed to woo me, Stiles,” Derek said, his sarcastic tone betrayed by his shy little smile as he pulled the nozzle out of his tank, closing the gas cap as Stiles gasped in mock offense.

“Hey, I said you should kiss me, not the other way around. Why should I have to be the one to woo?” Stiles started, sliding into the passenger’s seat as Derek followed suit. “After all, this relationship wouldn’t have even happened without your instigation, so why should I… uh… Der?”

Stiles’ voice trailed off as Derek’s hand sunk into the soft crook at the juncture of his neck, effectively cutting off his entire train of thought as Derek’s thumb pressed against the hollow of his jaw.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“O-Okay.”

For a minute, all Stiles could think of were those cheesy old rom-coms, where fireworks would go off, or bells would chime, but kissing Derek was nothing like that. It was the comfort of wrapping yourself in an electric blanket, instead of the shock of jumping into a frozen pond; the familiar buzz of goosebumps over his skin over a bolt of lightning. He felt a surprised little noise leave his chest as Derek’s tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue flicking out instinctively to drag along Derek’s bottom lip, hands coming up to rest against the wolves chest.

Stiles could feel his heart beating through every inch of his skin as the kiss broke, struggling to remind himself how to breathe as he opened his eyes again, his nose brushing against Derek’s as he let out a little huff of a laugh.

“Was that enough woo for you?” Derek asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, and Stiles smiled as he nodded his head, savoring the way that neither of them moved back. Derek’s hand was warm against the crook of his jaw, his own palm flat against Derek's chest, and it was natural, it was so nice, it was—

Fake. It was all fake.

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes as he gently leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, that mantra playing through his head as he pulled himself back. He buckled himself in easily as he took in a deep breath, his goofy grin still in place as he looked back up to Derek.

“See? Now you can honestly tell your mom we had our first kiss at a gas station and that it was magical and I totally rocked your world.”

“Is that what happened, though? I mean, if you wanted me to kiss you so badly, you should have just asked,” Derek said, the sarcasm thick in his voice as he started the car, and Stiles laughed as they pulled out of the lot, his hand finding Derek’s easily once again.

Their silence remained comfortable as they left the city skyline behind and basically blew through Beacon Hills, the trees inching closer to the road as they wound through the preserve.

Finishing off a bag of M&M’s, Stiles cleared his throat as he crumpled up the wrapper and chucked it in the back seat, sucking a little bit of melted chocolate off of his thumb. “So. Is this regular introducing-the-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves I’m looking at here, or is this introducing-the-fake-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves? You don’t have any weirdos in your family, do you? An ex-felon auntie? A cousin who doesn’t quite get personal space?”

Stiles grinned as Derek laughed, oddly comforted by the sound as Derek shook his head. “Nothing exciting. A weird uncle, I guess. Lots of cousins, you should basically abandon any idea of personal space as soon as we walk in, and plenty of human family, too—so you won’t be alone in that. As far as felons go, well… none of us have been caught?”

“Hey, game recognizes game, it doesn’t count if you don’t get caught. And I can work with a weird uncle.” Stiles laughed at the sheepish look that Derek shot his way, his fingers still happily wrapped up in Derek’s warm hands. He could almost feel it when they crossed over onto the Hale land, the huge, white house as much of a giveaway as the shrieks of joy that even Stiles could hear from the property.

“They’re gonna love you, you know?” Derek’s voice was soft as he pulled the rental into a long row of cars, nearly lining the road leading up to the house, and Stiles felt the snarky remark die on his tongue as Derek caught his eye, his expression somewhere between grateful and wistful as he turned the car off.

“Maybe, but…” Stiles sighed as he popped his door open, chewing over his next words carefully. “But if they do, it’s because they already love you.”

He took it as a personal victory when Derek turned away, his ears pink again, and Stiles couldn’t help but grin as he followed the werewolf up the path to his family home.

The Hale House was probably as huge and impressive as the Hale family itself from the outside, and Stiles did his best not to gape like a fool as Derek opened the door for him, his hand finding the small of Stiles’ back as they stepped into the house. Polished floors, huge, high windows, a grand staircase that was the definition of grand, and—

“Derek!”

—and another unfairly attractive Hale moving forward to greet them. Tall, broad, dark hair with just a splash of salt around the temples and the goatee, shining a million watt smile on Derek and Stiles as he wiped his hands on his probably-uncomfortably-tight jeans.

Jesus, was everyone in this family gorgeous? Stiles was going to get a complex.

He looked up as the stranger and Derek briefly hugged, watching the halfway-subtle way they scented one another, Mark’s head buried in Derek’s neck for a half moment before they pulled away. If Stiles strained his ear, he could have heard something along the lines of ‘be nice’ as Derek pulled back; if the situation weren’t so funny, Stiles probably would have blushed.

“Don’t listen to him, I’m always nice. I’m Mark, and you…” Mark started, his million watt smile back in place as his eyes dragged over Stiles’ body, “... you must be Stiles.” Stiles snorted as Mark pulled him into an easy hug, catching Stiles just a little off-guard as he was wrapped in another pair of arms.

Apparently Derek’s family was an affectionate bunch. Stiles didn’t know if it was a wolf thing or a Hale thing, but either way, it was good to know.

“Mark, uh, Seattle, right? You’re the surgeon?” Stiles asked, clearing his throat as the hug carried on just a bit too long, regaining some footing in the introduction as he pulled back. “Derek’s told me a lot about you.”

That was… mostly true, Derek had told him enough about Mark to thoroughly embarrass the older male, and Mark looked like he expected nothing less as he laughed, holding Stiles’ shoulders as he stood at arms length. “Yeah, I’m sure he did, but it’s probably all garbage. After all, how can you really describe a wonder like me in words, huh?”

He actually winked, and Stiles honestly couldn’t believe that this dude was for real.

“Der, nice job with this one. He’s cute. Kid, is my brother treating you well? Cause, you know, if Hale is your taste, you can do much better than—”

”Mark—“

“Oh, lighten up Der-bear, there isn’t enough Botox in the world to get rid of those scowl lines. It was a joke. Now come on, everyone’s out back.”

Stiles laughed again as Mark put Derek in an easy headlock, ruffling up his hair as he led them outside, immediately filing ‘Der-bear’ away for future use as they stepped out into the backyard.

The backyard, which was absolutely filled with Hales.

He felt his heart do a funny little lurch as he was hit with the sheer family of it all—all dark haired, all gorgeous, and for just a moment, he wanted to smack Derek upside the head. There were probably generations of Hales here; Derek had all this family, this built in support group, and he was just going to spend the summer holed up in New York?

“Alright, Siles, we’re gonna keep you in with the main family and keep you away from the cousins,” Mark started, artfully ignoring the way Derek was swatting at him. “Uncle Peter all but insisted that Mom come pick him up, so you’ll get to avoid them until later tonight, but who you really want to watch out for is—“

“Is that my grandbaby?!”

Mark stiffened as Derek perked up, and Stiles couldn’t help but snicker as a bony hand shot up, grabbing Mark by the scruff of his neck, pulling him off of Derek with a flourish that would probably seem overly dramatic if Stiles didn’t know just how much werewolf strength was packed behind it.

“Derek!”

“Hi, Nana.”

Stiles couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as Derek leaned in to wrap his arms around the older woman—she was a good foot shorter than he was, her movements loud, with light skinned with the same tell-tale black hair that the rest of the family had. What caught Stiles’ eye, though, was the way Derek scented her—it was the same way Mark scented him, a familial nudge that Stiles read easily as a sign of deference.

Whoever this Nana was, she was clearly the woman in charge here.

“You know, we’re all technically her grandbabies,” Mark started as he reappeared at Stiles’ shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck, his childish pout painfully obvious as he pointed his words. “But you wouldn’t know it with the blatant favoritism she shows for Derek!”

“Mark, don’t be such a baby,” Nana Hale said as she pulled back from Derek’s hug, patting his cheek affectionately. She raised a brow in a spectacularly unimpressed fashion as she turned to look at her eldest grandson, sighing in mock disappointment. “Not that I thought a career based off of liposuction and face lifts would have brought you some maturity.”

“That’s—I don’t just do—Nana!”

“Now, who do we have here? Derek, are you going to introduce me to your special friend?”

Ignoring Mark’s protests easily as she turned her attention, Stiles felt his heart pick up again, his eyes flicking to Derek as he beamed; Stiles wasn’t sure if he was happy to see Mark get smacked down, or if he was happy to introduce Stiles, but Stiles would have literally killed a man to see Derek smile that brightly on a regular basis.

“Nana, this is my boyfriend, Stiles Stilinski. Stiles, this is my grandmother, Ger—“

“Nana Hale will do just fine, thank you very much,” she interrupted, pulling a face that made Stiles grin—he could absolutely relate to someone who would rather set their birth name on fire than own up to it. “Now, come here, let me get a look at you.”

Stiles stepped forward and hesitated a half moment, not sure if he should try one last time for a handshake or wait for her to initiate a hug, but before he could make up his mind she had her hands clasped on his elbows, a grip like iron stopping him in his tracks.

“Scrawny little thing, aren’t you? We’ll take care of that, don’t you worry. It’s good to meet you, sweetheart, let’s get you some food.”

“It’s good to meet you too—and some food sounds great,” Stiles said with a laugh, ignoring the fact that he was still full of junk food as Nana Hale all but preened beside him. Her grip was gentle but unyielding as she dragged him to a table that was piled with food, giving a half wave to Laura and Cora, who were stationed beside a punch bowl the size of a fish tank as he kept himself a half step behind Nana.

Stiles wasn’t dumb, okay? He knew how to make nice with wolves, and more importantly, he knew how to be subtle.

(He didn’t like it, but he knew how to do it.)

“Uncle Derek! Get Uncle Derek!!”

Thankfully, the moment was over in a flash as Stiles heard a familiar name called out in a high pitched squeal, looking back out to the yard where a hoard of kids had just caught sight (or scent?) of Derek, immediately abandoning the rough-and-tumble games they seemed to be wrapped up in to run toward Derek as fast as their little legs could carry them.

Derek immediately tensed, a manic grin on his face as he prepared to run, body twitching as he caught himself before taking off. He sent a look Stiles’ way that was somehow both apologetic and asking remission, and Stiles sighed as he smiled.

“You better run, Uncle Derek. They’re gonna get you,” Stiles said mock-seriously, only barely keeping a straight face as Derek instead ran straight to the kids, making all sorts of comedic noises as they mobbed his legs.

