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laheysdork · 2 years

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strangers - stiles stilinski

summary: you decided that he’s a stranger to you a long time ago, but what if tragedy strikes and the only person that could help you is him?

word count: 4.8k

warnings: cursing, fights, angst, slight fluff, vomit?, a little violence

a/n: so sorry i have been mia for months, i moved out and am finally living (as in not being stuck in my room all the time) i have this enemies-to-lovers fic siting for the longest time in my draft so hope yall like it! the italic bolded ones are flashbacks in case it gets pretty confusing. and i would like to apologize beforehand 🤠

masterlist

Strangers—they’re not always the people we don’t know. Some of them can be by choice, someone we chose to forget.

Sighing at the thought of another dreadful day at school, you drag your feet towards your first class. Your muscle memory kicking in, you pick the seat at the back corner, trying to be as unnoticeable as possible as you wish you can hide under a huge invisible cloak. After dumping your bag onto the floor next to the table, your body lazily sinks into the chair. Shuffling inside the pocket of your hoodie, you take out your phone and click it on, looking at the time.

7.50 A.M.

For once, you are early. Class starts at 8, so you have an extra 10 minutes to waste. As you begin to think about ways to kill the time, you hear two familiar voices growing louder as they enter the class.

You know those voices by heart. The voices that would always cheer you up when you were sad, the voices that continuously came up with jokes every day, but also the same voices that have shattered the only living soul you have left. How could one bring so much joy but also pain?

“Come on, Stiles. Star Wars? Again? Don’t you have any other movies to watch for our weekly movie nights?” you grumbled irritatedly.

“Last week, Scott picked some lame-ass rom-com and forced us to sit through it so this week it’s MY turn for revenge.” He emphasized the ‘my’ and crossed his arms across his chest, smirking at the thought of his genius evil plan.

“Fine, but next week I’m making you watch Spiderman.”

His curled lips dropped flat instantly. “Spiderman? Y/N, you know I am a DC man. Why would you do this to me?” he whined in disbelief which earned a maniacal laugh from you.

“Well, as you said before Stilinski, that is MY turn for revenge.”

Losing yourself in your thoughts, 10 minutes have long passed as the coach abruptly enters the classroom.

“This is the right class, right? Yeah, I think so.” He mumbles to himself as he places his stuff onto the teacher’s desk and clears his throat.

“Since I’m busy today, you will be doing a pair project.”

And the class goes wild.

“Hey, shut up. I’m not done yet.” Coach yells which gradually silences the class.

“Before all of you got too happy, I will be picking the pairs. Some of you depended on other students too much and that is not good.” He shakes his head, trailing off the subject.

“So, uhm, I’m just going to write the pairs on the board and the instructions. While I’m at it, please for the love of God shut your mouth.”

You are surprised. As a generally unlucky person, today doesn’t seem so bad. You won’t have to sit through coach’s lectures for 2 periods, which you consider as a total win.

However, your triumph does not last long as the words written messily on the board haunt you.

Pair 3: Y/F/N Y/L/N, Stiles Stilinski

Fuck-

“Okay, so all you have to do is collect some general information regarding the market structures and make a mind map. Simple. Now, huddle up with your buddies and get to work.”

Even after everyone starts grouping up with their partners, you are still slumped in the corner, not having any sort of will or energy left to interact with Stiles Stilinski.

Thankfully (or not), Stiles decides to make the first move, his silhouette towering your sitting figure. As you strictly look at your phone, a loud screech filled your ears, Stiles noisily dragging a vacant chair next to your table.

“Y/N,” he called in a tone you can’t quite comprehend.

God.

“Yeah,” you replied bluntly, glancing up.

“I- um, I wanted to say-“

“Sorry, what? I can’t hear you.”

In fact, you actually can. Hell, you even know what he’s about to say. But you do not brace yourself for this. You can barely look at him, let alone talk to him.

“Hey, movie night at 7?” You nudged on Stiles' arms, startling him, busy going through a bunch of papers on his desk.

“Uhh, no. I’m busy tonight.” He glanced to you for a second then proceeds to occupy himself.

“Okay, how about tomorrow?”

Missing your best friends, you were determined to get the band back together. Stiles and Scott had been exceptionally busy for the past few days and you were not quite sure why.

At first, you thought maybe it had something to do with the new girl, Allison. Scott seemed to be all over her. But then there was that creepy peculiar guy, Derek, who was borderline stalking them. They started to ditch you alone, running off to some secret mission, and you were tired of it. Why were they keeping it from you? Did they not trust you enough?

“Also busy,” he muttered, his focus still fully on the pile of paper. Your mouth gaped to come up with something that would get them to spend time with you but was interrupted by the ringing of the bell. In a flash, Stiles stood up, aimlessly gathering his papers, and zoomed out of the class, leaving your deadpanned state unattended.

From the widely-opened door, you could see Stiles rushing over to Scott. He told Scott something inaudible unless you got some sort of super-hearing, but from the look on Scott’s face, it must’ve been urgently distressing. Both of them bolted out of the school together without you, once again.

“I’ll do the monopoly and monopolistic competition and you do perfect competition and oligopoly. I’ll draw the mind map after school,” you state clearly and monotonously, wanting to quickly get this over with.

“Y/N, I-“

“Is it unclear?” you snap, rather cold.

“No, but-“

“Okay, then. You better start reading.” You heavily lift your book out of the bag and drop it on top of your table.

“What the hell just happened? Scott? Stiles?”

Your quizzical eyes darted waveringly between the two jittery boys, confused and infuriated.