Fuck, he was cute.

Stiles’ attention was pulled off of Derek as he felt eyes on him, subtly scanning the yard before he made eye contact with another adult in the family, who was very shirtless, and very sweaty, and very much walking toward them with a bright smile on his face.

Okay, Stiles was definitely getting a complex.

“You must be Stiles!” he exclaimed once he was closer to their little group, and Stiles had never been as thankful for a child as he was for the tiny body perched on top of the other males shoulders, because he was just about at his ‘hugging gorgeous people’ limit. He was still sweating, for fucks sake, but Stiles supposed that even a wolf got tired out when they had eight kids hanging from their body until Uncle Derek stepped in.

“I am, and…” Stiles was about to assume this was the firefighter sibling, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the kid on top of his shoulders smiled, and Stiles was absolutely smitten. “And who is this little guy?”

The distraction was apparently a welcome one, because shirtless dude’s smile grew even wider, reaching up to pat the kid on a mop of curly hair before he lifted him up and over, holding him at chest level. “This is Isaac. Isaac, can you say hi to Stiles? He’s your uncle Derek’s special friend.”

Stiles literally felt his heart melt as Isaac gave a shy little wave, looking up at him with big blue eyes. He couldn’t have been older than three or four, and Stiles smiled and waved back as Isaac was set down on the ground.

“You wanna go play with Uncle D?” Any hint of shyness was forgotten the moment the question was asked, taking off toward Derek as fast as his little legs could carry him, which… wasn’t very fast, but was very, very cute.

“They all yours?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over to Derek, who now had at least six kids hanging off of him. He smiled as the other male shivered, shaking his head quickly.

“God no, just the three. Erica and Boyd, and Isaac too, now that the adoption has been finalized. Those kids basically run the joint, Derek included—as long as you don’t mind the occasional toddler mobbing, you’ll fit in just fine.”

“Thanks, random shirtless man, I really hope so.”

Stiles grinned as Laura choked on a mouthful of punch, the weirdness of the situation apparently just now visible to her as she sputtered, punching her brother in the arm. “Oh god, Taylor, what is wrong with you! Go put on a shirt, you can’t just—you didn’t even introduce yourself, I swear—Stiles is a guest, you weirdo!”

They kept bickering back and forth as Taylor pulled an undershirt on over his head, the whining turning into background noise as he poured himself a glass of punch. He knew perfectly well what Laura was trying to say—Stiles is a human—and he was pretty sure he was mostly flattered by everyone trying so hard, but any coherent thought left his head as he took a bite of the ribs, watching Nana Hale grin out of the corner of his eyes as he groaned in delight.

“God, they really do have Derek wrapped around their pudgy fingers,” Cora mused, and Stiles nodded his head, swallowing. It was honestly hilarious to watch Derek try to manage all those kids by himself; they seemed determined to pile themselves onto his head and shoulders, and he could almost see Derek sweat, trying to make sure he didn’t drop anyone as Isaac managed to wriggle his way into Derek’s grip.

He tilted his head in consideration, taking a sip of his drink before he spoke up.

“Yeah, he always did strike me as that kind of Alpha.”

He couldn’t help but savor the way the conversation ground to a halt around him, Laura and Taylor both sucking in a deep breath as Mark shattered the glass he was holding. There probably was a better way to acknowledge that he was in on the secret, but as funny as it was watching Derek’s siblings tiptoe around the fact, he figured it was best to rip the bandaid off in one go.

Even if it meant he had the attention of the Hales closest to him in one second, flat, Nana’s burning red from where she stood with a plate piled high with food.

He probably should have been nervous, but as he looked back at Derek, he could tell it was the right choice—Derek was all smiles, waiting only a beat before he popped his fangs and playfully snapped at one of his little nieces, the air soon full of squealing laughter once again.

Keeping his gaze even, Stiles smiled in thanks as he took the plate of food Nana offered to him, watching as her eyes melted back into their darker, human color. She was staring at him like he was a particularly complex puzzle, and she wasn’t alone—Cora looked hilariously outraged that she didn’t realize sooner, and even Mark was looking over him with renewed interest as his hand healed.

“I knew you were a smart boy. He told you?”

Nana’s question was accusing, but not unkind, and Stiles shrugged it off easily as he popped a chip into his mouth.

“He didn’t have to. My best friend was bitten when we were both fifteen. He didn’t have… anything, no alpha, no pack, just me and my mad Googling skills, and we’ve had plenty of supernatural run-ins over the years. Derek didn’t tell me because he didn’t have to tell me—I’m not anything special, but I’d like to think I can spot a non-human from at least fifty feet. Maybe more on a good day.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Stiles jumped as he heard Derek’s voice from behind him, and it truly was a credit to his poise and sophistication that he only blushed a little as Derek’s arm snaked around his waist. His body was warm, far warmer than it had been ten minutes ago, and Derek’s breath came a little heavy as he kissed the back of Stiles’ head.

“You are definitely something special.”

“You—you absolute cheeseball, what is wrong with you—” Stiles managed to get out as he shoved at Derek’s shoulder, his entire face burning red as Laura and Cora both gagged. Any residual awkwardness melted away as Nana’s sharp laugh cut through the air, the sound putting him back at ease as he leaned back into Derek’s warmth.

Somewhere between the fortieth round of storytelling and the gathering moving back into the house, Stiles needed a breather. Derek’s family was huge, and loud, and honestly, Stiles loved it—but it wasn’t long before he felt an itch beneath his skin, his fingers buzzing against his thigh, the muscles in his jaw a little too tight.

Stiles had expected Derek to be pretty popular in the family—what he didn’t expect, though, was that he would be anything more than an introduction and the same polite questions that everyone gave the new boyfriend.

“Wait, no fucking way did the two of you take down a Kanima, Stiles, I’m calling bullshit right now—“

Derek’s siblings were great, but they were also the worst; the minute they found out that Stiles had his own supernatural background, they were pestering him for stories, demanding his opinion of things, getting more and more exasperated with his entire life the more he shared.

Stiles knew that his life was crazy, okay? He didn’t need the constant reminders or the slack-jawed shocked expressions to reinforce that fact.

“Jesus, we didn’t even know that there were any wendigos in the state, and you knew an entire family of them?”

The only stories he flat out refused to talk about were the… issues he had had with hunters through high school—this was a party, after all, and he didn’t want to be the one to bring the vibe down by talking about the one time an assassin held a gun to his head to try and draw Scott out.

Fun times.

“What do you mean, you just know a banshee? And set her up with a hellhound? Dude, who are you?!”

Kissing Derek had, oddly enough, only exasperated the situation. In less than a day, they had gotten better at trading little affections back and forth; but instead of helping Stiles calm down, they only increased that thrumming nerves that bounced around at the base of his skull.

Which sucked, honestly, because kissing Derek was… really, really nice.

Stiles waited until another cousin who’s name he would never remember caught Derek up in a conversation about another tradition he couldn’t follow before he squeezed Derek’s hand, taking the opportunity to stand up from his spot on the couch and slip away.

The Hale House was huge, and outside was no exception; Stiles soon found himself on the porch, a huge wraparound wooden structure with built-in benches that let you enjoy the kind of view that made Stiles remember why he loved home so much. He treated himself to a few pictures of the sunset over Beacon Canyon before he flopped himself down on a bench, rubbing at his neck.

“Stiles? Everything alright?”

He had half expected Derek to follow him out after a few moments—but to his surprise, it was Nana Hale that sat beside him, her cheeks still pink with laughter as she tucked a jet black flyaway behind an ear.

“Is—oh, no, it’s great! Just wanted to, uh, snap a few pictures of the view.”

Another half truth—he was full to bursting with those lately.

“I know that our family can be… a little overwhelming,” she said, her tone even as she rose a brow, keeping her gaze forward as her fingers drummed a pattern into her knee.

Stiles hummed in agreement, his own smile a touch more genuine as he looked over to her. “Maybe, but that’s not a bad thing. When I was growing up, I spent so much time wondering what it would be like, to have siblings, and cousins, and… well, it might be a lot, but it’s a lot of love, too. I’m really glad Derek has that kind of support.”

Nana’s fingers stilled against her knee as she turned to face Stiles, and for the first time, Stiles was really able to get a good look at her properly. He could understand why she was the matriarch of the family, and how she had kept that title so long; even if he hadn’t witnessed her taking Mark down less than four hours ago, there was a whole other kind of strength that she was showing here, radiating off of her in waves.

“He does. But he doesn’t just have us for love and support... or was I reading the way you look at him wrong?” Her tone was teasing as she rose her brow, and Stiles felt his cheeks pink up spectacularly as he coughed, his eyes flashing back to the window for only a moment before Nana patted his knee.

“Don’t worry, the house is completely soundproof. Those nosy little pups can’t hear a word we say. Now tell me, how long have you been in love with my grandson?”

Now fully, beautifully red, Stiles groaned as he hid his face in his hands, Nana’s laughter ringing strong and clear as she stood up and walked toward the railing. “Oh don’t be so dramatic, I have no intention of spoiling that surprise until you’re ready to really woo him with it. And you’d better woo him! You know as well as I do that he deserves the romancing.”

Her tone softened as she chuckled, trailing off with a sigh and a sort of wistful smile as she shook her head. “New York has been good to him. You have, too, I think. California was… a rough part in his life.”

Something in the way she phrased it got the investigative side of his brain thrumming, his curiosity piqued as he remembered what Derek said on the plane.

‘I know they forgave me, but… sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?’

The nosy part of him wanted to pry, to dig a little more, but his eyes flicked back to the window again, where Derek and all four of his siblings were doing a terrible job at acting like they weren't trying to stare him down.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

Apparently, that was the right answer—Nana’s face softened again as she smiled, nodding her head, beckoning Stiles into standing up. She put her hand in the crook of his elbow easily, steering them back toward the house in a way that allowed no room for compromise.

“You are going to be good for my Der-bear, I know it.”

“Oh, I mean, I hope so. Derek deserves that, and I definitely—“

“Just let him be good for you, too.”

She reached up and patted Stiles cheek as he stared at her, dumbfounded, automatically opening the door for her as she walked back into the house. His expression was mirrored in the matching expressions of slack-jawed shock from all five Hale siblings, all staring at Stiles as Nana started in on another family story that would be sure to embarrass Mark, or Laura, or anyone who wasn’t Derek.

He meant what he said, of course. Derek deserved someone who would be good for him.

Somehow, that was the problem here.

—————

“Stiles, you reek of nerves. All I can smell is nerves and bell peppers. It’s not a good smell. Are you going to tell me what you’re freaking out about, or what?”

Stiles jolted as Derek called him out so effortlessly, pulled out of the trance he had fallen into as he watched Derek work, pushing around some of the barbecue from the night prior with some fresh chopped veggies into a delightful spur of the moment stir fry.

Derek was also as dressed down as Stiles had ever seen him, in a light grey henley and a dark pair of jeans, and that was even more delightful than the stir fry.

“Wait, you—that’s just something you can do? Oh god, your entire family must have known how nervous I was yesterday, did they—“

“Stiles. Breathe.”

Right. Breathing. He could do that.

…. maybe.

The truth was, Stiles could honestly say that he was having a great time back in Beacon Hills.

Derek and his family were great, no lie, and fake relationship aside, the researcher in him was absolutely thriving seeing how a huge, well-established pack worked with one another. They were literally a well oiled machine, the personification of the old ‘it takes a village’ metaphor, and the only thing that amazed Stiles more than how well they worked together was how well they adapted to Stiles being there.

Of course, he thought a big part of that came from having the Alphas on his side—not just Derek, but Nana too.

(“I can’t believe she hugged you,” Laura had hissed after yet another glass of infused punch. “When she met my last boyfriend, she threw him off the porch.”

“Well, Stiles is a fragile little human,” Taylor had snorted, ignoring the way Stiles smacked his arm, “and Hank was a major, prolapsed asshole.”

“Well yeah, but that’s not the point!”)

As great as Derek and his family was though, getting to come home and surprise his dad early… well, there was no place on the planet he would rather be than wrapped in a signature Stilinski hug, the kind of hug where you held on just a little longer than you needed to so you can pretend you definitely weren’t crying.

He got to watch a game with his dad, he got to sleep in his old, lumpy-ass childhood bed, he got to make breakfast in his mom’s kitchen.

So yeah. Great time.

Or at least, it had been, until a text rolled through after he kissed his dad goodbye that morning.

der-bear: Do you want to come over for lunch? Nana has everyone out of the house, Mom and Uncle Peter showed up this morning and he’s already driving everyone crazy.

sent: sure man. want me to bring anything? :)

der-bear: Don’t worry about it. Besides, I figure we should talk before the bonfire anyway.

And just like that, something brought around a cloud to rain on Stiles’ parade.

“Is it about tonight?” Derek asked, and if Stiles’ hadn’t been so laser focused on his cooking technique (his arms, okay, he was staring at Derek’s arms) he probably would have missed the way Derek hesitated when he asked, like he was afraid of the answer.

He picked himself up off of the barstool at the island in their gigantic kitchen, leaning against the counter closer to Derek, reaching in to pluck a chunk of onion out of the pan, skillfully avoiding the swat from Derek’s wooden spoon. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you… You know we’re looking forward to having you with us, right?” Derek asked, spooning some of the food onto two separate plates, using his claws to rip two fresh chunks of bread off of a loaf. “But if you don’t… I mean, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be there if you don’t want to.”

Stiles frowned as he accepted one of the plates, pulling the smaller chunk of bread off of one of Derek’s claws, mulling his next words over. “As long as you want me there I’ll be there,” Stiles said slowly, because there really was no way to politely say that Stiles would rather throw himself into the sun before his mythical lore studying ass missed out on observing pack activity on a blue moon.

“Why would you think I didn’t want you there?” Derek asked, looking like he was offended at the very notion, sliding a fork to Stiles as he sat down at the countertop, that offended look only growing as Stiles snorted.

“I dunno, I thought you might have changed your mind about it. Dude, you sent me a ‘we should talk’ text. I’m no expert, but I know that nothing good follows a ‘we should talk’ text,” Stiles said around a mouth full of bread, but any degree of playful levity he had gone for was sapped out of his voice the moment he saw Derek look back down at his plate.

“That, uh. I do think we should talk, but not about that. Stiles, I...”

Ah, fuck. Derek’s ears were pink again, and for once, Stiles thought that was a bad thing.

Stiles did his best not to panic as he thought through things, wondering what he had fucked up, because he just knew he had fucked up a little something. Maybe he had come on a little too strong last night, maybe he had gotten too comfortable with his crush, maybe—

“I was thinking that maybe… we shouldn’t be faking this anymore.”

—or maybe, he had fucked up a whole lot of everything.

Stiles felt his heart sink through his shoes as he swallowed his bread, his appetite suddenly gone. He brushed his hands on his jeans, giving a few short nods, swallowing again as he pushed back from the table a little bit. He thought for a moment that he should argue against it, but Derek had a sad puppy expression splashed across his face, and Stiles wasn’t strong against that on a good day.

“Oh.”

He could feel Derek’s eyes tracking him as he started to move, standing up and starting an easy track around the kitchen, flexing his fingers before he rubbed his palm with his thumbs, an old habit he had thought he had kicked back when he graduated from Berkeley.

“I think, uh, maybe you should wait until you’re back in New York to tell your family?” Stiles started, missing the tiny smile on Derek’s face before it melted into a look of confusion. “You should tell them I broke up with you, not the other way around, I don’t mind being the bad guy,” he added, staring down at his hands.

“Wait, Stiles—“

“No, seriously, it’s fine,” Stiles interrupted, putting a smile back on his face, because he knew this was going to be coming at some point. Derek had made up their entire relationship, and Stiles had worked hard to remember that the reality of it was… that it wasn’t reality. He was the one with the inconvenient crush, he was the one who had gotten stupid. This was all on him, and taking the high road to bow out gracefully would be too.

Or, at least, it should have been. But Derek had abandoned his seat as well, halfway following Stiles in his trail around the kitchen, putting his arm out against a countertop to stop Stiles at a turn.

“I said I wanted to stop faking, Stiles.”

Hell, when had Derek gotten so close to him? Stiles blinked as he backed up against the counter, Derek’s arms closing him in, and suddenly he was getting an up close and personal look at Derek’s lips, and his eyes, and the way the blush was going back up his ears, and—

...why was Derek blushing?

“I never said anything about wanting you to leave.”

But why would Stiles be staying if… oh. Oh.

Realization dawned on Stiles’ face as Derek blushed and looked down, moving his hands a little bit closer against the counter, and Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine as he felt Derek’s thumb settle right along his hip. He had to clear his throat before he could speak, swallowing down the hope that was threatening to bubble over, chewing on his lip as he put one hand on Derek’s chest, the other gently tipping his head back to look him in the eye.

“Dude, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you gotta spell it out, I’ve had a crush on you for like forever and if I’m mis-reading this—”

“I told you. I’m your boyfriend, don’t call me dude.”

Stiles laughed again, elation making him feel light and giddy, finally breaking eye contact with Derek as he felt his own blush burn through the back of his neck.

“Stay, Stiles. You belong here. With me.”

Rather than even try to form a coherent response, Stiles dropped one of his hands, cheeks still a ruddy color as he looped a finger into one of the belt loops on Derek’s designer jeans, pulling him just that much closer.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Oh, thank God—"

—————

Yeah, Stiles thought hours later, still feeling the warmth of Derek’s smile against his lips as howls sounded off around the Hale House, moonlight swirling around him from the vantage point he had on the porch.

This was exactly where he belonged.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #hale family #teen wolf fic #fake dating #everyone lives #two halves of a whole idiot #this is actually my first sterek fic ever lmao HOW WILD

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achubbydumpling · 3 years

Text

(Get Your Kicks On) Route 66

Rating: Mature Words: 1901 Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Public stuffing, Roadtrip, Chubby Stiles

Summary: Stiles and Derek enjoy their first vacation together. Stiles suggests they take on various food challenges to save money while on the road. However, Derek's werewolf metabolism deals with the excess food a lot better than Siles' strictly human one.

(I tried a bit of a different approach to a stuffing, a bit more focused on the way it makes Stiles feel. Hope you enjoy it!)

“It winds from Chicago to LA More than two thousand miles all the way”

“Oh, my God. This is such a good idea! We’ll save so much money.” Stiles was waving the menu around while he talked and almost knocked over his glass of water.

“Right, Derek?”

“Right. Awesome,” was his clipped answer. Derek looked like his usual grumpy self, but with his hand on Stiles’ thigh and with how close he was sitting, Stiles didn’t worry about the slightly pained expression on his face. He’d soften up once the breakfast crowd died down a bit and there weren’t this many people around.

Read on AO3

“We just have to finish those three pancakes and then the food is free! Even if we can’t finish it’s 15 dollars to try and we can take the leftovers on the road.”

Stiles didn’t want to throw in the towel before the challenge had even begun, but it was probably for the best to not go into this completely blind. While waiting for their server to return Stiles looked up eating competitions online.

They did have 90 minutes in total to finish all the food, but Stiles hypothesized that eating as quickly as possible would be the best strategy. Derek argued that they should take advantage of all the time they were given. Now that Derek could focus on something else than his surroundings his hunched over posture slowly relaxed.

The banter eventually escalated into a bet that whoever finished first got to choose a punishment for the loser. Stiles was almost certain he would lose out against the werewolf metabolism, but he didn’t think Derek would go for a particularly harsh punishment. He would have never agreed to this with Scott because he always chose the most embarrassing punishments.

This was his and Derek’s very first vacation on their own after finally sorting out their mutual pining. The road trip had been planned for close to year. However, the exact date had always been pushed back by another monster of the week ruining their plans. Instead of making a round trip they had flown up to Chicago and rented a car instead of taking the Jeep like Stiles had initially planned. The old girl probably wouldn’t have made it anyway.

Another consequence of pushing their vacation back was the weather. Instead of driving in late spring or early summer, when the heat would have still been bearable, it was August—the hottest month of the year.

The AC could barely keep up and all the people that had just eaten breakfast here had heated the small diner up even more. Stiles poured himself another glass of ice water.

He was looking forward to when they would get far enough south to where diners started serving real sweet tea. Boyd had shared a few stories with the pack about the summers he had spent on his uncle’s farm in Georgia. How the only thing that could chase the sweltering heat away for a moment was the ice-cold sweet tea his auntie always kept in the fridge.

When their food finally arrived at the table the server could barely fit both plates on the small table for two. Each pancake was twelve inches in diameter, the stack was piled high with maple syrup, banana, and whipped cream.

“Wow, these are huge!” Derek stifled a laugh.