Earlier, the boys had invited you, Allison, Lydia, and Jackson to come over and study. For a while there, you were hopeful. You thought that this small gathering could be a step closer to things going back to how it was, but displeasingly, you were absolutely mistaken.

“I don’t know, it’s-“

“What kind of lie are you coming up with now huh, Stiles? I know you know something!” you confronted.

“Y/N, we didn’t-“

“Oh, you think I didn’t notice? That guy Derek? Then both of you suddenly went M.I.A for days? And don’t get me started with the ‘Sorry, Deaton needs me at the clinic’ or ‘Sorry, my dad called me, gotta go’. We’ve been friends since we were 10 for fucks sake!”

Gladly the three of you were left alone because you were furiously shouting at this point. Allison offered to drive Lydia home the moment she sensed the unnerving tension between the three of you.

“And now, even after whatever that thing is just almost killed us, you still think I don’t deserve to know the truth?”

You shot the two boys death glares through your teary eyes which they actively try to avoid. They looked miserably guilty, something you currently want them to feel.

“You know what, I’m done. Don’t bother chasing after me to explain. I can just ask Allison.” And with that bitter statement, you left the two stunned boys standing frozen on the front porch.

Both of you are quietly reading through the materials and highlighting the key points. You silently thank Stiles for not trying to initiate another awkward conversation, which probably is caused by your previous intimidation.

Luckily, time seems to fly as the bell rings, indicating the end of the class. Not wanting to spend another second in this hellhole, you immediately left the class.

Following that incident, Stiles and Scott tried to reach you for days. Your phone would constantly light up once every few hours with either Scott’s or Stiles’ name lighting up the lockscreen.

After a week or so, the calls eventually came to a halt. You were relieved the ongoing calls that you have convinced yourself were bothering you stopped. But deep down all those denials, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed that they gave up on you so effortlessly.

At the same time, you couldn’t blame them either. You were pretty ruthless.

Things never went back to normal. You avoided them at all cost, stop sitting at their table, vowing to never speak to them ever again.

You knew that keeping grudges would eventually hurt you more than it should but you were headstrong.

They did not trust you. They lied to you. They have made their bed and now you’re just simply letting them sleep on it.

However, this didn’t stop you from being attentive towards them. From time to time, you tried to keep tabs on them by checking in with Allison. But that was until she passed away.

The news left you completely devastated and heartbroken. Even though you were not on good terms with Scott and Stiles, you were still close with Allison.

She was your best friend. She patiently supported you through the heartache of losing your two best friends, she taught you how to stand strong independently, she gave you hope on the brighter days that had yet to come, but most importantly, she trusted you when Scott and Stiles didn’t.

You were also aware of the whole void situation, which pained you more than you thought it would. The thought of the vibrant, eccentric Stiles going through unspeakable agony and remorse wrecked you.

During Allison’s funeral, you decided that letting your distant facade down just for a day to console the pack won’t kill you.

Approaching them after the reception, a surprised look was painted on each of their faces, especially Scott and Stiles. You gave your condolences to everyone and hugged Stiles and Scott, something you haven’t done in ages. Their bodies stiffen from your unexpected action, but soon they melt into the hug and cling onto you tightly, finally accepting that you were really embracing them.

After pulling apart, you excused Scott to give you and Stiles a moment alone.

“Stiles, I know you’re thinking that this is your fault but listen to me, it is not. You were not in control. You were not you. You did not do this.”

Upon hearing comforting words from his long-lost friend, he let out an excruciating sob. Instinctively, you pulled him into your embrace once again as he squeezed you tighter.

You might not be able to forgive him yet but at least you could be there with him through this disastrous nightmare.

The whole day, you try to steer clear of Stiles or the pack. You know he’s trying to get a hold of you, probably wanting to discuss the unfinished project; but we don’t need to add more to the plate, don’t we?

Once school ended, you quickly rush home. From a distance, you can hear Stiles call out your name. But being the excellent evader you claim to be, you ignore them.

Just as you think the day can’t get any worse, the doorbell in your house chimes, indicating a guest present on your doorsteps. You sigh, knowing who is standing behind that door and this time you can’t dodge it.

So much for being an excellent evader.

“What?” you ask, getting straight to the point.

“We haven’t finished our project. I want to help you do the mind map.” He stares at you innocently, fumbling with his hands.

After all these years and he still got those puppy eyes.

“It’s fine, I can do it myself.” You try closing the door but he beats you to it.

“Come on, Y/N. I don’t want you ratting me out to Coach for forced labor, so please just let me in and we’ll work on it together,” he whines, hand still holding the door open.

Even after everything, you still can’t bring yourself to decline him. You have always had a soft spot for Stiles, which you are planning to terminate because it is starting to be troublesome.

“Fine,” you grunt in defeat.

A favorable grin is plastered on his face as he steps into your house.

Things seemed to change after Allison’s death. You noticed fresh faces joining the pack while familiar ones went away.

But out of the several new members, one had caught your eye the most. Her name’s Malia if you’re not mistaken; a snarky brunette, who’s built like a model too by the way.

From what you could tell from the persistent PDA, she was dating Stiles. Yeah, you weren’t exactly in a position to have a say on it, but you were getting real sketchy vibes from her, or so you thought.

“Stiles, you’re still coming over right?” you heard Malia speak to your ex-best friend as you opened your locker across from them.

“Yeah, definitely. I’ll teach you maths too since you’re so bad at it.” You tried not to overhear their conversation but you just couldn’t help it.

“Thanks. You’re the best!” she cried out as she treaded away from Stiles, a pang striking your chest.

Maybe, you’re just slightly jealous.

Okay, slightly was an understatement.