“There was a picture in the menu.” The server cleared his throat to get their attention before they could dig in.

“When this,” he held a tomato shaped kitchen timer up, “goes off and you have not finished the challenge you will be—” he sighed and made an unenthusiastic buzzer noise “—disqualified.”

“Thanks, pal.” Stiles grinned back. The server glared at him for a second before he wound up the timer and left the table.

“Man, that guy is in a bad mood.” Stiles tried joking around with Derek before they got serious about this challenge.

“You haven’t worked in hospitality before.”

“And you have?” He took another sip of water and waved the glass around threatening to spill all over.

“Summer job.” Derek shrugged and finally picked up his fork.

“Wait, you can’t just drop something like that and not tell me more details.”

“If you don’t want to pay for this mountain of food you better dig in.”

Stiles whined Derek’s name annoyed, but also picked up his fork.

“On three,” Stiles said, but Derek was already chewing the first bite.

“Cheater,” Stiles mumbled around a mouthful of pancake.

These were a lot flatter than the standard-sized pancakes. Probably deflated by their own weight, but the mixture of flour, sugar and oil tasted great all the same. Stiles hadn’t had banana pancakes before, but he welcomed the fruity sweetness in contrast with the straight up sugar of the rest of the meal.

Stiles surprised himself when he managed to keep up with Derek all through the first pancake. When he got started on that second one, he even pulled ahead for a bit, but he hit a wall as soon as half of it was gone. It felt like his stomach had suddenly closed down shop and he felt almost nauseous when he thought of eating even more sugar.

However, when Derek pulled ahead and finished off his second pancake without any trouble Stiles doubled down. He knew it was a loosing battle, but he wasn’t about to give up this easily. Yet, as willing as his mind was, his body failed him. With about three quarters of the last pancake left his determination flagged.

The food weighed heavily in his stomach. The vague nausea from eating way too much sugar curled up into his throat and had him sipping water to try and wash it down, which only made him feel even fuller.

Stiles could picture exactly what he looked like right now. He’d done this in front of his bedroom mirror. His stomach rounding out, like half a beach ball taped to his front. The curve of a belly looking out of place on his thin frame.

He had always loved to eat, not only for the sake of taste, but also because of how it made him feel. Sated. Heavy. Tethered down and not constantly in danger of floating away in his own mind. That moment when his thoughts finally ground to a halt and all he could do was to be overwhelmed by that feeling—almost on the wrong side of too much to handle.

However, he wasn’t at that point yet. This was more of a mental block. Unlike Derek, he didn't really have a sweet tooth. Stiles preferred salty, greasy substantial meals over dessert any day.

Stiles had been sat staring at his plate before Derek leaned against him to whisper, “You ok?”

Stiles groaned but picked up his fork again. Derek didn’t seem affected by the amount of food at all. Then again, the wolves always had to eat a lot just to keep their mass up. They leaned out quickly without enough food, preserving energy.

“Just taking a break.” Stiles could see Derek shifting in his seat, the wolf always craving closeness. They’d talked about this, whatever it was, after Derek had accidentally seen Stiles once afterwards. Stiles had tried his best to explain while still caught in that blissed out state. He didn’t know how but Derek had somehow understood.

Derek finally put that last bite in his mouth and then moved closer to Stiles. The entire side of his body was pressed up against Stiles. He was carefully draped over Stiles shoulders offering support, but not crowding him in. Stiles was still steeling himself for the next bite when Derek’s hand slipped under his shirt. Knuckles dragging against bare skin.

Stiles yelped and grabbed at Derek’s wrist. “What are you doing?” he whispered urgently.

“Helping,” Derek answered and furrowed his brows. Like always. Except they were in the middle of a restaurant and not locked in Stiles’ bedroom.

“Stop. Someone is going to see you,” he paused to search for the right word but then just flicked his eyes to where he was still holding Derek’s wrist.

“We’re not coming back here. You wanted to do the challenge.” Stiles wanted to whine and complain at Derek, but he was right. Stiles had suggested doing the food challenge. He’d honestly just thought about getting free food, only when they had already ordered, did he even think of this possibility.

“Plus,” Derek almost purred into Stiles’ ear, “winner gets to choose a punishment, right?”

Stiles’ “not really a punishment” died in his throat when Derek pulled him almost into his lap and his knuckles started digging into the roundest part of his stomach. They probably just looked like an overly affectionate couple, but that didn’t keep that searing hot shame from bubbling up. Stiles wanted to hide his burning face against Derek’s shoulder. He wanted to push Derek away. Stiles wanted to cram the rest of the pancake into his mouth to keep himself from thanking Derek out loud for getting his hands on his stuffed belly.

Derek hadn’t seemed interested in participating in Stiles’ peculiar activities but every time they had somehow ended up in that situation again, he had gotten more and more affectionate towards Stiles and his bloated middle.

“You’re gonna finish that, aren’t you?” Stiles shook his head, but he stabbed his fork into the pancake, nonetheless.

“Are you?” Derek asked again, a teasing edge to it. Stiles didn’t trust his voice and just nodded.

“Yes, look at yourself. The first chance you get to stuff yourself full of some food and you run headfirst into it.” Derek cupped his bloated stomach and lifted it up a bit.

“Look at that. All the food you stuffed in there making a nice little belly. Do you want to eat like this every day?” Stiles pushed another bite past his lips almost all whipped cream.

“Do you?” Derek prompted him. A whine caught in Stile’s throat, and he pushed it down with another forkful of food. He nodded and hummed agreeably.

“You’re just so greedy to be stuffed full.” Stiles was burning up but instead of reaching for his glass of water he gathered the last bits and pieces on his plate.

“You know what’s gonna happen if I let you eat like this every day?” Stiles was fast approaching the simple state of mind he was craving. He couldn’t decide whether to nod or shake his head. The motion of Derek’s hand on his stomach softened. Rubbing large circles into the stretched skin.

“You’re gonna get fat if you eat like this every day.” With that last mouthful Stiles had finished the challenge, but all he could think about was what Derek had just said.

“Feels so good,” Stiles said. Words slurred and a dopey smile on his face while he turned further into Derek’s body.

“Feels too good to stop, huh? Never had all that food just for free. That’s why you dragged me out here, off the highway. Not because you cared about what you’d eat, but because of how much. Is that right?”

“Yes,” Stiles whispered. “Every day.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’ve got four weeks on the road and me to take care of you.”

“Won't you get hip to this timely tip When you make that California trip Get your kicks on Route 66”

#Get Beached #Sterek #chubby!Stiles #cutting it really close with my self-imposed deadline

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amatchinwater · 2 years

Text

When Trust is Earned

Warnings: some angst

Ch 6/14 (Ch 5)

a/n: sorry this took an extra day, I'm still traumatized over Stranger Things

Lies of Omission (ao3)

---

Shit has gone to hell in a handbasket real fucking quick.

It was well into the night by the time Theo made it back with a very wounded Liam and Hayden. Watching the chimera walk through those doors, knowing that he was the one who saved them, Stiles couldn’t stop the smile if he wanted to. Then Scott, Malia, and Mason came back not five minutes after the couple had fallen asleep. Looking completely adorable, if you ask Stiles. Theo went around and gave everyone in the pack a hug, a huge weight seeming to lift off the True Alpha’s shoulder. Then it hit Stiles, he was about to be able to show affection to Theo without having to feel weird about it because everyone else had.

Like things couldn’t get any worse either, his father heeded his warning. Not to interrupt whoever it was taking the chimeras. Stiles just wasn’t expecting to be told that Parrish was the one who hulked out. At least they know who’s stealing the dead teenagers. He’s just no closer to figuring out why. The banshee was able to deduce where Jordan was bringing them. So that’s something.

Barely.

Stiles and Lydia are making zero progress finding the Nemeton on their own. You’d think a banshee would be able to find the bodies with no trouble at all. Or the chimera who was once possessed by a thousand year old fox demon the Nemeton itself trapped. But no, no such luck. They’ve been walking around the preserve for hours. Yeah, it’s only been a day, but being a chimera hasn’t done much in the way of Stiles wanting to be active.

“We should just head back to school,” Stiles sighs heavily. “We’re never gonna find it like this.” It’s hot. He’s annoyed. All Stiles really wants to do is go home and curl up in bed. Theoretically, he shouldn’t be exhausted now that he’s a chimera. But this is a kind of tiredness that he feels deep in his bones. His brain. A week of sleep sounds perfect.

“I don’t see why we just can’t tell Parrish,” the eye roll in the banshee’s voice is crystal clear.

“Because-” Stiles’ phone starts ringing in his pocket, “hang on.” Digging the device out, Theo’s smiling face pops up on the screen and the chimera blanches. It’s not just the other chimera, Stiles is curled up to his chest too. That was the night he was turned. When did Theo find the time to do that? How did Stiles not wake up? Whatever the case may be, it’s incredibly cute and warms the chimera’s heart. “It’s Theo,” Stiles informs the banshee.

“Put him on speaker,” she grins.

Stiles slides the green button over, “hey, Theo.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Stiles’ cheeks flare at the other chimera’s words. Why did he think putting Theo on speaker would be a good idea? Lydia’s grin widens until Theo continues, “I’ve got some bad news.”

“Theo, what’s going on?” The banshee asks.

“Stiles, your dad is here at the school. Another chimera died; a girl,” Theo tells them and Stiles curses under his breath. “And it only gets worse. Corey started spewing mercury from his mouth. They’re taking him to the hospital now. I’m in the truck waiting for Scott. Do you remember what I said the other day? About proving it to you?”

The chimera risks a side glance at Lydia, regretting it instantly when he sees her squint at him. “Yeah,” he mutters, not sure he wants the banshee to hear this. But he can’t find the words to tell her himself.

“Do you trust me?”

“You know I do.”

“Then mute yourself and stay on the phone,” Theo instructs. “I told you it’d only take a few choice words.”

Stiles scoffs, “I still don’t think he’ll believe you.” It’s his last attempt at keeping faith in Scott. But to be honest, it’s dwindling to nothing really quickly.

“Just trust me, Kitten,” Theo says again, apparently not caring that the banshee can hear him.

“Okay,” Stiles says, putting his phone on mute, flicking his gaze up to a very confused Lydia. “Lyds, you’re about to hear some bad shit. But I need you to understand that what Theo is about to say is only half of the truth. Okay? Please, Lydia, I need you to believe me.”

“I’m very confused,” the banshee admits, “but I will always trust you, Stiles. You know that.” Her smile warms him to his very soul.

He doesn’t get a chance to say anything back because Scott’s voice comes through the speaker, “hey, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“I-it can wait.”

“If something’s wrong, you should tell me,” the wolf counters. “We’ve all got to start talking to each other again.” Novel words coming from the Alpha.

The other chimera sighs, “this might not be the best place to start, Scott. It’s gonna change your mind about a lot of things.”

“Theo,” Scott sounds so soft. Trying to use his calming Alpha tone. Stiles tries not to gag. “You can talk to me.”

“Open the glove box,” the other chimera says. There’s some rustling on the other line. “It belonged to Stiles. He,” Theo clears his throat, “he dropped it at the school.”

Stiles realizes what Scott’s holding. The wrench he’d used to hit Donovan after the wendigo bit his shoulder. He rubs the scar, now flaring with a minor ghost pain. Lydia narrows her eyes at the movement.

“Dropped it when?”

“When he killed Donovan.”

Lydia’s face falls, but she doesn’t look angry. Or disappointed. She looks hurt. Stiles mouths an apology, not wanting to miss the conversation. He reaches his hand out, palm up and she takes it, squeezing gently. He’ll take that as her support.

“What are you talking about?” Scott sounds off in disbelief. That’s good. That means he can’t believe what Theo’s saying, right?

“You know how he hurt his shoulder, right?” Theo pushes, “I know you smelled the blood.”

“The jeep,” Scotts mumbles, sounding like his own words are foreign to him. “He said the hood fell on him. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Why do you think Stiles went with that excuse? Fixing Roscoe has given him more cuts and bruises than he can count.

“No, no,” Theo takes a shaky breath, “that was Donovan. He attacked Stiles at the school that night. I- I only saw the end of it, because Malia had mentioned that’s the last place she saw him and I was close. But what I saw-” the chimera cuts off with a sniffle.

“Theo, tell me.”

“I saw Donovan go down; hard.” It sounds like Theo is crying. “I couldn’t stop Stiles. He hit Donovan in the face with the wrench and didn’t stop. He just kept hitting him and I- I heard the bones. Maybe Stiles thought he had to defend himself, I don’t know. By the time Stiles was done, he- it- it didn’t even look like a person anymore.”

Lydia’s face is painfully blank and Stiles is doing his best not to let his own tears fall. He feels like he’s losing two friends in the span of one conversation.

“That’s not possible.”

“I kept telling myself it was self defense. It was self defense,” the repetition sounds like it was more for Stiles’ benefit than Scott’s. Maybe even Lydia’s too, because she squeezes his hand again and it feels like reassurance. “But Scott, I’ve never seen anything like that before. It didn’t even look real. Like, like something out of a movie. I’ve never seen someone that angry before. Scott, you should really talk to Stiles about this, not me.”

The wolf growls, “oh, believe me, I will.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say as he hears two car doors slam closed. Theo says something to Scott about splitting up to find Corey and his footsteps echo through the phone. Lydia still doesn’t look angry and the chimera doesn’t know how to handle that. He can barely meet her green eyed gaze, clinging to her hand like a lifeline.

“Dammit,” Theo growls, “Corey’s dead. Stiles?” He can’t speak. Theo tries again, “Stiles? Sweetheart, talk to me.”

Lydia reaches over and unmutes his phone, “Stiles, answer him.”

"Kitten?"

“I can’t believe he believed you. He sounded so angry,” Stiles mutters, absolutely shocked at his so-called best friend. “Y-you don’t believe anything you just said…right?” The chimera is unsure why he suddenly needs Theo’s approval or reassurance. Only that he does. Lydia’s too.

“Something tells me you’re not asking me,” the banshee grips his bicep lovingly. “But I don’t believe that’s how it happened either.”

“Of course not, sweetheart,” Theo promises. “If you could have gotten away without it, you would have. How about I come over again tonight?” Stiles half catches Lydia’s parroted again and her smirk. “We can order Chinese and watch a movie. I just have to help Scott with Liam and Hayden first, the Doctors have them at Sinema. Are you going to meet us at the clinic after? Scott wants to look them over there just in case.”

Stiles grins, “yes to all of that. I’m gonna have Lydia take me to the mechanic, supposedly they fixed Roscoe enough to run. Cool?” Lydia nods. “But I’m picking the movie.”

“Whatever you want,” Theo agrees. “I’ll see you later.”

---

Roscoe is definitely not in running shape. How Stiles made it to the clinic is a miracle in and of itself. He broke down several times along the way. The jeep technically stalled out in the parking lot rather than him actually putting it in park. He’s pissed because he should’ve been here over an hour ago and it’s raining so he’s soaked. Scott’s waiting for him outside in the rain. He can smell Theo inside and wants to run to him. One of the two people who seem to have his back right now.

Slamming the jeep door closed, “Sorry,” Stiles says, “jeep was giving me problems the whole way here. Turns out being flipped and burned is super bad for cars. Who knew?” He tries to joke, but then he sees the wrench in the wolf’s hands. He knows that Scott knows, but he has to play his part now. “Where’d you get that?”

“So this is yours?” The wolf growls, spinning the metal tool in his hand. Stiles nods, casting his eyes to the ground. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Wiping water from his eyes, “I was going to,” Stiles tells him.

“No,” Scott shakes his head. “Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“I couldn’t.”

Because you’d be looking at him exactly the way you are now. And Stiles couldn’t handle that. At least at the time. Now he’s just aggravated that the True Alpha believed he could do that. And now the chimera is stuck playing the part of the hurt friend. But he won’t blow his cover and put Theo in danger. No fucking way.

“You killed Donovan.” Not a question. A statement, speaking volumes as to what Scott’s thoughts on all of this is.

Stiles scoffs, “He was going to kill my dad. He was going to kill me!” The chimera’s arms widen before slapping his thighs. At least he can still tell the truth and not fuck this up. “Was I supposed to just let him? Politely sit down with a smile on my face and let him eat my legs and then tear my head off like he said he would?” He hears a quiet growl, no doubt Theo having heard him.

“You weren’t supposed to do this,” Scott levels him. “And don’t tell me you didn’t have a choice. There’s always a choice.”

Even being told that Donovan was ready to kill him, Scott thinks that Stiles could’ve gotten away. What he wouldn’t give to have Derek or Peter, hell even Isaac or Allison here to back him up. It’s kind of funny, but something tells him that even Jackson would believe him. They would understand why he did what he did and they wouldn’t be looking at him like this. Like a disappointment. Like a monster.

“Yeah, well,” Stiles scoffs, “I can’t do what you can! The great Scott McCall, you’re the True Alpha! Guess fucking what? Not all of us can be True Alphas! Some of us have to get out hands dirty to defend ourselves because some of us are fucking human!”

The wolf shakes his head, water flying from his hair, “there’s a point where it’s not self defense anymore.”

“You don’t believe me?” Stiles mutters, shell shocked all over again that even with the truth in front of him, Scott is choosing to listen to Theo instead. He’d rather believe that Stiles is a monster than someone who only did what he had to do to protect himself.

“I want to.”

No, you don’t. Your heart even says do.

“What do I do?” Stiles asks merely for the sake of saving face. He’s more than a little done with the wolf. “Scott, tell me how to fix this.” Though he couldn’t care less about fixing things. The Alpha said his piece. Stiles is done.

“Don’t worry about Malia or Lydia,” Scott says as though that’s an answer. “We’ll take care of this ourselves. Maybe…maybe you should talk to your dad.”

Then again, that’s an answer enough, isn’t it? Because there isn’t anything Stiles could do to mend things with the wolf. Even if he wanted to. Some part of him tells him that he should feel more hurt about this than he does. But he’s not. Stiles pretends to sulk as he gets back in his jeep, thankful is starts so he can get the fuck out of here. He of course only makes it about halfway home before Roscoe breaks down again and won’t start at all.

Ignoring his now shattered window from throwing the bloodied wrench at it, Stiles walks the rest of the way. Something snaps in his chest and it isn’t until he gets to his house that Stiles realizes it’s the pack bond he’d had with Scott breaking. For what it’s worth, it doesn’t hurt. Once upstairs, the chimera peels out of his wet clothes and takes a scalding shower before getting dressed in some pajamas, sitting up in bed while he waits for Theo.

A car pulls up in his driveway and not a moment later does he get a text from Theo.

Kitten, where are you?

Right. His jeep is on the side of the road somewhere. Theo probably thinks he didn’t come home.

I’m upstairs. Jeep broke down so I had to walk. The door’s unlocked.

His front door opens and shuts, the scent of Theo and wonton egg drop soup floods his nostrils before footsteps echo on the stairs. The other chimera opens his bedroom door, to-go bag in one hand and a backpack in the other. “I come with comfort food and my own clothes this time,” Theo smiles, waving the two bags in his hands. “You eat, I’m gonna get changed. Did you pick a movie?”

Stiles takes the offered paper bag and starts to lay its contents on the bed. Smiling at the massive container of soup, steamed dumplings, spare ribs, and disgusting amount of egg rolls. Theo got all of his favorites. “I mean, Star Wars is always a comfort for me.”

“So we’ll watch that then,” Theo says easily with a smile, grabbing Stiles’ laptop off his desk and putting it next to him on the bed. “I’ll be right back,” he turns to leave.

Opening the laptop, Stiles loads up the movie. It’s still inserted from the last time he’d watched it. “I think I can handle seeing you in your boxers,” Stiles laughs, popping the lid off the soup.

The other chimera shrugs, and takes his jacket off. Stiles does his best to not pay attention and focus on eating. Which lasts all of two seconds because the other chimera does that stupid over the head, one arm pull to take his shirt off and drops his pants before Stiles can recover. He’s trying very hard to not let the hot soup venture to his lungs seeing Theo in the restricting, black fabric of his boxer briefs.

Theo for once takes pity on him and doesn’t tease him for staring, fishing in his backpack and putting on the sweats and tee he pulled out. The other chimera presses play on the laptop, settling himself beside Stiles and grabbing a container of dumplings. The golden letters aren’t even off the screen before Theo’s talking, “I’m sorry I had to show you that way.”

“It sucked,” Stiles admits, dipping an egg roll in his soup. “But I think I’m okay now. I mean, Lydia believes me. And I’ve got you, right?”

“Always,” Theo agrees, leaning over to place a kiss on the chimera’s shoulder.