It seemed like you’re still unable to completely erase your suppressed attraction towards him, even when clearly he had.

To minimize any sort of unnecessary interaction, you try to fully put your focus on the project—which works. For the past 15 minutes, the two of you are settled in your living room in silence, minding your own business.

At least until Stiles decides to be clumsy and drop his plastic cup, water spilling all over the floor. You roll your eyes and grab a cloth from the kitchen to clean up the mess.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he curses under his breath as you are drying up the floor.

“It’s fine.”

No actually, it’s not. This situation right here is not fine. You’ve had the shittiest day at school and to make it even worse, Stiles decides to show up uninvitedly at your house which is supposedly your only stress-free zone.

“I’ll help you clean it up.” He squats down, trying to get the cloth from your grip.

“No, you don’t have to.” You don’t want him to cause any more inconvenience, even though you know very well he doesn’t mean it.

“I want to help Y/N, I-“

“What, Stiles? You want to help? Then please for the love of God, leave me alone!” You stand up and snap at him, a bit too loudly. You feel bad for being too hard on him when he’s only trying to help, but you’re unable to extinguish your growing anger.

He straightens up, his once warm face turn into an enraged frown.

“Is this still about what happened back then? Fuck, Y/N. I’ve said sorry, Scott has, thousands of times. But you still don’t want to forgive us. So tell me now Y/N, what should I do, huh?”

The sudden increase in his volume catch you by surprise. He has always been so radiant and carefree, you have never seen him this mad. But despite that, the rage inside of you still does not subdue.

You let out a humorless chuckle.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Stiles. You think that I get to choose not to forgive you, that I’m the evil one and maybe I am at some point. But don’t you dare pull the victim card here.”

Your sight becomes blurry as your eyes start to sting from all the overwhelming emotions but you can care less.

“You lied to me. You left me alone, confused, scared, even after knowing very well how my mom lied to me about my father abandoning me. You know how much I relied on you and Scott, but you still broke my trust. You hurt me. And you think a bunch of “sorry”s will immediately fix that? It’s not that simple, Stiles.”

You’re not screaming as loud as you did before. The tone of your voice softens as a new emotion takes control over your body—pain.

Frustrated, Stiles rummages through his hair while letting out a scoff.

“But it’s not just a bunch of “sorry”s isn’t it? We kept on calling you after that day. We tried approaching you at school. Fuck, I even tried to be nice to you earlier today. But guess what I got in return? Another silent treatment. Why can’t you just fucking move on already? You’re being too overdramatic. No wonder your mom lied to you.”

Bang. His words hit you like a bullet, piercing right through your heart.

Your once agape mouth closes shut, your furrowed eyebrows straighten. Stiles has crossed the line this time.

“Get out,” you spat, emotionless.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean to-“

“I SAID GET OUT, STILES,” you yell at the top of your lungs, frightening him. With horror painted all over his face, he immediately picks up his bag and exits your house, too frightened to say anything else.

As the door shuts, more tears start to flow down your cheeks. You are exhausted. Today’s fiascos have drained every ounce of energy you have left, leaving you like a corpse.

After getting your lifeless, sickly self to shower, you directly plop into your bed, curling yourself in the soft quilt of your blanket. Needing an escape from this dreadful reality, you flutter your eyes shut, instantaneously falling asleep.

You wake up to your accustomed alarm, growling at the blaring sound you set. Finally having enough will to get out of bed, you head to your bathroom.

Turning on the lights, your reflection in the mirror stares back at you.

Gosh, you look dead.

Your skin is as pale as a sheet, your eyes are puffy with prominent dark circles forming under them, your hair is messy and icky. You feel disgustingly terrible.

Dabbing a whole lot of concealer on your skin, you get ready for school; deciding to put whatever catastrophe that had happened yesterday behind you.

Fortunately, you only have one class with Stiles for the day. The day goes by pretty fast and to your delight, pretty decent too, probably because you spend a few periods in the infirmary.

But again, the universe seems to find so much pleasure in inflicting pain on you.

Midway through the class, a sharp sting strikes your head. Interrupting Mr. Yukimura, you excuse yourself to leave the class.

As you reach the empty halls, you feel an eerie sensation creeping all over your body. Alarmed for some reason you don’t know, you scan the halls hastily. You can see nothing, but you do hear something. A bug-like, rattling noise gradually fills your ears, followed by a raspy, unearthly wheeze.

What the fuck is happening?

You’re shivering, cold sweats covering your body. Not being able to stand the unknown terrors, you abruptly sprint to the vacant locker room.

Bad idea. Should’ve picked a more crowded room.

Securing yourself in a room alone definitely does not make you feel any safer. The rattling has stopped but the ominous feeling only grew more prominent.

You are about to escape before sudden nausea hits you. Before you knew it, your knees drop to the floor, your throat retching, vomiting a slimy, ink-like substance.

Now you are horrified.

The door to the locker room flies open, showing two familiar figures. Their eyes find your unusually glowing whiskey-colored ones.

“Fuck, she’s one of them,” Stiles spoke, eyes fixated only on you.

Scott rushes over to you as Stiles stands still, trying to let the sight in front of him sink in. While bracing your fragile body to a steady sitting position, Scott checks in on you with a few “are you okay?”s to which you shake your head.

“What is happening to me, Scott?” you question, panic in your eyes.

After hearing a very complicated and detailed explanation about chimeras and the dread doctors, you are left speechless in front of all the members of the pack who came running right away at the bad news a while ago when you were still seated frozen in a shocked haze.

“Okay so, let me summarize everything,” you mutter so softly to the point it sounds like a whisper while standing up, Stiles hands instinctively finding your body to support you.

“I am a chimera, which is a scientifically-made supernatural creature. The dread doctors, the psychos who are behind this, are going to take me away,” you enunciate to the pack—more like to yourself—to prove your understanding of the matter in which Scott nods in return.

He then tries to come up with a plan to save you from being taken, but you’re not really listening.

Even though you look composed, you are actually on edge, occasionally convincing yourself that everything is under control.

From the very little you heard, basically, they plan on keeping you here in the locker room for the rest of the day—something to do with the telluric currents.

After the plan is finalized, everyone departs for their appointed roles, leaving only one person behind to watch over you.

Out of everyone in the pack, why him?

“I have a spare shirt in my locker, do you maybe want to change into them?” Stiles pointed to your now stained white T-shirt.

You are about to refuse the boy’s offer but looking at the matching black splatter on your shirt and the floor makes you feel queasy, so you comply.

“Okay, we’ll go to the boy’s locker room and leave this mess here.”

“We should clean it-“

“No, you’re not in the state to do any work. I’ll ask someone to clean it up later.” He grabs your arm and leads you out the door to the boy’s locker room, which is no different than the girl’s, pretty disappointing.

Stiles rummages his locker for a second before handing his grey shirt to you.

You stare at him, waiting for him to give you some privacy to change your clothes. But it seems like he isn’t getting the memo.

“What?” he blurts so blatantly as you sigh in return.

Oh God has he always been this slow?

“Are you planning on cheating on Malia? Because I’m about to change here and unless you’re blind, you’re going to have to see me pretty much naked.” His jaw drops at your snarky remark. His face growing warmer as it’s tinted with a crimson color.

“O-Oh yeah, of course. I’m no longer dating Malia though but uhh that’s not important. I’ll turn around- Or do you want me to leave the room? I can do that.” He fidgeted, totally taken aback and flustered.

“Don’t leave me alone, please. Just turn around.”

Both of you are astonished by your statement. But it’s the truth. Alone, you were petrified. At least being with Stiles makes you feel a little more secure.

Just a day ago you were shouting for him to leave, but now you practically begged him to stay. How ironic.

After you have changed into his cozy oversized shirt which for the record smells like his aftershave that you liked, you keep away your dirty shirt, sit on the bench beside him, and thank him.

Once again, silence befalls the both of you. The air between you two today has somehow shifted from yesterday. It’s still thick and tensed, but not full of rage and resentment.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he mutters after a while with his head low.

“Stiles-“

“No, I have to say it. You were right. I was so stupid. I should have never blamed you for not being able to trust me. I’ve hurt you, Y/N, and I deserve this.” His regretful honey eyes are fixed deeply into yours.

Despite the guilt building up inside your body, you do not reply to him straight away. You need time to process this.

Are you still mad at him? Yes. But do you feel bad for being mean towards him? Also yes.

As you are contemplating, the door to the locker room swings open, revealing Scott and the others.

Liam is clutching a large navy duffel bag in his hand, its contents still a mystery to you. Lydia and a man who you aren’t familiar with are carrying a bunch of radio transmitters. Malia is holding a steel bat, which later on is passed over to Stiles.

Once they are all inside, they start to get busy. Lydia, Stiles, and the guy—Parrish, according to what you heard the pack calls him—go around the room, placing the equipment all over it. Malia and Liam are near the door, pushing the shelves to cover all the exits except the main one. And Scott is hovering over the duffel bag which was placed earlier on the bench across you.

He slowly zips the bag open, inspecting it. Being your inquisitive self, you lift your head up to get a better view. But before you get a sight of anything, Scott zips it back close and takes it with him.

After everyone’s done with their designated tasks, they all gather to form a small circle, yourself included.

“Okay, Lydia and Parrish, you two stay in the car outside. Malia and Liam, stand by in the halls. Me, Stiles, and Y/N will stay here. Got it?” Scott instructs clearly to which everybody nods and proceed to their assigned areas.

All of them seem so prepared as if they are properly equipped for battle, except you.

Minutes have passed as there is no sign of the dread doctors. You are sitting quietly on the bench, fumbling with your fingers as Stiles and Scott pace around the room.

Your eyes darted from the two mobile boys to the duffel bag resting on the bench in front of you. Now, you’re curious.

When Scott isn’t looking, you swiftly slide to the opposite bench and zip the bag open, uncovering a bunch of weighty chains.

“What are these for?” Your voice echoes through the noiseless room, earning glances from them both.

“I brought them, just in case.” Scott moves closer to where you are.

“In case of what?” You don’t quite understand what he is implying.

“In case we have a chance to catch one of them,” Scott answered composedly.

“What?” Stiles snaps from behind Scott.

“If we can’t make the school a fortress, maybe we can make it a trap.” Scott’s attempt to explain to the two of you only receives a scoff of disbelief from Stiles.

“And you’re making her the bait?” he questions sharply.

“That’s not what I said-“

“Yeah, right.” Stiles rolls his eyes as Scott glances over to you, an apologetic look plastered on his face.

You don’t know what to feel about this situation. Yes, you are hurt that Scott possibly considered you as bait. But rationally, he does have a point. At the same time, you are also impressed at Stiles' initiative to immediately defend you.

“Wait a minute, I hear something. I’ll go out and check it. You two stay here.” Before any of you can protest, Scott fleets out of the room.

And then there’s two. Awkward silence once again engulfs the two of you. But this time, you’re the one who breaks it.

“Thank you, for defending me,” you utter gently as he sat beside you.