They eat their meal in companionable silence with Theo cleaning everything up, per his own insistence. Once he’s back in bed, they’re curling up with one another. Laying his head on the other chimera’s chest, it’s no time before Stiles starts purring, trying to nuzzle as close as he can to fall asleep. “You are a very nice pillow,” the chimera states.

“I’m sure it’d be even more comfortable if I was my wolf,” Theo informs him, gently playing with the chimera’s hair.

Stiles shoots up, “I can’t believe I forgot about that!” His face breaks into a cheeky grin, “let me see!” He gently pushes the laughing chimera.

“Alright, alright,” he playfully swats Stiles’ hands away, getting up from the bed. “I promise I’ll teach you how, okay?”

“Okay, sure,” Stiles flails, “come on,” he drags the word. Awe is the closest the chimera can think to describe how he feels at the sight. One second Theo is yanking his shirt off and the next black hairs are sprouting from every inch of skin and his eyes are glowing gold. Then he drops to the floor, four paws hitting the carpet, a beautiful, massive black wolf staring at him. “Holy shit,” Stiles mutters, eyes ready to bulge out of his head as Theo shakes his, his ears flopping around.

He’s a fucking wolf. An actual wolf. That’s fucking crazy! The only other time Stiles had ever seen it was when Derek transformed from one in Mexico. But Theo is huge. Maybe it’s because he’s a chimera? That’s what makes the most sense to Stiles at least. He wonders just how much of a wolf Theo is right now. Is Theo there at all? Is he fucking sentient?

“Can I,” Stiles reaches his hand out without really thinking, or bothering to contemplate his prior question at all. That if this is mostly an animal right now, he could get bit for trying to pet it. But when his hand touches the soft fur between the other chimera’s ears, the wolf rumbles softly, rubbing his head against Stiles’ palm. “Are you still you? Like, can you understand me?”

The wolf bumps his head again, lifting his eyes to flash them gold at him.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the chimera laughs. “Well come on,” he moves farther back on the bed, lifting the covers, “I was promised you’d be more comfortable like this.” Stiles fights the urge to literally pat the bed.

Theo hops up on the mattress, nearly making Stiles roll from his weight. The other chimera nudges him until he’s laying on his back. Stiles settles against his pillow. Well, tries to at least. He’s never been big on sleeping on his back. The wolf gently lays down, positioning himself until he’s practically half laying on top of Stiles. The chimera grunts. Nope. No way is this comfortable. But then Theo shifts every so slightly and lays his head on Stiles’ chest and starts to growl softly.

Stiles’ hands wrap around the wolf on instinct, fingers running through the fur. “Okay,” the chimera yawns deeply, wiggling enough to settle. “This is,” another yawn rips through him, his head falling to the side and bumping with Theo’s nose. “This is nice,” Stiles mumbles, already half asleep from the living security blanket.

Ch 7 (coming 7/6)

#teen wolf #steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #theo x stiles #stiles x theo #ao3 fic #Match Writes

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anxiousstark · 4 years

Text

S2 07 | Restraint

BIG MASTERLIST | TW REWRITE

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count:

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, murder, swearing (always).

A/N: This is more likely a filler chapter. I swear as chapters go on they get better! I’m so excited for those ones to come out!

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

"You will not go within 50 feet of Jackson Whittemore. You will not speak to him. You will not approach him. You will not assault or harass him physically or psychologically." Noah Stilisnki glanced at us with deception. It broke my heart to see him feeling so ashamed of us. If only he knew everything that was going on.

Jackson had told his father about us, and now Scott, Stiles, and I had a restraint order.

The Hazel-eyed boy gazed around. "What about school?"

"You can attend classes while attempting to maintain a 50 - foot distance."

"Bu-. Okay, what if we both have to use the bathroom at the same time and there's only two stalls available and they're only right next to each other?" Mr. Stilisnki, Melissa, and Jackson's dad sighed, crossing their arms over their chest. "I'll just hold it."

Stiles was bickering with his dad. "Move," Melissa pushed Scott and me slightly. She focused her gaze on her son. "It's not just this. Although, a restraining order is a new low that I didn't think that you would reach quite this soon. It's everything on top of it. The completely behaviour, the late nights coming home, having to beg Mr. Harris for you to make up that chemistry test that you missed." She now looked at me. "I truly didn't expect you to follow whatever these two had in mind while preparing such a stupid joke to Jackson." I felt a pang on my chest, biting my lower lip, deciding that it was better to remain silent.

"I missed a chemistry test?"

"Really, Scott? Really? I have to ground you. I am grounding you. You are grounded." Her eyes again on me. "That goes for you too, young lady. I have to ground you too." I nodded.

"What about work?"

"Fine.Other than work. And no TV."

"My TV's broken." And I didn't watch TV.

"Then no computer."

"I need the computer for school." True.

"Then no, uh, no Stiles."

"What?!" Stiles and I snapped at the same time.

"No Stiles?!" Said boy came closer to us.

"No Stiles!" She shouted, making me and the boy back up. Damn, Melissa was quite scary when she yelled. "And no more car privileges. Give me your keys. Give 'em to me!" Her hands shook a little as she tried to take the car key. "Oh, for the love of God."

"Mom, you want me to-"

"No."

"Mom, come on, let me just, mom. Mom!" He grabbed her trembling hands.

"What is going on with you? Is this about Allison?"

"Do you really wanna know?

"Yeah. Is this about your father?" Stiles nodded in the back, telling Scott to lie. I was too distracted by the mention of our sperm donor. "It is, isn't it? Okay, you know what, um-. We'll talk about this at home. I'm gonna go get the car." It made me think. Why did he leave Scott and Melissa?

"So did you guys get into much trouble?" Allison asked me, her right hand tightly clutching her bag. "Melissa seems like a woman who has a strong attitude."

"She does." I nodded. "She took Scott's car keys, TV, my radio, and no Stiles." I pouted. I opened the door of the library, motioning for her to go first. She grinned at me.

"Woah, no Stiles." She winked while I looked at her confused. "Must be hard for you."

"Uh? What do you mean?" She didn't answer, gazing at the camera that was installed on the top of the wall, walking directly to a determined place. I wanted to ask her again, but if the Argents knew that she was talking to me, hell would break. That is why when we entered the library, I walked away from her, finding Scott and Stiles.

I smiled at both boys, Allison separated from us by a big shelf. From one of the spaces between the books, she slid a tablet. "It's everything Lydia can translate. And trust me, she was very confused."

"Yeah, what'd you tell her?"

"That we were part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures." She replied, making Scott chuckle.

"I am part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures." He gazed at both of them, feeling insulted.

"I-I do too." Stiles's head turned towards me as he heard my confession.

"You do?" I nodded. "Want to come to my house and play together? We could complete all the missions, I'm already on the second part of the new event that finishes on-"

"No way!" I interrupted him. "It started one month ago! How did you get so far?"

Scott grinned, interrupting our passionate talk about our online community. "Okay, does it say how to find out who's controlling him?"

"Not really. But Stiles was right about the murderers."

"Yes!" His aggressive gesture celebrating that he was right almost hit me on the face.

"It calls the Kanima a weapon of vengeance. There's a story in there about this South American priest who uses the Kanima to execute murderers in his village."

"All right, see? So maybe it's not all that bad." I nodded along.

"Until the bond grew strong enough that it killed whoever he wanted it to."

I groaned, punching Stiles's arm playfully. "Why did you have to talk so soon?"

"All bad, all very, very bad."

"Here's the thing, though. The Kanima's actually supposed to be a werewolf. But it can't be-" Allison couldn't finish her sentence as the person in charge of the library got closer to her, trying to organize some books.

"Until it resolves that in its past which manifested it." Scott finished fo her. A chill ran through my body, I knew what was in my past.

"Okay, if that means that Jackson could use a few thousand hours of therapy, I could've told you that myself." If I was the same as Jackson, a Kanima. Would I be a werewolf after discovering what manifested this all?

"What if- It has something to do with his parents? His real parents." That could be me too. Jackson and I could have ended up being this monster for similar reasons.

"Yeah, does anybody actually know what happened to them?"

"Lydia might."

"What if she doesn't know anything?"

"Well, he doesn't have a restraining order against me, so- I'll talk to him myself." That wasn't a good idea. Jackson wouldn't be able to control his instincts if he was mad. And yeah, Allison was a pretty great hunter, but she could still get killed.

"Okay, what do I do?"

"You have a make-up exam, remember?" She grabbed his hand. "Promise me."

"Are they going to have sex right now? Here?" Stiles chuckled after my comment, grabbing my hand, taking me away from them to give privacy.

Scott was trying to past the chemistry test that he didn't attend, and I hoped that he would pass it. Stiles had spent the night before it helping him as much as possible, without Melissa knowing, of course. Remember, no Stiles.

Allison went to talk with Jackson and Stiles with Lydia. Allison didn't let me go with her, saying that she could protect herself, but I felt like something was going to be wrong. Stiles decided that Lydia would shy away if we went in a group to talk to her, so I was resting my back against the lockers while he followed the strawberry blonde girl.

I heard the ticking of a clock inside my head, I groaned. "Y/N?" Scott? Was I hearing Scott inside my head? "Allison needs me. Go get Stiles, he is in trouble. Keep an eye on him?"

"What about your exam?"

"They need me. She needs me, please."

"Go get Allison," I whispered aloud. I started walking fastly, trying to find Stiles. I did, and he was following Erica.

"You can't tell Derek, okay? There's a lot more to this that you don't know about. And just because you got the Alpha bite makeover doesn't give you a license to go around destroying people."

"Why not? That's all anybody ever used to do to me. I used to have the worst crush in the world on you. Yeah, you, Stiles. And you never once even noticed me. Exactly how you're not noticing me right now." Her hand rested on his chest, and I could feel hot all over. I didn't think twice, walking fastly to them, grabbing her wrist.

"I told you," I growled. "Don't touch-"

I was interrupted when the boy's locker room opened, Scott flying in the air, falling brutally into the ground, groaning. Jackson jumped on him, not being able to control himself. I ended up jumping on top of Jackson, trying to free Scott from him. But Whittemore punched me on the chin. Still, I continued fighting until Erica grabbed Jackson, and Stiles grasped me, lifting me from the floor. His arms were tight around my waist, mouth near my ear, letting me know that my eyes were ice blue. "Close them. Close your eyes. Breathe with me." He whispered.

We all ended up getting detention, Jackson had gone out of the room. He was pale and crazily sweating. When he came back, he still looked like he was going to pass out. Mr. Harris had left us on our own, letting us know that we needed to organize the library. I hated that dude.