“Of course, Y/N. Always. I will always protect you.” He grasps your hands into his, giving you a reassuring smile, relieved that you finally drop your cold exterior.

The long-awaited moment of truce you two are sharing is sadly interrupted by the familiar rattling noise that unexpectedly appeared, causing you to stand up, followed by Stiles.

“Stiles, I hear them,” you quiver, fear rushing through your body.

“Me too. Hey, Scott?” He forms a half-circle using his palms, cupping them around this mouth. He continues to call out his best friend’s name a few more times before he retreats.

“Where the fuck is he?” Exasperated and worried, he restlessly gazes around the room.

“They’re coming, Stiles.” Feeling hopeless and discouraged, you put your hand on his shoulder, trying to calm his agitated body. You have accepted your fate. They’re taking you away.

“No, I’m not letting them take you.” His hands caress the sides of your arms, tears forming in his eyes.

“They will.” Your palms cup his face, thumb wiping away the warm teardrops streaming down his cheeks.

Mirroring your actions, he also cups your cheeks, staring at the little details of your face, memorizing them like it’s the last time he’ll get to be close to you.

Then he tilts his head and leans closer, shutting the distance between your lips. Fluttering your previously widened eyes shut, your lips passionately brushed along his plump ones as your hands fall from his cheeks to his chest, heart pounding loudly, warmth radiating throughout your body.

Just as he initiated it, he pulls away, honey eyes never leaving yours.

“I will find you, okay?” You nod as shadows appear behind Stiles’ figure.

The dread doctors.

He also sensed their presence as he immediately snatches his bat from the bench. He commands you to stay behind him which you obey.

Cowering behind Stiles’ figure, they have the two of you cornered and helpless. He tightens his grip and aggressively swings his bat at one of them but to no avail. Inching closer, they shove him away, grabbing a hold of both your arms.

You’re hysterically crying out for help, vigorously attempting to break free. Forcefully holding you still, they jab a sharp needle to the side of your neck as your limp body dropped to the ground. Your vision turns dark, the last thing you see is Stiles’ unconscious body lying in front of you.

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shikamarusky · 2 years

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Welcome to Personal Hell

#collage #derek stiles #sterek #stiles stilinski #dylan obrien #tyler hoechlin #derek hale #teen wolf #hobrien #red #AU #nogitsune #wolf #werewolf

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aucelebrity · 1 year

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Au Meme : You were in the same high school as Dylan O'Brien before you got engaged.

#dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien au meme #dylan obrien imagine #dylan obrien au meme #imagine #au meme #imagines #au memes

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ohwowimlonley · 2 years

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For au Tuesday, nsfw, alpha stiles x omega reader?

[join in on au tuesday!]

“C’mere, ‘mega,” he patted his thigh, helping you climb astride his lap. He was naked already, jeans and boxers removed shortly after he’d given you your third orgasm, back pressed flush to the passenger seat of his jeep. You didn’t waste a second grinding onto his growing knot, coating it in your rivers of slick, “good girl, you sure you can do this all by yourself?”

“M’sure, alpha! Can be your big girl,” you promised, bracing one of your palms on his shoulders to get better leverage for you to position the tip of his bloated cockhead against your gaping hole. The first stretch was always painful, though it was made easier by the way your slick dripped down with anticipation. You held your breath, sinking all the way down to his thick base and relishing in the almost primal growl he let out, “oh, oh Stiles!”

“Good girl, my good ‘mega,” he nosed offer your bonding gland, over your mark, how you showed everyone you were his. Just the smell of your combined scents had his cock swelling even more inside you, not even needing you to pull yourself up and drop down to get him even more riled up, “precious omega, my omega,”

#•megs ask box•#•megs smutty daydreams•#•au tuesdays•#stiles stilinski moodboard #stiles x you #stiles x reader #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi smut #teen wolf smut #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fluff #teen wolf #dylan obrien smut #dylan obrien fanfic #dylan o'brien #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!stiles

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incorrectteenwolfcaptionsold · 2 years

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Stiles undercover for the FBI

#teen wolf #teen wolf AU #stiles stilinski #mieczyslaw stiles stilinski #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #not okay

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pixiekiwi · 3 months

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Stiles Stilinski Fanfiction

Hello everyone! I have been inactive on this account for ages and truly need to start it up again at some point.

But at the moment I am currently working on a stiles stilinski teen wolf fanfiction on wattpad! I am really excited about this fanfiction as teen wolf (and maze runner) is what got me into loving to write and fanfiction in general. I have a lot planned for this book and series!!!

Stiles Stilinski x OC

Please if you enjoy teen wolf go check it out!! I'm planning on releasing the Prologue at some point tonight.

Small Synopsis:

Brittle Bones is about a girl with Osteogenesis imperfecta, also known as Brittle Bones disease gets a chance to be normal, almost.

Heres the link! <3

#teen wolf #kpixie rambles #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teen wolf au #jackson whittemore #peter hale #x oc #wattpad #fanfiction #teenwolf #stilinski #scottmccall #mccall #beaconhills #issac lahey #maze runner #the maze runner #dylan obrien

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littlekingbergara · 11 months

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The Shane I have in my head is him with a mustache, just really going all in on the meek librarian look. In fact his normal keeping up appearances job is a part time job as a librarian. His neighbors are baffled at how this librarian can afford a mansion in the richest neighborhood of Chicago. Most people assume that he’s a trust fund baby living off his inheritance who sees his job as more of a hobby.

OF COURSE HE HAS A MUSTACHE!! i loveee him and his love of libraries and ofc he's in chicago.

maybe the library is also where important things get sent and important meetings get held bc it's relatively quiet and he can have people in after hours.