Erica had let us know that Jackon's parents died in a car accident. Her father was the insurance investigator. Every time he sees Jackson drive his Porsche, he makes some comment about the huge settlement he'll be getting when he's 18. During all this, Stiles was sitting next to her, and she tried to lowkey flirt with him.

Ugh.

"It means he was born after his mom died by c-section. They had to pull him out of her dead body."

"So was it an accident or not?" Allison and I were staring at Jackson while organizing some books. The sooner we finished, the sooner we could get the hell out here.

"The word all over the report is inconclusive."

"Then his parents could have been murdered?" My parents weren't killed. My mom was a murderer, and my dad was an asshole who didn't have the heart to take care of any of his kids.

"If they were, then it falls in line with the kanima myth. You know? It seeks out and kills murderers."

"Then what about me?" I whispered.

"You aren't a kanima," Hazel-eyes peered deep into mine. "I told you before. We would have known that you were the Kanima like we knew that Jackson was." His hand rested on my back. "Don't worry about that. We will continue investigating."

After comforting me, Scott decided that we had to talk to Jackson. They continued talking, but I decided to ignore them. I felt dizzy, so I continued grabbing books, placing them where they belonged. My eyes went to read the title of the book 'Close your eyes, Y/N'. I blinked, a couple of times until those words disappeared, and the real title of the book appeared.

I grabbed another book, glancing at it. 'Obey or they die.'

"Stiles," I grabbed his arm, but he was trying to talk to Allison and Scott, deciding what to do with Jackson. "Stiles," He finally looked at me, a questioning look on his face. "W-What is the title of this book?"

He grabbed the books from my arms, still confused. "To kill a mockingbird." I nodded after his reply, smiling and placing the book where it belonged. I walked around, trying to find Jackson. But I found Matt, laying on the floor, blood dripping from the back of his neck.

"What the heck?" I heard Scott behind me when I turned around to look at him, glass shattered from above us, books falling. Scott threw his body on me, trying to shield me from the glass. "You okay?" I nodded my head, then he called for Erica. We heard her scream, and then, a thud.

We both quickly got up from the floor. We had to check on Erica, Allison, and Stiles. Stiles, was he okay?

Scott ran to Allison, and Stiles asking both of them if they were alright. I took a step to go to them but was stopped by Jackson. Half of his face was squamous, yellow eyes. He pushed me with incredible strength, my back hitting something, making me groan in pain.

Stiles clutched my hand, moving me to them. "Hey, hey. You okay?" His worried eyes examined every part of my face.

"Hurts like a bitch." I answered, grinning to lower his anxiety. Jackson was now acting odd, he was acting like the kanima. He was being controlled. He began writing on a blackboard "STAY OUT OF MY WAY OR I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU." Then he flew out of the library, smashing his body against a window.

We got into our feet, Stiles and I running towards Erica while the other two were too focused on the board. "Whoa, hey, hey, hey, hey! I think she's having a seizure." Stiles took Erica into his arms.

"He's alive." Allison checked Matt's pulse.

"Hey, we need to get her to a hospital."

"Derek - only to Derek." Even if her body was shaking, she just wanted to go to Hale.

"When we get her to the hospital-"

"To Derek. To Derek."

"Go." Allison looked deeply into my- Scott's eyes.

"I'm staying here with you."

"He can't take her alone. Not like this. And Matt - I've got to call an ambulance for him, just go."

"Guys," I interrupted. "Take Erica to Derek, now. I will stay here with Allison," I gazed at Scott, who was utterly anxious. "We will be alright." I felt other eyes on me when I turned my head I was met with Stiles's eyes. "Taker her to Derek, okay? Then, come back to me." He nodded.

TAGLIST: @og-baby-ob14 - @savemypostcards - @cas-loves-pizza - @used-avocado - @mvrylee - @bilesxbilinskixlahey - @honeydoll-stark - @arieltheworldisamess - @softpeteparker - @kit-kat-katie99 - @thatsuperherosidekick - @bexbetterxthanxwords - @big-galaxy-chaos - @littlemiss-forgotten - @enchantedcruelsummer - @coldfreakeggsexpert - @merla123 - @sammypotato67 - @weirdowithnobeardo - @maggiesblogsblog - @itskindyl - @bobo-bush - @moongoddesskiana - @multifandxm353 - @irwxnhugsx - @xoprincessmel - @iclosetgeek - @andreagf956 - @niawoods - @anerroroccurrrrred - @perrytheplatypus11 - @trustfundparker - @nmriia - @steve-harringtonnn - @trustfundparker -

People in bold means it doesn’t let me tag them.

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asterekmess · 4 years

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honestly, my fury at the lack of werewolf culture/history/worldbuilding is worthy of its own post. Let me know if by some ungodly chance, you actually wanna hear my thoughts on it // Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

ohmygod yes, pls, enable me.

SO.

I think I mentioned b4 that Teen Wolf hates werewolves.

This is a show about werewolves like, yeah, sure, they do other plots and stuff. But the main character is a werewolf. The vast majority of the cast are werewolves (at least in the first half of the show). But think about it. What do we actually know about werewolves? They uhh, they shift on the full moon. But like, what about the full moon? Cus’ Scott gets handcuffed to a radiator and he doesn’t shift and break out until the moon comes out from behind the clouds and he screams like it’s excruciatingly painful for him. But then Derek and his Betas are underground during their full moon, and they shift like it’s all fine and dandy (they’re furious, but there’s no pain) and it doesn’t matter whether they can see the moon or not. They, uhh, they’re allergic to wolfsbane/it’s poisonous to them (btw it’s poisonous to literally everyone, just the scent of it is enough to cause seizures and hallucinations in humans. It’s a whole other frustration that they won’t make up their fucking minds abt it. It’s one thing to say that this is some parallel universe where wolfsbane doesn’t poison humans (bc lydia makes them hallucinate with the punch but injesting that much wolfsbane should kill you, and Stiles straight pulls a plant out of the ground; should’ve caused itching, burning, a cough, nausea, fever, headache and More hallucinations) and yet Jackson has to see a doctor and gets told he’s got Aconite Poisoning. So WHAT IS THE TRUTH?) but apparently not enough for Derek not to be able to plant a wolfsbane plant and massive cord of roots (which he would’ve had to tie together himself) in a revenge spiral around Laura’s body. But just being around it causes wolves to lose control. But also there’s supposed to be different strains that do different things? And also sometimes you burn the wolfsbane and it becomes the cure, or you have to burn it out of them or you just cut it out of them? Make UP Your MIND or at least ACKNOWLEDGE that different strains do different things. They get stronger on a full moon. But does that mean they get infinitely stronger with every full moon they experience? Does that mean they get weaker during new moons? They’re stronger in packs. Okay, but they never establish what the fuck a pack is. Is it an agreement? Is it a magical bond? Scott just sort of says people are in his pack. Does that mean they are? Do the humans he knows make him stronger? Just how strong is this bond? Derek makes a claim that “You have your own pack now” so is that a joke, was he mocking scott? Or is he saying that there’s no need for an Alpha and just being a beta with some friends counts as a pack? Apparently they have some kind of...animal magnetism or mind control? Derek uses a funny voice and a guy wakes up from a near coma to look at him with seemingly no control. Peter can force Scott to shift up. Derek forces Isaac to shift down. Derek has an insane amount of control over dogs and makes one lose its fucking mind from like a hundred feet away? Scott makes one calm down, but derek sends attack dogs running with their tails between their legs. Is it actual control or is it just a persuasion? Is it just intimidation? I haven’t even gotten to culture. You’re telling me that we get an entire episode of Allison discovering the entire story behind the Argent clan’s origins as werewolf hunters, why they started, how her name means Silver and apparently that’s where the entire myth of silver hurting werewolves comes from, but we don’t get to know anything about the first werewolves? Where they come from? If they’re a form of evolution or just straight magic or if it’s a curse or a gift from the gods? There’s an entire hidden werewolf population with packs all over the world, but somehow there’s literally no wolf culture? No moon worship? No specific terminology (Alpha, Beta, and Omega are terms used by a really fucking stupid biologist who studied frantic wolves in captivity and cast aspersions on the entire species. He’s been disproven a Thousand Times. NONE of that Alpha, Beta, Omega shit is right. Packs aren’t Hierarchies of Dominance. They’re families. They’re led by two wolves, yes, an “alpha pair” that’s literally JUST THE PARENTS. THE ‘BETAS’ ARE THEIR KIDS. This terminology makes sense if used by HUNTERS who consider werewolves to be mindless dumb animals. WHY THE FUCK would werewolves use it to DESCRIBE THEMSELVES?) besides the absolute minimum of ‘I caught a scent?’ Are you serious? Then there’s werewolf ages. Oh my god that was so fucking lazy. Saying that werewolves don’t age like humans, but that Cora is seventeen “by human standards” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? I’ve seen theories that go so many different ways. The idea that Werewolves live really long lives because of the superhealing. The idea that they live really short lives because their healing just burns through their body really quickly. The idea that their lifespan is directly correlated to the amount of damage they take because they can only heal so much, so wolves who get hurt a lot age faster than wolves who don’t. There’s NO explanation! You’d think it might be an interesting point for Scott to find out that he’s gonna live to fucking 200 years old. (How old is Satomi again?) That sounds like something a Teenager would be daunted by. We see them make fun of Stiles a few times because he believes werewolf myths about silver, and then because he believes Peter when Peter tells him he lives in a series of underground caves. But like...why not? THESE ARE WEREWOLVES why did you just make them humans with extra facial hair? Where are the traditional mating rituals (or even the concept of a mate/life partner, can you imagine how interesting that would’ve been? If Scott found out Allison was his mate? Or if he suddenly had all these weird urges around her, like rubbing their foreheads together or cuddling her way too much or wanting to bring her food? That would’ve been fascinating and hilarious as subplots for their romance!) where are the full moon runs or pack get-togethers? Where are the aversions to perfumes or cologne? Where are literally any animal behaviors besides AGGRESSION? Where is the den-making? Can werewolves eat fast food or does the grease bug them? Talia was a famous Alpha bc she could full shift. Does anyone know why she could do that? “Evolution” is a bullshit answer, let’s be real. It’s shitty writing and it put Derek through so much more than he deserved. THEY ACCIDENTALLY ESTABLISHED that ALL HALES can full-shift! IT’s NOT EVOLUTION. It’s BIRTHRIGHT. Talia fullshifted. Peter full-shifted (though his was distorted into the monster thingy. That wasn’t anything like Deucalion’s shift. It was a FULL SHIFT) Laura could full shift bc she did it after she died. No other werewolves on the show turned into full wolves after death, even if they died with wolfsbane in their system? MALIA could full-shift into a coyote. LITERALLY EVERY HALE except Cora and that’s bc she got booted back to South America COuld FULL SHIFT (and it never happened after they lost all of their wolf powers, that coud’ve been an interesting plot if they didn’t FUCK IT UP.) But still there’s no explanation, or even just acknowledgement? You don’t have to spell it out for us, but at least SAY “Hey, so the Hale family is really powerful and all of us can full-shift. Not sure why, but it’s neat.) I’m still stuck on rituals. Routines. Werewolf mores. Social cues. Are there certain smells they’re supposed to ignore? Is it polite to pretend you don’t hear someone coming up to your house until they knock? Do they have rules about waiting until the Alpha eats before they start eating (much like how lots of traditional households wait for the father to dig in, or whoever is head of household)? Is it tradition to homeschool werewolves for the first few years until they learn control? Are there seriously no rules about biting humans? You don’t have to talk to their parents or have a specific conversation with them? And if werewolves are so dominance/hierarchy based, then you’re telling me there’s no “second-in-command” or respectful greetings that are supposed to be used for an Alpha? There’s absolutely no form of werewolf government or ancient laws or anything except a big spiral that is universally recognized as a sign you’re gonna kill people? What was the wolfsbane around Laura’s body for? Why make the spiral out of that instead of just drawing in the dirt or something? We make a lot of jokes about Derek being bad with his words, but so is Peter and so is Cora. And they’re the only born wolves we interact with (except Satomi who ALSO isn’t a chatterbox) What if that’s not just because they’re all traumatized and cranky? What if they’re just speaking on a different level? Scents and body language are integral to wolf interaction. Like how we say that Peter has that conversation with Derek’s eyebrows? What if Derek’s so fucking pissed all the time because he hates talking to Scott because SCott ISN”T LISTENING to his body language and scent and chemosignals? He tells Scott to use all his senses, and Scott does it fucking once to say that Peter felt “Angry” and never again. What if Derek is Talking PLENTY (with his body and movements and reactions) but Scott just isn’t paying attention? Isaac seems to understand Derek just fine. Erica and Boyd never complain that Derek is lying to them or ‘keeping something’ from them? What if the reason Scott always thinks Derek’s hiding something is because he isn’t reading the rest of Derek’s conversation and he assumes that the empty feeling is Derek lying. Even STILES seems to understand Derek. He’s human, but he goes totally wolfy. He already uses body language a lot and while he gets mad at Derek he never has to ask what the fuck derek is saying or what he’s holding back. I digress. I wanna know why no other packs came to help Derek and Laura after their family died. I wanna know why Emissaries and Druids are so incredibly important to the supernatural/werewolf world but Derek barely knew they existed (Especially when it’s established that he know tons of lore about other species.) and even though every single pack should have an emissary, they never handle who is the emissary for Derek’s pack or for Scott’s pack (Once again, is an emissary bound to their pack somehow or is it just an agreement?). I wanna know why Derek knew Satomi and trusted her but for some reason never felt like he could ask her for help? Centuries of hiding and living amongst humans with almost no wolf behavior to their name, but none of these packs interact? There’s Druid Vets and Hunter cops and Emissary counselors. But no werewolf doctors? No werewolf teachers? Absolutely no werewolf society? If Derek was worried about Paige not accepting that he was a werewolf unless she became one, what does that say about his experience with humans? He says “there were people in my family that were perfectly ordinary in that house” who died in the fire. But wouldn’t he talk to a human pack member about his worries, if he had one? Or even a bitten pack member? He admits he doesn’t know how to train a Bitten wolf. He’s never been called out by a human pack member for using phrases like ‘caught a scent’ or for reacting to things he shouldn’t. Does this mean Derek’s family was entirely werewolves? No humans in the know? No bitten wolves? He has a huge thing about keeping the secret and never letting anyone in on it unless they get dragged into it. Did Derek’s pack have some kind of prejudice against humans? Was Derek raised to believe humans were weak or cowardly or something, that he thought this beautiful girl would automatically hate him and expose him if she were to discover the supernatural without being forced into silence by self-preservation.