#wait now im also loving trust fund baby shane lolll #have u seen the outfit (2022) starring dylan obrien.#mob shane au #anon #💌

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wildflowerdylan · 1 year

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HAVING AN AFFAIR

PART ONE - PART TWO

Pairing: Fred Fitzell x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ content, cursing, drug use, alcohol use, masturbation, cheating.

Concept: Love, sex, and drugs. Starring Fred Fitzell, Y/F/N Y/L/N, and Mercury.

The sky was dim and cloudy, giving the appearance that it was about to rain - although, if you lived here you knew the little water droplets would never come. The air was empty and cold, too, leaving goose bumps on my arms like the crunch in a crunch bar. I push open the large doors to my modern apartment building and walk inside, letting the warm hit my skin aggressively. A few more steps in and I’m at the large, black elevators. I press the button until it turns red and wait for the elevator to come and take me back up to the eleventh floor. I finally hear a ding that indicates to me the elevator is about to open. Once the doors pry wide, I can see two people standing with each other and a cart to carry boxes. They both look exhausted - mentally and physically.

I furrow my eyebrows as I recognize who it is I’m staring at. He looks up just as the word falls out of my mouth with surprise, “Fred?” The lean man looks at me with a soft smile, his brown eyes growing lighter. “Y/N?” He moves past the cart to reach out to me. I graciously take his sign of happiness and engulf him into a long hug. The hug couldn’t have lasted for much longer than 30 seconds before an uncomfortable cough comes from the woman who stood next to him moments ago. “Karen, this is an old… friend from high school… Y/N. Y/N, this is my… wife, Karen.” He looks back at me with a particular expression that lets me know Karen has no clue who I actually was to him and probably shouldn’t ever know - an ex. I nod my head regardless, “Are you two helping someone move in?” Karen shakes her head, stepping forward with the cart and grabbing Fred’s hand. “No, we actually just moved in ourselves.” I nod and smile, “That’s great! Looks like we’re new neighbors, then.” Fred shifts for a moment, trying to contain his emotions. “What floor are you?” I look up from the floor at Karen’s words, “I live on eleven. Apartment G.” They both nod, “We’re on eleven too,” Fred smiles. I nod my head once more, holding my hand in the elevator so that it doesn’t leave without me. “I guess that means I’ll see you both around then.” They both smile politely as I wave my hand carefully and retreat into the elevator with a soft smile.

A short ride later and I’m walking to my apartment. I find myself wondering which one is his with each door I pass. I sigh to myself as I reach my door. I loved my apartment. It was gorgeous and I spent a lot of time, effort, and money to make this place the home it is now. But that didn’t change the heartbreak I suddenly felt all over again from when Fred and I broke up years ago. I remember it was right before we graduated college and we had both realized two very big things. 1, we were going to different places in life. 2, our whole relationship was based on drug use and merc. So, we mutually agreed to end things. He was ready for marriage and kids, rehab - I was ready to travel the world and make new experiences, never stop. Of course, I eventually did stop taking merc along with every other drug in the book except the occasional alcoholic beverage and caffeine, of course. I also traveled everywhere I wanted. I met new people, made new experiences, and became, honestly, a whole new person. But I became that person too late. Now, Fred is just the one who got away.

I set my purse down on the kitchen bar top for a second. I look at the white and black marble, tracing the lines to ease my mind. I shake my head and rub my face with my hands before moving to grab a bottle of wine and a glass and then head into the bathroom. I turn my tub on to let it fill up. I strip down from my clothes and long day and hop in after all the bubbles have puffed up; placing each step into the large white tub carefully. I take a big gulp from the bottle and slump into the tub deeper. Seeing Fred is both the best and worst thing to have happened to me today. I think seeing him has just confirmed that I still love him and I still want him - making it very bittersweet to see him in front of me.

I want him to look at me the way he used to. To hold my hand. To hold me when I’m sad. To touch me. I want him to touch me. I bit my lip as I cradled the glass of wine in my hands. A sigh released my mouth as I put the glass down on the side of the tub carefully. If I’m going to think about Fred this way, I might as well put it to good use… I slipped one hand down into the water and closed my eyes as I began rubbing circles, picturing his hand where mine is. His tongue entangled with my own. My hands wrapped up in his hair as he nips at my neck and breasts. The feeling of him growing quickly as our bath together gets more and more heated. The heat inside of me burns brighter and brighter until, suddenly, a knock bursts me out of my bubble.

I sigh in the tone of sexual frustration as I grab a nearby towel to dry myself off before throwing a robe on. I drain my tub, deciding that maybe bath time was not what I needed, and walk out into the living room. I place the more than half empty bottle of wine on the kitchen counter and carry my glass over to the front door.

The tall brunette is revealed from behind the door as I open it swiftly. I straighten up with wide eyes at the surprise of the man I craved. “Hi…” I speak breathlessly. Fred smiles, “Can I come in?” I nod my head kindly before moving out of the way and letting him take a seat on the couch. I walk back over to the kitchen and put my glass down next to the bottle. “Do you want a glass of wine?” Fred turns to watch me as I reach for another glass on the top shelf of the cabinets. He takes a moment to answer as he watches my robe lift higher and higher. “Uh, yeah, sure.” “Here you go.” I smile, handing him the glass before sitting down with mine in the chair diagonal to him. “So, what brings you here?” Fred kept his eyes on the glass swirling between his hands for a second longer before adjusting and looking at me. “You.” I tilt my head slightly in confusion, “I mean, I assumed that, Fred… But why?” He put his glass down on a coaster near him as he stood up and moved closer to me while still staying on the couch. “Y-you can’t tell Karen about us.” I furrow my eyebrows. Fred continues, “She can’t know about our past… about merc…” I nod my head, suddenly realizing what he was saying. “She doesn’t know?” Fred sighed as he shook his head. “Y/N/N, she doesn’t know anything up until she and I met…” I nod my head once more. “Okay…” I stand up slowly, grabbing my glass off the table and finishing it quickly. “Fred, this feels like a lot of lies to have with your wife.” I hear his footsteps come towards me slowly as the wine fills my glass once more tonight. He grabs the bottle out of my hand from behind me and spins me around to look at him. We haven’t been this physically close since the day we broke up. “You’re still so damn stunning.” I look at his eyes back and forth in disbelief. “You’re not supposed to compliment other girls when you’re married.” He nods his head, speaking softly before dipping his head closer to mine, “You’re not supposed to kiss them either…”