Lots of times, it’s easy to forget in this fandom that so much is missing, because we’ve been filling in the gaps for so long that some stuff is practically canon. It’s generally assumed that the Hales were homeschooled before high school. It’s generally assumed that there’s some kind of bond that marks people as pack. We instinctively add in mentions of Scent and the use of the shift (growling, claws, a hint of fang, flashing eyes) as part of the casual communication between characters. We add in scent-marking and territory boundaries and specific roles in the pack. We do all of that and never think twice because it’s already in all the fic. But we did that. The show gave us nothing. It spent an entire season talking about the nogitsune and the oni and how they’re summoned and what kitsune fox tails are for, but we never got to find out why wolves can do the pain-drain (or even if it dissipates the pain or just transfers it to the wolf doing the draining) or if Derek Hale EVEN HAS A DAD.

#personal #rant #Meta Ramblings #it's not even anti-scott #Anonymous #go for it

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anaisfinallywrites · 3 years

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Hey, for your WIP ask thingy, I'd love to know more about number 8 from both lists! :)

Heeeey!!! So excited to answer number 8 from the song fic list, as for number 8 from random AU, I already answered in this ask. Personally, I wish I had more to add to the Alpha Stiles AU but it is languishing in my notes, as usual.

Okay, A Thousand Years. Heavily inspired by the vampiric stuff, especially immortality. There is no vampirism involved in the story at any point.

This is my one-line summary for the fic in my notes:

Stiles Derek is the immortal but I might even do a version where Derek is the immortal where it was a spell gone awry that turned him immortal and um, Stiles sacrificed himself in that spell that was supposed to protect Beacon Hills, I think. Friends-to-lovers slow burn.

Okay, there are 2 versions in my head right from the very beginning and we will start with Stiles first.

For Stiles, there wasn't any spell or anything, he was just immortal and he kept falling in love with the same person whenever they meet (Derek, obviously) but of course, Stiles is immortal and Derek is not and every single time, he had to watch the love of his life die of old age and whatever cause of death in between.

The loop is repeated many times until one day, Derek doesn't age and Stiles is surprised because this never happened before. Stiles got curious naturally and researched into it.

The thing is, you can only fall in love with the same person so many times before you start to retain a little bit memory from all your past lives. (If you can’t tell, I am positively making shit up as I go XD.) But of course, Derek’s smart, this guy that he’s seeing is so familiar but he could swear that this was the first time they’ve met. So, he did his own research that included questionable magic spells about finding soulmate or regaining memories of past lives, very dangerous shit but sometimes, you just gotta know, no matter what. Perhaps, every incarnation did something that snowballed into the present and Derek stumbled upon a legit spell for immortality. Tada! Derek remembers all the times he fell in love with Stiles and always leaving him because death comes to all eventually and then he didn’t need to die anymore and spend the rest of eternity with Stiles.

2nd version

Derek is alpha (because I just love him as alpha) and he’s doing better, he has his betas Erica, Isaac and Boyd and the Alpha Pack is skirting around the edges of Beacon Hills, waiting to strike in a moment of weakness.

Stiles worked hard to research something that would protect Beacon Hills and everybody he loves. He found a spell that uses the Nemeton to create a ward and supercharges it but it also needs an alpha of the territory to stabilize or add more oomph to the spell. Apparently, Stiles wasn’t great on reading the fine print or something or maybe he missed something, he did the spell and Derek became immortal (he doesn’t actually know he’s immortal yet) to be the guardian that always protects Beacon Hills while Stiles sacrificed his spark and life and died. I put the term die loosely because in my head, it was a little bit dramatic and nobody actually sees Stiles die, he just disappears after the spell was finished. The ward was put into place and any new threat will be dissuaded from coming to Beacon Hills or the Hale pack will deal with it.

Derek grieves for Stiles and how he could never explore what they could have had but finished grieving, dealt with the Alpha Pack by killing them and gets his sister back and then life went on more peacefully.

A few years later, the rest of the pack grew up and Derek realized that he did not seem to grow any older since the spell was done. Derek panicked a little, asked for Peter to help research the spell that Stiles used and they found the fine print. It fits because Derek will always be a protector and protecting Beacon Hills doesn’t seem like any hardship since Derek doesn’t see himself going anywhere, might as well protect the town and the people in it that Stiles died for.

Fast forward years, the Hale Pack grows but Derek grows increasingly reclusive. He passed on his Alpha spark to a new generation and kinda... disappears when the people he knows died. But Derek didn’t go anywhere, he’s still in Beacon Hills, just became more of a hermit so no one he knows can recognize him besides his pack since he doesn’t grow old.

Derek meets Stiles’ incarnation once or twice, he always treats him in a friendly and brotherly manner because it’s not the same as the Stiles that used to threaten leaving him for dead or kill him but always came through and saved him in some ways or other. Derek still harbors feelings for Stiles but since he never got the chance to be with Stiles and doesn’t think he deserve that kind of happiness, he doesn’t even try to be more.

When Stiles reincarnated, he did not do it in Beacon Hills. He came from out of town every single time, but he is also very attracted to the Nemeton. The Hale Pack always knew who Stiles was, the OG members have pictures of him and tell stories of him but at that point, Derek has already left behind the pack politics and just lived life as a hermit while the Hale Pack kept an eye on Stiles, wondering what he would do. On that note, Derek doesn’t know that Stiles’ incarnations always goes to commune with the Nemeton, because it was the focal point of his death and his energy or whatever is still strong there. The Hale Pack knows and always invite Stiles to pack gatherings and such even though he appears very much normal and human.

Until one day, Stiles’ reached his “full recovery” or whatever and regained his memories. He knows that Derek visited the Nemeton after his death to confess what he never would have told the pack and sat under the shade of the Nemeton for hours on end, believing that he could feel Stiles there even though he was gone.

Stiles goes to find Derek and then they live happily ever after as hermits from then on~

That’s about it! Lackluster? Perhaps, but this is still somewhat fly by my pants idea so like, will add this into my notes.

#wip game #wip ask game #fanfic ask #fanfic ask game #sterek #not!fic #i now know what my calling is #turn my fic ideas into not!fic #job done #i don't even have to write them anymore

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