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hoes4dylanobrien · 2 years

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It’s Just A Cigarette | 3

WARNINGS: swearing, underage drinking, social pressure

wc. 1,982

tag list: @roxic93

"Low-key hang out, huh?” You mused, eying the packed apartment booming with music audible from the first floor when you and Colin made your way up to the third floor of the five story walk up of the old tenement building. Booze was visible far as the eye could see, with folks chatting, making out, and dancing uninhibited, among other things.

Colin shot you a cheeky grin, winking as he herded you through the door, his arms braced on your shoulders and hot breath at your ear:

“So I lied a lil’. I know you would’a argued with me otherwise.”

“So you do it anyway without giving me a heads up?”

“What’s the expression? Better to beg for forgiveness...?” His gaze lowered to your mouth, which felt hot all of a sudden, and suddenly you forgot what you were annoyed about. Instinctually you licked your bottom lip, which he fixated on, brown eyes turning to darkened amber.

“Ay, man, ‘bout time you showed up. Beginnin’ to think you got mugged or somethin’-” a darker skinned man yelled out, red cup in hand as he took sight of you. “And this must be... Melodie?”

“Marnie,” you corrected, reaching out to shake his hand hesitantly with a cautious smile. He surprised you by taking you into his arms in a hug. “Oh,” you mumbled. “My bad, I’m a hugger. And you bein’ tight with my boy here, well, just felt right. I’m Andjy, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” you replied. He leaned back, you doing the same as you rubbed your elbows somewhat awkwardly.

Colin stepped forward, hand light on your waist as he pointed to the others. “And that’s Petra, Aria, and DeShaun.”

“Hi,” you greeted.

Petra, a small artsy chick with an intimidating stare, looked you up and down, frowning. She was the only one who seemed unhappy to meet you. “I didn’t catch where you know Colin from?” She asked snottily.

You glanced up at Colin, who now was preoccupied with his phone.

“Oh, Colin didn’t tell you?”

"Nope.” She said, seeming somewhat amused by it. As if you weren’t significant enough to know, or to remember. You swallowed hard. “We lived together for a short while a bit ago.”

“Why?”

Nosy much, you thought.

“My parents took him in when he was about to age out of the foster system.”

“Oh,” realization dawned on her face, now looking pleased. “He’s your brother?”

“Well, not really-”

"Yo Colin,” a guy yelled, cutting short your explanation. “Got a bet goin’ here, need you to settle it.”

Colin grinned, yelling over the cocaghany of noise. “Aight ima be right over.” He leaned in, mint breath and aftershave washing over me again: “You gonna be all right here?”

You nodded enthusiastically, forcing a smile. “Sure. Take your time.” You didn’t want to make him feel obligated to stick by your side even if all you wanted to do was just that. Cooler, more mature and independent Marnie could handle herself.

“You sure sure?” He raised a thick brow, gaze searching yours for the truth.

“I’ll be fine. Go on and have fun.” You smiled encouragingly.

He brushed his knuckles against your upper arm, the one littered with all the rings. The cool press of the metal coupled with his presence had the hair on the back of your neck raising. “Back before you know it,” he promised, voice gravelly.

You kept rehearsing your new mantra about independence as you felt the immediate sense of loss (and slight panic) at seeing Colin walk away, also reminding yourself he would be back soon, and if not, you knew where to find him; it wasn’t as if the apartment was that large, although it was decently sized.

You briefly wondered how he paid for it all. He had a large flat screen TV and accompanying video game sets, several pieces of nice-looking even if second-hand furniture, a tiki inspired half bar, a pool table with darts, and a slew of pieces of out-there, neon colored art and film mementos that was so quintessentially Colin littering the painted walls and exposed brick, Coupled with the awesome neighborhood, he was living a bachelor and indie college kid’s dream. It had to cost a fortune, yet as far as you knew, Colin wasn’t working, and NYU was hardly cheap.

I”ve never seen Colin like that,” one of the girl friends that Colin pointed out, said. You think you remember her name being Aria. She was much kinder, with a sweetheart face, and a really killer fashion sense. She looked like she knew a lot, but not the type to lord it over others. It endeared you to her.

“I’m sorry?” You shook your head, trying to catch up.

“Colin,” she said, glancing over where the blond was talking animatedly in a huddle of girls and guys, beer in one hand as he seemed to be regaling them with some story or other.

“He’s kind of overbearing with you, isn’t he? Like an older brother, but not quite...” Her gaze fixed back on you, searchingly. Looking for something. You felt like a bug under a microscope. Being popular, intelligent, and intuitive on top of pretty just seemed unfair.

“No, I don’t think so. He’s just looking out for me. This is my first party, and I’m sorta his responsibility for the weekend. He’d probably be less hands-on if we were back in Jersey.”

Your mind flashed to distinct memories of him not acting dissimilar, however. Times where he’d hover when he invited his guy friends over to the house, or act just a little too interested in what you and Wyatt, your then boyfriend, were up to.

“Right,” she said, taking a sip of her drink.

“We’re not related, you know.” You blurted out, blushing at the sudden rise of her eyebrows. “Sorry, that was random. I was just wanting to clarify the conversation from earlier with Petra. Yeah, we lived together for a bit but we aren’t siblings and we aren’t related by blood. Just want to make that clear...”

“Got it. To be honest, I wasn’t really listening, but since you brought it up,” she tilted her head to the side, “you don’t really look alike at all. I know Colin’s not a natural blond much as he tries to protest otherwise, but I’m fairly sure he doesn’t have curly hair hidden under that bleach blond Eminem look,” she giggled.

You laughed with her, feeling more at ease in her presence. “Yeah, can verify that’s not the case.”

As the night went on, you stuck close with Aria, who fortunately seemed content in your company, and even had a chance to get to know Luca and DeShaun more. Andjy, who had left to start the pool game, seemed to be killing it, taking people’s cash left and right, while Colin had yet to come back, now drinking and dancing with his shirt off which showed off all his tattoos, and a little dark happy trail that led into his sweats that you were definitely not looking at.

“So ‘first party’ girl, you wanna drink?” Asked Aria. “I’m assuming this is also your first taste of alcohol, although the two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

You bit your lip. “Actually, I’ve had some wine at home with dinner.”

“That doesn’t count,” she smirked.

“I don’t know...”

“Come on, try some. I promise to hold your hair back if you puke.” She laughed.

“Okay,” you caved. “Not a lot, though. What’s that?” You pointed to hers. “Tequila. You’re not ready for that, though. Here, lemme get you some vodka and a chaser. That’s what my mom started me on, haven’t looked back since,” she winked, pouring and mixing the drinks.

You watched her, wondering whether you were making a mistake. Then you remembered you were alone, probably for the first time in your 17 years, not including a short stint at camp several summers in a row in your tween years. You were supervised then. This time was completely different, and you were older.

“Bottoms up,” she says, holding out the red cup to you. You take it, reluctantly, seeing her watchful gaze on you. You smile, tossing it back slowly at first, then quickly, as the awful acidic taste overwhelmed your taste buds. You coughed a little as you swallowed, earning some laughs around you.

“Damn, Ari, you are a bad influence,” DeShaun teased, not disapprovingly.

“What is this again?” You asked when you were more coherent. “It tastes like nail polish remover.”

“Well la de da,” piped up Petra.

Aria laughed. “Shut your mouth, it’s vodka and cranberry, top notch vodka at that.”

“Girl’s got taste, don’t hate,” DeShaun retorted.

They kept on talking, but as you listened it became less and less clear to you what they were saying.

“Girl, you okay?” Aria rested her hand on your knee, trying to grab your attention. “I'm good,” you mumbled, rising. You suddenly had to go to the bathroom. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the hall to the left,” she said, eying you. “You sure you’re good? Want me to come?”

“She doesn’t need a damn babysitter,” snapped Petra. “Let her be. She’ll find her way.”

You drifted off in the direction mentioned, which was easier said than done between navigating through the crowd, and your increasingly dizzy, forgetful state of mind. It had only been one drink, and yet you knew without a question you were definitely drunk.

“Hey, you mind?” Said the guy inside the bathroom, whom you’d accidentally walked in on without knocking. “Sorry,” you said, quickly shutting the door. There was a woman inside with him on her knees; you may have been inexperienced, but even you understood what was clearly happening between the two.

“Bathroom taken?” Said someone beside you. You hadn’t noticed him walk up behind you and you took a step back. “Yeah. Don’t think they’re coming out anytime soon, though...”

He laughed, a sort of hoarse sound. “Shit, that’s rude as fuck.”

“Mhm.”

“I wouldn’t normally do this, but I live next door and you’re welcome to use mine.”

You looked at him skeptically. In your inebriated state, you were feeling abnormally distrustful.

“Yeah, I get it. Strange guy inviting you into his apartment, I know how it looks but I promise I don’t mean anything by it, apart from wanting to help.”

“It’s just... I don’t even know who you are.”

“Dominic,” he says, offering an outstretched hand. It felt calloused in yours. “And you are?”

“Marnie,” you reply.

“Well, Marnie, now we know each other,” he grinned ear to ear; it was dark, but you could just make it out. “Okay,” you said.

“Okay.”

You flushed the toilet, washing your hands in the sink. For some stranger’s bathroom, it was pleasantly clean, which you appreciated.

“Thanks for letting me use your bathroom,” you said shyly.

“’Course. Couldn’t let a pretty girl suffer like that,” he winked. You blushed. He was fairly attractive, now that you could see him in decent lighting. He was clearly older, however, maybe even older than Colin by a few years.

“So I haven’t seen you around before. How do you know Colin?”

“I’m his...” You tried to think of a good descriptor. “Friend,” you settled on. You were, you supposed, weren’t you? It was less messy than the reality.

“Interesting,” he responded, watching you curiously.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Just, from what I’ve seen of the guy, he doesn’t exactly do female friends, if you catch my drift.”

“He’s got a few. I met them today,” you defended.

“Just an observation.”

A knock sounded at the door. It was pretty loud. With raised eyebrows, Dominic approached the door. “Coming.” He said.

The door opened to reveal Colin, looking pissed. “Oh, Colin! Hi, how are you-”

��You son of a bitch,” he growled, lunging at Dominic.

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